He collapses, victorious, looks down…
… at blood pooling: some alien, some human, too little his.
He grasps… a pine tree? Ah, the arboretum. Grips its rough bark. Smells something other than blood.
Remembers:
Kind springtime captain
Decades aged in ragged gasps
Vacuum-locked and–
Not possible. Captain remembers every birthday, named each seed, would guide them on the new planet, will–
But he won’t.
Unfathomable.
“Computer, land on nearest sun.” Take me away. Fuck the passengers.
The tree cracks. He falls, face-down, tears swirling blood. Then rolls, looks up…
…at an infinitude of stars, layer upon layer of glory.
–alone.