The moment that the first flash had gone off, the screams had begun.
Outright shrieks.
Cries of “no” and “oh God”.
Sobbing and howling.
Incoherent rambling.
Violent cursing.
A few people passed out.
Several became comatose.
More stood silent, breathing deeply, striving to absorb and process what they had just seen.  These people would not tear their gazes away from the wall.
All that could be seen now was a dark, night sky, yet with the sun in view, occasionally interrupted or blocked out by bits of floating debris.
Where our miraculously beautiful Earth had gently rotated, there was only a ball of solid iron.  With a several hundred mile radius, it had instantly been transformed into a dwarf planet.  From where we were, it looked tiny and so dark that it could barely be seen.
I admit to having been one that could not react.
With each passing minute, a new realization of horror hit me.
First came the thought of the people.
Then the animals.
Then the creations of humankind.
Then the friends, family and loved ones of those around me.
Then the people that I had forgotten, as well as those that did not remember me.
Sylvia had taken off running, crying out to her ex-husband, “Aurora!  Where is Aurora?  Have you found her yet?”
Aurora was barely a year old.  I had not been able to spend as much time with her as I wish that I could have.  A child of that age, there was no chance of her remembering me.
The same went for Amber's two children that had yet to meet.   As well the children of all the people that I had lost touch with after school; primary, secondary, college and university.  And all of the people that I had worked with over the years.
All of the children that I had always had the chance to meet and make an impression on.
Every person whose face I had forgotten, whose name I could not recall.
Each of the people that I never gotten to know or bothered to meet simply because I was afraid of human interaction.
Every single last one of them, dead.
Because of me.
Even now that I am thinking back to that day, I still feel the same, maybe not to the extent that it is my fault that they are dead, but that it is my fault that they are not alive.

I do not recall much more for the following few days, so most of what follows is what I have been told since.
What I do remember is my friends disappearing down into the crowds in search of their friends and family, quite a few of these people I knew so it made sense for them to group together as they found each other. 
Left alone at the top of the ramp, I pushed myself along until I was obscured by the low, white wall, my back pressed rigidly against it, gazing up at the view of destruction.
My ears went deaf, my eyes glazed over and all thoughts in my head became completely unintelligible.
Our hosts still stood a few feet away from where I cowered.
They seemed to be observing the reactions of the humans beneath them, waiting for the right time to speak.
It was almost half an hour before anyone seemed to remember that they were even in the room.
So began the cries of blame and hate.  A few items were flung in their direction, however these bounced harmlessly off of another invisible barrier.  No one tried to approach them.
After a few minutes, the one that had been speaking so far, raised his hands, “please, if you will allow me to, I will explain all that I can.”
The voices quieted and someone shouted, “get on with it then!”
“Of course.  We received word of your planet’s impending demise not too long ago, a few hours by your standards.  This information was given to us by the probability calculator, a being capable of predicting the future based on facts, history and probability.  It predicted the Earth being destroyed by its own weapons within one cycle, twenty-four hours of the prediction being made.”
There was no particular reaction from bellow, save the odd disbelieving snort and muttered, “yeah, right.”
He continued, “what destroyed the planet was not us, nor was it any other race that was alien to you.  The weapons that cause the explosions were that of humankind’s own device. Across the whole globe there existed something close to fifteen thousand nuclear warheads, scattered throughout various locations, with many more in certain countries than others.  Through some, as-of-yet-unknown, human device, every last one of those weapons were armed and set off at the exact same time.  We do not yet have the specific details as to what sort of device could have achieved such a thing.  However, the results were, as you have seen, effective.  Unless the person or people responsible were trying to render those weapons as harmless.  For the time being, any theories are speculative.  We are doing a thorough investigation, there may yet be someway to determine what happened.”
Hushed murmurs ran around the room as everyone tried to comprehend what had just been revealed to them.
At length, Jim, Jennifer’s husband, spoke up, “so, what you’re telling us, is that something told you the future, that was Earth being blown up by ourselves, and the only reason that we are not dead right now is because you randomly chose Laura and her psychic link to us, so that you could beam us up to your space ship.  That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”
Our host again scratched the back of his head, “that is an oversimplified way of saying it, but, yes, that is what it all boils down to.”
