2025-09-02 17:17:28
Neo MoroengThank you for walking with me through The General’s Logs. This chapter was one of the most difficult and rewarding I’ve written so far, because it carries the weight of decades—pain that refuses to fade, love that refuses to die, and choices that echo far beyond a single lifetime. For me, this is the heart of The Red Rock: not just the clash of ships or the roar of battle, but the quiet, unrelenting ache of what victory costs. Ka’ri’s presence, even in absence, is a force that defines the General as much as any war ever did. Nancy’s transformation is another kind of victory, one forged in silence, resilience, and alien grace. Together, they frame the story’s central truth: peace does not erase scars—it makes them more visible. -N.M
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Chapter 100: The Super-Basement
The air in the super-basement was heavy, metallic, and still. Dust motes drifted in the half-darkness, caught in the flickering light of emergency strips that pulsed weakly along the concrete pillars. Rows of cars—sleek shuttles, utility transports, armored vans—sat like sleeping beasts, their shadows long and jagged in the low light. Nancy pressed her back to a support column, her arms wrapped tightly around her son and daughter, their small bodies trembling against her. Every muscle in her body was a live wire, straining against the silence. Somewhere in the cavernous dark, something was moving. The Rake. She heard it—soft scrapes of claws against concrete, the dry, skittering drag of something heavy over steel. It was not hunting like a beast of instinct. It was listening. Testing. Waiting. She motioned for the children to stay low. Her son’s eyes, so like his father’s, were wide, his jaw clenched tight around the fear he refused to voice. Her daughter had her face buried in Nanc
Chapter 99: The Vigilant's Dilemma
The Vigilant was a ghost ship sailing home, its silence broken only by the low hum of its engines and the soft weeping of its captain. The bridge crew moved like shadows, their faces still etched with the aftermath of Riva's shattered mind. Then, a voice cut through the solemn quiet—UN Space Force, hailing on a secure, emergency channel.The General, still a statue of grief at the main viewer, turned slowly. "Report."The voice on the comms was thin, panicked, and strained by a distant, rolling thunder. "General, we have a threat alert. Confirmed Rake infestation. It's not an assault, it's... a concentrated cluster. They popped up out of nowhere. No warning. Following Riva’s last logic—they’re moving through the 'walls' of reality. They are inside our perimeter. The epicenter is... Mahikeng."The word hit the General like a physical blow. Mahikeng. A place of laughter, of life, of hope. The place where Nancy had been waiting for him. The place where she was last seen alive."My city,"
Interlude: Hybristophilia
The comms unit in !Xam's widow's luxurious Martian apartment chimed with a secure, frantic hail. The sound was an unwelcome intrusion into her serene afternoon, but a glance at the caller ID made her thin, crimson lips curve into a smile. She answered, her face a mask of mild curiosity that quickly morphed into cold fascination. Ta'klan's face appeared on the screen, distorted by grief, panic, and static. He was barely coherent, his voice a raw scrape of sound. “//Xóre my love...She’s gone... Riva is... it's all gone wrong. I did it for us. I did it to be clever, like you said. But it... it looked back. It burned her. Her mind is just... gone.” He was a shattered man, seeking absolution, comfort, anything from the woman he thought was his anchor. //Xóre listened, her expression shifting. Initially, there was a flicker of impatience for his weakness. But as he described the magnitude of his failure—the catastrophic, irreversible damage he caused in his attempt to prove himself—her eye
Chapter 98: The Silent Space
The bridge was a tomb of silent anticipation. The crew, still paralyzed by the General’s stony command, watched the two figures at the psionic station. Ta’klan knelt beside Riva, his hand resting on the console, his presence a silent anchor in the gathering storm. He was a soldier preparing for a different kind of combat, one fought not with plasma cannons and shields, but with thought and will. The hum of the ship’s engines was a distant memory, replaced by the frantic beating of his own heart. He looked at Riva, her face pale beneath the soft glow of the console, and thought of all the moments they had not had. The whispered conversations, the shared jokes, the quiet glances across the bridge—they were all leading to this. He had not fought for a glorious victory, but for a future he now knew was terrifyingly uncertain.He watched her eyes close, the fine lines of strain etched around them. A single tear traced a path down her cheek, not of sorrow, but of concentration so intense it
Chapter 97: The Unseen Map
Ta'klan returned to the bridge, but he was a different man. The simmering rage was gone, replaced by a cold, surgical calm. He moved with a new purpose, his eyes sweeping over the consoles not with frustration, but with a quiet, predatory focus. He saw the bridge crew, their faces still etched with the humiliation of their strategic defeat. He saw the General, still motionless before the main viewer, a pillar of stubborn resolve. He also saw Ensign Elara Riva, trembling slightly at her station, her face pale, lost in the echoes of her terrifying vision.He did not approach the General. His mission was no longer about orders or protocols. His mission was about proving his own worth to a woman who had seen the cosmic game from the inside. The General was still playing chess on a board that no longer existed. Ta'klan had to find the unseen map.He strode to Riva's station, his movements quiet and deliberate. He leaned over her console, his voice a low, steady murmur meant only for her."W
Chapter 96: The Widow's Counsel
The bridge was a tomb of silent defeat. The General, his face a mask of stone, stood staring out at the void. The tension was immense, a physical weight that pressed down on every crew member. We had been outmaneuvered. The Gilders had not just evaded us; they had played us, forcing us to reveal our position and our intent without a single shot fired from our side. It was a strategic humiliation.Ta'klan’s hands, usually a blur of confident motion across his console, were still. He felt the cold rage of a hunter who had let his prey mock him. Discipline was a brittle thing, and he wanted to shatter it. He wanted to rage, to fire, to do anything to prove that they were not the passive audience the Gilders believed them to be.He felt the General’s gaze upon him, a silent command for him to hold his position, a demand for the same agonizing restraint that was suffocating them all. Ta'klan’s jaw ached. He didn't meet his commander’s eyes.“General,” he said, his voice flat, emotionless. “
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