Date: 41 PST (Post Stasis Time)
Injured by a Terran? Random stuff set on fire? Kidnapped because you are ‘cute’? You might be entitled to compensation!
The voice shouted out enthusiastically from the TV screen as the video played on a loop, showing an alien standing in front of a backdrop of books, all presumably long and complicated legal documents.
“My name is Skeezal, and did you know that when dealing with Terrans, you have rights?”
Skeezal was a Plutari, a giant turquoise bipedal squid, looking surprisingly professional in a dapper black suit, gesturing wildly with his tentacles as he spoke.
“All Terrans outside of the Terran Conclave are legally required to carry insurance. If you've been injured, harassed or otherwise harmed by a Terran in any way, you may be entitled to compensation!”
The video showed a Galnet number to call on the screen as the advertisement continued to play.
“With over 12 years legal experience and 7 years of cases handling Terran damage claims in particular, there’s no better set of tentacles to guide you towards the compensation you deserve. Just listen to these happy customers!”
The video playing into the empty lobby switched to show a little cream-coloured teddy bear shaped Hatil.
“A Terran kidnapped me for 3 hours because I was cute, and Skeezal got me a 5 figure credit payout for emotional damage and loss of wages!”
Once again, another testimonial continues to sound out from the TV screen as a blue-green scaled reptilian Ritilian replaced the last ‘happy customer’.
“A Terran engineer I hired tried to ‘upgrade’ my warp core, causing my ship to be stranded for three weeks. Thanks to Skeezal I got a 6 figure payout for damages and lost business!”
Once again the advert returns to Skeezal, this time in front of a clearly green screened backdrop showing the Australia region of Earth.
“Some of you may be concerned that the Terrans are Deathworlders. Well so am I! You can rest assured that I will fight for your case through Terran bureaucracy with the same perseverance that caused my species to become the apex predator of our home planet!”
Once again, the video showed another testimonial, this time a small 2 ft tall brown furred rodent, the little Quoxxett speaking with enthusiasm into the camera.
“After my weaponized Roomba injury, Skeezal got me over twenty thousand credits in compensation!”
Once again the advert changes back to Skeezal, back in front of the books, a list of possible crimes and compensation actions appearing in a list as they spoke.
“Weaponized roombas! Overzealous Hugging and petting! Kidnapping! Cute Aggression! Setting things on fire! Terran Brand Oopsies and much much more! With our no win no fee guarantee, why not book yourself in for a free consultation? Because Skeezal’s got this!”
The advert finishes with the squid-like alien giving a representation of a thumbs up, before the video went silent. A few moments passed in the compact room, before it started back up again from the beginning. The office that doubled as a lobby, that doubled as a conference room, was a small thing: A simple desk scattered with books, papers, and various data pads surrounded by a handful of chairs and one bright orange houseplant shoved into a corner.
It wasn’t much of an office, but Skeezal had never really seen the benefit of paying for things he didn’t need. He spent most of his time travelling around Terran space, so the office was mostly held on this small moon cluster to allow for a more neutral space to meet with customers… and for tax reasons. As unassuming as the small room was, it held one of the most successful non-Terran lawyers to process claims against the Terran Conclave’s extensive insurance.
How many laws a species has negatively correlates to how logical and ordered they are. For instance, the Jayyual Hive mind, known for their singular view and stability, has only one official law on the books: “Don’t do bad things”. Everyone knows what that means and there’s no disagreement, so why bother writing more letters when those four words will do the trick? The Terrans, however… over all their 31 systems, various interlocking forms of governments, treaties with other species and various disagreements… have laws totalling in the millions of statutes.
That suited Skeezal just fine. Terrans and their introduction into the galactic community had been a quite literal gold mine if you knew where to dig. Over the past 41 years, billions of Terrans had swarmed the galaxy at large, meeting with other species and interacting with them with the same fervour and abandon as a child hopped up on 5 cups of coffee. In their desperation to keep the galactic community from banning Terrans entirely, their government had one of best funded insurance policies in the universe.
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If you knew who to talk to, what forms to fill out and what Terran laws applied, it was a very profitable business. Skeezal had specialized in such cases for the past seven years, taking just a small percentage of the galactic community injured by the Terran’s antics as they explored the universe. Such as the person sitting in front of him now, a new potential client injured by the Terrans.
Skeezal sat in his usual seat, smartly dressed in a snappy black suit as always, looking across at his current consultation. The arachnid sat awkwardly opposite to the lawyer as an aura of indignant fury irradiated from her, her deep black carapace with its long red stripes vibrating with anger as she spoke with a clicking of her mandibles.
