8:02 PM (Earth Time)
Twenty-five years drifting in the cold, dark vacuum of space. We lost all contact with the other nine hundred ships that took of when Earth ended. I don’t even know what day it is anymore. About two Earth years ago the ship was struck with a solar wind that rebooted everything. The onboard computer indicated that we were still on course to reach our destination in fifty-five years, but I have a bad feeling that we might be lost. Very lost. I pray that I’m wrong.
The fifteen of us oversaw the maintenance this giant of a space craft appropriately named Noah’s Ark as it made its way through the darkness. We, like the nine hundred and ninety ships that that took off with us were the last hope that humanity lives on. We lost contact with two hundred ships within months of exiting the solar system with a hundred and fifty-four confirmed crashes due to malfunction and other unexplained events. But we all had no choice but to push on. We had no choice. As I log this, I am looking at the live footage of our home planet. Of course, I am looking at a picture that is three lights years away. When we left, the moon was in million pieces. It was quite a site. Those beings came from no where and have been living among us for thousands of years. I do not wish to get into that right now.
My only focus as a captain of this ship NA-254 is to get the last hope of humanity safely to the new planet we found. Two years before we left. It was really by divine intervention that we found this planet. A drone ship is on its final approach and decelerating and will be sending live videos in the next few months. That’s something we all must look forward to.
Still, I can’t help but feel that we are lost despite the computers indicating otherwise.
For one, everything appears to be millions of light years away. Alpha Centauri was our guide to the new home planet but it’s no where to be seen. Two of the crew members are telling me that everything seems far away because we are travelling at a hundred times the speed of light. They assure me that when we decelerate everything should come back to normal. My crew are good, honest people and I do trust them. For all of our sakes, I do hope that they are right.
The sheer emptiness of space is very unsettling. I can’t see anything but darkness in all directions. One single miscalculation of our course would lead us to a location billions of light years away from our new home.
It was impossible. We detected another ship. I’m running out to the main deck. Doctor Sarah Robinson and David Kimble confirmed that the ship is one of ours. Our security team were suiting up in tactical gear. I could feel getting heavier as we decelerated. We are approaching the ship. At this stage we still can’t identify the ship’s ID. Dr Robinson frantically scanned the ship. There are no replies to our coms.
We sent out a drone to scan the ship closely.
So far, there are no signs of life. Visually, the ship appears to have been battered and aged more than ours. My hope is to salvage any survivors that are in cryosleep. The chassis number that is identifiable on all sides of the craft have been scratched out and the beacons aren’t functioning. Every minute that passes, a cold feeling is over coming me. I turn to look at the nine men and one woman security team and they seem excited that they get to shoot at something. My hands are trembling. The chance of saving one single survivor outweighs the risk of entering and dead unidentified ship.
I’m giving the green light to the security team.
I take full responsibility of my decision.