Eventually they were told about the comet. "Get supplies... inside...anything." Too late. Food, water, gone, procured for Project Second Genesis... our progenitors. Humanity's survival left no alternative. Now, just west of dawn, the seemingly endless night ending, we prepare to return, and fear, could anything survive above? Cold, dark, desolate. Are they waiting?
Legend tells of those who fled deep into the earth, leaving us destitute, leaving us to die. Someday they'll crawl from their culvert, after centuries of endless winter nights, to claim our world. Remember their machinations, their forked tongues. When dawn returns we'll be waiting, to redirect the comet's fury.
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