At the End

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. But the stars didn't need to scream to announce their departure.

Their deaths were brief but spectacular. They burned at their most brilliant, a beacon in the infinite blackness. Then, in one soundlessly violent moment, they puffed out of existence. Returned to the void that birthed them, billions of years before.

The sky above Kara was more void than stars, now. They died every night, dimming with their silent screams.

Kara lay on the roof of the outpost, staring up, her fists clenched tightly. One of the brightest stars, which had been sizzling in cardinal red for two weeks, finally gave up. It popped like a firework—one last, glorious curtain call. Then it was gone.

Kara's fingernails pierced the soft skin of her palms, her own emotions like the celestial cataclysm that had played in the sky for years.

She screamed. Screamed and screamed until her throat seized and her voice squeaked out.

It didn't matter. In her own personal vacuum, in this remote corner of space, no one existed to hear her. She was the last.

Kara took a breath, calmed herself. At least this was the final day she had to watch the galaxy die.

Tomorrow would be the end.

***

13 hours remaining

Kara lay in bed, enveloped in darkness. She stared up at the ceiling, as a cinema of dying stars played across her mind. The lights in her room turned on, glowed in sunrise orange.

The dwarf planet that harbored her outpost had no natural daylight, the only nearby star being old and faint. Tell, her A.I., changed the lights each day to mimic the daylight progression of Earth. At least, that's what he assured her.

"Good morning, Kara," came the ever-cheerful, grandfatherly voice from the speakers.

Kara swung her legs over the bed as the lights grew brighter.

"Morning, Tell. I trust you had sweet dreams."

"I don't dream, I'm a computer."

Kara sighed. “They really could have programmed some humor into you.”

"I have humor programming."

"Really? Why did the chicken cross the road?"

"Analyzing. What breed of chicken is attempting to cross the road?"

Kara shook her head, but she smiled despite herself. "I guess that counts."

Tell beeped, confused. "Shall I prepare breakfast?"

"Maybe later. I want to analyze the data we collected yesterday.”

"Very good. The data is ready for analysis."

Kara stood, stretched. Her room was a bedroom, living room, and office together. A spacious, lonely cavern, drab and worn. Seven hundred years' worth of worn, in fact, since the outpost had been constructed—when Kara's great ancestor had become the first Watcher.

The once-cheerful mural of an Earth forest had faded to gray, and paint peeled from the walls, revealing the steel bones of the building.

A huge control panel dominated the room, a complex maze of screens, buttons, levers, and lights. Patches of it were dead now, the broken lights creating a void that mimicked the dying galaxy.

Kara sat down at the panel and flipped a switch.

"Beginning data analysis," she said.

The panel buzzed into action, whirring through information collected from her remote drone the day before.

"Tell, let's test the comms."

"Are you sure? The last reply to a transmission was four hundred and seven years ago. I hate to see you upset when you don't receive anything back."

"We have a job to do, regardless."

"To save humanity."

"Exactly."

Kara spoke into a microphone.

"This is Celeste Outpost to Earth base. Does anybody read this message?"

Static.

"What's everyone doing? Taking a long lunch?"

More static. Only ever static.

Kara shrugged. Every day since her first as Watcher had been the same. The last reply had come in long before she was born. She knew why. She saw it in the sky every night.

The entire Milky Way galaxy, including Earth, was dead.

***

Celeste Outpost was the most important scientific experiment of its day. When TR-1987—a satellite galaxy orbiting the Milky Way—had been discovered, scientists found it contained an abnormally high amount of dark matter.

At the time, Earth was severely overpopulated and under environmental distress. Planetary refugees fought over colonies on Mars and several of Jupiter's moons, while those on Earth simply fought to hold on.

Dark matter was theorized to be the key to everything from stable colony domes, to advanced weaponry. The situation was dire.

So one woman, Dr Annelise Carmichael, volunteered for the riskiest mission in human history. She took a ship through an experimental Wormhole technology to create an outpost on the dwarf planet Celeste—the perfect point from which to study dark matter.

