Mars

EARTH

WASHINGTON: The Vice-President’s smile disappeared the instant the last of the camera crew left.

It was unusual for the media corps to swarm into the Vice-President’s office, but this had been a very unusual day. A news conference from Mars. And that damned Indian had weaseled out of his end of the bargain.

She glared at the two aides who remained in the room. Her media secretary was at the little cabinet that served as a bar. Harvey Todd, her aide for science and technology, was fidgeting nervously as he slowly paced in front of the curtained windows. He’s got a lot to be nervous about, the Vice-President said to herself. She got up from the small sofa where she had dealt with the reporters and stalked to her desk. It was a tiny, delicately curved desk of gleaming dark rosewood, beautifully proportioned to the Vice-President’s own slight frame.

Her media secretary handed her a frosted glass of vodka citron as the Vice-President sat herself in the maroon swivel chair behind the desk.

The Vice-President took one small sip of her ice-cold drink, then said to Todd, “Well?”

He looked startled. He was the small, nervous type, his hair thinning despite the fact that he was barely into his thirties. He looked soft, but inwardly he was sharp as a razor; he carried degrees from Princeton in political science and management. His favorite author was Niccolo Machiavelli.

He swallowed hard and tried to smile. “I thought the conference went very well, didn’t you?” he asked the media secretary, a note of desperation in his voice.

She nodded but did not smile.

“That goddammed Indian never said a word about backing me,” the Vice-President snarled. “I went out on the limb for him and he just talked about frigging Martians!”

“Well, he is a scientist…”

“Bullshit!”

The media secretary sat herself on the sofa that her boss had just vacated and crossed her legs primly. “We have his written statement,” she said. “You can release it whenever you choose to.”

“He should have said he was going to support me,” the Vice-President insisted.

“I’m not sure that this particular hookup was the right time to make such an announcement,” Todd said timidly, rubbing a forefinger across his round chin.

“What the hell did they teach you at Princeton?” the Vice-President fairly screamed. “What would be a better time, with the whole frigging world watching on TV? An endorsement from Mars, for god’s sake! What could make a bigger impression on the voters, you jelly-brained imbecile?”

The media secretary headed for the bar. Todd tried to return his boss’s angry stare but failed; he turned away and focused instead on the painting he had arranged to have hanging in the office: an original Bonestell starscape.

“I can think of a better time for him to announce his support,” said the media secretary as she poured straight bourbon into a tumbler full of ice cubes.

“You can?”

“When they land back on Earth. Everybody will be watching that. And you won’t have to compete with Martians for the media’s attention, either.”

The Vice-President’s angry expression softened into a thoughtful scowl. She sipped at her drink. Todd cast an utterly grateful look at the media secretary. She smiled at him and mouthed silently, You owe me one.