by D.L. Morrese
~*~
The corporation never abducted anyone. Such an act would be a violation of Galactic Federation law. They simply harvested the necessary cells from unwitting donors on their native planets and bred a separate population on the project planets. Humanoid nursery androids raised and cared for the first generation of primitives born here. After that, they allowed things to proceed more haphazardly. This particular village did not have a NASH android currently assigned to it, but nursery androids of the same basic type continued to operate in some others as surrogate grandparents of a sort, often in the roles of healers or storytellers to help ensure stability or social harmony even now that the species was self-sustaining.
The cell extraction caused the donors no harm, although no one consulted them on the matter. It would be not only pointless but also dangerous to do so. The resulting myths and legends could pollute their natural development. This remained one of the strictest regulations on interstellar commerce enforced by the Galactic Federation.
The law resulted from a political compromise made many thousands of years before. One party wanted to prohibit interference of any kind with emerging species. Another advocated treating them as natural resources that could be claimed and developed by whatever individual, group, or company that discovered them. The compromise ultimately satisfied both parties. The first accepted it because most species limited to only one planet normally become extinct before long, so allowing businesses to breed them on other planets provided a charitable means to prevent this. The second party was actually relieved they did not get all they wanted after certain unfortunate events on one of the project planets of a major contributor caused a sharp drop in the company’s stock value. It became clear after this that some primitive species tend to object, often very expensively, if they learn they are being ‘developed.’
The law as passed allowed the transfer of non-sentient biological material from one planet to another, but it prevented businesses from disrupting the natural physical or cultural evolution of any sentient species on its native planet. Once a species independently developed the ability to travel the stars, it could be regarded as a potential customer, and different regulations applied, most of those heavily weighted in favor of the business community, especially the large corporations, which generously contributed to political campaigns.
Companies were allowed far more leeway when it came to species living on planets that did not spawn their evolution, however, even when they were introduced by the company involved. The major restriction was that the transplanted species must be provided with a level of technology and culture considered at least equal to those it already achieved on its own at the time of its discovery. Once established on a different planet, members of that species fell into a legal gray area somewhere between employees and domestic livestock. Individuals in either category could not be abused, endangered, or cheated. The legal definitions for all of these were so vague that companies were usually considered compliant as long as the primitives seemed content and healthy. In questionable cases, interstellar corporate lawyers sometimes argued that establishing the colony outweighed any minor concerns because it spread the primitive’s species, which is, of course, the goal of all life.
Despite this, the various star-faring civilizations that comprised the Federation did not see the relatively free hand extended to large businesses as a license to exploit their primitive workers. Quite the contrary. Companies paid their advertisers well to ensure the public knew that the businesses were benefiting the poor savages in ways they could not possibly comprehend. After all, any sentient species they discovered would probably become extinct on its own. This was most often the case. Based on statistical analysis of millennia of data, for every one hundred sentient races that emerge, ninety-nine would die out without ever achieving a written language, if left on their own. Forty would succumb to natural disasters or climate fluctuations, thirty to disease, twenty to predators, and the rest to incredible stupidity.
Of the one percent that did eventually achieve the ability to pass on information in written form to subsequent generations, most died out before attaining anything resembling the wisdom or technology necessary to venture to the stars. It seemed such a shame after overcoming such hurdles, but most self-destructed, sometimes intentionally, or at least mutually assuredly. The odds were not good.
One race, the botraques, died out when a religious leader came up with the concept of heaven. His followers found the idea so enticing they could not wait to get there and began dying through self-flagellation for imagined sins, prolonged fasting, and other efforts to obtain spiritual purity. It was a great time for the planet’s lowly scavengers but rather unfortunate for the botraques, which otherwise exhibited a great deal of potential.
Because of this, Federation laws looked upon the removal of genetic material from primitive sentient species as a legitimate conservation effort, the costs of which companies could recoup by humanely utilizing the collected genetic material to raise workers for their businesses. The plan benefited everyone concerned.
In the history of the Galactic Federation, there has only been one recorded mishap related to this policy. It involved the krutons. The Xcuse Mining Corporation first discovered them on a planet around a star in the Scutum-Crux spiral arm. From all outward appearances, the krutons were a clearly sentient and docile vegetarian species with no outward signs of sophisticated technology. When the automated survey probes went down to the planet, they were immediately met by a delegation of natives wearing plant fiber togas and beatific expressions. Using what was assumed to be some kind of radio transmission, they telepathically announced that they were on vacation and did not wish to be disturbed.
This was enough to send the confused survey probes back to their ship, which sent out a call to its home base for further instructions. Given the immense distances involved, they received a reply forty-two years later. By this time, Federation commercial scout ships had discovered four other planets populated by krutons. An ancient artificial satellite orbited one of these. It lay dormant until the survey ship approached, but as it neared, the seemingly dead orbiter powered up and broadcast a short and simple radio message in various languages.
“Please be advised that we are no longer open to unsolicited requests for contact with sentient species. We’ve tried that, studied it, and found it has only limited survival value. If you persist in your efforts, we will, of course, be happy to demonstrate this point.”
A scan of the satellite indicated a vast array of weaponry, much of which remained largely incomprehensible to Federation physicists but which appeared to be able to warp the fabric of spacetime into tiny and incredibly dense knots or, more disturbingly, undo existing knots that gave a semblance of separate existence to matter. The Galactic Federation designated the krutons the first, and hopefully only, post-sentient species ever discovered and declared them off limits.
The Xcuse corporate headquarters instructed their survey ship to deploy warning buoys.