Mission One

Day One

The video feed flashed with static before settling in focus, showing a metal desk and chair inside a small, brightly lit room. The fluorescent lights bounced off the shiny metal walls, illuminating even the awkward space behind the red upholstered couch in the corner of the frame.

“Did you get it turned on?” A stern female voice beyond the sight of the camera asked.

“Yes, Sarge,” Another voice responded from out of frame. “I told you I’m not dumb.”

A body stepped into the view of the camera: a slim frame with curved hips covered in a gray jumpsuit. The woman sat down in the metal chair, resting her elbow on the desk and scratching the spot below her ear. The name Jennings was embroidered onto a patch on her right clavicle and a Specialist One patch on her left upper arm.

“Hello world,” she said to the camera. “Specialist One Jennings here, United States Space Force. I’m reco—”

“You have to say your full title,” The stern voice interrupted.

Specialist One Jennings turned in her seat to face off camera. “Do I really have to?”

“We’re under orders, Specialist One.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” Jennings turned back to the camera. “Specialist One Oriana Jennings, Omega Section, Astra Flight, First Space Battle Management Squadron, Delta Nine.” She glanced over at where, presumably, her sergeant is standing. “This is day one of our first real 2 mission up into space. Launch procedure went exactly as planned, and we are working our way toward Mars. We’re supposed to be watching for any extraterrestrial threats coming your way, Earth. So far, so good.”

“What’s all this?” A male voice from offscreen cut in.

“Sergeant Voight says we’re supposed to keep a mission log,” Jennings replied, tilting her head toward the camera. The man stepped into the frame, bending over to look where Jennings motioned. His nameplate reads Hollister.

“Ah, giving the easy job to the rookie, are we?” Hollister straightens and crosses his arms. A Specialist Four patch is sewn onto his upper sleeve.

“More like the exciting job,” Another female voice said from off-screen.

“You’ll get your time, Phoenix.” The sergeant replied. “But for now, you and Hollister need to let Jennings do her thing.” The two specialists grumble but follow orders. The sounds of a door opening and shutting cuts across the audio feed.

“I don’t really know what else to say,” Jennings continued. “We will continue on our current path to Mars, with plans to steer toward any oncoming danger. For now, this is Specialist One Jennings, signing off.” Jennings reached forward, and the camera feed cut out.

Day Eight

The video feed started with a shake as the camera settled. Specialist One Jennings was back in front of the camera, looking slightly worse for wear. A single piece of brown hair stuck out from her meticulous bun, and her jumpsuit was slightly wrinkled. The lights in the room were dimmed this time, as if the space station is simulating night.

“Specialist One Jennings, Omega Section, Astra Flight, First Space Battle Management Squadron, Delta Nine here reporting on day eight of our space defense mission. I realized yesterday that I haven’t broken down the details of the mission yet,” Jennings rubbed her palm across her eye. “Our Space Battle Management mission, the first of its kind, launched with our squadron made up of Astra Flight and Luna Flight, each with two sections. It’s a smaller squadron compared to others down on Earth, but the commanders wanted to keep the team as small as possible for this first mission. Less people means less supplies to pack, I suppose.”

Jennings seemed to forget about the camera after a moment, staring off camera. “It’s a weird feeling, being up here. There’s ten other people on this spacecraft and yet I’ve never felt so isolated and alone. It’ll be years before I see my family again, which is normal for most military deployments, but sometimes I wonder why I chose the Space Force.” Jennings seemed to remember she was recording an official video log for her commanders and straightened. She pulled a piece of paper out from a pocket in her jumpsuit and read from it.

“Technical Sergeant McAllister says we are exceeding expectations in regard to rationing food and fuel. We have plenty left in the tanks, with our waste in storage to convert into fuel later.” Jennings paused. “Did I read that right? I’m sitting in a poop-powered rocket?” She laughed and shook her head.

“Specialist One Cory Cooper of Alpha Section, under the supervision of Alpha’s Sergeant Chase Owens, has been tending to the greenhouse on board to keep us stocked with as much produce as we can manage.” Again, Jennings paused, before muttering to herself: “We have a greenhouse on board?” Another pause. “When was anyone going to tell me we had a

[CENSORED] greenhouse on board?”

Jennings looked at the camera. “This thing looks pretty portable. I’ll have to do some experimenting. For now, this is Specialist One Jennings, signing off.” Jennings reached forward, and the camera feed cut out.

