We Don't Worry About Those | HFY | SciFi Short Stories

We Don't Worry About Those

Story by u/NoOneFromNewEngland

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Original Story:   / we_dont_worry_about_those  

We Don't Worry About Those

OC
The strange ship, built in a configuration completely unknown to the entire registry of ships, approached the edge of the traffic control zone without a transponder beacon to identify itself.

Ugly. Brutalesque. Clumsy. Primitive.

It carried none of the elegance and finesse of modern ships and harkened to an age long since dead when the last of the primitive species gained their ascension into the interstellar community, nearly 7,000 cycles ago.

It responded to no hails using the standard channels and formats.

"Sir, we may have a problem here… but I am not sure of what type."

The Traffic Controller on duty approached the control console "well, what is it?"

"This ship, sir" the traffic tracking officer indicated the holographic display with a flick of one of its tentacles. "It's not responding to any hails and it is not broadcasting a transponder signal… and it's not on any schedule."

"Well, that is a conundrum, isn't it. Any evidence of weapons? Defensive or otherwise?"

"No sir."

"And the database has no recognition profile for it? Not even a suggestion for any sort of correlation?"

"Correct."

"Well, that certainly is interesting. What is its approach time?"

"At current speed sir…. Wait, that can't be right… Hold on a moment."

"Well?"

"At current speed, sir, it will arrive in a half cycle."

"Wow."

"I know, sir. Seems completely unreasonable. I had to triple check it before I answered."

"I didn't think anything that slow was still operating."

"It's not, sir. It's not allowed. Too dangerous for normal traffic."

"I'll notify the defense fleet. We may have to intercept and tow it in. In the meantime, track it's origination point and report back."

"Sure thing, boss."

The intrepid tracker initiated the subroutines that wound their way through the various flight relays and observation buoys that traffic control had throughout the quadrant and, through process of elimination, determined that the ugly, barely-a-ship, had to originate from a very small segment of remote space, far from any known worlds inhabited by sentients and considerably outside the range of cost-effective mining. The Tracker engaged a survey scan to examine all records of those systems to see if there were any worlds that had been surveyed, but never significantly studied. The query ran.

The query ran some more.

The Tracker's shift ended and it left work, leaving a small slip of paper taped to the console that read "do not touch, important search query in progress."

The Tracker's evening was pleasant, it conveyed the fascinating anomalous ship it had found to its mate over their evening meal and they relaxed to an evening of an immersive holo of the largest nature preserve planet in the Federation.

The following morning the Tracker was shocked to find that the query, while still running, had not yet yielded any information on the region despite searching through 57 million cycles worth of survey logs.

Mid-shift was nearly upon the tracker when the console went "DING" and yielded a result.

The Tracker, eager to see what the truly ancient records had found, stared in horror as it reviewed the survey results of the little blue and green world.

Monsters.

HUGE monsters.

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