This can’t be happening. Can’t. Must not. Could not. And above all. Shall Not. Not while I’m in control. Not while I’m the man. Not on my shift.
Cliche’s all. Sure enough. But that’s the way it’s gonna be.
My home planet is safe. Always has been. Always will be. I’m the man. That’s the way I want it and that’s just the way it is.
A few parsecs away the masses are starting to gather.
No. They aren’t coming for the home planet. That would be a suicide mission.
Many a brave commander has ordered his troops to attack the home planet. Not a one has even come close. Not a one has even breached the outermost perimeter.
Nope. The home planet is to well defended.
I have layer upon layer of ships just laying out there waiting. Waiting to be struck. Waiting to be tested. Waiting to send whomever back to wherever. Wherever they come from and whatever manner of weapon they bring matters not. They have all been repelled. They will always be repelled.
I have to decide what to do with my other planets however.
Some are used strictly for their access to resources.
Resources that have to be mined, or cut down, or simply moved. We have large machines for that. We have men. We have men with arms as big as logs and legs like tree trunks. They do the dirty work. The enjoy it. And then at the end of the week. To the bar!
Hearty men. Men we can count on. Men we can be proud of. Fight. I think not. Nope these men are here to work and work is what they do.
Then I have some other planets that just do military. They escort the storage ships to the resource planets where the resources that are removed from those planets are converted into military machinery. Machines that do it all.
Machines that protect. Machines that attack. Machines that scout out the enemy. Alert ships. Ships that lay in the darkness and wait to pick off the prey as it comes towards them. Those captains have ice in their veins. They never flinch. They hold their ground and at the last possible second they fire. Oh yea. The open fire and destroy whatever it was that was sent their way. The poor bastards never see it coming.
I have the occasional outpost as well. Goods can be converted into the might that is my military but it can also be turned into goods. Then those goods are sold and my income increases. And with the increase comes the need for more increase.
It wasn’t always that way. In the beginning just moving a transporter full of goods was enough. Not anymore. Now we have converted entire planets to moving goods. Moving lots and lots of goods throughout the known galaxy.
The more we make the more they want. It’s an unending rhythm. We get the resources. We convert them to goods and then the masses come for the goods.
Some like the one’s currently stationed off of my planet simply want the goods. They don’t want to have to pay for the goods. The scourge of the galaxy.
We expend our energy. Our blood. Our sweat. And what do they do? They just here to pick it up at their leisure and make off with it as if nothing happened.
They came in large numbers hoping to scare us.
Not gonna happen.
How do I know?
Because I’m the man who makes those decisions.
I and I alone decide which ships to attack and which ships to let pass.
It is not a duty that I take lightly.
With that decision comes the carnage. The loss of life. The loss of goods. A setback to be sure.
The only thing worse would be to just let them take. And that they shall not do.
Clean up on aisle 5 blares over the loudspeaker.
I hit save game on my smartphone. Time to pick up the mop and go back to work.