Rush runs.
Eli barely has time to shout his name before Rush disappears into the event horizon.
The wormhole snaps shut.
Silence.
Eli stands alone in Destiny's gate room.
Rush's scanner still in his hand.
Recording.
He looks at the empty Stargate.
“Rush…”
Nothing.
Just the low hum of the ship.
The image holds on Eli.
Then something changes.
Not black and white.
Older than that.
The colors begin to drain into warm browns and faded golds, like a photograph left too long in sunlight.
The sound of Destiny stretches.
Reverses.
The gate flickers—
opens—
Rush comes backward through it—
runs backward across the room—
systems unwind—
stars streak backward outside the hull.
Faster now.
Days.
Years.
Events flashing past almost too quickly to understand.
Faces.
Gates.
Planets.
Arguments.
Deaths.
Hope.
Destiny moving backward through its own history.
Until—
stillness.
Stars.
Eli Wallace stands on the observation deck.
Young again.
Exactly where we left him.
One foot kicked up against the railing.
Looking out at the immense darkness ahead.
For a few seconds he doesn't move.
The faded colors slowly return.
The past becomes present.
Eli lowers his foot.
Steps away from the railing.
Looks once more at the stars.
Then turns.
And walks back into Destiny.
The corridors are empty.
That is the first thing we notice.
Not abandoned.
Sleeping.
Lights dimmed to minimum levels.
Doors closed.
No footsteps except Eli's.
No arguments.
No Rush.
No Young.
No Chloe.
No Brody.
No one.
Every other surviving member of Destiny's crew is already in hibernation.
Eli reaches the final chamber.
His chamber.
Still open.
Still broken.
He looks at it.
“Okay.”
Beat.
“Three years.”
He looks toward the rows of sleeping pods.
“Plenty of time.”
He doesn't sound convinced.
The first repair doesn't work.
Neither does the second.
Eli replaces a power relay.
Runs the diagnostic.
Red.
He resets the system.
Red.
Again.
Red.
He stares at it.
“You're kidding.”
Destiny does not answer.
Time passes.
Eli works.
Sleeps.
Eats.
Works again.
The same corridors.
The same empty chairs.
The same sleeping faces behind glass.
At first he talks because it helps him think.
Later he talks because hearing any voice helps.
He stops beside Rush's chamber.
“You know what would be useful right now?”
Rush sleeps.
“One of those incredibly irritating explanations where you already knew exactly what was wrong.”
Nothing.
Eli nods.
“Yeah.”
Beat.
“I miss them too.”
He tries cannibalizing another system.
Wrong interface.
He fabricates an adapter.
It burns out.
He searches Destiny's database.
Millions of entries.
None of them quite what he needs.
Another diagnostic.
Red.
Eli sits on the floor beside the chamber.
For a long time.
Then:
“Come on.”
Not angry anymore.
Almost pleading.
“Just tell me what you're missing.”
The chamber says nothing.
More time.
Eli has lost weight.
The beard has started.
He eats alone at a table meant for twenty people.
Across from him—
an empty chair.
“So.”
He takes another bite.
“Good news.”
Nothing.
“I'm definitely getting better at cooking.”
He considers the food.
“That's not true.”
Silence.
“But there's nobody awake to contradict me.”
He smiles.
It doesn't last.
Later.
Eli walks the observation deck again.
Same stars.
Different Eli.
He looks out into the void.
“Three years.”
He laughs quietly.
“That sounded like a lot more time when he said it.”
Destiny continues toward the darkness between galaxies.
Then—
the ship drops out of FTL.
Eli nearly falls.
He grabs the railing.
“What?”
He runs.
The gate room wakes around him.
Navigation.
Sensors.
A planet.
Eli checks the countdown.
They aren't supposed to be stopping here.
He checks again.
“No.”
The planet is barely interesting.
Thin atmosphere.
Dead surface.
No settlements.
No life.
Eli looks at Destiny's course.
Then at the planet.
“Why did you stop?”
