The little craft spun lazily along on its course. It had no pilot, or passengers. No lights illuminated its flanks. No insignia suggested its planet of origin. The ship didn't send or receive any signals. There was no-one to talk to out here. There was only silence and emptiness.
Not that the little craft was aware of the solitude. Its makers had seen no reason to give it any intelligence, beyond its basic programming. It had no concept of the passage of time and no idea how far it had traveled. It only had a set of criteria determining its final destination, and after unknown aeons, a suitable location had now presented itself.
The ship had passed several planets already, most recently a dry, desert world of high winds and small, misshapen moons. Not what the little craft had been programmed to look for. It only had the most basic of sensors, but they were sufficient to guide it onwards, towards a more suitable target.
The planet it was heading for could not be more different from the red, desert world. They were similar in size, but this one only had a single moon, cratered and dusty, but large enough that it could once have been a planet in its own right. It guarded a blue world, of high, docile clouds and surging oceans. There was a single, giant continent visible, strung out almost from pole to pole. The land was etched with rivers and scarred by mountain ranges. A large volcano was belching smoke into the southern skies. However, land was not what the little craft was looking for. The instruments on board steadied the craft, angling it just right for atmospheric entry. If the craft burned up during its descent its mission would be a failure, but its creators had made every effort to ensure its success.
The thick metal skin of the craft's hull was glowing white hot by the time it splashed down in a belch of steam and sludge, a short distance from the continent's vast shoreline. The water was viscous; alive with tiny organisms. It was just what the little craft had been programmed to expect.
It felt no satisfaction at the completion of its mission, or regret that its existence was about to come to an end. So, with no fanfare or cry of anguish the little craft allowed its programming to run its course. With one final hiss of steam, the ship's hull cracked open and its contents, frozen for so long, spilled out into the warm, sunlit water.
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The Regulator
Sci-fi**Winner of the Wattpad Bookshop Gauntlet, January 2019** The M'Nean Ambassador is dead. Once tasked with his protection, Commander Neylan Haas of the Admiralty's Regulator Force now finds herself accused of his murder. On the run from her own peopl...
