Another sweet story from my head, written during lunchtime at my game development studio. . . .
He gazed out the small porthole window, watching as the sun rose over the Atlantic Ocean, a silent farewell echoing around the blank space in his head. He knew he’d never rest his eyes upon this little blue marble ever again.
It’s for the better good, he convinced himself. One for the benefit of 8 billion. He could almost see the earth destroying itself. He could still hear the bombs going off, feel the tremble of armies, and smell the decaying breath of the dying.
He was the earth’s last hope. Humanity’s last hope. He could feel the reset button glued to his forehead. His search seemed never ending and impossible. Another home for humans? He turned, looking out the opposite porthole into the vast abyss of space. Somewhere out there was a planet, a home, an asylum. He leaned back against the black leather chair and strapped himself in.
A hollow metallic voice called out. Xen sighed and held his breath as the engines started, rumbling behind the ship, rattling his teeth and eyes.
Pilot Xen, radar has picked up an unidentified craft approximately one mile in distance.
Scan for military weaponry on board.
Switch to manual control
Xen’s mind went to his happy place, his summer home in Florida, and his subconscious transferred to combat mode. His reflexes sharp, his eyes narrowed, his military training kicking it.
He pressed forward on the joystick, launching the ship towards the UFO. He watched as two missiles flew out from hidden compartments and veered towards him. His hands expertly guided his ship in between the two, returning fire, which the mystery pilot dodged, veering to the left. Xen yanked on the joystick, jerking the spacecraft into the wake of the opposing ship.
Missile lock on enabled and engaged, Captain.
Xen jammed his thumb on the fire button, launching two more missiles into pursuit. They slammed into the hull, a flash of fire erupting from the hull of the other ship.
He watched the vacuum of space suck everything out of the ship until it was no more than a crumpled shell. It floated there, silent. Like a reminder to all the other ships that’d pass by. It was a memory of what was.
Just like Earth. (here’s a great educational link on space.)
He wondered about the chances. The chances of actually finding something suitable. Surely the odds were against him.
He had been assigned a planet. Planet 211 E. He didn’t know why it was called what it was but he knew his mission, and no matter the odds, nothing was going to stop him. He would keep going. He would fly until he died.
He didn’t care how small the chances. He knew Earth needed him. He knew every single life on earth depended on him. And he was up to the challenge.
Let every little boy and little girl look up. Let them look up from the horrid world they lived in and have hope in the one man looking out for them.
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