The silence on the bridge wasn’t just an absence of sound; it was a physical weight. Darryl sat in the command chair, the hiss of static his only reply. His broadcast had gone out into a void. It was all gone. Mars, the moon bases, Earth Command. But there was one last thing. The personal messages. Stacey.
“Sentinel,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Bring up my personal messages.”
“Accessing encrypted legacy channel archives, Darryl,” the AI replied. A holographic window appeared in front of him, listing several video files. They were dated, starting about a week after communications went dark. His eyes scanned the list, stopping on the very last one. It was labeled “From Leo.” A cold dread washed over him. Why would the last one be from Leo? He had to know. He reached out a trembling finger and tapped it, choosing to start at the end.
Stacey’s face appeared. She looked skeletal, her eyes hollowed out, her skin pale. She was alone, and the sight of her sent a shock of pure fear through him.
“Hi, Dad,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Leo… he went out. To try and get this signal boosted. He wanted to make sure you got this. I don’t… I don’t think he’s coming back.”
She started to sob, deep, wrenching sounds that echoed in the dead silence of the bridge. Darryl felt his own tears welling up, his body frozen by an agony he couldn’t yet comprehend.
“It’s over,” she said, looking right at him, right through the years and the silence. “The ash… it’s blocked out the sun completely. The nukes and the volcano, they finished everything. We have maybe a few weeks of air left. If that.”
She wiped her eyes, trying to be strong. “I just wanted you to know. And I wanted to say… I love you, Dad. I love you and Mom so much. I wish I could just see you one more time.” She gave a watery, heartbreaking smile. “You and mom… you stay up there. You survive. Somehow you survive, Okay?”
“And your grandkids… I’m so sorry you never got to meet them. Watch the other videos, Dad. Please. You can see them grow up. They are so beautiful.”
She was losing her composure completely now. “I love you. Goodbye, Dad. Tell Mom… tell Mom I love her.”
The screen went black.
Darryl just sat there, the words washing over him. Grandkids? It’s over? He couldn’t process it. It was a story without a beginning. He made a sound, a raw, guttural noise of confusion and pain. He was about to demand answers from Sentinel when the AI spoke.
“The ship is beginning its rotation, Darryl. Earth will be in view shortly.”
His eyes were pulled away from the blank screen to the main viewport. The view of space was slowly being replaced. But it wasn’t the familiar blue and white swirl of home.
It was brown.
A dead, brown sphere, completely covered in a thick, ugly haze. There were no oceans. No continents. No blue. Just a dirty, silent ball of dust hanging in the void. The raw, visual proof was a punch to the gut. It was all true. Earth was gone.
His hands shook as he turned back to the holographic window. He numbly navigated to the next video file, the one titled “Dad.” He had to understand how. He pressed play.
Stacey’s face filled the screen again. This time she just looked tired, her hair pulled back against the same gray concrete wall. It was her before the end, before the final, hollowed-out despair.
“Dad,” she started, her voice strained, but strong. “If you’re seeing this… I don’t know. I hope you are.” She took a deep breath. “Things went bad. Really bad. It started with a comms blackout. A group of terrorists out of North Korea… they hacked everything. Shut it all down. Space stations, ground control… everything. That’s why you stopped hearing from us.”
Darryl leaned forward, his heart pounding. The story was filling itself in, each detail a fresh stab of pain.
“Then they got into the nuclear arsenal,” she continued, a tear finally escaping and tracing a path down her cheek. “They started launching… at us, at everyone. But they made a mistake, Dad. A horrible, horrible mistake. One of the missiles… it hit Yellowstone.”
The supervolcano. The final puzzle piece fell into place, revealing the full, monstrous picture.
“We’re in a shelter,” Stacey said. “Me, Leo, and the kids.” She paused. “I so want you to meet them.” She stood up and walked through a doorway. The view shifted to a small room with cots. A man with a kind face looked up and gave a small, weary wave. And next to him, two small children, a boy and a girl, were huddled under a blanket, playing with a small toy. “This is Leo. And that’s Tammy and little Brian.”
Grandkids. Seeing them now, alive and innocent, after already hearing their death sentence, was a unique and exquisite form of torture. The thought was a dagger of joy and pain so sharp it took his breath away. He was watching his own family in their tomb, knowing how the story ended.
He slammed his fists on the console, the pain in his hands nothing compared to the black hole that had just opened up in his soul. His daughter. His grandkids. His wife sleeping peacefully one deck below, with no idea she was a widow to a dead world. Everyone. Everything. Gone.
He slumped forward, his head in his hands, his whole body wracked with violent, silent sobs. He was the caretaker of a graveyard, orbiting a tomb.
“I am sorry for your loss, Darryl,” Sentinel said quietly. The AI’s voice was devoid of programmed humor now, just a simple, flat statement of fact in the crushing, absolute silence. Daryll ignore it.