I had a story in mind for #155 but just didn’t get around to writing and posting it at the time. So why not combine them, I thought. I have seen Dale do it, so there… 😉
The CCC challenge is open for everyone and asks for creative responses like flash-fic stories, poems, pictures, captions, and, and, and… check it out!
The hab-stations look like shining ferris wheels against the blackness of space and are the most beautiful sight in the world when you get back from a mission. They are the hottest real estate in the solar system right now.
We cannot go home for at least two centuries. After having nearly destroyed Earth, we chose evacuation to give the planet time to regenerate and let nature run its course.
A few scientific expeditions are permitted, nothing more.
I’m among those who enforce the quarantine, surveying my section from my shuttle in low orbit.
Occasionally an unlicensed ship enters my scanning range: smugglers, poachers, planet-wreckers or fanatics. I always warn them and order them back to the habitats. Sometimes they listen, this one here doesn’t though. I warn them again.
No response. They enter the atmosphere. I activate the defence grid.
The explosion looks like starburst fireworks from up here.
The Good Life
I’ve exterminated many ships in my time, the goal being complete destruction. We can’t afford to let anyone through if we want to protect the planet.
Of late though, the job weighs heavily on my mind. That last explosion… I saw beauty in death and destruction. Am I losing my humanity?
I don’t think I have the stomach for the job any longer. Did these people really deserve to die? I can’t be certain any more and that automatically disqualifies me.
When I get back to the spacehab-stations, I’ll request a desk job. And I’ll apply for a dog. I deserve to have one, I served long and well.
Maybe I can get a terrier, or a chihuahua. They’re feisty little fellows. I can already see myself running and playing with my buddy in the arboretums and rec lawns of the habs’ outer rims.
Yup, let the good life begin.
An afterthought: This has nothing to do with the books or show 100! Nothing at all.