[ WP ] The year is 2150 and mankind is visiting a potentially life-bearing planet in a different solar system . They find other humans .

John relaxed into the command couch of the Saint Brendan, and glanced around eagerly at his companions. Each of the seven other bridge crew members were already seated, fully engaged with their control consoles. John thumbed a button on the arm of the couch to activate his. 
 
 From behind the couch, a hydraulic arm hissed, rotating the console helmet from the panel it was stowed in, and slowly lowering the helmet over John ’ s head. The couch restraints slipped into place, and tightened around his chest and legs. “ Just like the simulator ” thought John. Inside the helmet, a screen flickered to life. 
 
 The display defaulted to a star map, showing a flyby animation of the route from Earth, to Kepler-438b. Near the end of the animation, the current position of the saint Brendan was indicated with a triangle overlaying the flightpath. Slightly ahead of the triangle, was a crossed circle symbol. Retroburn. 
 
 Over the years John had practiced this manoeuvre at least a hundred times in the simulator with his cousins. At first, his grandfather had guided them through the run, giving each of them instructions and feedback. Later, the runs were mostly silent, and mostly successful. This time, there would be no guiding voice and no second tries. If the retroburn manoeuvre failed, the Saint Brendan would drift endlessly through space, and within a few years its thousands of passengers would be dead. 
 
 John flicked a switch to indicate the maneuver was to begin. Each of the cousins began working their consoles, and the sickening force of inertia pressed john into his seat. John adjusted the controls, monitoring each of the systems required for propulsion, and barked orders to his crew. The ordeal lasted around ten minutes. 
 
 The pressure released from John as the engines returned to their idle state. His cousins cheered. The star map animation, now showed a circular orbit rather than a parabolic arc. John had delivered his great grandfather ’ s ship to the new world. 
 
 The cheering was abruptly cut off by the sound of static, emanating from speakers around the bridge. The static resolved into a voice. 
 
 “ Saint Brendan, do you read us? Saint Brendan? … This is outpost four, and are we ever glad to see you. Humanity ’ s first sub-lightspeed generation ship has finally found its way home. ” 

