Mark approached the panoramic display window, gazing at the roiling poisonous clouds below. A huge hurricane swirled menacingly, its big red eye reminiscent of Jupiter's mega-storm. But this was not the gas giant; this was Earth, humanity's cradle, now a storm-ravaged shadow of its former self.

From his vantage point 400 miles above, Mark could see thousands of miles in every direction, yet the raging storms obscured the devastated landscape below. Earth, once a vibrant blue gem, had been utterly destroyed by its own children. Humans, in their hubris and neglect, had rendered their only home uninhabitable, turning themselves into refugees in the sky.

In the last desperate decades of the fight against climate change, a few foresighted individuals and nations, wealthy and powerful, had seen the inevitable. Earth was lost. Their only option was to flee to space. But like all refugees throughout history, those in the space habitats faced dire struggles. The hasty exodus had left behind many essential resources, and now, survival was a daily battle.

Amidst these dire circumstances, a daring, albeit dangerous, operation had become a part of daily life for the inhabitants of the space habitat. Teams of brave individuals undertook daily flights down to the surface of Earth, navigating through tumultuous atmospheric conditions to scavenge for food and essential equipment from the abandoned cities.

These missions were fraught with peril. The once-familiar landscapes of Earth were now alien and treacherous, transformed by relentless storms and shifting terrains. The cities, once bustling hubs of humanity, stood desolate and eerie, their skyscrapers and structures ravaged by time and neglect.

Each morning, as the sun pierced through the dense cloud cover, teams in reinforced shuttles descended through the churning atmosphere. The pilots, skilled and fearless, maneuvered through violent winds and electrical storms, their eyes fixed on the ghostly outlines of the cities below.

Upon landing, the scavengers, clad in protective suits, ventured into the ruins. They moved swiftly, aware that every moment on the surface increased the risk of exposure to the hostile environment. Their targets were supermarkets, warehouses, and abandoned homes – any place that might still hold non-perishable food, medical supplies, or equipment that could be repurposed for life in orbit.

The risks were immense. Unpredictable weather patterns, unstable buildings, and the ever-present threat of toxic air made each expedition a gamble with their lives. Yet, these missions were essential for survival. The habitat's resources were dwindling, and until Mark's plan could be set in motion, these daring forays to Earth's surface were their lifeline.

Each successful mission brought back not just supplies, but also a glimmer of hope. The scavengers were celebrated as heroes, their courage and resilience a beacon of human spirit and determination. But the reality was stark – these missions were a desperate measure in desperate times, a stark reminder of the consequences of humanity's past actions and the precariousness of their future.

Mark's reverie shattered as alarms blared through the habitat. His wristwatch flashed a warning: another piece of space junk had collided with their fragile home, causing yet another leak. As he sprinted to the bridge, Mark cursed the shortsightedness of his ancestors. Not content with polluting Earth, they had littered space with debris, leaving a dangerous legacy for future generations.

Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

Reaching the bridge, Mark's thoughts were a whirlwind of challenges. The station couldn't withstand many more impacts. They needed to move to a higher orbit, grow more food, find more fuel. The list seemed endless. But what could he do? What could anyone do?

His comm pinged. "Yes? This is Mark."

"Mr. Administrator, this is John from damage control. We've got a new leak, but there's a problem. Med Bay is using our last batch of liquid metal for the surgical bed repairs."

"That's insanity," Mark snapped. "Don't they realize damage control is a priority?"

"Medical says the leaking section can wait for the next batch," John replied hesitantly.

Frustrated, Mark headed to Med Bay to resolve the issue. But as he walked, his mind returned to the larger problem. Their situation was untenable. Orbiting a forsaken planet, dwindling resources, and now, internal conflicts threatened their fragile existence.

Abruptly, the shrill sound of alarms pierced the air, and bulkhead doors clanged shut just ahead of him. Another collision, another breach. His comm device buzzed incessantly with casualty reports – entire families had been lost to the cold expanse of space. Mark's heart weighed heavy with grief. He halted his stride towards Med Bay, his mind racing with the urgency of the situation. But before anything else, he needed to ensure the safety of his own family; their quarters were perilously close to the site of the recent breach.

Fumbling with his communicator, Mark initiated a call to his wife, Mona. Seconds stretched into agonizing minutes as he awaited her response.

"Thank goodness, Mark, you're safe," Mona's voice finally broke through, tinged with relief and worry.

"Yes, honey, I was worried about you and the kids. Is everything alright there?" Mark asked, his voice tense with concern.

"We're fine, Mark. Our section wasn't affected, and the kids were at school, in the safer central part of the habitat. We're all okay," Mona reassured him, her voice steadying. "But Mark, what's our next step? What are we going to do?"

Mark exhaled, a mix of relief and resolve in his breath. "I'm working on it, Mona. I have a plan. I'll fill you in later, but right now, I need to get to the bridge."

He ended the call, his mind already shifting gears.

Yes, he had a plan, one that circumvented the Senate's tedious debates. It was fraught with risk, possibly even illegal, but it was essential. His plan involved using their last reserves of fuel to propel the habitat towards the asteroid belt. In that vast field of rock and metal, they could harvest the vital resources necessary for their survival. The journey would be fraught with danger, but the alternative – remaining in their current, perilous orbit – was tantamount to a death sentence.

As Mark entered the bridge, ready to deliver his speech, the alarms sounded yet again. But this time, it wasn’t an impact. On the large screen, three massive ships of unknown design appeared. A broadcast in multiple Earth languages filled the air.

"We are the Naledi. Your ancestors from 240,000 years ago. We once lived on Earth but had to flee an extinction event. We've built a civilization around Proxima Centauri, and we're here to rescue you."

The message continued, offering humanity a chance to escape to a new solar system. The journey would be long, but the Naledi promised resources and protection, with one condition: "Do no harm."

Do no harm to each other; Do no harm to the environment!

Mark collapsed into his command chair, overwhelmed by a torrent of emotions. Relief, joy, terror. The Naledi, their ancient ancestors, had returned. But why had they remained hidden until now? What secrets did they hold? And what did this mean for the future of humanity?

As the habitat buzzed with discussions and debates over the Naledi's offer, Mark knew one thing for certain: their journey was far from over. It was merely taking a new, unexpected turn towards the stars.