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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8a3-1TgyB6k
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[i]Year 2555. First contact.
Star: Wolf 359
Planet: D-3353
7.9 Light Years from Earth.
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	"Things are far more serious than I suspect you've been told - P-people are dying up here...."
	"And that isn't the end. Well how did this all happen?"
	"We've been completely cut off from earth! -... Any chance of restoring contact?"
	"Very little, sir. We've lost all direct communication."


Doctor Carlisle bobbed her head gently in tune with the light beats of early 21st century artist Deca. One of the many musicians from that long bygone age which appeared on her spinning record. They could get no radio waves this far out so most on the Samurai played their music on manual recorders. Re-creations of ancient technology which played music recorded live and kept in dimples and scratches, rather than the data cloud. Jane had come to prefer it over the perfect imitations that the music player in the lobby made, or perhaps it was the solitude she enjoyed more. The three year trip across the Milky Way and its LPP's (Life Probability planets) was admittedly spent in stasis and sleep the vast majority of the time but whenever the crew on the Samurai reached one of the planets, like they had now, they woke and excitedly set to their projects and tasks. The Captain and his lieutenants were all scientists and astronauts. Trained, specified and quite literally bred for the task of space travel they commanded engineers, technicians and pilots who scuttled across the narrow spaces of their vessel to ensure the cold choke of Space was not at risk tearing everyone apart or that there was no course of collision in either dense packs of dust or some moon, planet or asteroid torn apart by the pull of gravity. There were geologists, mathematicians, astronomers and even military journalists. These were all busy as well, mingling and sharing the findings of their probes which combed the Wolf Solar system while they had been asleep. Recording their findings and submitting them back to the Samurai's research center. 

Cornering the vast and modern system of science and math was a lonely cranny cramped with books, papers, sunflowers of every size, the casual beats of musicians decades dead and finally the interim Doctor of Anthropology; Jane Carlisle of Scotland. Carlisle sat hunched over a flippable writing pad, bobbing her head by natural instinct to the music while writing her limited report on the blue shining screen on her desk. There was a keyboard to use built inside the clean sterile white desk but she preferred the graphic pencil when writing and during her fifty years of working as both a researcher and professor of anthropology all of her studies and papers had been made by human hands directly. A fact she proudly flaunted in a studious culture which became more and more reliant on machines to do their work for them by the year. - Especially archaeologists. Carlisle had avoided most contact with her fellow researchers since the post-waking briefing and now sat in her little corner of the ship, humming along to the tunes which sounded in her cramp office.



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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t6a3Wy1aOPQ
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As the song finished and the record scratched faintly in changing song Jane kicked her feet back from the desk, watching her pad from a distance. The report was theoretical only and contained nothing of great interest. The biologists and herbalists had their findings from the last two planets, rich with flora and simple organisms but Carlisle as the only anthropologists on board had absolutely nothing to show so far. Not that it bothered her much. She knew that the chance of finding sentient life, or life at all on any planet in our galaxy was far too slim. Hardly large enough a chance to warrant her being here at all but here she was. Almost eight light years away from planet Earth and all of its people, culture and wonder, all in the vain hope that someday, somehow their vessel would stumble upon life worthy of researching in any way. Or at least note down. Jane let her chair swivel. Spinning around the center of her small office slowly. She saw her many pots of sunflowers, her plain yet comfortable bed tucked inside the wall, her stacks of human literature and the shelf where she had both her record player and a small plastic figure of her favourite 21st century icon; Godzilla. King of Monsters. Jane planted her slipper-wearing feet down on the ground and watched the figure while blankly listening to Bowie jerk his guitar off with that nonchalant and gritty suaveness his brand of music created. The lizard looked straight ahead, dead plastic eyes locked on some distant past where it was from. A past which Carlisle had researched and studied beyond most anthropologists her age. It was in thinking about these cultural steps of history that Carlisle so often found herself since there was little actual purpose to her being on the ship in the first place. *BEEPRI-BOOP* chirped a soft alarm from her right - Without pausing her playing music the doctor turned on her swiveling chair and faced the small outlet on the wall which made the chirping sound. Jane patted the round peg with her hand and received the call.
	"Doctor Carlisle?" Said the male voice from within the outlet. Jane did recognize the voice of Captain Nadir though even if she did not the outlet had displayed caller ID and rank already. Jane blinked in minor confusion at the call and for a moment wondered if the captain had gotten the wrong Doctor Carlisle. Bowie extravagantly flaunted in the backdrop of her room and her mind.
	"Doctor?" Nadir repeated in higher tone of questioning. Jane immediately corrected her uniform, or she would have had she worn one. Instead she corrected the white wool sweater she wore and set her face closer to the outlet.
	"Aye, Cap'n?" She said. They'd told her to say 'yes' but she would not betray her cultural heritage just yet and not so easily.
	"We need you up here. You've five minutes." Nadir stated in command and the moment Jane could mutter her incoherent reply of:
	"Eh-.. Oh-.. Alright then..." he spoke once more.
	"Good." And then the captain shut the link off and left Doctor Carlisle to herself again.
Jane scooped up the closest lab coat of white and blue, designated to all scientists of the vessel and threw it over her casual wear, she tied up her gray frizzy hair in a pathetically prompt bun and exited her office. Which soon blared with the sounds of Michael Jackson.