Nothing.
A Stargate address appears.
Eli stares at it.
“You have somewhere you want me to go?”
The ship remains silent.
Eli looks toward the corridor.
Toward the sleeping crew.
Then back at the address.
“Fine.”
He dials.
The Kino goes first.
Darkness.
Stone.
Ancient architecture.
Eli moves the Kino deeper.
A corridor.
Storage rooms.
Equipment.
Nothing extraordinary.
Then he realizes what he's looking at.
Not a laboratory.
Not another Ancient temple.
Not some enormous cosmic secret.
A maintenance facility.
A workshop.
A place where somebody once repaired things.
Eli almost laughs.
“Seriously?”
The Kino moves past racks of components.
Ancient power assemblies.
Control interfaces.
Replacement parts.
Then—
something familiar.
Eli freezes the image.
Moves closer.
Checks the specifications.
Again.
He looks toward the broken hibernation chamber on the schematic beside him.
Back to the Kino.
Same component.
Eli stares.
“No.”
He checks again.
It is.
Exactly what he needs.
Eli looks slowly around Destiny's gate room.
“How did we miss this?”
Nothing.
He looks back at the planet.
“How did you miss this?”
Beat.
Then the obvious question occurs to him.
His expression changes.
“You didn't.”
Silence.
Eli looks at the address.
Then toward the ceiling.
Toward Destiny itself.
“Did you?”
No answer.
Eli returns through the gate carrying the component like it is made of glass.
Hours later—
he installs it.
Closes the panel.
Runs the diagnostic.
Red.
Eli's heart sinks.
Then—
amber.
He leans closer.
Amber.
Green.
Eli doesn't breathe.
He runs it again.
Green.
Again.
Green.
He laughs.
Once.
Then again.
And suddenly he is crying.
He wipes his face angrily.
“No.”
He laughs through it.
“No, we're not doing that.”
He looks at the rows of sleeping people.
“I fixed it.”
Nobody answers.
He looks toward Rush's chamber.
“I fixed it.”
Beat.
“You owe me an apology.”
Rush sleeps.
Eli smiles.
“I'll collect later.”
He prepares the chamber.
Checks every system.
Then checks them again.
Finally there is nothing left to do.
Eli walks slowly through the hibernation bay.
Past Young.
Camille.
Chloe.
Brody.
Volker.
Rush.
All waiting for a morning none of them can know is coming.
Eli stops.
Looks at all of them.
For months he has been talking to sleeping people.
Now he suddenly doesn't know what to say.
Finally:
“Well.”
Beat.
“See you in a year.”
He starts toward his chamber.
Stops.
Looks around at Destiny.
“Or a thousand.”
Another beat.
“Or two.”
He smiles.
“Whatever.”
Eli climbs inside.
The chamber closes.
His face disappears behind the frost.
Silence.
Destiny travels.
Across the darkness between galaxies.
One year becomes more.
Or perhaps less.
There is no one awake to count.
Stars drift.
Systems fail.
Others compensate.
Lights go dark in unused corridors.
The hibernation bay remains still.
Until—
one chamber illuminates.
Then another.
Power fluctuates.
Some pods remain dark.
Others begin waking.
Eli's eyes open.
He gasps.
The chamber releases him.
He falls forward onto the floor.
Around him—
alarms.
A few other chambers are opening.
Not all of them.
Rush.
Brody.
Perhaps Young.
A reduced crew waking into a ship that is not behaving as expected.
Eli looks toward the pods that remain sealed.
Then toward the others waking around him.
Rush struggles upright.
“How long?”
Eli looks at the system clock.
His expression changes.
“Uh…”
Rush:
“Eli.”
Eli looks at him.
Then at the sleeping crew.
Then toward the distant stars visible beyond Destiny.
“We made it.”
Rush follows his eyes.
Outside—
a galaxy.
New stars.
A new shore.
Eli smiles despite everything.
“We actually made it.”
And for one brief moment—
that is enough.
