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diff --git a/32719.txt b/32719.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..63b5c16 --- /dev/null +++ b/32719.txt @@ -0,0 +1,939 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. President, by Stephen Arr + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Mr. President + +Author: Stephen Arr + +Illustrator: Dick Francis + +Release Date: June 6, 2010 [EBook #32719] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. PRESIDENT *** + + + + +Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction November 1953. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + Mr. President + + + By STEPHEN ARR + + + Illustrated by DICK FRANCIS + + + He had been overwhelmingly elected. Messages of sympathy + poured in, but they couldn't help ... nothing could. + + * * * * * + + + + +George Wong stood pale and silent by the video screen, listening to +the election returns, a long-stemmed glass of champagne clutched +forgotten in his trembling right hand. + +The announcer droned on: "--latest returns from Venus, with half of +the election districts reporting, give three billion four hundred and +ninety-six million votes for Wong, against one billion, four hundred +million for Thompson, one billion one hundred million for Miccio, and +nine hundred million for Kau. These results, added to the almost +complete returns from Earth and the first fragmentary reports from +Mars, clearly indicate a landslide vote for Wong as the next President +of the Solar Union. The two billion votes from Ganymede and Callisto, +which will be received early tomorrow morning, cannot appreciably +affect the results. The battle for the twenty-five Vice-Presidents is +less clear. It is certain that Thompson, Miccio, Kau, Singh, and +DuLavier will all be among those elected, but in what order is not +yet...." + +Wong leaned over and snapped the video off. His shoulders sagged. He +leaned against the console as though too tired to move, a slight, +narrow-shouldered man with a very high forehead and thin receding +black hair. His large, sad, almond-shaped eyes and yellow-tinted skin +indicated that there was a good deal of Asiatic in the mixed blood +that flowed through his veins. + +"I'm sorry, truly sorry," Michael Thompson said sympathetically, +placing a friendly arm across the narrow shoulders of the successful +candidate. They were alone in the living room of the hotel suite in +New Geneva, which they had shared for the campaign. "The people chose +well. After the wonderful job you did in organizing the colonization +of Io and Europa, you were the logical man. And then you do have the +fantastic Responsibility Quotient of 9.6 out of 10. Anyway," he added +with a weary shrug, "don't feel too bad--it looks as though I'll be +First Vice-President." + +A brief ghost of a smile crossed George Wong's face. "We who are about +to die salute you," he said, lifting his glass in a bitter toast to +the blank video screen. + +Thompson, the man who was to be First Vice-President, silently joined +him. + +"At least," Wong sighed, putting his empty glass down on the video, "I +don't have a family. Look at poor Kau. At Miccio. With wives and +children, how they must have suffered when they learned they had been +drafted by the conventions.... Well, I guess there's nothing else to +do but to go to bed and wait until they come for me in the morning. +Good night, Michael." + +"Good night, George," Michael Thompson said. He turned toward his own +room. "I _am_ sorry," he said again. + + * * * * * + +Wong had already eaten breakfast and was dressed in an inconspicuous +tweed suit for the inauguration when the chimes sounded, telling him +that they were at the door. Slowly, he walked to the door and opened +it. + +"Good morning, Mr. President," the man outside said cheerily, flashing +his famous grin. George Wong immediately recognized Al Grimm, the man +who had been personal secretary to sixty-three Presidents. He was one +of the vast army of civil servants who kept the wheels of government +turning smoothly until Presidents were able to make the decisions +that would create policy. + +"Good morning, Al," George Wong said. "I am afraid I'll have to place +myself completely in your hands for these first few days. Do we go to +the Executive Mansion for the inauguration now?" + +"Yes, sir. Then, after your inauguration, to the office. Messages of +condolence have been pouring in all night, but I don't think you want +to bother with them. However, I am afraid we will have to bring up +some of the problems that have arisen in the two weeks since President +Reynolds left office." + +"How is he?" Wong asked. "I knew him, you know. He taught at Venus +University at the same time I did. He was a fine man." + +"I'm afraid he's no better," Al said, shaking his head. "We're doing +all we