To anyone who is receiving this transmission: my name is Robert Julius Clarke, and I am Captain of the USS Horizon. I am an American citizen and serve under the jurisdiction of the Office of Interstellar Exploration, which is a subsidiary of the Earth Spacing Institute. And I am adrift among the stars.
As the Institute’s flagship, the Horizon is often given the privilege of making the initial foray into unexplored territory. In my capacity as Captain, I have made first contact with alien races both friendly and hostile. I have witnessed triumph and tragedy, found and lost dear friends, and stared deeper into the icy blackness of space than anyone who came before me. I have lived a life worth living. But I am not yet ready to die.
It was not my decision to send the Horizon into this uncharted sector of space, but I followed my orders, as I have done since my days as a cadet. I took no pleasure in receiving them from Fleet Captain Rothman – an arrogant but highly skilled individual who has once served as my own XO – but it was not place to question his decision. As my superior, Rothman was entitled to command my ship and I to whatever corner of space he liked, regardless of my opinion. Resigned to obeying the order, I staffed the ship with my usual crew, including Science Officer Nadine Harrington, Chief Petty Officer Reese Forrest, and Chief of Security Irwin Burrell. For my Executive Officer, I selected recently promoted Captain Richard Washburn, an intelligent young man who still needed one or two missions as a number two before taking command of his own ship. As navigator, I selected my wife, Rana – the Venusian woman, last of her people, who had escaped with me from her homeworld years ago. We set out from the TVC-15 satellite near Earth and charted a course to this unexplored region.
I was told that our mission was to investigate unusual electromagnetic activity eliminating from a small moon. It struck me as unusual that we would be sent out so far into space for such a routine exercise – especially given what had happened the last time Rothman and I had investigated a similar phenomenon. Still, I continued, once more refusing to ask critical questions – questions which might have averted the impending tragedy.
Our investigation uncovered a hidden base constructed by an unknown race of creatures. It was broadcasting an untranslatable message deep into space. Even Rana with her telepathic abilities could not decipher the intent of its sender. Under Section 47-B of the Institute’s charter, it was my decision as Captain to choose whether or not to initiate contact with the extraterrestrials. I chose not to and began to turn the Horizon back toward Earth.
We were unprepared for the swiftness or the ferocity of the attack. The alien ship seemed to come out of nowhere. It was an enormous vessel, composed of an unknown material and equipped with a devastating array of weapons the likes of which no human had ever seen before. It became clear immediately that we had no hope of surviving a firefight. I ordered a general evacuation. I was last off the bridge, not out of duty, but out of reluctance to leave behind this ship that I had come to think of as a friend.
I had arranged to meet my wife in Escape Pod D, but when it became apparent that reaching that section of the ship would be impossible, I ordered her to launch and made my way to the only remaining shuttle – Escape Pod X. I launched at the last possible moment. I do not know if anyone was left aboard.
The Horizon was destroyed before my very eyes, engulfed in a ball of flame that quickly burnt out in the vacuum of space, leaving only the husk of a once-proud vessel in its wake. Debris was launched into space, and Escape Pod X was not fortunate enough to avoid it. There was a collision, and my shuttle was sent spiraling into the abyss.
Escape Pod X is a large vessel, and well stocked with supplies. Physically, I should be able to survive on her indefinitely. However, the engines are inoperative and the prospects of rescue are not inspiring. Humanity has once attempted to enter this territory, and was met with violent resistance. We may well have provoked a powerful race, and the consequences may be grave. For the foreseeable future, the Institute will have greater concerns than the survival of one Captain. They will attempt no search without being given a reason to believe I am alive. I must give them that reason.
For nearly two weeks, I have been making short-form transmissions on an isolated channel in the hope that someone might discover me. I have received three garbled replies – two from petty officers, and one from Captain Washburn. Attempts to reestablish communication with all three have failed. I also have attempted two prior long-form transmissions, with mixed results. Using a space suit I found in the hold and the ship’s standard tool kit, I was able to repair an external transmitter, and am now capable of stable long-term text communications, which I will do at regular intervals. Restoring audio transmission capabilities is my next priority. I will begin repairs on the system soon.
For now, though, I am alone, drifting through space, the weight of a vast, empty universe bearing down on me. If there is anyone out there picking up this transmission, please respond on this channel. I will be waiting.
