We made a desperate, utterly hopeless last stand at the doors to the control room. The teams defending the fusion generators had gone offline minutes ago, but they had succeeded in locking down and passing generator control to us. Brave and honourable sacrifices in the name of hope.

Like some battalion of riflemen in an era long gone, our front rank knelt; we presented a double line of weapon barrels. In the red emergency lighting, bayonets – laughable weapons from another time – gleamed dully.

Their charge fell against us like the tsunamis that had destroyed London. Our little wedge of men fired into the oncoming tide, pouring fire into the darkness, holding them back for a few more precious seconds.

As we died, snuffed out like candle flames in the dark, the final thread of hope – the single thread of photonic energy that was the Photonic Laser Thruster (Ground Component) – winked out too.

And the Ark of Noah, now merely drifting in the silent night sky, mourned the fall of the Earth.