Watching and waiting, visitors from the Moon orbit the planet. Their mission: Conquer Earth. Of course, that’s the easy part…
Like most problems, conquering Earth was a math problem. It would take a certain amount of days to round up the population. Then a certain amount of Space Zeppelins to cart them to Mars. Then a certain amount of cash to bribe their leaders.
Bribe their leaders?
Of course. Money talks, even during an apocalypse.
“How much money do you have, Kern?” Captain Darryl Rollhagen sat at the head of a long table.
Kern reached in the pocket of his silver jumpsuit. “Ten or twelve bucks.”
“How about you, Ensign?” He turned to Megan Bremer.
“Even less.”
“Hmm.” Rollhagen drummed fingers. “How much free cash do we have in storage, Barb?”
Lt. Barbara Holt opened a folder. She frowned. “You won’t like it, Captain.”
“Just tell me.”
“A few hundred million.”
“You’re right. Not nearly enough.” He turned to his lieutenant commander. “Mr. Kern, you’ll have to get down to Earth and get us some more.”
“How much is some more? And why me?” Kern didn’t like Earthlings. It might be said he didn’t like anyone. But especially Earthlings.
“Not too much. Ten or twenty billion ought to do it. For now.”
Cmdr. Kern knew why it fell on him. He’d done this before. Posing as an investment banker, he opened an office on Wall Street and using a sophisticated algorithm, accumulated three billion dollars over the span of a couple weeks. After loading crates with hundred dollar bills, he jetted back to Spaceship One. He hadn’t paid taxes. His sole pleasure in the whole affair, he assumed they were still looking for him.
“Why don’t we burrow into Fort Knox?” Kern said. “I could do that in a day.”
“You’re talking outright theft, Mr. Kern. I can’t approve of that.”
Theft? How did he think the wealthy got their money? There wasn’t an honest game left on Earth, and Kern knew it.
“Just get down there and take care of things, same as before. And no goofing off. We need you aboard Spaceship One.” The captain imagined, as with any business trip, there was plenty of goofing off.
“Consider it done,” said Kenneth Kern, smiling inwardly.
He’d get the money. But he would do it his way. Going to the top of the feeding chain, it wouldn’t exactly be a visit from the goon squad. How they took it was up to them.
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