Begin recording.

The ship appeared on our radar. It was unexpected and it frightened us. We were the only ship. Another ship couldn’t... it couldn't be from Earth. We tried to transmit a message, but received no reply. We observed. The ship did nothing; merely floating in space. Its inaction made us brave and we decided to approach it.

It was more a rocket than a ship; a strange blend of familiar engineering and foreign ideas. There was a clumsiness about it, as though it had been modelled on a child's sketch. The materials were a mix of new and old, showing the rocket had undergone several patchwork repairs using whatever was to hand, regardless of its suitability. This gave it a sort of junkyard feel that made me relax. I figured that, since the ship didn’t seem as refined as ours was, whoever was inside it couldn't be that intimidating. Whatever beings we were dealing with, we felt we could match them technologically.

We approached, hailing the rocket as we went. We expected, and received, no reply.

Logic was against investigation, but none of us could deny the irresistible pull of the alien. The chances of us – the only ship to have made this journey – finding another vessel in the extraordinary expanse of space was beyond astronomical. Pauls put it best. He said that as a child he wanted to be an astronaut because of science fiction. Then he grew up and became an astronaut dedicated to science fact. And here we were, faced with a rocket that had to be of alien origin. We had an opportunity here to explore what had, until this moment, been the fiction that inspired us to get where we were. We were frightened and exhilarated; logic seemed to crumble under the weight of that. Only Hoffman retained misgivings, but he surrendered to the popular vote.

We docked beside the rocket. Benton suited up and went out to attach grappling hooks. When the ships were securely fastened together, the rest of us (bar Terrance and Pauls) disembarked.

I like space walking. Most people find it an uneasy experience, and it usually takes them a while to relax into the nothingness, but I've never had this problem. There is something infinitely appealing to me about the total weightlessness of it. 'Weightlessness' isn't the right word, really, but I'm not sure how else to describe it. We’re weightless within the ship, of course, but on a space walk – when you let yourself out into the vacuum – you’re leaving behind everything you’ve carried with you, literal and figurative, and you step out an absence. There is a freedom in this. The only weight is the tether that keeps you from floating out on an endless journey. It is truly peaceful.

The journey between ships felt too short. Benton had located the heart of the rocket – its central power – and she gave it the jump it needed to come to life. I reached out to the touch the rocket and felt it hum. It felt as if it were taking a reviving breath.

Benton opened the outer hatch that led into the air lock chamber and she entered the ship first. We floated in after her. I could hear the heavy breaths of the others and there was a sense of pause, as though each of them was on the verge of saying something but never quite getting there. They were uneasy. Hoffman started muttering under his breath, naming stars. He always did that when he was nervous.

'Hey, Hoff, can you name something else for a change?' Daniels asked him, her voice reverberating in our helmets.

'Beta, Theta, Upsilon, Omega Carinae,' Hoffman continued, his voice stronger now. I could hear his smile.

'The scan picked up some organic matter, but no active life forms.' Benton told us.

'Organic matter,' Daniels said. 'Dead alien?'

'Why not?' I said.

'Bets on what it looks like?' asked Daniels.

'Reptilian. Without a doubt,' Hoffman said, interrupting his own list.

'It's got to have tentacles,' Daniels said and she sounded gleeful. It felt forced though, as if she was trying to seem happier than she was. 'What d'you reckon Shep?' she asked me.

'Humanoid with golden skin and yellow eyes,' I said. 'That or it's a Thark from Barsoom.'

I turned and looked out of the hatch we had just come through. All that space around our ship, all that darkness. It pulled at me. With a sigh, I turned and watched Benton, who was still studying the second hatch that led into the rocket.

'Guys,' she said. 'Come over here.' As we floated to her she said: 'Look at this.'

She was pointing to the airlock system.

'What's wrong with it?' Daniels asked.

'It's a lot like ours,' I said.

'Exactly,' Benton agreed. 'Only it looks older; a bit more rudimentary. Strange though, isn't it?'

'No stranger than the fact that we found this rocket at all,' said Daniels.

'No stranger than the fact that we're actually wasting resources exploring it,' said Hoffman, and it was only then that I realised just how frightened he really was.

Benton activated the airlock, the hatch behind us fastened into place and we felt the pressure change. A green light glowed and Benton pushed the door in. She pulled herself into the black beyond and Daniels followed close on her heels.

'Delta, Kappa Velorum, Epsilon, Iota Carinae,' Hoffman muttered as he chased Daniels in.

'Deimos, Phobos, Metis, Adrastea –

'Those are moons,' Hoffman told me.

'I know. Just thought I’d spice up the litany.'

'Your idea of spice leaves something to be desired,' said Daniels.

I laughed, although I wasn't particularly amused. The small talk, the laughter, it helped keep everyone calm.

'Hey guys...' Benton started.

