IainRichmond
Active Member
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2011
- Messages
- 27
Thrusters rumbled and clawed as they fought to slow the iron beast down. The angry star continued to spit fire and heat in all directions, not sure who or what to lash out at, only that the flaming mass sat alone in a sea of darkness. Steel plates shuttered and shrieked as heat and cold tried to find balance.
“All most there old friend,” he whispered as he continued towards the cratered sphere that felt like home. He began to wipe the grit off his screen, pausing to look at his backlit hand. Three long, wrinkled fingers and a thumb so large, it had no business being attached. He continued the motion as the red dust cleared and the screen shown bright once more.
He wiped his hands on the lower part of his single piece uniform, leaving two long, fading streaks towards the floor. Sitting up straight, he pushed his back hard against the chair and stretched his long, muscled limbs in four directions. A noticeable sigh escaped his toothy grin as he brought his arms and legs back to their resting place.
She’s getting old, he thought, as the ship finally reached a full, clattering stop. “We have been together since the voyages began,” he said as he trailed a loving hand down a panel of lights.
He adjusted the controls to keep her just on the warm side of the pocked rock as it traveled around the blue planet. The last time they were here, there were no satellites or what looked to be an early space station. He shook his sizeable head at the shear amount of trash that spun endlessly around the beautiful world. “We expected more for you;” he spoke to the planet itself, “so much more.”
Debris clanked off the hull plating as the ship held its pilots favorite vantage, firing off a port thruster here and bow thruster there. Reaching up, he gently pushed the release button, the straps retracted and he rose to his feet.
“This is the last time old friend, we may only have a short time to say goodbye, but we will soon see.” He felt an odd silence in these words, a sadness filled with regret, his last voyage to this new system.
I should have come more often, he thought. I should have spent more time with you. He worked his way out of the cozy cockpit and pushed through the narrow corridor that led to a slender ladder leading to the viewing area.
“She still fits like a glove, but then again she should, she was designed for my body and for my purpose,” he mumbled as his broad shoulders brushed along the walls. Each rung was worn and smooth. The glimmer had long disappeared, replaced by a warm, dull glow where hands and feet had been thousands of times.
Effortlessly pulling himself up the rungs and through the tube, he entered his study. A crystal clear bubble with a desk in the center, surrounded by steel cases of equipment, it was as close as he would ever come to floating in free space. He opened the nearest box and withdrew a long telescope. With gentle speed the device was in position.
Oxygen rich, water greater than land, the mix was perfect, he thought, and utterly wasted. A sense of helplessness coursed through his body and lingered in his mind. High hopes, maybe too high, he pondered as he reached the desk and the seat that intimately knew every centimeter of its cargo.
“Lights.” The bubble flooded with intense, white light. “Viewing light!” he yelled, his arm shielding aching eyes. The light dispersed into a soft, warm glow.
As he gently found his seat, a small panel near his hands slid open. He tapped on the data pad, bringing up his final work order. As he scanned the hologram now floating in front of him, he once again felt sorrow take hold of his mind and heart. He stood and slowly made his way to his favorite telescope.
So many worlds, he thought, so many intimate scenes of love and hate we have shared. Pulling a soft cloth out of a singular pocket near his chest, he wiped the red dust from the lens and placed the cloth back in its pouch.
He positioned his hand on the large cylinder near the eyepiece, a routine he had done a thousand times before. But this is the last, he thought. After a few moments the steel began to hum and the lens gave off an amber glow. He entered the first pair of numbers and looked through the eyepiece.
After he had finished viewing the required forty sets of coordinates, he gently put the telescope back into the steel case and slowly walked back to his seat behind the desk. Tears silently streamed down his smooth, hairless face as he began entering his findings.
ALL THAT I HAVE DOCUMENTED OVER THE PAST CENTURIES SHOWS A PATTERN SET IN THE DNA OF THIS CIVILIZATION. IN TIME, ALL WILL BE LOST DUE TO THEIR INABILITY TO EVOLVE BEYOND THEIR VIOLENT INSTINCTS. WITH GREAT REGRET, I AM IN FULL AGREEMENT WITH YOUR FINAL DECISION.
He flashed the data packet and waited for the response. Only a few moments passed and the screen lit up.
INITIATE PROTOCOL 110101101
He worked his way back to the cockpit and strapped himself into his chair. The controls felt cold to his touch as he punched the protocol code into the system. A rod extended from control panel, a small green switch at its end. Steel plates groaned under the torque as the engines fought to push the ship into its desired position.
“Good by old friend, I wish things could have been different this time.” He took a moment to reflect on how close they had come so many times before. Something about the planet, he thought. Maybe the ease in which it supports life makes it too difficult for these civilizations to understand how precious this world is.
He closed his eyes and flipped the green switch. Silently, the rod retracted back into the console. Blackness took the ship as every system went dark and silent as something within it hungered for every last bit of energy. A flash lit the bow as a white ball flew from the ship, heading towards the Blue Planet, the world with so much possibility, maybe too much.
