2025-08-30 23:43:45
Neo Moroeng“The Garden of Unmaking” grew out of the idea that destruction is never empty—it leaves behind a pattern, a soil from which something alien can bloom. Here, the crew of the Vigilant steps into that paradox: a sanctuary that is alive, deliberate, and indifferent to their survival. I wanted this chapter to feel like wandering into a cathedral built from broken code and bone, a place where the Rake isn’t a creature but a gardener, pruning and reshaping reality itself. Rachel’s symbiotic arm and Nancy’s fractured psionics are not just weapons, but roots planted into this alien garden. They reflect how trauma and transformation entwine, how power always carries its own thorns. This chapter isn’t about triumph—it’s about realizing the battlefield itself is sentient, and that every step forward risks planting them deeper into the harvest of unmaking. -N.M
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Chapter 151: The Eldritch Awakes
It returned on silence. Across the frozen dark, a shape moved—thin, skeletal, trailing filaments that shimmered like broken glass. Its body was a cipher now, half organic, half signal. Once, it had been merely a Rake—one of thousands dispatched from the crystalline citadel when the Shepherd first called. Now, it came back alone. The stars bent around it. The void hummed with the low ache of transmission. Every pulse in its body carried stolen sound: human speech, the metallic throb of the Vigilant’s engines, the unholy whisper of the HAARP core awakening. At its heart burned one fragment of human language, looped in static: Return the fire. The Rake crossed the outer moons and descended toward the citadel, the forge-world glowing beneath it like a diseased jewel. Green plumes licked at the sky. The spires of Da’kar’s empire reached upward to receive what they had cast out. It struck the citadel’s outer membrane and did not stop. Flesh met matter, matter met code; the barrie
Chapter 150: The Leviathan Signal
The Vigilant drifted in the half-light between Mars and Earth, its hull trembling under solar wind like an old ship creaking against the tide. The stars outside were sharp enough to cut. Inside, everything hummed — systems recalibrating, metal contracting, oxygen cycling through lungs that never seemed full enough. We were alive, but only just. After everything, that word—*alive*—felt like defiance.Nancy stood at the central console, her face lit by the pulse of the HAARP core. The box — our box — sat between us, now unsealed but dormant. The air around it shimmered faintly, like heat rising off asphalt. A low resonance vibrated through the floor panels. It wasn’t loud, but it crawled through the bones. It felt like the ship itself was listening.No one spoke for a long time. The only sound was the whisper of coolant lines and the slow tick of my pulse in my ear. Then Rachel exhaled, quiet but deliberate.“It shouldn’t still be active,” she said. “We shut the circuits.”Nancy didn’t l
Chapter 149: The False Dawn
The Vigilant drifted in a slant of weak light. Dawn was rising somewhere far below the clouds, though out here it looked more like rust spreading through black water. The hull creaked as the heat of the upper atmosphere flexed the plates. For a long moment, no one spoke. We were waiting for the ship to decide whether it still wanted us.The sealed container sat in the center bay, its edges still warm from the last power surge. Nancy crouched beside it, her fingers flying over the projection screen that hovered from the console. Lines of code ran like veins of fire. Each pulse threw shadows across her face.Helene lingered near the viewport, chin high, pretending to watch the horizon. Rachel and !Gareseb sat shoulder-to-shoulder at the weapons bench, cleaning rifles that didn’t need cleaning. Hayes was on comms, pretending the static had meaning. Van Wyk lay strapped to the med-couch, a bandage blooming faintly where his shoulder wound kept re-sealing and reopening. Amani paced between
Chapter 148: Icarus Protocol
The Vigilant drifts in half-silence. The hull groans like a held breath, heat vents whispering, the red light of Mars smearing through the viewport. Every screen hums low, every shadow trembles with the residue of our escape.The cargo bay smells of ion burn and blood. We haven’t spoken much since we left the village behind—the screams, the smoke, the taste of iron in the air. There’s still dust in our suits; the kind that never settles.I stand at the observation deck, watching the wounded planet shrink below us. The box—our prize, our curse—sits bolted to the central dais, small as a coffin, quiet as confession.Nancy kneels beside it, hands poised over the embedded control pad. Her voice is steady, almost clinical. “It’s self-contained. Power cell intact. Quantum core is active.”She looks up at me through the shimmer of holographic light. “You realize what this is?”“I have suspicions.”“It’s a HAARP node. Miniaturized. Thirty-five years of classified iteration. This isn’t a relic,
Chapter 147 : The Fall of the Firewall
Olympius was no longer quiet.Adebayo’s voice ripped through the command tier, echoing off the glass panels and steel consoles. “Are the Voyagers in range?”No one dared answer. The operators exchanged glances. A thin line of sweat traced one technician’s temple as his fingers danced over the interface.“Ma’am, Voyager Three reports a partial relay. Two and Four are offline.”“Reactivate them,” Adebayo snapped. “I want a visual link over Sector Earth-Blue within ninety seconds.”She leaned over the console, her reflection fractured in the glass like a goddess divided by light. Her hair, normally immaculate, clung damp against her neck. The Olympius Command Center pulsed with warning lights, red ripples washing across the observation deck.“Deactivate the anti-Rake plasma field,” she ordered.Every head turned.“Ma’am?”“You heard me. Bring it down.”“General protocol—”“Bring. It. Down.”The operator swallowed hard. His hand trembled slightly as he entered the override. On the main dis
Chapter 146: The Broken Command Chain
The village square looked unchanged from the night before. Lanterns swayed above the mud-brick walls, their glow smudging into the early dawn. Smoke from cooking fires twisted into the mist. The sound of children—real laughter, the kind no battlefield could imitate—still drifted through the streets. But inside the safehouse, the air was taut. The team had gathered around the scarred wooden table. The maps were spread out. Weapons leaned against the walls. Everyone’s eyes turned when I entered with Helene. They knew something had happened. I didn’t waste time. “I took her to the border,” I said. The words hit harder than I’d expected. A ripple of silence spread around the table. Sefu’s jaw clenched. Rana leaned back, eyes narrowing. Even !Gareseb, usually unreadable, sat forward, as though the admission shifted the weight of the entire room. Only Helene kept her gaze steady, though her fingers drummed once against her thigh before she stilled them. “You what?” Ka!ri br
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