Chapter One: “Erebus-1”
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Mission Log – Sol 1
Designation: Erebus-1
Commander: Dr. Ray Godfrey
Location: Interstellar Void, Sector JX-914, 0.3 LY from Origin Point Theta
“Telemetry remains nominal. No gravitational anomalies detected. Pulse periodicity remains fixed at 1.46 seconds, originating from sector JX-914. No observable mass displacement, no heat signatures, no electromagnetic interference, though the raw energy this anomaly produces has seemingly only gotten more intense.
Conclusion: The source of the phenomenon remains unaccounted for. Continuing analysis.”
Personal Note: The disappearance of Monroe still haunts me; it has also prompted me to take her worries more seriously…I wish I had. I miss her.
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The artificial shadow of a spacecraft interior, faintly illuminated by the icy glow of status monitors, weighed heavily on Dr. Ray Godfrey as he opened his eyes.
His mind was slow, a result of the sedatives used for long-term cryosleep, but his breathing was calm and controlled.
He flexed his fingers. Tough, but expected. Still, the body continued to rebel against its own survival even after a full year away from Earth. However, this was what Erebus-1 was built for. As was he.
At that moment, a chime filled the cabin:
Cryosleep cycle completed. Core systems nominal. Stabilizing life support.
As the words scrolled across the roof of the cryopod, his eyes darted across the data feeds:
• CO₂ scrubbers operational.
• Radiation shielding holding at 99.3%.
• Fusion reactor output stable.
No surprises there.
He reached for the harness securing him to the cryopod, wincing as blood rushed sluggishly through his limbs. His body felt alien, caught between stasis and now.
With a practiced motion, he released the restraints and crawled out of the cryopod.
Instinctively, he checked the windows: beyond the reinforced portholes, there was nothing. No planets. No moons. Not even the faint silhouettes of ships.
Stumbling away from the portholes, Ray found himself in front of the console located a bit away from the cryopod in the ship’s hull. He pressed down on the transmission key, sending an update to HQ.
“Erebus-1, reporting wake cycle complete. Crew is to be accounted for. Resuming research on Origin Point Theta.”
A response would take days. He moved on.
New London, 2122—Before Departure
Electric lamps hummed softly as their light flickered across the walls. Papers sprawled across the mahogany desk, their edges curling with static ink. A holographic interface hovered beside them, equations blinking in pale blue, half-solved, though not abandoned.
In his study, Ray muttered, half-speaking, half-thinking aloud:
“No, no…a rounding error—ah, but the coefficient resists—” he swiped at the interface, dismissing a failed derivation. Rubbing his face, he let out a sharp sigh. “Damn it. Again.”
His gaze flickered across the data streams, hands tapping against his arm.
“Two-point-nine-seven times ten to the eighth…constant, unwavering. And yet—” he frowned, eyes narrowing. “All things decay, save light itself. But why?”
His hand tightened around his somewhat rugged stylus.
“A foolish thought. The universe does not yield so easily.” And yet, the thought lingered, like an itch—
“Ray?” A woman’s voice called from behind him.
He didn’t turn at first.
“Ray, love, it’s past noon.” The voice was soft and patient.
He let out another sigh, turning left to find Thomason standing in the doorway, her hands folded neatly, and her bright green eyes watching him with the kind of knowing gaze that came from years of marriage.
“Just a moment,” muttered Ray.
“No, now. You’ve been at this since morning,” she retorted. “Come along, before the soup gets cold.”
Ray lingered and took one last glance at the data stream—but she was waiting, and so, reluctantly, he dismissed the projection.
He turned to her with a soft smile. Thomason smiled back, warm and gentle, and linked her arm with his.
“I swear, one of these days, I’ll have to lock you out this room.”
They walked the carpeted hall—Ray with a confident stride, and Thomason with a smooth glide—and down the staircase together, their steps soft against the old flooring. Beyond the window, the city’s artificial sky pulsed with the faint shimmer of the weather dome, a vast Chronos Corp. Biosphere filtering the midday light over the high-rises of New London. The Chronos logo, subtle but omnipresent, gleamed on the surfaces of the tallest towers.
“The reports say the fighting in the East has worsened,” she murmured, her thumb nervously rubbing against her fingers, “more deployments….”
Yet after a pause, her tone lightened. “I wonder how mother fares these days.”
Ray glanced down at her restless hands, then clasped one gently.
“No cause for worry, dear; you know she’s tough.”
Thomason looked from her hand to Ray, and smiled softly. “Yeah…you’re right.”
With that, they entered the kitchen:
The space had never been about appearances. No polished marble countertops, no sleek, modern features—that by now were seen as essential for comfortable living—save the induction stove and a few upgraded appliances. Just warm wooden cabinets, a sturdy farmhouse sink, and the old chipped ceramic mugs Thomason had sworn had “character.”
The savory scent of simmering broth drifted through the kitchen as Thomason moved with ease, ladling a portion into a ceramic bowl. From the far right side of the kitchen, the kettle chimed softly.
