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“I nominate me,” Chad says. “As second in command, it just makes sense.”
Some low murmurs of descent can be heard around the room.
Keenan just smiles at him. “Thank you for volunteering. I think before we choose someone, however, we need to decide what our goal for the mission is.”
“To get the money,” Chad answers.
“Yes, that’s one reason.” Keenan writes the word Mission on the whiteboard, then writes secure funding underneath it. “What else?”
“To represent the team,” Allie says.
Keenan writes that up while Chad sits forward in his chair and says, “But that’s just so we can get the money.”
“No, it’s not,” she tells him. “It’s also so we can do some networking with some of the other?—”
“Who? The ghost idiots?” he sneers.
“And that’s why you’re not going,” Keenan tells Chad.
Chad’s face turns red. “Why? Because I’m honest?”
“Because you’ll have difficulty showing the proper respect for the other delegates.”
“Come on, nobody respects the ghost busters.”
“Dr. Napper did,” Keenan says. “Now, back to the mission. What other goals do we have?”
“To pay our respects to Dr. Napper,” I say.
“Exactly.”
“So we can get the money,” Chad puts in.
I roll my eyes. “It’s also because Dr. Napper was a great man, a visionary, and someone who believed in what we do. We owe that to him.”
“Very good, Gwen,” Keenan says. “Thank you. Now, who will be our best representative?”
Chad sits up. “Well, if we go back to my point of getting the money, we need to pick the person who has the best chance of convincing Mr. Sterling to hand it over. As a master debater, I believe I have the best shot.”
Allie leans in and whispers, “He’s a master debater, all right.”
I stifle a laugh, then murmur, “Yes, I’m sure he master debates at least twice a day.”
Virgil, an astrophysicist in his fifties, puts up his hand. “I think we should send a woman.”
“Interesting,” Keenan answers. “Why?”
“Because Sterling is a straight, single man. A woman will have the best shot.”
“At what? Seducing him?” Allie asks, looking as horrified as I feel.
“No, at convincing him,” Virgil says.
“You know, if we’re going to go with a woman, we should choose the most attractive option,” Edward, one of our astronomers, adds.
“Option?” I ask, wrinkling up my nose. “What are we? Used cars?”
Edward pushes up his glasses on his nose. “Of course not, Gwen. I didn’t word that properly.”
