Executives running the last outposts of humanity are going missing.

Decades ago, certain cities lifted off from the surface of Earth, protected by fusion-powered shields. Their destination was the moon, to mine the needed resources to make the next phase of the journey.

The culture in these city-colonies has separated into two - the "royals" and the "down-belows".

Now someone is carefully reducing the royal houses - one by one. Who that someone or someones are, or how they are doing this is unknown.

But not unwatched. The question is whether the watchers can solve the mystery in time. And do something effective to stop the disappearances.

Before these city-colonies, and their hopes for rescuing humanity - die.

Excerpt:

Two lovers emerged from their secret tryst in the bowels of their city center.

It was just below where the shields ended - more like, where they had an opening for the airlocks. Otherwise, the city building looked like it always did. Concrete pillars, walls, floors. Almost endless blank doors going to storage rooms - or to lover's hiding holes.

Yellow and white stripes of pealing paint told stories of exits, entrances, places to go, how to move. Black letters overlay these with symbols to define the subdivisions.

Tonight, they only gave code to secret hideaways where royal lovers could sin in quiet, undetected for the few minutes of anonymous bliss they sought.

These two were now satisfied for their urges. Arm in arm, they hugged their way back along the passageway between these lines of blank doors. Tousled, barely clothed again, mis-buttoned clothes showing the passion of their moments alone.

At the airlock, she stopped them. "Shh - get in here, quick. They'll see us."

Shoving her lover through the thick airlock door, he hid inside so they wouldn't be seen together. She shut the door, what he thought was her knowing sacrifice. Then he heard a hiss as the seal was activated. That signaled to him something was very wrong. The only other door he could see in that small room was the one that went to the outside. Raw vaccuum of the moon.

There were no air tanks in that room, no pressure suits hanging where they should be. This was a setup. He was going to die - unless that door he came in was unlocked and opened again.

He lunged to the single window in that door and peered out.

Through the dust and scratches, he could make out her face. Smiling. Goth lips and eyes. That mole on the right side of her face, just above her goth-black, full lips. The smile showed no teeth, just a knowing look that she'd accomplished something, for some reason he would never know.

Then he saw her palm the large button and the air started being siphoned out so the outer door could open.

She barely heard his frantic beating at the door, didn't hear his screaming. Doors built to withstand zero pressure outside and livable pressure inside were too thick to pass any human sounds. Only those of beasts as they bruised and broke their hands pounding to try and save their own life. Futile. Final.

Then she turned and walked away. As the hissing continued, the air being siphoned out of that tiny room between the massive doors...

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