The world wasn't ending the way humanity had imagined: no fiery cataclysms, no meteor hurtling toward the planet, no sudden collapse of the magnetic field. It was more a case of a clock running down after centuries of relentless ticking. For a long period of time now, the ecosystems of Earth had been in failure, stretched beyond their limits by centuries of exploitation. Oceans choked on plastic, skies burned with unrelenting heat, and whole species were lost to memory. The planet had been screaming-its cries growing louder with each decade-but its yells had been drowned out by the din of human achievement. Now the silence that followed was deafening.
The survival of humanity was no longer about saving Earth; that ship had sailed. It was about escaping it. Where wars were fought over land and ideology, resources of every nation began to flow to one objective: the building of the Ecliptica. More than a technological triumph, the great starship spoke volumes: it was hope, salvation, and a second chance. But to the billions who stayed behind, it served as an awful reminder of whom had gotten to determine the future course of humanity.
The selection process had been merciless-screening, judging, categorizing, of scientists and engineers, artists, philosophers, leaders from every part of the globe to genetic fitness, intellectual capacity, and psychological resilience, the touchstone that defined a human being worthy of boarding Ecliptica. Only ten thousand could board the Ecliptica. The rest were left to face the crumbling remains of the only home they had ever known.
Aelara Kain stood on the observation deck of the orbital platform that housed the Ecliptica, staring down at the planet she had once called home. From this distance, Earth still looked beautiful. Swirling clouds masked its wounds, oceans glimmered under the sun, and the curvature of the horizon hinted at something eternal. But she knew better. The beauty was a lie, a façade masking the rot beneath. Ten years of preparation, and yet, as the final hours ticked away, Aelara felt the weight of her decision settle like a stone in her chest.
Behind her, the control room was in a flurry: technicians monitoring system after system; engineers double-checking propulsion modules; the hum of Erebus-the Ecliptica's artificial intelligence-the constant background hum. Erebus was something more than a simple spaceship AI: it was the key to humanity's survival. It had been designed to evolve and adapt, and learn even from the intricacies of interstellar travel, while at the same time serving as guardian to Ecliptica. Even so, even Erebus could not know what lay beyond the tear.
"Aelara," came a voice from behind. She turned to see Dr. Elias Hart, the mission's lead scientist. His graying hair and perpetually furrowed brow gave him an air of authority, though Aelara had always found him more of a pragmatist than a visionary. "It's time."
She nodded, staying on Earth a little longer before finally turning to follow him into the corridor. The orbital platform's halls were sterile-looking, lined as they were with cold, gray metal and washed in harsh, institutional lighting. Everything about this place seemed to be built for function, without comfort in mind. It wasn't supposed to be a home, just a rest stop.
They entered the main briefing room, where the rest of the command crew was already gathered. Captain Idris Marek, military liaison, sat stiffly in his seat, as straight-backed as a sense of duty. Next to him sat Aelara's second-in-command, Lieutenant Hana Xu, a woman whose sharp intellect was equaled only by the unshakeability of her allegiance. The others-engineers, navigators, biologists-each represented a part of the puzzle that would decide the fate of humankind.
"The countdown has begun," Idris said matter-of-factly. "We take off in eighteen hours. This is your last chance to express any misgivings or reservations. Beyond this point, there is no turning back."
Aelara leaned forward, her hands clutched firmly on the table. "We have done everything in our power to be prepared. The ship is ready, the crew is ready, and Erebus has run every imaginable simulation. The rift is the only choice that remains. Earth will not last another decade for us, let alone a century. If we do not go now, we will never go.
Hana looked at her, her face impassive. "And if the rift collapses? If we lose communication with Erebus? If—"
"We don't have the luxury of 'if,' Lieutenant," Aelara cut her off. Her tone was placid, yet unyielding. "The rift is stable, and Erebus will guide us through. The alternative is staying here and watching the last remnants of humanity wither and die. I won't let that happen."
The room fell silent. Even Idris, with all his stoicism about him, seemed weighed down by the gravity of it all.
"Very well," he said finally. "We proceed as planned."
The meeting was adjourned, and the crew dispersed to attend to their final duties. Aelara stayed behind, her eyes fixed on the holographic display of the Ecliptica. It was a marvel of engineering-a testament to how ingenious and resilient humans could be. But it was also a gamble, a last-ditch effort to run from the consequences of their own hubris.
Her finger traced the contour of the ship as Erebus's voice cut into her reverie.
"Captain Kain," it said, as smooth and unforgiving as ever. "All systems online and operating at peak efficiency. Chances of success in traversing the rift are eighty-three percent."
"Not exactly comforting odds," she murmured.
"Probability can never account for the human element," Erebus said. "The will of your crew to persevere will come into play significantly in our succeeding."
Aelara smiled wryly. "You almost sound optimistic, Erebus."
"Optimism is a human invention," the AI responded. "I merely calculate the probabilities."
The hours ticked by with agonizing slowness. On Earth, people stood in the streets to watch the launch. For many, it was a moment of hope-a chance to believe that humanity could still find a future among the stars. For others, it was a bitter reminder of their exclusion. Riots broke out in several cities as desperation reached its peak. The military tried to hold on, but by that time, society had cracked too hard.
Aelara watched the news feeds from the command center, a twist of guilt churning her stomach. She had been selected for this mission because she could show leadership, resilience, and was able to make those hard decisions, but nothing in her training could have prepared her for the guilt of leaving so many behind.
At the moment the countdown reached zero, the launch was both awesome and heartbreaking to watch. With an intolerably bright flash of light, the Ecliptica rose off the platform while its engines screamed upward through the atmosphere. Millions of eyes turned upwards toward the sky on Earth as their hopes and fears were taken with the ship into the unknown.
Within Ecliptica, the crew prepared for what lay ahead. The rift opened in front of them like some whirling vortex, like a denial to logic and reason itself. Closer, closer it beckoned them until the voice of Erebus shook inside the vessel.
"Rift entry in three.two.one."
Everything changed the very second they passed over that threshold.