Blooooody hell- when they told us that the mission would be a long time, they were damn right. Somehow, seeing the same empty, inky, blacky (if it’s not a word it should be) space outside the ship got boring after the first few months. Heck, I would’ve gone stir crazy if I didn’t have Mason, my only other real friend up here. Dan, Allison, and Saskia… Well, Spacca (our cute pet name for the Space Academy) claims it’s impossible not to become at least acquaintances with your crew, but these guys have made it pretty hard. Somehow Spacca has managed to throw the 4 people who have the most conflicting personalities on the same team, and still expect us to each complete our mission. It’s when I think about thoughts like these that I pray to the administration angel who set me up with my childhood friend (wow… that’s not what it sounds like).

Ok quick run through- Dan is a bit pompous. He’s the Tech guy, so he’s wicked smart, just not so experienced with social interaction. Got that type of hair that you could wring out and find a decent cup of wax, that is to say, long, blacky and slicked back. He’s kinda tall, you know the guys who stand up straight and look down over their glasses at you? Pretty much the feeling you get whenever he talks.

Saskia? Well considering that she and Allison had the nickname of the “Space Angels” (Honestly they could’ve thought of a sexier name) she isn’t lacking anything in the looks department. Long chocolate cocoa coloured hair, pale white skin, warm brown eyes – anything but warm personality. This girl doesn’t talk unless it’s necessary, and when she does it’s almost always scathing remarks- meaning we don’t often chat up a storm. She’s the Geo analyst, studying meteorites, earth samples, that sort of thing. Rocks.

Now Allison, she’s pretty much the opposite of Saskia- pretty much flirts with anything that has a heartbeat. Often though, it’s just flirting for the purposes of teasing the individual –speaking from sad prior experience. Apart from flirting she has another interesting hobby- MMA. This girl loves all types of beat down, Krav Maga, KickBoxing, Muy Thai, ergo she can really open up the proverbial can of whup-ass whenever she feels. The job of being our repair girl, or construction specialist as they like to call it, is quite fitting for her.  Shoulder length blond hair and a well-endowed figure makes up the easiest to talk to of the troublesome trio.

And Mason. My only solstice in the tornado of a social group that is team 53. Our tall, tanned, sandy blonde, broad-shouldered charismatic group leader. The best description I can think of is the stereotypical ‘surfer-dude’. He’s an extreme sports junkie. Completely addicted to everything extreme, dangerous, and highly-likely-to-injure-yourself sport that you can think of. I say that he studied to be the medic simply because then he could fix himself when he crashes off a cliff during extreme mountain biking or something. He’s able to get along with absolutely everyone, ergo, he is the reliable backbone of our team.

My name is Ollie, and I’m the Animals guy. My job is to test various animals for side effects and pattern changes when put in space. I was born on a farm, so I wouldn’t say there was much of a change when I went to Spacca except for the spacey stuff we had to learn about. Mason used to visit the farm every so often because our parents were really good friends. We got on really well, and when Mason started to talk about how cool the city was, showing me his cool gadgets (I still use the automatic sharpener to this day), I started to show him the joys of the countryside; how to have fun around an electric fence. I’m seriously surprised that we don’t glow in the dark, what with the amount of exposure we’ve had to electricity.

Right, the mission. After 1 year, we’re finally able to come home! See family and friends! Not see these people!

I was jolted from my happy little thoughts by a slap on the back.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” said Mason as I stumbled forward a little. I’m sorely tempted to respond sarcastically and ask which oven he’s talking about- but somewhere in the back of my mind, I understand that it could be a little immature and a lame comeback. I do it anyway.

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“Well they don’t exactly allow us to have ovens- they don’t seem to like fire remember?” I responded, but Mason just grinned and slapped me on the back, propelling me forward even further.

Thanks to Mason’s help I reached the door before him and pulled it open. Inside are our troublesome trio, obviously not talking to each other at all.

