“Wait!” Commander Long’s hand shot out, grabbing his captain’s shoulder. She turned and gave him a confused look.
“What?” She asked.
“Don’t you want to commemorate this moment? We’re the first humans to set foot in this star system!”
Captain Sommer rolled her eyes, then climbed off the ship. “I swear to shit, Long, you better not be like this the whole time.”
“Great first words, captain!” Lieutenant Branson saluted.
“Look, the sooner we get this planet up and running, the sooner we can take a break.” Even as she spoke, robotic assistants began dislodging themselves from the outside of the ship’s hull and unloading cargo.
“Gravity seems reasonable.” Branson said, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.
“Pressure is .2 millibars.” Long said, reading a screen embedded in the arm of his spacesuit. “Not exactly a day at the beach. We need to get it up to at least 700.”
“Temperatures will fluctuate wildly for the first few months.” Captain Sommer said. She was busy activating the TeHaB device on the side of the ship. The TeHaB, or ‘Terraforming-Habitation Bridge’, was instrumental in colonizing the stars. Wormholes capable of transporting humans or ships were still impossible, but quantum wormholes were fairly standard, and could instantly transport molecules containing up to 50 atoms. Despite such limitations, these quantum wormholes made terraforming practical. One simply needed to find a planet with too high a pressure, a planet with too low a pressure, then create a quantum bridge between the two. In a matter of months, the pressures on both planets would begin to equalize.
“Got a link to Janus 4, about 2.2 light years away.” Captain Sommer announced. “The planet’s much hotter, and much denser… Currently incapable of visitation, but it has an open TeHaB node on it.”
“2.2 is pushing it.” Branson frowned, studying the nuclear reserves.
“2.2? Hell, we’ve gotten it up to 4 in the past.” Long said.
Captain Sommer thought about it for a moment. “It should be fine. 2.2 is admittedly a bit of a stretch, but this planet’s got a decent enough distribution of uranium. The bots can refine it and use it for fuel.”
“I guess we can link them.” Sommer agreed.
Even before issuing a command, a robot emerged from the ship carrying a crate labeled ‘Nodes 1-500’. It placed the crate on the ground, opened it, withdrew a crystalline cube framed in shimmering green metal, and carried it roughly a hundred yards away. The robot placed the cube delicately on the soil, but kept its hand on the object, ready to shut it off should something go wrong.
“Activating the first node.” Captain Sommer said. The other two braced themselves.
The box began to glow and a burst of air exploded out from it. The robot was built to withstand such events and remained unperturbed, but the enormous cloud of regolith being thrown in all directions was a testament to the explosive force of air emanating out from it.
“A lot of dust.” Long commented.
“Janus 4 has a pressure of seventy thousand millibar… Nearly that of primal Venus.”
The dust began to clear and the robot was recalled. The three were about to set up additional nodes when a bright light suddenly appeared in their midst.
“Greetings!” The voice was warm and welcoming, and had been telepathically injected into each of their minds.
“Who are you?” Captain Sommer asked.
The light began to fade, and the three colonists could make out the faint outline of a humanoid figure suspended in a giant crystal.
“I am a representative of The Planetary Protection Organization!” The voice explained. “I have been hired to ensure this planet, policy number 893-400-29-39, code-named Glur, remains safe from outside lifeforms colonizing it.”
“The Planetary Protection Organization?” Sommer asked.
“That is correct, Captain.” The voice confirmed.
“You say you were hired? By who?” Branson asked.
“By the Glurrians, of course.”
“Glurrians?” Sommer asked.
“The intelligent beings who evolved on this planet.”
The three astronauts exchanged glances.
“But there are no intelligent beings here.” Sommer argued “There’s not even any signs of life!”.
“This was a policy taken out about fifteen-million of your years ago.” The being explained. “Apologies, but in order to facilitate communication, the policy holder has given our organization permission to mine data from any third parties who happen to engage with the protected asset, including language and time-keeping methods.”
“Protected asset…” Long trailed off.
“The planet.” The being said. “Basically, so long as you’re here, I’m allowed to read your thoughts.”
“But if there were intelligent life-forms here, what happened to them?” Branson asked.
“A nearby gamma-ray burst baked the planet’s surface, leaving only the most hardy of microbes deep within its crust.”
“But if you’re a planet protecting organization, shouldn’t you have protected their planet?” Long asked.
