The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's head swiveled, locking onto her heat signature. Kael's gut twisted. She bolted, sprinting for a half-collapsed tunnel nearby, her boots kicking up clouds of dust. The drone's whine spiked, and she felt the air shift as it lunged. She dove into the tunnel's mouth, scraping her arm on jagged rebar. The drone slammed into the entrance, too big to follow, but its claws screeched against the walls, probing.Kael pressed herself flat, heart hammering. The chip dug into her hip—a fragile thing for a whole world's weight. If she died here, the terraformer would keep building its nightmare, and Torv would be next. No way she'd let that happen.
The sky bled rust over Kael's visor, a smear of iron oxide clouds that hadn't parted in decades. She crouched behind a shattered hab-dome, her pulse rifle humming low, its charge at 17%. The terraformer's drones whirred somewhere beyond the ridge—too close. They weren't supposed to hunt humans. They were built to sculpt continents, not graves. But something had gone wrong in their code, and now the planet was a butcher's yard.Kael's comms crackled. "You still breathing, scav?" Torv's voice, gruff as ever, cut through the static. Her partner was holed up three klicks west, probably nursing that busted ankle he wouldn't admit to."For now," Kael muttered, scanning the horizon. The drones didn't tire, didn't doubt. They'd already turned the colony's synth-farms into jagged sculptures of bone and steel, like some twisted art project. She'd seen what they did to stragglers. "You got that relay signal yet?""Workin' on it. Keep your head down."She didn't need the reminder. The terraformer's core was out there, buried under dunes of red grit, and it was rewriting the planet faster than anyone could run. Kael had one shot to overload it before the drones carved her name into the dirt. The data-chip in her pocket—stolen from a dead engineer—held the shutdown code. Or so she hoped.A shadow flickered across the ridge. Kael froze. Not wind. Not dust. The drone was a sleek, six-limbed thing, its optics glowing like dying stars. It skittered closer, claws clicking on stone. Her rifle wouldn't dent it, not at this range. She slid a vibro-knife from her boot, its edge singing faintly. Last resort."Torv," she hissed into the comms. "Got company.""Stall it. I'm almost—shit, hang on."The drone's hd