The Sun is burning out. Planets freezing. Our solar system is going dark.
Earth, millions of miles behind, is dying.
Our suicide ship races sunward, Earth’s salvation in our cargo bay: The Re-Ignition Device.
“Captain…” I whisper.
“Chief…” She growls.
“Initial thrust was… insufficient…”
“Chief?”
“We’ll fall short.”
She nods. “Close enough for the Device to work?”
“Through inertia… eventually. We, and Earth, will be long dead. But… the Device is manual.”
“Then suit up! Leave cargo bay doors open. And take paint!”
“Captain?”
“Another ship may come along, Chief. Leave a note.”
“What should it say…?”
“You’ll think of something.”
Part 1 in a little trilogy of separate, but related stories.
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