Ray took his seat at the kitchen table, its surface worn by years of absentminded tapping. He adjusted his sleeves as he settled in.
Thomason placed the bowl before him, followed by a cup of freshly brewed tea, which Ray wasted no time in draining.
Folding her arms, Thomason watched as he drank. A smile ghosted over her lips, though a faint crease lined her brow.
“You could’ve asked me for a cup earlier, you know.”
Ray set the empty cup down with a quiet clink, exhaling contentedly.
“Indeed, I could have.”
Thomason shook her head, half amused.
“You’d starve up there if I let you.” She placed a spoon beside his bowl and took her seat. “Eat.”
Ray obliged, though his mind, ever restless, still lingered in the study, somewhere among the numbers.
Thomason set down her spoon, fingers resting lightly against the rim of her bowl. “I know your work is important,” she said. “Your…science group—”
“The Astronomical Standards Authority,” Ray corrected with a matter-of-fact tone.
She waved a hand. “Yes, yes, that. But I swear, you vanish into that study for days, chasing something invisible. Even at night, I hear you pacing.”
Ray leaned back, setting his spoon down as well. “There are problems in this world—problems that don’t yield easily, but yield they must.” He glanced at the window, where the light beamed. “If a question presents itself, it is my duty to answer it.”
Thomason held his gaze for a moment before sighing, shaking her head with a tired smile. “And what of questions that have no answer?”
Ray’s lips quirked, just slightly. “All things yield, eventually.”
Morning light crept through the curtains of their bedroom, casting soft shadows across the wooden floor. Ray stood before the mirror, adjusting his suit jacket and smoothing his shirt with practiced precision.
On his bedside terminal, the message delivered by the ASA in the late hours of the previous night remained displayed in crisp text:
“Dr. Ray Godfrey, your immediate presence is requested at the Astronomical Standards Authority headquarters. A new intern has been assigned to your division. As the preeminent expert in our station, your guidance is indispensable. Report forthwith.
—Dr. James Albright”
A subtle thrill sparked in Ray as he tapped the screen, scrolling through the message once more as if to commit every word to memory.
With his tie now knotted, Ray moved to the window, his gaze lingering on the controlled bustle of the domed city.
Then, with a flickering glance at the meticulously arranged room, his eyes landed on what was his only non-technological object: resting upon the shelf mounted to the left wall of their bedroom was a small wooden elk.
His chest tightened, and with that, he gathered his belongings and descended the stairs.
In the kitchen, the aroma of bacon mingled with freshly brewed tea filled his nose. Moving from the kitchen, Thomason stepped into the living room and placed a plate of food on the small coffee table at its center. “Are you off now?” she asked, as she carefully sat down on the couch.
Ray sat beside Thomason. “Yes—a new intern has been assigned to my division. I am to provide guidance,” he answered as he sipped his tea, quickly beginning to eat.
Thomason nodded as she picked up the TV remote and put on “Are You a Cook, Or Crook?”, resting her head lightly on her hand. “Remember that not everyone can hold a conversation like some over-the-top genius.”
“Indeed, though you never know—maybe they might just surprise me,” Ray remarked with a slight smile, taking another bite of his breakfast.
After a pause, Thomason murmured, almost absentmindedly, “Lately, I've had the strangest feeling in my stomach.”
Ray looked up. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know exactly—but it’s a vague feeling; I guess it’s like when you feel anxious,” she said, hesitating.
Ray set his plate aside and looked for a reason. “Maybe…a minor fluctuation in ambient pressure,” Ray offered. “The dome’s regulation is efficient, yet not entirely flawless.”
Thomason exhaled softly, looking down at the table for a moment. “You always have an explanation ready.”
Ray offered a faint smile, then rose from the couch. “Well, I must be off now. Love you, dear.” He leaned in to kiss her.
Thomason returned the kiss and squeezed his hand gently. “Don’t be out too long.”
Dusting himself off a final time, Ray stepped toward the front door, then turned back to Thomason, adding, “I shall return before you miss me—give or take a year.”
With that, he opened the door and departed.
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Mission Log – Sol 9
Designation: Erebus-1
Commander: Dr. Ray Godfrey
Location: Interstellar Void, en route to Origin Point Theta
“Telemetry remains nominal. Vessel trajectory stable; all onboard systems functioning within expected parameters. Pulse periodicity—previously unwavering at 1.46 seconds—ceased entirely for a duration of exactly two hours before resuming without explanation. No detectable external interference. No gravitational shifts, no anomalies in reactor output or shielding integrity. And yet, for two hours, it was gone.
Conclusion: The source remains unaccounted for.
Personal Note: The instruments recorded nothing unusual during the silence. No deviations, no disruptions—only absence. And yet, I felt it. A gap where something should have been. A space carved out of time itself. And now that it has returned, it feels…different, as though it has noticed me in turn. It does not press upon the hull, nor stir the vacuum, yet in the pit of my stomach, I sense it growing.
In the silence between pulses, I thought I heard a faint…rumbling, but the instruments showed nothing.”
