Jason slowly drifted back to consciousness. Disorientation hit him first, how had he fallen asleep? A jolt of adrenaline surged through him as his eyes snapped open.
The ship? Did the aerospace plan work?
Oh... right. It had succeeded. He had passed out after the success.
Memories of the launch replayed in his mind like a highlight reel: the blinding flash of the nuclear detonation, the crushing G-force, the successful ascent. His heart rate spiked, blood pumping with renewed vigor. He rubbed his throbbing temples, a lingering sense of euphoria washing over him.
"Uh... how long was I out?"
The command deck was mostly empty. Only his assistant, Lily, remained at her station, quietly processing data streams.
"Three hours, Mr. Jason. I have some reports here that require your authorization." Lily's perpetually stoic face seemed to crack, revealing the faintest hint of a smile.
The girl was a workaholic, a natural stoic who rarely let her emotions surface. Logically, she should be jumping for joy like everyone else, but here she was, grinding away.
Seeing her working while he had been sleeping made Jason feel a pang of guilt. He smiled warmly. "Leave them there, I'll handle it later. Everyone has the day off. You should go back and rest, too. Don't miss the celebration in the mess hall; I authorized the release of fresh ingredients."
Lily froze for a second. Her instinct was to decline; she hated crowded social events. But after a moment's hesitation, she nodded and followed Jason out of the bridge.
It was just past 11:00 AM, ship time. The celebration was already in full swing.
It wasn't an official ceremony; it was spontaneous chaos, resembling a bustling street festival or a block party. It was loud, lively, and smelled incredible. Anyone with culinary skills had dragged out pots, pans, and induction burners to show off their best work.
Toasted artisan bread, thick-cut fries, grilled sausages, sliders, vegetable kebabs... the variety was staggering, and thanks to the government mandate, it was all free.
People drifted from stall to stall, sampling everything. Some, after tasting a dish, would declare they could do better and take over the cooking stations themselves.
Jason grabbed a pair of spicy wings, two sliders, and a skewer of grilled peppers. He ate with messy enthusiasm, his mouth greasy, thoroughly enjoying the moment. Most people were too absorbed in their own joy to notice him walking by. He didn't mind. He wasn't the Supreme Commander right now; he was just another survivor. He greeted the faces he recognized and nodded at the strangers.
He turned to say something to Lily, only to find she had vanished.
After scanning the crowd, he spotted her in a corner, clutching a massive serving bowl filled to the brim with french fries. There was a look of pure, unadulterated bliss on her face. Then she noticed Jason watching her. She froze, mid-chew, her large eyes widening in embarrassment.
It was the first time he had ever seen her look so flustered.
"Hey, Captain! You made it!"
A familiar voice boomed over the din. Jason turned to see three members of the Special Forces unit: Austin, Marcus, and Shane.
While most civilians had started calling him "Mr. Jason" or "Administrator," the military personnel couldn't break the habit. To them, he was always "Captain."
Austin offered a sharp, smiling salute. Marcus and Shane, however, were preoccupied. They were standing in front of a grill, each gnawing on a turkey leg while waiting for a roast chicken to finish cooking. Their appetites were legendary.
"Marcus? You're eating again? You've put on weight!" Jason walked over and slapped Marcus on the shoulder, slipping into their old banter.
In reality, the chubby soldier had lost a significant amount of weight during the rigorous launch preparations and actually needed the calories.
"Huh? Captain?" Marcus jumped, instinctively trying to snap to attention. The turkey leg in his hand flopped comically, and he didn't know whether to salute with it or hide it. It took him a solid three seconds to realize Jason was messing with him.
Marcus scratched his head awkwardly, his face turning a deep shade of red. "Captain! You're making fun of me again!"
"Hahaha!" The group burst into laughter.
They chatted for a while, watching the stream of people flow past. Jason felt a sudden swell of emotion. There were only fifty thousand humans left, but they were the elite highly skilled, highly educated, and now, forged in fire. This was perhaps the most cohesive humanity had ever been in its long history.
In the beginning, old Earth prejudices had lingered, racial tensions, national rivalries, the friction between East and West. But slowly, those cracks had healed. Everything from the past had been obliterated. Countries, borders, history none of it mattered in the void.
Everyone on the Noah was exceptional. There were no dead weights. Even a miner on this ship likely held a master's degree. The only differences left were skin color or place of birth, and when the history books are burned, why hate someone for where they came from?
They had bled together for six months, surviving the Agricultural Transformation and the Noah Project. That forged solidarity wouldn't vanish overnight.
Watching the joyful scene, Jason's mind began to drift toward the future.
He was happy to see their optimism. He hoped this spirit would last. The starry sky was vast and dark, and there would be battles ahead. Humanity could only survive if they held onto this tenacity.
But maintaining that spirit was hard. Entropy applied to societies as well as physics. People were prone to laziness, and once complacency set in, it was hard to root out without another life-or-death crisis.
And corruption... decay. Look at human history. Every revolution started with ideals. Every empire rose with the promise of prosperity. But give it a hundred years, and the rot sets in. Systemic failure, corruption, the decay of the spirit.
How many idealistic leaders eventually became the tyrants they once fought?
We cannot repeat the history of the Old World.
Jason knew he couldn't hold it all together alone forever. What would happen after he died? To solve this, to keep humanity sharp and combat-ready, he had already devised a series of protocols he planned to implement in the coming months...
"Look! There! It's Earth!"
A scream pierced the air, snapping him out of his thoughts.
The spacecraft was moving incredibly fast, having covered over 363,000 kilometers in just three hours. They had reached a vantage point where the Earth, the home they had longed for, was finally visible.
The crowd surged toward the observation deck. Outside the rotating habitat, there was zero gravity, making movement difficult, but the observation deck was shielded and pressurized, so spacesuits weren't required.
They pressed their faces against the glass.
But... what was this?
Where was the blue marble? Where were the sapphire oceans and the swirling white clouds?
All they saw was a gray, hazy corpse of a planet. It looked fragmented, shattered. There was no life. No blue. No green.
They had seen the satellite photos, of course. They knew the data. But seeing it with their own eyes was a visceral blow. The excitement of the launch evaporated instantly, replaced by a crushing wave of disappointment.
This was Earth. The mother of humanity. She was dead. It was a graveyard for seven billion souls.
The room fell silent. They just watched.
The blue was gone. Only ruins remained.
The weight of it settled on their chests. Some people began to weep silently. The sorrow was infectious, silencing even those who ran in late, expecting to see a beautiful view.
___
Goodbye, Mother. We are leaving.
We leave in sorrow, fleeing into the night.
We see you there,
Lying in ruin,
Desperate and lost.
Once, you were vibrant and young,
Blue skies and white clouds could not capture your grace,
Oceans deep could not hold your mystery.
But sigh, the past is dust.
You have passed away,
Crumbled into the void.
We have no mother now.
Only a lonely universe.
A dark universe.
We have no kin.
We will never again see,
That touch of blue.
We are your last children,
Your final pride.
Goodbye, Mother. We go now,
Flying toward the distant stars.
Perhaps, we shall return.
Perhaps, we never will.