When I opened my eyes, there was silence. No wind. No storm. Just a sky painted violet and red, blurring into the horizon like a dying signal.I coughed, dry blood cracking on my lips and splattering across the inside of my helmet. My body was half-buried in Martian sand—limbs stiff, fingers barely responding. Every joint ached like rusted metal. I had no idea how long I’d been lying there. A day? Two?The Devilman bike was a few meters away, turned over, its hull scraped and twisted. My last ride. Panels were stripped, likely torn off during the crash or scavenged while I was unconscious. Somehow, I’d survived the fall. But for what?I groaned and dragged myself upright. The sun was sinking low again. Dusk. My hydration gauge blinked red. Suit systems were on emergency reserve.But I still had it.The Red Rock was pressed tight against my chest, wrapped in a scorched cloth pouch. I clutched it like a relic, like it was the only thing that mattered now.Jarek’s voice echoed in my head

The next morning, they took me to a place they called the Observatory.It was buried deep within a crater, shielded from prying satellites and orbital scans. From the outside, it looked like nothing more than another collapsed lava tube or abandoned mining dig—perfect camouflage in Martian desolation. But inside, it pulsed with quiet life and ancient power.The walls were etched with worn ǂKhomani glyphs and star charts, some of them pre-dating the arrival of Earth’s first machines. Solar panels powered banks of screens and interface tables, patched together with a mix of native mineral wiring and salvaged Earth tech. Hidden in the depths of forgotten Martian territory, the ǂKhomani had preserved one of the oldest monitoring stations left behind by the early expansionists.Once, this place had belonged to Earth’s first empires—built when Mars still represented hope. Now, it belonged to those left in the shadows of that dream.Ka!ri guided me through the curved halls. Screens flickered

The Tharsis region rose before us—dust-choked and desolate, its rust-red ridges born of volcanic upheaval and sculpted by ancient Martian winds. A place that should’ve been sacred, untouched. Today, it would be a battlefield.“They’re coming,” Ka!ri said, her voice like flint.I adjusted the salvaged Mars M82 slung across my chest. Beside me, others checked their weapons—AK-X rifles from the ruined interstellar camp; resolute. Every bolt and magazine had been scavenged, repurposed, and loaded for this moment.Across the basin, the enemy approached. UN Space Force armor columns crept forward like silent thunder. Behind them: the monsters.Modified Martian Tardigrades. Massive. Engineered. Controlled.Their clawed legs kicked up plumes of dust. Neural control implants blinked dimly from their foreheads—visible even at a distance. We’d seen it before. We now understood: these beasts had been turned into weapons.“They’ve been bred for war,” Ka!ri said grimly. “And wired to obey.”The sky

The wind had settled, but dust still hung in the sky like a veil of grief.Nancy emerged from the Devilmen medical outpost, blinking in the thin Martian light. Her arm was bandaged, a reddish paste smeared across the burn on her neck. The gills sewn into the side of her throat still ached—new lungs beneath old skin.She sat by the entrance, sipping nutrient water from a metal flask. Two Devilmen warriors walked past, nodding with solemn respect. She had won their admiration. She had survived.Inside, I leaned against a support beam, watching her. The chaos of the Rim felt distant now. Even the air here felt thicker with something... unfamiliar. Not just Martian grit. Emotion.I walked out to join her. We sat in silence for a while.“I never thanked you,” Nancy said finally.“You didn’t have to,” I said.She looked away, out across the red plateau.I leaned in. “Back on Mars, we’ve suspected for a while that the UN Space Force brought some of the Tardigrades back from early expeditions

The thrum of the newly secured military outpost was a low, steady pulse beneath my feet—a counterpoint to the frantic beat of my own heart. The echoes of the Council of Flame, of the hard-won, momentary reprieve against the 1%'s genocidal strike, still vibrated in the air. Yet, even as a fragile peace settled over the Martian plains, another kind of war stirred deep inside me.Ka!ri stood before me, her silhouette strong against the reddening sky, her eyes ancient and full of sorrow. Her voice, usually steel-wrapped command, softened now—like embers at the edge of fire."Now that the Council has been called," she said, "Nancy and I can plead for those still left behind. This is the first time I’ve felt… alive.”The confession didn’t shake me. If anything, it made her more remarkable. I reached for her cheek, and she leaned into my hand, eyes closed.“Stay with me,” she whispered. “I have felt dead for so long. This… this is resurrection.”Her words pressed into me, thick and heavy wit