Population Control Ch 1
#1 of Population Control
Imelda Noble is a merc and her latest job is by far the weirdest and darkest she's ever been given: to greatly reduce the population of an entire planet. Insane, right? It would be impossible for a pony to do alone. However, this planet is inhabited by a new alien race called Humans who are way smaller than any sentient species she knows and their tech is primitive at best. She towers over these little creatures and even their most powerful weapons are useless against her.
It just might be possible to wage war against an entire planet by herself under these conditions. But will humanity find a way to fight back or will her conscience crush her first?
Population Control
Chapter 1
By Blobskin
Contains: pony, mercenary, sci-fi, micro humans
Version: 2
Imelda Noble was a snow white unicorn with a long messy black mane. She was tall and muscled, her body crisscrossed with several bald scars. As she reclined on her back, legs sprawled about randomly, she certainly looked like a wild pony. Her blood red eyes were half closed as she stared at the television. It was muted and subtitles were rolling across the screen, but she was only barely paying attention to even that. Strewn about the floor was a diverse field of garbage that included food wrappers and disposable microwave meal trays. Beneath the layer of trash was her ship's metal flooring, stained from years of messes.
A low beeping caused one of her ears to twitch. The mare lazily lifted her head to gaze across the room. A blue light was blinking slowly in the dark corner. She had mail.
Imelda sighed in frustration. She didn't want to get up. She groaned with the effort of rolling over and dropped off the couch. She stretched her back even as the beeping continued to notify her of the message. The unicorn yawned as she waddled across the room, not even noticing the random things she kicked to and fro as she headed straight for the console. The television continued to play whatever boring thing she had left it on as she plopped down in her seat and tapped on the keyboard. The terminal screen lit up, blinding her for a moment. Imelda growled and rubbed her eyes. She blinked away tears as she glared at the once dark surface in front of her. This had better be important.
"Contract Request"
Imelda scratched her butt with one hoof as she leaned forward to make sure she was reading it correctly. That was unusual. She rubbed her eyes and read it again. The subject line of the message had not changed. It still read "Request".
The mare eased back into her chair, taking a split second to stretch her spine and neck again. She worked her tongue around her teeth. She lifted her hooves over her head and crudely brushed her mane down a bit. Imelda was wasting time to think. Was it worth reading? She hummed, rolled her eyes, and shrugged. She didn't have any other contracts to fulfill at the moment. She used her hoof to poke the glowing screen in front of her and opened the message. It was very long and included several data file attachments.
This was too much info for Imelda to process at the moment. The unicorn huffed, scratching her head in agitation. The mare seriously considered just closing this and going back to...
Imelda glanced at the couch bathed in the glow of mundane entertainment. That craving for action always burned in her veins and merely watching someone else jump around never did it for her. She rubbed her left shoulder where a nasty burn had marked her with a permanent bald patch. She glanced at the message which was a literal wall of text. She needed to wake up more before she dealt with this.
Imelda Noble quickly finished off a meal of instant mush and downed a cup of liquid energy. Her mind was now alert and she was ready to digest whatever this contract had to offer. The mare dropped into her seat and began diligently reading what had been specifically sent to her.
The more she read the more confused Imelda became. The mare hesitantly opened one of the attachments and stared at the image. An alien race she had never seen before. Then she gaped at the scale beside the diagram. That was impossible. The unicorn lifted a hoof and stared at it. These... "humans"... were less than two meters tall? Imelda was nearly 20 if she just measured from the shoulder. Even without counting her head and neck she would have towered over these little creatures. Such small things couldn't possibly be sentient like the message suggested.
Then she opened the attachment that included various images of the human homeworld so uncreatively named "Earth". Huge sprawling cities complete with towers and bridges and infrastructure like any she'd seen on developed worlds. The parade of evidence went on and on.