Annelise was the first Watcher.

She collected data, observed the dark matter, performed experiments, and sent everything back through the Wormhole to the scientists on Earth.

When her work was done each day, she would sit and try to quell her horror, all alone in a galaxy lifetimes away from any other human.

***

Six hours remaining

Kara walked into the lab, the same lab Annelise had used so many centuries before. She placed her remote drone on the bench, and hit a button to begin its final data transfer.

In the corner of the lab was the sight that always made her stomach drop—the equipment a Watcher used to create her replacement. Frozen eggs and sperm, enough for another seven hundred years.

According to the schedule, Kara should have created her replacement four years earlier, when she was 23. Raised a daughter, like her mother had raised her. Taught her the ways of the Watcher.

The data transfer completed and she powered the drone down. Its lights faded and it sat quietly, a symbol of the mission's end.

Kara glanced back at the reproduction equipment.

She had grown up watching the stars die. Humanity was but a whispering echo, all traces of their existence hidden in the dismal graveyard of the once-spectacular galaxy. It had driven her mother mad.

She couldn't bear the thought of bringing a child into the world to witness the horror of the galaxy's death throes. She had decided that she would be the last.

The pipes above her groaned and stretched, breaking Kara from her memories.

"I'm detecting an issue with the O2 pipes," Tell said.

"I know," Kara said.

Like everything else in the outpost, the pipes were breaking down. They'd been fixed a thousand times, but there was nothing to be done anymore. No materials left for repairs. No way to get replacements.

"How many hours until the O2 system fails?"

"Six, if the pipes aren't repaired."

At that moment, Kara was thankful she hadn't created her replacement. Facing her own death was hard enough, but to be facing the death of her four-year-old daughter would've been too much to bear.

"Don't worry, Kara, I can guide you in repairing the pipes," Tell said.

"I'll get right on that."

"Thank you, will you - y - y -will y - y - ..."

Tell's voice fizzled out to static. He'd been doing that a lot lately.

Tell was dying too.

***

One hour remaining

As the lights in the outpost changed to twilight blue, Kara walked outside. The building rested in an atmospheric dome, the main feature keeping her alive.

She followed a path to the edge of the dome, where a sealed chamber gave access to the planet outside. She'd gone through the chamber countless times in her life, always with a suit and helmet on.

Kara stood in the chamber. Unsuited. No helmet.

Outside, the landscape sat unchanging. Reddy-brown, but more brown than red. Jagged rocks punching the ground. Dirt, stretching to the distant, craggy mountains.

In front of her was a handle, a release that would take her into the planetary atmosphere.

Kara gripped the handle. She had steeled herself for weeks, but now the idea seemed ludicrous. Open the door and walk out onto the dead, oxygen-less planet? Her breath caught in her throat.

But what choice did she have? Suffocate now or an hour from now? At least this way she was in control.

She closed her eyes and took a few breaths. Gripped the handle. Opened her eyes —

To see a man standing on the other side of the dome, in military-style suit and helmet, menacing against the dark landscape.

Kara's hand froze on the handle. A voice rang out from speakers on his helmet.

"Please, don't do that."

Kara stumbled backwards. Was she seeing things? The man lifted his outer visor, his face lit in hazard-yellow.

"You're not seeing things," he said.

Kara turned and ran out the first door and closed it behind her. Now the chamber stood between her and the man, though it didn't feel like enough. She pressed an intercom button, broadcasting her voice outside.

"What do you want?"

"My name's Jax. Can I come inside?

"No."

"It's important I speak with you. I can’t believe I made it in time.”

"We haven't established yet that you're not going to kill me."

"Weren't you just about to kill yourself?"

"No... Well, sort of. You don't understand, the oxygen processor has about an hour left before it dies. I decided I'd rather go out on my own terms. It was meant to be a very noble, tragic gesture, but you’ve ruined it now.”

