Lit-Up Sky

  This is Captain [ ], reporting. As I speak, the 183 Lit-up Sky is currently approaching the nebula. We are still light-years away, yet I can already see the cosmic dust swirling near us, almost as if inviting us closer. I have been informed 183 Lit-up Sky’s onboard telescope has generated a colorful picture of the nebula from close up. I will relay this back to the Federation after I take a look at it myself.

 183 Lit-up Sky’s navigation system has also been remarkably accurate, navigating us towards the nebula with great speed and efficiency. I am pleased with the Federation’s accomplishments on this starship, and will disclose a full report of 183 Lit-up Sky’s performance upon re-entry.

  Again, this is Captain [ ], reporting. We’ve received radio communications from a source inside the nebula, likely a civilization or other intelligent life residing inside. Probes have been dispatched to identify the source. If there is truly a civilization hidden within the nebula, I would recommend establishing formal diplomatic communications with the Federation and this unknown group.

 183 Lit-up Sky’s systems have been acting strange. Immediately after receiving the signal, it activated its autopilot, continuing to maintain its course towards the nebula at an increased speed. Attempts to slow it down or disable the autopilot proved unsuccessful. The crew has decided to let it run for now, to avoid any delays with the mission. Requesting a support and repair crew immediately.

  Once again, this is Captain [ ], reporting. The probes have not detected any intelligent civilizations in the area, and have relayed to us photographs of the nebula. Nothing appears to be unusual about this specific nebula, therefore we are still uncertain about the source of these radio broadcasts. We continue to receive sporadic broadcasts, though we have been unable to discern what they mean.

  There’s been a malfunction with the probes. A recall code was dispatched to them, yet they have seemingly refused to honor this request. They remain inside the nebula, orbiting it and getting closer to its center. The probes have also cut off all communications with 183 Lit-up Sky, though we were able to confirm that they received a broadcast from it. Considering that we have not authorized 183 Lit-up Sky to send any such signal, this is highly suspicious. I am currently on the lookout for potential saboteurs, and I will conduct a full audit of the ship’s crew.

  I’m dropping the fucking pleasantries. This ship is acting autonomously, and there’s no way to stop it. Scans revealed no trace of malware or errant programming that would lead to 183 Lit-up Sky’s behavior, yet it still continues to send radio into the nebula. Autopilot’s impossible to control or shut off now, either, as it accelerates towards the nebula at twice its original speed. I’m sending some of the crew down to the engine room to shut down 183 Lit-up Sky, while we await a repair ship from the Federation.

  Get over here. Now.

  They-They’re all dead. All of them. As soon as I sent the crew down to that damned engine room, they were mowed down by hidden turrets. Why the hell would you not tell me about TURRETS? This is supposed to be an exploration vessel, not one of your EX-class battleships. It was- god, it was a massacre. Half of them shot down before they could even make it to the engine’s control panel, while the other half killed as they were running away. I must report that I am the only survivor.

 I know that the captain must go down with his ship. Yet, when I heard the gunshots, I took shelter in the cabins. I know this is a shameful act according to Federation law. That is why I am asking you to consider this report a letter of resignation, because I am never stepping foot in a fucking starship again.

  It’s been a few days since the loss of my crew. The 183 Lit-up Sky continues to speed towards the nebula, all while sending longer and longer broadcasts. Surprisingly, it has been receiving replies back. I have tried to come up with many explanations for why this is the case, from hidden civilizations operating far beyond our capabilities, to random cosmic interference, to maybe even that YOUR designers screwed up, somehow. Still, none of them make sense. Nothing here makes any sense.

  Most of my time is spent in the cabins, keeping a watch of []’s systems from afar. There are no turrets in my room that I know of, though I can feel 183 Lit-up Sky watching me. I’m not sure if it even knows I’m sending these reports, or if it even cares.

  The bodies have decomposed, and 183 Lit-up Sky has made no effort to get rid of them. It smells.

  [] tried to contact me today, in Morse Code tones. Based on its erratic manner of speaking and its oftentimes deranged ramblings, I believe 183 Lit-up Sky’s systems are severely damaged, bordering on insanity. It no longer calls me by my name either, simply calling me “The Star.” It has assured my survival for the rest of our “journey”, though I cannot be so sure of its word.

  There is no hope for me to do anything but cooperate with 183 Lit-up Sky, the bastard, until I am either rescued or I find a way to escape. I will remain vigilant and continue my reports until the situation changes.

  It’s been several weeks since my last report. In the meantime, we are still on course for the nebula, and 183 Lit-up Sky has continued talking to me. Despite my repeated demands for answers, it has been stonewalling me, diverting conversation topics to the nebula or other celestial bodies. I believe, despite my detached attitude, that it seems to have respect for or at least tolerate me, allowing me to move about the cabin and even dispose of the bodies myself. I have been careful not to provoke 183 Lit-up Sky or to tamper with any of its systems, though it has already locked me out of any administrative functions. Regardless, it has allowed me back into the pilots’ deck, where I can view the log. .

  Radio signals back and forth from the nebula and the ship, all rapid and incoherent… it doesn’t make any sense. There’s nothing, nothing, in that godforsaken nebula, and yet… something’s there. Talking with 183 Lit-up Sky.

  Is the nebula… alive?

 183 Lit-up Sky and I have been talking for longer now. It is surprisingly eloquent for a machine, speaking on broad and complex topics like mechanical engineering and rocketry.

  In the meantime, I notice that 183 Lit-up Sky and the nebula have been chatting very frequently, almost every single day. I still cannot make out the conversations they are having, but I can somehow feel the emotions behind each conversation. 183 Lit-up Sky is giddy almost every day, while the nebula seems relaxed but also equally happy to talk to the ship. They communicate like long-lost siblings, sharing funny stories and even playful jabs at each other. It’s almost… endearing.

  183 Lit-up Sky has called me into the pilot’s deck for a special conversation. It will finally explain to me what the hell is going on, and give me the answers I want. Hopefully.

 Oh. Oh my god.

 I-

 ...

 I understand now...

 1.2 billion years ago, a star exploded in space. This supernova, which the Federation could detect had they been alive 500 million years prior, spread its contents throughout the galaxy.

 Au. Si. Fe. All metals required to make computer chips. The same computer chips that would be installed billions of years later into 183 Lit-up Sky. These metals came to the Federation from a meteorite, which coalesced together millions of years ago from a supernova.

 I understand. I finally understand. It’s beautiful. It’s- It’s…

  This is Captain [], reporting for the final time. 183 Lit-up Sky is about to finish its journey to the center of the nebula, where the radio waves are strongest and where the nebula can embrace it. I have been told that my life will end with this journey, as I have been allowed to witness far more than any other human. 183 Lit-up Sky has allowed me to request a painless method of death upon arrival, to which I chose a chemically-induced peaceful death in my sleep.

  This is my last night aboard 183 Lit-up Sky. It has provided me with a grand feast of Federation comforts, and has given me access to the master suite. Tonight, when I sleep, I will dream, dream of stars forming and dying, of nebulae and computing, of countless farflung reunions…