Greenbelt, Earth

There is a saying: In Europe, 100 kilometers is a long distance. In America, 100 years is a long time. Even by American standards, Greenbelt was not an old city.

Originally designated Maryland Special Project Number One, it was built less than 10 miles from DC in 1937 as part of President Franklin Roosevelt's New Deal program. The idea was that a new city would be built from scratch, out of tobacco fields and wild grass. It would house the increasing homeless population at the time, and it was designed to be a utopian self-sufficient coop community that would create jobs for a country that was in a Great Depression.

Modern critiques of the idea are mixed. It was one of the first modern suburban cities to be fully planned from scratch. Extensively socially engineered, the government interviewed all the applicants before they could settle there; they excluded racial minorities. In terms of its goals, it was both a failure and a success. It failed to create a utopian city, but it did create jobs, and what came out of it was a popular model for modern suburbia.

Today, it is also home to NASA's first space center, Goddard Space Flight Center. Named after the father of modern rocketry, its purpose includes the operation of the newly established Settler program.

After the human invention of FTL drives, with the assistance of other space agencies around the world, NASA started to expand. The increased economic focus on space and other planets saw a steady flow of funding into its programs to aggressively survey the galactic neighborhood with their growing fleet of FTL probes and ships.

Other than the aliens they met, the Settler program found many treasure troves of scientific knowledge and discovery. New planets. New life. New sapients. The barren surface of the moon and Mars simply didn't compare to the galaxy full of other rocks teeming with activity.

One of these probes, Settler-39, was put in orbit over an Earth-like planet with an equally original name: Planet-39. There was life on it.. There was a sapient species, named Species-39. From long range observation, they looked like upright, bipedal turtles that shed their shells during puberty.

NASA's scientists classified its near billion population generously as in the Early Space Age: they had one non-FTL spaceship built at least 5 centuries ago that no longer flies. Like much of the rest of the galaxy, their economic system was pre-feudal and based on barter.

This and others like it led to a long and vigorous political debate on Earth and in the Galactic Union over what to do with non-FTL species.

During this time, critics humorously named NASA's official policy the Prime Directive after a Star Trek concept. They would simply observe and keep out of the way until the politicians and philosophers settled their debate and a real, permanent policy could be put in place.

"Uh oh," Indira said. That was not something you wanted to hear, especially from the Flight Controller in charge of Trajectory for Settler-39.

"What is it, Indira?" the Flight Director asked.

She pulled up her viewscreen onto the main projector. It was the debris-avoidance software they used to keep their probes safe. With a few adjustments, Indira displayed the various pieces of rocks and debris around System-39, and their projected orbital path.

The Flight Director frowned, "what do you see? It says we don't have a potential interception event for at least fifty years. That's why we chose this orbit right?"

Indira focused the camera on a rock slightly smaller Ceres, and said, "look at the newly discovered Asteroid 18-4."

"I'm still not seeing it. The closest it comes to our probe is still millions of miles away. And besides, look, it's projected to terminate-" She stopped her train of thought as she saw the projections of the final resting place of the massive space rock.

"Yup," Indira concluded, "it's 99.999% likely going to hit Planet-39 within ten years. Nine years, 11 months to be exact."

The room chilled ten degrees. The rock was almost the size of Texas. If it hit the planet, it wouldn't make a crater. It could crack the planet open like an egg. Or maybe it would merely leave its surface molten for millions of years. Determining the result was an academic exercise. Whatever happened, the poor sapients of Species-39 would not be around to see it.

"Lock the doors. No phone calls. No data. In or out."

Washington DC, Earth

Secretary of State Hawthorne got out of her car, still half asleep. The garage of the Harry Truman building was still empty. She absentmindedly checked her phone on her way up. There wasn't anything big on the news — yet.

There were already two people waiting outside her office.

She looked at them, and decided against saying something as cliché as "this better be important enough to wake me up!" Whatever reason they had of still being up at four in the morning, it was already important. She opened her door and invited them in.