I floated after Hoffman into the cockpit. Benton and Daniels hovered by the pilot's chair and Benton shone her torch down on the being that was strapped into it. Very little decomposition had occurred, so the man appeared asleep.

'He's... human,' Hoffman said.

'It would seem so,' said Benton.

'But how?'

'Beats me.'

Daniels shuddered.

'He's creepy.'

I floated closer just as Benton shifted away, taking her torchlight with her. I pulled my own torch out of my belt and lit the man up again. His arms hovered, weightless, over the arm rests of the pilot chair, but the rest of him was firmly strapped into place. His eyes were closed. He wasn't an old man but he wasn't young either. He had an ordinary face: even features, nothing that stood out; one of those grey faces that blended into a crowd; one of those faces you could forget. I memorised him. He looked so peaceful.

'Hey, I found a pilot's log and some video files. Should we take them back to Bertha?' Daniels broke across my thoughts.

'I don't think there's anything else to find here, so we may as well,' said Benton.

'Maybe do a quick float through?' I suggested.

'Could do,' said Benton and I leaned against the pilot's chair and pushed myself backwards off one of the armrests. I watched the dead man as I floated back to the cockpit entrance, but when I reached the doorway I turned around and floated on through the corridor beyond.

The first room I came to was his bedroom. If you could call it that. I've always considered bedrooms to be living spaces, full of the person they belonged to. This wasn't that. It was a space, with a bed. I floated around it all the same, looking for anything. And I found something. A book was wedged under the mattress. A journal. I slid it into my belt and moved on.

The next room doubled as a mess and bathroom. I found his toothbrush, toothpaste, soap. I wondered about the last time he had cleaned – did he know it was the last time? I couldn't find any food, so I reckoned he’d known when the end was close.

'Well, there isn’t much here. We best get back,' Benton’s voice sounded in my helmet.

'I feel bad just leaving the guy like this,' I muttered.

'He's dead, he won't care,' Daniels said.

'Let's just go. This place is giving me the creeps,' Hoffman said.

Benton went first. Hoffman and Daniels followed while I retrieved the grappling hooks. When I’d freed the strange rocket I floated after them. Benton switched frequency.

'Terrance, we're coming in,' she said.

She got to the door and waited for the green light from Terrance. Then she opened the outer hatch and floated in. I came in last. Just before I closed the hatch I took one last look at the darkness.

Pauls and Terrance were waiting for us on the other side of the airlock and once we shed our suits we all floated into the mess and strapped ourselves down around the table.

'So?' Pauls asked.

'We found a man,’ Benton reported. ‘Dead. Human.' She still looked bemused. Stunned by the discovery.

'Human? But that isn't possible. Ours is the only–'

'There's no way to know for certain that ours was the only launch,' Daniels interrupted. 'This rocket... it felt old. It could have been an earlier launch, a failure, something that was hushed up. It wouldn't be the first time.'

We all nodded in agreement but I could see how uneasy the discovery of a man made everyone. An alien would have been easier to understand. It would have made more sense to us.

'Well, we have the log and video files, maybe we should look there for answers before we start speculating,' I said. At the time I wasn't sure why I didn't mention the journal too, but I have a better idea about that now. I think I felt like I knew him somehow. I knew him and none of the others could.

Benton pulled out the log and spread it over the table. Just glancing through it, it appeared incomprehensible. It had been written in some kind of code that none of us recognised. We persevered for a few minutes before giving up. Benton pushed the log over to Pauls.

'Maybe when you get a chance you can solve this. It's the kind of puzzle you enjoy.'

Then she unstrapped and floated to the console. She plugged in the video chip and selected the first file. The pilot's face filled the screen.

Begin recording. Success! We've made it out of the atmosphere alive! This is it – the journey of a lifetime begins now. Just me and Oates. End recording.

'That's it?' Daniels asked.

'That's the first file,' Benton said. 'Hang on, here's the second.'

Begin recording. Oates is having a time of it. I've been out a few times to make repairs. I didn't bring enough materials for this kind of work. I stripped some of the interior to patch the outer surface. The work is... Oh fuck it. End recording.

'That's... really weird,' said Hoffman.

Benton played the third file.

Oates has stopped speaking to me.

The fourth.

It's really quite remarkable. It's remarkable. Remarkable.

The fifth.

Oh shit, I wasn't – bloody – SWITCH OFF!

The next few files were seconds-long blips of nothing. The twelfth was the only substantial piece.

Begin recording. It was worth it. It was everything I had hoped it would be. I feel... right. Right with everything. End recording.

'That's the last one.'

Pauls let out a low whistle.

'Well, he seemed pretty bonkers.'

'His videos didn't appear to be for anyone. The way he was talking, it felt like there was no one behind the journey,' Terrance said.