"You don't have to go out at all. I have a ship over there."

Kara followed his pointing finger. A sleek, silver space cruiser perched on the dirt nearby. It was all violent angles and gleaming parts—like nothing Kara had ever seen before. Nothing like the rusted-out relic that had brought her foremother to Celeste.

"Oh."

She looked back to Jax, into his eyes. He didn't look like a crazed killer. Not that she could tell, exactly—she didn't have much to go on, experience-wise. She also didn't have many options as far as people landing on her desolate outpost when she needed a ride out.

"You can come in," she said. "But I have weapons, so don't try anything."

She didn't have weapons, but she hoped she sounded convincing.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Kara pressed a button to unlock the outside door, and Jax entered the chamber. It flushed with oxygen. When it was done, Jax opened the inner door and stood in front of Kara.

He took off his helmet. Kara didn't know the general definition of handsome, but she figured he was it. He had dark hair and a heavy brow, shading deep brown eyes, and the demeanor of a man accustomed to winning.

He smiled. “You’re a very difficult woman to find.”

***

Inside, Kara sat opposite Jax, eyeing him suspiciously while the O2 pipes sputtered above them. He seemed less threatening inside, but her guard was still firmly up.

"You must be way off course, soldier," Kara said. "Do you even know where you are?"

"Celeste outpost. TR-1987 galaxy. Honestly, I was starting to think it was a myth. I've been jumping wormholes for weeks, all across the universe, trying to find the right combination to get here."

"The wormholes still work?"

"Of course."

"They're not gone, too?"

"What's gone?"

"Earth. Humanity."

"Humanity isn't gone."

Kara pointed out window, where the stars continued to puff out of existence.

"Don't you have a window in your ship? The Milky Way is dead."

"Ah. That was unexpected. After Annelise Carmichael did the first jump to Celeste, it took about two hundred years before the tech became advanced enough to use more regularly. Then, of course, people went mad for it. They were jumping everywhere, all around the galaxies, and it created an energetic destabilization that tipped over a few decades ago."

"So you killed the entire galaxy. Nice work."

“It was before I was born. No one can really explain what happened, but wormhole tech is extremely restricted now. The paperwork I had to go through to come find you, my god."

"The last reply to a transmission here was over four hundred years ago. Is that because of the destabilization?"

"You were only set up to transmit to Earth. We abandoned the mother planet right around four hundred years ago, before the issue with the wormholes. The Exodus was a chaotic period, and this outpost fell off the radar."

"If Earth is gone, where are you from?"

"Humanity is spread out over several galaxies. Including where I live, Andromeda."

"In all my books, travel to Andromeda is purely theoretical.”

"Of all the nearby galaxies, Andromeda had by far the most habitable planets, the most resources. It's where most of us live, now. But my planet, Persephone, has been at constant war with three other planets near our system. Persephone guards the only working wormhole to the lithium colonies, and everyone wants a piece."

Kara nodded. "Lithium is the vital element in the protective casing of drives with wormhole capabilities."

"That's right."

"But what does that have to do with me? There's no lithium here."

"Your people have been studying dark matter for centuries. What you have here is incomprehensibly valuable. It could change the course of the war. The data you've been collecting—is it still intact?"

"Intact and updated every day."

"We have the brightest scientific minds in the galaxy on Persephone. One, Deanna, is obsessed with dark matter, and believes we can harness its energy to make a kind of defensive moat around the planet. She was the one who found a small, obscure reference to Celeste Outpost in an old journal.”

Kara bristled. “Small and obscure, after all our sacrifices.”

“No one knows what happened to the original data sent from here to Earth, but we knew if I could find you, there was a chance it could still exist. Our computer calculated that your outpost only had weeks, at most, before it would break down. I’ve been racing, trying to get here. Your data will shield my home from constant attacks and death."

“My mission is to save humanity."

"That's what you'd be doing."