Allison had her feet on the long table, pretty unconcerned about the awkwardness in the room.   Dan was doing something on his laptop, (no surprises there) sitting like a model student in his chair. Saskia was resting her head on her crossed arms, upon the table. As I opened the door, they all looked up, found nothing of interest, and went back to what they were doing (woo self-esteem). But when Mason walked in, the atmosphere changed. Allison took her legs off the table and crossed them over each other, Dan shut his laptop, and Saskia took her head off the table.

Mason walked over to the monitor as I joined the table, and switched it on. As the sparkling bald head of our commander graced the screen, Mason grabbed a seat and spun over to the table.

“Congrats guys!” smiled the commander “you’re finally clear to come home. As you know, this is the last message you’ll receive before you enter the Milky Way galaxy, due to power consumption and connection difficulties that can occur during the final leg of the journey. Sorry that this face is the first and last you see before earth, and at 0:00 hours no less.”

That was a little strange. The commander was more like one of those hard-ass drill masters that appears to have no other volume level than really, really loud.

“Seeing as I haven’t got long, I’ll keep it short. We’re very sorry about to hear about the death of your crewmate, and we apologise for this, but you will have to fill out the form and incident report before you get back. Their name shall be recorded in our halls, rest assured, and they will get proper respect.”

Well shit. An error? Everyone seemed to have the same expression as me, mildly confused with a hint of worry.

“The CMI confirmed the loss of mental activity 3 days ago. We expect a full report on the incident. Continue your voyage back. We wish you a safe return trip. End tape”

Ok, well that kicked our panic levels up a notch. CMI’s (or Cerebral Monitor Implant) don’t fail. Ever. They’re linked back to mission control, and the eggheads back at SPACCA can use them for study and for monitoring our health signs. And since all the functions in the implant are completely controlled by the staff at the base, they have access to all the error reports and abnormalities. We literally have no control over the CMI, so there isn’t any tampering that could have happened.

The screen went black, and silence descended over the control room. I could see a mixture of emotions on everyone’s faces; worry, anxiety, fear, confusion, but nobody seemed willing to say anything. Finally Mason (praise be to the administration angel) rose from his seat and broke the silence.

“Ok guys, let’s get this straight. CMI’s don’t fail. That means one of us,” he cast a sweeping glance around the table “has had an abnormal shift in their brain patterns. We can’t contact base for another 3 mission days, until we arrive home. But it’s just 3 mission days- then we can find out what has gone wrong. Panicking isn’t going to help us- the people down at base will know what to do.”

Ok, a logical, well thought out response. Perhaps there was a chance that we could get home before shit hit the proverbial fan? Then Allison opened her mouth.

“But what if it’s aliens?”

Ah geez. Best thing to do now was grab an umbrella and prepare for a deep cleansing wash after this was all over.

“Alison,” Dan stated as he pointedly glared at her, “aliens don’t exist, at least for certain in the quadrant that our ship resides in. This quadrant has been explored over a thousand times by graduates far superior to us, and they have reported nothing. Frankly, the mere fact that you even thought there was a possibility of extra-dimensional beings makes me wonder how you got past the basic information part of the course.”

“Yeah, screw you too Dan. Not literally, of course, I’m afraid you’ll have to invent a program to do that for you.”

“SHUT IT!” yelled Mason. He rarely ever yelled, illustrating exactly how on edge this situation had affected him. “Leave your petty grievances out of this, we seriously don’t have time for it. We need to try and figure out a way out of this situation- I might have an idea with the medical equipment we have on board. Listen out for an announcement over the intercom systems; I'll update you if I figure out something."

Mason promptly turned on his heels and exited the control room. The rest of us sat there in stunned silence- this was not the Mason we had been with throughout the mission. Saskia was the first to move, slowly pushing herself out of the chair and walking towards the exit. The only indicator that she had even been slightly disturbed by the events that had happened was the paleness on her face, and the wide-open eyes that tried to avoid everyone’s gaze as she crossed the room.

Allison shot a dangerous look at Dan before kicking her chair back from the table and storming off after Saskia. Dan briefly returned to his computer, before closing the lid with a little more force than necessary, and walked stiffly out the door.

Alone in the room, I looked at the glowing green counter above the monitor.

71:52 hours until re-entry