The Man Who Sold Mars

by K Anderson Yancy

  At the ring no one was superior or inferior and everyone could see everyone and everything.

  It was time and I stood at my segment.

  “As you see from the financials before you and the transfers to your accounts this morning, this has been a more than banner year for The Group. Our profits exceeded our expectations by more than three hundred fold.”

  They applauded and Sunny stood. “All through your exceptional leadership and vision. And to thank you, we all voted before the meeting to provide you with a bonus worthy of your accomplishments. Please take a look at your monitor.”

  I looked down and was shocked.

  “He’s speechless. Another landmark day.” Said Allan Matsumura

  The crowd laughed and I joined them.

  I bowed to both halves of the ring. “Mazeltov! Muchas gracias. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I will make quite a few school boards happy this year.” I glanced at the amount again. “Wow. Quite a few.”

  Once more, the crowd applauded.

  I continued. “As you review your packets, you’ll see we’ve outlined a number of targets and objectives for the New Year. I have one that I have not included. It’s Mars.”

  # # #

  Oh, God. Gardner and I knew where he was going literally and figuratively and silently slunk in our chairs in anticipation of the war that would soon follow.

  Greg Tomsho asked, “What’s Mars?”

  And Leanne asked, “The Candy Company?!”

  # # #

  I further explained my point. “It’s the fourth planet of our solar system.”

  Shocked at the implications the audience fell into a frigid silence.

  Undeterred I continued, “Mergers and acquisitions is what we do. We find an asset in which the market is not reflecting its true value and then make it do so.”

  Leanne stated a truth, “There is no market for Mars.”

  I smiled, “Yet.”

  Hemmingson raised a finger, “Assuming we could . . . sell Mars. What would you do with a planet?”

  I asked him, “Mike, what would you do with a planet of your own?”

  Hemmingson thought for an instant and then his eyes blazed with knowledge and hedonism. “I’m in.”

  A few other voices chorused his consent, a very few, two.

  Selena smiled, “I’m in.”

  And so did Gardner, “I’m in.”

  Camilla teased, “Knowing Mr. Hemmingson, he’d have strippers and hookers on every corner.”

  “And call it . . . Paradise.” Was his reply quickly followed by the group’s laughter.

  George Carleton, perpetually no nonsense; hard boiled, business minded contemplating much spoke, “I take it you are proposing a manned—“

  “Staffed, women will be going too.” Leanne corrected. “I’m in.”

  “My apologies, Leanne and to all. I take it you are proposing a staffed expedition to Mars.”

  “Yes.”

  Sunny asked, “And how long do you propose it will take?”

  “Four years to prepare. Six months to eighteen months in transit time there and back and a year in exploration.

  Kevin Fay contemplated, “Seven to eight years total.”

  “Yes. Approximately.”

  George no doubt weighing the soundness of this investment asked, “Only four years?”

  “Approximately, possibly more. The technology already exist. We just need to marry it and enhance it.” He thought for a moment and then said, “I’m in.”

  George surprised me. His decisions usually ran to the immediate and practical, not to the highly speculative.

  Leday said, “That’s a long time for money to be tied up doing nothing.”

  Kevin grinned with great knowledge. He’d already figured out where I would no doubt take us and with his own spin on it, knew the possibilities and probabilities. “It’s not doing nothing. It’s appreciating out of control.”

  George concurred, “If we structure this right, we make money from day one and every day.”

  And Leanne added, “And keep making money whether we make it to Mars or not.”

  “We will make it to Mars.” I sat down and let The Group discuss their implications of my plan.

  Allan Matsumura spoke, “There’s not a single piece of technology in this room—“

  “Or this world that is untouched by the Space Programs.” Camilla interjected.

  Kevin finished a note. “We’ll make a fortune licensing new technology developed for our program.”

  Excited Sunny turned to me, “Stephen, give us more.”

  “That’s all I have for now. There’ll be much more. This is a highly risky and speculative venture. I mentioned it today because I intend to make it happen.”

  Gardner supported me as always, “Everything we do is risky and speculative. But if we use the same strategies we’ve always used, OPM, Other People’s Money, we can do this.”

  I glanced around the room and spoke, “Judging from the looks of disbelief I’m getting from most of you, I don’t anticipate this is something that all of you will be interested in. I am committed to this. Accordingly, I am tendering my resignation as the Chairman of The Board and Chief Executive Officer, but not as a member. If you’re interested in the venture, please let me know at your leisure.”

  4. Announcement To The World

  In a remarkably brief time, later in the busy CNN news center, a newscaster sat before millions.

  Today billionaire wall street Tycoon, Stephen Young, announced the formation of Young Stellar Resources, YSR.”

  For the audience, news conference video rolled of me hosting a gala event at the New York City Observatory, as beautifully clad men and women wined and dined around and throughout the monument.

  I spoke to the people of the world via the cameras of the reporters. “The world’s governments have done an excellent job of laying the foundations for intra stellar flight, exploration and colonization of our neighbors in the heavens. It’s time for the corporate citizens to do their part.”

