2025-05-24 12:20:05Chapter 1: The Tipping Point
The year is 2035. Mr. Ike Nyowe, Head of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), steps up to the podium at the UN building’s media room. The room falls silent as the world watches. Adjusting the microphone, he begins: "Ughm... We have failed to drastically reduce emissions, which has led to more frequent and intense heatwaves, droughts, floods, and storms. Wildfires are now the norm." Behind him, a massive screen flashes images of devastation: bridges reduced to rubble, neighborhoods swallowed by floods. “Ladies and gentlemen of the media,” he continues, “half the world doesn't have electricity. What's left of our oceans has turned to acid. A global population decline has begun—fueled by famine, malnutrition, and conflict over increasingly scarce resources. It's a calamity.” He adjusts his spectacles, his brow furrowed. “There’s civil war in Syria...” He gestures to the screen, now showing massive waves pounding coastal buildings. “That’s a tsunami in Aceh, Indonesia. Political tensions there are rising too.” I mute the TV and glance at the three others in the Mars substation with me. All nod grimly. Gerry, in jeans and an Ivy League T-shirt, looks at me with his chubby face searching for answers. “Well, Gerry, you’ve been part of this mission for a long time. You knew this wasn't just a temporary fix. Go on, say it.” He chomps on a space snack, raises a finger for me to wait, then swallows. “I’ve always believed all wasn't lost. TMP is the only hope for the few millions left behind on Earth.” He beams proudly. Our crew bursts out laughing. “You won the bet, boss!” someone shouts. TMP—Terraforming Mars Project—was launched in 2019 when 195 nations under the UNFCCC agreed on desperate measures against the global climate crisis. I led one of the initial exploration teams to Mars. Our mission: alter the red planet to support terrestrial life—a lifeboat for humanity. I turn the TV back on. Mr. Nyowe is still speaking. “Sixteen years later, TMP is only 30% complete—just 2,000 kilometers of the 6,800-kilometer surface. Not nearly enough for the 60 million people still on Earth. Currently, 15 million live in the colony and have survived the last ten years.” I mute the TV again and look at the crew. Worry knots my gut. “Guys,” I say, “I won’t argue that Mars has patches that look like Earth now, but the planet is still unsuitable for long-term life. It’s going to take years of hard work.” Venessa, petite and sharp-eyed, cuts in. “Mars is about the size of Australia and could sustain a population of 125 million—twice the combined population of Earth and Mars right now. With a thicker atmosphere and more water, we could repopulate the human race.” Tyron nods, ever the voice of overconfidence. “Boss, COP already decided—Mars must expand to host Earth’s refugees. Sure, there are challenges: radiation, unexplored regions, reproductive ethics, inter-colony politics. But I ask... does it really take three people for this?” I stroke my goatee, smirking. “No. It’s going to take four.” Their eyes widen. “You’re bringing him back?” Venessa gasps. “Yep.” TMP Colony is housed in a technologically-sealed environment to prevent atmospheric loss. The Docks— affectionately called The Rim—is its industrial heart, home to thousands of laborers. When TMP began, workers signed multiyear contracts—giving up much of their earnings and freedom in exchange for passage to Mars. Most couldn’t afford the trip otherwise. “If COP wrote a Constitution,” I say, “one that halved everyone’s profits for a shot at Mars, maybe more people would have made it.” Tyron scoffs. “Well, your Mars Constitution made sure the people down there don’t like us up here. I’ll be skipping your trip to the Rim.” Gerry hesitates. He’s been with us only three months. I pegged him as a privileged newbie, detached from the mission’s reality. But before I speak, Tyron cuts in again: “The Constitution regulates labor. People like us get the good jobs. Everyone else? They live down there. The Rim is the ghetto of Mars.”
