"We Wish To Help" (closed to current writers)

[AmyRoberts]

We are going to complete this in PM. Sorry, but there is nothing more to read here.

 

[HornyDog2017]

We have taken this to PM.

 

[AmyRoberts]

Deleted.

 

[HornyDog2017]

Peter Wilson
President of the United States
Former Astronaut
Survivor, ISS2 accident
42 years old

Peter stood at the windows behind his desk, looking out upon the South Lawn as a gaggle of men argued behind him. He'd initially been part of the conversation, of course; he was the President, and this was his office. But he'd tired of the back and forth of it all and had simply gone quiet, then turned away to take his station at the floor to ceiling window.

His disappearance hadn't gone unnoticed by his Chief of Staff, Richard Ehrling. But the former Senator knew that his boss sometimes liked to just listen in from afar sometimes, so he just let the fighting continue. But when one of the Cabinet Secretaries turned the conversation personal with a comment about another Secretary's commitment to the country, he chastised the political appointee.

One voice silenced led to another, then a couple of more, then a few, and finally the rest as each of those in attendance realized that they had lost their leader.

Peter finally realized that the room had gone silent and turned. All faces were on him. He smiled and came out from behind the Resolute Desk. His Chief of Staff prodded respectfully, "Mister President … your thoughts?"

Peter contemplated his answer for the umpteenth time since being invited up to the space ship. He hadn't committed to one answer or the other yet, but it was now or never. If he was going to go, he had to be on Air Force One in under 6 hours to make it to the Grand Bahama International Airport before the Bahamian Governor closed the airspace, even to the President of the United States of America.

"Sir, if I may," the Secretary of State spoke up. "I've said this before … and 72% of the American public agrees with me … the President should not be--"

"I wasn't invited as the President of the United States," Peter cut in. "I was invited as a survivor of Expedition 22."

He went quiet for a moment, remembering the souls lost that day when ISS2 broke up and ultimately plummeted into the atmosphere. After a moment, Peter walked around to the far side of his desk and opened a leather bound folder. In it was his resignation from office. It was addressed to the attention of the Secretary of State; it was simple and to the point:

Dear Mister Secretary,

I hereby resign the Office of the President
of the United States of America.

Sincerely,​

All that was required from Peter was to sign it.

"Is that really necessary?" one of the other Secretaries asked.

Suddenly, the room was once again alive with discussion, until finally the Secretary of the Interior let out a shrill, eardrum breaking whistle. Peter smiled and laughed. "Reminds me of my father breaking me and my sisters up when we argued about what to watch on TV."

He looked to the man who'd been responsible for him getting elected and asked simply, "Mister Secretary … your thoughts?"

"You know my thoughts, Mister President," Richard said. "Put your pen down, close that fucking folder, tell these yahoos to get back to the Nation's business so that you can--"

Some of those who felt slighted began to react, but the Secretary cut them off with a loud, "Shut it!"

"It's been 12 years," the Secretary continued. "If the aliens had intended to kill the President of the United States, they would have done it by now."

"We're not concerned with an assassination," one of the Joints Chiefs officer cut in. "We're worried about--"

"Kidnapping and brainwashing...?" Peter cut in. He shook his head. "You've been watching too much Hollywood sci-fi, General."

Some more conversation ensued, this time more peacefully, before Peter finally dismissed them all. When only his Chief of Staff, Secretary of State, Chief of the JCS, and his Secret Service detail Chief remained, he told them firmly, "I'll make the announcement from Air Force One. Is--"

"Marine One can be airborne in 6 minutes, Mister President," the Secret Service rep' said, anticipating.

Peter looked around the room to see both agreeable and disagreeable faces, then looked to his desk. He signed the document which started to get a response from his Chief of Staff but didn't. Peter closed the folder and left it there, saying, "Don't use it unless I come back with some sort of lizard worm in my brain."

 

[AmyRoberts]

Deleted.

 

[HornyDog2017]

President Peter Wilson

"President Wilson?"

Peter Wilson turned away from the terminal's floor to ceiling windows to find a teenage girl smiling to him nervously. He was almost expecting her to ask for his autograph. It wasn't something he did often; it wasn't like he was a rock star passing through the airport on the way to begin his next world tour or anything. Even when he was visiting a school or VA hospital or homeless shelter, people didn't come up to him with pen and paper looking for his signature. That was probably because he was always surrounded by men in sunglasses with guns under their jackets, though.

He didn't have any Secret Service with him today, though. With what was about to happen here in less than an hour, Peter doubted that some assassin or lunatic was going to pick today to knock him off. When the door to Air Force One opened and the jetway was wheeled up, Peter told everyone on the plane that he, his wife, and his son were getting off but that everyone else was going back to Washington. They'd tried to argue, but hell, he was the President of the United States.

Peter stepped closer to the girl and offered out his hand as he said, "Hello. And here, today, my name is just Peter. You … you look familiar. I should remember you, right?"

"Rita Nalley," the 14 year old said. Peter's face would light up with recognition but she was already reminding him, "My mother was Florence Hartford."

"Expedition 22, I remember," he filled in with a tone of respect and regret. "She was doing experiments with, um, don't tell me … electromagnet fibers … a next generation conductor. You've grown up since I last saw you. The unveiling of the memorial, year before last, right?"

"Yes, Mister Pres--" Rita started before catching his expression and correcting, "Yes, Peter."

"I'm sorry I didn't make your mother's funeral," he said.

"Well, you were in a coma at the time," she said with a cute shrug. "I remember 'cause you woke up the day after, otherwise my mother's funeral probably wouldn't have made the papers like it did."

"Your mother was and always will be a national hero, Rita," Peter said with a genuinely sincere tone. "And if she hadn't made the papers, I would have bought the New York Times and given her and each of the men and women lost in the accident the entire front page for a month … each!"

Rita's expression showed her obvious appreciation for Peter's response. She looked out the window toward the nearest alien pod and asked, "Think they use'em? Electromagnetic fibers, I mean?"

"Maybe," Peter responded, following her gaze to the alien machine. "Maybe we'll get a chance to find out today."

They chatted for several minutes before he and the other Invitees were asked to proceed to a lounge in the corner of the airport's departure area. From the two levels here, they had an almost unobstructed view of the tarmac. They also had large screen televisions showing different views provided by the alien cameras.

Peter hadn't known what to expect, nor did anyone else in the airport or anywhere else on the planet. The Humans had been given no description of the shuttle nor of how it flew and landed. Despite having been an astronaut and an ISS2 crew member, what he saw caused his eyes to widen and his mouth to drop open in awe.

Just as with the landing, Peter hadn't known what to expect from the other Invitees in the lounge. There was some excitement, even some glee from a few of those more excited about the trip up to the ship. But most of the Invitees were fairly quiet with the exception of some post landing conversation.

And then it was time. It had been made very clear that no vehicle was to approach the shuttle, and that no one was to carry any device with them. Cell phones, cameras, and even wrist watches had been collected, logged in, and locked away for later return. Peter left his things with his wife, kissing her goodbye and hugging his son.

"Ready, Rita?" he asked after catching the teen's eyes. When she only nodded, he nodded back and said with a bit of humor, "Let's go meet these aliens … and see if Hollywood got anything right about them."

 

[AmyRoberts]

Deleted.