Criminal Negligence

Somebody was going to have to be left behind ... and who it would be was perfectly obvious....
Warden Halloran smiled slightly. You expect to have criminals on Mars, then? he asked. Is that why you want me?
Of course we don't, sir! snapped the lieutenant general. His name was Knox. We need men of your administrative ability—
Pardon me, general, Lansing interposed smoothly, I rather think we'd better give the warden a ... a more detailed picture, shall we say? We have been rather abrupt, you know.
I'd be grateful if you would, Halloran said.
He watched the lanky civilian as Lansing puffed jerkily on his cigar. A long man, with a shock of black hair tumbling over a high, narrow forehead, Lansing had introduced himself as chairman of the project's coördinating committee ... whatever that was.
Go ahead, grunted Knox. But make it fast, doctor.
Lansing smiled at the warden, carefully placed his cigar in the ash tray before him and said, We've been working on the ships night and day. Both the dust itself and its secondary effects are getter closer to us all the time. We've been so intent on the job—it's really been a race against time!—that only yesterday one of my young men remembered the Mountain State Penitentiary was well within our sphere of control.
The country—what's left of it—has been split up into regions, the general said. So many ships to each region.
So, Lansing went on, learning about you meant there was another batch of passengers to round up. And when I was told the warden was yourself—I know something of your career, Mr. Halloran—I was delighted. Frankly, he grinned at Knox, we're long on military and scientific brass and short on people who can manage other people.
I see. Halloran pressed a buzzer on his desk. I think some of my associates ought to be in on this discussion.
Discussion? barked Knox. Is there anything to discuss? We simply want you out of here in an hour—