Chapter 5 Ė When Presidents Beg (page 3 of 10)
He asked the question, but he already knew. The President's impending arrival was one thing, but why did she have to come too?
Charlize had been the director of New Terran Space Exploratoria for almost ten years and she'd run it like none before her. She was tall and olive, but as gorgeous as she was effective. No one could run a space program like her or any other program from that matter. She was like a female version of Joanna Valentine with just as much power, an extra foot of ladylike legs and calves demure enough to melt steel, rather than crush it like Valentine.
No sooner had I finished my thought than her ship touched down with the standard governmental disregard for permit or permission. It was merely seconds later the Presidentís Interprotospaceforce-One tried to land as well, but bumped upon the roof of her custom, pink, sensual craft.
"Why her?" I asked of no one in particular, but as I still stood before the desk clerk, receiver still in my hand he felt inclined to answer, "Because she's Charlize, Mr. Jansen, sir."
I gave him a sideways and disapproving glance, but he was merely human and didn't understand. "She's the director of ESA, Tek. If anyone would have to talk with you, it would be her."
"I already know all that, thank you," I said to the thick-headed baldyman of the lodge's front desk. As was common with simpler races, he failed to understand my distaste for him and promptly threw a ream of photos before me to autograph as a supplement to his exceptionally low but perfectly fair, justifiable and market-demandedly poor income.
Charlize was already stepping down from her craft so I only signed about a dozen of them. My mood overtook me as I inscribed them each "thanks for nothing, jerkwad - Tek". His joy seemed unprecedented.
Melo grabbed me by the arm, bruising me from shoulder to elbow, "It's Charlize, Tek. What's she doing here."
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