Everitt stumbled forward and fell roughly against the metal wall opposite his vertical hibernation chamber. The gloppy residue that had protected him and fed oxygen and nutrients to his metabolically slowed body dripped into clumps on the frigid deck.

Alarms were blaring through the empty ship, yellow lights spinning to alert his crew of imminent danger. His crew of one.

He gasped for breath and ended up coughing up even more of the residue, eventually vomiting onto the floor. On his knees he could see his sickness mixing with blood. Confused, he examined his body and found a gash in his left arm from where he had fallen.

A bright reddish-yellow glare poured into the ship from his periphery, so bright that he had to lift a hand to block it from blinding him. What light was this?

He checked the chrono on the wall. It was only 2344. He had been awakened by the ship almost a decade early.

Fighting forward to the controls, he slumped into a chair and gazed despondently into the light of the approaching star.