Day Fifteen

The video feed sparked to life in a flash of green as the camera is turned to face Jennings sitting in front of a bed of plants. She propped the camera up on something out of frame, the feed settling as Jennings leaned back and nodded.

“Cool, cool, that works.” Jennings was sitting cross legged on what appeared to be packed dirt. “This is Specialist One Jennings, Omega Section, Astra Flight, First Space Battle Management Squadron, Delta Nine here, reporting to you on day fifteen live from the greenhouse!” She grinned and motioned to the lively plants behind her. “I’ve been spending quite a bit of time in here lately. It reminds me of being back home in Iowa, driving past acres of cornfields on my way to school.” Jennings lowered her arms, an emotion akin to grief filling her

face. “I took it for granted whenever I was at home. Now I wish I could see that again.” She stared off-screen for a few minutes before speaking again.

“We’re still slowly making progress toward Mars. Still no sign of any enemy ships. Still—”

“Jennings!” The specialist sat straight up and whipped her head to look off camera.

“What are you doing in here? Get back to the control room!” The video cut out, going black for a few minutes before Jennings appeared in the control room once again.

“You get the gist,” She sighed. “No new updates. The mission is going well so far. I’ll

keep you posted if it doesn’t. Over and out.” Jennings reached forward, and the camera feed cut out.

Day Twenty-Nine

The video feed opened with a crash as the camera falls from where it had been sitting. A female voice cussed from off-screen before the camera moved, seemingly being picked up. A woman with a dark black hair tightly French braided down her head is seated behind a large table covered in buttons, screens, and other technological devices. She propped the camera up haphazardly to her left, facing it toward herself. In the background was a large clear panel that

shows the vacuum of deep space.

“Specialist Four Arizona Conrad, Omega Section, Astra Flight, First Space Battle Management Squadron, Delta Nine here. Callsign Phoenix. You can call me Phoenix.” Phoenix flashed a wink at the camera before turning back to the vastness of space beyond the ship’s bridge. “Spec One Jennings is sick today, or so she says. I say recording a video is an easy

enough job to do while you lay in bed, but orders are orders.

“It’s day twenty-nine since launch. The mission is continuing on strongly, making good time toward Mars. We have yet see any other forms of life out here, but that’s to be expected to space. I’m not sure what our commanders are expecting us to find out here, honestly. Everyone knows aliens are just a made-up movie monster.” Phoenix grabbed the camera and turned it around. The whole feed is filled with the view of space, individual stars dotting the sky by the

billions, a red planet looming closer in the distance. The camera is turned back around to face Phoenix again.

“Pretty, right?” She smirked. “That’s my view all day. Nothing beats it.” Phoenix looked back at the window and sighed contentedly before turning back to the camera. “I think that’s enough for the day. Omega Spec Four, over and out.” Phoenix reached forward, and the camera feed cut out.

Day Thirty-Six

The video feed opened to a very stressed-out Specialist One Jennings, head in her hands with her elbows propped up on the desk. The lights in the control room were slightly dimmer, as if she hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on fully. A half-eaten sandwich sat abandoned at the edge of the frame.

“Specialist One Jennings, Omega Section, blah blah blah, you know the gist.” Jennings’ voice was muffled by her hands. She appeared to take a deep sigh before lifting her head to face the camera. “After thirty-five days of no sightings, we finally had an update today on day thirty-six. A few hours ago, a foreign object showed up on the ship’s radar, and we are now in range enough to see that it is in fact another spacecraft. And as far as we know, it’s not one of our own.

“The commanders told us before we launched that we were the first mission to be sent out here, and that they wouldn’t be sending out another until we had landed back on Earth. That leaves us with three options.” Jennings held up her pointer finger. “Option number one: the United States Space Force Commanders lied to us and did send out another ship after we launched.” Jennings held up two fingers. “Option number two: command somehow lost contact with our ship and its radar signals, leading them to believe we are dead, which caused them to

send out a retrieval ship.” Jennings held up a third finger. “Option number three: we have actually stumbled upon alien life out here, and we have no idea if they are hostile or friendly. We know absolutely nothing about them.

“Technical Sergeant McAllister is deciding whether to hail the ship or not at the time of this recording. As for right now, she has Phoenix steering us toward the ship. Phoenix says we’ll intercept them in a week at this speed.” Jennings steepled her fingers and closer her eyes, taking a deep breath. “I will continue to record updates, as that is my main objective. For now, this is Specialist One Jennings, signing off.” Jennings reached forward, fiddling with the buttons.

