[ WP ] [ X-Post from /r/futurewhatif ] We send a small group of diverse people with supplies to a planet similar enough to Earth to allow them to colonize it . Soon after they land , Solar flares ( or whatever ) stop us from contacting them for 100+ years . After that time we are able to speak with them again .

♪ *This is Ground Control to Major Tom; Your circuits dead, there's something wrong; Can you hear me Major Tom? Can you hear me Major Tom? * ♪ 
 
 Nothing like some good ole David Bowie lyrics to start the day. When I figured out I'd start working as a one man crew at NASA manning a long distance radio, I knew there would be plenty of down time. So, naturally, I made sure to fill up my IPod with plenty of space themed hits. 
 
 Of course, there were classics like Sinatra's `` Fly me to the Moon'' or Jimi Hendrix's `` Astroman,'' but I always started my day with the familiar Bowie hit, `` Space Oddity.''. After all, I *was* Ground Control, and there *was* an officer named Tom leading the expedition. Not that it mattered, being that it has been 107 years since they took off. It's not like they would ever respond anyway. 
 
 ♪*Can you HEEEARRR*♪ 
 
 Just as I attempted, and miserably failed, to stretch the long note, I heard some static from the other side. Pausing the stereo, I listened intently. 
 `` Just static,'' I concluded, shrugging off the odd occurrence as I turned the tunes back on. 
 
 ♪*Am I floating in a tincan, 
 Far, above the Moon; 
 Oh, Planet Earth is blue, 
 And there's nothing I can do, *♪ 
 
 `` Hello.'' 
 
 I stopped as quickly as I heard it. That was definitely no static. 
 
 `` This is Major Tom to Ground Control.'' 
 
 There was no way. Somebody had to be fucking with me. 
 
 `` Ground Control, come in. Ground Control.'' 
 
 `` I'm here,'' I quickly spoke into the mic, coming to the realization that even if this was a prank, this was not the time to take any risks. 
 
 `` This is Ground Control. It has been 107 years, 45 days, and 32 minutes since last contact. What is the situation down there, Apollo.'' 
 
 I had no idea whether their call sign was actually Apollo. I had just finished a Battlestar Galactica bender and it seemed to fit. What would they care, we had n't spoken in over 100 years. 
 
 `` Our side is hardly managing, Ground Control.'' said Major Tom. `` We've exhausted the supplies. The ground here is hardly fertile. We've subsisted mainly on Lima beans.'' 
 
 `` Luckily, this planet is rich in fuel. We have the ship's tank full with extra barrels in the cargo hold. All we need is the coordinates to get back.'' 
 
 He spoke in a very stoic voice. I found it unsettling, but who was I to complain. I guess 107 years apart really changes social interactions. At this point, noticing the radio signal, my superiors had already shuffled into the room, the President listening over the telephone. I had pulled out a dusty old file from the cabinet behind me, blowing off the dust before I read the contained documents. 
 
 `` Hold on, Apollo. First we need the details. Population count, pH samples, the works.'' I recited as if I read it straight out of a manual. 
 
 `` I assume you still have the Carbose Oscillation Scanner Mechanism.'' 
 
 `` Ummm, well we have an old dusty generator type deal coated in glass with a pump shaped piece inside.'' 
 
 `` That sounds right,'' I replied. 
 
 `` Now I want you to place a finger on the blue, square shaped button in the middle of the console.'' 
 
 `` Alright. It's done'' he replied in a robotic fashion. 
 
 `` Are you sure? I did n't hear the click. If the button does n't click, there will be trouble with the system.'' 
 
 `` Are you sure it is still working?'' he replied. `` I mean, it has been over a century.'' 
 
 `` Trust me Apollo, it has been reinforced with lab constructed alloys engineered for longevity and endurance.'' 
 
 I heard the click and my computer opened a loading screen. 
 
 `` How is it looking Ground Control.'' 
 
 `` Just one second Apollo.'' 
 
 The screen read `` 0''. The generals behind me were confused, but I knew what the number meant. 
 
 `` Alright Major Tom, we are calculating the coordinates now.'' 
 
 `` Finally..... We are starving.'' 
 
 `` I bet,'' I retorted. 
 
 After the calculations were through I pressed the button. *The* button. The big red circle on the controls I had held myself back from pressing since I started this gig. 
 
 `` You know Apollo, it's weird.'' 
 
 `` What is weird,'' said Major Tom, in his signature monotone voice. 
 
 `` I've been reading the file and while there is a record of an Officer Thomas J. Lorenzo, he was only a Second Lieutenant. When did you get promoted?'' 
 
 `` About 30 years ago,'' he responded. 
 
 `` Hmmm, so how old does that makes you, 137?'' 
 
 `` Yep.'' 
 
 `` Hey Ground Control,'' Major Tom said hurriedly. `` What's that in the sky.'' 
 
 `` Oh nothing, just a little contingency plan in case Team Delta Victor never returned.'' 
 
 The generals all stood behind me, stunned. I could feel their eyes glaring daggers in my back. 0. The 0 on the screen still flashed, on and off. 0 humans left on the far away planet. All the scanner picked up was the bite marks left on their bones. God rest their souls. 
 
 *BOOOOOOMMMMM* 
 
 `` It's all in a days work gentlemen. That and,'' I turned around to reset my stereo, `` some tunes.'' 
 
 ♪ *Ground Control to Major Tom; Commencing countdown, Engines on; Check Ignition, And may God's Love be with Youuuuu* ♪ 

