Checking in again with another update on life aboard the Melinoë.
This month we bid a final farewell to the priest and held a brief ceremony for his passing.
At first I worried that the two men whom I had to inter would be upset at the sight of his wrapped body and considered leaving them in the hold.
Yet my obligation to their relationship won out and I brought them into the viewing area with the rest of the crew to see his body depart. Thankfully they were not an issue, and simply stared on in apparently quiet reflection with the rest of us. Perhaps it was a cathartic moment of closure, but regardless I’m encouraged by their improvement and have allowed them to rejoin the rest of the crew again. If they still hold any resentment towards me they do not show it, and I believe their confinement offered many chances for self-reflection that was productive not just for them, but also for the rest of the crew. Part of me had gone into it dreading the experience but I found it to be much more freeing than expected.
When the airlock shut and the chasm of space yanked him from the ship I couldn’t help but feel oddly peaceful at the sight of that tiny form flying away from us. There was a certain spirituality in the moment, a reunion with the elements and place from which we all came. He wasn’t so much as leaving us, he was simply returning to the fold. When other crew members came by later and I asked them their feelings on the ceremony I was struck by how closely my perspective and the theologians had aligned. Perhaps we are all spiritual creatures deep down and what separates us is not philosophies but interpretation and pretense.
The weeks that have followed since the ceremony have been nothing short of wonderful, the crew has a new sense of inclusive camaraderie that I had hoped to see months ago but is no less welcome now. The theologian contingent has entertained us with harrowing biblical tales and scientists have responded in kind with stories from the field of all manner of bizarre flora and fauna. My birthday was this month as well and I was delighted to awake to find the whole crew perched outside my door waiting to regale me with a celebratory song and crude ration cake. I’m starting to grow quite fond of the men and hope that soon I can think of them not just as fellow crew mates but as friends. A refreshing spirit of togetherness abounds that was badly needed.
Other than routine day to day operational upkeep this concludes the events of this month. Yet I am still bothered by two things: we continue to have no contact with Earth command or the engineering crew.
When I press my ear to the door I can hear movement and voices through the bulkhead so I know they’re active back there. I’m puzzled at why they have made no apparent attempts to contact us but perhaps I am just searching for a problem where there is none. Thus far the ship has performed just as she should. However I can’t seem to shake the feeling of how odd it seems to be on such a significant journey with an entire group of people we have yet to meet.
Also, we still have not received any transmissions from Earth. This has troubled some of the crew and admittedly myself as well but as the lead tech officer theorized, I expect this is due to a longer signal delay than the scientists first anticipated. Being the maiden flight I’m sure its not possible to work out every possible issue beforehand. Simulations and assumptions can only take you so far and sometimes I have to remind myself that we’re all researchers as much as explorers. Still, it would come as great comfort to myself and the men if we were to receive an update from our families and the general state of things back home. We hope to hear from you next month.
Until then, the Melinoë will continue to fly far and true for the company, the world, the future.
E. Mattox
Mission Commander of the Melinoë
A Printed Mind 
Nice. I like the ambiguity of whether these entries are being read or going to be read by anyone. Lots more I like but typing on a tablet sucks