“OK,” yet another voice speaks, “say we believe all of that…  What happens now?  To us I mean.  Are we going to be spending the rest of our lives in this room or what?”
“We are currently trying to arrange a more permanent arrangement.  It will likely be that we relocate you to a new planet which you can colonize, or find a space station in need of some new inhabitants.  Whatever the case, we are still working on the specifics and will confer with you once we have more solid options.”
“For the time being,” he swept his hand as a gesture across the room, “please relax and take time to process what is happening, there is a rather lengthy adjustment period ahead of you and we aim to help in any way that we can.”
Along the wall with the ledge along the full length, gaps now opened to reveal many dishes of food and drink.
“Please help yourselves to anything that you choose, there is more readily available.  If anyone has any questions, a few of my people will be offering aid at this end of the room.  Those that require medication should speak to them straight away so that we might provide what is needed.”
He paused for a moment, “if any of you need to speak with my directly, my name is Orthus, I am the commander of this vessel.”
The doorway reopened in the wall behind him.  As he and his people made to leave, he turned his head momentarily and spoke quietly, “my condolences for your loss.”
The door slid shut behind him and the lights went back up, the image of our fractured planet faded until it disappeared completely.
The commotion that then arose was colossal.
Anger, fear, confusion, despair, frustration and above all, heartbreak.
Even as I sat in my comatose state, I could feel all of it, as though it were washing over me in wave after wave of dehabilitating emotion, driving me deeper and deeper into myself.
I became unable to move, to speak, to think.

Many hours passed.
During that time, most people seemed to divide themselves into social groups with people that they knew or lived in similar areas to.
Some decided to risk the food that had been offered.
Some attempted to sleep.  When a bed was occupied, the lights surrounding that mattress went out completely.
Some paced, some sat, some stood, a few even started running laps.
It was a long time before anyone approached me.
I do not know if that was because most people know that I process best on my own or if it was that no one gave a thought to me, considering what they were going through.  I believe it to be more likely that no one knew how to face me, what look they should have on their face, what tone of voice to use, what words they should say.  In those moments, what could possibly have been said?
One by one, they came; my friends, my family, the people who had been closest to me.  At least, those that could bare to look at me.  I feared that Sylvia might never be able to see me again. 
From what I am told, I did not respond to a single one of them.
Even when Jennifer tried to grab me by the arm and hauled me up off the floor, I simply flopped down onto my side and stayed lying there.
They took it in shifts to sit with me, saying anything or nothing, just waiting for me to come around.
As more people took to their mattresses, the darker the room became, until there were only fifty or so beds still lit up.  Very few people were actually sleeping, however there was such exhaustion in each of them that lying down was all they were able to do.
At some point I closed my eyes, falling into a fitful sleep.
I awoke with a start half an hour later, dreams of death and retribution lingering in my subconscious.  Amelia sat by my head, gazing at the wall opposite.
When she noticed that I was awake, she somehow managed to get me to sit up and drink the water that I was offered.
I had become rather zombie-like.  I am told that I simply did as I was told; I ate, drank and even made the trip to the toilet all on command.  The walk from where I was sat to the toilet facilities took five or so minutes, given that I was not exactly in a rush.  I would take care of business and then, as if on autopilot, I would make my way back to the top of the ramp, back to my little nook.

A few days passed, they were judged purely on the hours set by the few wrist watches that had been brought along.  Phones were beginning to run out of power and the odd power banks that happened to have made it, were completely dry.
As promised, the tharat set up an area which was secreted to one side by frosted screens, where they appeared to be acting as pharmacists.  The first person to speak to them was Phoebe’s mum, Summer, whose diabetes was such a concern for Phoebe that she convinced and accompanied her to speak to them.
She has always been great at putting people at ease.  From the easy and relaxed conversation that could be noticed throughout the room, curiosity and need drove more people forward.  There was a little hesitation when it came to the medication, as none of it was what was used on Earth.  Fortunately, a woman named Keira Chaney, who was a regular customer at the cinema that I used to work at a few years back, was a chemist.  And I do not mean the kind that you find in a pharmacy.  She had worked at developing antibiotics for a private company.  With her practical knowledge, and some information about the drugs that were being dispensed, she was able to reassure the unsure that they were what was needed.

