"Hey, relax," Kinsman said. "These people aren't ene- mies of ours."
Colt shook his head warily.
Kinsman went on, "There's not enough military activity here to make it worth worrying over. You know that, Frank."
"Suppose you stopped supplying food and oxygen to the space stations. Then what?"
"Come on."
"No, I'm serious, man." Colt jabbed a fork into his pork cutlet, the first real meat he'd had in months. "Suppose they knocked out Moonbase or took it over. How'd our guys in the space stations get supplied?"
"From Earthside, of course."
"Yeah? You know how long it'd take to set that up? And what it'd cost? If they knock off Moonbase, they cripple our space stations and the whole system of ABM satellites. They win the battle, man. They own everything from a hundred klicks off the Earth's surface. Which means they own the Earth."
"It won't happen, Frank."
"It could." Colt attacked the cutlet with vigor. "That's why I've been assigned here. Murdock's worried about just that."
Kinsman suddenly was no longer hungry. "I guess I should've taken a look at your orders after all."
"Wouldn't do you any good. Ain't spelled out in black and white. But Murdock gave me a personal call, scrambled at both ends. He thinks you're a mushmelon and he wants me 340 to make sure this place doesn't get bagged. That's why I'm here."
"Terrific," Kinsman said. He pushed his tray away from him. "And the next step will be to get prepared for taking over Lunagrad."
"Could be."
"That's stupid," Kinsman snapped.
"Is it?"
Hold it, Kinsman told himself. Don't let them start a fight between the two of us! With an effort he forced his temper down.
"Frank, do you remember Cy Calder?"
"Who?"
"Old Cy Calder. Way back in the early days, when we were training. Cy was a newsman ..."
