Herald's Predicament

Crew log.....eh, I’ll call it a diary.
Diary entry Number 1, Year 2265, Current coordinates, X:763.865 Y:73579.34 Heading: 55.2 Degrees. Closest star: Proxima Centauri.
As far as I can tell, this’ll be a routine transport mission to the Gliese-667 system. The rest of the Sol’s crew is in cryo, leaving me to watch over them. As far as I can tell, It’ll take a good six years before we get to Proxima. It’s nice, having peace and quiet for the five years I’ve been currently watching over the crew. It’s given me time to do things I normally would be court-marshalled doing. I’ve upgraded the sensor algorithm on the onboard scanners. The upped scan range now reaches a up to 50,000 kilometres away. I don’t think Captain Yaar would notice. No one actually tells him about the actual specs of the ship. All he gets to do is name it, and give it a new paint job.
Log end.

Herald Smithsonian sighed. He hadn’t considered making a diary until now. He hoped it would keep him sane. He heard the stories; the (un)fortunate few who were chosen to work the “graveyard” job would go insane after a few years, months even. It would be a shame if it happened to him. Sanity was a valuable commodity in space. Unlike the science-fiction that was said to be the likely future back in the 21st Century, there was no faster-than-light travel. Science proved it impossible (probably until the 30th Century, which was far ahead.).

Still though; even if FTL was impossible, he wished it was real now. That one show he occasionally enjoyed, from the year 1984, Star Trek, which took place in the 23rd Century(which also wasn’t very far.) had FTL, in the form of a “Warp Drive.” Unfortunately, he’d have to be stuck with sitting in a dank little satellite everyone called a “fine starship,” watching the rest of the crew, who were sleeping like rocks while being flash-frozen. It wasn’t fair. Then again, Herald thought, if someone else were in my predicament right now, they’d say that this wasn’t fair. He sighed. All’s fair in Love, War, and Interplanetary spaceflight, I guess. He joked in his head, a short chuckle following after.

Herald entered the observation deck of the giant space station named Sol that was currently hurtling through deep space. The stars hadn’t changed. It looked like they hadn’t moved a parsec. Orion was still in it’s usual spot, watching over Herald like a hawk. Earth, the Sol’s homeworld was far behind them, getting ever farther. Maybe if I jump out the airlock.... Wait. Was that a suicidal thought? Maybe he was going insane. He wanted to go back, back to Earth. He yearned to see the beaches of California, where he was born. He wanted to swim in the cool waters, feel the tide. But it was just too far away. Stop whining. Get back to work. He scolded himself. His PDA beeped quietly. What is it now.....? He thought, pulling out the damned PDA and turning it on. Rogue EM wave? I wonder....

Hastily, the UNSA officer pulled himself along to the sensor deck. He tapped a few screens, and punched in a few commands. This wasn’t going to elude him now.
***
Herald was confused. The EM wave registered normal. Thing was, there was no source. The thing just seemed to be drifting in space, aimless.

BEEP! BEEP!

The two beeps seemed to come from a human interface console to his left. The screen was blank, except for a single word.

HELP.

Herald’s face was now devoid of colour. Did his ship just ask for help? He pulled the HIC’s keyboard over, staring at the screen. He started to type.

>help with?
WHERE AM I
>the UNS Sol.
WHAT’S THAT
>the ship you’re on.
WHAT YEAR IS IT
>2265
…
>who are you?
WHO ARE YOU

The console suddenly blacked out, restarting again. The screen was blank, as it was a few seconds ago. That was strange. The computer’s dialogue didn’t follow the format it was programmed to do. Maybe it was a spook. Herald looked over to the scanner, and the EM wave wasn’t there anymore.

Then, a single line of text appeared on the HIC's screen

TWILIGHT SPARKLE

The two words seemed to make Herald's head throb. It seemed like a name. A strange name, to say the least. He started to type something into the HIC.

>how did you get into my ship?
I DON'T KNOW
>seems like magic.
IT IS
>what do you mean?

This "Twilight Sparkle" spook, or spatial phenomenon seemed sentient.

I CAN USE MAGIC
ALL UNICORNS COULD

Herald was in way too deep now.

Author's Note:

Alright guys. First chapter....

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