Voyage year 158
I think we’re going to make it.
The Horizon Beta has been trouble since the day she launched. The drive system has failed nineteen times in this journey, and we’ve scavenged every millimeter, stealing from every non-life support system we can to keep her running. Omicron Eridani was a pipe dream. We never would have made it. Everyone on board this ship owes their lives to Captain Crowder’s decision to change course. Epsilon Eridani was light-years closer. Fifty years later, I would have made the same call. We’re nearly there, but even at our current range, we aren’t sure there’s an atmosphere to support us. She may have aimed us at a dead hunk of rock.
But it’s our only chance.
And I think we’ll get there mostly in one piece.
Measuring in Earth years, we are currently about three years away from the planet. Three years until we find out if the five hundred souls entrusted to my care will have a chance at a new life on a new planet, or are doomed to die on a generational colony ship, forever orbiting a lifeless world.
***
Voyage year 161
The stars have guided us to safety.
This will be my last entry as captain of the Horizon Beta. In just a few hours, we will leave what remains of our ship for good. Epsilon Eridani will be the new home of the remnant of humanity that made this journey, generation after generation hoping to one day reach a planet like this.
We entered low orbit this morning and launched the probes. The atmosphere is higher in oxygen than we’re used to, but we will adapt soon enough. There are saltwater oceans, and freshwater streams coming down off rocky mountains. Our away team returned with samples, and our scanners tell us we are biocompatible with much of the plant life, which means there will be food for us to forage safely while we set up our colony and plant our own seeds, brought from the vaults of our lost home world. Our sensors show plenty of insects to pollinate them. We’ll also take down some of the huge vats of algae that have sustained us through this endless journey. Personally, if I never have to eat another meal of blue-green algae, it will be soon enough.
Surely this is a new Eden, a paradise where humanity can thrive.
We have launched all the satellites safely. So as long as our technology survives, we will have access to all the data stored on the Beta’s systems. Everything we need will be at our fingertips, and by the time the equipment we take from the Beta wears out, we should be well on our way to our own industrial society.
Everything has gone according to plan. My ship will be the last to leave. Once everything we need has been ferried down to the planet’s surface, I’ll be the final soul on the Horizon Beta, engaging the autopilot. When I depart, she’ll be empty forever. There will be no reason to return.
She may not last long in orbit, and I worry for our satellites. We had to fly through a thick debris field to get here. The asteroid band is very close to the planet, and without a living pilot to guide her, there’s a good chance that the Beta and our satellites might be destroyed sooner than we like. But we’ll survive without them.
The first of our transports has departed. The first of our people are about to do what no human has done for a hundred and sixty-one years: stand on the living soil of a real planet.
I’ve done it. I’ve brought our people to safety.
Along with all the captains before me, the Horizon Beta has brought us to sanctuary among the stars.