  A reporter asked, “Corporations are in the business of making money. How can they make money off of space when the governments find space exploration unprofitable?”

  “Money is the life’s blood of all of us, humans, governments and corporations. Typically, governments aren’t in the business of making money. They provide us, their citizens, with services so that we can make money and in turn infuse governments. Europe’s colonization of the New World is an example. A small investment by Spain enriched the mercantilist of Europe.”

  “At the expense of countless indigenous people.” Another reporter commented.

  “True. But we aren’t planning anything remotely linked to exo-genocide or any form for that matter. To the best of our knowledge, Mars and the moon are uninhabited. We’re looking at applications of zero gravity for the manufacture of medicines and materials. The capture of direct sunlight as an inexpensive, clean, and transmittable energy source. The discovery of new metals and alloys . . .

  The video of me dissolved into the CNN Anchor. “For Wall Street’s reaction we go to our business correspondent Margarite Madrid.”

  Margarite spoke to the audience via the camera. “Wall Street greeted the announcement of what is no doubt the most awaited Initial Public Offering, IPO, ever with optimism and skepticism. Some market analysis hailed it as a “bold step for a man and an even bolder step for mankind” while others have dubbed it “Stephen’s Folly”. As for me, I think there’s room in my 401K for an investment in our collective futures”

  In the beyond elegant living room of my condo, a testament of Selena’s design and taste, Selena, Gardner and I watched the news broadcast end. Then I picked up the remote and muted the television.

  Gardner laughed, ““Stephen’s Folly”. “Folly” that’s what they said about Fulton and his steamboat.”

  Selena glanced up from her PDA’s screen, “It looks like we only have commitments from Argine Maroutian, Allan Matsum
ura, Lupe Agoncillo, Greg Tomsho, Camilla, Leanne, George Carleton—“

  “George surprised me.” I was still shocked.

  And Gardner, “Me too.”

  Selena continued with her list, “Kevin Fay, Michael Hemmingson, Leday, Linda Singh, and Sunny Sahijwani also signed on.”

  “Eleven, thirteen including you two. Way more than I expected. Or needed.”

  Gardner asked, “How many did you need?”

  “Two.”

  Selena’s eyes sparkled, “You don’t need anyone.”

  “I do need you two. Because—“ I feigned crying. “Now, you’re making me all weepy eyed.”

  We all laughed.

  Gardner poured himself more wine. “What next?”

  “We need to find someone to really run this thing.”

  Selena puzzled. “You’re not?”

  “I am and I will. My product is a very successful company. Our company’s primary product is a very successful mission to Mars and back. And, I already have him.”

  5. They’re Coming For You. Be Ready.

  In Alexandria Virginia’s Charthouse restaurant, the head of NASA, Gerard Hillard, sat relaxing with a drink, while glancing out the big bay windows at the full moon’s light, dancing across the low, lazy waves on the Potomac River.

  The voice of a flaming gay man intruded upon his silence. “I saw your cute self sitting over here and I just had to come and meet you.”

  Gerard flamed back, “Well girlfriend, you just come over here and give me some lovin’.”

  He and I embraced with a laugh.

  Then in his normal voice he asked, “Stephen, how have you been?”

  “Good. Good. How are Gloria and the girls?”

  We sat.

  “Good. The girls are all teenagers now. Nowhere near their peak spending years, but still doing significant damage.”

  I laughed, “So, how are you, you old devil dog.”

  “Cute of course.”

  We laughed.

  “Your old shuttle crew says hi and to pass you their resumes.”

  “They’re hired. How does Gloria feel about making a new home in—“

  “I haven’t told her.”

  “You’re not—“

  “No. I’m not.”

  “How can you pass on this? Mars. It’s an amazing opportunity.”

  “I know it is.”

  “Gerard, “Just think about it—“

  “I have. Way more than you can imagine. You’ve picked an incredibly impossible task.”

  “I know. But going to Mars is not difficult.”

  “Not difficult! Stephen—”

  “OK. Not difficult in the grand scheme of things.”

  “Like creating the universe.”

  Again, we laughed.

  “True. So. Join me.”

  “The U.S. Government is—“

  “The government is behind me.”

  “True. And that’s not a good place. You should know that by now. Always, keep the government in front of you, so you can see what it’s doing. Because behind you, there’s elements of it that are going to pull down your pants and undies, bend you over, and not even bother to lube up.”

  I laughed. “I’m not worried.”

  “While you and the “Billionaire Boys & Girls Club” were just content to amass a fortune The Government was content to let you. This is different.”

  “How? They’re embarrassed.”

  “And maaaaaaad. Granted not everyone. Ninety Nine point ninety nine percent of the people at NASA will join you in a heartbeat. It’s that point zero one that’s a problem.”

  “It always is. The “Billionaire Boys & Girls Club” did not amass a fortune by not being ruthless or more when forced to be.”

  “You have a whole group of people who through your actions had their lives’ works invalidated, by essentially calling them lazy, short sighted people who lack vision and initiative.”

  “The truth will set them free. It should have a long time ago. Some of those people should be selling hot dogs from a cart, not managing multi billion dollar space programs.”

