Leave Them Alone - By Chamith Hettiarachchi

Written By: Chamith Hettiarachchi

Category: Short Story

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

In the 2026 Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition, Chamith Hettiarachchi presents "Leave Them Alone," a compelling short story that delves into themes of colonization and the ethics of exploration. The narrative takes readers to a newly discovered world inhabited by twelve million people, exploring the complexities and consequences of interplanetary contact and resource extraction. Hettiarachchi's work stands out in this competition, which celebrates creativity and expression from writers around the globe.

About the Work

Chamith Hettiarachchi's "Leave Them Alone" is a thought-provoking exploration of colonization and its enduring impact. The story's tone is reflective and cautionary, using vivid imagery to depict the tensions between technological advancement and ethical responsibility. The narrative challenges readers to consider the implications of history repeating itself in a universe where might does not necessarily make right, and where wisdom may lie in restraint and understanding.

Leave Them Alone

Original Submission by Chamith Hettiarachchi

Leave Them Alone

by Chamith Hettiarachchi

We called it an unclaimed world, although twelve million people already lived there.

A model of the planet rotated above the centre of the council chamber. Blue oceans covered most of its surface, broken by two large continents and thousands of islands. White clouds moved across forests, mountain ranges and settlements that appeared as tiny points of light.

Beneath those settlements lay the largest known deposits of an energy-bearing mineral that Earth had discovered in more than a century.

The representative from the Earth Exploration Authority stood beside the image. He spoke confidently, moving through maps, projections and estimates while delegates from the member planets studied the information on the screens before them.

“The inhabitants have developed agriculture, permanent settlements and basic mechanical transport,” he said. “There is no evidence of space travel or communication beyond their atmosphere. Initial observation suggests several separate nations with no single planetary government.”

The display changed to show the mineral deposits glowing beneath the surface.

“If responsibly developed, these reserves could meet a significant portion of the energy needs of Earth and the inner planets for the next two hundred years.”

No one spoke for several seconds.

Two hundred years of energy could keep cities running, fleets moving and industries alive. It could reduce the shortages that had already led to restrictions across several planets. Whichever nation or company reached those deposits first would gain wealth and influence beyond anything the council had seen in generations.

Of course, no one said that directly.

The representative spoke instead of scientific exchange, cultural contact and mutual development. He assured us that the mission would respect the inhabitants and introduce technology gradually. Earth would not take anything without agreement.

I had heard those words before.

Not from him. The recordings were centuries old, preserved in the historical archives of my planet. The voices were different, and the language had changed slightly, but the promises were almost identical.

They had come to us for energy too.

Before the first Earth vessel arrived, our people knew nothing of the shortages affecting another world. We had our own nations, disputes, traditions and ambitions. We were not united, but we had lived on our planet for longer than our recorded history could measure.

The humans did not arrive with armies. They came with traders, scientists, doctors and translators. They brought equipment that could complete in hours work that had taken us weeks. Their medicines cured illnesses our healers had struggled to understand. Their machines moved across land and air in ways that appeared impossible.

In return, they asked for access to a mineral beneath our mountains.

At first, they required very little. A place to land their vessels, permission to build warehouses and the right to remove a limited quantity of what they called an underused resource. Our leaders signed agreements believing they had secured valuable partnerships.

Some genuinely thought cooperation would improve the lives of our people. Others were impressed by Earth’s technology and wanted to be associated with its power. A few understood exactly what they were surrendering and accepted wealth, protection or positions for themselves. Earth later described them as our representatives. Our history remembered some of them as betrayers.

The warehouses expanded into permanent settlements. Earth needed roads to carry the mineral, communication towers to coordinate transport and security forces to protect its workers. When local communities objected to losing land, the security forces protected the agreements instead.

Trade became administration. Advisers became governors. The small landing areas became territories where Earth laws applied.

The humans did not need to defeat the whole planet. They supported one ruler against another, armed groups willing to protect their interests and described every resistance movement as a threat to order. Each Earth nation competed for its own region, claiming it had arrived to protect us from the others.

