Durniak nodded sharply. “So either the Pavonians are a primitive species native to Dee Pee Three, or—”
“Or, similar to our own forebears, they were imported there.”
Gaspard’s hands seemed to flutter upward toward the ceiling. “What are you proposing: that Delta Pavonis was a game park where the zookeepers were little green men?”
“No, but we must explore all possible answers to Ms. Visser’s question of who brought humans to Dee Pee Three. Because that is the truly crucial issue of these Dialogs—not the discovery of the Pavonians.”
“Why?”
“Because, Ms. Visser, it means that there is not just one, but multiple exosapient species, and that at least one of them already had interstellar capability twenty thousand years ago. From a strategic standpoint, that’s rather daunting information.”
A dour silence: the practical ramifications were starting to hit home. Visser tapped her finger in cadence with her words. “So, now: why? Why move primitive species from one star to another?”
“Well, we can observe ourselves for some possible clues.”
“What do you mean, ‘observe ourselves’?”
“Ms. Visser, sometimes we extract animals from their native habitats simply to ensure their long-term survival.”
“Like the Bengal tiger and the panda bear.”
“Yes, and the same may have been done with us—or other species—that seemed interesting to an advanced exosapient race. But usually, we relocate species for more practical reasons.”
“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
Nodding, Durniak provided the answer: “He means like horses in the American West.”
“What?”
Durniak’s nod seemed to be contagious: Sukhinin’s head now bobbed in sync with hers. “Da: the cowboy on his mustang is a symbol of the United States—but just six hundred years ago, there was not one horse in America.”
Hollingsworth’s voice was only a murmur, as if she was remembering something from a history lesson thirty years ago. “Of course; they were brought by the Spanish.”
Visser was still staring at Caine. “So you are suggesting that almost twenty millennia ago, Neolithic humans were taken from Earth. But being so primitive, of what use would they have been to an interstellar culture?”
“Their primitiveness may have been exactly what made them useful: they couldn’t really resist, had no greater sense of the cosmos, had only rudimentary social structures. So what if an advanced race takes a few hundred Cro-Magnon and gives them three generations to safely reproduce—naturally or otherwise—while being taught to function in a post-industrial society? Only the original generation would experience any regret or disorientation. By the third generation, their offspring would be fully domesticated.”
Hollingsworth stared at Caine with raised eyebrows. “So you are saying that we were bred to be oxen—or lab rats?”
“Perhaps, but our lab rats and oxen don’t get special attention—or special buildings. However, other species have long been recipients of our extra care and consideration, species that lived closely with us, that were domesticated to assist us with important, even life-and-death tasks. Case in point: humans started by domesticating wolves: why?”
Sukhinin nodded again. “To hunt down the wild wolves.”
“Exactly. Our forebears fought fire with fire. They found creatures that could help with—or could wholly take over—tasks that were both important and dangerous.
“Now, let’s apply the same logic to the relocation of humans. There’s certainly no reason to use us for dragging around heavy objects: hell, we’re not particularly good at that. But to serve as overseers, builders, administrators, even soldiers for a race which does not want to be bothered with the dirty business of managing its own empire? History illustrates how very effective we might be in such a role—because we have done just that with other humans for millennia. Mr. Medina, you might tell us about the special class of mixed-race overseers that were once common on Brazil’s plantations. I could outline the role played by house slaves in the management of the field slaves in the antebellum American South. Ms. Hollingsworth might recount three hundred years of imperial management of the Raj, where the queen’s small British cadres directed an immense native infrastructure of bureaucrats, soldiers, even doctors and engineers, who served efficiently and loyally in the perpetuation of their own subjugation. What happened on Dee Pee Three may not have been very different.”
“And then what? These human servitors were simply abandoned? Were allowed to die out?”