Travel to the planet, activate the weapons, and high tail it out of there. The weight of this assignment is heavy. Heavier than anything I have ever experienced, but it has to happen. The enemy would do the same thing to us if they had the chance.
My ship is equipped with a pulse cannon that explodes on impact. But this isn’t just any explosion. The force actually causes an implosion and any planet it reaches sucks in on itself—the force pulling it inward until everything is condensed into a tight ball about five meters in diameter.
My mission is to destroy the enemy’s planet. My ship, a single-manned vessel, approaches the planet. It is beautiful, blue, serene. But I’m not going to let that deter me from my goal.
My hand presses the trigger and I watch as a bright yellow stream of color makes its way to the planet. And then, finally, it hits the surface, and in a matter of minutes the planet is being destroyed.
But in my trance of watching it all, I forget to leave immediately. As the planet implodes, and its gravitational force gets stronger, I too am pulled into the its grasp.
In my last moments, I wonder if I did the right thing. It was a heavy decision that weighed on me the entire time, and one that I will live with forever—even if it is only the next few seconds.