Soon, lines were drawn across maps where no borders had existed before. Families living on opposite sides required permission to visit one another. Children were taught Earth languages because education and employment depended on them. Our names were shortened because humans found them difficult to pronounce. Customs that had survived for generations were described as primitive, while Earth customs became signs of intelligence and progress.

Our planet remained ours in name. Almost everything beneath its surface belonged to someone else. The mineral travelled to Earth in quantities greater than our people had imagined possible. It powered distant cities, industries and military fleets. We received roads, offices, schools and railways, most of them leading towards mines or ports.

For many years, Earth called that development. The representative in the council chamber continued speaking.

“Our preliminary plan does not involve territorial occupation,” he said. “We propose establishing a small scientific and commercial station. Contact will be limited to selected local authorities willing to participate.”

Selected local authorities.

I looked again at the glowing deposits beneath the newly discovered planet. Most lay under one of its poorer regions, where several communities were already in conflict.

A delegate near the front raised her hand.

“What if some of their nations refuse?”

“We will respect their decision.”

“And if another nation agrees to provide access to deposits beneath disputed territory?”

“That would require negotiation.”

“With whom?”

The representative paused.

“With the recognised local authority.”

I almost smiled. We had phrases for everything now. Recognition sounded more respectable than choosing whichever leader was willing to cooperate.

The presentation moved to possible transport routes and the cost of building an orbital station. It was the same beginning our ancestors had witnessed, only cleaner, quieter and supported by better diagrams.

The occupation of my planet had lasted for nearly three centuries. It did not end because Earth suddenly understood that it was wrong.

By then, Earth’s nations had carried their rivalries far beyond their own world. They fought over trade routes, colonies and the minerals required to power their fleets. Each believed that allowing another nation to control more planets would threaten its own survival.

The wars on Earth spread into the colonies. Our skies became battlefields for disputes that had begun millions of kilometres away. Mines, ports and cities were destroyed because they supplied one Earth power or another. Our people were recruited into armies and sent to fight others who had also been promised freedom after victory.

The conflict eventually became known as the Galactic War. By the time it ended, entire settlements had disappeared, transport systems had collapsed and no one could calculate how many had died.

Earth called its withdrawal the beginning of our independence. In truth, its nations were exhausted. They no longer had the money, ships or soldiers required to hold what remained of their empires.

The United Planets Organisation was created after the war. Its charter promised that no inhabited world would again be occupied, divided or exploited by another. The surviving colonial governments were dismantled, flags were lowered, and Earth congratulated itself for returning what had never belonged to it. But departure did not return our planet to the life it had known before humans arrived.

Generations had been educated in Earth languages. Our economy had been rebuilt around exporting one resource. Old systems of government had been removed or weakened, borders divided communities, and families had formed across planets. When the Earth administrators, soldiers and companies left, many of our people followed them.

Some had worked for Earth institutions and no longer had employment at home. Others had relatives on Earth or had been taught all their lives that its cities offered the greatest opportunities. Many came from regions damaged by the war or mines that had been emptied and abandoned.

At first, Earth needed them. They rebuilt cities, worked in factories, cared for the old and performed jobs the local population no longer wanted. They lived in crowded districts and were reminded that they were guests, even when the institutions that had brought them there had ruled their planet for centuries.

Then their children entered universities. Their grandchildren opened businesses, became doctors, judges and teachers, and employed people whose ancestors had once employed theirs as servants. Some were elected to Earth’s Parliament.

That was when news began calling migration a crisis.

They asked why so many people from other planets had come to Earth and why they did not return home. Few asked why they spoke Earth languages, followed Earth laws and had learned to imagine Earth as the centre of opportunity.

My own grandfather had arrived during that period. He unloaded cargo at a spaceport built with minerals taken from our planet. My mother was born on Earth and became an engineer. I entered public service and was eventually selected to represent our planet at the United Planets Organisation.

Centuries earlier, someone with my face would not have been allowed through the main entrance of an Earth government building. Now I sat inside the council chamber while Earth requested permission to approach another inhabited world.

The representative completed his presentation.