The mare's jaw hung lower and lower the further she dove into the request until she had to stop and massage her temples. Surely this was madness. Some idiot with nothing better to do must have thrown this collection of nonsense together then sent it to countless suckers across the universe. Such a thing was not unheard of. They were usually part of a scam or a cover to infect computers with viruses. Luckily, Imelda was no stranger to those tactics and her terminal had some high grade protections. The fact no alarm had been tripped eliminated the possibility this was an attempt to spread a computer virus. So she wasn't sure what to make of it.
It was insanity at a level that made even a mercenary like her uncomfortable. Imelda felt her guts twisting at the very thought of the request. This contract was something else entirely. Imelda had never seen anything like it. It disturbed her. It enticed her. It claimed things that were nearly beyond belief. It was the most complex situation she had ever been thrown into. She had to talk to the sender.
The connection opened and a box with a single line running through the middle appeared on her screen. It flickered up and down as the other person spoke.
"Greetings. I take it you got my request."
Imelda worked her jaw for a moment, not sure what the best way to start was. Was this negotiating? "I did. Is this... real?"
"Indeed." The voice on the other end sounded a bit robotic. No doubt he was using a voice scrambler to obscure his identity, but that also made it harder to tell what tone he was speaking with.
"Humans are not a registered species with any nation or company," Imelda stated a bit harshly. "I have a hard time believing a random caller could have exclusive knowledge of an entirely new alien race."
"Have you checked the coordinates included in the details? I think that will explain a lot."
Imelda blinked. She quickly entered the string of numbers into her navigator and was shocked where they pointed. "That's way out in the Dark Zone," she mumbled.
"Beyond the reach of any authority," the robot voice added.
Imelda swallowed. "You went that far to scan random planets?" She couldn't help probing him a bit. The Gray Zone was as far as prospectors tended to go. There were still lots of planets in that region that hadn't been claimed, yet were still close enough that new claims could realistically be mined or colonized. The Dark Zone was anything beyond that, completely unexplored and unrealistic for mining or colonizing. Shipping lanes would be stretched to their breaking point at distances that large. Defending them from pirates would be a futile endeavor.
"Will you do it or not?" The voice sounded impatient even with the scrambler.
Imelda grumbled to herself. He wasn't going to give her anything else. "What you are asking for is... insane."
"What's the problem? The local technology is so primitive you'll be invincible. Take whatever resources you want as payment and have fun."
She bit her lip. "Are they really that small?"
"Yes."
"It's... wrong..."
"Why? They are weaker than you, why not take whatever you want?"
"I am not a mindless killing machine!" Imelda barked. "I'm a merc, not a... a... planet destroyer!"
"I'm not asking you to exterminate them."
"Yeah, you just want me to reduce the planet to 1/10th its current population," she hissed.
"Yes. The humans suffer from countless complications caused by their excessive numbers. Culling them, like any herd animal, will stabilize the situation long enough for them to learn their mistake."
"This isn't war, this is genocide," Imelda stated.
"Genocide would be extermination. I want to help them."
"By killing them?"
"Is overpopulation never a problem?" the voice challenged.
"Then why don't you do it?" Imelda growled, choosing not to take his obvious bait. Everyone knew there were plenty of planets with too many people.
"I lack the technology or weapons. I assure you, if you gave me your ship and equipment, I would do it myself." There was a conviction in those words that made Imelda recoil.
"This is... insane," the mare mumbled as she rubbed her face.
"Take the planet's resources as payment. You have automated mining gear, yes? And recyclers? You can breakdown and reuse the materials mankind has built his civilization with."
"I'd have to buy a lot of equipment first," she admitted quietly. "I need to upgrade my drives just to make a jump that far."
"But once you get there you'd have an entire planet to mine and harvest for all your needs," the voice reasoned.
Imelda massaged her shoulder again. "Just getting there is going to put me in debt."
"Then bring plenty of storage space."
He was right. Finding so much material that wasn't.... claimed... could be incredibly lucrative, but she didn't have a way to transport it. Unless she spent her savings. It was risky, but she could always sell the transport when she was... done.
"Will you do it?" the voice asked again.
