Earthdate: July 4, 2090
Location: High Earth Orbit, U.E.S. Mayflower
Status: Launch Day
We have cleared the orbital moorings. The primary thrusters fired with a vibration that I felt in my teeth, a deep, resonant hum that signaled the start of a sixty-year burn.
The launch ceremony was broadcast to the entire system. I gave the speech they wrote for me, talking about hope and the resilience of the human spirit. I managed to deliver it without stumbling, though the lights from the camera drones were blinding. Once the feed cut, the silence on the bridge was immediate. The crew knows the reality. The speeches are for the history books; the work is for us.
We are running on conventional drives. The Board deemed the G-Drive too unstable for biological cargo over long durations, so we are taking the slow road. A fifth the speed of light. It sounds fast until you look at the distance to Tau Ceti. Slow and steady is the game, not like ReMetra’s attempt. We don’t want to look like them. This is a game FAILTECH determined being first was not the winning move.
I am the last one scheduled for the freeze. The colonists are already under, row upon row of frosted glass boxes in the crew bays. I walked the decks one last time, checking the seals and the status lights. It is a ghost ship already, populated by the living dead. I will initiate the automated navigation sequence in one hour, and then I will join them.
The medical technician promised me the freezing process is like falling asleep. I suspect he is lying.