The others ran from the room, heading for the wrecked ship. Bronsen watched them with dull eyes and made no attempt to follow. What could they do for the four men that had gone to their deaths in his mad creation? What could they do for the millions of dollars that now lay a twisted heap of rubble? He turned to drag his defeated body back to the lab, to twist and mull in his mind what had happened, and found himself looking into the glaring eyes of Mars.
"I told you, didn't I, Mr. Corbow?"
Bronsen covered his ears so that he wouldn't hear. He screamed, "Shut up! Shut up before I slam you one."
Mars spat in disgust. "Four nice guys in that ship, too. Knew 'em, didn't you?"
Bronsen's hammer-hard first smashed into Mars' mouth and the old man was slammed against the wall before falling in a crumpled heap on the floor. He sat there, the blood oozing from his mouth as he stared at the retreating back of the man he never thought would have enough nerve to really hit him. Now he was sorry he had said anything and the self pity welled up within him. He really didn't mean half of what he always managed to spit out. What made him do it? He wiped the blood from his mouth and pulled himself to his feet.
Bronsen slumped further down into the soft contours of the chair, eyeing Hanson Reed with a tortured soul. The president of Inter Galactic Enterprises glared at him from the other side of the desk, every inch of his paunchy frame the body of an outraged executive. He chewed violently on the black cigar in his mouth and waited impatiently for Bronsen to explain. Bronsen spread his hands helplessly.
"I don't know Reed. I just don't know." His shoulders heaved in a sigh of dejection. "Every single person in the moon lab has been looking for an answer and we still can't find out why the ship crashed. We've tested the laboratory models over and over again. We've gone over every little detail and have nothing but a blank to show for it."
Reed chewed more savagely at the end of his cold cigar. "We spent two million dollars on research and development and all we have to show for it is a pile of scrap metal and four corpses scattered over the lunar landscape. There's got to be some explanation."
"Just one in a million chances that an accident like this would happen," Bronsen countered desperately. "It's just coincidence that it happened on the first model."