"Why do you want me to do this? Is this really to 'help' them or do you intend to invade after I've softened them up for you?" He did say something about not having the technology to do it, which was strange. She was just one mercenary, it wasn't like she had access to anything special.
"If you care then stick around and guard them while they recover."
Imelda blinked. That was an unexpected challenge. "If I care?" she echoed.
"Do you?" Did she?
"I... I... I need to think about this," she mumbled.
"Small species, primitive technology, valuable minerals, no higher authority to stop you. Make a decision quickly. Or I'll send my request to someone else."
The connection ended and Imelda Noble was alone in her ship.
To be a mercenary was to be a killer. Imelda had killed hundreds in her life. For credits or to protect herself. She'd worked for honest folk, she'd worked for scum. So why was this job so much more difficult? Why did it twist her guts? Why should she care?
Because the number of lives she'd be taking would be so much greater? Instead of hundreds it would be billions. She couldn't even fully grasp the scale of it. To attack an entire planet by herself? Ludicrous! Yet, if the info she had been sent was accurate, it was entirely possible. And the profit she could make while doing it was huge. Easily enough to cover any loan she might have to take just to get out there.
Why was she a mercenary? Because she had no honest cause to fight for.
Why shouldn't she do whatever enriched herself? Because no one else cared about her.
Slaughtering helpless little aliens was wrong? Only if there was a military or company authority to punish her for it. Right?
Imelda Noble's small cruiser turned toward the Olscaria sector. She had equipment and supplies to get.
Imelda fell into the captain's chair of her new ship. The sheer number of upgrades and new equipment she needed were too much to justify adding to her old ship. So she cleaned out her vessel and sold it, then she pulled all her savings and took out a loan on top of that to buy a next generation long-range cargo ship. It wasn't pretty, but it had drives strong enough to get her where she was going and some mid-grade protections that would easily repel anything humanity could try and throw at it. It was the most expensive thing she had ever owned. The biggest investment of her life. Even as she pulled out of the dock and punched in her coordinates she couldn't help worrying. If the request was all made up, a joke, her life would be ruined. She'd have to become a space trucker.
The thought made her shiver. She hated navigating the shipping lanes.
Imelda buckled herself in, exhaled nervously, and hit the button. The warp drives powered up after a moment of charging and her boxy new ship vanished in a streak of light.
It was seven o'clock in the morning Greenwich Mean Time when the emergency broadcast went out. An announcement made to the entire world at the same time. The developed world at least. It was on every channel. Even the big social networking sites had to force their users to watch it. It was the most important news broadcast in history.
A meteor, estimated to be just over one-third the size that killed the dinosaurs, was going to hit with 96 percent certainty.
The leaders of the developed world tried to assure their populations that this was not extinction. NASA had determined that the impact site would be somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. The entire western coast of the United States was being evacuated. Similar evacuations were taking place in Japan, Australia, and even China. Hawaii was also being evacuated entirely. The islands were considered lost. The tsunami wave estimations were off the charts. Humanity had just over 100 hours to prepare for impact.
Imelda stared out her window at the little planet. She was coming at it from the night side and had a terrible glare from the sun blazing through her window, but that wasn't enough to ruin the view. The lights of many cities and towns dotted the dark orb, sparkling like gems in a cave. No matter how many she saw in her travels, flying towards a planet always filled her with... something. It was a hard emotion to describe. Joy wasn't right. Relief? It wasn't like space scared her. Awe might have been close. The unicorn shook her head. Did she have time for thoughts like this? Well, sort of actually. She'd probably be doing this job for the rest of her life. Until she retired she'd be... terrorizing a helpless primitive world.
Imelda closed her eyes and took a breath. Not now. She would not think about that. There was work to do.
The mercenary stepped away from the window as her navigator prepared to turn the ship and set it into orbit above the clueless world below. The pony approached a glowing table that projected a three dimensional image of Earth into the center of the room. The image was larger than herself by a bit. It spun slowly, mesmerizing Imelda for a moment. She grunted and tried to focus on the task at hand. Where should she land? What was her plan?
