The Eight of Earth

PROLOGUE: Archie Abernathy- *Journal*

The Antarctic sand bleeds in between my fingers and vanishes into the howling winds of the desert. Heat radiates off the dunes along the horizon, swirling gusts kicking up in all directions. I stare. A heaviness burrowing inside me as the scorched landscape I gaze upon taunts me. Eerie waves of tension scratching at my skin, just as the sand does. This morning, Terry asked me how many people I thought were still alive... at this point, it can't be many.

I wouldn't have believed this was once all ice if I hadn't been shown pictures. Thirst is a silent, unstoppable death... Drought is no different.

A horn groans from the mouth of an obsolete speaker along the perimeter wall of the mountain of steel we call the Redemption. The speaker looks out of place, set against the impossible feat of technology behind it. The Redemption towers miles into the sky, the most sophisticated transportation vessel ever constructed. I sit in the shadow of its launch pad atop two insulated blankets, a tombstone of scrap metal reading my wife's name, is half-buried in the sand. I haven't mustered up the courage to say goodbye to her yet... but I'm getting there.

"It's time..." I say. The words fight their way out. This is what my angel has been reduced to; a piece of discarded hull metal. "I wish you could come with me." I remove my glove, and my skin blisters the moment it touches the metal. Tears welt in my eyes, but I had to touch her once more before I left.

The edge of the shadow is just a foot from my blankets now. My time is up.

I stand and fold the blankets under my arm and crouch down to her. My whispers seep off scorched, cracked lips whose only reprieve are the tears that stream into the corners of my mouth. I bury a creased page from my journal into the sand below her name, then turn and leave and fight every instinct in my heart that begs me to stay here with her and let the desert swallow me whole. But if humanity is to live on... I have to fly this ship.

Journal

To my son Leo... Or whoever is reading this.

Year 1: Day 1

Construction of the Redemption is complete. A flying city made of metal and hope. I've thought a lot about how to describe the feeling of stepping foot in the command center today. Sobering is a word that came to mind. Terrifying was another. I should've wiped the simulation logs after our last training session. It was the first thing that popped up when I logged into the system... Years of sim results scrolling down the screen. Most of them red. Not the most encouraging start. But I tried my best to shake that sense of dread as the crew reported today because as Terry would constantly say: "A Captain sets the tone." So that's what the crew saw; firm posture, square shoulders, confident eyes, steady voice. They saw poise...

In five days, what's left of humanity leaves Earth forever. We leave on a flying city we could never test launch. To relocate to one of six planets, we can only guess are habitable. With a crew of 330 that we can only hope is up for the task. And carrying a herd of human embryos suspended in artificial wombs we aren't positive will activate properly when we arrive.