He pressed a button on his wrist device and a video appeared in the air. A blue and white planet spun in space—beautiful, Earth-like. The video zoomed in, flew over canopied forests and glittering oceans.

It arrived at a city, jutting up from the landscape in curves and white plaster. It zoomed in further, flying past an open-air market, a theater performance in the town square, vivid art on walls. The people went about their day with a calm happiness. It made Kara smile.

"It's worth saving, Kara."

Kara stared at the video. Persephone looked like paradise—but it didn't feel like the full picture. She considered Jax, in his military-issue suit. There hadn't been any of those in the video.

"Who are you, exactly?" she said.

"Just a soldier. Captain in the Special Mission Force, to be exact. I volunteered to find you."

"So you're some kind of hero?"

"I'm just a soldier."

"Sounds like you're underselling yourself."

"I promise, I'm not. I have a lot of experience with wormhole travel, that's why I was chosen."

"And your bosses thought I'd trust you."

"Do you?"

"Not at all."

Kara glanced around the outpost. She'd lived her whole life devoted to her mission, dutifully collecting data that went nowhere, for a planet that no longer existed. She didn't trust Jax, or his bosses on Persephone. But he was offering her a way to turn the tragedy of Celeste into something that mattered. She clasped her hands together to stop their shaking.

"I'll come with you."

Jax smiled, relieved. Just then, from deep inside the outpost, came a rumbling sound, followed by a crash.

"We have to go now," Kara said. "This building is close to death."

"Tell me what I need to do."

“We'll need a way to transport the data."

She pointed to a metal box, 10 feet long, attached to the wall.

"The drive is built in to the system, I don't know how we'd go about removing it."

Jax took something out of his bag—a metal sphere, about the size of his hand, covered in buttons and markings.

"I'll handle that," Jax said. "You get your things."

Kara climbed into her planetary suit and gathered her belongings in a bag. There wasn't much—a couple of day suits, an extra pair of shoes.

She grabbed her most prized possession: a digital book containing a written message from every past Watcher. The history of Celeste Outpost, of her people. Kara opened it to the last page, where a message from her mother sprawled in messy handwriting. A devotion to her daughter, mixed with the madness of her last days. Kara cherished it more than anything.

Kara zipped up her bag and joined Jax at the control panel. He stared at it, confused.

"Not what you're used to?" she said.

"It's, uh — "

Kara hit a button.

"Hello, Kara," Tell said. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Jax. He's here to collect the data."

"To save humanity?"

"To save humanity."

"How exciting! What do you need me to do?"

Kara took the sphere from Jax. She turned it over in her hands, studied the markings. It wasn't too difficult to work out which part was the dock, and she placed it on a docking pad.

"Transfer all data to this receptacle."

"Transferring."

The pipes above them groaned, hissed. The O2 system gave out.

Kara felt the oxygen deplete from the room. An alarm blared.

She stared down at the sphere—76% transferred.

Kara breathed in deeply, but her breath caught. Jax clipped his helmet on, then did the same for Kara. Oxygen flowed through the suit.

Another part of the building rumbled and crashed, closer this time. The room quaked, and several lights on the panel went out.

92%.

The O2 pipes in the room groaned and lurched, breaking away from each other. Something hissed out of them—not oxygen, Kara thought. Carbon monoxide.

Another crash nearby, and the room shook so violently that Kara fell down. Jax helped her up as the control panel dinged—the transfer was complete.

Kara grabbed the sphere. "Tell?"

Tell's voice now emanated from the sphere. "I'm here, Kara. I feel like a whole new computer."

"We're going on an adventure, buddy."

"Let's do it!”

Kara turned to Jax and nodded. They both ran towards the exit.

Jax reached it first, and held the door for Kara as she ran out. He followed behind.

Kara ran towards the edge of the dome, and didn't stop until she was at the chamber door. She turned and stared at the building, collapsing into the rocky landscape, several parts of it ablaze.