It was on the second day that Liam Osbourne took his own life.  He was found in a cubicle in the men’s toilets, wrists cut.  I had worked with him at the cinema, I have few pleasant memories of him, professionalism was not his strong suit and, if you believed the rumours that constantly ran rampant around that place, he had a difficult situation at home, though no one ever claimed to know what it was.  It came as a shock that he killed himself, however it was an understandable action for someone of his mentality to have done given the circumstances.
Fortunately, he was not discovered by any child and the tharat handled the situation with dignity and reverence.  A collection of people that had worked alongside him held a small gathering to see him off and commiserate his final choice. 
The small gathering quickly turned into a ceremony of sorts, to honour, remember and say goodbye to their family, friends, colleagues, pets, creations…
To bid farewell to the Earth.
The small gathering grew and grew, until every human being in that room had joined in, raising cups to the deceased, allowing themselves to be comforted by the mass.  The tharat even supplied enough alcohol for every adult to have a glass.  The alcohol was a type that had been brewed on the ship, one glass was more than enough proof to reduce everyone to shared tears and comradery.  It also had a rather soporific effect; every person slept soundly that night.  It was as though they were starting to relax from the state of paranoia and mourning.
As everyone woke up, there were no headaches, no nausea and no dehydration.  I am still unsure as to exactly was in the drink, however I have since learned that it contains a chemical mixture that raises endorphin levels as well as the usual effects.  Another nonalcoholic drink that was served at the same time, contained something similar to turmeric, which preemptively combated the possible hangovers.

On the third day, our hosts finally revealed what they looked like. 
With the comfort of their charges, they felt that people were ready to absorb the sight of something that would be dismissed as unnatural or scary.
The first to uncover their faces were the crew that had been working in the room.
The easiest way to describe how the tharat look is to say that they are pterodactyls without wings or the pointed cap on their heads.
Their skin ranges from deep green to light brown, and every shade of either or both in between, with a texture like an iguana’s.  Their arms are almost as long as their bodies, with elbows that are only one quarter of the length from their shoulders.  Their wrists are almost non-distinguishable from the rest of their arms unless they are moving.  Their hands are about three quarters of the size that you would expect them to be, fingers curled with pointed yet dull claws.  Their legs are short, yet not to the point that it limits their maneuverability.  Their heads are dented ovals with beak-shaped mouths that are flesh instead of the solid skin of birds, they are able to move and bend when they talk which, I am ashamed to say, looked quite comical before getting use to the sight.
Other than a few nervous children, their appearance was quickly processed and accepted by all.
All, save a small group of people that constantly remained huddled together in one corner.  It was discovered that they had not eaten or had anything to drink since we arrived.  They had been surviving on the combined food and drink that they had between them and could scavenge from anyone else who was giving theirs away.
It was not long before their supplies depleted or other people stopped giving them their food.
Their leader was Chasity Bryne.  She took the matter to the tharat that were in the middle of prescribing an asthmatic.
“Hi, yes hello,” she barged into their cordoned off area, interrupting their patient who was describing the inhaler that they usually used.  “We need some safe food.”
“Apologies,” one of them replied, “I do not understand.  We have provided large amounts of food, including some that is suitable for vegetarians, vegans and people with various allergies.  Do you have an allergy that we are unaware of?  If so we can…”
Chasity cut her off, “I have an allergy to alien food.  We need food made by, and for, humans.  Food that is safe from whatever brain washing drugs or poison you’re feeding every other sucker in this place.”
The tharat's eyes widened in shock, “oh no, please, there is nothing of the sort in your food.”  The distress on her face, despite being an unusual shape, was clear to everyone, “has someone been sick or acting strangely after eating something?” 
“We're not dumb enough to have taken the risk to find out.”  Chasity pointed around the room, “it’s only a matter of time before these people drops dead or start trying to kill each other!” 
She slammed her fist down on the nearest table, “we want human food, fuck knows where that crap's come from and what it has in it, it’s probably giving them cancer or something.”
“I am very sorry,” the poor tharat seemed to be getting very confused, “we do not have any other food than what is being served, it is the same food that we eat ourselves.  Please could you explain more simply what you mean by safe food, I am afraid I do not understand.”
