I'm floating in micro-gravity, as the ship swings past a foreign star on an orbit taking us to a planet untouched by mankind. Somewhere out there in the sea of darkness and diamonds is the rest of humanity. Still fighting and f----ing as if nothing has changed. We have not left the solar system because of racial maturity opens new doors. Rather, the cradle burns around us, rotting away from the effects of an alien machine.
Xenographers like my crew set out through the network of hyperfoil Gates to find evacuation points. But, they are few and far between. Even if we found a hundred new Earths tomorrow, it would be of little avail. no one can build enough ships to evacuate eight billion people. Only a fraction humanity will survive, ferried away in seed pods scattered by ion engines.
And thus a war rages. Between the governments and corporations, churches and Darwinian survivalists. Traditionalists and Iconoclasts. Life will continue, but to whose dictates?