Watching and waiting, visitors from the Moon orbit the planet. Their mission: Conquer Earth. Of course, that’s the easy part…
Kern had no sympathy for Earthlings. If he did, it would have been vanquished for good. Watching the screen, he and Captain Rollhagen saw Panama Beach overrun with partiers. Students walked dazed on South Padre island. Armored vehicles patrolled Miami.
A woman flung off her top in New Orleans. Both men turned away.
“Well, Kern?” the captain switched the feed. A Baja beach appeared, with a thousand revelers chugging from beer cans. Some while lying prone.
“I think the entire crew should watch. Except that last part, of course.”
“Agreed. A more unhealthy display cannot be imagined. Don’t any of these people have parents?”
“The parents did the same thing, in their day.” Lt. Kern checked his fingernails with always-alert eyes. His silver uniform was tight-fitting and immaculate, his black hair combed perfectly. Examining others with disdain, he enjoyed correcting mistakes, while claiming to have never made one himself. Women hated him on sight. “From what I’ve heard,” he continued. “There are more than a few parents there.”
“Drinking,” Rollhagen said. “Carousing. Casual associations of the most flagrant kind. What sort of vacation is that?”
“Vacation?”
“I’m sorry. I meant field trip.”
Malthusians took time off. But not vacations. They called these field trips. Zipping around the solar system, they visited Neptune to study gravitation, landed on the moons of Jupiter for geological surveys. They got things done, all while attending lectures on healthful eating and yoga. It made sense. You don’t conquer the cosmos dancing to Nef the Pharaoh.
The screen brought a close-up of two revelers body grinding. The girl turned and kissed the boy. Although fascinated, Captain Rollhagen pretended to be bored. He had a square jaw and steely eye. The man had guided his ship through artesian ice storms, avoiding sure death. Yet had never freak danced with anyone. Or kissed a girl, for that matter.
“Well, it will all be over soon,” said Kern.
“Yes.” The captain turned off the screen. “They’ll be doing the Humpty Hump in the salt mines of Mars.”
“Not that. I meant this is the last weekend of Spring Break.”
“You mean, this is it?”
“For the year.”
Rollhagen sat thinking. “When’s the last time you were on a field trip, Kern?”
“Never.”
“What do you say we take a quick one, just the two of us. To Cancun.”
The lieutenant’s eyes lit with mischief. “Cancun?”
“Yes. For research, of course.”
“Of course.”
“Pack your duffle. And don’t forget a swimsuit. And sunscreen.”
“Roger.”
Both men jumped up and trotted for the door. The captain’s step was lighter than it had been in years. Possibly his whole life. He hoped his eagle-eyed subordinate didn’t notice.
He needn’t have worried. Kern had his own thoughts, and already saw himself walking the beach in a Speedo. Ten thousand women and one Malthusian? He liked his chances.
Richard Donnelly lives in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Classic flyover land. Which makes us feel just a little… superior. He publishes a weekly column of essays on the writing life at richarddonnelly.substack.com