Sunshine

Our sun is dying.

Mankind faces extinction.

Seven years ago the Icarus Project sent a mission

to restart the sun...

but that mission was lost before it reached the star.

16 months ago, I, Robert Capa, and a crew of seven

left Earth frozen in a solar winter.

Our payload-- a stellar bomb

with a mass equivalent to Manhattan Island

Our purpose-- to create a star within a star.

Eight astronauts strapped to the back of a bomb-- my bomb.

Welcome to Icarus II.

Icarus?

Yes, Dr. Searle?

Please re-filter the observation room portal.

Filter up or down, Dr. Searle?

Down.

Oh, my...

Icarus, how close is this to full brightness?

At this distance of 36 million miles...

you are observing the sun at 2% of full brightness.

Two percent?

Can you show me 4%?

4% would result in irreversible damage

to your retinas.

However, you could observe 3.1 %

for a period of not longer than 30 seconds.

All right, Icarus...

I'm going to reset the filter to 3.1 %.

Well, it's... it's invigorating.

It's like, um, taking a shower in light.

You lose yourself a little.

Like a floatation tank?

Actually, no.

Uh... it's more like-- No, it's not like a floatation tank at all.

- It's more like... What is it, beef?

It's chicken.

You don't like it?

You take my shift next time.

For psych tests on deep space...

I ran a number of sensory deprivation trials...

tested in total darkness on floatation tanks

and the point about darkness is you float in it.

You and the darkness... - Chili!

Are distinct from each other...

because darkness is an absence of something.

It's a vacuum.

But total light envelopes you.

It becomes you.

It's very strange. I don't, um--

I recommend it.

What's strange, Searle...

is that you're the psych officer on this ship

and I'm clearly a lot saner than you are.

Mmm, good.

All right, if no one is going to say it, I'm going to.

The solar wind reading is much higher

than we'd anticipated at this distance.

For the moment, we can still send package messages back.

High-frequency verse will rise

above the interference, and the moon stations

will be able to pick them up.

But it's possible that within 24 hours...

we won't be able to communicate at all.

Possible?

Probable.

We'll finally be on our own.

We're 55 million miles from Earth. I'd say we're already on our own.

Come on, guys. We were expecting this.

No great drama.

We are flying into the dead zone seven days sooner than we thought.

But if any of you are planning on sending a final message home...

you should do it now.

Uh, well, Mom and Dad...

uh... uh, I hope you're proud of your son...

saving mankind and so on.

By the time you get this message, I'll be in the dead zone.

Uh, it came a little sooner than we thought...

but this means that you won't be able to send a message back.

So I just wanted to let you know that I don't need the message

because I know everything you want to say.

Just remember...

it takes eight minutes for light to travel from sun to Earth...

which means you'll know we've succeeded

about eight minutes after we deliver the payload.

All you have to do is look out

for a little extra brightness in the sky.

So if you wake up one morning

and it's a particularly beautiful day...

you'll know we made it.

Okay.

I'm signing out.

And I'll see you in a couple of years.

Ah!

Icarus, dial it down a little, will you?

Yes, Corazon.

Captain?

Captain?

I'm guessing you've been talking to Searle.

So, do you have that report for me?

Yeah, right here.

The O₂ productivity is good.

In fact, if anything, we're overproducing.

It will trail off dramatically when we get nearer.

But in truth, we already have the oxygen reserves

to make it there and a quarter way back.

You're thinking about Icarus I.

Well, whatever it was that tripped them up...

I don't think it was a lack of oxygen.

Not on the outward journey at any rate.

- (Groaning, Grunting) - Fuck!

- You fuckin'-- - (Groaning)

You fuck--

- Mace! Mace! - Mace! Mace!

- What the hell are you doing? - Fuck!

- Relax. Put it down. - You son of a bitch!

I'll fuckin'-- Fucker took an hour in there!

I can't send my package. The wind is too high!

- Mace! Calm down. - I'm sorry, all right?

Jesus.

Kaneda, Searle, report to flight deck.

- Fuck! - What's up?

I didn't realize it was taking so long.

We have an excess of manliness breaking out in the comm center.

So how does this work?

Am I supposed to tell you about my childhood?

I probably know more about your childhood than you do.

It's the time.

16 months, you can get used to anything.

You just...

lose track.

I know I fucked up.

From now on...

I'm not going to lose track again.

Prescription:

Earth Room, two hours.

And get a haircut, Mace.

Yeah.

Bring back the waves.

Dr. Searle's prescription specifies a peaceful module.

The waves make me feel peaceful.

Again.

- Mace, I'm sorry. - Listen, before you say anything...

- I should have let you go first and... - Capa! Capa!

It's me. I'm the one apologizing, all right?

All right.

- Was that the apology? - Yeah.

- Consider it accepted. - Okay.

It was a sequence of contact reports on the top left shield quadrant...

which, by 1700, had turned into a minor asteroid storm...

none bigger than a raindrop.

But we had 19 punctures

and a secondary contact to the engine compartment.

It took three alpha shifts to patch it up.

Lost a little bite, but nothing serious.

I watched them hit us from the observation room.

Got to tell you, Moon Base, it was--

It was... beautiful.

Got to tell you, Moon Base, it was--

it was... beautiful.

Mace. - Yeah?

Your maintenance program allows a further 14 minutes

for the mainframe panel to remain out of coolant tank.

Shit!

Ah...

- (Beeping) - Guys...

you want to see something?

I should have a few words to say...

but on reflection, what can one say?

Ladies and gentlemen...

Mercury.

23 hours ago, while making a routine check on the comm systems--

While listening to your space music?

While scanning the frequencies, I heard a transmission.

It appeared as we flew into the dark side of Mercury.

The iron content of the planet is acting as an antenna.

There's still high background interference...

but the signal is clear enough.

Icarus, please play

audio file 75/B.

Yes, Harvey.

End file.

What is it?

It's the Icarus I.

That signal is their distress beacon.

Jesus.

That's impossible. It's been seven years.

Clearly it's not impossible because you can hear it

with your own ears.

Are you saying they're still alive?

- We don't know. But they could be.