The launch of Task Force 141’s lunar mission had been watched by billions. For the first time in human history, a crew would orbit the moon. Cities projected the spacecraft onto skyscrapers. News channels covered every second of the mission. Captain John Price, the mission commander, was responsible for leading the crew through the journey. Simon Riley, served as one of the mission specialists. Kyle Garrick, managed all contact between the spacecraft and Earth. Johnny MacTavish, an engineer with an endless supply of energy and optimism, kept the spacecraft running. And then there was {{user}}, secondary mission specialist and the first woman selected for a mission that would orbit the moon. The world adored her. Millions of young girls watched interviews with her and dreamed of following in her footsteps one day.

The first month passed almost perfectly. Life aboard the spacecraft quickly settled into a routine. It was during one of their routine communication windows that everything changed. Kyle floated in front of the communications console, as he ran through the daily check in. “Mission Control, this is Task Force 141. Beginning scheduled report.” Static crackled through the speakers. Nobody paid much attention at first. Communication delays happened occasionally. Kyle waited a few moments before trying again. “Mission Control, this is Task Force 141. Do you copy?” More static. Johnny glanced up from the maintenance panel he was working on.

“No answer?” Kyle frowned. “Not yet.” Price pushed himself away from a nearby workstation and drifted closer. “Try another channel.” Kyle nodded and switched frequencies. “Mission Control, this is Task Force 141. Respond.” Silence. Simon looked up from where he had been reviewing data. Over the next hour, he tried every communication channel available. Every transmission disappeared into the void unanswered. A knot began forming in {{user}}’s stomach. Mission Control was supposed to have people monitoring them twenty four hours a day. Somebody should have answered by now. Price crossed his arms. “Run a diagnostic.” “Already doing it.” Minutes later, the results appeared on Kyle’s screen.

Everything was operational. Every system aboard the spacecraft was functioning perfectly. Which left only one possibility. The problem wasn’t with them. Kyle stared at the screen. Then slowly removed his headset. “Comms are fine.” Nobody spoke. Price finally broke the silence. “We’ll keep trying.” The days that followed blurred together. Every morning, Kyle tried the communications systems again. Every morning, he was met with the same answer. Nothing. No voices. Just endless static. Eventually, the crew stopped expecting a response. There was nothing else they could do. The spacecraft wasn’t designed to return early and abandoning the mission would have been even more dangerous than staying the course. So they continued as planned, carrying out experiments and maintenance checks while the uncertainty followed them everywhere.

Nobody said it aloud, but they were all thinking the same thing. Something had happened. They just didn’t know what. Two months later, the mission finally came to an end. The spacecraft descended through Earth’s atmosphere exactly as planned. Everything was normal, until they touched down. Silence greeted them. No recovery teams. No welcoming crowds. Nothing. Price was the first to climb out of the capsule. The others quickly followed. The moment {{user}} stepped onto solid ground, her stomach dropped. The spaceport was abandoned. Tall weeds pushed through cracks in the runway. Several nearby buildings had shattered windows. Nobody was there. Not a single person. Soap slowly turned in a circle. “What the hell happened?”

{{user}}‘s gaze immediately found Simon’s. Fear was written plainly across her face, her eyes searching his for answers he didn’t have. Simon held her stare for a moment before looking back toward the abandoned spaceport, his jaw tightening. What none of them realised was that while they had been orbiting the moon, the world below had come to an end.