0800 hours

We have been traveling for two days-at least it seems like it.

The radar says it's been over forty light years now since we left Earth.

Has it been that long? I wonder what humans look like now. Are we still at peace or have we gone to war again?

Does it matter when you're so far away from home?

Will this planet be our new home? Can it be now that Earth is lost to us?

If things go wrong...is it possible to turn back now?

"What are you writing there?", Commander Roberts asks while sharpening his blade. It's the same blunt knife he's been at for seven hours.

"Thoughts on the journey," I answer sarcastically, hoping he would scram. The last seven hours being stuck with him have been...difficult.

"Will anyone back home care?"

Dull as always. No wonder that admiral gave him vice-command.

Not that I have issues with that. Orders are to be executed.

"Perhaps not."

"Then stop and prepare the arrival gear."

I nod my head even though the gear was already prepped. For the fifth time, I curse the day this forgetful fool was given my post.

It would have been mine here too if it weren't for...

"Jessica."

"Greetings, XO."

Speak of the devil, she comes bearing gifts. Her arms carry an unopened titanium box which she drops as she wheezes silently. I eye her shoulders, seeing proof of the continuous strain they are under from lifting the hefty dual carburetor engine, an outdated model from the 21st Century that should have been replaced long ago back on Earth.

Yet she chose to side with a tepid ignoramus. Her loss.

"Sergeant Charleston said there are some readings he must discuss with you," she states, giving the hopeful fanatic a blank stare to curb his enthusiasm.

Hopefully, he will get the hint.

"Ah. But is that not what Johnson over here can take care of?"

Pointing to me, he once again relegates part of his duties to someone lesser-the USS Baltimore crew's Senior Mission Specialist. If I could, I would roll my eyes at this sad attempt to reduce his workload.

He may just as be a figurehead with an empty title for all the tasks he pushes on me constantly.

"You're the Vice Commander," she barks.

Would anyone believe this is a Lieutenant Commander?

Muttering under his breath, he places a hand on her tiny shoulders.

"Still..."

A hiss erupts from the engineer's throat. "Touch my shoulder again, I dare you."

Yanking his fingers off like he was burned playing hot potato, he squeamishly smiles and reluctantly makes his way to the bridge.

I follow. What comes next is a surprise to all of us.

"There are signs of life radiating from this planet," Charleston marvels. "Ramos also checked the database and it seems the message from on planet has reached our ship's airways."

"Impossible," remarks Roberts. "I did not know you played jokes, Sarge."

"How can I? The map is very clear. Red signifies living flesh..."

While they argue, our communications officer sits in front of the screen with dread darkening his tanned features.

"Commander, you're going to have to see this," Ramos states, paling after having viewed the message.

"We have been traveling for two days."

I drop my jaw in shock as the recording plays. However, it is only when Charleston hands me an amplified satellite map still that I find it in me to turn to Roberts and slam him to the nearest counter.

"Has it been that long... have we gone to war again?"

"Is this a game to you?" I whisper, pissed that he would dare mess with me this way.

His reply makes me weak in the knees.

"That recording is from two days after today."

Jessica balks. "How is that possible?"

The crew pilot finally sits up from his chair. Setting it to auto-pilot, he asks me, "When did you write that? Who else was with you?"

"Today. Roberts."

"It must be a prank then..." mutters Ramos. Unconvinced, he observes minute details in the background of the video and verifies if its genuine.

"Johnson? Where's the arrival gear?" questions Charleston.

"Why does everyone...", I start, then I see it.

"Will this planet be our new home? Can it be now that Earth is lost to us?"

That lookalike is wearing my rear-entry space suit with my rank and the force logo on it.

All I view in my line of vision is scarlet. No sooner than I feel my forehead scrunch, Jessica's right hand surrounds my left bicep.

"Breathe, Commander Johnson."

The crew pilot returns quickly. "Checked the suit port-it's still there."

If things go wrong..., is it possible to turn back now?

A sharp intake of breath lets us-military and civilians- turn to the blasted recording once again. The imposter stares at the camera with a wistful look in his eyes.

"How foolish we were back then..."

Warning sirens sound the moment we hit the exoplanet's orbit. Scarlet light encapsulates us as grim faces watch the audiovisual message with foggy breaths and hazed eyes. There's more people in the message now too.

Jessica swears when she checks the room temperature controls.

She says, "I'll have to do a manual over-ride. Looks like we were hit by a sizeable object."

Charleston sways before dropping to the floor, the satellite map still in hand.

Even I know we're losing oxygen.

The backup generator has gone silent.

"Can you take over, Johnson?" pleads Roberts.

"...to think we stood a chance," finishes the other me.

Before I blank out, I see a grinning Jessica copy and the imposter me speaking on the screen.

Their reported location is the exo-planet.

"Insanity is the process of doing the same thing over again and expecting a different result."

Roberts chokes on hearing the last statements. His bloodshot eyes look feverish in the emergency lighting.

"You doomed us to Insanity, Roberts."

"Let us play this game over and over again."