They settled themselves in, and she refrained from offering them coffee. Her secretary wasn't even in yet.

"So, what is it this time?" she asked the Administrator of NASA. "NASA, right? Is there an extinction level asteroid heading towards us I should know about?"

"Close," he said, "but not Earth. Planet-39."

"You're joking."

"Dead serious, mam," he put a hastily made infographic on her desk. Then he continued, "System-39 Asteroid 18-4. About 600 miles across. The 2D comparison would be roughly the size of Texas. It's a little smaller."

"Jesus. Planet-39 is one of those with a species right?" Hawthorne was vaguely familiar with the Prime Directive debate going on at the Galactic Union.

"800 million is the population estimate," the competent administrator said. Anticipating her next question, he predicted, "they have just under ten years."

"Can we do something, like blow it up? A nuke or something?" Hawthorne asked. Ugh, I've been talking so much to the spook that I sound like him, she thought.

"We brainstormed several solutions," he explained. "Including consulting some of our military liaisons who are doing weapon experiments with the blink engine. Some of our solutions involve diverting the asteroid away from the planet, but we just don't have enough time for a gravity tractor. The best case so far is we get on it and split it into several pieces, but many of them will probably still hit the planet."

"Ah, like Armageddon. I've seen that movie. Wouldn't the atmosphere melt them if they're smaller?" she asked hopefully.

He shook his head, "we think these pieces will each end up several times bigger than the ones that ended the dinosaurs. We've been coming up with scenarios since last night. So far, Species-39's only chance in ten years is a full species-wide evacuation." And then he added, "we probably won't get everyone, but I've been told it's the only possible solution."

"Well, there goes my schedule for the next five years," Hawthorne said ruefully. Then, noticing he hadn't introduced the man next to him, she pointed and asked, "who's this?"

"That's Gideon. He is humanity's expert on offworld disaster management. He led the Gakrek famine relief," he said as they shook hands. "Whatever we end up deciding to do, you'll want him there. Unless we decide to do nothing, in which case, he'll probably go himself."

"Good. I'll also need your expert on… first contact protocol. And prep your public relations manager. When this thing leaks out to the New York Times first thing in the morning as we both know it's going to, you should be prepared for questions. Make sure it's someone who hasn't been briefed on our projects in the belt."

Then Hawthorne picked up her phone, and spoke into it. "Get me Secretary General Wilson. It's urgent. I believe she's still awake. It's only midday in the capital of Zakabara Prime right now."

Planetary Parliament, Zakabara Prime

Amanda Wilson wished that they'd imported the concept of air conditioning from Earth. Zakabara wasn't a warm planet. It was similar to Earth and most other planets in that there were warm places and cool places. In this instance, the planetary capital was in its summer season, and the Zakabaran sun was shining straight through the unfinished roof of the Parliamentary building.

She'd been asked to give a speech here by the newly elected Governor of Prime, and she delivered a passionate defense for free and fair institutions that could represent birds of every color and stripe. That even the supporters of the old regime would be given a voice. And that there be no reprisals against those that have committed no crime.

It was no easy task. The planetary war left many birds dead, homes broken, and allegiances torn apart. The rebels had won, but that didn't mean that all of Popptaw's followers disappeared into thin air. There were beginning to be reports of crimes committed against each other by civilians on both sides.

"It is time to put down our swords, and pick up our plowshares together," she had said to the birds.

Amanda prided herself on being able to read people and aliens alike, but here, she was not sure. Did her speech ring hollow, or were they merely contemplative of her words? Sure, humanity commanded respect throughout the stars, but would it be enough?

Historically on Earth, reconciliation was not a major priority after a civil war.

There were other worrying reports too. Some fringe factions of rebels were refusing to recognize the results of the election, claiming that they had not been given enough time to mount a campaign for their candidates or that the moderates had rigged the election in favor of the Governor. Clashes in the countryside between rival groups. Broken supply chains leading to shortages and hunger. And there were rumors that some birds had begun growing coca plants locally…

For Amanda, a student of political history, this was like watching a slow motion train wreck occur in front of her eyes. Which was why she requested a face-to-face meeting with Governor Shikoba. Shikoba was a busy creature, but nobody ignored the Secretary General of the Galactic Union.