can for him, but he won't even speak to his wife. You know how +difficult it is." + +"Yes, I know," Wong said. + +They rode downstairs in silence and walked to the Presidential Copter +parked in the street in front of the house. A few guards loitered in +the vicinity, but there were no crowds. They entered the plush copter, +which rose smoothly under its whirling blades and carried them over +the city, landing finally on the lawn of the Executive Mansion. + +Chief Justice Herz met them, dressed in a blue business suit, and +after they shook hands he administered the oath. + +"Do you, George Wong," he asked, "swear to make every decision you are +asked to make as President of the Solar Union for the benefit of the +people of the Union and in accord with what you believe to be fair and +just, fully cognizant of the fact that the welfare of seventy-five +billion citizens of the Union is dependent on you?" + +"I do," George Wong said, through a painfully dry throat that would +barely permit the words to come out. + + * * * * * + +They all shook hands again. Then Al Grimm led the President across the +grassy lawn, into the mansion, and up to the office that had served +over a thousand Presidents. Wong entered it nervously. It was a large +plain room, severely decorated. Tentatively, he slid into the chair +behind the huge steel desk, and began opening the drawers. He found +them fully stocked with tapes, a recorder, all the other necessities. +The desk and everything else in the room was brand new. There was no +trace anywhere of his predecessors, and he was relieved to find it so. +The Psychology Department at work, he thought. + +"While we are moving your effects into the living quarters, Mr. +President," Al said from the doorway, "I wonder if we could start +discussing the problem of the Gnii ... their Ambassadors have +presented an ultimatum, and they demand an answer today." + + * * * * * + +So soon, President Wong thought. Couldn't he have just a few hours to +get used to his office, to wander through the building, to explore the +green garden that he could see from his barred window stretching out +behind the mansion? + +For a second, he almost rebelled; but even as he thought of answering +no, he realized that he never would. The Psych Agents had measured his +Responsibility Quotient at 9.6, and they didn't make mistakes. + +"Of course," he answered with forced enthusiasm. "Who do you suggest I +discuss the matter with? For that matter, who are the Gnii?" + +"I have the Manager of Defense, the Manager of Trade, and the Manager +of Foreign Affairs waiting in the anteroom. With your permission, I'll +call them in and they'll explain the problem. But first, if you would +sign this order ... it has already been approved by President Reynolds +and by all of the Managers concerned." + +President Wong took the paper. It was an order sending a space +platoon, 5,000 warships and 500,000 men, to the system of Altair A, to +place themselves under the command of the Grasvian fleet for an attack +against the system of Altair D. + +The President frowned. "What's the story behind this?" + +"As you know," Al explained patiently, "there is an unwritten +agreement throughout the Galaxy that if any system conquers too many +other systems, an intersystem police force is formed to cut the +conqueror down. Since for all practical purposes, there is an infinity +of systems in the Galaxy, and as each conqueror borders on more and +more of them as he grows larger in three-dimensional expansion, unlike +the one-dimensional conquests that used to occur on the surface of +planets, conquest of the Galaxy is an obvious impossibility. However, +the inhabitants of Altair D seem to have embarked on a policy of +reckless expansion that could reach us in time." + +"I see," President Wong said. "How far away are they?" + +"It will take the platoon sixteen years to get to the rendezvous. They +will remain for ten years, then return. Because of the distance, we +are not expected to send more than this token force." + + * * * * * + +President Wong looked at the order. It had already been signed by +President Reynolds, by the Managers of Defense and of Foreign Affairs. +After all, even though forty-two years was a long period of time to +chop out of a man's life, only 500,000 men were involved, and it was +the duty of every citizen to give his life for his planet if required. + +With an impatient motion, he rolled his thumbprint in the soft plastic +signature space, and held it for a second as it hardened. Then he +threw the order into a basket labeled OUTGOING CORRESPONDENCE. + +His first official duty completed, he should have felt exhilarated; +but instead, nagging thoughts of guilt tugged at his brain. + +Who were the inhabitants of Altair D, anyway? How did he know that the +police action was just? Shouldn't he get