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The Beacon
Day 1: Embarking into the Unknown
Today we crossed the threshold. We’re officially beyond charted space, with nothing ahead but the vast unknown. The crew is on edge, but there’s excitement too, a tangible sense that we’re on the edge of something monumental. We are the first ship to venture beyond the Alpha Centauri star system. The USS Pathfinder feels like a heartbeat in the silence of space, each hum of the engines a steady reminder of the home we’re leaving behind.
Our mission is clear: map the regions beyond the frontier, catalog any celestial bodies, and search for habitable worlds. I’ve spent my professional life in the Sol and Alpha Centauri star systems, but here, out in the untouched dark, I feel something I haven’t felt in years, a sense of absolute pride that we were chosen for this mission. I wonder what lies ahead and what secrets this darkness holds.
Day 12: First Encounter
Today, we came across an anomaly. Dr. Barker describes it as a nebula unlike anything we’ve seen before, vibrant and pulsing with colors that defy description. It’s massive, stretching across our visual screens and dense with energy. Our sensors are picking up fluctuating gravitational fields, and there’s a low-frequency hum that echoes through the ship’s hull. Some of the crew say it feels alive, like a presence lurking just beyond our reach.
I ordered us closer, and the glow of the nebula lit up the bridge, casting everything in hues of violet and electric blue. It was beautiful and unnerving. The science team is gathering data, but I can feel tension in the air. The vast emptiness is supposed to be silent, but this nebula feels like it’s watching us.
Day 27: Lost Signals
Isolation is starting to take its toll. Deep space has a way of closing in on you. The crew is beginning to feel it also. The weight of the void, the silence pressing in from all sides. Even routine check-ins have a sense of urgency, as if each system scan or ship diagnostic could stave off the emptiness for a moment.
This morning, we lost contact with Fleet Command. The communication array is functioning perfectly, but there’s nothing on the other end but static. It’s strange, knowing we’re alone, truly alone. Dr. Rao, my chief navigator, suggested it might be interference from a nearby planet’s magnetosphere. Still, the feeling lingers. You know, that nagging sense that we’re slipping further from everything we know.
Day 34: The Forgotten Planet
Our sensors picked up a planet orbiting a dying star, its light dim and barely casting a shadow. We hadn’t expected to find anything here; the charts listed this system as barren. As we approached, the planet came into view. I can only describe it as a dark, desolate world, scarred and pitted with deep canyons and endless plains of gray rock. I ordered a survey team to scan the surface from orbit.
What they found was unexpected. The planet has faint traces of atmosphere, remnants of ancient life barely distinguishable beneath centuries of erosion. It’s a graveyard of a living world, victim of the universe. Standing on the bridge, it lingers in the back of my mind that this world had life once, and it’s a sobering reminder of what could happen to any of our own worlds if we’re not careful.
The team wants to study it further, but something about this place feels wrong, like it’s a place best left undisturbed. It is just simply eerie.
Day 48: The Signal
We’ve been drifting in deep space for days, scanning each sector meticulously, when we picked up a faint signal. It was a steady and rhythmic pulse from a distant direction from our current course. It doesn’t match any known pattern, and it’s not natural. The science team believes it’s artificial, possibly a distress call, but its origin traces light-years from any known civilization.
The signal is a mystery; one we can’t ignore. I’ve ordered a course adjustment to follow it, even if it means diverting from our planned trajectory. There’s a quiet resolve among the crew, a shared understanding that this could be the discovery of a lifetime, or a warning. Either way, we’re going to investigate.
Day 60: Into the Rift
The signal led us to a region of space that our deep space telescopes never picked up. It is a rift of dense, dark matter, an expanse that seems to devour light itself. The crew is nervous, and I can’t blame them. The scanners are struggling to penetrate the darkness, and there’s a strange energy field interfering with our systems.
The ship is slowly entering this space, careful not to disrupt the delicate balance of gravity and dark matter around us. The silence is heavier here, and even the hum of the engines feels muted, like we’re slipping into another realm. The signal is stronger now, almost deafening. There’s no turning back.
Day 72: The Beacon
At the center of the rift, we found a massive structure, unlike anything we’ve ever seen. It’s ancient, monolithic, and pulsing with energy. We’ve dubbed it “The Beacon.” The signal is emanating from this structure, a rhythmic pulse that seems almost alive, echoing through the void.
The science team is speechless. Dr. Rao believes it’s a relic of an ancient, non-human race, a monument left behind by beings far older than us. It’s surrounded by a gravitational field that shifts constantly, almost as if it’s protecting itself. I feel like we’re intruding, like we’ve stumbled upon a sacred relic from a forgotten era.
We’re documenting everything, but I can’t shake the feeling that we shouldn’t be here. There’s a sense of reverence among the crew, and for the first time, I understand why some of them speak of “the void” with awe.
Day 80: The Return
After days of studying the structure, we’ve left the rift. The Beacon’s signal still pulses in the background, a constant reminder of what we found, but it fades as we put distance between us. The crew is quiet, each of us lost in our thoughts, processing the weight of what we’ve seen.
The journey back to charted space will be long and we are still working on re, and I can already feel the pull of home, the comfort of familiarity. But a part of me wants to turn around, to dive back into the unknown and see what else lies hidden in the dark.
Day 82: The Coverup Begins
Once we were able to reestablish direct communication with Fleet Command, I sent a detailed report of what we discovered. This encounter was immediately sealed and our mission terminated.
Day 118: Nothing There Was Seen
I feel forever changed, as though I left a piece of myself back there with The Beacon. We ventured into the void searching for answers, but all we’ve found are more questions. All I know is that it is the true nature of exploration, to chase the unknown, even if it means never finding an end.
Sometime in the future:
As a side note, the mission commander of the follow-on mission shared with me that the beacon was no longer there. Upon that revelation, all I can think know is that something or someone knows we are out there, bumbling around in the dark. I can only ask, what does that mean and what will come of it?
--- End of Log ---
Captain Elias Kade, USS Pathfinder