“The planet is taken. Do not come home.”

Eight grim words that said so much. And, beyond that, nothing. No elaboration, no instructions, not even a set of star charts.

They must not have had time.

​He was supposed to be firm and decisive, to make a plan and ensure that it was carried out. But the immensity of the disaster that had swallowed their lives was smothering his mind, reducing all thought of action to a vague and impossible dream.

​Respectfully ignoring his shipmate’s distress, Zorei turned to the front of the ship, visibly calling on a store of resolve that Kadian couldn’t hope to equal. “Home,” he said, as firmly as he could, reaching for the controls. “We’re finding a new home.”

​“We’re finding a new home.”

A ludicrous idea, too strange and impossible to be stated so simply. Somehow, in the vastness amidst alien stars, they were going to have to... “Just like that?”

“Yes.”

A small, wry smile pulled at her lips, disturbing the dusty coating that had settled on them. “This ship probably sent messages through space, but I can’t even use it to contact a person in this building, or a city that’s sitting just outside that wall.”

​“The one story I couldn’t convincingly report. Sorry, buddy.” Her eyes strained upward into the dark. “But if I can’t get people to believe your story, at least I can make sure I don’t have to tell them its ending. Not for a good long while.”

​The spaceship was starting to fade into the dusk, and the reporter cast it a regretful glance as she neared the exit. “Sorry, ship. Looks like we’re both muzzled today. I’ll come back when I know how to talk to you.”

​“Do not come home.” The message lingered on the small comm screen, crushing in its cold, unbending simplicity. “The planet is taken. Do not come home.”