  “Now, they’re enkindled and redirected their initiative. And you my friend are their target.”

  “I’m ready. I was ready for them and a whole lot of other people waaaaaaayyy before I opened my mouth.”

  “Really? Because when they come—“

  “Which side are you on?”

  “The next scheduled human moon landing is in 2025? Or should I say first.”

  “What?! First? What do you mean?”

  “I came to NASA to put people in space, to colonize worlds, I’ve never known. What side do you think I’m on? And then there’s you and I. Sweetness.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s just after they’ve left your dream in shatters, I would still like to have mine.”

  I grinned. “It’s not going to happen.”

  “I would like to hope not. However, I do know someone who’d be interested in the position and exceptional.”

  6. Assignation With Tatyana

  I walked into the offices of Tatyana Fedorova, a woman of unimaginable intelligence, beauty, command, style and grace, the head of the RSA, the Russian Space Agency and by far the youngest to ever hold that post.

  For a moment, I was stunned by how attractive she was. She, knowing it, began calculating her moves. I noticed she was strategizing and my eyes gleamed in response to the challenge. Flashing a becoming smile, I signaled the game was on and she accepted.

  In a heavy Russian accent she said, “Mister Young. To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

  “Since you’ve refused my offer, I am here to make it in person.”

  “Mister Young—“

  “Stephen.”

  “Stephen. You know how difficult spurned women can be.”

  I laughed, “I know how difficult all women can be.”

  Tatyana laughed and gave me a sensual smile. “I should throw you out my office for that.”

  “But you won’t.”

  “But the day is still young, Mr. Young.”

  “Yes. You were not my second choice. It was more like a tie for first. When you have two exceptional opportunities, but can only choose one.”

  “I see. Could it be family ties run deep? Did not the head of NASA, Doctor Gerard Hillard, serve with your father in the US Marines? Mentor you through the U.S. Naval Academy, the Marines, and later NASA.”

  “Yes. Yes and more. But, this is the problem I have. I am an American and I need access to the American, European and Asian capital markets in a highly visible way. Your capital markets are what they are.”

  “We are not as backwards as you think—“

  “Parts of your nation don’t have phone service. I can make a list a long list of what you don’t have.”

  “Did you come here to insult me?”

  “No, to speak the truth. By the way, you look stunning and if you turn down this job offer again, at least have dinner with me.”

  Tatyana’s eyes sparkled and she grinned.

  “I have to not only deal with capital markets, but American Earthbound Xenophobia as we reach for the stars. This has to be an American project based in America—“

  “But with a global face to the rest of the world. Interesting. But, I am a patriot. I am not for sale.”

  “I don’t want to own you. Just rent you.”

  Tatyana smiled at the humor.

  “Not only am I prepared to offer you a generous salary—“

  “I would hope at this point you would be offering me a more than generous salary.”

  “Not only am I prepared to offer you a more than generous salary. I will have significant portions of the work performed here in Russia. Whether you choose to stay with me after the mission is completed or return to Russia, you will have a much more vibrant space program developed on my dime.”

  Tatyana sat silent and noncommittal.

  “You are on the verge o
f a space race like no other. An adventure unparalleled in our recorded history. Granted, what I will do will encourage those nations that can afford to play to play. But wait until the corporations enter the race. And they will. We will have the discovery of the New Worlds, their colonization and the mercantilism symbolized by the clipper ships compacted into an instance. A nation has a multitude of things it must do, feed, educate, protect, . . . A corporation only has one, maximize its share values by managing its objectives. If you think your space program is behind others—in some ways, give it a decade. It will be Neolithic.”

  Tatyana remained stoic.

  “The facility that produced your space shuttles, which never launched with a human crew, is producing diapers now. And syringes. Please think about my offer.”

  Tatyana remained unchanged. “What nation is “shuttling” your astronauts to The International Space Station, since your short sighted government decided to discontinue its shuttle program?”

  “You know what I mean. Please consider my offer.”

  “I have. My decision is the same one I’d made before you came into my office.”

  “I’m sorry. Thank you for your time.”

  “Why are you sorry? I’m taking the job. I’d decided that long before you came into my office.”

  I laughed.

  She grinned. “I’m a spurned woman. I wanted to hear you beg.”

  We laughed.

  “Dinner however is out of the question. It’s lunch time and I’m famished.”

  7. Hell Hath No Furry . . .

  “Hey Kevin.”

  Gardner grinned as he spoke to me as I entered his more than lavish Young Stellar Resources Penthouse Office. I glanced at my watch. “Hi, Gardner. Have you heard from Stephen? What’s going on in Moscow?”

  “No I haven’t. Gardner hit a number on his phone and speed dialed Stephen’s number, and the tonal sequence streaked through its speakers.

  # # #

  Just opposite the Bolshoi Theater, transported back in time to an elegant and stylish turn-of-the-century atmosphere, in my suite at The Metropol, the most elegant of Moscow’s historic hotels, built in the Art nouveau style, my cell phone vibrated across a night stand, rousing me from my sleep. I reached for it and caught it as it bounced and tumbled over the edge.