Peter McKinnon waited outside the doors leading into the audience chamber for the ruling Tribunal. He couldn't imagine why he'd been summoned, and not knowing was making him nervous. While pacing the waiting area, he cast an occasional glance out the window. Clouds of brown toxin choked the outside world, a leftover from the last war of 2104.

Countless millions had died during those early years before the domes had been built. Peter's grandfather had been one of the workers on this dome. Like all those who went outside, his grandfather hadn't survived. Environmental protection suits weren't as closed off as the dome, and repeated exposure to the hostile atmosphere claimed every worker who'd left the underground shelters to construct the domes over the various cities. Every covered city on the planet owed its existence to the countless workers who'd forfeited their lives to provide a better world for those they'd left behind.

"Mr. McKinnon," called the translucent blue hologram of the automated secretary. "The Tribunal will see you now."

Peter took a measured breath and entered the double doors of the audience chamber. The doors were a manual style common in more primitive technological years, but it was only because the mechanics and sensors to automate them had been salvaged for a repair project last week. Nothing in the dome was wasted if it could serve a greater need elsewhere.

Despite space being limited inside the dome, the audience chamber was large. Rows of chairs circled the space, and each row toward the front of the room was slightly lower than the one previous. It made the three chairs of the Tribunal sunken and visible to everyone in the room. Additionally, the design forced the leadership to look up to the citizens and not the other way around. To promote citizen involvement with the government, the room had been built to accommodate a sizable crowd. People were encouraged to bring their problems, concerns, and ideas before the Tribunal. Today, however, the room was conspicuously empty except for the three members of the Tribunal.

"Come in," bid the man in the left of the three main seats of government administration. He was a large man, even sitting down. His dark skin contrasted with the white of his simple, utility jumpsuit. The uniform held no ornamentation or decoration to show the years of service this man had given to his city, only a name badge stitched to his torso, Delmar. It allowed him to work amongst the people without being noticed by anyone who didn't recognize him by sight or name.

Peter tugged on the stomach of his own jumpsuit to straighten it and remove any wrinkles. He walked through the rows of empty seats, heading toward the three most powerful people in the city. He tried to be casual and not let the Tribunal notice as he brushed the nervous sweat from his palms on the sides of his pants legs.

"How may I serve today?" Peter asked, working hard to keep his voice steady and not reveal his discomfort.

"We want you to take command of Project Epsilon," answered the central council member. She had shoulder length gray hair, and despite her slender frame, the fire in her eyes showed she was anything but frail. Her name tag identified her as Chalmers.

"I'm sorry, but I have no idea what Project Epsilon is, so how can I be expected to command it properly?" Peter questioned.

"What we are about to tell you is known only to the city Tribunals and a few scientists. You are forbidden from telling anyone." declared central Tribunal leader Chalmers. She fixed Peter with a firm gaze. "Is that clear?"

Peter nodded as he was uncertain he could get his voice to respond.

"Our scientists have discovered the toxins outside are mutating, and the new form is corrosive," Chalmers told him. "In the most basic explanation, the toxin cloud has begun to eat the domes. Eventually, the structural integrity will be lost and the domes will fail. When this happens, everyone in every city will die."

Peter stood completely motionless while his brain worked furiously to comprehend what he'd been told. It seemed impossible, but the entire human race was about to end. A single thought cut through the chaos in him mind, and he gave it a voice. "What does Project Epsilon have to do with this catastrophe?"

"It is a classified program to build and launch a spaceship, evacuating as many as we can to a new world," said the final member of the Tribunal, who until now had been silent. Seated to Peter's right, he had a heavyset appearance, his white jumpsuit snug over well-built muscles. The light colored hair on his scalp had been shaved to thin fuzz. The Tribunal officer, designated as Northrop by his nametag, had a face as firm as stone.

"I don't know anything about spaceships, interstellar travel, or colonizing other planets," Peter respectfully objected.

"We didn't want you for the job because of your skill in these areas," Chalmers stated flatly. "Your superiors have made numerous notations in your record about your work history. Your ability to get people to work together despite their differences will be invaluable on this operation as speed is paramount. Any personal problems capable of slowing progress could lead to all our deaths and must be avoided. You'll need to keep everyone focused and unified to meet production deadlines."

"If the people know about the problem, it would give them motivation to work harder," Peter suggested.

"No," Northrop quickly denied, his hard expression unmoving. "You cannot tell them. If word the city is doomed leaks out, it will cause mass panic and disrupt any coordinated attempt at an evacuation. It must remain a secret."

"How can I work on a citywide project without people discovering what it is?" Peter queried.

"Strategic division of labor," Delmar answered. "Set people to working on different things, but make sure none of them have enough information to put all the pieces together. Only you, as head of the project, will have a full grasp of the situation. If you should require assistance, we've set up a secure communication line with the other city domes as each city is constructing its own ship. They may have ideas to help you, or the other way around. Ultimately, the survival of this city will be your responsibility."

