Our ancestors would be disgusted.

Klaxons and flashing lights engulfed Richard, but he was completely oblivious. Had been for a few days now. Long ago he had accepted his fate, likely the fate of his entire species. It was doubtful any of the other two generational ships were out there any longer; Ark Centuria surely was destroyed by SN 4015ve – the supernova was not predicted by any of the scientists. The last contact with Chrysalis indicated that they were experiencing major technical malfunctions with their water recycler before radio contact abruptly ceased, and that was nearly 35 years ago.

So that left Richard and the Mayflower. Richard pushed back from his command console and stared blankly through the scratched, foggy porthole. Blackness everywhere; just one lone star twinkling, fading.

The Mayflower – once home to thousands, now home to Richard, last of the humans.