Chapter 05

Chapter 05

2040

The countdown began before dawn.

Accra was silent in a way Richie had never known—no horns, no music, no vendors calling into the morning. Curfew lights glowed dimly along empty streets as giant screens flickered to life across the continent. From villages without electricity to command centers buried beneath cities, Africa watched.

For the first time, not in fear.

But in hope.

Richie stood inside the launch tower, sealed into the flight suit that felt more like armor than fabric. The suit hummed softly, syncing with his biometrics, reading every breath, every hesitation.

Heart rate elevated.
Viral markers present.
Status: stable.

He closed his eyes.

Deborah’s face surfaced uninvited—not as she had died, but as she had lived. Focused. Certain. Unafraid.

“Commander Mensah,” KORA’s voice said calmly inside his helmet, “all systems are nominal.”

“Copy,” Richie replied. His voice was steady. It surprised him.

Outside, DAEDALUS-1 waited—sleek, powerful, unmistakably African in its markings. The Ghanaian flag stretched along its side, flanked by the emblem of Mensah Technologies. No weapons. No bravado. Just purpose.

His father appeared on the small screen inside the suit.

“You don’t have to do this,” the old man said, though they both knew it was already done.

“I do,” Richie replied gently. “And I will come back.”

His father swallowed. “Make us proud, boy.”

Richie nodded. “I already am.”

T-minus ten.

The engines came alive.

Vibration rippled through Richie’s bones as the world began to shake, the sound less like thunder and more like something tearing itself free.

Nine.

Africa held its breath.

Eight.

Richie felt the weight of history press against his chest—centuries of watching others reach for the stars.

Seven.

KORA monitored every system, every anomaly, every spike in Richie’s blood chemistry.

Six.

The pathogen inside him stirred.

Five.

He smiled grimly. So did I.

Four.

“DAEDALUS-1,” the launch director’s voice echoed, “you are clear for departure.”

Three.

Richie whispered, “For Deborah.”

Two.

The clamps released.

One.

Fire.

The sky split open.

DAEDALUS-1 rose on a pillar of controlled violence, carving a path through cloud and atmosphere, shaking Ghana’s coast as if the earth itself were cheering. Richie was crushed back into his seat, vision narrowing, breath forced from his lungs.

Pain came.

Then clarity.

The G-forces peaked—and passed.

Suddenly, weightlessness.

Richie laughed once, sharp and breathless, as the planet curved beneath him.

“KORA,” he said, voice thick with awe, “we did it.”

“Affirmative,” KORA replied. “You are in low Earth orbit. Ghana has entered space.”

Cheers erupted through the comms—scientists, engineers, voices breaking with emotion. Somewhere below, fireworks lit the night sky, even as millions mourned those already lost.

Richie muted the channel.

He floated toward the viewport.

Earth was beautiful.

Fragile.

And infected.

The first experiments began within hours.

Contained samples extracted from his own blood. Microgravity chambers sealed. Radiation exposure carefully calibrated.

The pathogen reacted immediately.

Its structure destabilized, folding in on itself like a collapsing star. Replication slowed. Then stopped.

Richie’s hands shook as he recorded the data.

“It works,” he whispered.

But victory came with a price.

The craft shuddered violently.

“KORA,” Richie snapped, “report!”

“Micrometeor impact,” the android replied. “Hull integrity compromised at Section C-7.”

Alarms screamed.

Richie launched himself down the corridor, heart hammering, mind already calculating trajectories and repairs. He sealed the breach manually, hands numb, breath fogging his visor.

Blood floated in red spheres.

The pathogen surged.

Richie screamed into the void—and kept working.

Hours later, DAEDALUS-1 drifted stable once more.

Richie collapsed into his seat, shaking, alive.

Below him, Africa turned slowly in the dark.

Above him, the unknown waited.

This was no longer a mission.

It was war. A war with nature.

And Richie Mensah had just crossed the point of no return.