Earth Seven by Steve M - HTML preview

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CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

Professor Leo Trill, head of the Sociology Department, was running his remedium over his head. He did this twice a day. If he didn’t, his hair would fall out. And Leo was very proud of his hair. It was long and it was carefully styled. For an academic office, there were quite a few mirrors.

Professor Ugo Droka was seated across from him. Trill looked at his protégé and smiled.

“He’ll be out for at least one hundred revs. Three hundred if you want my personal opinion. He was a mess when I saw him,” Trill said.

“His poor family,” replied Professor Droka. “His children are grown, thankfully,” he added.

“His oldest daughter teaches at Secondus Abion,” replied Trill. “I spoke to her dean and helped her get a leave of absence.”

“Sociology?” Droka asked.

“Medicine,” replied Trill in a disappointed tone.

“Some people just aren’t big-picture people,” said Droka with a judgmental tone.

“Indeed,” replied Trill.

“Still, we’ve got the head of consulting down. This could cost us interdepartmental transfers. I didn’t like the bastard, not one bit. He was arrogant. How dare he be arrogant with me! He didn’t even attend Centrum Kath until his Ph.D. But Maxito brought in the transfers.”

“He was good at that,” Droka agreed.

“We are going to need replacement income for the department,” replied Trill.

“What do you have in mind?” asked Droka.

“Quarantines.”

“That again,” replied Droka with a little bit of disappointment in his tone. Trill started talking with his hands even before the words came out of his mouth.

“History gets just over one billion per planet. We only need one of them to fill the funding hole from Mixita until he comes back or his replacement returns us to our current funding levels. And we need to end this insult to the Sociology Department. We need quarantines.”

I should point out that Professor Trill is being less than honest with his use of the term insult. True, the Sociology Department does not control and is not the primary influencer on any planets currently. However, this was not always the case.

The Sociology Department hasn’t been allowed to run any planets in almost three hundred thousand revs. The last time they did, it came to a disgraceful end when Professor Albert was found to be personally running a planet in quarantine. He was making everyday decisions for a group of humans that weren’t even supposed to know there were others of us out in the universe. And they worshiped him in their ignorance. “Lord Albert,” they called him.

Making matters worse were the three hundred women that gave birth to children that shared Professor Albert’s DNA. The Albert Affair reduced funding for the Sociology Department for over two kilorevs and caused a strict prohibition for planets to come under Sociology control.

Within the department, it is known as “Albert’s disgrace.” But if he were a painter and if the planet were Polynesia, well, the opinions may have been different.

 

“How many are there now?” asked Droka.

“Thirty-seven in total,” replied Trill.

“How much does a sponsored chair cost?”

“Now you’re thinking,” replied Trill with a smile. “We could have thirty-seven new sponsored chairs in the department and have plenty of change to spare. Fund the agent program and maybe even some joint behavioral studies with the Psychos (Psychology Department) or things along those lines.”

“Thirty-seven new chairs. That would be big news across the galaxy. Just imagine the fighting to get one of those positions,” replied Droka with a chuckle.

“Yes, just imagine,” said Trill with a grin.

“But we have fallback positions, no?” asked Droka.

“Yes. We’ll take a smaller number, of course, but we must argue for statistical significance and try to hold the line at thirty planets,” replied Trill.

“And our drop-dead, last-ditch, do-or-die position?” asked Droka.

“Earth 7. We must at least get control of Earth 7.”

“And what happens if we get Earth 7?” asked Droka.

“Then we will need a governor to run it. Someone that will be stationed on Earth 7 getting them ready to meet the contact criteria.”

“How far are they from meeting them?” Droka asked, touching his face with his index finger.

“As far as you can get. They currently meet none of them.”

“That will take a strong hand and harsh discipline,” replied Droka.

“Indeed. That is why we are having this conversation. Our first twenty agents have completed training. There will be another hundred within the next thirty revs. Then one hundred every thirty revs.”

“Until we run out of money.”

“Until we run out of money,” Trill replied with a nod.

“Fitzcaraldo will support us,” Trill replied.

“A traitor to his own,” replied Droka.

“No. Our favorite histo,” replied Trill with a fake tone of admonishment and a chuckle.