The Tsuchi, a corvette assigned to the Bellaire, had been decommissioned and scrapped after Io. A year later, it appeared in a small-group action report near Europa. The supply ship Apalala had been retired from service, and then seven months later, picked up a shipment headed to Ganymede. A load of medical supplies lost to accident appeared briefly on a loading schedule bound for Ceres and then disappeared again. Weapons lost in the fighting around what was now Medina Station appeared in an audit at Hecate Base once and not again.

Someone, Bobbie reasoned, had gone back through the records and doctored the old reports, forging the deaths of ships and then erasing them from the later records, or trying to. She’d found half a dozen hiccups in the data, but any ships that had been successfully erased, she wouldn’t see. That meant someone had to be involved high enough up the naval chain of command that they had access to the files.

There was protocol, of course, that laid out who was supposed to have access to the records, but she’d been in the process of looking into how that actually played out in practice when Alex had dropped her a line and suggested dinner.

“If you’re up for it,” Bobbie said, “that’s what I’d want you to look at. Just who could have changed the information. Then I can start looking at them.”

“Keep going down the road you were already on,” Alex said.

“Only with maybe some friends in the Navy.”

“That’s one way we can go. It ain’t the only one, though.”

Bobbie sat forward, caught her breath, and leaned back. “What else are you thinking?”

“Someone hired the gentlemen who messed us up. Seems like findin’ out what we can about them might also be worth our time.”

Bobbie grinned. “That was the part I was planning to do.”

“Well, all right, then,” Alex said, and a man stepped into the doorway. He was huge. His shoulders brushed the doorframe on both sides, and his face was thick and heavy with a distress that could have been fear or anger. The bouquet of daffodils in his hand seemed tiny, and would until they were in a vase.

“Hey,” he said. “I was just…”

“Come in,” Bobbie said. “Alex, this is my brother Ben. Benji, this is Alex Kamal.”

“Good to meet you,” the massive man said, enfolding Alex’s hand in his grip and shaking gently. “Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

“Betcha?” Alex said.

The bed creaked as Bobbie’s brother sat at its foot. He looked sheepishly at his sister. Now that she’d said the words, Alex could see the resemblance in them. Bobbie wore the look better.

“The doctor says you’re doing well,” Ben said. “David wanted me to tell you he’s thinking of you.”