Entering Space munkeymunkey Dominic refilled his mug with more steaming, exhilarating herbal tea as he read the newspaper. What he saw disappointed him. Starbucks’ stock had not only risen another twelve points, but had also left Dom’s dairy company far in the dust. He glanced at the photograph of Devon, himself, and their three children. It made him feel a little better and Dom was able to manage a slight smile. But that wasn’t enough; he was still frustrated. Ever since Starbucks turned down his offer to purchase his chinchilla-made dairy products over other companies, Dom felt a little less happy about seeing one of those shops around every corner. And now Starbucks had fleets of spaceships. They had spread all across the galaxy, maybe even beyond it. The MMBCDairy lacked that technology, as well as that amount of money. As Dominic’s dairy remained at mediocre levels, the large companies were smothering his and those he supplied. Of course, his dairy products weren’t cheap, but they were quality and humane. The chinchilla’s weren’t even caged. They lived in various places on the home planet, all in the hills or mountains. The chinchillas were treated humanely, had plenty to eat, and were generally happy. Happy, healthy chinchillas made wonderfully perfect milk. And although MMBCDariy was the first ever chinchilla dairy, the cheap competition was trying on Dominic’s patience. He had to do something. The competitiveness of goat and cow products had dropped so far that they weren’t a bother (chinchilla milk has more vitamin D and calcium and less fat than goat or cow product, not to mention it simply tastes better), but these new companies, especially the one that Starbucks was the parent of, were ruthless. Dom couldn’t help himself anymore. He raised his mug of tea once more and lifted it, not to his mouth, but above his head. In all of the fury he could muster, he thrust the mug back onto his wicker coaster, splashing a drop of herbal tea onto the floor. And Dom didn’t even bother to clean it up. He was determined, and he was enraged. “Melville!” he called. A chair could be heard squeaking and moving on the other side of the door. Shuffling then ensued, followed by the creaking open of Dom’s office door. His product manager and closest advisor (besides Dom’s wife, of course), Melville Aberdeen, poked his pale, nervous head through the doorway. He always looked as if he had just seen a ghost who had requested to be eaten by poor Melville. He was a good worker, however, despite his inherent fear of everything and skittish manner. He was at least happy to please and determined to achieve victory over his fearful self. “Come on in, Melville; sit” Dominic motioned with his hand towards the wicker chair across from his. “What did you need, Dominic?” “Well, Mel, I’ve been thinking, and I believe that we need something new, something competitive. A new market, a new product, a new advertisement, a more comfortable tie, something. If large companies like Starbucks are going to continue parenting their own dairy companies, then we’re done for. These companies have all of the funding they need, have the big time markets, and are selling cheaper than us because of the little care in humanity and quality they house. They’re even starting to take some of our market, not just preventing our spreading. I’ve been talking with Wally, he doesn’t like the numbers. Of course, he’s on vacation right now, and Devon’s with the kids at that, what do you call it? “Carnival, sir?” Melville quietly inquired. “Yes, Melville, carnival! Anyway, you’re my only advisor here, and I need something now. I can’t think of anything; I’m too angry and flustered right now to even talk.” “I can see, Dominic. You need something now, and I’m the only one here who can help you. Wow, th-that doesn’t happen often. Well…” Dominic began tapping his finger on his desk as he painfully watched the nervous, twitching Melville cope with such pressure. He thought about how Devon or Wally would have figured something out by now; poor Melville was so slow with this sort of thing. Of course, he also seemed to have the best ideas, when they finally came. He’d have to be patient. His eyes wandered; they made contact with the drop of tea that was on his wooden floor. He held himself back from grabbing his wet-jet and mopping it up. He had to wait for Melville. That was a rather large drop, though. Hopefully it wouldn’t stain. And of course the stain remover was low now; it always was after the kids visited the office. Every single time. Why couldn’t Melville think a little faster? Finally, he saw Melville’s fingers fly into the air and snap triumphantly before Melville sank swiftly back into his chair, embarrassed; this was a sure sign that he had an idea and over-excited himself. “Do you have something, Mel?” “I-I think so, sir,” Melville mumbled. “Let’s hear it then!” Dom exclaimed, trying to encourage Melville to speak. Dominic was supposed to be at the carnival in Hampshire Park at six to meet his family. It was now five. If he were to go the speed limit, it would take exactly eighteen minutes to drive. There was traffic, so twenty-three, then parking, twenty-nine, and of course cleaning his floor, washing his car before and after the ride, and making sure that James and Mary would be fine closing things up. It would take him approximately forty-thee minutes, and Dom always tried to leave himself five extra ones, just in case. He’d have to be done in twelve minutes. It seemed possible. By this time, Mel was ready to speak. “Okay,” he began, breathing heavily. “What if we expanded galactically?” “Galactically? Is it possible for us?” “It might be,” replied Melville, “but probably not; it was a bad idea.” “No, no. Wait, Mel, you might be onto something. Entering the space age, trading with companies from other planets… it would probably be fantastic business. I’m just not sure about the finances. I’d have to I don’t know, rig the lottery, have some rich benefactor donate or loan us money, or, no, that’d be illegal. Never mind the third one.” “Actually, sir, I already know of a man who’d probably be happy to loan us, maybe even give us the money,” Melville spoke, almost whispering. “You do, Melville? Call him up! What’s his name? Do I know him?” “Well, in a sense, sir. You see, Mr. Shamus Luckhur-“ “Shamus Luckhurst? That disgustingly rich kid who inherited about eight billion dollars, from each grandparent?” “Well, yes, sir. If you look at the page in your newspaper, he’s looking to fund a small, shareholder run company that wishes to expand into space.” Melville turned the page in the newspaper and pointed to the article. “You see, Dominic? Right here.” “I do see, Mel; nice job. That’s considerate of the fellow. What’s the catch?” “There are two things, sir… I don’t know if you’ll really want-“ “What are they?” “First, he says that he plans to buy as much of the company’s stock that’s available to ensure that he has a major impact on decisions.” “He could get about 37% right now. That’s not too much. Between Wallace, you, and me, we have 50.001%. What else?” “He wants to ‘drive the fast ships.’” “‘Drive the fast ships?’ That’s… different.” “I know, Dominic. Bu-but I had James do some research when he came in this afternoon, and Mr. Luckhurst has plenty of piloting training. He has more than Wallace and I have put together, including space training.” “All of that money comes in handy… Well, then, it’s settled, Melville. It’s ten after five, so I have two minutes before I need to start moving. You make a phone call to Mr. Luckhurst now and get him contracted, signed, kidnapped, whatever you need to get that deal. After that, contact Wallace. He should hear about this. I’ll tell Devon at the carnival.” “Yes, sir,” said Melville. Both men stood from their seats and shook hands. Dominic looked at Melville and smiled a beaming grin. “I guess this is it, then, Melville. You’ve done good work.” “Thanks, Dominic.” Melville went from pale to bright red as he bashfully turned his face and fled the office. Dominic, now with a sense of accomplishment, proudly scooped up his wet- jet, applied a new mop-cloth, sprayed the drop of tea, and swept it up. As he threw away the soiled mop-cloth, he sighed with satisfaction. A solution had been found.