Tyranny!
It’s simple to trace somebody’s trail on the Moon, since there’s no wind or rain to erase tracks. It was even easier here, since whatever had been in the containers originally had been dragged, leaving behind a broad path for them to follow. The big problem was going to be the air. Tobias and the Euros had almost-guaranteed supplemental oxygen tanks to extend their range, and obviously Buckley’s people (Tobias made himself use that word, ruthlessly suppressing any other)… could make their own arrangements. There would still be a limit to how far they could explore. “If we get to the halfway point and we don’t find a functional habitat,” Tobias told Reithner, “we go back, and get a maintenance team out here to seal the entrance. If somebody wanted junk for their fancy tomb, fine. They can have it.”
“And if there are people, sir?” Reithner switched circuits to the officers’-only band. “The General briefed me on our troubles with life support. If they decided on this instead of working on the Project, must our resources be further strained?”
“Depends, Lieutenant. I can’t discount coercion. We’ve had too many people try to set themselves up as petty tyrants because of the situation.” Including your boss. And, Hell, me.