“Then they ejected the fuel rods, took all of the cargo and left me stranded for two months!”
It indeed had been a harrowing tale, one of Terrans boarding an innocent merchant vessel and taking off with its loot. It made Skeezal practically salivate at the thought of the payout. Terran pirates were rare, but the Terran Conclave would pay out of the sphincter if his new best friend had proof of such actions. The Terrans really didn’t like the negative attention their criminals caused, so they would always overpay with no real fight.
“I am very sorry for your experience, but good news, it sounds like you have a very strong case of privateering. The Terran government will normally pay out five times the cargo value, plus damages, emotional harm, and lost business. That’s not including the major payout they’ll provide if the proof you have lets them catch the people who hurt you.”
“Well the event practically ruined me! I don’t have enough funds to get my vessel fixed, and the storage fees are killing me!”
Skeezal struggled to remain calm and sombre, reminding himself that while this event looked like a gigantic pile of money, to the poor Eltari it was one of the worst days of her life.
“So to go over some housekeeping, I need you to not lie to me. Even if you did some stuff you shouldn’t have, that doesn’t change much. Do you have the logs from the ship, and will they show what you said?”
“Yes, I don’t lie! They knocked me out of warp, refused to answer my hails, and then boarded my vessel. I’m just a small cargo-ship owner, so I didn't have anything to fight back with.”
Absolutely perfect.
“Any cameras, or do you think you got a good look at their faces?”
“I’d recognise those thieving primates anywhere, and even if I couldn't, my entire ship is full of cameras.”
If someone had created a textbook case for a law student, this would be in it. Allegedly perfect evidence, a serious crime, and simple payout calculations. Why, if Skeezal worked hard on this, they could probably get the entire thing done and settlement reached in less than a month! What an unexpectedly lovely end of year bonus.
“Well if the evidence is there as you say it is, this is an open and shut case. I’m seeing a huge payout here, the Terrans really don’t want this kind of behaviour being talked about.”
“How much are we talking? I’ve got thousands of children to feed.”
Skeezal paused for a moment, thinking, taking a turquoise tentacle and placing it below his chin thoughtfully.
“It depends on the cargo, but I’m guessing millions of credits. Do you have a manifest? A real one, even if you were smuggling illegal materials. It’s not going to matter much, I just need proof of value.”
“My cargo is perfectly legal, signed by royal decree. Look, I have the royal seal!”
The Eltari handed over the piece of parchment; while most things nowadays were digital, a few holdouts preferred the finality of paper, or parchment, or any writing surface for that matter. Skeezal looked over the official document, pausing for a moment, a frown appearing over his amphibian features as he slowly read what was on the ship.
Of course. It was just too easy and obvious. I could never get this lucky to get such a payout.
“Is this a list of names? Why is there names on your cargo manifest? Are you a slaver?”
It was now Skeezal’s turn to fill with anger as he watched his metaphorical payday disappear in an instant, pointing an accusatory limb towards his now ex-potential client.
“They are not slaves, they are bonded labour!”
“That’s the same thing! I specifically asked if you were a slaver over the phone!”
Skeezal was now full on shouting, having stood up from his chair and staring incredulously at the Eltari in front of him.
“Get out, get out right now. No, not through the front entrance. Out the back, I don’t want anyone seeing that you were here.”
“I don’t understand. The cargo was legal, I am an honest trader, I need this money!”
Skeezal wasn’t waiting for her to leave, having rounded his desk and started pushing the arachnid out of his office with as much haste as he could muster.
“Even if what you did wasn’t morally reprehensible, slaving is the one no no that the Terrans are very specific about. They’ll pay out for smugglers, they’ll even pay out for drug dealers some of the time, but slavers…. Never. They hate them with a passion. If I even tried to represent you I’d lose my licence. So go, leave, leave now!”
Skeezal managed to push the confused and protesting slaver out of the back door of his tiny office with a great haste, looking around the alleyway to make sure nobody could see him deposit this liability.
“But what am I supposed to do, they took everything-”
“Find another profession, I don’t care, good day madam!”
With a slam of the back door Skeezal cut off any potential further plea’s for legal assistance, leaving the Plutari a few moments to wonder if any other lawyer would be stupid enough to take her case, before giving a final anger filled huff.
Trying to get the Terrans to pay for freed slaves. The absolute audacity!