We're not talking about the accumulating space debris situation, which is rapidly getting out of hand and could easily be mistaken for the aftermath of some kind of cataclysmic robot war. It's the fact that war in space is quickly becoming a reality. And orbital conflicts won't feature plucky farmhands behind the controls of agile starfighters -- it will involve unmanned craft firing missiles and unleashing laser and/or microwave arrays on each other.

Some even more unsettling scenarios could see space ships sneaking up on satellites to spray paint over their optics systems, or physically wrestling them into submission like a T-800 left unsupervised around a naive "I just want to be friends" Johnny Five.

Johnny Five was technically never "alive," but he's sure as s**t dead now.

In a surprise twist to exactly no one, China and Russia are apparently at the forefront of "counterspace" technology. And that fancy word is simply a less terrifying way of saying that they're spending a fortune on hardware that's specifically designed with the intention of "destroying, damaging, and interfering with the enemy's reconnaissance ... and communications satellites," and to "blind and deafen the enemy." And in case you're confused, the "enemy" they're referencing is "all you guys in the Uncle Sam Fan Club."

Cons: All that. Pros: No more talk radio.

It isn't a stretch to imagine a not-too-far-off cosmic future in which hundreds of metallic orbiting contraptions are alternately trading fire and getting into flanking position to physically pummel one another like they're a bad Hugh Jackman movie. And while this sort of situation may indicate to outside observers that our species is capable of intelligence, it may also be viewed as the type of intelligence that tends to get unanimous "Yea" votes during intergalactic extermination tribunals.

If any of this sounds familiar, it's because we're also describing the process of creation used by the Engineers in Prometheus, who seed Earth itself with the microbial foundations of the human race. Or better yet, Little Shop Of Horrors, in which an alien race of blood-sucking monsters attempt an Earth takeover by posing as innocent Venus flytraps.

Warner Brothers Pictures
"And I would've gotten away with it, if it weren't for those meddling focus groups!"

Terraforming a planet with human-friendly bacteria sounds great in theory, but how exactly do we plan to eventually move into these new outposts and colonies after we've coated the surface in armor-clad, presumably ravenous space worms? Seriously, how many sci-fi/horror movies have seen the same scenario play out with tragic results?

Universal Home Entertainment
And if we won't listen to cheesy direct-to-DVD flicks, what will we listen to?

And keep in mind that the first impression that an alien intelligence may have of us may not be from a face-to-face meeting, but with the monsters we've been Johnny Appleseeding across the known galaxy. If you were in their shoes, could you really see yourself not calling for reinforcements from their version of Starfleet Command to address the menace of the human race?

Musk has already gone on the record in regards to his unhealthy fascination with Mars, and how he's sure that we'll eventually settle there (likely amongst the aforementioned mutant abominations). What separates Musk from the vast herd of stargazing dreamers, however, is that fact that he is devising a plan of action. Or reaction (in the fission sense), since it will involve the launching of massive nuclear bombs to expedite the global warming process.

He doesn't want them to impact the planet's surface, though. The theory goes that if several "very large by our standards, but very small by calamity standards" fusion bombs were to go off in the vicinity of Mars' poles, it would result in the creation of tiny, "temporary" pulse suns. This unprovoked attack would theoretically result in a greenhouse effect taking place on the planet's surface, but with a possible side effect of raising DEFCON 5 alarms from any "hostile species outbreak" surveillance systems put in place by an ET version of the United Nations.

When Lance Ulanoff of Mashable asked Musk if he was excited about the discovery of water on Mars during a recent event in Manhattan, Musk's response was "yeah, that's good," and he followed up with a detailed description of his doomsday -- er, terraforming -- strategy for the red planet. We're not sure if his quotes can be taken verbatim from this conversation, as it's understandably difficult to follow a complicated train of thought when the subject of your interview is presumably rubbing his hands together constantly, refusing to blink, and frequently pausing to cackle.

Asa Mathat
Instead of a fluffy cat, he prefers to fondle a terrifying robotic fuel snake.

When Musk shared his plan with a packed crowd at that same event, he was met with a thunderous round of ... stunned silence. Undeterred, he went on to explain away the panicked apprehension by pointing out how "a lot of people don't appreciate that our sun is a giant fusion explosion." Well, that may be all well and good, Imperial Grand Moff Musk (we're going to start calling him that to stay on the safe side), but we'd appreciate it if you focused more on electric cars for a while, on the off-chance that one of your bright ideas turns downtown Palo Alto into a "giant fusion explosion."

And that's why we've begun the development of robotic space spiders.

Tethers Unlimited
If that's too unsettling of a description, you can go ahead and call them "galactic techno-squid."

