The command room of Border Base 3275 was dim, with long shadows across its alien walls. The only sounds were machines humming softly and indicator lights beeping. The air felt heavy with sadness, reflecting how long its only occupant had been alone.
Thon'ts Glant'hz, the base's commander, stood alone, his tall figure now bent with age. His skin, which used to be a bright blue-green, had faded to pale turquoise over hundreds of years. The bioluminescent patterns that once danced beautifully across his skin now flickered weakly, like dying stars. His many-faceted eyes reflected the light, filled with a sadness that seemed centuries old.
He took a deep breath, feeling time's weight pressing down on him. His outer shell creaked softly when he moved, reminding him of his age. With a motion he'd made countless times before, he turned on the recording device built into the room's main console.
"Personal log of Thon'ts Glant'hz, commander of Border Base 3275. Date ... doesn't matter." He shook his head. Time had lost its meaning in this lonely outpost. "No, let me start again."
Thon'ts straightened his shoulders, his ears twitching as he collected his thoughts. "I am Thon'ts Glant'hz, commander of Border Base 3275. I'm making this record for those who might come after us, to show we existed and tell of our lonely journey through the stars."
He stopped to drink from a container of thick, dark liquid that kept him alive. It tasted bitter, mixing nutrients and stimulants his old body needed. He barely noticed the taste anymore. The loneliness felt worse, creeping into every part of him.
"My people, the Ton'Ta, were once happy, hopeful, and curious," he continued, his voice still carrying a hint of how his people used to sound when they spoke. "But time has changed us deeply. It's been 38,371 years since we first ventured into space from our home world, Vannga."
He remembered something else. "You might have trouble understanding that. One year is how long our world, Vannga, takes to go around its sun. It's a bit longer than what the fourth planet in this system needs for its rotation."
His eyes looked far away as he recalled those early days. "Those were times filled with great hope. We believed we weren't alone in the universe, that we would find other thinking beings to talk to, share what we discovered, and learn the universe's secrets together. Our scientists worked tirelessly, creating machines that would carry us beyond our world."
Thon'ts paused, letting the memories wash over him. The excitement of those early days felt almost real, so different from the emptiness surrounding him now.
"Our home world, Vannga, is almost fifteen thousand light-years from here," he continued, his voice filled with longing. "It was both where we began and where we ended. It was beautiful, with vast purple oceans and land covered in bright, shining plants. Our cities were amazing, employing living technology that blended perfectly with nature."
His ears trembled as he recalled how his home world looked and sounded. "The air was always full of singing birds, their songs reminding us of all the life around us. Our people would gather in large open theaters, their glowing skin patterns creating beautiful light shows as they discussed grand ideas, science, and art."
Thon'ts shook his head, coming back to the present. "I'm babbling. I need to be clearer."
Still shaking his head, he continued, "Those days are long gone. It took us more than four hundred years to leave our home system, and another five hundred years to make faster-than-light travel work and reach the nearest stars."
Standing up, his large body moving slowly, he walked to the window. The stars outside looked cold and distant, nothing like the welcoming lights they once seemed to be.
"We found many worlds we could live on," he said, his voice echoing in the empty room. "At first, this made us happy. We started colonies and spread out, turning dead worlds into places full of life. But as years turned into thousands of years, we realized something was missing. We found no other intelligent beings, no one to share our discoveries with."
His mind went back to when he was young. He had been just half a century old then, excited about finding new things.
"I remember my first trip as a young science officer," he said, a small smile crossing his face. "We found a world full of life, simple but varied. I spent many rotations documenting new species, each one amazing in its own way. But even though these discoveries were interesting, they couldn't fill the void left by not finding intelligent life."
He turned back to the recording device, his voice growing heavier. "We started exploring nearby star systems, eager to find friends, allies, civilizations as advanced as we were or more advanced. We established colonies on suitable planets, first a few, then more. Over time, we spread to tens of thousands of worlds."
Thon'ts stopped, his ears drooping slightly. "But even though we spread out so quickly, our hopes were crushed. We found a simple life, but no one intelligent enough to communicate with. As we kept searching, our loneliness grew heavier. We spread over ten thousand light years in all directions from Vannga but found only silence."
He took a few steps around the room, stretching his long, strong limbs. The years at this faraway base had worn him down, but his body still showed hints of the strength that once made him a great explorer.
"We began to feel like the only voice in empty space," he continued, speaking barely above a whisper. "Our loneliness deepened with each passing year. The joy of finding new things slowly transformed into creeping sadness."
