A window stretched the length of the command; a man’s silhouette stood amongst the fluorescent palette of celestial bodies. His hands clasped tightly behind his back, creating a crease in an otherwise perfectly starched white uniform. Each of his shoulders bore three black stripes tipped with a star, the meekness of his frame providing a grandeur to their presence. Black boots gleamed off the marble floor upon which he stood. There wasn’t a single impressive feature in the man, sans a simple medal residing upon his breast. A pale face, broken nose and thin taut lips appeared to almost grimace as amber eyes looked introspectively into the uneven cosmos. As he peered, a dispute raged in his mind… ‘Shall I have the coffee, or the tea this morning?’.

A static chirping in his ear clawed through his process.

“Nova Marshal Astrosk, approach of object XCK-39-G complete.”

Astrosk took a long breath as it came into view. Its geography brought the gentle thought of a pearl resting in an oyster. It was a terrestrial planet comprised almost wholly of water with a single forested continental plate with a wash of islands surrounding it. Its geography was of no significance to the mission, but he did appreciate its uniquity.

The normal chatter of the bridge dulled as boots clacked upon marble tile. By the time their owner had reached the Nova Marshal, the chatter had ceased all together. Astrosk uttered his command to the new arrival in a raspy voice. “Report at ease, Nova Lieutenant Pock.”

Pock stood at attention, his dark skin a stark contrast to the white uniform, he too maintained. A gentleman of thirty or so with gentle eyes and a strong jaw line. An attractive man, Astrosk mused, but a non-threatening subordinate. A single black stripe rested on his left shoulder. With a salute he entered a relaxed demeaner, turning side by side with Astrosk, studying the heavenly body falling into view. Solemnly, Pock spoke. “We had to approach to get another check on the reading, sir. My apologies, I know you typically do not wish to come this close.”

Astrosk waved his hand. “It’s refreshing to remove myself from the duties of authority and stand amongst the infinite from time to time. Besides, in the line of duty, Pock, occasionally we must do things we don’t desire.”

Pock eyed the badge on Astrosks’ chest and nodded.

Astrosk took note of the glance. The object of it being a singular charcoal circle with a crimson ruby lodged in its center. Astrosk let loose a small smirk, he knew that very few had the privilege to adorn their uniforms with anything, much less a jewel. “Spectacular, isn’t it?” Pock hesitated. He had served under Astrosk on the WMC-HEG01 for 2 years, and it was an unspoken rule to ignore the badge. The events were public record, but no one ever had ever understood why his actions were so heavily rewarded. Finally, in a firm tone Pock replied. “The ruby is quite brilliant, sir.” Astrosk looked down at it. “I believe they give sapphires now to be within ‘brand’. A pity. I do like the fire within a ruby.”

Astrosk turned his head back to Pock. “I had just been promoted to Nova Lieutenant you know. That should tell how just how far back it was. An O2, a junior officer with experience. An oxymoron if I ever knew one. The only thing I’d done is take tests and tell ensigns to clean piss splatter off the tile. But none the less, I was proud and beyond excited to be in the role, I would be the stripe in the command room.” The bridge remained silent as they listened to the Nova Marshal speak.

“Our very own WMC was deeply embroiled in a territory spat with S-X. Rare, but sometimes infinite space can be crowded. I’m sure you’re all quite aware of that fact with our current run ins with TGD. S-X hit us hard as per usual. Their fanaticism to Him really makes them quite dangerous. A lesson I beg you all not to not forget when dealing with them in the future. I dare say they’re more a religious martyrdom than a Megacorp… Semantics aside, we were fighting over a type-1 civilization occupying TLP-230-G. Apathetic little species, not much fight in them - but supremely intelligent. We just wanted the resource rich rocks on which they stood. S-X wanted them for their own use as I recall. A cozy indentured servitude, but one none the less…” Astrosk paused as he looked at the window where readings and diagrams poured down. “Pock, has this data been verified?”

Pock nodded. “I scrutinized it myself. Using Terra metrics, they have a gestation of roughly a week, then a month or so of rapid maturation, typically living a 2-3-year life span. Their growth however does not stop, while they finish height wise at an estimated 1 meter, their muscular system continues to accelerate until their death. The species almost always terminates as a result of some amalgamation of cancer.” Astrosk bobbled his head. “Well that’s an interesting biological niche. I see we’ve been remotely observing for a year. Behavioral analytics and anatomy if you please.”

Pock digested a report scrolling through his eye before he spoke. “The AI indicates aggressive tribalism. Very little infighting though. They seem to have an unwavering loyalty to their tribe; they’ll hold a sort of melee brawl to determine the new leader once theirs expires. Very brutish species truthfully, similar to the Transgoshians before humanity won the war. They’re bipedal with average proportions in relation to their short stature.”

Astrosk tilted his head. “Mhmm. Diet and climate?”

Pock looked back towards the planet before speaking. “They eat voraciously. Omnivores from what we’ve gleaned. Calculating kilocalories based on observations, the AI approximates them coming in at roughly 6000 kilocalories a day. The climate is moderate with an oxygen to nitrogen mix similar to that of Terra.”

Astrosk squinted his eyes. “Those calories are nearly triple a man.”

