CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE FALLEN STAR

A Light in the Sky

The battle for the Republic of the New World was over, but the scars remained. Jace, Kunle, and the survivors stood in the wreckage, catching their breath.

Then, the sky split open.

A blazing object streaked across the heavens, tearing through the atmosphere like a second sun. A deep, otherworldly roar echoed through the land as the object hurtled downward, trailing flames and black smoke.

Kunle shielded his eyes. "That's no meteor."

Jace stared, his chest tightening. "That's a ship."

The impact came seconds later. The ground quaked. A distant boom rolled across the horizon, followed by a thick plume of smoke rising from the forests of Kwara State.

Then came the moans.

Zombies, stirred by the explosion, began to shuffle toward the impact site.

Jace exhaled. "We have to move."

For two days, they followed the smoke trail. Along the way, they dodged wandering hordes, resting only when exhaustion became unbearable.

On the third day, they found it.

A massive cylindrical spacecraft, half-buried in the ground, lay at the end of a long trench of scorched earth and uprooted trees. The hull was charred and cracked, its outer layers peeled away from the heat of re-entry.

But this wasn't an alien craft.

Stamped on the side was a faded emblem:

Nigerian Space Research & Development Agency (NSRDA).

Kunle whistled. "This thing's one of ours?"

Jace placed a hand on the warm metal. "Looks like it."

Reed frowned. "So... someone was up there when the world ended?"

Before anyone could answer, a metallic groan came from the ship's partially open hatch.

Something or someone was inside.

Jace and Kunle climbed through the damaged entry point, stepping into the dark, ruined interior.

The air reeked of burned plastic, fuel, and something... stale.

Then they heard it.

A weak cough.

Jace turned his flashlight toward the sound.

Huddled in the corner, wrapped in a tattered, blackened space suit, was a man.

His helmet's visor was cracked, revealing a gaunt, dark-skinned face, covered in sweat and grime. His lips were cracked, his breath ragged.

His name patch read:

AFOLAYAN EDWARD NIGERIAN SPACE RESEARCH & DEVELOPMENT AGENCY

Jace crouched beside him. "Hey! You okay?"

The astronaut's eyelids fluttered open. His eyes were sunken, haunted.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he rasped:

"...Am I home?"

They carried Edward out of the wreckage and gave him water. His body was weak and malnourished. Yet his body was restless, tormented.

As the others watched, he began to speak.

"I was... supposed to come home," Edward said, his voice hoarse.

His hands trembled as he gripped the soil, feeling the Earth beneath him.

"I was on the Olumo-7 Mission-the last Nigerian space expedition. We launched a year before... before all this." He gestured at the ruins of civilization.

Kunle frowned. "You were stuck up there when the world fell?"

Edward nodded. "I watched from the station as the world went dark. communications cut off. No rescue. Just... silence."

Jace imagined it-drifting alone in orbit, watching the apocalypse unfold beneath you, unable to do anything.

"I survived on emergency rations and tried to reach anyone. But there was no one left."

For months, he orbited the Earth, hoping for a miracle.

Then, one day, he saw he was on his last can of food supply.

That was when he knew he had to get back.

Edward found an old escape pod that wasn't for full re-entry. But it was his only chance.

"The systems were falling," he muttered. "I had no trajectory, no landing site. Just a broken machine and a prayer."

Somehow, against impossible odds, he made it through the atmosphere.

As they chatted a Military man walked through the smoke, and stopped right before them.