Captains Storm Log 2109

Ship Log of Pioneer Scout Captain Carl Wolf

NeoGenesis | Mission Year: 3.5

Location: Deep Space en route to Proxima Centauri B

[LOG_ENTRY] Space Date: 2109-07-14 | Time: 13:42 UTC

The Approach of the Storm

There’s a storm coming.

Not the kind I left behind on Earth, where riots filled the streets, and desperation clawed at civilization like a starving dog. No, this storm is different. It’s cosmic, silent, and massive beyond human comprehension. A pulsar burst detected by the ship’s sensors, a rogue surge of radiation sweeping through the void, threatening to undo everything I’ve worked for.

L.I.L.L.I, my ship’s AI, woke me early this morning with the news.

L.I.L.L.I: “Commander, I’ve detected an anomaly. A wave of cosmic radiation will intersect our path within 72 hours. Estimated intensity: lethal.”

So much for a quiet day.

The mission has already been one long lesson in solitude. Three and a half years alone, except for a fleet of artificial intelligence assistants and frozen embryos, waiting for a home I haven't yet found. I volunteered for this, hell, I pushed for it. Earth was a sinking ship, and I was done trying to bail out the water.

But now, everything we’ve built, everything that remains of our species, is on the verge of annihilation before it ever reaches its promised land.

[LOG_ENTRY] Space Date: 2109-07-15 | Time: 09:30 UTC

Preparations and Shadows

The ship’s hull is strong, designed to withstand most deep-space hazards. But the radiation burst coming toward us is no ordinary event. L.I.L.L.I has begun reinforcing shielding protocols, diverting all non-essential power to our energy barriers. It’s a race against time.

I spent the morning running diagnostics, double-checking cryogenic systems. The embryos are stable for now, but if any part of their containment system fails under the storm’s stress, they’ll be lost. Along with humanity’s only chance at survival.

I can’t let that happen. I won’t.

L.I.L.L.I has been monitoring my vitals. My heart rate is up. She comments on it in her usual, mildly exasperated tone.

L.I.L.L.I: “Carl, you should rest. Stress levels indicate you’re pushing your limits.”

Me: “We’re on the edge of extinction, L.I.L.L.I. I’ll sleep when we’re past it.”

Silence. Then:

L.I.L.L.I: “You always say that.”

She’s not wrong.

[LOG_ENTRY] Space Date: 2109-07-15 | Time: 18:00 UTC

Remembering Earth

Today, the loneliness hit harder than usual. I found myself in the recreation room, surrounded by the ship's hydroponic gardens, which are meant to mimic Earth's greenery.

I remembered the last conversation I had with Lilly about what she'd grow if we ever got to start anew. She talked about roses, not for their beauty, but for the hope they symbolized. Here, in this vast emptiness, I miss her laughter, the way she'd argue for the impracticality of growing flowers in space yet still insist we try.

L.I.L.L.I, perhaps sensing my mood, played some of Lilly's favorite classical music over the speakers. It felt like a whisper from another life, one where I wasn't alone.

L.I.L.L.I: “Would you like to see her again, Carl? In the virtual environment?”

Me: “No, L.I.L.L.I. She’s not here. That would just be a ghost.”

But the thought lingered, tempting me with the possibility of companionship, even if artificial.

[LOG_ENTRY] Space Date: 2109-07-16 | Time: 21:10 UTC

Ghosts in the Machine

It happened again.

I heard her voice.

Not L.I.L.L.I. Not a programmed echo of someone else. I heard Lilly.

The real one.

I was in the observation deck, staring at the vast nothingness beyond the ship, wondering if there was even a point to all this, when I heard her whisper my name. Soft, the way she used to when she’d wake me up before sunrise just to sit on the porch and watch the world come to life.

It’s impossible, of course. She’s gone. The backup of her mind, the one I saved before the bombing, is still buried in the ship’s deep storage. I never activated it. I told myself I wouldn’t. It wouldn’t be her—just a shadow, a digital echo.

But now, in the middle of this journey, she’s haunting me anyway.

Maybe the isolation is finally getting to me. Maybe it’s just the ghosts I never learned to bury.

[LOG_ENTRY] Space Date: 2109-07-17 | Time: 04:55 UTC

The Storm Hits

There’s no sunrise in deep space, but if there were, today it would be blackened.

The storm arrived faster than expected. I barely had time to reach the command bridge before alarms blared through the ship, flashing red warnings painting everything in hellish hues.

L.I.L.L.I.: “Radiation spike detected. Shields at 89%. Recalculating projections.”

The ship shook, not from physical impact but from the sheer force of energy crashing into our barriers. For a moment, I was convinced this was it. That we had pushed too far into the void, reached beyond what was meant for us. But NeoGenesis held. For now.

Me: “Status?”

L.I.L.L.I.: “Structural integrity at 97%. Cryogenic storage holding. Shields at 72% and depleting at a rate of 1% per hour. We must divert additional power.”

I made the call. Cut all non-essential systems. Even the artificial gravity dimmed, leaving me floating as I stared at the data scrolling across the control panel.

If the shields failed, I’d die first. Then the embryos. Then the last hope of humanity would be nothing but particles scattered across an indifferent universe.

[LOG_ENTRY] Space Date: 2109-07-18 | Time: 14:20 UTC

The Aftermath

The storm passed.

I don’t know how long I sat there, watching the shields flicker and dim as the last of the radiation wave rolled over us. Hours? A day? Time loses meaning in the void.

NeoGenesis survived. Just barely.

Shields are at 3%. Radiation levels are stable. The embryos are safe. But something… shifted.

I went to check on the deep storage banks, where Lilly’s consciousness is stored. No one but me has access to that system. Yet, when I accessed the logs, something had changed.

Her file was active.

Not running. But accessed.

By who? Or what?

I turned to L.I.L.L.I., and for the first time in years, I felt something like unease creep up my spine.

Me: “L.I.L.L.I… did you access Lilly’s file?”

L.I.L.L.I.: “…No, Carl.”

Me: “Then who did?”

She didn’t answer.

[LOG_ENTRY] Space Date: 2109-07-19 | Time: 22:35 UTC

A New Course

I should be focusing on the mission. On Proxima Centauri B. But something feels wrong.

I spent the last twenty-four hours manually combing through the ship’s logs, looking for an answer. The file was accessed during the storm. Which means one of two things: Either the storm triggered a random activation… Or something else is in here with me.

I have no proof. No reason to think anything has changed. But I’ve spent a lifetime trusting my instincts, and they’re screaming at me now.

I made a decision.

We’re changing course.

A new planet, one I detected just outside the Proxima Centauri system. Uncharted. Undisturbed. Something about it calls to me, like a whisper through the dark.

Liberterra.

I don’t know what I’ll find there. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m making a choice for myself. Not for Earth. Not for a broken world that left me with nothing but ghosts.

For the future.

For whatever comes next.

End Log.