Pock nodded. “They’ve got quite the stomach. They’re a negative on the Kardashev scale, of course. I do have my official recommendation prepared, Nova Marshal.”

“Please.”

Pock returned to attention. “System XCK-Planet 39-Goldilocks Zone, recommendation for extraction. It is the Nova Lieutenant, Zean Pock, of HEG-01’s official recommendation to extract a significant portion of the local population for use in the WMCs outer-colonies mining operations. They are intelligent enough to perform menial labor, and their chain of loyalty indicates a willingness to follow a decentralized leader if food and show of force is plentiful. Their rapid gestation and maturation will allow for extracting profit shortly upon installation to facilities. While their consumption of food is excessive, the cost of feed will be offset by the productivity capable of the species due to their muscular acceleration. The full report of my assessment with corresponding figures and documentation is on your holo now.”

Astrosk nodded. “Thank you, Nova Lieutenant. You may return to station.”

Pock saluted, waited a moment, and turned heel back to his station. The bridges typical noise pollution hummed to life once more. A few moments passed as Astrosk stared at the watery world warbling through its paces. He turned his wrist to flick on the holo and began to read the report well prepared by Pocks subordinates. After some time, he pressed a finger to his ear. “Pock, return to observation.”

Silence approached with the Nova Lieutenant’s boot step. Astrosk turned to the entirety of his officers. “This is for all of you on my command, especially my juniors. I know each of you aspire to reach my position one day, but truthfully, few of you will. Most of you will reach Commander, be given your ship, and need to come to terms with the fact that you do not have what it takes to reach the highest rungs of the WMC. This is not to disparage any of you. You men and women are the finest available to the corporation, and I truly believe each one of you will accomplish prestigious and great deeds, but simply not here.”

Astrosk turned to Pock. “Do you truly know why this badge adorns my chest?” The hum of the HVAC was the only reply. “The unfortunate truth is that many of you do not understand what matters to the WMC. The WMC is not evil, the WMC is not good, the WMC is. It only cares for one thing – profit. Every lost life fighting S-X, is a cost on a chart. Every species extracted, is value added to a share. Every planet we kill, is for just a dividend to be paid. This very badge I have on my chest, is in recognition of saving the WMC a blood bath in an earnings report.”

Astrosk paused as he looked around his command. Every officer was at full attention, there was not an eye left in the room not observing the once meek man in white.

“The day I earned this badge, a corvette flew itself straight into WMC-C-09. It was the first time we’d seen S-X do it – took us all by complete surprise. We’d seen smaller fighters and lancers do it from time to time, but that’s an individual making their choice, not an entire command. The damage as you can imagine, was catastrophic. A large chunk of the ship, bridge included, simply vanished with a haunting blue flash. Without their command, every remaining man and woman on C-09 knew their fate. They had no shields, their armor was tattered, and the engines were fluctuating with no one to organize the chaos.”

Astrosk paused for a minute as he peered at those in the room. “My commander and his two sub’s immediate reaction to C-09s loss, was to try and setup a tele-control, hastily throttle the engines to save the crew and ship, and leave the skirmish. They believed that this was the most prudent financial decision, considering the expense of a cruiser and the fact that they could always return to reclaim the planet. They had good intentions. I knew however, that the WMC couldn’t take the PR nightmare of a destroyed cruiser, and loss of an acquisition to S-X. Their next earnings report was days away and Wallstreet would eat them alive.

I ordered all batteries to strike our sister. C-09 died silently and rebirthed vengefully. Its fragmented hull showered the Type 1 Civilization below, devastating the planet with millions of kinetic bombs. Not a soul survived. Robbed of its value, we could leave and rob its grave safely with S-X having no further interest.”

The hiss of the oxygen cycler was the only audible noise in the room as Astrosk paused his tale. “I was tossed in the brig immediately, of course. I already knew my fate. Within 2 hours, I was released. Losing costs money. But friendly fire? Well that only costs a commander. I stepped out of that cell with a decoration and a star on my shoulder.”

Astrosk looked at his officers. “I made my decision. It wasn’t moral, it wasn’t ethical, but it was right for the WMC. We’re all names and numbers on spreadsheets, and the day you forget that is the day you become one on a page for the last time. If you want live at peace, go to Terra because this is the reality of what pays for that life. The only people who care if you die in this final frontier, are you, and insurance adjustor cutting your family a check.”

Pock stood and nodded. “And my recommendation, sir?”

Astrosk put his hand on Pocks’ shoulder. “Denied. Your intuition is good, but the species is not suitable. The gravity is too high on the planet. They won’t be able to perform work on lesser planetoids without significant bone retardation. Their consumption is also too great, and while there is a fair chance their productivity will override the cost, the WMC does not like to take chances when there is already a pathway to profit. Beyond that, the rates of cancer in their species are too high and could disrupt their productivity too randomly. Excellent report in the end though, Pock. You just must simply consider all the factors. You may all return to your stations. Chart for XCL-12-G and crack XCK-39-G. Mark it for WMC-G112 to begin gathering. The scans report excellent mineral allocations.”

The meek man in white, hands clasped behind his back, watched as an asteroid launched into the planet below, observed its impact, and mulled as fires spread across the green pearl, ‘1 or 2 sugars, in my coffee today?’