The day the Sun dies...

Control Tower: “Horizon, this is Mission Control. Final systems check complete. Countdown begins in

“10…”

The cabin thrummed beneath our boots. My heart matched the rhythm of the engines, deep and steady, like a giant taking long breaths.

“9…”

Claire tightened the straps on her harness, eyes locked on the viewport.

“7…”

The stars beyond seemed frozen, as if waiting for our first move. Malik muttered, “When we come back, someone’s buying me the biggest burger in the solar system.”

“4… 3…”

My fingers curled tighter on the armrests.

“1… Ignition.”

The Horizon roared into the void. Gravity pressed us into our seats; the stars smeared into silver lines. Space bent around us, not like magic, but like a photograph being stretched until edges warped.

At 99.999999% of light speed, time outside sped up for everyone else , but for us, it felt like any other day.

The universe folded closer. Light from distant galaxies bent through gravitational lensing, like a cosmic magnifying glass showing us secrets meant for no human eye.

Days blurred. We floated past a supernova remnant a vast violet cloud, still glowing from the death of a star centuries ago. Its gases shimmered like powdered gemstones scattered in black velvet. Later, we skimmed near a binary star system where two suns orbited each other in a slow, fiery dance.

First Stop: Kepler-186f

It looked like paradise from orbit streaks of green, wide oceans, and white polar caps. We descended into a valley of towering crimson trees, their leaves glinting like rubies under a pale sun. The air smelled faintly sweet through our helmets.

Daniel’s voice crackled: “Oxygen’s good. I’m taking the helmet off.”

“Daniel, don’t—” I said, but he had already unsealed it.

At first, nothing happened. Then he gasped, clutching his chest. His knees buckled. Malik sprinted forward, but Daniel’s face was already drained of color. The gas here was mixed with something invisible a compound our lungs couldn’t handle. His last breath left his lips in a faint, white cloud.

We buried him under the red leaves. No speeches. Just silence.

We drifted past a rogue planet an ice covered giant wandering the galaxy without a star. Out here, there was no “day” or “night.” Only eternal dusk.

Second Stop: TRAPPIST-1e

The sky was dark copper, lit by the glow of a red dwarf star. We landed on a jagged shore where a black, mirror-like ocean stretched to the horizon.

Claire knelt, scooping some water into her palm. “It’s warm.”

The warmth turned to pain in a heartbeat. She screamed, dropping it. Her skin blistered instantly.

Back aboard the Horizon, scans revealed the truth. Microscopic alien life with razor-edged shells, shredding human skin cells like paper. This ocean was alive, but its life was poison to us.

We sailed through a meteor swarm, filling the cockpit with flashes like lightning trapped in glass. For a heartbeat, it was beautiful. Then one rock the size of a fist slammed into the hull, shaking us like a toy.

Malik muttered, “Space doesn’t care if you’re admiring the view.”

Third Stop: Proxima Centauri b

The sky glowed burnt orange. Winds screamed across salt flats that stretched forever. Our radiation meters spiked instantly.

Proxima ; its star flared without warning. A white-hot flash lit the landscape, flooding the surface with invisible death. Even inside our suits, a prickling heat crawled over my skin. We left before the next flare hit.

No life here at least, not on the surface.

A pulsar came into view, a dead star spinning so fast its beams of light swept across space like a cosmic lighthouse. Every second, the cockpit bathed in its flash, as if we were in the heartbeat of the universe itself.

The Most Promising: Kepler-452b

From orbit, it stole our breath. Blue seas curled around green continents. Clouds drifted lazily over mountain ranges capped in snow.

When we stepped outside, the air was warm, the breeze gentle. The water sparkled. We could breathe without helmets. For a moment, it felt like home.

But gravity pressed us heavier to the ground, days lasted 26 hours, and microscopic spores from the plants triggered fevers in half the crew. Still it was the closest we had come to a second Earth. We marked its coordinates with a trembling sense of hope.

The Journey Home ; perhaps a different home

Fuel reserves blinked red. We turned for Earth. In our time less than two day had gone. But Einstein’s shadow followed us: time dilation.

When Earth filled the viewport, I felt my stomach twist. The continents looked familiar, but the cities did not. Towers pierced the clouds. Ships swarmed the sky.

We landed, stepping into a world that didn’t remember us. Centuries had passed. The people we knew were dust. The language was strange, the faces unfamiliar. They looked at us as relics from a forgotten century.

We told them our story of crimson forests, black oceans, cracked plains, and the promise of Kepler-452b.

They listened, eyes wide, as if hearing a legend.

One day, they’ll go back. Faster, stronger, better prepared. Until then, our journey remains a warning and a promise:

The universe is vast, beautiful, and unforgiving… and somewhere out there, another Earth is waiting.................

Thank you.

Sakuni Bandara

From year 2074