'Are you saying that he did this on his own?' Benton asked.

Terrance looked at me.

'What do you think, Shephard?'

I didn't know anything for sure, but I felt like he was right.

'The way the rocket looks: its simplicity, its cobbled together materials... it could have been a solo project.'

'But how would he have launched it?' asked Pauls.

I shrugged.

'He could have been one of those rich nut jobs. Like Howard Hughes,' Daniels said.

I looked at her. There was no malice in her but she had this way of expressing herself that grated on me. I couldn't explain why but I really wanted to smack her just then. She noticed me looking at her.

'What?'

I shook my head and looked at Benton.

'Daniels is right – if he was wealthy enough he could have organised a launch himself. Alternatively, he could have just been a remarkably resourceful and clever engineer. The rocket does have a homemade feel to it. We should send an inquiry back to Earth. Someone might know something, or at least might have heard some rumours. A rocket can't just launch into space unnoticed, unrecorded. Someone must remember something about it.'

'Good point,' Benton said. 'I'll prep a message.'

'Do you really think asking Earth is worth our while?' Hoffman asked. 'By the time they get the message, come up with an answer, and send that answer back to us, two months will’ve passed. At best.'

'Is there any harm in asking?' Benton said.

Hoffman shrugged. 'I guess not. Fine. '

'Just get on with your regular routines,' Benton said, chivvying us into action.

'Aye aye, Cap'n.'

Benton rolled her eyes then floated to the control room. Daniels made her way to the exercise chamber. Hoffman drifted to his room, most likely to play video games. Pauls bent over the dead pilot's log. That left me and Terrance.

'You okay?' he asked. I nodded. 'You seem... subdued.'

'No, I'm okay. Just thinking about that pilot. It was weird seeing him on those files. Weird seeing him so animated. On the ship he looked so peaceful, but in the videos he has a kind of fire. At least in the first couple. It was weird.'

Terrance nodded.

'I kind of wish I had come over with you.'

'Really?'

'I'm just curious. And I want to know what you saw. I wish I'd seen it too.'

I remember thinking then: we can't share everything, but I didn't say that to him. Maybe I should have.

I left him in the mess, floated down to our room and locked myself in. I let myself float free and I took out the pilot's journal. I noticed that there were no dates anywhere, but then dates don't matter when space is involved. I began to read.

I lay on the summit of Ben Hope and I looked up at the sky. It was darkening and the air was as clear as I had ever seen it. I felt the cold seep in through my clothes. There was something comforting in it. I felt clean. I lay on that mountain and watched the heavens wheel above me.

The stars winked awake, and glittered down, blinking like knowing eyes and in the quiet I heard them whisper.

'Come,' they said. 'Come.'

But it wasn't the stars that were pulling me in. It was the spaces between them, the darkness, the emptiness, it was dragging at me like a magnet, tugging at my soul, telling me that there was ground yet untrodden, a place for me to trample the first path.

I have been everywhere I can go. I have followed others into the hidden places, seen what few eyes have seen, but always someone's eyes have seen them first. I haven't been alone – the ghosts of those who came before crowd in on me, looking over my shoulders and pointing out what they fear I might miss.

'Look,' they say. 'This is where we met disaster.'

'Look,' they say. 'This is where we made the first sighting of that species.'

'Look,' they say. 'This is where we made the first sapien footprint.'

And they laugh excitedly, pleased with the knowledge of their success.

But that night, on Ben Hope, the ghosts were quiet. Only the heavens spoke and I knew where I could find my peace.

I will do it. People have doubted me before, but I’ve always proved them wrong. It may seem like an impossible task but I will find a way.

His writing was stilted, overly formal, as though it wasn't really a journal but a clumsy attempt at a memoir. Despite this the journal held me. Maybe it was less because of the words and more because of the memory of how the pilot had looked but, whatever it was, I kept reading.

I think I am starting to get my head around it but it hasn't been easy. The early experiments were disasters, of course, but if I’m honest I don't believe anyone could have achieved what I have in so short a time. I'm a man possessed. I wonder that I never thought to study aeronautics when I was younger; too lost, I suppose, in the wonder of exploration, trying to find peace on Earth when I could have been preparing for the journey ahead of me. It doesn't matter now. Now I am on the right path.

...

The money is running out. I am reduced to hunting for scraps wherever I can find them. I can only pray that whatever I come up with will hold.

...

Oates is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. The ghosts at my shoulders don't know what to say when they look at him. He is totally unique. When I run my hand over his surfaces he whispers to me. He wants to fly. He is ready. There is no fear in me. I feel full of a joy I can barely contain. I have affairs to settle yet, otherwise I would be gone. There is Louisa to think of. But I will not say goodbye to her. She'll find it too hard and I... I won't find it hard enough. I know I should care more, but there is nothing in my mind but what is coming.