"I know why you're here," the former leader of a rebel cell broke into a smile at Amanda as they finished the official greetings. "We get CNN here, and they sure don't paint a pretty picture, huh?"

"Yeah, our American pundits are already calling this Planet Afghanistan. I'm sure you get that reference there," she replied dryly. "I don't want to tell you how to run your planet, Shikoba, but you should know…"

"I do know. I was a student of your history," Shikoba assured her. "Even if the books your people passed around to us during The War only presented one side of it. We have the GalacticNet here. Don't worry, we are going to try to avoid the mistakes your species made in the past, in your revolutions and world wars and your never-ending conflicts…"

"The war to end all wars, eh?"

"Something like that," she continued, "we have the industrial capability to fight devastating planetary wars now, thanks to humanity. But with it also come the tools to make peace and bring unprecedented prosperity to my people! Together, Zakabarans will build a brighter future and be a shining planet on a hill, as your people would say, for the rest of the galaxy. An example for how they too can face the human revolution with peace and fairness!"

Though she resented the initial implication that humanity was responsible for industrial war, Amanda couldn't help but agree. And Shikoba did say humanity provided the key for advancement.

Amanda carefully thought about what she said next. She needed to know how Shikoba planned on governing. As usual for a diplomat, she decided that honesty was the best policy.

"This is a critical time in galactic history. As you know well: if your planet fails in this task, it would be a devastating blow to the development of other species as well, and it might turn our people away from caring about the galaxy."

Shikoba nodded. She, too, knew the full weight of her position. She succinctly pointed it out, "the fates of our two planets are tied now."

Amanda nodded and offered, "if nothing else, you should run your economic agenda by our experts and see what they have to say about what could work for Prime." She didn't believe for a second that Earth was the only place where economic insights could be found, but the combined brain power of two species was better than one.

"Yes! Of course! And we have," Shikoba replied. She started to explain.

"I'm sure you've heard of the Four Asian Tigers."

Washington DC, Earth

"Good afternoon, Ambassador Wilson," Secretary Hawthorne greeted as the call finally connected through.

"Hawthorne, great to hear your voice!" Amanda replied clearly over the FTL connection. Since they started their industrialization even before The War, Zakabara Prime had become one of the more advanced planets in the galaxy. Their growing telecommunications infrastructure was more than adequate for a simple audio call.

"How's clean up duty on Prime going?" Hawthorne asked cheekily.

"Well, someone has to do it."

The implications of the words were not lost on either women. Empowered by then-Senator Hawthorne, the CIA had given a sizable helping hand to the pro-humanity rebels in Zakabara during their war, and they hadn't exactly stuck around to fix the resulting mess after the conflict ended.

The people of Earth didn't want to foot the bill for an extended military intervention, but the opening of the markets on Prime was a massive opportunity for their businesses. Which was why the ambassador of Earth was on Prime looking for investment opportunities.

If they could stabilize the planet, it would be through uplifting their economy. As the tongue in cheek McDonald's theory of peace goes, developed societies fight fewer wars…

"And we're glad it's you. Intervening in a failed state is one thing," Hawthorne said smoothly. "Doing it to a failed planetary government would be so far out of our experience we wouldn't know where to start. The only way to do this is through economic development, like you mentioned in your speech at the GU."

"Right," Amanda replied skeptically. The swing states that elected Anna Hawthorne's boss host dozens of defense contractors that provide well-paying jobs. As much as Amanda wanted to believe in the best of humanity, she didn't exactly believe that the best of humanity ran for public office. "Anyway, I'm sure you didn't make the expensive long-distance call just to say hi. What's going on? Is the sky falling?"

Hawthorne grimaced.

"We've got to collectively stop making that joke as a species. Because yes, the sky is falling on Planet-39."