Professor Trill was standing in the bridge of the cruiser. Some might say he was posing, as if a painter was putting onto canvas a historic moment of significance. His chin was elevated. It was a historic moment, mostly in his mind. He was the one that finally turned it around. He moved his comms bracelet to his mouth.
“Ladies and gentlemen. I’ll give it to you as simply as I can. You are not to kill the natives. We retrieve the historian and the writer. We take all of the tech and then we leave. If we can’t take it, we destroy it. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” came a chorus of voices of young men and women.
“Allor the magnificent, or whatever they call him. He’s the key. We capture the king and control the entire board.”
“Remember when we used to do that on assignments?” said Eflin with a smile to Indira.
“My stomach would always get in knots,” replied Wingut.
“Really? Mine too,” replied Eflin.
“My first mission was delayed for almost twenty tox because I was in the toilet with cramps,” said Wingut.
“I threw up the first time I killed,” said Indira. “And cried.”
“I cried too,” said Eflin.
“Once we are on the planet, I am the only person with kill authority. The only one, girls and boys. Do you understand me?” Trill said with a sneer.
“Sir, yes sir,” came the chorus back to Trill’s smiling face.
“Sir, should we go in shielded?” asked one of the men on the team.
“No.”
“What about the quarantine?” the man asked in reply.
“That is a wholly owned construct of the History department. Besides, we’re going to wipe them. And don’t forget we will help this planet move towards meeting contact criteria once the culling is over,” replied Trill.
Please permit me to interrupt for just a moment to point out that when the entire population wake up without any memory and in a state much like a newborn baby, well, as you can imagine, survival rates will be rather slim. 92 percent will die. Any variance is down to the curiosity of those who wake up in the farming community.
“Captain. Please have the satellite systems start scanning for unununtrium,” said Trill.
“Yes, sir,” the man with the deep voice replied.
Unununtrium is a rare metal that is not naturally occurring in the universe. However, it is included in most advanced propulsion devices, electronic books, and bacterial suppositories. It is made from the death of its parent material, unununcrium, which only lives milliseconds before collapsing into unununtrium, a material with exceptional conductive and data-storage properties as well as being exceptionally badass in its attitude towards most problems associated with ingesting dirty water. The transformation from one element to another results in a rather loud popping sound, which scientists refer to as “unununfarting.”
“Sending to your screen, sir,” replied the captain.
“I’d like to see that,” said Wingut.
“Me too,” said Indira.
“Likewise,” said Eflin.
“Give it to everyone,” said Trill in an annoyed tone. He then bent one of his legs slightly like a girl in front of a camera. “OK. We’ve got a concentration. That’s where we go.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the captain.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you would kindly meet me at the airlock. A new era beckons,” said Trill. He stood in the doorway of the bridge in a dramatic stance.
The tricky thing about an airlock is nothing at all. One big button. Still, as he stood in front of everyone in the airlock, Professor Trill forgot the most basic thing and ran towards the control panel on the hall, smacked the button hard with the palm of his hand, and then dove out of the spaceship without having activated his personal transportation device. He immediately recognized this problem as he emerged into the upper atmosphere over Earth 7, which happens to be devoid of oxygen, a necessary component for human life.
Most people would desperately turn on their PPS and their personal transportation device. But Professor Trill is not most people. He forgot about the personal protection suit entirely and spent all of his effort in activating his personal transportation device as he floated aimlessly away from the cruiser.
Everyone else stood at the edge of the spaceship, all of them now surrounded by their protective golden bowls, and stared at an idiot floating in space. But within a few tix Professor Trill managed to set everything right and turned around and waved, and everyone smiled as his golden bubble began to descend to the planet.
"Can you believe that shit?" asked Captain Erlog.
"Yes," replied Wingut with a smile.
As they descended to the planet, Eflin pointed to the horizon and another cruiser that was making a final backup deployment of satellites from the Psychology Department.
And while you think it’s been rough when you wake up with a hangover and aren’t sure where you are for a moment or two, I can assure you that waking up and not knowing sweet all must be many times more horrifying. Unless, of course, there are nipples involved. They seem to make everything a little less frightening under most circumstances.