A/N: And so, here is the closer to this tale. No, not rushed. I actually had two days off from work, and not much else to do, and I was in the mood to write, so here is the Epilogue to The Origin Of Life. Keep your eyes open though. I may write a sequel! :D

May 7, 2556

My career as a terraformer, soldier, bio-engineer, and general researcher has met its end, I'm afraid.

During the war, I fought and survived. Human morality can be a non-existent force, when the only options are life and death. I was given the gift of life, while many died. I could've easily taken someone Else's place and be laying in a bed of dirt and glass. But here I am, leaving everything I once held dear. Earth has been my home since my mother gave birth to me; here I grew and learned, transformed into what I am now. I do not regret my choice in this matter in any way, shape, or form.

What does a person normally do what the thing they care most about is torn from them? Some grieve, trying to find closure and a way to cope. Some reject the reality and live a life of pure denial. Some earn depression, joy, courage, motivation... not me. I earned forgiveness. My research is not who I am, who I was, or who I will be. It was what my job was. I was meant to grow beyond my own boundaries, whatever I believe them to be. My experiences are what define who I am. And this is the path I choose to take.

Freedom was offered to me. The price for it was right. I have no regrets, and I made this choice of my own free will. Should you come to look for me, chances are that you will find me. But know that I chose this on my own. I was not persuaded in any way, nor was I taken as a prisoner.

Lord Hood made the choice of removing me from my own projects, sold my data to the highest bidder, and tossed Harvest away to the dogs. Earth needs her colonies, and if that is no longer a priority, then I am no longer needed here. There are others who can do the same as I. I wish this planet, and her people well.

I leave this here, To Whom It May Concern. Maybe there will at least be one person who can learn from my own mistakes.

Hayden MacMillan.

"Dr. MacMillan? Dr MacMillan, you're late for the conference!" A soldier had called, banging on the door to her quarters. His hand kept flailing as he continued to call out, and eventually, it slid open to reveal a vacant room. Everything was tidy; bed was made, chair right up to the desk. However, there was no sign of any clothing that remained.

His eyes scanned the standardized furniture, and one by one, the drawers to each piece flew open. There was nothing in the dresser, and the only other piece was a single drawer in her desk. Yet, something had caught his attention. There was a small notebook sitting open, words scribbled upon the two open-faced pages.

"My career as a terraformer, soldier, bioengineer, and general researcher has met its end, I'm afraid?" He read, his eyes growing wide. Snatching up the book, he made his way for Lord Hood's office.