The children were overjoyed when the colony ship came. They ran and ran around the perimeter of the village with a sense of happiness they’d never experienced before. What the ships brought was more than just an escape, it was a promise. A promise of new life, of air not breathed through a filter, of a sky that didn’t turn off at night. To run through fields of grass like they’d seen in the books- of a life unhindered by the mistakes of the past.
For a full week, as everyone prepared to depart, flyers blanketed every inch of every wall.
    “Come aboard! Find new life on Planet B!”
    In truth, there wasn’t a soul among the colony that didn’t already know about the migration. Once it arrived, we realized it was all we had. It had been what drove us out of bed everyday, to pick up our spoons, and to pick up our tools. This promise had sustained us for generations- and now it was here.
    The ship had not landed- it was simply too big. We were only given glimpses of it through the dust layer- but the massive etheric white hull shone brightly through the hazy atmosphere. The Charon hung suspended in our skies, and we looked to it with childlike eyes of hope. Before boarding, the ship staff descended in raftships, each of the colonies were briefed on how they were going to make the trip. For us, we were the vanguard- the first to awaken at our new home. Specifically, I was. The adults and carers would be woken first alongside the staff, to make contact and prepare them for our arrival. The children and elderly were to come later.
    When we finally boarded the raftships to ascend to our herald, it was bittersweet. Once the excitement had worn thin, some of the children had hesitated- leaving behind all that they were. The ship wasn’t exactly designed with cargo space in mind- it was carrying a planetful of people, so packing had to be light. However, as the colony receded from view, the brown landscape surrounding it like an ocean of desolation, I felt as if we were being liberated. The lights in their eyes told me they were feeling the same thing.
    Each colony was given their own floor, for a total of 10. Millions of people filed into their floor, and walked the halls in awe. The sleek and clean architecture and technical advancement was something lost to almost all of the younger generations, only a few of our eldest remembered what it was like in the golden age. We arrived at our quarters, long stretching racks of cryogenic stasis chambers. Even with near-FTL travel, the journey was estimated to take more than 300 years. A small price to pay in our minds. Once our sightseeing came to a close, we were each assigned a set of clothing and a pod. There was near silence as we all settled into our chambers- the air of anticipation unable to be put into words. As I laid back in my pod, and watched the cover slide over, I closed my eyes, my head filling with dreams of what would come after.
    The first thing I remember about the waking was the heat. It started in my chest, and slowly spread throughout my entire body. As the feeling swelled and intensified, I felt as though I was going to burst. Just as it boiled over, I heard popping sounds all over, and light flooded my surroundings. A heavy hand laid itself on my shoulder, shaking me. I struggled to open my eyes, and was greeted by a familiar sight- one of the ship staff that had helped us just minutes earlier.
    Remembering my duty, I snapped back into the present all at once. After helping me out of my pod, the mans face flushed white when I asked about the status of our journey. He looked down, mumbled that it best be heard from the Captain himself. Feeling a growing pit in my chest, I followed him past rows and rows of souls toward the bridge. As we emerged, I stared past the Captain out the window, the same planet we’d left hanging in the center. All at once, their eyes seemed to run from mine- all to a console in the center of the room.
    “There was a routing error”, one of them finally spoke up. They went to finish, but I stopped them. The monitor in front of me told more than enough. The projected travel time was grayed out, and below it was a red flashing number. 3,200 Years. I fell to one knee as the pit in my chest expanded and swallowed my heart. My vision darkened and I hurled onto the floor. We had been gone for nearly eleven times the projection. The Captain quickly assured me of the salvageability of the situation, according to him no one had been adversely affected by the extra time in stasis, and that we could take them out if we felt it best. I raised my head and asked why we would need to take them out, we hadn’t even left Sol. The Captain swallowed hard, and turned away, toward the brown marble, and told me that it was our destination.
    The next few days passed in flashes. Failed attempts to hail the human settlements, taking inventory of whatever fuel and equipment had survived the trip, cataloguing and ensuring the health of our passengers. Finally, five days after our arrival, the vanguard, myself included, boarded the raftship. Descending into the atmosphere, we were forced to navigate via map, the local stratosphere was thick with dust. Breaking out towards the ground, we were met with a terrible sight. The mapped human settlement location contained nothing more than sand and ruin. The hollowed out husks of buildings barely standing, eroded and reclaimed by the environment. Despite the crew’s sentiment, the Captain insisted we land and attempt to make contact. I couldn’t see it through our helmets, but I knew the desperation in the Captain’s eyes, for it was in mine as well. The teams initial sweep of the ruins yielded nothing, no remnant of humanity. But, on the journey back to the ship, a small strip of white showed above the sand. I picked up the paper, and brushed it off.
    Three days later, and we had run through the ships’ remaining food and alcohol. Alone, I laid against a console, and stared out over our desecrated garden. My eyes drifted to the slumped bodies of the Vanguard, strewn about the room. Turning over the revolver in my hands, one of the only weapons on the ship that didn’t rely on a long dead power cell, the Captain’s words floated through my mind. “Six rounds, six of us.” Afterward, one of the staff joked about who would take care of the passengers. We all laughed. I wasn’t laughing anymore. None of them were. Rotating the chamber between my fingers, watching the light glint off the single remaining round, I stood and walked to the center console. With a wave of my hand, the panel went alight. I navigated through tab after tab, landing on what I was looking for.



    “Shutting down the Ship’s main reactor will disable all maintenance subroutines.”
     “Proceed?”
    “Warning: Disabling main reactor will disable life support.”
    “Proceed?”
    “Captain-level authorization required. Please confirm identity”
    The hand symbol flashed on the screen, and my eyes wandered to his corpse.

    “Thank you, Captain. Disabling main reactor.”
    His body slumped to the floor as I lost all will to stand. Falling to the floor with him, I propped myself up against the console. As the lights began to dim, I retrieved the paper from my back pocket, and laid it out in front of me. As I felt the cold touch of the barrel on the roof of my mouth, I read the paper aloud to no one.

    “Come aboard! Find new life on Planet C!”