Earthdate: February 12, 2105 (Ship Time)
Location: Deep Space (~3 LY from Sol)
Status: Scheduled Wake Cycle 1
I woke up screaming. The med-techs say it is a common reaction to the first long-duration thaw, a primal panic response as the brain tries to reconcile the gap in consciousness. It took three hours for the shivering to stop. The taste of the cryo-fluid is stuck in the back of my throat, a metallic sweetness that water cannot wash away.
We are fifteen years into the mission. To me, it feels like I closed my eyes five minutes ago. I have lingering sensations of experiences that I don’t remember. They felt like a dream I couldn’t remember.
I have spent the last forty-eight hours reviewing the telemetry, deep space scan reports, ship condition and maintenance logs. The ship is holding together. The hull integrity is at 99.8%, with only minor micro-meteoroid pitting on the forward armor. The reactor output is stable. Ship self-repair is doing well keeping things in order.
The news from Earth is... strange. The data bursts from the Sentinel Mesh are delayed by years, so I am reading about political scandals and corporate mergers that were resolved a decade ago. Communication across the mesh is nearly realtime, so it feels surreal to be delivered news in bursts to slowly catch up. It feels like reading a history book about people I used to know, and people I have never heard of. My parents are apparently dead now. The realization is a dull ache, numbed by the residual sedatives in my system. I wanted to cry but it felt like I already experienced this. Afterall, on a 60 year mission in deep space being in cryo… Everyone you know moves on without you, but from your perspective. My perspective, I only saw them a few days ago. I suppose you learn to deal with it in your own ways.
The Pioneer is five light-years ahead of us. Its transponder signal is strong and clear. It is dropping the Series-9 communication beacons on schedule, leaving a breadcrumb trail of data for us to follow. Seeing that green dot on the long-range sensors is the most comforting thing I have ever seen. We are not alone. Someone is paving the road.
I go back under in twelve hours. I am dreading the cold.