A year later, General Merle S. Shaeffer's card popped out of the computer.
"General Shaeffer's up for re-assignment."
"Who in hell is General Shaeffer?"
"Never heard of him."
The card passed upward.
"Merle Shaeffer is due for re-assignment," a man who knew the name told the Secretary of the Over Council at lunch the following day. "There's a new planet opened up even further away than Folger's Hill."
"He's the one who butchered the Itra assignment? Send him there. Anything new from Itra recently, by the way?"
"Same as usual. I understand the anarchists have formed some kind of government."
"Terrible. Terrible. Well, the less said about that the better."
A week later, again over lunch, the Secretary was told: