My pod hissed open ninety years too soon. A calm voice from the ship said, "Crewmember Vey, the others have voted. Unanimous. You will be left on the planet below." I sat up, freezing and dizzy. There was no planet on any chart out here. Through the window I saw it anyway: green, cloudy, real. "Why?" I croaked. The ship said, "They asked me not to tell you."

Forget arguing. I had maybe minutes. I told the ship, "Show me the drop pod they're using to dump me." A map lit up: the pod was two decks down, already loading my gear. If I got there first, maybe I could control where I landed. I started running.

I reached the pod bay out of breath. My gear was strapped in, plus extra ration crates nobody mentioned. Taped to the seat was a data chip and three words in marker: "LAND NORTH. HURRY." Someone wanted me to survive. The bay doors began to cycle open behind me.

I jammed the chip into the pod's reader. A map bloomed: the northern coast, marked with a single safe zone in a sea of red danger. Whoever left this knew the planet well. The pod sealed and fired. As the ground rushed up, I steered north with everything I had and held my breath.

The pod splashed down in a shallow northern bay and bobbed there, intact. I waded ashore as the sun came up. Tucked in the extra crate I found tools, seeds, and a last note: "Build. We'll come back for you. I promise. Survive until then." I looked at the empty, gentle coast and decided I would. This was a beginning, not an end.