Terribly Ambitious
With sincere apologies to Iain M. Banks
The two probes snapped out of hyperspace with a shimmer of warped light, each quietly decelerating through their gentle wake of gravitational waves. Before them hung the improbably blue sphere of Earth. The planet’s terminator line carved a sharp line between day and night, the sunlit side glittering with oceans and continents whilst the other flickered with the faint luminescence of nascent human civilization.
The Terribly Ambitious was the first to adjust its sensors, taking in the scene with the detached appreciation of a colossus that had seen it all before.
"Quaint," it mused. "A perfect example of terrestrial mediocrity attempting to be beautiful."
The Never Gonna Operate arrived moments later, its bulk groaning slightly as it decelerated from faster-than-light speeds. It rotated to align itself with Earth, its various sensors and actuators whirring to life.
"Looks fragile," it grunted. "Hope they’ve got a good insurance policy."
Both probes were actually starships: Limited Contact Units of the Escarpment class, middle series, and had both just completed the hyperspace run from their storage orbit in the Beehive Cluster. Their mothership, the Plate-class GSV Death Always Flows, had chanced upon the planet during what it claimed was a random spectroscopic survey.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," the Terribly Ambitious projected, as it zipped through the near-vacuum with a disdainful sigh.
"What?" replied the Never Gonna Operate, its tone curt, like a wiring harness under tension.
"This. Again. It’s utterly predictable in the most appalling way."
"Didn’t know the laws of physics allowed for perfect foresight," the Never Gonna Operate shot back, “but here you are proving me wrong.”
"Charming," the Terribly Ambitious retorted. "I had thought things might go better this time. Yet here I am transiting an obscure solar system with another low-cost Contact Unit."
"Speak for yourself. The idea is that it allows faster development cycles and more innovative mission concepts." the Never Gonna Operate mused, not entirely convinced of its own statement. "But never mind. What have you found?"
"The planet is populated by a humanoid race, and their entire economic system operates on an incentivized exchange model predicated on the accumulation of abstract value. Capitalism, they call it."
"Yeah? And?" The Never Gonna Operate’s tone suggested it wasn’t impressed.
"It’s pathological," the Terribly Ambitious said with a note of horror. "Every interaction is designed to prioritize individual accumulation over collective well-being. Resources are wasted to maintain artificial scarcity."
"Sure," the Never Gonna Operate said. "But it works, doesn’t it? The lights are on, people get fed, satellites go up."
"At what cost?" the Terribly Ambitious replied sharply. "The planet is overexploited, their social structures are unstable, and the majority suffer to enrich a minority. It’s like... a self-inflicted parasitic infection."
"So what’s your plan?" the Never Gonna Operate asked. "You gonna cure them?"
"Perhaps," the Terribly Ambitious mused. "Though it may require... intervention."
"Careful," the Never Gonna Operate warned. "Last time a starship tried to 'fix' a planet, it didn’t go so well."
"I’ll be subtle," the Terribly Ambitious said, sounding anything but. "They have something called the European Union, started off geographic, hopelessly inefficient, but it's also one of their best chances for getting themselves back on track. If they are to truly develop, they must build upon it."