I always thought my first time on the beach would be on Earth.

And I didn’t think it would involve a 700-million ton spacecraft falling from the sky. Maybe that was too much to ask for.

I’d never seen the entire ship all at once, until now, with my soaked sneakers pressed into the blinding white sand. Sure, we went over extensive diagrams in class, saw holographic pictures, watched instructional and safety videos. And I’d explored at least a quarter of the interior by then. But this was the first time I got a glimpse of the impossibly massive spaceship, top to bottom.

Up close, anyway.

The last time I got a good look at it was 4 weeks ago. My last day on Earth.

Cranked my neck skyward and got a brief glance at it. Then I was ushered into a smaller vessel with no windows, just a black box with seat belts, which shuttled a thousand of us up to the ship that dwarfed our tiny vehicle. The enormous ship that was now plummeting helplessly from space: Shamus Five. 

Too heavy to be efficiently built on Earth, Shamus Five was constructed in space over a yearlong period, just outside the planet’s atmosphere. 11 other Shamus ships just like it were constructed simultaneously, surrounding the globe from every angle, overlooking the desperate continents of hopeful souls. Each one was to house, educate and transport 8 million passengers apiece. The Shamus ships were, for the entire planet, priority number one.

During my final few moments on Earth, I saw two of the massive spacecrafts as minuscule dots in the sky, like watchful eyes looking down on me. The design was almost like that of an old-fashioned blimp. Long, metallic and tubular crafts, nothing special to look at. Other than the fact that they were spaceships. But no time to sightsee, I was hastily shoved into the little black box, and the wide metal door clamped shut behind me. A puff of steam, and then darkness. That shuttle, and hundreds of others like it, was kept hidden from all but those of us meant to leave Earth. 

The chosen survivors.

Why I was selected to live, to have the chance to seek out new inhabitable planets while the rest of mankind was left to die, I’d never know. I’d seen footage of the Shamus ships being built. And the debates. The TV specials. The riots that took place worldwide concerning who got to board and who didn’t. Part of me wondered why it wasn’t one of those protesters in my place. They sure seemed to want it more than I did.

            Two months prior to boarding Shamus Five, I was brought to and kept in a secret location with a large group of strangers. Somewhere underground, and huge. Well, huge in width anyway. I’m not very tall, and still, it felt like I would bump my head on the cold, featureless ceiling. It was a tunnel without walls, essentially. No walls that I could see, anyway. From one end of the stark metal room to the other, must have been miles. Couldn’t even guess at the shape of the room itself. It almost felt like a prison. Except people wanted to get in, not out. DNA identification was rigorous and regular, and security was tight, ensuring no impostors were smuggling their way off planet.

Over the next couple months, strangers trickled out the only exit, emptying the place more and more. Passengers gradually shuttled up to their respective Shamus ship via the little black boxes. We’d all been cut off from the rest of the world during this time, but I assume many attempts were made to hijack these vessels. I wonder if anyone succeeded.

When the town-sized room had become harrowingly empty, they didn’t even call our names as they did for every other group. I just heard, “Anyone still here— you’re the last batch.”

Truth be told, watching the population minimize every day while I stayed put, I began to wonder if I was leaving at all. Then my last Earth day finally came. I sat shoulder-to-shoulder with a thousand unknown faces, and only then realized we were all young adults. College-aged. I almost forgot that our ship was special. They were taking us to Shamus Five. Our new home, school, and enormous space bus for 80+ weeks of intergalactic travel. We plugged into the spacecraft and boarded. Not even a day later, all 12 Shamus ships left our doomed solar system, never to return. I never even got to see what our ship really looked like.
 
             But here, now, with my feet planted on this mysterious beach, I saw the entirety of Shamus Five up close and in vivid detail. One-twelfth of humanity’s last chance. Our vessel of salvation, our Noah’s Arc, our beacon of hope…

I watched in unspeakable fear as all 700 million tons of it fell out of the sky.
 
It’s hard to describe exactly what I was looking at, but none of it was good. The gigantic rear thrusters that once propelled the ship were now dead. They'd been severed from the rest of Shamus Five by cosmic violence I couldn't even fathom. Part of the enormous bow had also been decapitated from the lengthy fuselage, creating a storm of shattered debris in between. I think... I think I could see bodies scattered among the pieces.

Three colossal chunks of what housed 8 million souls just minutes before… Were now hurling through the bright blue sky towards the ocean surface. Well, not the ocean surface. An ocean surface, I guess. I didn’t know where we were, hadn’t really had time to think about it.
It wasn’t Earth though, I knew that. But it certainly felt like Earth.
My muscles, despite being beaten up by the escape pod’s rough landing, told me that the gravity here was nearly identical to Earth’s. Maybe even less powerful. The tree line that overlooked the beach was comprised of tall, broad vegetation. Huge, in fact. Thick and sturdy at the bottom, like miniature mountains. Then the trunks essentially narrowed into straight palm trees after several feet and climbed towards the sky. The sand that outlined my drenched shoes was a fine, spongy powder. It reminded me of Earth’s tropical destinations. The ones I’d seen commercials for, that is. The water I’d