"Highlight population distributions," she said to seemingly no one.
The planet's realistic colors vanished and were replaced by various splotches of yellows, reds, and ugly dark purples. It looked like some kind of exotic bruised fruit. The mare examined it for a few seconds. There was no place she obviously wanted to start from this information.
"Highlight elevations."
Again the globe changed colors. It was now blues, whites, and blacks. Again there was no obvious place to start from this information. Imelda growled.
"Highlight... resources."
This time the planet became a mass of lines, symbols, and colors. It was a jumble that only the most trained eye could have made sense of. Imelda took her time studying the map and its abundant decorations. Yet again, there was no obvious place to start.
Imelda fell on her rump and swallowed. Powerful emotions welled up inside her. The decision was not going to be made for her. She had to decide where to start. Why did her eyes feel a little wet? She quickly wiped her cheek and snorted. She was a mercenary with an open-ended job in front of her. The unicorn should have been happy she got to make her own decisions. That was often the worst part of being a merc. The guys who hired you often put stupid restrictions on what you could do and threatened to withhold your pay if you didn't obey. This time she could do whatever she wanted.
But where to start?
Imelda swiped at the globe in frustration and the image spun rapidly in response. Around and around it went as she watched with an empty stare.
The mare glanced away for a moment, thinking instead about her equipment. It was limited. She had bought some pretty nice fabricators and intended to make almost all her gear and ammo here. But she needed materials first. The unicorn sighed. She looked at the globe again, still displaying all the planet's known resources.
"Highlight iron and oil deposits only," Imelda ordered the globe.
The mass of information disappeared until only two kinds of symbols were left, though there were still a lot of those. Again she growled and swiped at the image. It spun. When the mare could stand watching it no longer she jabbed her hoof into the projection and it stopped rotating immediately.
Coincidentally, one of the smaller landmasses was right in front of her. It had large iron and oil deposits.
"Highlight population again," Imelda ordered.
The symbols were replaced with shades of yellow, red, and purple. The purples were darkest in three spots along the coast, with lighter purples and reds wrapping around the rest of the huge island. There were streaks of light red and yellows reaching into the center of the landmass where most of the resources were.
Imelda whined uncomfortably. It... matched her basic criteria for a staging area perfectly. It had the resources she needed to build her equipment. It had large amounts of space with a limited population for her to retreat and rest. And it clearly had large cities for her to... attack.
The mare closed her eyes and took a breath. She swallowed. This was it. Her last chance to turn around. To stop this before it started. There would be no turning back after this decision.
The ship's engines hummed quietly in the background. Outside the window behind her the surface of the world zipped by. The unicorn was still.
"What is the name of this region?" she murmured.
The computer thought for a moment, undoubtedly searching the human internet for the answer. "Locals call this continent Australia."
Imelda was silent for a minute. Then she unceremoniously turned toward the far door and began to leave the room. "Set an alarm for 12 hours. Then plot a landing near one of Australia's iron mines. I need to relax before we... get started."
Author's Note:
When I write a story I know what it is I'm trying to do. Some of my works have very deep meanings or messages baked into the subtexts. Some of my stories are just for entertainment. Some of my writing is just meant to explore a concept or idea. But this piece? Even I'm not sure what I'm trying to do.
Does this story have some kind of message? I don't think so. I certainly don't believe that humanity is this evil thing or that our population is too large. Though a good writer is one who at least plays with beliefs he doesn't necessary like or agree with.
Who is Imelda? She's certainly not a good person considering she KNOWS what she's going to do is VERY wrong, yet decides to do it anyway. And for WHAT?! She had a ship and savings already. Why does she need all this money? Why didn't she immediately report human existence to a government or something? Maybe she's also a bit dumb? Even the author doesn't know who she is. That's not a recipe for disaster...
Like I said, this is the first time I've ever written a story and not known what the point of the story is. As long as it's entertaining or thought provoking to the audience though I guess it's fine?