Below is a lil prose-ish bit that I did for my RPG. I've also decided on a system to crib off of (Fate, for those in the know) for rules and a basic layout of a character sheet.

Quiet Stars

The year is 2199. A sense of optimism, reminiscent of the surge of pride when Neil Armstrong first stepped on Luna, gripped the entire solar system. Earth, Luna, Mars and the Belt colonies all came together to assemble the most auspicious endeavor of the species to date. To colonize another star system. The worlds of Eden Prime were selected from the tens of thousands of candidates because of the unique bounty of their system. Three worlds were found within the habitable zone of the star of Eden Prime. Three worlds that, after prolonged radio-astronomical survey and an unmanned probe flyby, were determined to have nitrogen/oxygen atmospheres, free liquid water, and enough gravity to keep human physiology functioning within normal limits. The system has everything a newly elevated civilization could want, three habitable worlds, a dense asteroid belt rich with untold gigatons of valuable ore, a pair of guardian gas giants that kept the system clear of wandering planet killers.

In the spring of 2201 the First Expedition to Eden Prime launched from its deep space logistical rendezvous point, out near the particularly large piece of rock known as Pluto. Three thousand of our best and brightest, aboard three of the most massive vessels then known to humankind. Some bright spark, no one is still sure who suggested the names. The Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria. Three thousand souls left for a fifty year journey through deep space to begin the next chapter of the story of Humanity, where we finally take our first steps beyond the solar system and establish ourselves firmly as an interstellar presence in the galaxy.

[-- Addendum: Static Image File - Deep Space Logistical Rendezvous Alpha 011214.xft]

[-- Description: Deep Space Logistical Rendezvous Alpha ‘Appian Way’ is pictured at a distance. It is an open void space dock, approximately 5 km long at its broadest point. Near-space swarms with micro-RCS autonomous drones moving tools, materiel and technicians around the skeletal structure of the station. Three massive ships in various stages of completion hang from the framework like stalactites over the yawning emptiness of interstellar space. One is bare foam-steel superstructure and engine shrouds, large sections of deck plating as well as interior and exterior hull sections floating in an orderly procession nearby, gently shepherded into place by fleets of dedicated tug-drones with firm, padded grips. One appears to be near completion, a lambent glow from it’s reactor exhaust and the periodic deep tremor from grav-plate testing a dead giveaway for a vessel in the phases of final shakedown before launch, even as it’s cargo bays remain open highways for a constant stream of drones loaded with void-sealed deliveries.]

It was expected that real-time communication would drop off soon after the ships departed due to the distance and doppler shift problem of sub-lightspeed communication with ships moving a significant fraction of C. The accepted solution was a series of communication beacons that the Expedition would deploy as they made their way to Eden Prime, each set to pick up and amplify the rapidly thinning stream of data between Earth and her brave explorers. Periodic updates would have to suffice, delivered in highly compressed data dumps exchanged between the expedition and her home.

It was expected that communications would decrease in both quality and frequency over time. The problem had been well documented as far back as man’s first baby steps into interstellar space in the 1900’s when our first probes began to reach the limits of our solar system and their voices became weak and slow, our connection with them tenuous and increasingly limited.

They were not expected to disappear completely.

Approximately three years into the voyage the trickle of positional data being received from the first beacon abruptly cut off mid-feed. This was not cause for immediate alarm. Contingencies such as this one had been planned for, plans put in place. Drone repair ships, capable of acceleration and deceleration curves that would turn a human body to paste rode laser assisted solar sails to reach the first beacon and repair it, only to find it functioning perfectly, receiving nothing but static and white noise from the trajectory of the first expedition, it’s digital tether effectively cut.

An emergency signal was transmitted along the hydrogen band, the frequency that penetrates deepest into the inky black at the highest possible power from our deep space comm-sat array. The message was short and simple.

‘Where are you? Can you hear us?’

The deafening silence stretched from months into years before the bells finally rang in every holy space in the solar system.

Three thousand times the bells cried out the grief of humanity as we consigned our brave explorers and a spark of our hope to the infinite, Quiet Stars.