Pryce Institute-Cambridge

[Pryce]

"The Scientific Paper Pusher"

[color=#33CC00]The Pryce Institute, Cambridge Annex
Main Conference Room
City of Chesterton, Planet Cambridge.



Cook sat alone at the conference table, and frowned. Credits out, credits out. When are they going to start coming in? He looked around the empty room. It still smelled faintly of fresh paint.



So much spent in the last few months. A new building , with several labs still sitting unused. The Institute had made several small breakthroughs in the field of Metallurgy, which had gradually brought a swell in the Institutes accounts. But that income was gone now. This new ship. It's construction, and intended purpose had all been figured out in Wesleys' absence. Cook had intended it for a massive, but mobile research lab. Perhaps by meeting the right people, he could secure for the Institute one of the Bretonian governments' contract bids for weapons and technology research. He'd begun to realize the potential for great advances in science, for patriotic service to the crown; and of course the certainty of great profitability if handled correctly.



Then the two of them get back and more or less took over the vessels' future, apparently planning to turn it into a ship of exploration. A dangerous, and in his opinion, mostly redundant choice of purpose. As if there wasn't already enough of those out there. Every house, and bloody near every corporation of every house, it seemed, sending countless explorers, human and AI, deep into the black. For centuries. He imagined there were places in space further out than he could comprehend, that looked like the Pittsburgh field, from the wrecks of lost ships. He smiled grimly.



Of course, there was also the chance that one day humans would discover something they wouldn't survive. It might very well had happened with the Slomon K'Hara, whose very existence proof enough that there were other races out there. Mankind was fairly stubborn as far as survival went, but everything, all of it, could be wiped clean or taken from them if they met something disagreeable. A certain pattern fairly well established, at least in human history. Powerful race meets indigenous, less advanced race. Powerful race robs, enslaves, and exterminates the less advanced race. Well, humanity was indigenous to Sirius now. He hoped humanity would someday learn to stop killing each other; and start to prepare for what else might be out there. So much waste.



He doubted it could be helped. The human animal seemed locked in its ways. If only...


Bah.


It was time to move on. Getting stuck on events he couldn't change wasn't going to accomplish much. He wondered if profitability was beginning to become too important to him. He'd taken on this task of running the Institute, mostly as a favor for his old friend Wesley, indeed also curiosity of a new diversion, not really understanding the depth of what was required. He'd spent less and less time as a scientist, and more as an administrator, a bureaucrat, moving assets, sitting in his office, battling other bureaucrats, from other offices.It was wearing him down. He was missing his real work; the office of Director was changing him. The pressure of a dwindling credit account was pushing him to seek ways to obtain more credits. It was becoming the priority, the main objective, and that was not why he had become a scientist.

He wasn't sure if he would be able to handle Wesleys plan for the Institute.



"Professor?"



"Hmm?" Cook was jolted from his thoughts by the delicate voice beside him. He turned and saw a young woman looking at him somewhat quizzically. He wondered how long she had been standing there.



"The shipment from Ariel Enterprises has arrived. I thought you would want to know as soon as it did." The woman looked rather sharp in her suit, her hair pulled back in a severe bun. An all work, no play type, not unlike himself.


"Already?" he asked, surprised.


"Yes Professor, it's been moved to the shipping receiving warehouse."

"Right then. Could you do me a favor Brenda, and contact downstairs? See if Captain Wades' ship has made it in yet. Let me know once you have found out; And call Angelika up to my office as well."


"Of course Professor." She said, nodding slightly. She turned and walked out of the conference room.

That was fast He thought. He'd have to send a thank you to the company for their quick order.

Cook wandered back to the office. His prison. A side effect of the Cambridge Facility being short staffed, was that several floors still had unused sections, and the top floor, with his office, had the most empty rooms, leaving him alone on the floor often for hours at a time. It was rather eerie.

He returned the message to his colleague, confirming lunch for the following day.

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