On the distant world, untouched by Earth's chaos, life went on.
The camp had grown into something more permanent. Wooden shelters replaced tents. Gardens sprouted near the river. The crew had accepted the truth—no one was coming.
Rose stood on a hill one evening, watching the suns dip below the horizon. Edward joined her, his hands behind his back.
"You still wait for a signal?" he asked.
She nodded, eyes distant. "Every night. But deep down…" Her voice cracked, then steadied. "Deep down, I know. We're alone."
Edward placed a hand on her shoulder. "Then we make this world ours." It was the first time Rose leaned into someone for comfort.
Meanwhile, Josh and Jane's bond grew in its own messy, clumsy way. Josh still teased her endlessly, but his mischief had softened. One night, as Jane tended the fire, Josh sat beside her.
"You know, Doc, you blush every time I talk to you. You might as well admit you like me."
Jane's cheeks flamed. "Again with this? Don't flatter yourself, Josh McTavish."
But her smile betrayed her.
Donald, watching them from across the fire, smiled softly. In his journal he wrote: "Love has bloomed on this strange Earth. Perhaps that is the true mission of Elpis—to begin again."
Months passed. And then—the first cries of a newborn broke the stillness of camp. Jane held her son, tears streaming down her cheeks. Josh stood beside her, gentler than anyone had ever seen him.
Not long after, Rose and Edward welcomed their own daughter. Rose, the hardened commander, cradled her child with trembling hands, whispering promises of a brighter future.
Donald wept openly, calling them the first children of Elpis. He became their grandfather, telling them stories of baseball, old songs, and Earth's forgotten skies. The camp no longer felt like a mission. It felt like home.