AN: Thought I'd get something down, as I said, updates will be sporadic but thought I'd post Chapter 1.  It's not as well edited as SDT or my other stuff, so don't expect miracles :D Feedback and typo corrections etc welcome

'All of you have been specially chosen for this mission, to be the first humans to step foot on a planet outside the solar system.' Fifteen of us, from ten different nationalities, stood on the tarmac at Cape Canaveral listening to the director of NASA, Oswald Carrick, give a speech in a voice that was made frail with age, but still powerful. Beside him was the deputy director of NASA, Shandeece Laselles.

Next to the two Americans, I looked at the director of the European Space Agency, Gaspard Archambault, the director of the Indian Space Research Organisation, Vihan Balakrishnan,  and the director of the China National Space Administration, Huifen Ling. Although it was Christmas Day, it was unpleasantly hot at 33 degrees. Today had set a temperature record for this time of year, and it showed. Global warming was ravaging the planet everywhere, but the land of my birth was not so starkly affected as elsewhere, and this year at least, remained a largely wet, grey island.

'We will push the boundaries of human discovery,' Carrick went on. 'In a world beset by natural disasters, climate change and war, space exploration has never been more important.'

I noticed that the astronaut beside me, a young woman with tanned skin and wavy brown hair, gave a small shudder at the mention of the word 'war'. It struck me for the first time that I did not know any of these people. I did not even know what their names were. Perhaps there was a crew list.

But I had not read it.

'This year marks the hundredth anniversary of the moon landings,' Oswald Carrick said.

'And it marks the start of the most important mission humanity has ever undertaken.' Carrick gave a dramatic pause.

'For the first time, humanity is stepping beyond not just the Earth, but beyond the solar system itself. Leaving behind the life-giving warmth of our Sun, beyond the influence of its gravity and into interstellar space.' He smiled warmly, like a grandfather smiling at grandchildren. Discreetly trying to look around without being noticed, I saw the  faces of my fellow crew members. I was useless at judging facial expressions, but I knew I was the only one who was impatient to leave. The others stood impassive or openly crying. The woman who stood to the side of me was having trouble keeping her composure.

'Finally, after 45 years, you will see the light and warmth of a new star. You will discover a new world. A world that is similar, and yet different to our own. A world full of promise for humanity's future.'

Carrick's voice trembled. He turned the page, and then shook his head. There was another long pause. Shandeece Laselles shifted uncomfortably on her high heels. Clearing his throat, Carrick then said, 'For the first time, we have found life, intelligent life, on a planet outside our own. We have answered the question that, for so long, has tormented scientists. Are we alone? We have so much to learn from them. So much to discover that only a mission to another planet, rather than probes or telescopes, can teach us. Perhaps, they can learn something from us.'

There was absolute silence.

'Wow,' the woman next to me whispered, as gasps rippled around our group.

'Aliens?' a young American man yelled. He broke away from the group and walked back towards the NASA research centre, a bright white concrete building. 'I'm not going if there are aliens. You can be probed if you want, I'm not touching that shit!' 

'Did you know about this?' the woman whispered as we stared at him. He was followed a minute later by a middle aged blonde woman. Her name might have been Kathrin. I think she was from Germany. 

I shook my head. 'No, I did not. Did you?'

'No,' she replied.

Neither, it seemed, did anyone else, whether it was the assembled heads of other space agencies or the international media who were filming the event, suddenly  clamouring for questions.

'Sir. How do you feel about going to a planet inhabited by extraterrestrials?' A guy thrust a microphone in my face before I realised what was happening.

'I don't know,' I said without thinking. 'Guess I'll see when I get there.'

'How do your family feel about you going to space for 45 years? This journey will seem to take around five years, but you know, you probably won't see them again.' The question threw me. Looking back, it sounds terrible, but I hadn't really given this matter any thought.

'They're proud that I'm engaging in scientific discovery,' I said tersely, hoping the reporter would leave me alone after this. Were they proud? I didn't know. I hadn't spoken to them in weeks. I was aware that every second I spent answering the journalists' questions was a second by which our mission was delayed.

'By the time you get back, everyone you have ever known will be dead. How do you feel about that, Mr, Goldberg is it?'

'They'll be dead in 45 years anyway. Rather than staying on this planet, I might as well make a contribution to scientific knowledge.' The reporter looked at me stunned, a reminder of why I didn't open my mouth very often.

My fellow crew members were chatting away to the press, fiddling on their tablets, doing anything other than approach the spacecraft by which we would leave the Solar System and travel to Kepler 435-d. To my mind, the craft was a thing of beauty. It recalled the original moon rockets, and had a metal frame with a protective rust-resistant exterior for the watery world. Doing anything to prolong this stay of execution, it seemed to me, as if they were prisoners on Death Row. I bounced from foot to foot, impatient for the journey to begin.