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
Chapter 53: Final Broadcast
The wind howled across the Mahikeng plain like a dying animal, thick with the acrid stench of ozone and something worse—the metallic tang of old blood baked into the dust. The moon hung limp in the sky, a jaundiced sickle in the bruised twilight, its feeble light catching on the jagged edges of their makeshift comms tower. A Frankenstein's monster of car batteries and scavenged radio parts, its exposed wires hissed and spat like a cornered serpent with every gust.Click.Whir.Silence.The young woman's fingers danced across the cracked console, her nails blackened with soot and desperation. "Horizon's Edge," she whispered into the dead air, her voice raw from days of screaming into the void. "This is Survivor Group Sigma. Do you copy?"Static.Always static.Behind her, a man with hollow cheeks and hollower eyes tightened a final wire, his knuckles splitting against the metal. Blood welled, black in the dim light. He didn't seem to notice.Then—A sound.Not from the radio.From the
Chapter 52: The Rim Runs Red
The hangar’s alarms still echoed in Rachel’s bones when the ATV roared to life beneath her. Its repulsor-assist coughed, then steadied into a thunderous growl. She slammed the throttle forward, and the machine leapt ahead like a predator loosed from its chain. The Rim opened before them—twisting ridges of red stone and fossilized cliffs that jutted like the ribs of some ancient beast.Behind them, the shadows stirred.!Gareseb twisted in the gunner’s nest, the railgun cradled to his shoulder. “Contact left!”Rachel swerved, tires spitting gravel. A Rake launched itself from a ledge, its talons flashing in the weak Martian light. It slashed air where they had been a heartbeat earlier, screeching as it struck stone. Sparks showered the canyon wall.“Hold steady!” !Gareseb roared. The railgun spat molten light. The creature’s body tore apart mid-arc, scattering fragments of carapace that clattered against the ATV’s roof.Rachel’s pulse pounded in her throat. Already more of the things we
Chapter 51: Convergence
The hangar was alive with noise — not the celebratory kind, but the raw, metallic chaos of a city tearing itself open to bleed one last chance into the void.Repulsor carts screeched along the basalt floor, technicians shouting over the wail of alarms as they loaded missile crates, cryo-charges, and breather masks onto waiting shuttles. Plasma welders hissed against torn hull plating. The stench of scorched metal, moss-wine, and human sweat pressed thick in the air.Above it all, the Red Rock veins pulsed in irregular rhythms, as if the planet itself was holding its breath.Rachel stood near the observation rail, one hand clamped around her glowing arm, the other on the railing to steady herself. She could feel the ghost signal thrumming stronger with every cycle. Somewhere out there, Nancy’s echo — or Nancy herself — was calling. The line between the two had blurred until she could no longer tell if it was her friend’s soul or just the hive baiting them deeper.!Guruseb was at her si
Interlude: The Calculus of War
War isn’t just fought with weapons. It’s fought with math. Not the kind you learn in school—the kind you can balance on a knife edge. Lives in one column. Outcomes in the other. Somewhere in between, the sum tells you how many people you can afford to lose before the plan collapses.The council chamber had smelled of stone dust and old fear that day. They spoke in numbers: projected survival rates, energy reserves, shuttle fuel ratios. Everything neat and clean until you remember each digit is a pulse, a face, a name.The Rakes don’t think like we do. They don’t negotiate. They don’t bluff. To them, war is the same equation every time: Assimilate → Expand → Consume.!Naba’s research laid the variables bare. The Red Rock’s power is both their obsession and their allergy. Khomani bodies, adapted over generations, bridge the gap—but only partially. Humans with the Eve Gene? They could complete the circuit. That’s the prize. Not just survival—dominion.The council’s vote was simple on pa
Chapter 50: The Weight of Stars
The abandoned algae vats hummed with a residual energy, their curved glass surfaces still faintly glowing from the Red Rock’s circadian pulse. Rachel ran a fingertip along the cool, slick surface, watching the amber light ripple through the nutrient-depleted fluid like thinned blood. The air in the hydroponics lab was thick with the earthy scent of damp soil and the sweet, decaying smell of failed harvests.Three days had passed since the Rake ambush. Three cycles of the city’s artificial twilight—each dimming of the cavern’s vast, mineral veins sending !Guruseb’s shadow stretching longer against her quarters’ door. She could always sense him there, a sentinel of silent protection. The heat of his body warped the recycled air currents, and the rhythmic scrape of his whetstone along his spear synced with the city’s deep, subterranean heartbeat. It was a constant reminder of the pact they had made and the unspoken weight of his vigil.The hydroponics lab breathed around her, a living, sy
Chapter 49: The Edge of the World
The climb to Ka!ri’s sanctuary was a silent confession etched in stone dust and labored breath. No klaxons shattered the stillness, no war drums pulsed through the caverns—just the rhythmic scrape of my boots on raw basalt and the weight of every unspoken word between us, heavy as the planet's core. The path coiled upward like a serpent's spine, each narrow ledge slick with condensation from the colony's struggling atmospheric processors. My fingers left damp prints on the cold rock as I ascended, the thinning air sharpening every inhale to a knife's edge in my lungs. She reached the summit first, her silhouette haloed by the throbbing veins of iron-rich minerals threaded through the cavern ceiling. The bioluminescent strands pulsed in slow, hypnotic rhythms—amber one moment, blood-red the next—casting her in liquid fire and bruise-purple shadows. I halted three paces behind her, close enough to feel the radiant heat of her skin, far enough to pretend the scent of her didn't unravel me
You may also like
OPPOSITES
GA101.9K viewsAndara Revenge (Agen 123)
MelisaT 2.6K viewsBesieged (Book One): Rise of the Misfit
Chinjindu Ibeneme2.8K views60000 Years Later
loveforever2.8K viewsIncredible Versatile Mage
Divine Sage262 viewsThe Coming of the Traveler
Entertainment Hub2.9K viewsNew ERA Saga
Demian Dementor1.8K viewsRangers of The Galaxy
Izzy Bee Mak2.0K views