Peter had to remind himself to breathe. He'd never been asked to do so much, but what alternative did he have? If he said no, everyone would die, including him. He realized it didn't matter if he was up to the task or not. Doing nothing would end in death; if he wasn't good enough to accomplish his mission, everyone would still die. The only chance, no matter how slim or farfetched, was to give his all to the project and hope it was enough. Laying down to die, simply accepting his fate, wasn't an option.

"Where do I start?" he asked.

                                                                                                 ***

Peter was given a full summery of what had already been started in the city. Supplies had been requisitioned by order of the Tribunal to begin construction. The parts for the automated doors to the assembly hall, originally thought to have been pulled for a repair job, had actually been removed to aid in the construction of the escape ship. The Tribunal had been secretly shuffling equipment and personnel around to keep the citizens in the dark as to what was really going on.

Because the Tribunal had been aware and actively working on the problem for some time, they had a head start on the preparations, leaving it to Peter to finish what they had begun. They gave him detailed listings for everything he would need to build, launch, and maintain a ship for the journey to another world. The Tribunal also provided a complete inventory of all supplies and personnel in the city, giving him written orders and authorization to make use of whoever or whatever he required.

Even with such information and authority at hand, it was still a daunting task in Peter's mind. He understood he was on a shorter time schedule than what the Tribunal had told him. The failure of the dome wasn't his true deadline; his real objective was to complete his mission before the general public learned of the threat to the city. If mass hysteria swept through the dome, it was unlikely the ship would be completed at all.

Peter entered his room and locked the door behind him. During the last several days, Peter had spent every waking moment trying to decide which supplies were needed first and which ones he could appropriate without attracting unwanted attention. If he started taking life support equipment, it would certainly be noticed and cause concern among the population. He had to find another way to gather the needed materials, so he decided to make use of the secure communication line and contact a fellow project leader in domed city five.

None of the cities had names any more, only number designations. During the chaos of the last war, bunkers were used to shelter the people while the domes were constructed. No one cared if they had names or were specially titled. The only thing of importance was the domes being safe for their people.

Peter's display screen flickered as the connection was made and encrypted for added security. When the blurring stabilized, the image was of a man in his late thirties. His gray jumpsuit was stained with grease and machine coolant. A few streaks of gray had crept into his dark brown hair, and Peter assumed it was from job related stress. Peter suspected he'd have plenty of his own before the project was done.

"Maurice Beaumont?" Peter questioned.

"That's me," the man answered.

"I'm Peter McKinnon," he introduced. "I'm head of Project Epsilon in city two. I need your advice. I'm running into trouble either trying to find supplies I can take without raising alarm, or making excuses for what is being collected so the people don't panic. How have you been managing in city five?"

"Forget trying to get the gear in the city for the time being," Maurice advised. "My teams have been pulling from the old bunkers under the city."

"Genius," Peter marveled. He hadn't considered making use of the old bunker.

"Since we're not using the bunkers any longer, it makes sense not to let the materials down there go to waste," Maurice explained. "We have a few plausible explanations for the project you might want to employ."

"Let's hear them," Peter said, activating a data tablet to take notes.

"Firstly, we didn't try to come up with a single reason," Maurice began. "It's too big of a project to have one blanket excuse for everything without someone jumping to a conclusion far too close to the truth. We started several smaller projects. Satellite space exploration covers the need for engines, guidance systems, and interstellar navigational equipment. Life support gear can be explained by a project to build a better environmental suit, so our people can one day leave the dome. Part of that one is true as we are planning to leave the dome, so people shouldn't question it too much."

"What about the hull of the ship?" Peter asked.

"Use part of the truth," Maurice advised. "Tell anyone who asks, you're building new living accommodations. Just don't tell them where those accommodations are going to be located."

"These are fantastic ideas," Peter praised.

"Maybe you can help me with a problem I'm having," Maurice suggested.

"I hope I can," Peter said. "What's your problem?"

"I think one of my people may have discovered what we're doing," Maurice told him. "He's very smart, and he's done work in a couple of different areas."

"Get the permission of the Tribunal and bring him in on the project," Peter advised. "If he is as smart as you say, he'll realize the danger he'd be putting the city in by letting the information out, and he'll have a strong motivation to help the project move forward."

"What if I'm wrong about him?" Maurice asked. "What if he decides to warn his family and the word gets out?"

"If you're uncertain he'll keep his mouth shut," Peter said, hating what was coming next. "You'll have to silence him."

"You mean kill him," Maurice clarified.

"Accidents happen," Peter stated, his stomach twisting uncomfortably at the horrid suggestion. "I know it's an awful thing to say, but if it comes down to protecting the life of one man versus protecting the life of everyone in the city, which is more important? Talk to him first as the problem may not even arise, but we have to keep this project going, no matter the cost."