desperate measures
Richardson looked smug. Melf always hated that.
It reminded him of what he was, a puppet master. Since Richard Nixon, no Republican President of the United States had ever been more than a telegenic figurehead.
In GOP circles, it was called the Haldeman Legacy. Make sure no Republican Presidential candidate was more competent than his advisors.
Melf adjusted himself in his seat, capping off that procedure with his closed-lips half-smile.
Richardson watched with amusement, waited for the smile, and then spoke.
"A great day for humanity, Egon."
Melf quietly concurred. "Indeed, Mr. President. Our people did excellent work."
"What is the information coming back from the probes telling us?"
Melf was up to speed.
"We've lucked out. Basically we've discovered another Earth. A breathable atmosphere, water, a climate slightly cooler, 98% of Earth's gravity."
Richardson grinned sardonically. "Easiest five pounds I'll ever lose."
Melf forced the corners of his own mouth up. "Not the worst that could happen to me, either."
Richardson leaned forward about an inch. "Will we make PlanetFall safely?"
Melf visibly squirmed. "We believe there is a green land mass in the temperate zone. If true, then yes."
Richardson knew well that Melf thought he pulled all the strings. "Our other markets survived the Boyette purge?" Richardson had majored in economics.
Melf knew where this was heading. "Our alternative market still exists, and the Gvot, Hambian & Melean markets are thriving."
Richardson served up one of his empty grins. "So my five US dollars still buys me a cheap cigar?"
Melf wanted to encourage the levity. He forced his smile wider. "I think so, Mr. President. We just need to find suitable landfalls for the minority economies to produce goods. It will be ugly for a while, but I think we've managed to export our economy to our advantage."
Richardson's smile vanished. "That's encouraging, Egon. I'd hate to make landfall to discover the US economy was not number one."
Melf was ready for that. "If we maintain continuity through Landfall, the relocation of the Melean, Gvot & Hambian populations will be seen as a gesture of liberation & a promotion of free trade among nations."
Richardson glanced at a huge picture on his wall, an astronaut rampant, a foot ready to land on the moon. "I was thinking about "Columbia"."
Melf nodded. "I agree, Mr. President. "Challenger" was too loaded with the concept of failure."
Richardson smirked. "People forget quickly enough. After all, it was a great challenge we faced getting here."
Melf gave an inch & took a mile back. "Yes, but the average age of our wealthy patrons means that they do, in fact, remember the Challenger incident."
The smirk was gone again. "So. Columbia, Melea, Hambia & Gvotia. Our new world."
Melf's face was tabula rasa. "Indeed."
Richardson leaned forward again. "Which leaves us with one big problem."
Melf had been waiting for this all meeting long. "Yes, Mr. President, that it does."
Richardson nodded as if some great point had been made. "And that problem will disappear into whatever God-forsaken rock we dump the Gvot on to build their wretched boats."
Melf managed a genuine smile. "We need their boats to facilitate trade."
Richardson dismissed the attempt at pleasantry. "We'll need to hunt him down, Egon."
Melf had been sitting on his ace. "Not if we manage to get to him before PlanetFall."
Richardson had a pair of his own. "I understand the problem is not quite so simple as rousting him from his bunk."
Melf instantly felt his repressed temper boil. "Sir?"
Richardson held him in an icy stare. "Am I to understand you don't know he's missing, Mr. Secretary?"
Melf couldn't avoid squinting as he puzzled over how Richardson knew. "I am aware of that, yes, Mr. President."
Richardson slid open his desk drawer and pulled out one of his cigars. "Do you require suggestions or assistance from me?"
Melf thought for an instant of the long hours of dedication it had taken to get Richardson elected. "No, Mr. President, the matter is in hand."
Richardson rose, clipped the end from his cigar into the wastebasket. "Good."
Melf hated cigar smoke. He rose as well. "I will let you know when we have achieved our goal."
Richardson lit the cigar with a match. "I hope you've not assigned this to that idiot Boyette."
Melf was fleeing the smoke towards the door. He stopped, turned and laughed. "No sir, most definitely not."
He resumed his flight to safety, closing the door to the makeshift Presidential Suite behind him.