...

It is impossible to really explain the exhilaration of take off. That power beneath me – I was sitting on extraordinary power: engine, fuel, hope, and it throbbed through me until my whole body pulsated. The g-force sent me into ecstasies and I lost myself as we broke through Earth's atmosphere.

...

Oates is holding himself together nicely. I have never been so proud of someone. I love him more than I have loved anyone before. And yet my eyes are always on the darkness. I am out in the depths! I am further than the moon! I am sailing away from the solar system. I am striking forth into the absolute unknown. There is no path here. I am the first soul, the explorer, I am the ghost at the shoulders of future space travellers. I say:

'Look! See that space of nothing before you? I saw it first, that emptiness was mine for a moment and it will live in me for all time.'

The stars wink at me still; still so knowing, still enticing, but the quiet between them is where I thrive. If I could have my way I would stay in my suit forever and simply float on beside Oates, taking up a little bit of that nothing.

...

I am repairing Oates as rapidly as I can, but I fear he has reached his limits. He is dying and I feel devastated. He barely speaks anymore. I am beginning to feel the true extent of how alone I am now. I hadn't thought of it before. The emptiness mocks me now. I never really noticed how dark it was. And the stars are flashing smiles at me, hard and cruel.

Oh rubbish! I am full of it – this rubbish, I was always so full of it! Who am I writing for now? You – space-traveller – am I the ghost at your shoulder yet? Have you longed for the nothing as I have? Turn back! Be quiet, Alistair, what is the use of talking when you talk to no one but yourself? I am afraid to stop the pen though – this scratching is the only other companion I have apart from Oates. If I stop talking, the emptiness will come in. All that stops it is the skin on Oates – his rapidly disintegrating skin. And so I write on – this nonsense, this unending nonsense; what can I focus on to keep the nothing at bay? Perhaps I write a word over and over and over, what word do I choose? Oates? Alistair? Earth? Home? Companion? Ghost? First? Last? Nothing? Nothing? Nothing? Nothing? Nothing? Nothing? Nothing? Nothing? Nothing? Nothing? Nothing?

Pages of 'Nothing?' I flicked through pages and pages of nothing and I read every single word on them. Each 'Nothing?' was mine. And then I reached the last page.

Oates has fallen silent. In truth, I am rather relieved. It is time for me to face what I have done. I was selfish. Ever since I was a child I have been selfish. I never knew what drove me, I never stopped to wonder why I needed more than what I had, but now I see. I am the emptiness. It pleases me. But Oates has wormed his way into my heart and for some strange reason I cannot leave him. I know what I should do: I should suit up and go on alone, but I just can't. This time I have to accept failure. At the very end I failed. I wonder if we all do? Since I cannot fulfil my purpose there is not much point in continuing.

That was it. The end of Alistair, cause of death: failure. Every connection I had felt link me to him had been false. He didn't understand the space outside. But reading his journal helped me understand something. I truly did come this far so that I could explore those spaces between the stars. I came this far to be weightless.

I abandoned the journal and floated from the room, heading straight to the airlock. No one saw me until it was too late. Terrance, coming from the cockpit, noticed the closed hatch and looked in through the window. He saw me suiting up and banged on the door. When I saw him I smiled because I knew that was the kind of expression he would want to remember. He left the door, went to the cockpit, and took over the intercom.

'Shephard! What are you doing, Shephard? You're not authorised to leave Bertha! Stop what you're doing and report to the cockpit.'

I put the MMU on and as I clicked the straps into place I heard other voices come in.

'What's going on, Terrance?' That was Benton.

'Shephard's in the airlock suiting up. She's going out.'

'What's happening?' Daniels asked.

'Get Pauls, he may be able to override the lock on the inner hatch.' Benton said, taking control.

'What's happened?' asked Hoffman.

'PAULS!'

I clicked my helmet into place and I drifted to the outer hatch.

'PAULS! COME QUICKLY!' Terrance shouted.

Dear sweet Terrance.

I turned the wheel, unlocking the outer hatch. It released and I pushed it open. Oates was drifting close by. Beyond him and on all sides was black, space, emptiness, absence, quiet, peace, all of the many things I had come to see in a piece of nothing.

'Shephard! Shephard! Come on, Shephard, answer me!' Terrance called into my helmet.

'Goodbye Terrance,' I said.

'Shep–' I changed the frequency, cutting him off.

I launched myself into space and adjusted the thrusters of the MMU. I drifted around to the front of Bertha, but I didn't look in. I knew the others would be watching me. I depressed the controls for maximum acceleration and I shot forwards. I sailed into the nothing. Stars glittered and winked. I aimed for the spaces between them. Untethered, I left Bertha, Oates, Alistair and my crew behind. I felt weightless.

Am I the ghost at your shoulders? Go forwards!

End Recording.