“Listen to me big-bird!” the outraged woman before her was losing any patience that she considered herself to have had, “We.  Are.  Not.  Eating.  Your.  Food.  If you don’t give us food that is made by humans, for humans, we won’t eat.  Your precious test subjects will starve to death.  Now, you either get us food that we can eat, or go get someone else that can get it for us.”
“Her name is Thella,” Jennifer had made her way over, “what the hell is your problem?  There’s nothing wrong with the food!”
“Yeah, cause someone who's thinking their own thoughts would totally say that.”
“Why would they save us, just to kill us?”
Chasity snorted at her, “to study and experiment on us!  Or make us into slaves or pets.  Who the fuck cares why?  Aren’t you worried about your kids, what kind of mother do you call yourself?”
Jennifer raised her hand, but faltered as Orthus shouted, “STOP!”  He walked quickly over to where the altercation was taking place, “please, there is no call for violence.”  He pulled apart the divider and stepped through, “What appears to be the issue here?”
“Oh, something in charge, wonderful,” Chasity sneered at Jennifer, “we simply want some human food, something that we recognize.  Your “nurse” here, is refusing to cooperate.”
“Is there something wrong with the food that we have provided?  I realize it is not what you are used to, however it is the best we could do with such short notice.”
“Look,” Chasity was beginning to turn a rather dark shade of red, “I am done with explaining myself to complete idiots.  We want human food.  We will starve ourselves if we have to until we are given what we have the right to demand.”
“I see,” Orthus tapped the table lightly with the tips of his fingers, “please then, would you be so kind as to tell us where we might procure this food for you.”
“How should I…”
“As you are aware, we barely made it in time to save those of you in this room.  We are currently over working our food processors trying to provide food, not just for yourself, but every other soul on board this vessel, of which there are several thousand.  If you have knowledge of where we might find human made food, it would help greatly.”
Chasity squinted her eyes and pursed her lips, “I don't know, its not up to me to sort these things out, that would be your job.”
“Well,” Orthus' voice remained impassive, “in that case I am afraid that you will indeed starve then.”
Chasity's jaw dropped, “what?  You… you can’t…”
“Fear not,” Orthus continued, “once you have passed out from dehydration, we will make sure that you are given a nutrient drip until you are well again.  We are willing to repeat the process as much as is required until you are taken to your new home, at which point you will have the means to make your own food.”
Chasity was enraged, “you can’t do that!  I have rights!  There's no way you’ll do that!”
Orthus tilted his head and said, “actually, you do not.  Have any rights that is.  Humanity is not a species recognized by the Community.  You may have had rights on Earth, amongst your own people, however you planet is gone and your race without government, let alone rights.  All that you have is right here in this room, which you do not even have the right to occupy.  You are allowed here by the grace and sympathy of my people.  We have taken responsibility for you safekeeping and resettlement, however beyond that, we owe you nothing.  You are alive today because of pity and kindness, you would do well to be as civil as all of the other humans around you are.  Do not become the example of someone that we will regret saving.”
A rousing round of applause broke out from the crowd of people that had gathered to listen to the confrontation. 
Chasity was silent, mouth wide open, horrified at her treatment.  “You won’t get away with this!” she cried before turning sharply an stalking back to her group who remained huddled in the corner.
Orthus looked around himself at the smiling faces and scratched the back of his head, “I am sorry to make such derogatory remarks about your race, you do have our utmost respect and care, it is our hope that as soon as a human colony is established, the Community will accept you as equals.  I hope that she understands that we ultimately have your welfare and prosperity as our highest priority.”
“Don’t worry,” Emma spoke up, “my mum's more intolerant than most, she was very much one of those ‘Britain first' people, you know.”
“She doesn’t like what she doesn’t understand,” Jennifer added, having volunteered at the same charity shop where I had met Chasity, she was well aware of her personality, “she doesn’t represent any of us, we are all beyond grateful for what you are doing for us.”  As she spoke she gestured around at everyone standing around, who began nodding in agreement.
Someone in the crowd cried out, “give it up for the tharat!” to which the most tremendous applause erupted.