Captain’s Log:

The Craton has been rerouted from a political event on Lincoln 5 by an emergency request from the Diplomatic Corps.  We have been temporarily put under their command and ordered to a distant system whose host star is called Bror.  The third planet from that star is known to be a garden world, much like Earth, but that is all I know of it.

The nature of the emergency has not been explained yet; the message from command was brief, and I was told only that time was of the essence.

Once in-system, we will be meeting with Ambassador-General Callirrhoe Abashidze, who is commanding the operation.

I have a suspicion that gives me great interest in this assignment – the suspicion that there is intelligent life upon Bror 3.

I have never been involved in a first contact before and I hope that I will have the chance here.  They are among the most difficult and dangerous of all encounters one might have in space exploration, and one whose ethical boundaries are still not fully explored.  One’s actions could easily put them into history as the one who brought friendship between two species – or as someone who poisoned such relations, perhaps for millenia.

Well, now that I’ve thought about it, perhaps I should hope not for such a weight on my shoulders.

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“We have surfaced in realspace,” Ji-min Bin called.  “We are in the Bror system.”

External visuals appeared and the command deck crew were greeted to a startling sight.

They had surfaced near the third planet of the system; the garden world of Bror 3.

It was a lovely world; they saw at the moment vast oceans and some land near the equator, hidden behind clouds.

But what was more startling was the glow around the planet.

“What’s causing that?” Brooks asked.

“It is dust, Captain,” Cenz answered.  “The planet has an immense amount of debris around it.  The vast majority appears to be extremely fine material not exceeding 100 microns in size.  They are shedding energy into heat as they fall towards Ko, however, and that – along with the reflection of light from the system’s star – is the source of the glow.”

Brooks sat back.  “What’s the cause of the dust?” he asked.

“Captain,” Urle said.  “Look at that small moon.”

It was just coming out from behind the planet, rising into the light along with the dawn of the world.

The sliver had just barely been visible, but the Craton‘s computer system lightened up the body, bringing it into full view.

It was far smaller than Luna, but it was not tiny, either, at several hundred kilometers across.  And it was far, far closer than Luna was to Earth.

It was falling into its parent world.  Everyone on the deck who knew anything about bodies in space could see it.

It would not be a single, cataclysmic impact; no, there would be many.

For every natural object in space orbiting a larger object, there was a boundary, known as the Roche Limit.  If the smaller body strayed within that limit, the parent body’s gravity would tear it apart.

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Once that happened to the moon – as it had arguably already begun, with the dust – its pieces would continue to spiral in closer, eventually shedding so much energy that the atmosphere itself would burn.  Long before the moon was gone, all life would be dead.

“The planet itself is 15,000 kilometers in diameter,” Urle commented.  “That moon is barely even that far from it. . .”

“What’s the exact distance from planet?” Brooks asked.  The bridge was otherwise silent.

“The moon is . . . 10,447 kilometers from the planet’s surface,” Cenz replied softly.  “That is . . . it is just on the Roche Limit, Captain.  That moon will break up in . . .”  He went silent.

Turning in his seat, he seemed to struggle for words for a moment.  “I will have to get back to you on the calculations, Sir,” he said.

“Captain,” Eboh called.  “We are being messaged.  It is the Diplomatic cruiser, Entente.”

“Take it,” Brooks said.

An image appeared in a box on the main screen, of Ambassador-General Callirrhoe Abashidze.

There were signs of stress on her face, along with exhaustion, but her eyes were sharp.

“Captain,” she said.  “It is good you have arrived.”

“Thank you, Ambassador,” Brooks replied.  “We are here to help.  But I have to say – I’m not sure if we can stop a moon.”

“I see you’ve noticed the situation,” Abashidze said, smiling wanly.  “Fortunately, I am not expecting you to deal with the moon – though, believe me, we have considered that possibility.  There are, unfortunately, too many factors working against us.”

“I would imagine that building a zerodrive onto a moon that large would simply take too long,” Cenz said.

Brooks gestured.  “This is Commander Cenz, my Science officer.  He is a veteran of multiple terraformings and the relocation of the Dwarf Planet Xohhes.”

Abashidze looked to Cenz.  “You are correct Commander, we have done assessments and we lack the time.  There’s so much loose debris around the moon that we’d lose too many shuttles going in and out.  If you have any other thoughts, however, I would like to hear them.”

“How long do we have?” Brooks asked.

Cenz turned so his screen was facing both Brooks and the Ambassador-General.  “I have finished my calculations, Captain.  We have approximately seventy-three days.”

The Ambassador seemed amused.  “You are in agreement with the science division.  It took them nearly two days to make that estimation, however.”

“Cenz is good with numbers,” Brooks said.

“So you see the problem and our time frame,” Abashidze continued.  “But there is something that makes this problem much more complex.”

“Which is?” Brooks asked.

“We will speak in person, Captain,” she replied.  “I am on my shuttle already, and will launch momentarily.  I will be there in approximately forty minutes.”

Brooks nodded.  “I look forward to it.”

The call ended, and he looked to the command officers.

“Opinions?” he asked.

“I suspect we are on a cataloguing expedition,” Cenz said.  “If Bror 3 has a complex ecosystem – which it certainly does, given these atmospheric readings – then it is Union doctrine to catalogue the species.  With the time crunch, I expect our focus will be on capturing genetic information.  We may be able to restore this world’s biosphere one day.”

“That would usually be under a Science command,” Urle said.  “Not the Diplomatic Corps.”

“Normally this is the case, yes,” Cenz replied.  “But the Diplomatic Corps at times takes command of these, just in case a native sapient species is encountered.  As well, the Bror system is outside of the Sapient Union in Unclaimed Space.  If another government’s ships arrive, diplomacy will be vital.”

“But then why be so secretive?” Jaya asked.

“Doomed worlds attract vultures,” Brooks replied.  “We may simply be running security in case smugglers come to take samples for sale at Gohhi.  Many of the rich collectors there will pay huge amounts for the last of a species, especially if it’s a large predator.”

“I suspect,” Y said, “That they have discovered a sapient species.”

A silence fell; they had all been thinking of the possibility.

“Respectfully, that seems unlikely,” Urle replied, picking his words carefully.  “As exciting as it is to consider, intelligent life is just so rare.  There are just over a dozen species in the Sapient Union and we believe it to be an unusual density for reasons we poorly understand.  Besides, there are no cities or geographical alterations we can see – if they’re down there, they’re staying pretty quiet.”

“Not all species are technologically advanced,” Brooks noted.  “We only have been smelting metals for eight thousand years, after all.  All of humanity’s time before that was living as simple bands of hunter-gatherers.”

“And that is precisely what I think has been discovered down there,” Y said.

Silence fell again, and Brooks stood.  “Urle, Y – you’re both with me.  Let’s get ready to greet the Ambassador-General.  Jaya, you have command.”