More specifically, these arachnid-like droids are called "SpiderFabs," and will do the work of constructing and repairing satellites for us up there in the wild black yonder. This means we'll be able to launch the equivalent of an erector set package, and the spiders will construct or 3D print whatever we want in the lawlessness of space. In other words, according to their creators, we'll be able to "launch the process, not the product" Obviously, the SpiderFabs could be put to use constructing things other than satellites, and it's probably best that we not dwell too much on how they seem to have purposefully named the components (KRAKEN arms, spinneret extruders) in the most ominous ways possible.

NASA / Tethers Unlimited
"Service in the Interplanetary SpiderCorps guarantees citizenship. Will you do your part?"

And if you were hoping that you'd be long dead before the days of the fabricating insecto-droids (not to mention the submersible robot worms we're planning to send into the oceans of Saturn's moons) were upon us, we have some unfortunate news: We're already building them. Here's that CEO we quoted earlier, Rob Hoyt, along with one of his creations, which might one day help him to achieve another one of his dreams: to "capture an asteroid for study by enveloping it in a giant bag and towing it to lunar orbit."

Erika Schultz / The Seattle Times
And later, presumably, to find a way to pinpoint the location of the elusive rebel base on Hoth.

The Death Star didn't happen overnight. Surely, there must have been countless prototypes and failed experiments before the Empire acquired the capability to inexplicably level an entire planet that didn't have a single Ewok or Gungan living on it. Something like ... let's see ... maybe a space shotgun?

In a move that was clearly inspired by Marvin the Martian, a robotics company is developing a gun for use in studying asteroids. The logic is that we need to learn about space rocks for future missions, but retrieving samples is the worst. We can't tell how big and heavy they are from afar, or if they're made of squishy gelatinous substances that we'll call "space jam" for now. So before we capture one and cut it up while screaming "You'll never Armageddon / Deep Impact us!" we need a decent idea of the material we're looking at.

Walt Disney Studios Motion Pictures
A refund for paying to look at that material wouldn't hurt, either.

Enter the space shotgun. This thing will shoot three different kinds of projectiles into a rock to figure out what kind of rock we're dealing with. Adorably, the first pellets look like paintballs. If they crack open and splatter paint all over the target, that tells us something about how hard the rock is. Then, the robot shotgun will try shooting a bouncy ball. The velocity of the ball's rebound will tell scientists something about how strong the rock is. And finally, they shoot it with a bullet, supposedly so we can get information about the asteroid's density. But we all know better. Somebody wants to shoot guns at space rocks, and they've figured out the perfect excuse to pull it off.

For now, the gun can't blast asteroids into smithereens, Atari-style. But who are we kidding? We know what's coming. It's only a matter of time before there are secondary systems put into place which are fully capable of vaporizing slow-moving, saucer-like targets of opportunity for a quick 200 points.

In space, no one can hear you bum-bum-bum-bum-BWA-WA-WA-WA-WA.

Oh, and let's not forget that we aren't totally sure that asteroids aren't water-free zones yet. Which means we could be shooting our space guns at someone else's Earth. And speaking of which ...

According to a report from NBC, the Curiosity rover is behaving in a way that's less inquisitive than it is ... homicidal. It seems that one of the primary targets the rover is after is a mineral called jarosite, which can be an indicator of the presence of organic life forms. And in order to find this mineral, the Curiosity conducts tests by "flash heating" the soil -- which is widely recognized as not being too conducive to maintaining life. In other words, "the testing method could eliminate what it's looking for in the process."

NASA is well aware of this quandary, but they figure that the process won't kill everything, so maybe we'll eventually run across something we haven't flame-broiled yet. And if that doesn't work, there's always the LIFE Project, which proposes that we take the hardiest (and arguably most disturbing) creatures from our own neck of the woods and fire them off into the unknown to see what happens.

Dr. William Miller / Saguaro National Park
We'll send the ones Mother Nature already blessed with a hazmat suit, just in case.

You might recognize that little fella as the tardigrade, or water bear -- a species which can survive in environments so extreme that they could make a cockroach's head explode. These minuscule monstrosities are slated to be crew members on the LIFE (Living Interplanetary Flight Experiment) Project, which intends to test the "transpermia" hypothesis by seeding the heavens with them and other insidious microorganisms. You know, to see if life can migrate from planet to planet. This is basically the same way Invasion Of The Body Snatchers probably happened.

United Artists
The one and only explanation for why dogs end up looking like their owners.

In 2012, the LIFE project got their plan off the ground, getting a biomodule full of bacteria on one of Russia's three-year missions to a Martian moon. The Universe disagreed that this was a good idea, and the Russian mission never left Earth's orbit before it plunged into the Pacific.

E. Reid Ross also snuggles with spiders over at Man Cave Daily, and you can follow him on Twitter, if you're into that sort of thing.

Be sure to check out 5 Insane Theories About Why We Haven't Discovered Alien Life and 6 Reasons We're Closer To Discovering Aliens Than You Think.

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