Earth Seven

by Steve M.

  As a result of the Agreement of Historians, they get weekends off when they are not on a mission and one rev every ten revs even if they are on a mission. Nothing is that important that it can’t wait for a historian to have a bit of their life back. The strike went on for twenty-six revs before the department finally caved in to the demands.

  So while Koven would be risking his life trying to get back (or destroy) the technology from Earth 7, at least every ten days he would get a day off, so he wouldn’t have to die with insufficient social memories.

  “But Pron…” said Koven.

  “Stop it, Ko. This is your own doing. Shit your pants and keep moving forward.”

  “But it’s harder to kill someone that is running away” Koven replied

  “Cowardice is the mortal enemy of self-esteem.” —The Final McGee

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Tal stood beside Allor on the hilltop overlooking the river. It was a very secluded part of the river, where the trees bend over to shade the water from the sun. They both watched a woman down at the river’s edge. The woman with red hair had removed her clothes and then walked out into the water. She splashed water onto her breasts before submerging herself completely.

  “Her name is Ova,” said Tal.

  “The sister of Rom II?” asked Allor.

  “Yes. She is older than you but is in excellent health, and can wield a sword and a bow as well as any man in the Rom kingdom.”

  “Good to know,” replied Allor as he watched the woman break through the surface of the water then pat down her wild, curly hair.

  “Do you find her attractive?” Tal asked.

  “She is pretty. But it’s like I’ve already told you, I’m not liking this,” replied Allor.

  “But it’s time for Allor to take a bride,” replied Tal.

  “Why?”

  “Because The Expected will be stretched too thin with both Ceros and Niddler territories. That is hundreds of temples and tens of thousands of priests. And talk to Demos. He will confirm that his troops will also be spread too thin to withstand an attack. While we are out bringing the new territories under our command, our capital city and Grand Temple will be thinly guarded.”

  “So what has this to do with marriage?” Allor asked his mother.

  “The Confederation won’t attack as long as they are left alone. The Disciples of Earth can’t attack because they are not capable. They can be crushed while they were still trying to raise an army. We expect them to surrender soon after Niddler.”

  “So that leaves only the Rom Empire?” asked Allor.

  “My son was never slow to think,” replied Tal with a short smile.

  “I will consider it, but I’m not sure. She is lovely, and her skills would be appreciated. And the alliance with her brother would be beneficial. But what about her and I as a couple? She is the woman I would wake beside. The woman I would plant my seed in every day. Are we compatible? Will we get along?”

  “Sometimes you forget you are a god to these people,” said Tal with a forceful tone.

  “Sometimes you forget I am just a boy that found machines from the stars and use them to help people and trick them into thinking I am something that I am not.”

  “You have grieved for Rao long enough. You must cherish her memory, hold it deep in your heart. But you must continue your life. Now, at the edge of your greatest victory, you must be the man of your potential, not the man you think you are. Decision-making is cloudy when a man’s needs are not met.” Tal looked at him hard. She knew that he would agree with her wisdom.

  “But I’m not ready to take a wife,” Allor said.

  “Then how about the Women of Allor? Spread your seed among them,” Tal said.

  The Women of Allor were basically groupies. They had kept themselves in a romantic fervor for the handsome young god since his first appearance. When they heard that Allor was in the celibate grieving process for Rao, they too joined the process. There were hundreds of women now that had been celibate for over 150 revs, and each of them dreaming that Allor would end his grieving deep inside of them.

  “They are fanatics. They don’t honor me with their actions. They disgrace themselves with their dreaming. One of them came to me, pulled open her robe, and showed me her breasts at the last healing. The old man I was healing at the time should have been very glad I had finished fixing his heart right before she exposed herself to us.”

  “But they love you,” replied Tal.

  “No, they love God Emperor Allor. However, I am just a man.”

  “We will be stretched too thin, my son.”

  “It’s too early for this decision. We don’t know the reaction to the detonation and the destruction of the Ceros and Pyramos. We will discuss this again after the fall of Pyramos,” said Allor. Then he added, “Death to Ceros.”

  “Death to Ceros,” Tal repeated with a nod.

  Later that day, Allor was out alone healing. He wanted to be away from his family, away from the recruitment process for converts, away from the responsibility. In the crowd gathered around him, their infirmities begging for his mercy, in all of this Allor could retreat into himself and think. His work was similar to those that make large woven clothing from the smallest woolen threads, their hands moving to a particular clock while their minds are far away in memory or speculation. When he was a child, a juggler once told Allor that he too experienced the far-away mind while he moved balls in the air. And Allor had many balls to move.

  “Don’t let your kitten around the other cats near your farm,” said Allor as he handed the small gray and black striped cat back to a young girl. “He will want to fight, but he isn’t old enough yet. His eye is going to be fine.”

  The girl took the kitten in her hands and held it close to her chest.

  “Thank you,” she said. “I love you.” Then she stepped forward and kissed Allor on his cheek. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you forever and ever, amen,” said the girl.

