Hmm, destroy themselves. What if Dod made some minor cosmological adjustments and increased the rate of fusion in the star's interior, pushing it to turn into a red giant prematurely and swallow the third planet. If the presence of a red giant had any effect on Dod's planet, it would be easy to adapt his artistic goals accordingly.
No, on second thought, a sudden red giant where he just happened to spend his semester of solitude would be one coincidence too many. But what about manipulating the atmosphere of the planet and increasing the temperatures somewhat above the melting point of its metal core?
No, no matter how he organized the process, it would look suspicious. Some professors would also insist on considering these primitive creatures on the third planet to be some kind of protected species. And anyway, Dod also didn't like the idea of killing lower life forms unnecessarily. These creatures were a nuisance for him, but that didn't mean they deserved to die.
These thought processes weren't getting him anywhere. It was obviously time for a stroll on the surface to clear his mind. His walk then lasted for the five rest cycles since Dod couldn't sleep and couldn't come up with any idea about what to do other than having his devices monitor the probe and hope it would just fly by.
It was definitely a good idea not to ask anyone for advice. The solitude he had here that already was so beneficial for his artistic endeavors would help his analytic skills. He trudged over the surface, breaking through the frozen crust over and over again. The planet's rocky satellite loomed overhead, looking more threatening than usual. Dod had never liked the satellite; it was a depressing shadow on his little world, something he had to work around to remake his planet into the vision he had in his head.
Hmm. He had never liked that moon anyway.
What if he made the satellite explode? Time for quick mental calculations. Nanobots had to drop to the center of the natural satellite and begin a controlled explosive process. If done efficiently, the mass of the satellite would be sufficient. He just needed enough force to push his planet out of its orbit and make it into a rogue planet on a new path through the galaxy. There would be some damage from the explosion, but Dod hadn't decided what to do with the surface yet anyway.
Mary Jo Rabe writes science fiction, modern fantasy, historical fiction, and crime or mystery stories, generally displaying a preference for what she defines as happy endings. Ideas for her fiction come from the magnificent, expanding universe, the rural environment of eastern Iowa where she grew up, the beautiful Michigan State University campus where she got her first degree, and the Black Forest area of Germany with its center in Freiburg where she worked as a librarian for 41 years before retiring to Titisee-Neustadt. News about her published stories is posted regularly on her blog: https://maryjorabe.wordpress.com/
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