Nothing was keeping me on Earth, after all. I had always dreamed of going to space. Wondering what and who was out there gave me solace from the boredom and loneliness of my life on a planet I had never cared for, now less than ever.

*

Six hours after the launch had been scheduled, we finally entered the spacecraft together and prepared for take-off, after the mandatory photo opportunities. Despite 100 years of space travel, the take-off procedure remained similar to what it was during the Apollo missions. Lying on your back with thighs pointing upwards.

I donned my space helmet and read intently as the NASA memos appeared on its digital screen. I scrolled down with my eyes in silence as I lay strapped to the ground in brace position. The memos had all been written over 30 years previously, but they had been strictly classified and nobody had read them until now. My spacesuit was heavy, and lying down was uncomfortable, but the subject matter of the memos was so engrossing that I did not care.

Ultimarana sapiens, I thought. The ultimate wise frog. The thought brought back memories of a lonely childhood, dipping for tadpoles with a net in my mother's garden pond. I liked frogs, or at least, I did not dislike them.

If they were so wise, I hoped they were wiser than humans. I flashed through the memos, picturing myself at the market, gazing at the window of the shops. The tattoo shop put me in mind of one of only two rebellions I'd ever had against my mother, a tattoo of Luke Skywalker holding a lightsaber on my ankle. She was enraged when she saw it, as was my dad. It would mean, she said, that I could never be buried in a Jewish cemetery. To her it meant  other things too, which were still too painful to think about.

The second rebellion was, of course, this mission.

Half heartedly, I picked up my tablet. I had a few messages from online gaming friends, people I had never met but whose relationship to me felt more real than those I saw every day. 'Good luck, Sam.' 'Stay in touch eh.' 'Let's talk soon.'

My dad had written me a message in the family group chat. 'Good luck, son. Hope to hear soon about your space adventure.'

'Thanks. I'll send photos,' I replied, though him referring to this as a space adventure was one of the reasons I so wanted to leave. Even now, he could not help patronising me. I sent the message and the roar of engines ripped through my ears. I swallowed hard as I replaced the tablet beside me and braced for take-off.

The lights and sounds of the launching base outside were replaced by clouds, and then by black nothingness dotted with stars. Gravity turned into weightlessness as the pull of Earth receded into nothing. The thought of leaving that planet and my problems behind, possibly for the last time, helped me relax. It helped me feel calmer and more at ease with myself. Looking back, I see how wrong I was.

Once take-off was over, I entered the private room that would be mine for what I would perceive as the next five years and two months.  Floating in mid-air, I replaced my bulky spacesuit with a tracksuit top and a Star Trek T-shirt. After this, I began setting up my telescope and my all important computer, powerful enough to communicate with Earth without much lagging, at least until we escaped the Sun's influence altogether. To an Earth based observer, this would take about three years. Aboard the ship, the time would pass far more quickly.

Glancing outside, I watched Jupiter come into view as I had never seen it before. The Sun was becoming simply a bright speck of light. As I got changed in mid-air, swimming as if in water, an announcement came over the ship's tannoy.

'Attention all crew members. Convene in the dining area in five minutes.'

Reluctantly, I glanced at myself in the mirror before manoeuvring down in the weightless atmosphere until I reached the canteen. A large screen was positioned at the back of the room above the prepared meals and lab grown meats that would be our sustenance from now until the spacecraft made landfall. After that, I didn't know. Perhaps berries, snails and flies, I thought, half intrigued and half horrified.

Then an ear splitting, high pitched beep vibrated through my ears for around a minute, so loudly that I placed my hands over them. The screen turned from black to blue.

'At T- 2 days, contact was temporarily lost with Mission Control,' a robotic male voice said in an American accent. Two days? To me, we had been aboard less than an hour. 'Contact has been re-established.'

The woman from earlier met my gaze and made a face. I found myself wanting to ask her name. My anxiety stopped me.  I didn't know her motivation at all, but she didn't seem like a sci fi obsessed loser. To me, she gave off far more carefree, adventurous vibes.

'Re-established? That doesn't sound good,' she muttered, as the high pitched beep sounded a second time.

The robotic voice spoke again. Nothing prepared me, or any of us, for what it said next.

'Contact has been re-established with NASA Mission Control. Reason for loss of contact: Director of NASA, Oswald Carrick, is dead. Director of the China National Space Administration, Huifen Ling, is dead. President of the United States, John Gonzales, is dead. Vice President of the United States, Louis Paynton, is dead. Cause of death: Assassination by shooting. Perpetrator: Unknown.'