I never thought I’d miss the smell of rain. Now, crouched in the ruins of Denver’s old subway tunnels, all I taste is ash and rust. My hands tremble as I replay the final transmission from Mars Base Kepler—just static, then a voice, not human, repeating one phrase in perfect English: 'Contamination detected. Purge cycle initiated.'

That was three weeks ago. Since then, twelve million are dead. The skies burn red at dusk, like the planet itself is bleeding.

Rhea slams her fist against the cracked monitor. 'We’re out of time. They’re moving toward the Rockies. If they activate the atmospheric converter, the entire hemisphere becomes uninhabitable.'

Lina turns to me, her eyes wide. 'Elias, the signal—we can reverse it. But it requires someone to get inside a command node. It’s suicide.'

Kaito hands me a damaged neural link. 'You were the first to hear them. Maybe… you’re the only one who can make them listen.'

The weight of the device burns in my palm. This isn’t just a mission. It’s a confession. A plea. Or a final act of defiance.