The Dying Drones

by Christian A. Larsen

Les hit “replay” on his tablet and watched the Earth disappear into deep space at a rate of 34,680 miles per hour. Then he played it backwards and watched it reappear just as fast, until he could make out the satellites and lunar shuttles buzzing around the planet like bees circling a hive. It was amateur video—he shot it himself—but far more comforting than any of the movies stored on the Leif Ericsson’s computer. It was his last real view of home, and the clip itself was almost thirty years old. If he was lucky, he might see Earth again before his 80th birthday, if the Ericsson could complete its mission to Eris and make it back to Earth without breaking down.

“Soup’s on!” said Hanna through the com. Les had always had a special place in his heart for her. She had been his first girlfriend on board, and his fifth, eighth, and many more besides. She was still good-looking, what some would call a MILF, but of course, all of them had been sterilized well before mission launch. Sending eighteen-year-olds into space was bad enough, but throw in pregnancies and babies? Might as well blow the whole thing up. Continue reading →