Life aboard the escape pod was trying for Hera. The ancient vessel twisted and turned through the stars like a corkscrew, following an evasive pattern around enemy patrols and cosmic debris. It was equipped with all the basics of its time; a rusty stasis pod, expired food capsules, metallic-tasting hydration tablets, and an antiquated hologram entertainment system. It also was haunted – yes, haunted.

There were two disembodied voices aboard the shuttle – one distinctly female, and the other distinctly male. They would snort and snicker together, getting increasingly brazen in their discussions as the escape pod picked up velocity and blasted further and further away from IGC territory. The female voice seemed close, but the male voice seemed a little further off. Hera couldn’t figure out whether these voices were related to the voice that she heard when she first got in the pod, or if they were something else entirely. Whatever they were, she didn’t like them.

Things went on in this way for weeks. In time she began to tolerate the voices and acclimate to her bad food and entertainment options. She was getting used to her new life, whether she wanted to or not.

As her pod broke through the edges of the galaxy and into the empty void of space, a single shooting star flittered along with her. As it ebbed and flowed through the darkness, Hera couldn’t help but feel that there was something familiar about it. It felt comfortable and soothing. It felt like an old friend was watching over her.

Oddly mollified, she removed her uniform and entered the stasis chamber. When she arrived wherever she was going, she would awake and start over. If she never arrived anywhere, then that was ok too. She would be a time capsule that would live on forever – a reminder of humanity and all that it had accomplished before it was snuffed out in its prime. Of course, as fate willed it, her destiny was not to be some flying space museum.

Many months passed her by in suspended animation when the first glints of starlight began to illuminate her craft once more, waking her out of stasis.

The spaceship was quiet when she emerged. The voices had stopped. The ship’s erratic movements had become fluid, and a tiny blue orb in the distance had filled the derelict vessel with hope. They were approaching a planet – a human planet.

The radio sputtered alight playing alien music, sports programming, and talk shows. Her VR implant translated the words into her language.

One program, in particular, caught her attention. It played music that was plucky and familiar, using an instrument that was reminiscent of the kithara, a stringed instrument that her father had taught her to play when she was a little girl.

“And that was ‘Mammas don’t let your babies grow up to become cowboys’, only on Classic Country 22.5” the announcer proclaimed in a thick drawl, “and now for another Willie Nelson song, probably not one that most of you folks have heard before, this is ‘Over the Rainbow’, Willie’s take on a Judie Garland classic.”

The strange music strummed along, as the craft cloaked itself and entered the atmosphere. Hera gawked openly at the giant blue seas and great green expanses before her. Yet, she had no idea where she was. There was no way that this could be an IGC planet, especially after the voyage that she had undertaken, but yet it was inhabited by humanoids of some kind.

“Computer,” Hera said aloud, “identify this planet.”

There was no response.

“That’s right,” Hera lamented, “this ancient ship doesn’t have any onboard intelligence, it’s too old.”

Welcome to the place humanity was born, Commander Carthage.

“Who said that?” Hera shouted.

But there was no response yet again.

“Whatever.” She strapped herself in and prepared to land, weary and ready for her voyage to come to an end. Soon she would be free from her horrible craft, and it’s even more horrible voices. She would have a chance to start anew, far removed from the Serpian threat and the ghosts of her past.

The craft rounded the sunlit side of the planet and began to approach the dark side, giving Hera her first look at the planet’s satellite. It was large and white, pockmarked by asteroids and impact craters. Putting two and two together she came to a revelation.

“Lady Selene, and Lady Gaia. Is that you?” She pondered out loud. This planetary duo matched the Andromedan description of Gaia almost to the T. If her hunch was correct, she had returned home to the mythological land of her ancestors – a place that few Andromedans believed to be real.

The lights of cities and intricate transportation networks twinkled on the ground before her as her craft got closer and closer to the surface. She imagined that, to the inhabitants down below, her alien vessel appeared as little more than a shooting star in the night sky.

As she braced for impact with the dark surface, she felt a kick in her belly. Her son was happy to be at their new home too.