For scientific discovery, give me Scott; for speed and efficiency of travel, give me Amundsen; but when disaster strikes and all hope is gone, get down on your knees and pray for Shackleton.

- Sir Raymond Priestly

Warning: life support systems compromised. Rerouting emergency power from backup generators… unable to reroute emergency power from backup generators.

Cryo failure imminent in Bay Three. Emergency awakening process initiated... insufficient power to initiate emergency awakening process. Warning: loss of life detected in pods thirteen through –

She remained kneeling, staring at her hands in her lap. She made no effort to rise, to react to the alarm, even though she knew people were dying around her.

How did it all come to this?

Numb; that was all she felt. Raising her gaze, she took in the destruction all around her, at the wreckage that was the Nexus. She took in the bodies that laid strewn about, the remains of those who had dreams and aspirations, who had hope and belief, who decided to take the chance and put their trust in her, to bring about a new future for them all in the Andromeda Galaxy.

They lay where they'd fallen, the light and hope gone from their sightless eyes, mouths open in screams or in silent last prayers; people who followed her into the unknown. She'd confided in some of them, shaken the hands of others, listening to what they had to say, planting seeds of hope into them.

Hope?

Now, they were nothing but stiff corpses, pale imitations of the people they once were. Lights flickered within the dimly-lit cryo chamber; she caught sight of blood streaked across the surfaces of several cryo pods, their warning lights pulsing, biomonitors showing flatlines.

Ice in her core, a chill that slowly seeped throughout her body, into the Initiative jumpsuit that she'd worn so proudly on the day the voyage began, now grubby and torn in several places. Her hands were caked with dirt and dried blood, which flaked and cascaded gently onto the floor as she examined them.

Hers, or someone else's, she didn't know. It was of no consequence now, anyway.

She had failed. Worse, she was responsible for the murder – yes, murder – of everyone involved in the Andromeda Initiative. They'd trusted her, and she'd failed to deliver. Failed to protect them, much less secure a future for them.

The icy feeling in her chest intensified. She'd fucked up, big time.

Six hundred years away from everything they'd ever known, the Initiative was dying in the black abyss of space, a mere speck in the impossible vastness of the universe, a footnote in the annals of history, forgotten. The Milky Way was no more, consumed by flame – the Initiative was all that was left of the Milky Way, each one of them representing the last of their species.

No one will remember them, because there was no one left. And she was responsible for that.

The handgun felt heavy in her hand; she briefly wondered where she'd acquired the weapon from. The counter on the side told her there was but one spare shot left in the gun, its blue light playing across her face.

An eye for an eye.

It was logical that she should bear the responsibility for everything that happened here. After all, it was her own hubris that led to this.

Warning: total failure of life support systems imminent. Extensive loss of life detected. Direct intervention required. Warning: total failure of –

The muzzle of the gun was surprisingly warm against the underside of her chin. Jien Garson closed her eyes, a tear sliding down her cheek.

'I'm sorry.'