The Town Hall

The town hall took place in Lunar One's main hanger, which was the only area big enough to fit most of the people who resided there. Close to two hundred and fifty people packed themselves into the massive room, eager to speak about what happened and what the lunar base intended to do in the near future. Commander Gordon as well as Doctor Hoffman thought doing an open meeting would be wise to update people on what was going on and assure them that food supplies and other vital necessities were in good shape. IN other words, there was nothing to worry about on Lunar One. This was to be more like a briefing, but since not everyone on the base were soldiers, which is why Hoffman warned the commander to be patient with those who wanted to speak out and maybe ask a question or two. Gordon was confident that he wouldn't be interrupted to the point where he wrote down notes to make sure the briefing went as smoothly as possible. He was taken by surprise about halfway through when Morgan Taylor was the first to raise his hand. Gordon looked over at him, curious about what the young Doctor had to say.

"Doctor Taylor," Gordon said, placing his notes down on the podium they had pulled in there for the meeting. "Do you have something to add?"

"More of a question, actually." Morgan said, standing up so everyone could see. "I was wondering if you had any idea when we would be holding the next election."

"The next election?" Gordon repeated.

"Yes, shouldn't we elect our next leader?" Morgan then countered.

"What makes you think Lunar One will have one?" Gordon retorted.

"This base is build and commanded by the United States of America, was it not?" Morgan asked, eager to know the answer.

"You know it was." Gordon replied.

"Then this base is supposed to follow all the rules," Morgan continued, "Especially the constitution; the very same document that you and every soldier on this base took an oath to uphold against all enemies, foreign or domestic."

At that moment, everyone turned to face Gordon to hear his answer.

"I don't understand what you're asking," Gordon said, clearly stalling.

"Chances are, our Commander in Chief is dead." Morgan called out, "Since the entire chain of succession is likely dead as well, wouldn't it be our responsibly, no, our duty to elect a new President?"

At that very moment, most of not all of the soldiers in attendance began to clap and cheer as they were strong supporters of democracy. Gordon looked around and began to realize that fighting this idea was futile. So he decided to attack the idea from a different angle.

"We have no proof the President is dead," Gordon argued, "She has a bunker that was quite capable of surviving. We should make every effort to make contact before writing her off."

"That's not a bad idea," Morgan said, "But we should still elect a new leader to take over until those communications are restored."

Gordon rubbed his temple. "When do you suggest we hold this election? November is a few months away. Do you mind if we do it on the first Tuesday like we always do?"

"Sounds like a plan to me," Morgan replied, "But if you plan to run, Commander, I should remind you if you run for President then you would have to resign your position with the military."

There was a hush amongst the audience, as most of them were aware of the many guidelines that limits what an active solider can or cannot do when running for public office. Gordon did his best to remain calm despite just being asked to step down from his command.

"I never said I was going to run, Doctor Taylor." Gordon replied, "Politics usually leaves a bad taste in my mouth."

Everyone in the room laughed, and with that Taylor sat back down and the meeting resumed from there. While there were more questions, none of them were as heavy handed as the grenade that Doctor Taylor had lobbed directly at Gordon. The part that hurt most about it was how correct he was. The constitution did call for elections to be held to elect new leaders. Gordon was fuming and almost red as an apple as he walked away from the meeting. Hoffman ran to catch up with him.

"Commander," the doctor started, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Gordon replied.

"You complexion would say otherwise." Hoffman said as he stood in front of Gordon and blocked him from walking further. "I get why you're unnerved. He just challenged your authority in front of everyone, but that doesn't make him wrong. We are all Americans, well most of us are. That means we should do whatever we can to uphold and continue our way of life... even on Lunar One."

"So you think we should elect a President, who will basically become the new commander of Lunar One?" Gordon asked.

"Well, sort of." Hoffman corrected.

"What do you mean by that?" Gordon replied.

"Well, our constitution is full of checks and balances," Hoffman explained, "Even for the President. That's what Congress is for."

Gordon thought about it. "So you idea is we also elect a congress? So we can have political gridlock here on the station? That would make us one wrong decision away from civil war, and that is the last thing we need when we are the last of our species!"

"What are you worried about?" Hoffman asked, "Seriously?"

"You know Taylor will run," Gordon replied.

"It's his right as a US civilian." Hoffman confirmed, "Doesn't mean he'll win. What if someone else runs and presents a better platform. Why not have a little faith in the very system that brought us here? Democracy is what brought us to the moon. This base isn't run or created by dictatorships; it was built on the backs of free people who volunteered to participate. We do their memory a disservice if we turn our backs on those principals now. You're a soldier, so you of all people should remember the sacrifices were made before us; the many brave soldiers who gave their lives in the trenches of Europe and the beaches of Normandy."

"You're getting a little hot under the collar yourself," Gordon observed, as he realized how sensitive this issue was with the psychiatrist. "Did you know someone who served?"

"My father served during the second world war," Hoffman replied, "He was in Okinawa."

"Jesus," Gordon said, as he was unaware of that fact. "That was no picnic by any means. For eighty-two days over a quarter of a million troops clashed in battle on that small island in 1945."

"The Japanese called it the typhoon of steel." Hoffman added.

"The allies alone took over fifty thousand casualties." Gordon said, as he paused to remember reading about it in books. He was too young to have taken part those battles, but he still had his fair share of war. Gordon served in Vietnam and had his fair share of hell. He knew what it was like to be pinned down by enemy fire, to shoot back and pray that you'd make it out of that battle with your body and soul intact.

"And you father was there?" Gordon asked.

"He was," Hoffman confirmed, "And while he was lucky enough to survive the campaign, the man that came back to us was not the same that left. He returned with a limp that required crutches and eventually just a cane for the rest of his life. He was proud of the work he had done, defending our nation. You owe it to soldiers that came before you, to make sure their lives were not lost in vain. This isn't the time to declare martial law, because that will cause a revolt on this station a hell of a lost faster than anything politics could ever come up with."

Gordon paused for a moment and reflected on what the Doctor had just told him. While Taylor came off as rebellious and even a little challenging to authority, Hoffman's words rang far more true concerning the preservation of democracy and what the constitution stood for.

"Alright, doctor," Gordon finally replied, "I'll assemble a committee, and it will include both yourself and Doctor Taylor, and then we'll set ground rules for holding the next election here on the base."

"You won't regret this," Hoffman said, rather proud of himself. "The system isn't perfect, but it did rather well for us, don't you think?"

"That's a good point," Gordon agreed, "If you'll excuse me, I want to get back to my office and resume work that needs my attention. Shall we continue this discussion at a later time, perhaps over dinner?"

"Of course," Doctor Hoffman said, stepping aside. "And thank you for hearing me out."

Gordon didn't respond and instead continued walking down the hallway and back towards his office. As much as the idea freaked him out a bit during the base's town hall, Hoffman had wisely reminded him that going in the opposite direction could cause bigger issue rather than embracing free elections. Once in his office, Gordon opened a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a small glass. He sat down and slowly sipped the drink, thinking about what his next move would be. He was hesitant to put someone like Morgan Taylor in charge, but at the same time refusing basic rights might cause unrest as Hoffman had suggested. He would have to try to find a solution that kept all parties satisfied; a plan that would snuff out the challenge to his authority without upsetting the people who want to continue exercising democracy. As he slowly sipped the whiskey from the glass, Gordon weighed all possible options and thought long and hard about his next move.