out the whole file and go +over it? + +But that would take days ... and there was the matter of the Gnii, +whoever they were. + +The three managers entered. President Wong stood up and shook hands +with them. They didn't waste time on other preliminaries, but rushed +straight into business. + +"The Gnii," the Manager of Trade, a large, red-faced man said, "demand +that we remove our trading planetoid from their system. They allege +that the planetoid is a security risk, in that it could be used for +remote-control bombing of any of their planets. They threaten that if +we don't remove it voluntarily, they will attack it, and their +Ambassadors are here in person to take our reply to their ultimatum." + +There was nothing unusual in that, President Wong knew. Since both +spaceships and any other known means of communication traveled at the +speed of light, it was now more common to send Ambassadors on +important missions than to send messages. + +"What do you think we should do?" President Wong asked the Manager of +Trade. + + * * * * * + +"I think we should tell them to go to hell," the Manager of Trade +replied, his heavy face turning redder. "After all, we have a million +trading planetoids out in the Galaxy--if we retreat here, we set a +dangerous precedent." + +"I see," Wong said, frowning. "I don't recall any alien trading +planetoids in _our_ system." + +"Of course not, Mr. President," said the Manager Of Foreign Affairs, a +tall, lean, distinguished-looking gentleman with blue eyes and +iron-gray hair. "We don't permit them, for much the same reason that +the Gnii want them removed from their system. Trading planetoids are +usually only tolerated in backward systems. Apparently the Gnii no +longer desire to be considered backward. I, for one, think that we +would be making a mistake not to accede to their request." + +"Oh, that's very fine, decent, sporting and all that," the Manager of +Trade said irritatedly. "But I have to worry about feeding this +overpopulated system of ours, which would starve if it weren't for +intersystem trade--a significant part of which is carried on through +the planetoids." + +"Can we protect the threatened planetoid?" President Wong asked the +Manager of Defense, a short, slim black man with flaming red hair. + +The Manager of Defense considered his reply carefully. "Not if they +are willing to pay a terrific price to destroy it," he said finally. +"After all, it's thirty-three years away. While we can send out a +fleet immediately that would get there at the same time as the +Ambassadors, and before they could mount an attack, we hardly could +send reinforcements and replacements once the battle is joined. But +from the best information available, I think that a small force of +twenty or twenty-five thousand troops should be able to frighten the +Gnii out of doing anything foolish. They aren't very far advanced." + +"Thirty-three years," President Wong said frowning. "That means a +mixed crew with facilities for children. I am told that things often +go wrong on that type of mission." + +The Manager of Defense nodded. "They do," he agreed shortly. "However, +I have analyzed that problem in detail in my report." + +President Wong sighed. "If you gentlemen will leave your reports with +me, I will make my decision by tomorrow morning." + +Each of the Managers gave him several rolls of tape. Those of the +Manager of Trade felt by far the heaviest. President Wong slipped them +into the racks in his upper left-hand desk drawer. + +"Ask the Gnii to come in," he said to Al. + + * * * * * + +Al pushed a button on the arm of his chair, and the door swung open. +Four large spidery creatures entered the room, followed by a small +bald man. Their round bodies were encased in plastic globes, in which +a whitish translucent gas swirled. They walked over to the President's +desk, and the leader extended a hairy leg. + +With an effort, President Wong forced himself to take the leg with his +hand and pump it up and down. He noticed that the creature withdrew +the leg as soon as it was decently possible, and smiled a bit as he +concluded that their aversion was mutual. + +The Gnii stepped back and began waving his two front legs. + +"He is asking for your reply to his ultimatum," the small bald man +interpreted. + +"Tell him I'll give him a definite decision tomorrow," President Wong +said. "Apologize for my not being able to reply today, and point out +that since it will take him thirty-three years to get home, one day +will not make much difference." + +[Illustration] + +The bald interpreter waved his hands. The four Gnii went into a small +huddle, waving their spidery legs at each other. Then the leader +turned to the interpreter again and "spoke." + +"They say that they agree," the interpreter said. "But they want to +emphasize that it is not because they fear