Richardson coughed a little as he laughed. "Lying bastard."
It reminded him of what he was, a puppet master. Since Richard Nixon, no Republican President of the United States had ever been more than a telegenic figurehead.
In GOP circles, it was called the Haldeman Legacy. Make sure no Republican Presidential candidate was more competent than his advisors.
Melf adjusted himself in his seat, capping off that procedure with his closed-lips half-smile.
Richardson watched with amusement, waited for the smile, and then spoke.
"A great day for humanity, Egon."
Melf quietly concurred. "Indeed, Mr. President. Our people did excellent work."
"What is the information coming back from the probes telling us?"
Melf was up to speed.
"We've lucked out. Basically we've discovered another Earth. A breathable atmosphere, water, a climate slightly cooler, 98% of Earth's gravity."
Richardson grinned sardonically. "Easiest five pounds I'll ever lose."
Melf forced the corners of his own mouth up. "Not the worst that could happen to me, either."
Richardson leaned forward about an inch. "Will we make PlanetFall safely?"
Melf visibly squirmed. "We believe there is a green land mass in the temperate zone. If true, then yes."
Richardson knew well that Melf thought he pulled all the strings. "Our other markets survived the Boyette purge?" Richardson had majored in economics.
Melf knew where this was heading. "Our alternative market still exists, and the Gvot, Hambian & Melean markets are thriving."
Richardson served up one of his empty grins. "So my five US dollars still buys me a cheap cigar?"
Melf wanted to encourage the levity. He forced his smile wider. "I think so, Mr. President. We just need to find suitable landfalls for the minority economies to produce goods. It will be ugly for a while, but I think we've managed to export our economy to our advantage."
Richardson's smile vanished. "That's encouraging, Egon. I'd hate to make landfall to discover the US economy was not number one."
Melf was ready for that. "If we maintain continuity through Landfall, the relocation of the Melean, Gvot & Hambian populations will be seen as a gesture of liberation & a promotion of free trade among nations."
Richardson glanced at a huge picture on his wall, an astronaut rampant, a foot ready to land on the moon. "I was thinking about "Columbia"."
Melf nodded. "I agree, Mr. President. "Challenger" was too loaded with the concept of failure."
Richardson smirked. "People forget quickly enough. After all, it was a great challenge we faced getting here."
Melf gave an inch & took a mile back. "Yes, but the average age of our wealthy patrons means that they do, in fact, remember the Challenger incident."
The smirk was gone again. "So. Columbia, Melea, Hambia & Gvotia. Our new world."
Melf's face was tabula rasa. "Indeed."
Richardson leaned forward again. "Which leaves us with one big problem."
Melf had been waiting for this all meeting long. "Yes, Mr. President, that it does."
Richardson nodded as if some great point had been made. "And that problem will disappear into whatever God-forsaken rock we dump the Gvot on to build their wretched boats."
Melf managed a genuine smile. "We need their boats to facilitate trade."
Richardson dismissed the attempt at pleasantry. "We'll need to hunt him down, Egon."
Melf had been sitting on his ace. "Not if we manage to get to him before PlanetFall."
Richardson had a pair of his own. "I understand the problem is not quite so simple as rousting him from his bunk."
Melf instantly felt his repressed temper boil. "Sir?"
Richardson held him in an icy stare. "Am I to understand you don't know he's missing, Mr. Secretary?"
Melf couldn't avoid squinting as he puzzled over how Richardson knew. "I am aware of that, yes, Mr. President."
Richardson slid open his desk drawer and pulled out one of his cigars. "Do you require suggestions or assistance from me?"
Melf thought for an instant of the long hours of dedication it had taken to get Richardson elected. "No, Mr. President, the matter is in hand."
Richardson rose, clipped the end from his cigar into the wastebasket. "Good."
Melf hated cigar smoke. He rose as well. "I will let you know when we have achieved our goal."
Richardson lit the cigar with a match. "I hope you've not assigned this to that idiot Boyette."
Melf was fleeing the smoke towards the door. He stopped, turned and laughed. "No sir, most definitely not."
He resumed his flight to safety, closing the door to the makeshift Presidential Suite behind him.
Richardson coughed a little as he laughed. "Lying bastard."