I commend my work to any writer who can finish it.

ANDOLAS III SHIP LOGS.
INITIATING SCAN OF FRAGMENTS…
SCAN COMPLETE. THREE FILES OF NOTE RECOGNISED.
MESSAGE PLAYS:
Beep.
Thirty people running the Order’s most advanced space mission ever crewed the Andolas III: explorer. The commander and captain of the vessel stood on the bridge, eagerly awaiting the results of their journey so far.
A crackle sounded over the interpersonal comlink. A young male’s voice, no older than twenty, sounded over the brief static.
“Negative, captain,” came 544’s voice. “This one’s another dud planet. The atmosphere and size are fine, but the scanners pick up only a very small habitable zone on the equator of the planet, about three kilometres across. Even if we found a compatible animal, there’d be no way to build any meaningful civilisation.”
The commander’s usually impeccable posture slumped, and twenty-nine voices sighed as one. He was trying to keep faith, but here in the darkness of space? It was rather difficult. He sighed deeply, but straightened up, determined to carry out his mission to the end.
“Received. We’ll check out one more planet before we finish rotation.” He maintained hope. He had to. If he lost hope, then how would the rest of the team?
“Send the ship into [terafinite warp or wahtever.]
MESSAGE ENDS.

NEXT MESSAGE: LOADED.
PLAYING:
Beep.
The ship dropped out of [WARP SPEED INFINITY OR SOMETHING EQUALLY NERDY]
The planet in the viewport had little in the way of obvious life. The closest it had was some armadillo-looking creatures that, when scanned, revealed not enough meaningful similarities to humans to catalyse. Twenty-nine voices offered condolences to their captain, and turned in for the sol-synth sleep cycle.
The captain commander of the Andolas III held in one hand a portable minimap of the twelve planets he was to search for compatible life for the TerraSphere, and in the other, a glass of brandy made on the Old Earth. He studied the map intently, sighed and drank deeply from the glass. A crackle sounded over the speakers of the interpersonal comlink. “Captain?” came a crewmember’s voice.
He set down the map, and depressed his communicator. “Yes, 342?”
“When are you getting to your chamber? You know that you shouldn’t have late nights. You’re piloting a mechanical masterpiece, after all,” she teased, mimicking the tone he used in the official interviews. A smile flickered onto his face.
“I am well aware. I’ll be down to my chamber in a couple of minutes.”
“Okay,” 342 said, her voice softening almost imperceptibly. A long silence stretched, and he had thought her returned to her chamber, when suddenly she spoke again. “You’re looking at the charts again, aren’t you?” She said, almost sorrowfully. He didn’t answer.
“Just… don’t be too long. I… We need you, 112.”
A wisp of a smile ghosted onto his face. “Personal designations? How informal, 342.” The smile faded, and he sighed. “I’m finishing off now. Good-night, 342,” he said.
“Good-night, 112” came the reply through the speaker.
He set down the chart, drained the glass, and went to bed.
MESSAGE ENDS.

LOADING NEW MESSAGE:
“-And that is why, without a shadow of a doubt, NBA has gone to shit.” Came 544’s voice, full of humour.
“Language.” Snapped the commander, although he, like everyone else was fighting to keep the grin off his face. “We’re coming up on the next planet.” He stood tall again at the helm of the ship, controlling the many computers that culminated the ship’s brain. “631, scan the planet’s stats and figures. Maybe this one’ll fit.”
A snort over the intercom, and 879’s derisive voice followed it. ”Yeah. And pigs will fly.” She mocked over the intercom. Sighs sounded around the ship.
The commander ground his teeth a little. “Look, we have a mission: use the TerraSphere to stimulate human life. If/Once this happens, we give the results to the Order. This mission will spread the human genome around the galaxy and diversify the species’ genes. This will change space colonies, as we know them. Humans perfectly adapted for an environment joining the Order? It’s game-changing.”
“Sorry to interrupt, but there’s no viable life sources on the planet. Closest is some plant-based entity that has three eyes on stalks.”
The commander closed his eyes. So close, he thought. But yet so far. Same as every time.
“Sir? We’re picking up a fifth planet.” 413’s said meekly. His eyes snapped open, and he pulled up a system chart. “Negative, 413. There’s four planets here, not five. Orios B-36, B-62, B-19 and B-44. That’s it.” He fought the terrible urge to let his hopes up. A picture appeared on the monitor. A planet the computer didn’t recognise between B-36 and B-62. In the interests of the Order, I should check it out, he thought.
“Okay, we swing by there and check. It’s on the way, sort of.”
The ship’s deuterium engine flashed, and sped them towards the planet. Twenty seconds later, they closed in for an in-depth scan. It came through, flashing to every viewport on the ship. Silence stretched. “It’s smaller than Earth,” hazarded 413.
“Only one main continent, too,” said 631 carefully.
The commander shook himself. “Liquid water oceans, flora and fauna to put the Old Earth to shame and perfect temperatures form humans all across the habitats? How did we miss this?” Beautiful, he thought.
He began to speak, almost unconsciously into his comlink. “Humanity has grown and developed. We conquered the lands, seas and skies of our planet. We emerged into space, colonising planets, creating a galaxy-wide order to keep peace and prosperity. Now, humanity takes its next step among the stars. You all now witness the next era of humanity. Send the TerraSphere.”
The TerraSphere descended, and locked on to a primate-like species and sent to change their genetic code.
Inside the spacecraft, there was no noise, as everyone witnessed history in the making. The commander spoke into the comlink.
“That’s one small step for man…”
“What?” Came 879’s confused voice.
“Nothing. Ancient history.”
“Sir? The planet is one undiscovered, and unclassified. The planet needs a name. Would you…?”
Tears formed in the commander’s eyes. Him? He nodded, thinking. The constellation was called Orion. “Orios Prime,” he said, smiling.

MESSAGE ENDS.
END OF MESSAGES.
SESSION TERMINATES.