A Ruff Job 

Overall it was a complex task, this surreptitiously investigating and documenting the alien species of the various planets in this quarter of the Galaxy, but someone had to do it, and they had been doing it here on this quite unremarkable rock for nearly fifteen thousand years. Of course, one had to accept that one was going to be born and die here, never (except perhaps for a very privileged few – the ‘over-seers’) seeing the home of their own species, Sirius, except as a bright dot in this planet’s winter night sky, but even then, only on those occasions when one was permitted to do so.

It wasn’t a difficult life, though. Their day to day needs were met by others, mainly the planet’s highest form of life which had wholeheartedly welcomed them from the very day of their arrival long ago. They had been fed, cared for and sometimes it seemed, almost worshipped. Friendship was their sole payment in return. And sometimes, sadly, they had been the only friends of their caregivers.

The task in itself was quite simple: observe and if and whenever possible, interact with all planetary lifeforms, record the information resulting from these observations and interactions and transfer it to the over-seers to be conveyed to the home world for in-depth analysis. In this last part they had no involvement. They knew only the goal: to assess the prospects for the eventual takeover of the planet. It hadn’t taken long to determine that it would very likely be successful and that it would be accomplished with a minimum of resistance from the planet’s residents. Why then had it not progressed?

The problem was the extreme distance separating the two planets and the relatively slow speed of travel of their spacecraft. Ergo the many thousands of years of continuous investigation and no moving on.

So, in execution of this duty, if and when permitted they ventured out from their habitations to drop off their reports, usually along the well-travelled paths used by the caregivers themselves. They took time, some of them quite passionately, to familiarize themselves with the reports of others; the many others working on this seemingly endless task. However there was no certainty that their data would be received by the over-seers and regardless, one never knew if this had taken place for the over-seers were indistinguishable from any other of them.

But sometime not too long ago it had become clear that some one or some thing was onto them. Some of the caregivers had begun to intercept their reports, to then shield them in a mysterious material that rendered them indecipherable and then often, but not always, to place the reports where they were inaccessible to any of them, including the over-seers. This seemed to be more frequent where the concentration of caregivers was greatest, yet so far, thankfully, it was not all that common. Strange that was.

Some had ventured that it was possible and not unprecedented that they were not the only alien species investigating this planet and that others were stealing their data. Subterfuge had therefore become necessary. Sneaking off the beaten path to place one’s data where it would not be easily found by the others had become the norm. Still, one never knew the certainty of it all.

Regardless, the process of data collection and dissemination had to be done and it was being done, for who knew when the end might come and what part they would play in the eventual conquest of the planet. No one here did.

Therefore it must continue. A ruff job.

Despite the personal cost, the risks and hardships.