“This is not colonisation,” he said. “We have learned from history.”

I activated the light on my desk.

The chairperson recognised me, and the chamber turned in my direction.

“You say the inhabitants will benefit from contact,” I began. “Did they ask to meet us?”

“No. They are not yet aware of our presence.”

“You say agreements will be voluntary. Do they understand the value of the mineral beneath their land?”

“They will be properly informed.”

“In whose language?”

“We will develop translation systems.”

“And who will explain what two hundred years of energy is worth to Earth?”

The representative shifted slightly. “That would be part of the negotiation.”

I looked around the chamber. “When humans arrived on my planet, they also came to negotiate. They did not call themselves conquerors. They called themselves traders, scientists and partners. By the time we understood the agreement, their warehouses had become governments.”

“That was centuries ago,” he replied. “The United Planets Organisation did not exist.”

“It exists because of what happened.”

“And that is precisely why the mistakes cannot be repeated. This council will provide oversight.”

“Our occupation also had oversight. Every expansion was authorised, recorded and declared lawful by the people who benefited from it.”

A murmur passed through the chamber.

The representative returned to the image of the planet. “With respect, doing nothing also carries consequences. Earth’s energy reserves are declining. Shortages will affect billions. Are we expected to ignore a solution because our ancestors misused similar opportunities?”

A few delegates nodded.

Another raised his hand. “If we do not establish contact, someone else eventually will. Would it not be better for a regulated mission to reach them first?”

That argument had also survived the centuries. Every empire had justified its arrival by warning that a worse empire might come instead.

The chairperson asked the scientific adviser to clarify the likelihood of the inhabitants developing space travel.

“Based on their present rate of advancement, perhaps several centuries,” she said. “If they were significantly more intelligent or technologically advanced than our observations suggest, they would presumably have detected or contacted us already.”

“Would they?” I asked.

The adviser looked towards me.

“We often say that if beings more advanced than us existed, they would have found us by now,” I continued. “Perhaps they have. Perhaps intelligence is not proved by reaching every place you can reach. Perhaps they studied us and decided that the wiser choice was to leave us alone.”

The representative gave a patient smile. “That is an interesting thought, but we have no evidence of such contact.”

Before I could answer, every screen in the chamber went dark.

The rotating planet disappeared, leaving an empty space above the central table. Council officers looked towards one another while technicians tried to restore the system. A sound came through the chamber speakers. It began as a low series of tones, followed by a voice speaking in the official language of the council. The translation was perfect.

“We detected your observation instruments one hundred and eighty-four of your years ago.”

No one moved.

“We have studied the transmissions from your planets. We have examined your histories, your wars and the expansion you call exploration. We know what follows when your traders arrive. We know the distance between your promises and your actions.”

The representative stared at the empty display.

“We had the means to contact you,” the voice continued. “We chose not to. We had the means to reach your worlds. We chose not to.”

The planet reappeared above the table. The lights of its settlements no longer looked primitive. They looked hidden.

“We left you alone,” the voice said. “We ask you to do the same.”

The transmission ended.

For a long time, the council chamber remained silent. The maps, projections and transport routes returned to the screens, but they no longer resembled a plan. They resembled evidence.

We had assumed that the inhabitants were unaware of us because they had not crossed the distance between our worlds. We had mistaken restraint for inability and silence for ignorance.

They had found us long before we found them. They had watched us and chosen to leave us alone.

Now they were waiting to discover whether we were intelligent enough to do the same.

Leave Them Alone by Chamith Hettiarachchi.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026, hosted by Hashtag Kalakar, is a prestigious platform that invites poets and writers worldwide to share their unique voices. This competition is renowned for fostering creativity across genres, encouraging participants to explore diverse themes and narratives. It serves as a celebration of literary art, aiming to connect cultures and inspire new perspectives through the written word.

We extend our heartfelt thanks to Chamith Hettiarachchi for contributing "Leave Them Alone" to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. This insightful short story invites us to reflect deeply on our shared histories and the choices that shape our future. We are grateful for Chamith's participation and look forward to seeing more of his thought-provoking work in the future.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.