the power of the Solar +System." + +The Gnii leader hesitated a moment, then extended his leg again. +President Wong pumped it once. The Gnii dropped his hand and turned +and left the room, with the three others and the interpreter filing +after him. + +"If you don't need me any more," the Manager of Trade said, glancing +at his watch, "I'll go back to the Trade Bureau. I have a meeting with +a number of the department heads." + +President Wong nodded tiredly. "I have the tapes. I'll study all your +positions tonight." + + * * * * * + +The Manager of Trade and the Manager of Foreign Affairs rose and left +the room. The Manager of Defense stayed in his seat. + +"If you feel up to it," Al said, "the Manager of Defense would +appreciate it if you would present a Presidential citation to the +remains of the Third Company. They were involved in a police action in +the system of Veganea, and their morale is shattered. As you know, the +award is traditional, as is the speech. Here's the text--all you need +do is read it." + +"All right," President Wong said, taking the paper from Al's hand and +scanning it. There was only one paragraph. + +The door opened and four old men entered, followed by an honor guard +of eight husky privates. They approached the desk and stood at +attention. President Wong looked up from the speech and felt a wave of +sudden nausea. For a second, he was afraid that he actually was going +to be sick. None of their old lined faces was complete. The worst +wounded had less than half a face, and that discolored by purple +blotches of radiation scar-tissue. He was blind, and the others +maneuvered him into position before the desk. + +"For the heroic parts which you played in the Police Action against +Veganea--" Wong stumbled over the name, then continued hastily--"I, +the President of the Solar Union, hereby...." + +"Rot," said the blind one, through toothless gums in a voice that was +only a hoarse whisper. "Tell me, do you know where Veganea is? Does +anyone on Earth know where Veganea is, or care? How many men, Mr. +President, how many men, young and healthy, left for that police +action? Do you know?" His hoarse voice rose. "Four came back ... but +can any of you gentlemen tell me _how many left_?" + +"That's enough," the Manager of Defense said. At his signal, two of +the honor guards gently took hold of the veteran's arms and walked him +out of the room along with the others. + +"I order that he not be punished," Wong said sharply. + +"He won't be," the Manager of Defense said. "Do you take me for a +barbarian? I had hoped, though, that your interest might change their +attitude. As you can imagine, it's raising hell with the morale of the +recruits." + +"By the way," the President asked, "where is Veganea, and how many men +_did_ we send there?" + +"It's about twenty-four years away, near Vega. The action started +before my time and I don't know how many men were involved--probably +not more than a few million. The Police Action ended successfully, but +our ships were in the first wave and were wiped out." + + * * * * * + +The President sat down wearily. His hand strayed over to the order he +had signed that morning for a police action, then drifted aimlessly +away. + +"What's next?" he asked Al. He slipped a few energy pills into his +mouth as Al consulted his book. + +"There's the matter of the conversion bomb," Al said. "The Manager of +Scientific Research and the Manager of Defense would like you to make +a decision about it." + +"The conversion bomb?" President Wong said, puzzled. "I've never heard +of it." + +"It is highest level top secret," the Manager of Defense explained. +"Instead of breaking down atoms and releasing some energy as in the +standard fission weapons, it converts matter entirely into energy. +Given the matter-energy equation, the energy released by a small +amount of matter is fantastic." + +Al had risen and gone to the door. He returned with an old, +gray-haired, stoop-shouldered man. The President recognized the famous +Manager of Research. + +The Manager launched immediately into his argument without +preliminaries. "Mr. President, while my department has finally found a +way to convert matter directly into energy, I believe that any use of +this process would be disastrous. First, there is absolutely no +safeguard that could prevent a matter-conversion powered machine, used +for peaceful purposes, from being changed into a lethal weapon by the +simplest of alterations. And as a weapon, the conversion bomb, unlike +atomic bombs, could not only destroy planets but stars with their +entire systems. We all know that the law of the Galaxy is to prevent +its domination by any one system--and given the distances and +populations involved, that domination is obviously impossible. But if +we began to construct conversion bombs, and if word of it