This was the third time he had read this graphic novel, Lin noted. It was in his stash of his father’s personal effects the day the Earth exploded. It was the fourth in a series of five, and by all accounts, the fifth book was going to shatter the fans’ world. A pity, then, that it would never get published. Somewhere, floating amongst all the refuse from the death of the Earth, were the remains of the unfinished first draft. Nobody would ever find them.

The teletype machine had been furiously hammering out a message for the past twenty seconds. It stopped, and he absent-mindedly grabbed the paper.

COLLISION INCIDENT. OUTLOOK UNSURE. TUMBLING. SOL FIX ONLY POSSIBLE FOR ONE-THIRD OF EACH ROTATION. FURTHER ACTION UNKNOWN.

Slowly he sat down his mug of caffeinated kelp-water as he read, reread the message. How many months had they been adrift among the stars, waiting for this bulletin to hit its mark?

Lin snapped out of his funk and double-timed it to the head office, message firmly in his grip.