Three days later . . .

“Rog?” called John.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Come to the bridge. We’ve got visual contact.”

Rog ran. He entered the bridge, walked past John and stood before the main window, his nose pressed against the glass like a child at the airport watching a plane pull into the gate and wondering if his father was on this one. “She’s beautiful isn’t she?”

John didn’t answer.

“You did the scan didn’t you?” asked Rog without taking his eyes off Bravo.

“Yeah. I did.”

Silence.

“You know, I thought when we got to this point, wild horses couldn’t keep me from—and now, I just want to stand here. You did the scan, right?”

“Rog, I—“

“Hey, we both knew before we left. We knew this moment would be waiting, didn’t we?”

John sighed.

“And we knew we were idiots for allowing ourselves to believe, but we did it anyway, right?

John sighed again.

“And we talked and dreamed of miracles, that somehow, someway, they would find a way to turn six days into seven. How could they not? How could Kyra not find a way?”

John walked behind Rog and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Tell me. I need to hear it.”

“Hear what?”

“The scan. What did you find?”

John opened his mouth to speak but nothing he could think to say sounded right.

“Just tell me. Not like I don’t know. I just need to hear it, cause you know, until I hear it, I won’t believe it. Until you say it, I’ll still think it’s not possible, not true.”

John gripped Rog’s shoulder. “There was no sign of life.”

“I don’t believe it!”

“I know.”

“I’m serious. Your scans are wrong. Grab your stuff. We’re going.”

“Rog?”

“What?”

“I’m going to grab my stuff. See you in the pod in a few.”

“John?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“You know, scans have been wrong before.”

Categories: Story, John Discovery, Rog

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