  The girl’s mother put her hand on her child’s shoulder. “Let’s leave him to fix others,” she said, and tried to lead the girl away. But instead of leaving, the girl rushed forward and hugged Allor. Between their bodies was the small kitten that wasn’t happy being the meat of their sandwich.

  “Go now. Remember to help others like I help you.”

  “But I can’t heal cats,” replied the girl.

  “Then help others how you can. With food, with water, help them walk, help them clean their feet.”

  “I will,” said the girl with a resolute look on her face.

  A woman was brought to Allor, an old woman with two daughters at her side. From beneath her robe Allor could only see one foot. When they got to him, he nodded to them and pointed to a rock for the old woman to sit on while he examined her.

  Beneath the robe he found a much shorter right leg. It was shriveled and very small, less than the length from a shoulder to an elbow. But it had toes, and they were ticklish, as Allor discovered when he touched them.

  “You are the first man to be under my robe in over two kilorev,” said the woman with a hearty laugh. “Don’t fall in love with what you see,” she added with an even louder laugh and a snort.

  Allor and the two daughters watched in wonder as the small shrunken leg began to grow. At first it was the foot that got larger, then the rest. After about a tox, it was a fully formed and muscular leg. The woman immediately jumped to her feet and fell over onto the ground. Allor and the daughters moved quickly to help her up.

  “Stand back,” she said to them. “I’ve never walked a single step by myself without my sisters, my daughters, or my crutches. Today I won’t need anything anymore,” she said, and got up to her feet. Her first step was very tentative, her legs shaking. But after the first came a second more confident and then a third more confident still. Within twenty tix she had become used to it and celebrated with tears running down her cheeks.

  “Yo
u are truly the one true God,” she proclaimed loudly.

  “I’m not finished with you yet,” Allor said, motioning for her to come sit back on the rock.

  “But I am cured,” she said.

  “Of the big problem. Let’s cure the small ones now,” he said with a smile as he contemplated a life waking up beside Ova every morning as he waited for the woman to be seated again.

  Her pulmonary system needed his help, and he watched as the color of her arteries changed from red to green on his remedium. Then her scalp was cured of the infestation. Her broken toes were finally set back in place and connected again.

  It was during her examination that Allor dropped the remedium. When he picked it up, his fingers touched it in a new way, because a screen appeared on the device that he had never seen before. It presented him with a simple question to which he didn’t know the answer:

  Include Information Transfers? Yes No Cancel

  Allor chose Yes and pressed the screen.

  The old woman walked away under her own power. No daughters assisted her. No wooden crutches under her arm, no ill-fitting wooden leg rubbing her raw, nothing but her own two legs facilitating her travel. Before she walked away, she got down on her knees and bowed in front of Allor.

  “I will be yours until I die,” she said to him.

  “Help others,” he said to her as he pulled her back to her feet. As she came close to him, she looked at the handsome man, his long black hair, his deep black eyes. Then she kissed him gently on the lips. It was just for a tix. Then she turned and walked away quickly.

  “Today I kissed a god,” she said to her daughters as they walked away. Allor continued to heal others.

  A large man pushed his way through the crowd. He was much taller than other men, and Allor turned his PPS on low in case the man intended violence. The giant carried a woman over his shoulder. When he got to Allor, he threw the body at Allor’s feet. Dust puffed up from impact of the body and the ground.

  “We were eating and she told a joke that hurt me,” said the man in a curious childlike voice. His eyes and facial expression did not match those of a fearsome giant but rather a frightened child.

  “Jokes do not cause harm,” said Allor as he got on his hands and knees to examine the woman. It took only a tix before he was sure that she was beyond his help.

  “I gave her my knife in her belly to make her stop laughing at me,” the giant replied.

  Allor looked at the large red stain in the middle of the woman’s brown robe.

  “She is past my help, my friend,” Allor said.

  “You are not my friend. Heal my mother,” he demanded in a loud voice, the child now gone from him.

  “I cannot. She is dead.”

  “You are a bad god,” said the giant, and swung his fist at Allor. It impacted the PPS shield and bounced off it. The giant rubbed his sore hand.

  “I can only heal living things, before they are dead. Your mother is dead, and I cannot help her.”

  The giant swung his fist at Allor again, and again it hit the PPS shield and bounced off it. The giant collapsed to the ground. He began to cry.

  “But without mother I will starve,” he said. “Without mother I will die. Without mother, I want to die,” he said.

  Allor put his hand on the giant’s shoulder.

  “It doesn’t have to be that way. Let me heal you,” he said as he ran the remedium over the large man’s head. It was very red on the display and it took much longer than usual before it turned green. Upon completion, the giant stood up. People moved away from him.

  “I understand now many things I didn’t before. I was wrong to attack you, and I apologize. I will take my mother and bury her. But first I must go to the river and bathe and wash my clothes.”

