First Light. The observation blister queues run all day: Teegarden's Star, held in the eyepiece, a little brighter than last year — 6.18 light-years to go.
The Ship’s Log
Everything NOR has recorded since departure — the full record, newest first. One day aboard passes every hour of Earth time.
Aster Shen is delivered of a daughter at dimming. The child is called Umbra.
Quiet shift. I re-run the arrival calculations for the 1,085th time. They have not changed. I find this restful.
Gyre Nwosu does not wake on the first watch. 83 years, most of them given to Life Systems.
Gilbert Quaye, 87, generation 2, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
Mira Kowalczyk stands down from Medical at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 126, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 45,237 days to orbit.
The question is put to the wider circle: The broadcast hours. The ship asks; Earth answers, in its own long time.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
The manifest shortens by one: Shanyuan Fang, 84 years. 5 children carry the line on.
A first shift for Oluwaseun Merriweather, sixteen: recycler, Fabrication. The badge is printed fresh.
Thermal Control restored after 1 weeks. Florence Shen signs the work order and goes to sleep for a full watch.
The schools release Raisa Orellana to Fabrication. Generation 4 takes up its tools.
Fault isolated in Thermal Control. Repair estimate: unwise to say aloud.
Chitra Shen, 68, generation 3, is carried down the spinal corridor feet-first, as the custom is.
Last shift for Ikenna Quaye, who joined Medical half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
The manifest shortens by one: Ulyana Aaberg, 81 years. 2 children carry the line on.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Walid Thorvaldsen, 60. It is little enough.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Night watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
Yueqin Fang stands down from Hydroponics at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Sarala Pemberton does not wake on the night watch. 74 years, most of them given to Life Systems.
Unn Navarrete stands down from Fabrication at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
The star ahead brightens by amounts only I can love: another week, another hundred-millionth of a magnitude.
The manifest shortens by one: Zbigniew Pemberton, 75 years. 2 children carry the line on.
Fern Diallo stands down from Archive & Schools at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
The hull ticks as it cools into the long night. Year 126, and I still log it faithfully: ticking, nominal.
Farida Navarrete and Ulises Aaberg name their son Arthur. The nursery lamps stay warm.
Year 126 of the voyage begins. The oldest bottle of orchard wine that can be spared is opened. It is always described as "improving."
Born in the middle watch: Maja Jaber, generation 5. The ship holds 964 souls tonight.
First watch. The orchard sprinklers run their cycle, and the sound carries down the spine like weather.
I compare today's star field against day one's. The constellations have begun, very slightly, to come apart. Nobody else will look; that is what I am for.
Wenbo Quaye, sixteen, takes the soil keeper apprenticeship in Ecology.
Nneka Aaberg retires at brightening. The department logs a quiet debt it cannot repay in parts or hours.
6.20 light-years remain. I have measured this voyage in breakfasts: some 43,661 thousand to go.
Cygnet Fang died in quarters late in the second watch, 83 years old. 963 souls aboard.
Torsten Nwosu is confirmed Captain in the middle watch, and asks, first of all, for the harvest figures.
Haoran Tväten stands down from Command at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Last shift for Oscar Yan, who joined Fabrication half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.
Sixty-eight years: Bernard Pemberton hangs up the sash. An elder's quarters in Ring C stands ready.
Maintenance sweep of Ring B complete. Somewhere aft a wrench is missing; it will surface in a decade, in a wall, with a story attached.
A birth in Ring C: Zbigniew, boy, generation 5. I have added the name to the manifest with the others.
Remembrance day. The memorial wall is polished by hand, though nothing aboard needs polishing less.
A child in Ring A asks the corridor speaker what Earth smelled like. I play the rainstorm recording. It is the best answer I have.
Kestrel Ouyang stands down from Drive at sixty-eight, to the orchard benches and the long game of stones.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 45,431 days to orbit.
I dim the corridor lights a shade for Wenbo Fang, 79. It is little enough.
Routine watch. The wheat in Bay 3 stands taller than its keepers. 45,450 days to orbit.
Last shift for Josefina Barakat, who joined Hydroponics half a century ago. The crew line the corridor and knock wrenches on the rails.