Roberto watched the man – the uniform’s nametag read “Jones” – on the screen. Despite the vast bulk of the generation ship in the shuttle windows, he could not look away from the flickering pixels from what remained of Earth.
“China’s shortwave disappeared just after you launched,” Jones said. “Nothing from the EU, nothing from undersea.” Jones laughed a little, wiped his forehead. “And nothing from the rest of Canaveral, either.” The corners of Jones’ face drooped. “I think I’m it.”
Jones took a deep breath. “Well, good luck.” As Jones reached for the controls, a grey-blue hand grasped his shoulder.