The voice swam like a snake through the empty metal hallways. Only moments before, Corrina was still asleep and the system was screaming. The launch had been successful but some of the children had died. Everyone who had been able to get to their lock in areas were safe. The few that were not fast enough would be mourned for as long as they would be remembered. 

The song filled the tubes around the walkways that led from room to room, sector to sector, and wing to wing on the ARC. The reigning government’s last shot to keep the human race, or what was left of it, in existence in this galaxy. Their ability to launch anything worthwhile into space had come about directly after a mysterious rock had hit the planet. It was large enough to take out a small town, but the meteorite itself was not the reason that everyone had to scramble to get off the planet. It was what the meteor had brought with it to Earth.

The rivets lining the seams of the metal panels that made up the hallways on the largest spaceship ever crafted by humans were practically still hot from being driven in. The monstrosity wasn’t pretty, but it was safe enough. The huddled humans on board were humanity’s last hope. As the ship locked onto its coordinates and drifted past the Moon, the song was still the only thing anyone could hear. 

The voice belonged to Domino Bellagio but she was not on the ARC. Back on Earth with the rest of the majority millions, the odds were good that she was sitting by the ocean with her cats. The melody was familiar to most of the ears of humans strapped in on the ARC. They were the last piece of humanity to be rocketed off the home planet, and their survival was suspect to say the least. 

Rock Michigan opened his eyes to the blinding images of visual alarms on his Captain’s port. Before he could grasp the strap holding his chest down from the launch, he was already receiving reports of the missing heartbeats on his ship. They had known there would be casualties, they just didn’t know how many. The entire ship was still  silently soaking in every line of the song from the depths of the soul of Domino, a performer who had been touted as providing what could only be defined as “connection” when she stared into any of the eyes in her audiences. 

Stumbling due to an injury to his knee during boarding, Captain Michigan rushed to the port lookout near his command desk. The darkness was heavier than he’d expected. Peering out, he saw the planet. Earth was glowing in what would have been one last sunrise somewhere.

“Corrina,” he said under his breath, his unshaven face looking back at him in the reflection of the port window. 

“Active,” came the AI’s response through the chip in his ear.

“How many?” he asked.

Before the AI Command Program had a chance to respond, the Earth exploded into flames.

“1113 souls on board,” Corrina stated, “387 lost.”