Critical Path

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Sacrifice isn’t the end of something; it’s the beginning. Denver knew this before his father, Charlie, gave up his life to bring down the two alien ships. But Denver wasn’t so naïve to believe that the work was done.

On the contrary, the real challenge was still ahead of them.

He wiped sweat from his brow. The salty liquid made his tanned forearm shine in the morning sun. It was no more than 0800. Charlie had taught him how to tell the time from the sun’s position when he was just a child. Over the years, he’d built up an almost unnatural ability to know it instinctively, analyzing the length and direction of shadows.

He stood in a dappled clearing five kilometers north of their new base—Freetown, a repurposed croatoan farm that remained inactivated due to it being farther north than their terraforming operation. The shadows from the crumbled remnants of a wooden hunting shack covered the damp, loamy ground.

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