“I should’ve stayed on the farm.” She muttered as the camera feed cut out.

Day Forty-Two

The video feed blinked to life, revealing the bridge of the ship. Jennings was seated at a chair somewhere in the corner of the room, two metal walls intersecting behind her.

“Specialist One Jennings, Omega section, you get the gist.” Jennings said to the camera, sitting straight up in her chair. Her hair was pulled back tightly this time, not a hair out of place. There was even a hint of rouge on her cheeks, as if she had spent extra time making herself look presentable.

“Why are you doing this in here?” Phoenix yelled from off camera.

“Because I was in here and I’m trying to get it all out while it’s fresh in my mind!” Jennings yelled back, slamming her hands down on the table and shaking the camera. She cleared her throat and turned back to the camera. “As I was saying,” She shot a glare toward Phoenix. “We intercepted the other spaceship yesterday after sending some radio calls over. After Tech Sarge McAllister talked with them for a while, they sent over two people from their ship for a parlay today.”

“Is ‘people’ really the right word?” Phoenix interrupted.

“How am I supposed to know what to call them?”

“They’re aliens.”

“Fine,” Jennings rolled her eyes. “Two aliens came over for a parlay today, so we all had to be polished up and present on the bridge. They were humanoid, with green skin and large eyes, and a mouth with no lips. They had these thick tendrils for hair that kind of moved like snakes. It was an… interesting experience.”

“We were the first people to make contact with a species of people other than our own,” Another voice piped in from off-screen. A slender girl with mousy brown curls walked behind Jennings, typing away on a tablet.

“Spec Two Cruz is right,” Jennings nodded. “It was a huge development for our planet, but am I the only one who got a weird feeling about it?”

“Why, because they were green?”

“No, Phoenix,” Jennings glared off frame. “It’s not because they’re green. I could care less about how they look; I just got a weird feeling.”

“Don’t let the sarge hear you say that, or she’ll get on you about being ‘accepting’” Phoenix said.

Jennings hummed. “The aliens are supposed to keep coming over to our ship for the next few days in order to initiate communication between our two species and share knowledge. I will continue to keep track of the interaction.”

“I would hope so, that’s your job.”

“Phoenix, I swear I’m going to kill you—” Jennings grabbed the camera and the camera feed cut out.

Day Forty-Five

The video feed opened with a shake as Jennings seemed to hurriedly situate the camera on the table. She was back in the control room, looking a little less put together than she had in the last entry. Specialist Three Hollister was lounging on the red couch in the background, head tilted back and eyes closed.

“Spec One Jennings here,” Jennings opened hurriedly. Hollister lifted his head to look at the camera before leaning back and closing his eyes again. “This will be a quick update because I want to make sure they don’t somehow overhear.”

“They’re still on the bridge,” Hollister grumbled. “We don’t know anything about them,”

Jennings whipped her head around to chastise him. “We have no idea if what they’re telling us about their sense of hearing is true.”

Hollister shrugged.

Jennings shook her head and faced the camera again. “The aliens have been in talks with Tech Sarge McAllister for the last two days and I’m telling you; something is not right with those two. They’re not giving a straight answer to any question, they are giving us minimal details about their species, and they keep trying to get us to come over to their ship. Seems friendly right? But no, there’s something fishy going on. I can feel it. Even if no one else here does, I feel it.”

“I feel it too, Rookie,” Hollister piped in. “Everywhere they go they seem to be taking stock of weak points. In every conversation they seem to be taking in information with unfriendly intentions. McAllister is sure they’re friendly, and they haven’t done anything concrete to prove they aren’t, but something isn’t right with them.”

“I’m hoping we’re just being dramatic,” Jennings turned back to the camera, seemingly emboldened by Hollister’s agreement. “and that they are actually a friendly species. But the fact that they’re the ones keeping our ships tethered together and not us makes me a little concer—”

The sound of a door opening made Jennings pause. She and Hollister both whipped their heads toward the door, bolting up and standing at attention.

“This is our control room,” A female voice, likely the Technical Sergeant, said from off screen. A strange voice unintelligible to the camera’s microphone responded. Jennings reached over, not breaking eye contact with the aliens off-screen, and the camera feed cut out.

Day Forty-Seven

The video feed opened to a blur. Jennings was running, Specialist Two Cruz right behind her. The camera’s microphone picked up Hollister and Phoenix’s voices as well, likely right in front of Jennings.

