Tisho sat down heavily by the lake and turned his sunburnt face upwards. The Falling had already commenced. He could tell by the number of stars beginning to flicker softly around the edges of the solar system.

They had made it just in time.

With a grim smile, his eyes locked on the brightest light in the sky. Elvira, the final starship to carry evacuees from their dying planet. His breathing slowly returned to normal. As he focused on the bright light dominating his vision, he almost missed several outermost stars gutter and fade.

It wouldn’t be long now.

Starships had first begun leaving five years ago, shortly after the government had made the chilling announcement that their solar system was on the verge of collapse. The stars were going to fall, and the planet would die. At that time, adrenaline-fueled engineers forced unimaginable technological breakthroughs. Manufacturing giants used these new designs and this advancing technology to hastily forge the first fleets of starships. The human race sprinted to the stars for survival.

But not everyone could be saved.

Tisho remembered the scenes of panic and desperation as resources depleted and the manufacture of starships began to slow. His stomach remembered the writhing anxiety as access to starship tickets dried up. He cried himself to sleep many nights, silently stifling his sobs as the countdown to the Fall continued to tick inevitably closer. His wife never knew his despair in those last miserable months.

They were condemned. They would die. Until a final glimmer of hope.

Six weeks before The Falling, Tisho’s tiny wife had given birth to a perfect (accidental) miracle. A baby girl. Tisho was driven half-mad with despair as he faced the guilt of bringing a baby into the world to face an inevitable death without the promise of a life to live. Thirteen days later, a final starship was announced. A final lottery was called, and Tisho knew that there was no price too high to pay for the survival of his family.

He did what he had to do.

He didn’t regret his actions in the past month. He knew that what he had done was necessary. His wife and child were worth the sacrifice. They were worth the sin. Not that it mattered; he didn’t have long left to live with his conscience now. He sat on the lakeside beach and watched his perfect family speed away from him on the last spaceship. He had made sure they were onboard. He hadn’t been so lucky.

His stomach twisted sharply as he imagined his perfect, tiny wife discovering that he wasn’t on board with her. She had barely kissed him goodbye as the throng had pushed her onto the first available tender-ship, so certain had she been that he would board the next. But he had no ticket and so he could not. He would not be meeting her under the star-lit plexi dome as they promised. He prayed she would understand his lie. He prayed that in time she would find someone to look after her. He hoped she would remember him well. He had done his best. His meagre, scrappy best to save the wife and child that he loved beyond all reason.

Tisho didn’t cry, but continued to sit silently. His lips softly mouthed into the growing darkness the mantra that had kept him going these past weeks. The name that signalled their salvation. Elvira.

Saint Elvira had been the patron saint of Tisho’s family since they first arrived on the forsaken continent eight generations ago. At that time, they had been little more than convicts and wastrels.

Elvira was also the name of Tisho’s helpless six-week old baby. He had named her with desperation, drawing attention to his dire situation in the foolish hope that the Saint would remember his family once more.

She had remembered.

Mere days after the baby was named, a final starship was commissioned. Her name was Elvira. Tisho knew it was the Saint’s sign that he hadn’t been forsaken, and charged into action. Now his wastrel bloodline would help populate the new world. The Saint had looked after and protected the family. Tisho was grateful.

Elvira would save them all.

Tisho’s bulky frame silhouetted against the night sky while she flamed further into the unknown. He didn’t cry, but nor did he smile. He just sat and watched. One by one, the stars fell and the night turned dark.