“Our organization is not staffed by gods.” The crystalline being huffed. “We cannot prevent the whims of the cosmos. We can only make sure the planet is left alone so that the natives have a chance to recover.”
“But there are no natives.” Sommer argued, her tone growing frustrated.
“There are.” The being replied. “I just told you that hardy microbes survived deep in the crust.”
The three astronauts exchanged another glance.
Sensing their confusion, the being continued. “Before they were wiped out, the Glurrians took out a 733-million year (Your years, that is) protection policy. A rather expensive policy, given its duration and this planet’s unsafe stellar neighborhood, but in hindsight one that greatly benefited them.”
“It doesn’t sound like it benefited them.” Long said snidely.
“Of course it did. Three-quarters of a billion of your years? That’s more than enough time for the survivors to evolve back into intelligent lifeforms and reconquer the planet.”
“So you’re saying these Glurrians would rather have their planet remain empty for eons on the off chance they evolve than to have us colonize it?” Sommer asked.
“The Glurrians likely did not intend for this outcome, but it’s what their policy dictates.” The being explained. “I am merely making sure they get what they paid for.”
“What did they pay you?” Long asked curiously.
“The last nine years (Again, your years) of their local star. The full energy output of it during that period of time will be funneled to my organization upon the conclusion of policy 893-400-29-39.”
“So you’re saying we’ve got to leave?” Sommer asked.
“I can offer you transit to a planet 5.7 light years (Your light years, of course) away. Planet Shosht was never insured. Planet F’gh is just .8 light years (Again, using your metrics) away and has a policy that’ll lapse in 6.7 million years (Your years, aha). A very fine planet if you’re willing to wait.”
There was a lingering silence that Long eventually broke.
“What do you think, Captain? What should we do?” He asked.
Sommer weighed the options in her mind. As Captain, she was given the highest and final authority in their group. She briefly considered engaging the crystalline being in a fight, but none of them possessed any weapons.
“We’d better listen.” She concluded.
“No, I mean what planet should we choose? Should we take the one that’s 5.7 light years away, or do you want to wait about 7 million years for that other planet’s policy to lapse?”
She gave him a frustrated, piercing look.
Long merely gave his typical goofy smile before throwing his hands in the air. “Fine! The first one then!”
The crystalline being watched the crew of humans deactivate the node and pack all their cargo back onto the ship. Once their landing area was cleared, they climbed back aboard their vessel.
“Before you leave…” The being in light said.
A flash of pain hit all three astronauts at once. Sommer initially thought they were being attacked, but once the pain disappeared, she realized a semi-complex series of instructions involving lasers, star alignment, and water had been burned into her memory. It was a memory she hadn’t previously possessed.
“My calling card, should you ever wish to contact our organization. Simply follow the steps I’ve given you and I, or one of my coworkers, will be there.”
“Thanks.” Sommer said hesitantly. “We’ll pass that on to Earth.”
“Earth, policy number 127-031-25-00, has already been insured for the next 178 million years (Your years, that is).” The being stated.
Sommer blinked.
“I knew it!” Long exclaimed. “It was the Egyptians! Haven’t I always said the Egyptians were far more ancient and advanced than we suspected?”
“The Egyptians were not the ones who protected your planet.” The being said.
Images of squid-like beings thriving in soupy, primeval jungles filled their minds. “The Anjetians, intelligent life forms predating the Silurians, who themselves predated the Denisovans, who themselves were your fore bearers, took out a policy long before your ancestors even emerged from the oceans. Had they not done so, your planet would have been colonized a hundred times over.”
More images filled their minds.
A saucer-shaped ship landing on Earth.
A cigar-shaped ship landing on Earth.
A ship shaped like a tictac landing on Earth.
Another tictac, but of a different color, landing on Earth.
Each time strange beings, most of whom were robotic, emerged from the ships. Each time a being of crystalline light appeared, protecting the planet. Sometimes these protections were met with force, but each time the would-be invaders were easily defeated. Most of the time, however, the potential colonizers left the planet in annoyance, clearly well experienced with the Planetary Protection Organization.
When the visions faded the three astronauts looked at one another in surprise. With nothing left to do, Sommer bid the strange being goodbye before starting the ship.
“Think the Glurrian microbes will ever reemerge?” Branson asked as they blasted past the planet’s gravity well.
“If they do, I guess it’s good our home planet’s got an insurance policy. We don’t know what things will be like in a few million years. Who knows, by then we might be the microbes needing protection from the Glurrians.”