“This way!” The voice of Omega section’s sergeant came from off-screen. “Spec One Jennings here,” Jennings managed to say between breaths. The video shook, Jennings doing her best to record and run at the same time.

“The aliens attacked McAllister on the bridge. She’s dead. They killed her.” The lights flashed above them. Spec Two Cruz narrowly stayed on her feet as they rounded a corner. “They brought three extra aliens with them today and ambushed us on the bridge. Omega and Alpha sections split up in the ship to hide. All five aliens are in here somewhere too, either devouring McAllister’s body or chasing after us.”

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” Phoenix snapped from off-screen. “This is my job!” Jennings snapped back. The group rounded another corner, the lights flickering again.

“They must be trying to cut the lights,” Cruz said.

“Smart mother[CENSORED],” Hollister cursed. “We need a plan!” Jennings huffed.

“We have a plan,” Phoenix replied. “Stay alive.” “That’s a horrible [CENSORED] plan!”

The lights flickered again before the screen went black. Jennings cursed colorfully before red emergency lights lit up the hallway they were still sprinting through.

“Right here!” Omega’s sergeant said, and Jennings turned. The group moved into a small room and shut the door. The sound of heavy things scraping against the floor cut across the microphone as Jennings pointed the camera and Phoenix and Hollister barricading the door. Jennings turned the camera back to herself.

“This thing is fully charged, thankfully. I’ll continue to update as the situation progresses.” Jennings reached for the camera. “If anyone is watching this… pray for us.”

The camera feed cut out.

Day Forty-Eight

The video feed opened to a dimly lit room, red emergency lights flashing overhead and

casting everything in a blood-red glow. Jennings was sitting cross-legged on the floor, with the rest of Omega section in the background behind her. Specialist Two Cruz was typing on a laptop plugged into the wall while Specialist Three Hollister and Specialist Four Phoenix talked over each other, looking very much like their conversation might become a fistfight.

“Jennings here,” There were deep shadows under Jennings’ eyes. “We’ve somehow made it twenty-four hours without the aliens finding us. Cause for celebration I suppose.”

“We need to track those [CENSORED] down and kill them!” Hollister said behind Jennings.

“What we need to do is get back to the bridge and blow their ship to [CENSORED] bits!” Phoenix fired back.

“Well, we can’t exactly do that if they’re still out there trying to kill us!”

Jennings sighed. “Cruz is trying to hack into the cameras so we can have a visual of the inside of the ship. We have no idea where the aliens are. We have no idea where Alpha section is. We’d have a better chance of survival if we worked together, so Sergeant Voight went to go find them. Alone.” Hollister and Phoenix bickered louder in the background.

“If we want a chance of surviving this, we need to go after those aliens.” Hollister fired.

“Do you really want to die out here in the middle of space?”

“Better we die killing all of them than let their ship go and kill everyone on Earth.” Phoenix replied.

Jennings reached forward and the camera feed cut out.

Day Forty-Eight, four hours later

The video feed opened to a very similar sight. Jennings was still on the floor, Hollister and Phoenix were still arguing, and Cruz was still typing on her laptop.

“Cruz got into the cameras,” Jennings told the camera with no introduction. “The aliens found Sergeant Voight and killed her. Alpha section was hiding out in the engine room and were also found by the aliens. We’re the only ones left alive.” “They’re moving in two groups,” Cruz said from behind Jennings, eyes roving across her screen. “I think they’re looking for us.”

“Great,” Jennings sighed.

“We’ll die if we go out there, Phoenix—” Hollister’s voice cut across the camera’s microphone.

“We’ll die if we stay in here without food and water, you dumb [CENSORED]!” Phoenix shoved Hollister into the wall with a scream of frustration.

“Hollister and Phoenix are trying to decide how to get us food and water so we can have a fighting chance at survival.” Jennings updated the camera, ignoring the two specialists nearly brawling behind her. “I’m resisting the urge to think about just how small our chance of survival is.”

“There’s a lot of factors that go into that calculation,” Cruz’s eyes flicked to Jennings, scanning her up and down. Jennings didn’t notice. She simply reached forward, and the camera feed cut out.

Day Forty-Eight, eight hours later

The video feed opened with the same small room and emergency lights flashing. Jennings was no longer sitting in front of the camera. Instead, she settled herself against the wall at the edge of the frame after pressing the record button. Cruz was still in the same position, hunched over her laptop. Hollister and Phoenix were noticeably absent.

