tasks of monitoring. But even here in the Command 
Center, in the heart of Moonbase Alpha, the 
psychological pressure, under which they all were, 
made itself clearly apparent. Rarely had the Commander 
seen his closest coworkers so unfocused.
   "Leigh!" he said sharply and suddenly, "how does the 
curve of the present energy consumption look?" 
   The computer technician with the ash blonde hair flinched, 
as if someone had slapped her. She had been somewhere 
else with her thoughts. Probably with her friend, with 
whom she, as Koenig knew, had heavy problems. 
   She gave a little stutter in response to his question. 
The energy consumption curve was constant - almost fifty 
per cent under normal. 
   John Koenig nodded. At least everyone in all the 
departments adhered to the rigorous energy saving 
program, which he had ordered for the base. 
   The additional information, which Leigh Anderson gave 
him, was less pleasing. Even if the energy consumption 
held itself to the present conditions, the Tiranium 
supplies would be exhausted in scarcely three months. 
And then. . .
   The Commander made a connection to the technical 
department, which was responsible for the Tiranium 
search on the Moon. The face of Dewey Copeland appeared 
on the monitor. Copeland was one of the geologists of 
the base, normally a capable, calm man. Now, however, 
he appeared unusually nervous to John Koenig. Also, 
his psychological stability was obviously suffering. 
This change may have been because Copeland had just 
recently lost his friend and colleague Michael Altmann 
in an accident on the lunar surface. Such things 
naturally weighed on the nerves and mind. 
   "How's it look, Copeland?" inquired the

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