got out, the +whole Galaxy would rise against us, all the way to the Edge." + +"But, Mr. President," the Manager of Defense said calmly. "We are not +a unique people. If we do not produce the conversion bomb, you may +rest assured that someone else will. Maybe even our friends, the Gnii. +No system has ever saved itself by refusing to manufacture the best +weapons available to it. As for the Galaxy rising against us--if we +have the conversion bomb, let them! We will be able to defend +ourselves against any or all of them and blast their suns into novae." + +"Until _they_ have the bomb," the Manager of Scientific Research +interrupted. "As you say, we are not a unique people." + +"Gentlemen," the President said, standing up suddenly. "I feel tired +and dizzy. The idea of a bomb that can wipe out systems is new to me. +If you will leave your tapes, I will study your arguments tonight, and +we can resume this discussion tomorrow." + + * * * * * + +The two Managers rose immediately, shook hands with the President, and +left. They did not speak to each other as they went through the door. + +"Mr. President," Al said, "it's seven o'clock. Will you join me for +dinner, sir?" + +President Wong slumped back into his seat and stared dully at Al, only +half noticing his friendly grin. "What would you do about the Gnii, +Al, if you were in my place?" he asked. + +"I'm sorry, sir," Al said, "but I really don't know. Better come along +for some dinner. You've had a hard day, and you have a harder one +ahead of you tomorrow. We saved a number of difficult problems that we +didn't want to throw at you on your first day in office." + +A ghost of a smile crept over the President's face, then disappeared +quickly. "It's all right, Al. Go ahead and eat. I think I'll just stay +here and go over these tapes." + +As Al left, President Wong saw the order for the police action on his +desk. He picked it up to call Al to take it with him, but his eyes +caught the words _500,000 men_ ... _sixteen years_, and a picture of +the terribly wounded veterans flashed before his eyes. Really, he +would have to go through the files and find out if the expedition was +necessary.... + +He opened the left-hand desk drawer and stared at the Gnii tapes, but +he didn't take any of them out. It seemed like too much of an effort. + +And then, the conversion bomb was so much more important. + +He closed the first drawer and opened the one with the conversion bomb +tapes. + +But the Gnii had to be answered tomorrow--the bomb could wait. He +slammed the drawer shut. + +"Gnii," he muttered to himself, and opened the other drawer. + +Then he noticed that he had put the police action order back into his +OUTGOING basket. He slammed the drawer with the Gnii tapes shut again +and opened the drawer below it and pushed the order inside, so that it +wouldn't be picked up by mistake before he could check on it. + +"Five hundred thousand men in here," he said as he closed the drawer. +"Going to--" + +Where were they supposed to go? He couldn't remember. He opened the +drawer again and looked at the order. To Altair D. The name had no +meaning for him. + +Now, let's see ... oh, yes, the conversion bomb tape. + +He opened the drawer to take out the tapes, and remembered that the +Gnii ultimatum had to be answered by tomorrow. + +"Gnii, Gnu, Gnuts," he said, opening a drawer. It was the wrong one, +and the tapes weren't there. Which tapes? + +The door opened, and President Wong looked up to see Al's smiling face +peering in. + +"I was passing by, sir," Al said, "and I wondered if I couldn't talk +you into supper--" + +"_Get out!_" the President shouted. + +The door closed softly. + +Now where was he?... Oh, yes, the conversion bomb. Conversion, +conversion, conversation, bomb, bomb, boom, _BOOM_. But that wasn't it +either--it was the Gnii, they had to be answered by tomorrow.... Gnii, +Gnii, Gnu, Gnuts, now in what drawer had he put the gnats? And why +order a police action against Gnats? Just convert every one of them +into spiders.... + + * * * * * + +Al walked slowly down the hall, his grin gone, his face looking washed +out. He turned into his own little office and snapped on the +communications video. + +"First Vice-President Michael Thompson," he said to the operator. + +In a moment Thompson appeared on the screen. + +"Mr. First Vice-President," Al said in a tired voice, "may I suggest +that you remain in the Capital for the next few weeks?" + +Even though he knew that it was not polite, Al snapped off the set +without waiting for a reply--but not before he caught the white and +frightened look on Thompson's face. + + --STEPHEN ARR + + * * * * * + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Mr. President, by Stephen Arr + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MR. 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