Deciding to sit down again, looking thoughtful, he settled into the chair.
"Finally, we stopped expanding and ceased looking for intelligent life," he said, his voice heavy with regret. "It hurt too much to keep going, knowing we were alone. Time passed, and nothing changed. We remained isolated, the only civilization in the vast emptiness of the galaxy."
He paused, taking another drink of the bitter liquid that sustained him. The taste reminded him of the drinks from Vannga, bringing back memories of all that was lost.
"But we were wrong," he went on, his voice revealing a hint of excitement. "We found clues, faint signs of civilizations long gone. The signs weren't clear, and many thought they were just tricks or natural phenomena. The most famous was the Konkart conspiracy, a supposed discovery that turned out to be fake."
His eyes seemed to shine as he remembered the argument. "I remember the uproar when we first detected the Konkart signals. For a short time, it seemed our long loneliness would end. But as we looked closer, we found things that didn't make sense. In the end, we learned it was all made up by a group trying to get us excited about exploring again."
He shook his head, the memory still hurting after all these years. "The disappointment crushed us. Many lost faith in our search, thinking it was pointless. But there were other findings, real ones, that everyone dismissed as fake after the Konkart incident. Despite these setbacks, some still had hope, while others started to doubt. Were we really alone?"
As he leaned back in his chair, memories of his youth came flooding back. The dim lights cast shadows on his wrinkled brow, showing signs of age on his once-smooth outer shell.
"Vannga, my home world, was full of life and energy," he continued, his voice filled with longing. "The skies were a deep purple, with clouds that glowed soft gold in the sunlight. Huge purple oceans teeming with life stood out against the bright green land."
His eyes closed as he lost himself in the memory. "I can still see Vannga's busy cities. The buildings were both functional and beautiful, with tall towers that seemed to reach for the stars. Living buildings grew and changed to fit our needs, their surfaces covered in glowing patterns that pulsed with the vibrancy of city life ... I'm babbling again ... uhhh."
A sad smile pulled at his mouth. "The streets were full of Ton'Ta of all ages, their black fur on blue-green skin shining in the light as they went about their daily lives. You could almost hear children laughing and people chatting all around. The smell of our world's special plants, sweet and spicy, was always in the air."
His ears twitched as he remembered his youth. "Back then, I was young and eager, wanting to join those who explored the unknown. The Space Academy on Vannga was my gateway to the stars. I remember the rigorous training, the friendships among students, and the excitement of my first mission."
"We were so hopeful then," he whispered to himself. "For us, every new discovery was worth celebrating. Each new planet might hold friends and allies waiting. The universe seemed endless, full of possibilities."
His thoughts drifted back to his start in the space program. "My first command was a small exploration ship called Vandar. Our job was to search for planets where people could live. My crew and I were so excited, mapping new worlds and cataloging all the alien plants and animals we found. We even discovered simple life forms, though none were smart enough to communicate."
He opened his eyes, seeing the command room of the base once again. The base demonstrated how advanced the Ton'Ta were, with its complex systems and state-of-the-art equipment. Yet it felt empty, a remnant of a past filled with broken dreams.
"But as years turned into centuries, our excitement faded," he said, his voice heavy with the weight of time. "Each new empty planet or simple life form we found reminded us how alone we were. The early thrill of exploration transformed into deep loneliness."
He stood up, walking to a screen that displayed a map of all the space the Ton'Ta knew. Their territory was vast but seemed small and insignificant against the expanse of the galaxy.
"We spread out more, built exploring fleets, and established some exploration bases," he said. "But in the end, it wasn't an outside threat that brought us down. It was loneliness."
He sighed deeply, the sound echoing in the empty room. "I'm getting tired. The weight of being alone is heavy. I'll stop recording for now and continue after I rest."
With a heavy heart, he turned off the recording device. The lights dimmed, and the command room grew quiet again. He walked to his sleeping quarters, each step revealing his age.
As he prepared to rest, his mind lingered on the vast, empty universe around him. He was the last guard, preserving his people's memory. In the stillness of his room, he allowed himself to be vulnerable for a moment, letting one tear fall.
"Are we really the last ones?" he whispered to the emptiness. "Or is someone out there, waiting to be found?"
With that thought, Thon'ts Glant'hz settled in to rest, dreaming of his once-bright civilization behind closed eyes. The base hummed quietly around him, a lonely light in the endless night of space, waiting for an answer that might never come.