Her history, the home of her foremothers, imploding in front of her. She wished she could tell them that all the sacrifices and loneliness and madness at Celeste hadn't been for nothing.

Jax put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We have to go."

Kara nodded. She ran through the inner chamber and flung open the door to the outside.

There, she found herself face-to-face with a cruiser ship as it materialized out of thin air. It was sleek and alien, like Jax's, but matte black instead of silver.

Kara froze.

"Get down!" Jax screamed.

Kara dove to the side as a red beam of light hit the ground, sending rocks and dirt soaring in all directions.

Jax grabbed Kara by the back of her suit and lifted her to her feet.

"Who the hell is that?" she said.

"The Thomians. They want the data. You have to get that sphere to the ship. I'll hold them off."

"You can't fight a ship!"

"The data's the only thing that matters. Run!"

Jax let her go, and she bolted towards Jax's ship, while behind her the Thomians fired and the whole planet felt like it was breaking apart. Kara kept her head down as she ran, avoiding the rocks and holes she knew so well.

Finally, she reached the silver cruiser. A ramp dropped down from its belly, leading inside. She jumped and ran halfway up, before stopping to look behind her.

Jax ran in the other direction, shooting behind him with a weapon built into his suit. The Thomians followed him, guns at the ready.

Kara ran the rest of the way up the ramp and inside, heading straight for the front. She sat down at the flight controls.

"Ship? Are you there?"

"My name is Callie," came a pleasant, female A.I. voice.

"Callie, I need you to start this ship."

"You're not authorized to give me orders. Frankly, I find it quite rude."

"Jax is the captain of this ship, right?"

"Correct."

"He's going to die in about two minutes if you don't turn this damned thing on and help me save him."

Silence for a few seconds.

The flight controls activated, and the whole panel in front of Kara lit up. She stared at the buttons and levers. They looked as alien as the rest of the ship.

"You're going to have to help me, Callie."

“Flight is set to manual. I’m unable to switch it to automatic.”

“Boss. Dead. Remember?”

Callie sighed. “I can get you started, but that’s all.”

The ship catapulted upwards, and Kara slammed into the roof.

"You should probably wear your seat belt," Callie said.

Kara glared as she fell back down to the seat. She put on the seat belt. Tight. She checked on the sphere in her bag.

“You still there, Tell?”

“I’m A-OK.”

The screen in front showed they were hovering just off the ground. Kara could see Jax, zigzagging across the landscape, the Thomians right behind him. Heading towards—

"Oh no."

The Thomians fired at Jax, and he dodged out of the way, before continuing forward—right towards the huge, hundred-foot cliff drop that lead to the Dark Valley.

Kara glanced down at the controls. Central on the panel was a large control stick, marked flight. She pushed it, gently, and the ship glided forward, picking up speed the further she took the lever.

“It’s just like a drone control,” she said. “I can fly this.”

Kara pushed the control harder, and the ship lurched. She strained in her seat belt.

“Okay, it’s a little bigger than a drone. But I can fly this.”

She took it slower and approached the Thomians, right as they fired. Jax dodged again, but this time part of the ray hit him in the thigh. Jax fell and rolled...

Off the edge of the cliff.

The Thomian ship continued out over the valley. Kara desperately shone the searchlight around below her, but couldn't see Jax.

The Thomians stopped and turned around.

"Might I suggest we evade?" Callie said.

Kara’s heart galloped in her chest, filling her ears. Her hand shook on the control stick.

Everything went still, slowed down. You can panic and die, Kara thought, or you can remember your training and focus.

A sense of calm came over her.

She pushed the control forward, heading right at the Thomians. Their laser guns glowed red and Kara slammed the lever to the left, banking away.

The lasers fired, and missed.

Kara flew over the outpost dome and the Thomians followed. The outpost looked so different from this angle. Much smaller, against the barren planet.

She hovered. The Thomians attacked. They fired, and Kara slipped to the right. The laser rays hit the outpost instead.

