Sarah watched as Mr. Simon prepared for his post-debate interview with Mick, who looked serene and content and right at home. Sarah just wanted him to get it over with so they could leave. She was quite fed up with the matter-of-fact honesty of the Veritasians. She had already been told that she was overly intense, that her clothes were horribly out of style, and Mr. Simon had proclaimed that he didn’t particularly like children. There was a reason normal people don’t tell every truth, Sarah reasoned, and it was because having all of your flaws pointed out all the time was not a recipe for healthy self-esteem.
“Well,” Mr. Simon said to Mick, “I don’t mind telling you I had a rather disgusting visit with the stomach doctor this morning.”
“What’s the prognosis?” Mick asked, as if it were a perfectly normal line of conversation for a presidential interview.
“Smelly,” Mr. Simon said. “Now then. Let’s discuss your personality. The people would like to know which is your weakest quality as a potential president.”
Mick smiled. “That depends on what you mean by the word ‘weakest.’”
Mr. Simon looked a bit confused. “You don’t know what the word ‘weakest’ means?”
Mick adopted a very patient expression. “Of course I know what it means, but how do I know that you know what it means?”
Sarah realized that Mick had found yet another Planet Veritas loophole. He was a master of nonsense, and nonsense was not necessarily a lie.
“Let’s just say,” Mr. Simon said, “that my definition of ‘weakest’ is the same as your definition of ‘weakest.’ And might I remind you, Mr. Cracken, that you are under oath to tell the whole truth.”
Mick let a pause stretch on. “Well then, I’d definitely say cornflakes.”
Mr. Simon blinked. “Cornflakes are your weakest quality?”
“Yes.” Mick nodded.
“Why what?” Mick asked.
Even Sarah was beginning to want to punch Mick, and she could tell that Mr. Simon shared the sentiment.
“Why are cornflakes your weakest quality?” Mr. Simon asked.
“Why do you think cornflakes are my weakest quality?” Mick asked.
Mr. Simon stared at Mick, and Sarah sensed that he was reconsidering his line of questioning. Mick looked perfectly thrilled with himself.
Mr. Simon shuffled some papers and scowled at Mick. “I’m going to invoke Article Seven of the Veritas Constitution and insist that you answer a series of yes or no questions completely honestly. Failure to comply or any lying will result in immediate imprisonment. Do you understand?”
Mick nodded and reclined in his chair as if he were on vacation. “Yes.”
“Do you think you will be a better president than Candidate Wonderbar?”
“Absolutely,” Mick said.
“Are your days as a space pirate behind you and will you pledge to uphold the law of the land?”
“Will you put the greater good ahead of your own personal self-interest?”
Mick’s eyes glinted. “Yes.”
Sarah recoiled. She had not expected that answer.
“Do you have a crush on your running mate?” the man in red robes asked.
Sarah replayed the last few seconds in her head to make sure she had heard what she thought she had just heard. Mick beamed at her, and though she wanted to shout or yell or demand the interview be terminated, her voice was suddenly out of operation.
“Of course!” Mick said. He winked at Sarah. She wanted to disappear into her chair.
“Let’s talk about Earth,” the man in red robes said.
Sarah was immensely relieved that the conversation was moving to other topics, but she couldn’t help but notice that Mick’s air of confidence appeared to have been punctured by the mention of Earth. He glanced at her with what looked like nervousness.
“There are many Astrals who feel that our mother planet has gone astray and the time for reckoning has arrived. Many voters feel it’s time to… sever ties.”
“What did he mean by that?” Sarah interjected. Mick waved at her to stop, but Sarah wasn’t in the least bit inclined to stop.
Mick smiled indulgently at Mr. Simon and to the cameras. “You’ll love my running mate if you get to know her better.”
Sarah slammed her hand on her chair and didn’t care how many people on their Astral Tellys saw it.
“Now then,” the man in red robes said, “do you want to destroy Earth?”
“What?! Why is he asking you that?” Sarah asked. “Why is that even a question?”
Sarah stared at Mick and he swallowed. It suddenly dawned on her what was happening. She remembered the meeting with the Valkyrians and how Mick promised General Gravy that he would get to destroy the target of his choosing… which must have been Earth. He had given away her planet with a handshake, and it had happened right under her nose without her even knowing. She clenched her hands into fists and tried to figure out what she was going to do about it.
“Answer the question please,” Mr. Simon said. “Do you want to destroy Earth?”
Mick put his head down and shook it. “No, I don’t.”
That didn’t answer Sarah’s question. The issue wasn’t whether he wanted to destroy Earth, but whether he had already agreed to let it happen. She stood up. “Did you promise the Valkyrians that you would let them destroy Earth when the campaign is over?”
Mick wiped his face and stood up. He smiled, but Sarah could tell his expression was fake. “I sure did,” he said. “And ladies and gentlemen of outer space, look closely. I have an Earther representative as my running mate.” He smiled his best cocky grin. “Would some say that this is a sign that Earthers see the wisdom in having their planet blown to bits? Thank you, Sarah, for asking that very important question.”
Sarah lunged at Mick and tackled him to the floor.
