I was only 22 when we departed. “The longest journey in human history,” they said.
It was extremely difficult to be selected for the Seeder Project. I spent years preparing for it. I chose the right classes and learned everything I needed, but the number of applicants was staggering. The competition was brutal.
In the end, being selected was a combination of doing the right things and a little bit of luck.
Aboard Helios, I was assigned to the communications unit in the Navigation Arc. Back then, we just called it the Command Division.
At the beginning, we received a daily communication package. You have to understand what that meant to those who left loved ones on Earth.
Every day, a new package would arrive with mission-related information, but it also included news and personal messages. It was what everyone really waited for.
After a couple of years, the packages were sent weekly. Then they moved to a monthly schedule.
To keep communications efficient, Earth established a lottery system for personal messages.
Only five personal messages per package. If you were a lucky recipient, your name was added to another lottery held on Helios. For us, sending a reply was costlier, so only two people could respond.
When I turned 50, messages already took about six months to arrive and another six months for our replies to return to Earth.
I remember that year clearly because I was one of the lucky ones who received a message. It was from my brother. He used the expensive deep-space channel to let me know that I was getting old.
I miss him.
That was the last time I received a message. A couple of years later, personal messages were removed from the packages.
Everyone knew it would get worse every year. We had a joke in the communications unit. Our job would be the first to become obsolete aboard Helios.
I was 86 when we received the bad news that Ra had been canceled. The Seeder 3 vessel would never depart.
After that, we only received three more messages from Earth.
From previous packages, we already knew about the social and political changes happening on Earth, but we could never have imagined how far they would go.
The last two messages arrived only months apart. It would take two years to get an answer to either one. That kind of waiting takes a toll no one anticipated.
“Evaluate your options to change your trajectory and immediately map the area for rogue planetary objects.”
We were still debating how to respond when the last message arrived.
“The Seeder Project has been canceled. Central Command will shut down its operations next month.”
How do you recover from something like that? How do you respond?
I have lived most of my life in space. Helios is my home, but I’m an Earthling. People expected someone like me to support returning to Earth. But we did not.
Unexpectedly, the strongest calls to turn back came from those born on Helios.
It started as small protests. Then strikes. One day, almost half of the crew did not show up at their posts.
That day, a group gathered outside the communication room in the Work Ring. A dozen at first. Then it grew to about 30 people.
The Captain called an emergency meeting with the three members of the Council.
Under the original structure, one member was elected among all the people. The second member was the Director of the Data and Information Office. The third was me, a rotating member representing the elders.
During the meeting, the elected member suggested sending the Regulation Bureau to guard the communications room. Director Sullivan disagreed. She argued that it would escalate the issue even further. I agreed with her.
Captain Acosta sent them anyway. All six were armed with their stun canes and pneumatic pistols.
The weapons were never meant to kill anyone. They were designed to incapacitate, to avoid damaging the ship.
Director Sullivan oversaw the Data Integrity Unit, the other armed group aboard Helios. She dispatched them as intermediaries, hoping to de-escalate the situation.
The protesters filled the corridor with calls to turn back, to abandon the mission and return to Earth.
The Regulation Bureau approached from one side, trying to protect the entrance to the communication room.
Another crowd had formed. They advanced from the other side, voices rising.
“We go forward. It is our destiny!”
They carried blue banners and chanted pro-mission slogans, as if volume alone could hold the ship together.
The Data Integrity officers were stationed between the two groups.
The entire confrontation was transmitted to the Council chamber.
What followed would be remembered as the darkest day in the history of Helios: the Incident. The first time violence overtook reason aboard.
“This is a good place to stop,” said Instructor Mendez. “We still have some time for questions. Anyone?”
The silence in the classroom turned into a commotion. Multiple hands shot up. Kyla almost jumped out of her seat. Nia was already waving.
“Miss Brooks,” he said, pointing at Nia.
“Did we have enough fuel to return to Earth?”
“A ship like Helios is designed to burn almost all its fuel at the beginning of the mission,” Instructor Mendez replied. “I’m not an expert in propulsion, but when we received the message, returning was impossible. Even if fuel had not been an issue, going back to Earth would have taken centuries.”
“Next week we’ll have the First Officer visiting the class.” Instructor Mendez paused. “This would be an excellent question to ask.”
Several hands were still raised.
“Mr. Darrow,” he said, pointing at Julian.
“What’s the name of the story? Can we continue reading it?” Julian asked.
“Of course. It’s called ‘2338: How We Got Here,’ by Henry Solariam,” Instructor Mendez said. “You can ask your Logminter. It’s part of the content library.”
A beep interrupted, signaling the lunch break.
“After the break, I’ll have a surprise for you,” he said louder as the students prepared to leave for lunch.
Kyla waited for Darius until he finished organizing his desk. She leaned closer, lowering her voice.
“I can’t believe Julian wasted a question on something so trivial… He is a showoff.”
“You love the guy,” Darius replied.
Kyla dismissed the comment. “I didn’t get to ask my question. I don’t understand why anyone would want to go back.”
“I don’t know,” Darius said. “Maybe they were scared.”
“Scared of what?” Kyla said. “We have everything we need on Helios.”
Darius said nothing as they walked down the corridor.
“What do you think the surprise will be?” Kyla asked.
“Knowing Instructor Mendez, it’s probably a project, an assignment, or a competition. Something along those lines,” Darius said.
“I hope it’s not another writing competition,” Kyla said.
“Me too. You get obsessed with those. It’s like you’re a different person.”
“No, I don’t,” Kyla said. “Come on, let’s hurry. Taro and Nia are probably waiting for us.”
They quickened their pace to join them.
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Thanks for reading Kyla’s Diary, a novel from the Theogenic Universe. New chapters will be published weekly. Subscribe to continue the journey aboard Helios.