Watching and waiting, visitors from the Moon orbit the planet. Their mission: Conquer Earth. Of course, that’s the easy part…
A crack sounded in Spaceship One’s golf simulator. As Captain Rollhagen watched, the animated ball vanished over the horizon. A replica of Lunar National, the fairway was three miles long.
“Good shot, Captain!” Lt. Jason Schwartz said.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.” Being the captain, Rollhagen was used to compliments. However, it was a good shot.
He stood back to allow the younger man to tee up. His ball pushed right before hooking left, into a crater. Lt. Schwartz long ago gave up hitting straight, and compensated by aiming right with every drive. It seldom worked.
They bagged clubs as the simulator rolled ahead. On the Moon they would have taken an anti-gravity cart. Lt. Schwartz pulled out his sand wedge. “Who do you think will win this year’s British Open?” Rollhagen asked. Both men avidly followed PGA events. Especially The Open. Played on treeless, sandy courses, these most closely resembled the Moon’s.
“Who knows?” said the lieutenant. He was concentrating on his shot.
“After the invasion, we’ll move the whole thing to Grande Helios.” Rollhagen referred to one of their tougher courses, eighteen holes spread over forty miles. “See how those boys do then.”
Lt. Schwartz reminded him Phil Mickelson, Brooks Koepke, et al would be swinging a pick on Mars. As opposed to a golf club.
The captain frowned. “You’re right.”
Schwartz dug his club deep into imaginary sand. The ball hit the crater rim and rolled back to his feet.
“Tough luck, young man,” said the captain. These lunar hazards were murder on the average player. But not him. Like a lot of scratch golfers, he often saw himself competing, and quite successfully, with the best. Especially on one’s home course.
But how?
As his subordinate swung again and again, he pondered this. Earthlings would soon be dragged howling to the mines of Mars. But as a Space Corps captain, he might just be able to arrange a special trip to the Moon for a few. A select few.
Defeating the combined military forces of an entire planet was one thing. But out-putting Tiger Woods on a playoff hole? Now that would be memorable.
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