In my arms.

Thats how she perished. Ripped away from these hands of mine. Hands that have conquered the stars, forged empires that reach further than many can fathom. Wealth of immense magnitude and suffocating power can make one feel invincible, not even the cold reminder of mortality being able to topple. Nevertheless, here I am, on an Eden ship built for the kings all beings, with no more than 100 of my kind, hanging onto the very last remnants of life that we have. We don’t have a name for it. That’s how fast it spread. Consuming. Devouring. In a blink of any eye, this nameless plague annihilated the bulk of my kind. A supernova, snuffed out like the flame used by primitive beings. Somehow, I have been spared from the horror of this pestilence. Our researchers were quickly sent out into deep space, in hopes of buying enough time to develop a vaccine, or, if the stars willing, a cure. We never knew that this plague would follow us beyond our home planet, turning our Eden ships into incubators, infecting most, if not all on board. With all hope seemed to be lost, my ship received a message from the final Splice ship we had in contact. A cure. A compound of old. Dihydrogen monoxide. Dead and useless to our race. final destination on where to find ample reserves of it. The planet of Earth. A peculiar blue dot in this godforsaken solar system. The message also included coordinates for a large reservoir of this compound. Humana, as we call them, have been of little interest to us, as are all of Earths resources. The irony of this moment is completely lost to me, as the woman I have loved for longer than any human has ever lived, is cold and lifeless as she stares back at me.
I set her down, on an Organadeck, and her body is engulfed by white energy, almost instantly vaporizing her remains. The agony in my chest almost robs me of the burning desire to save the rest of my people. One last look is all I allow myself, then I get into the insertion pod.

3 2 1

“Ben, finish your carrots. I have awful sight and I don’t need you getting it too when you’re older. I read in one of them healthy living magazines that they make they help your eyes. Might to just be a bunch of hogwash though. Dammit I’m ramblin’ again. Do as I say or no deeessert for you”.
“Grandma Carol, its duh-ssert. Not dee-ssert. And carrots suck. I'm not ancient like you, so my eyes don't need any help" 
Ben hates visiting his Grandma, who lives in quite possibly the most mundane, I'm-going-nowhere-in-life, type of city in Kansas. But when mom is on his one of her "business trips", which is often, Kansas is home. 
"Now Ben, have I ever told you about how your grandpa used to..."
The house shudders. The ground quivers strangely. A small, simple chandelier sways side the side, casting light unevenly across the room. 

"What in God Almigty’s name was that?!" Carol shrieks. Ben rolls his eyes. What 13 hasn't felt an earthquake before? Suddenly a hissing sound emanates from outside, almost like the sound a U-haul makes as it comes to a complete stop. 
"Now Ben you stay right here, I'm gonna go grab your granddaddy’s gun". She scrambles out of her chair and reaches for a two-barrel shotgun on a mantle above the small fireplace. A deep breath, a quick glance back to Ben, and she opens the door.
I exit the pod and immediately am surrounded by a wide open field, with nothing but exceptionally dry soil and a few sparse weeds. The coordinates were wrong. I was supposed to land near the shore of a great lake that has provided the Humana with hydrogen dioxide for many millennia. My eyes adjust instantly to the low light, and I spot a small structure in front of me. A door opens, and an older woman steps out. She is carrying what looks to be a crude weapon, an uncivilized relic in my eyes. I immediately put my arms up, showing I am no harm.
“Do not be alarmed, I mean no harm. I know my appearance may seem unnerving. I am simply here for what you Humana call water. Do you have any with you? Please, it is matter of life and death for me and my people”. The woman has a look of horror on her face. The weapon is leveled directly at me. I can see her finger is over the trigger, a disconcerting amount of tension in her index finger. The door suddenly opens, and a small head pops out. 
“Grandma, who’s out there?” Carol jumps from the sudden voice from behind her, and an eruption of flame erupts from the barrel of her weapon. The boy screams and runs inside. 
I look down at my chest, where only a thin layer of insulating material covers my skin. A bloom of crimson blossoms where the material used to be. I am without any flexstims or even simple life support systems on my pod. My vision begins to blur, and I see the woman drop the weapon, and scurry inside. Such funny little creatures. 
I have failed. My mind drifts away to a warmer place. A place of endless greens and blues. Of soft yellows and lazy oranges. Of a woman of pure beauty. Then everything is replaced by a dark tendrils of death and despair. Of a people who achieved what few can reach, yet abruptly shown how minute any level of power can be in relation to our universe.