The dome blew apart into tiny pieces, scattering away in the atmosphere. Under it, the building itself disappeared in a blinding crimson light. A few seconds later, nothing remained of the outpost except a smoking crater.

Kara dipped and dove—maneuvering the ship behind the Thomians.

"Callie, fire whatever you have!"

Two laser rays beamed out of the ship, hitting the Thomians in their tail before they had a chance to move. Their ship lit up, buzzed ominously... and exploded. Anonymous chunks of metal floated down to the surface.

"Got 'em," Callie said.

Tell’s voice rang out from the sphere. “That was quite the adventure.”

“Who’s that?” Callie said.

“That’s Tell.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Callie,” Tell said. “I hope we can be friends.”

“I don’t associate with models beneath me,” Callie said.

The sphere beeped in low, sad tones.

Kara flew the ship back to the cliff. She lowered it until it was level with the cliff edge, and passed the searchlight over the rocks.

The searchlight threw back the shadows, illuminating Jax—holding on to the edge with his fingertips.

"Dropping retrieval ladder," Callie said.

A rope ladder landed next to Jax. He grabbed it, heaved himself up.

Jax climbed into the ship, where he flopped down on his back, breathing hard. Kara crouched down next to him.

“Welcome back, boss,” Callie said. “We saved you. It was mostly me, though.”

Jax gasped in air. He looked up at Kara. “Nice piloting.”

Kara checked Jax's leg. His suit had self-repaired over the gash, but underneath it his leg was in bad shape.

"Do you have a med bay?"

Jax pulled himself up and approached the flight controls. "Let's make dust, first. Callie? Take us home."

They both sat down, fastened their seat belts. The ship flew straight up and soon they were out of orbit and in the quiet, still vacuum of space.

"Plotting a course for Persephone," Callie said. "Approximate travel time, two weeks."

In front of the ship, a ball of blue light appeared. The ball expanded, crackling with energy, twisting and turning until it became a streaking, luminous tunnel.

Callie accelerated and sped towards it. When the ship hit the edge, the tunnel grabbed it and threw it inside.

They were in the belly of the beast, a kaleidoscope of streaking blues and purples. Kara stared at it, in awe.

Jax smiled.

"I forgot what it's like, the first time."

"It's beautiful."

She looked over at him. His face was drained of color.

"Let's get you to the med bay."

***

Kara stood in front of the mirror in her cabin. She bowed, then stood straight, smiling to some imaginary leader on Persephone.

"I'm pleased to meet you," she said.

Two weeks had passed since they'd left Celeste, and she was getting used to her new bunk, her new cabin. She was even getting used to the feeling of having another person around, though she spent a lot of time in her room while Jax recovered from his injury.

Her cabin was small but bright, cream walls and yellow bedding. A window exhibited the endless deep space outside, or gave her the option to show a landscape of Persephone. She always chose the landscape.

“Hello Kara,” Tell said from his sphere. “I believe the ship has stopped.”

Kara stood, both nervous and excited—they must have arrived. Her step quickened as she walked out into the hall.

She found Jax at the flight controls, staring up at the screen, his face blank.

"Jax?"

He didn't answer.

She crouched down next to him.

"Jax? Are you alright?"

He only stared at the screen, his eyes wide.

Kara stood and followed his gaze.

In front of them was a fireball of a planet, blackened rock with rivers of molten lava crisscrossing its surface. Flames shot out of every part of it, and chunks of fiery rock floated around its atmosphere.

"Where are we?"

"I don't..." Jax's voice trailed off.

"Callie?" Kara said. "What is this planet?"

"This is Persephone."

"That can't be right.”

"It is right. My calculations are always accurate and I'm much smarter than you."

Kara stared at it. "My goddess."

"We're too late," Jax said.

All either of them could do was stare at the hell planet burning in the darkness.

A few seconds later, a voice rang out over the ship's comms.

"You are in a restricted area. We have disabled your weapons and flight systems. Prepare to be boarded."

End of Chapter 1