“It’s quieter in here, if you can’t tell,” Jennings laughed to herself and looked at the camera. “Hollister and Phoenix finally decided to just go out there to try and get us food and water. They figured that the aliens wouldn’t be able to take down both of them together. They were wrong.”

Jennings leaned her head against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling. Cruz looked at her, then to the camera. “The aliens split off into two groups, one blocking the doors to the greenhouse and the other blocking the doors to the galley, effectively cutting us off from all food sources. They knew we’d need it eventually.”

“They killed Hollister and Phoenix on sight.” Jennings finished. “It’s down to the two of us, and it’s been thirty-six hours since we’ve had any food or water. At this point, they might just follow the sound of our stomachs and be able to find where we’re hiding, if they haven’t already.”

The room went quiet, the only sound on the video being Cruz’s occasional clicks on her laptop as she switched between camera feeds. It almost seemed like Jennings forgot about the video, but then she spoke.

“It’s laughable how quickly this all went to shit. A month and a half ago this was a shiny new spaceship with a bright-eyed crew.”

“Keep it together, Oriana,” Cruz looked at her gently.

“I don’t know what you want me to do!” Jennings threw up her hands. “We can only survive for maybe another two days without water, unless you want to start drinking our own piss! We have no contact back to Earth without going to the bridge, so we have no way to get a distress signal sent out, let alone enough time for a rescue ship to reach us!”

“I’m working on a plan,” Cruz snapped slightly, cutting through Jennings’ panic. “Just… let me think.”

Jennings scoffed, reached over, and the camera feed cut out.

Day Forty-Nine

The video feed was grainy when it opened, as if taken on a different camera than the previous recordings. Jennings appeared to be scrunched into a small crawlspace, slowly moving forward.

“We’re on the move,” Jennings seemed to be in higher spirits. “My other camera finally died, but Cruz was able to jerry-rig this one together using a phone that she claims can transmit back to Earth. I don’t know if that part works or not, but we uploaded the files from the other camera onto this one, and hopefully someone out there is watching these and can send help, hopefully before it’s too late.”

“Hopefully,” Cruz’s voice piped in from somewhere in the dark behind Jennings.

“We’re in the vents trying to sneak our way into the galley,” Jennings explained. “The aliens are all in the main hallways and we have no idea if they’ll be able to find us in here or not,

but I’d rather die at the hands of an alien than die hungry in a storage closet.”

“Same,” Cruz added.

Jennings paused, looking back and forth as if she were at a crossroad. “Which way?”

“Left.”

“Copy that,” Jennings replied, turning down the other passage and continuing to crawl.

“The galley is on the opposite side of the ship, so it’ll take us a while to get there at this speed, but I think we can make it.”

“If not, at least we’re not dying in a storage closet.”

Jennings sighed and looked at the camera. “When did talking about dying become a positive conversation?” She reached forward and the camera feed cut out.

Day Forty-Nine, one hour later

The video feed opens with another grainy image, this time blurred and frenzied as well. Jennings appeared to be frantically crawling through the vents now, abandoning all pretense of caution she had in the previous video. Jennings appeared and disappeared as she frantically crawled with both hands away from whatever was screeching behind her.

“They found us,” Jennings panted. “They grabbed her…Cruz…right out… of the vents! They heard us… up here and… reached up and… grabbed her.” Jennings turned around a corner, the screeching sound getting louder and louder. “They’re… chasing me… now! I can… hear them! I’m not… going to… make it…”

Jennings must have reached another fork in the vent and tucked herself into one of the other passages. She stopped moving, curling up to just breathe. The screeching sound seemed to pause as well, as if it were trying to locate her. Jennings turned her head to face the direction of the sound before looking back at the camera.

“I am praying to God right now that this thing actually transmits back to Earth, because if it doesn’t, there will be no record of what happened here.” Jennings squeezed her eyes shut, sucking in a deep breath before continuing. She opened her eyes and stared deep into the camera.

“Tell my family I love them. Tell them I love them so much and I’m sorry I thought I had to leave. Tell my fiancée I’m sorry, that I never should have agreed to this [CENSORED] mission.”

The aliens let out a horrifying war cry that made the vents shake. Jennings reached for the camera.

“And most importantly: tell my brother to enlist in the [CENSORED] Navy.”

Something punched through the vent beside Jennings, causing her to scream. The tentacle-like appendage wrapped itself around her neck as she dropped the camera, pulling her out off frame. Only the ceiling of the vent was visible as Jennings’ screams slowly went silent. The camera feed continued recording for a few minutes before going black and cutting out.