Not everyone agreed with the plan. There were many people in Metzger that did not have kids. Some of them understood the situation and agreed that saving the children was the right thing to do. Others did not wish to starve to death any sooner than they had to and resented the idea that strangers, even children, would be taking their food. Those in this last group had their own meeting after the official meeting.
“I don’t see why I should starve when I have no kids,” said one.
“Anything could happen,” said another. “In a month, anything could happen.”
“I don’t think it’s as bad as they say,” said another. “Earth will come get us. This whole thing is a hoax.”
“I’m not going to stand around and let them plan my murder,” said the disagreeable man. “We need to stop this.”
They all looked at him. “What do you propose, Tom?” said one.
Tom waited a moment to enhance the drama. Then: “I’m in Launch Pad Logistics,” he said. “I have a plan, but we need to move fast.”
Two dark figures moved stealthily down the hallway outside the pad control room. One looked behind to make sure no one had followed while the other fumbled in their pockets, pulled out a security card, and dropped it on the floor.
The lookout gave the other a dirty look. The card dropper shrugged, bent down, and picked up the card. They waved it in front of the scanner by the door. A green light came on. The door clicked and slid open.
The lights in the room came on automatically, spilling through the doorway, blinding the figures and casting their shadows, long and distinct, down the hallway. They cowered against opposing walls, gave each other a panicked look, then rushed into the room. One hurriedly closed the door.
They both crouched as if this would help them remain invisible in the well-lit room. After a moment, one realized this was silly and stood up straight. The other followed. One sat down at a control panel while the other stood watch near the door.
The seated figure clucked quietly under their breath. There had been no one guarding the control room, just as Tom had said. Steinitz apparently thought that nobody would sabotage the saving of children. Well, Steinitz was wrong. The figure touched the screen several times until they found the hydrogen vent control. They touched the button that said Vent. A warning dialog popped up saying Are you sure? Vented hydrogen cannot be recovered. The figure touched Yes.
There was no sound. One display showed a video feed of the tank farm. Nothing obvious was happening out there. But the dial that presented itself on the control screen indicated that precious hydrogen, rocket fuel, was venting away into the lunar darkness.
Suddenly, the lights went out. There was a sound of the door opening and scuffling in the darkness. A crack, a chuff of breath, and the thump of a body hitting the floor. The seated figure began to stand but was suddenly pushed backwards. They lost their balance and fell, hitting their head on the control panel.
The lights came back on to reveal three new figures, these not dressed in black and not sneaking around. One stood guarding the dark figure near the door, one stood over the dark figure near the control panel, and one stood in between. The one near the control panel held a wrench over its head and was about to bring it down upon the helpless figure on the ground. The one in between grabbed the wrench and pulled it away.
“He’s down,” said the wrench grabber.
“So what?” said the other, who happened to be Everett Cook. His face was twisted in rage. “Might’ve just doomed my daughter.”
The wrench grabber tossed the wrench across the room. “He’s down,” they said again. Then they reached to the screen and touched the Cancel Vent button below the dial.
Mason Steinitz sat behind his desk, rubbing one hand slowly back and forth over his scalp. “How much did we lose?” he said.
“Enough,” said Willis. “They won’t be able to catch the cycler with what’s left.”
The base commander’s hand stopped moving. He swore softly. Then he continued rubbing his head. “We can make more,” he said. It was an obvious statement, and he knew it. That was the whole purpose of the base: to mine ice and turn it into propellant. He also knew the answer to the implied question.
“Sure, we can make more,” said the chief engineer. “But not enough in the time we have.”
They looked at each other. Mason Steinitz rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t slept in a couple days. And he was hungry. He was always hungry. He would always be hungry. Until he wasn’t. He took a slow breath. Exhaled. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll call another meeting.”