“the END”
“All most there old friend,” he whispered as he continued towards the cratered sphere that felt like home. He began to wipe the grit off his screen, pausing to look at his backlit hand. Three long, wrinkled fingers and a thumb so large, it had no business being attached. He continued the motion as the red dust cleared and the screen shown bright once more.
He wiped his hands on the lower part of his single piece uniform, leaving two long, fading streaks towards the floor. Sitting up straight, he pushed his back hard against the chair and stretched his long, muscled limbs in four directions. A noticeable sigh escaped his toothy grin as he brought his arms and legs back to their resting place.
She’s getting old, he thought, as the ship finally reached a full, clattering stop. “We have been together since the voyages began,” he said as he trailed a loving hand down a panel of lights.
He adjusted the controls to keep her just on the warm side of the pocked rock as it traveled around the blue planet. The last time they were here, there were no satellites or what looked to be an early space station. He shook his sizeable head at the shear amount of trash that spun endlessly around the beautiful world. “We expected more for you;” he spoke to the planet itself, “so much more.”
Debris clanked off the hull plating as the ship held its pilots favorite vantage, firing off a port thruster here and bow thruster there. Reaching up, he gently pushed the release button, the straps retracted and he rose to his feet.
“This is the last time old friend, we may only have a short time to say goodbye, but we will soon see.” He felt an odd silence in these words, a sadness filled with regret, his last voyage to this new system.
I should have come more often, he thought. I should have spent more time with you. He worked his way out of the cozy cockpit and pushed through the narrow corridor that led to a slender ladder leading to the viewing area.
“She still fits like a glove, but then again she should, she was designed for my body and for my purpose,” he mumbled as his broad shoulders brushed along the walls. Each rung was worn and smooth. The glimmer had long disappeared, replaced by a warm, dull glow where hands and feet had been thousands of times.
Effortlessly pulling himself up the rungs and through the tube, he entered his study. A crystal clear bubble with a desk in the center, surrounded by steel cases of equipment, it was as close as he would ever come to floating in free space. He opened the nearest box and withdrew a long telescope. With gentle speed the device was in position.
Oxygen rich, water greater than land, the mix was perfect, he thought, and utterly wasted. A sense of helplessness coursed through his body and lingered in his mind. High hopes, maybe too high, he pondered as he reached the desk and the seat that intimately knew every centimeter of its cargo.
“Lights.” The bubble flooded with intense, white light. “Viewing light!” he yelled, his arm shielding aching eyes. The light dispersed into a soft, warm glow.
As he gently found his seat, a small panel near his hands slid open. He tapped on the data pad, bringing up his final work order. As he scanned the hologram now floating in front of him, he once again felt sorrow take hold of his mind and heart. He stood and slowly made his way to his favorite telescope.
So many worlds, he thought, so many intimate scenes of love and hate we have shared. Pulling a soft cloth out of a singular pocket near his chest, he wiped the red dust from the lens and placed the cloth back in its pouch.
He positioned his hand on the large cylinder near the eyepiece, a routine he had done a thousand times before. But this is the last, he thought. After a few moments the steel began to hum and the lens gave off an amber glow. He entered the first pair of numbers and looked through the eyepiece.
After he had finished viewing the required forty sets of coordinates, he gently put the telescope back into the steel case and slowly walked back to his seat behind the desk. Tears silently streamed down his smooth, hairless face as he began entering his findings.
- Twenty-five armed conflicts spread across the planet, heavily focused on nations with substantial economic inequity.
- Thirty percent of the planets ecosystems have been destroyed.
- Forty-Five percent of the planets remaining ecosystems are heavily damaged.
ALL THAT I HAVE DOCUMENTED OVER THE PAST CENTURIES SHOWS A PATTERN SET IN THE DNA OF THIS CIVILIZATION. IN TIME, ALL WILL BE LOST DUE TO THEIR INABILITY TO EVOLVE BEYOND THEIR VIOLENT INSTINCTS. WITH GREAT REGRET, I AM IN FULL AGREEMENT WITH YOUR FINAL DECISION.
He flashed the data packet and waited for the response. Only a few moments passed and the screen lit up.
INITIATE PROTOCOL 110101101
He worked his way back to the cockpit and strapped himself into his chair. The controls felt cold to his touch as he punched the protocol code into the system. A rod extended from control panel, a small green switch at its end. Steel plates groaned under the torque as the engines fought to push the ship into its desired position.
“Good by old friend, I wish things could have been different this time.” He took a moment to reflect on how close they had come so many times before. Something about the planet, he thought. Maybe the ease in which it supports life makes it too difficult for these civilizations to understand how precious this world is.
He closed his eyes and flipped the green switch. Silently, the rod retracted back into the console. Blackness took the ship as every system went dark and silent as something within it hungered for every last bit of energy. A flash lit the bow as a white ball flew from the ship, heading towards the Blue Planet, the world with so much possibility, maybe too much.
“the END”
