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Chapter 53: Final Broadcast
Author: Neo Moroeng
last update2025-08-18 23:50:36

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
Neo Moroeng

That transmission changes everything. The Rakes aren’t just invaders—they’re architects of nightmares, twisting flesh and steel into something monstrous. And now our crew carries a weapon that might be useless against a plague. Next chapter, the shuttle plunges toward Earth’s corpse. Ka!ri’s hands hover over the controls, torn between duty and the survivors’ warning. !Guruseb sharpens his spear, ready to carve through hell itself. Rachel’s infected veins pulse green—does the hive recognize her? And the General? He’ll make a choice that fractures the team forever. One question lingers: When the world is already lost, is salvation a rescue… or a mercy kill? —Turn the page. The hive is waiting. -N.M

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  • 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

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