The din of instruments on the bridge of The Raven was punctuated by the bark of the ensign at the conn.
“Sir, we are entering Chara’s inner system”
I sat beside the Captain, a largely stoic and silent man. He motioned, I responded. “Place us in low orbit around Chara IV, ensign”
“Aye, Leftenant.”
The planet looked beautiful. They all did, from up here. I never tired of seeing a planet from high orbit. Few spacefarers did; that was the calling. Rarely setting foot on the ground. Planets were peaceful, idyllic from space. I had no desire to be on one. They were beautiful from here.
The captain outlined our mission once again.
“We are here to transport refugees. We are not here to intervene. Our ambassadors and peacemakers have been expelled or killed.
We are not here to make policy, men. We are here to enforce it. Our role is observation. Refuge will be granted to those who request it, but we will not make planetfall.”
There was a silence across the bridge, save for the ever-present hum. After a few moments, a junior officer spoke.
“Sir, is there nothing that can be done? Is this planet going to full-scale war?”
“Ensign, they are just like us. So much carbon. It is our greatest legacy, this eternal dance. And they have the floor.”
The captain paused, his ever stoic face flashing with emotion for just an instant – fear? sadness?
“Just so much carbon.”
Three hours passed with no activity. Explosions could be seen on the surface. Diplomacy had met its end. A war was raging out of control far below us. The ultimate human failing had come to Chara. A simple territorial conflict between peoples who had exhausted their resources. The eternal drama playing another act.
Seven hours after The Raven had entered orbit around Chara IV, a spacecraft left the planet’s surface.
“Craft from the southern hemisphere entering orbit, sir!” The nervous voice of the tactical officer belied his anticipation and dread of possible battle. The captain and I, veterans of hundreds of engagements, simply watched.
The shining silver craft burned hard to escape Chara’s gravity. Like a chrome dart, it rose, trailing flame behind it. After what seemed an eternity, its engines failed, spent of fuel. The craft began to spin drunkenly in orbit.
Before the Captain could issue a command, the nav ensign gasped.
“Sir!”
The planet below was blossoming. Gamma bombs, visible as large white flashes, played across entire continents. 830 million people were reduced to their base elements in 15 seconds.
“Bring in that craft.” The Captain gave his order and left the bridge.
The craft contained a large computer and a single occupant, dead of an apparent suicide. A holoviewer in the cockpit was playing a repeating message from the pilot. It was short and succinct.
“If you’re hearing this, I, and likely most of the population of Chara, am dead. This is a record of all our collected knowledge. I pray it is used for better good than we put it to.”
I informed the Captain that the gamma radiation from the surface was intensifying, posing a danger to The Raven.
“Take us home, Leftenant.”
The Captain did not report for the next duty shift. I found him in his quarters, slumped over his desk. His dead hands clutched a holoviewer. The image was of the Captain and a woman, a wedding photo. The Charan capital was visible in the background.
“Just so much carbon” seemed a fitting epitaph for him, I murmed to the crew as we set his body adrift in a decaying orbit high around Chara IV.
The atmosphere of the planet had been blackened, the surface charred. No life would exist there for millennia. Still, it looked beautiful. They all did, from up here.