Blakers found his old friend still trying to contact ground control. "Armstrong, do you still have the test interface you developed for the launching platforms?"
The scientist glanced up from his work. "Er, yes. I was playing with it on my laptop just before the radio went out."
"Before the system goes online, can you configure the platforms to work with your interface?"
"I think so... yes. But why would you want me to do that?"
"Why do you think, Armstrong? We don't know who will be in charge when we land. The feminist coup might have already happened, damn it."
"Coup, sir?" Armstrong looked concerned.
"Yes, see! You're worried about it too, I know. That's why we need to retain control of the nukes, just for now. Once we get down, and see that the right people are in charge, we can turn things over to them. For now, it would be irresponsible to switch on the system as is when who knows what is in control of the government."
"So we don't turn on the system until we land."
"The system has to be activated on site," Blakers explained. "We send a radio signal, but that only initiates preactivation. Then the control software is uploaded, and _then_ one of us has to actually flip a switch on one of the platforms to get the whole thing up and running, and that switch has to be flipped physically, and only during the preactivation phase."
"So the government can send up another crew to flip the switch and activate the weapons. Why do we have to do it now?"
"Armstrong, for a scientific genius, you can be a dense bastard sometimes. If the worst has happened, or happens shortly in the future, there won't be anyone around to send up another crew. And don't forget all the flyboys are probably baby fly _girls_ now, and maybe under the domination of the feminists. We're the only ones who can do this. Please, work with me on this."
"The issue as I see it is this, Jonathan... if we configure the launching platforms to work with the test interface, then someone could bring about Armageddon from my laptop, all on his own, just by pressing a few keys. I'm having a hard time fathoming that kind of responsibility, and what if -- Christ! -- the laptop were to fall into the wrong hands? What then?"
Blakers rubbed his bald head thoughtfully. "That would be bad, I'll admit, but the alternative strikes me as worse."
"What could be worse than the end of the world?" Armstrong's wild arm gyrations were on the verge of tipping him off balance and into the bulkhead, not that difficult under the condition of weightlessness.
"Becoming a pathetic little girl would be worse," Blakers, gazing past his friend's shoulder, muttered under his breath. "Being under the control of a bunch of manhating lesbians would be pretty bad, too."
"So, returning to a world of women, we give ourselves the nuclear advantage?"
Piercing blue eyes suddenly fixed on the scientist. "Oh, Armstrong. It's not like just anyone could launch the nukes, anyway. They'd need a code, and a transmitter powerful enough to reach the main weapons platform. Doesn't that make your decision easier?"
"I'm not used to making decisions like this," he said to Blakers. "I'm a scientist, and scientists should never have to hold the fate of the world in their hands."
"They do in all the movies," the commander snorted.
"And they're usually reluctant about it..." Armstrong trailed off, flexing and unflexing his fists across his chest, as if too nervous to even reach for his beard. Finally, just as Luke came back from finalizing the platform positioning, Armstrong looked up.
"I've decided," the scientist said. Then, his face grave, he said...