Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the OnlineDistributed 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 tothe election returns, a long-stemmed glass of champagne clutchedforgotten in his trembling right hand.
The announcer droned on: "--latest returns from Venus, with half ofthe election districts reporting, give three billion four hundred andninety-six million votes for Wong, against one billion, four hundredmillion for Thompson, one billion one hundred million for Miccio, andnine hundred million for Kau. These results, added to the almostcomplete returns from Earth and the first fragmentary reports fromMars, clearly indicate a landslide vote for Wong as the next Presidentof the Solar Union. The two billion votes from Ganymede and Callisto,which will be received early tomorrow morning, cannot appreciablyaffect the results. The battle for the twenty-five Vice-Presidents isless clear. It is certain that Thompson, Miccio, Kau, Singh, andDuLavier will all be among those elected, but in what order is notyet...."
Wong leaned over and snapped the video off. His shoulders sagged. Heleaned against the console as though too tired to move, a slight,narrow-shouldered man with a very high forehead and thin recedingblack hair. His large, sad, almond-shaped eyes and yellow-tinted skinindicated that there was a good deal of Asiatic in the mixed bloodthat flowed through his veins.
"I'm sorry, truly sorry," Michael Thompson said sympathetically,placing a friendly arm across the narrow shoulders of the successfulcandidate. They were alone in the living room of the hotel suite inNew Geneva, which they had shared for the campaign. "The people chosewell. After the wonderful job you did in organizing the colonizationof Io and Europa, you were the logical man. And then you do have thefantastic Responsibility Quotient of 9.6 out of 10. Anyway," he addedwith a weary shrug, "don't feel too bad--it looks as though I'll beFirst Vice-President."
A brief ghost of a smile crossed George Wong's face. "We who are aboutto die salute you," he said, lifting his glass in a bitter toast tothe blank video screen.
Thompson, the man who was to be First Vice-President, silently joinedhim.
"At least," Wong sighed, putting his empty glass down on the video, "Idon't have a family. Look at poor Kau. At Miccio. With wives andchildren, how they must have suffered when they learned they had beendrafted by the conventions.... Well, I guess there's nothing else todo 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 ownroom. "I _am_ sorry," he said again.
* * * * *
Wong had already eaten breakfast and was dressed in an inconspicuoustweed suit for the inauguration when the chimes sounded, telling himthat they were at the door. Slowly, he walked to the door and openedit.
"Good morning, Mr. President," the man outside said cheerily, flashinghis famous grin. George Wong immediately recognized Al Grimm, the manwho had been personal secretary to sixty-three Presidents. He was oneof the vast army of civil servants who kept the wheels of governmentturning smoothly until Presidents were able to make the decisionsthat would create policy.
"Good morning, Al," George Wong said. "I am afraid I'll have to placemyself completely in your hands for these first few days. Do we go tothe Executive Mansion for the inauguration now?"
"Yes, sir. Then, after your inauguration, to the office. Messages ofcondolence have been pouring in all night, but I don't think you wantto bother with them. However, I am afraid we will have to bring upsome of the problems that have arisen in the two weeks since PresidentReynolds left office."
"How is he?" Wong asked. "I knew him, you know. He taught at VenusUniversity 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 doingall we can for him, but he won't even speak to his wife. You know howdifficult it is."
"Yes, I know," Wong said.
They rode downstairs in silence and walked to the Presidential Copterparked in the street in front of the house. A few guards loitered inthe vicinity, but there were no crowds. They entered the plush copter,which rose smoothly under its whirling blades and carried them overthe city, landing finally on the lawn of the Executive Mansion.
Chief Justice Herz met them, dressed in a blue business suit, andafter they shook hands he administered the oath.
"Do you, George Wong," he asked, "swear to make every decision you areasked to make as President of the Solar Union for the benefit of thepeople of the Union and in accord with what you believe to be fair andjust, fully cognizant of the fact that the welfare of seventy-fivebillion citizens of the Union is dependent on you?"
"I do," George Wong said, through a painfully dry throat that wouldbarely permit the words to come out.
* * * * *
They all shook hands again. Then Al Grimm led the President across thegrassy lawn, into the mansion, and up to the office that had servedover a thousand Presidents. Wong entered it nervously. It was a largeplain room, severely decorated. Tentatively, he slid into the chairbehind the huge steel desk, and began opening the drawers. He foundthem fully stocked with tapes, a recorder, all the other necessities.The desk and everything else in the room was brand new. There was notrace 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 startdiscussing the problem of the Gnii ... their Ambassadors havepresented an ultimatum, and they demand an answer today."
* * * * *
So soon, President Wong thought. Couldn't he have just a few hours toget used to his office, to wander through the building, to explore thegreen garden that he could see from his barred window stretching outbehind the mansion?
For a second, he almost rebelled; but even as he thought of answeringno, he realized that he never would. The Psych Agents had measured hisResponsibility Quotient at 9.6, and they didn't make mistakes.
"Of course," he answered with forced enthusiasm. "Who do you suggest Idiscuss the matter with? For that matter, who are the Gnii?"
"I have the Manager of Defense, the Manager of Trade, and the Managerof Foreign Affairs waiting in the anteroom. With your permission, I'llcall them in and they'll explain the problem. But first, if you wouldsign this order ... it has already been approved by President Reynoldsand by all of the Managers concerned."
President Wong took the paper. It was an order sending a spaceplatoon, 5,000 warships and 500,000 men, to the system of Altair A, toplace themselves under the command of the Grasvian fleet for an attackagainst the system of Altair D.
The President frowned. "What's the story behind this?"
"As you know," Al explained patiently, "there is an unwrittenagreement throughout the Galaxy that if any system conquers too manyother systems, an intersystem police force is formed to cut theconqueror down. Since for all practical purposes, there is an infinityof systems in the Galaxy, and as each conqueror borders on more andmore of them as he grows larger in three-dimensional expansio
n, unlikethe one-dimensional conquests that used to occur on the surface ofplanets, conquest of the Galaxy is an obvious impossibility. However,the inhabitants of Altair D seem to have embarked on a policy ofreckless 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. Theywill remain for ten years, then return. Because of the distance, weare not expected to send more than this token force."
* * * * *
President Wong looked at the order. It had already been signed byPresident Reynolds, by the Managers of Defense and of Foreign Affairs.After all, even though forty-two years was a long period of time tochop out of a man's life, only 500,000 men