  “Why do you clean first? Is it part of your death ritual?” asked Allor.

  “Germs,” said the giant.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  “It has come to my attention that a historian is being sent to Earth 7 to investigate the use of modern comms on a planet rated Primitive 3,” Professor Trill said as he adjusted his frame on his padded leather seat in his office. Two men stood at attention across the desk from him. Collins and Hope were the two highest-scoring agents in the entire class.

  Trill started a holocast, and a picture of Koven appeared. It was not his best picture, and he looked like he had been surprised when the picture had been taken.

  “This is Koven Modi. He is the agent you need to stop.”

  Collins nodded her agreement then Hope did the same.

  “You can see by his assessment scores that he is sub-median on battle skills. But don’t let that fool you. Look at his strategy scores. He consistently is at the top of his class. So before you conclude you are dealing with a weakling, know you are dealing with a weakling that is smarter than you. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Hope, followed less than a tix later by Collins.

  Trill poured himself a glass of Pluto water and took a sip. Collins and Hope could have been thirsty, but Trill didn’t care. He wanted them to know that he didn’t care.

  “Koven Modi is being sent to recover technology on the planet. You are being sent to ensure that he fails in his mission.”

  “What is his deadline?” asked Hope.

  “He has until the next regular departmental meeting to complete his recovery mission. If he fails, then we will be able to make the case that the historians are stretched too thin and should welcome our offer of assistance. If he fails and the council decide to reset planetary memory, I will be informed as soon as the decision is made and will escalate to Dean Midge that this is further evidence they need our help.”

  “Can’t they wipe the planet clean and sell it?” asked Hope.

  “Yes. But I will intervene with the dean before that happens. And if they succeed in wiping the planet, then I have a plan for that outcome too.”

  “What is it?” asked Collins.

  “I’ll share that with you later,” replied Trill with a smile. He took another sip of Pluto water to remind them of their place.

  “There is one important rule. Only one. And you must not break it,” Trill said slowly and deliberately.

  “Yes?” asked Hope.

  “Do NOT kill Koven Modi. Under no circumstances are you allowed to kill him. In fact, if he dies by your hand, I promise you this: you will die by mine. Is this perfectly clear to you?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Collins. “But what if he is trying to kill me?”

  “Use your PPS to prevent that. If your PPS is down, then the rule tells you the outcome: you die. Permission to kill Modi must come directly from me. Let me repeat, DIRECTLY FROM ME.”

  There was a brief moment of silence among the three of them.

  Trill didn’t need to explain to them the procedure when a historian dies.

  Historians are people obsessed by facts. Facts of events, facts of circumstances. They turn over every stone, look in every corner, go down into every cellar until they have a clear picture of the truth and can share that with others. So when one of them dies, it is a significant event. They unleash an investigation into the death that is far more thorough than any other. Professor Trill was certain that the death of Koven would expose his interference on Earth 7. It may also expose his interference on other planets. And he was scared of having his most vital secret exposed.

  Trill’s nightmare is to be put inside of one of the historian recertification rooms for questioning. It has happened before. Not to him, but there was a Math professor a few years ago that was accused of murder. It did not turn out well, and they found the professor hanging in his holding cell.

  “But don’t worry too much about your own skins. He’s weak but clever. But not that clever.”

  Collins looked at him with a puzzled expression.

  “I know both of his parents,” said Trill. “I wouldn’t consider either of them to be in the top
tier of academia. Second-rate minds at best. They would have to spend a fortune with a geneticist to get their son upgraded from their meager intellect.”

  Hope nodded his understanding. Collins nodded hers as well.

  “The technology is held by the Cult of Allor. I’ve shared the inventory of the technology and their locations with you in your briefing report. Read it several times before you arrive.”

  “Excuse me, sir,” said Collins. “How do you know what tech they have?”

  “Professor Collins,” Trill replied, “Earth 7 has been in play for a long time now. We’ve had a sociologist hidden on the planet for the last one hundred revs. He has prepared the list and also the list of tech they have learned to use.”

  “Thank you, sir,” replied Collins.

  A brief word should be said about how to kill someone wearing a PPS. It’s not easy. In fact, it is damned near impossible. It requires forcing someone into a corner or other type of space where they can be blocked from exiting. Think of it like a fat person pushing someone into a corner with their belly. It kind of works that way.

  Once the intended victim is captured and can’t escape, then the hard part of it all begins. The waiting. Sometimes it takes many days for the trapped to finally turn off their PPS in order to climb over the blocking PPS eggs of their captors. And when they do this, they can be shot with particle weapons. And they can shoot you too, if your PPS is turned off in order to shoot them. But most of the time this is not what happens.

  Most of the time it takes days before the trapped decide to make a climb for it. Most often their captors have been awake for days waiting for this moment. Exhausted and tired, they can wait no more and fall asleep. So in most instances, the captors wake up from a brief nap after several days of waiting, only to find their captive long gone.