No Earthly Idea

Note: This story was a contest entry for the Sci-Fi Short Story Contest. To view the contest rules, click on Contest Rules:

The Sci-Fi Short Story Contest is a Contest Series that will have a wide range of Sci-Fi Topics.

The Goal: To write a short story, 1000 words or less, using the concept of Alien Attack - This can be either an Alien Race attacks and occupies Earth or maybe we are the Aliens of another planet. The story must be in the Sci-Fi Genre and should be as intense and thrilling as possible. :}>

The Prompt(s): Your story should be based on the prompt of this contest - Alien Attack. Please, no zombie stories. Remember, this should be a new story written for this contest.

The Rules:
The Short Story Must be 1000 words or less and be rated GC or lower.
Post the story in BITEM format (For help: "Newbie Hyperlinking 101 - Bitem Format" )
MUST include Word Count in Story Body or Entry Post.
This should be a new story, written for this contest. No Poetry Please.
You may edit this up to the deadline as they will not be read until after that.

This Contest is Sponsored by "The Sci-fi Writers Guild"  (If interested in joining, feel free to check it out!)

DEADLINE FOR ENTRY: NOVEMBER 30th, 2011 - Winners will be announced on or around DECEMBER 15, 2011 ---

Four Entries are needed before prizes can be awarded.

"Sci-Fi Short Story Contest(CLOSED)"  

******************************************************************************

No Earthly Idea

By Indelibleink

"Mr. Guile, are we within lethal firing range yet?"

"Yes we are, Sir. At our present position, the likelihood of a lethal hit is forty-seven point eight percent."

High Commander Methos Karazannan stared at the huge screen which showed a magnified image of the vessel under attack and grimaced. "Let's see if we can get a bit closer and increase our chances...We cannot afford to fail. We can only return home one way, which is - of course - victorious for the motherland."

"Understood, High Commander." The ship's navigator jockeyed the huge vessel ever closer toward the wounded spacecraft, and the besieged planet it was failing to protect.

"Navigator...Advise me immediately when the likelihood of lethal hit approaches sixty percent."

"As you desire, High Commander."

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

The Parthenon quivered from yet another hit from the alien warship. The crew, in spite of rigorous training and countless hours of classroom preparation for this kind of aggression, nevertheless had not been in a conflict of this magnitude before, and the worried looks upon the faces of virtually everyone on the bridge was difficult to miss. It didn't take an expert to realize that each hit the Parthenon absorbed sapped the shield reserves - already critically low - that much more, and with each blow the level of disruption on the deck increased in magnitude.

"They're preparing to deliver the knockout punch." Captain William Kearney turned to his communications officer. "Officer Marlin, notify the Chief Executive that all communication attempts with the aggressor have gone unanswered; therefore it is time to notify the leaders of other nations that our requests for terms of surrender have been ignored and, as a result, there is only one logical conclusion. However, with whatever time we have left, continue to try and establish contact with the aggressor."

The Captain pounded the strategy table with his fist. How could it all end so terribly - so suddenly? How could the best Starship in the galaxy - or so they thought up until twenty-four hours ago when the surprise 'seeding' of the planet's clouds was discovered - offer such a pitiful defense against the alien spacecraft? But the most perplexing question was: Why our planet?

Kearney's thoughts were interrupted by another hit which momentarily killed the power on the bridge. After auxiliary power brought the instruments back up, the Captain sensed the eyes of his First Officer upon him. He turned and met Lawson's gaze. "You know what to do, Ms. Lawson."

"Yes, Sir." She took a dozen steps toward the emergency transporter unit, then stopped and turned. "I will go do a visual check of the main shield, Sir."

"Very well, Officer." Kearney turned around to resume - or at least act like he was resuming - his duties. Nevertheless, he could feel the stares of every crew member on the bridge of the Parthenon. The worst kept secret on the ship was the code for arming the "Custer" warhead - an internally detonated self-destructing mechanism that was designed with such explosive capabilities that not only would it vaporize the Parthenon, but more importantly also take out virtually any other spacecraft within 5500 linear miles of the booby-trapped ship. Then the Captain turned to address the stares.

"There are still vital responsibilities to be performed on this ship. I suggest you all maintain your focus on them - and refrain from speculation."

*      *      *      *      *      *      *

"High Commander, we will attain a sixty percent chance of lethal contact in fifteen star-secs."

The High Commander looked at the time on the wall-mounted indicator. "Commence firing in twenty-three star-secs." High Commander Karazannan closed his eyes and grimaced at the inherent irony of his order. He thought of the scrambled, coded message which he had composed earlier that evening, and just moments ago dispatched privately to the motherland's brain trust, the group responsible for plotting and hatching this unconscionable scheme:

Fellow comrades and citizens of Earth, I have always taken great satisfaction in fulfilling my obligations as High Commander of the Human Pride starship. Today, as a result of the continued disregard for life on an innocent planet, I can no longer participate in this charade. The secret seeding of this planet's atmosphere which has initiated the calcification of the planet's inhabitants, with the very young and the elderly succumbing initially, is nothing short of barbaric. Today, this ship intercepted transmissions of images of hysterical mothers holding their dying infants, and hospitals overwhelmed with dying elders. All this, because we humans - out of our own ignorance and stupidity - created a soon-to-be fatal disruption in Earth's food chain.

When I was a young man in the academy, our mission was to serve as 'protectors of the galaxy' and I always felt it was an honorable notion. No longer. In weighing the pros and cons of Earth's current dilemma, it was decided it would be 'cost effective' to seek out a similar planet and take billions of innocent lives rather than doing the right thing and cleaning up our self-inflicted mess at home.

History will no doubt view me as a traitor, as I have rigged the Human Pride to implode concurrently at the same time I give my final order to strike, which will not be carried out. I have many friends and comrades aboard this ship that I am sentencing to death with my action, but eleven hundred on this ship is preferable to fourteen billion on the planet below.

Our scans of the technology on this planet indicate they are about five generations behind us. Therefore, knowing another warship will come to complete the mission I began, I have sent a detailed instruction of the critical defenses the planet needs to stave off another attack from Earth.

I suggest Earth solve its problems on its own soil, and never, ever again lose sight of its initial mission statement.

High Commander,
Methos Karazannan

******************************************************************************

Words: 993