Moore leaned forward, his face in his hands. He took several deep breaths and tried for calm. “Contact Lunar Antipodal. Find out if the Astra ever showed up. For that matter, find out if they even expect it.”

Bentley scrambled to comply, and Moore scanned down the report again. A transcript of a conversation between Dr. Charles Kemp and someone who purported to be Ivan Pritchard.

Shit and Hell.

* * *

The officers seated around the table looked nervous. And well they should. Moore hadn’t been forthcoming with details in his phone calls, but enough came through in his tone to make it clear that they were facing a major snafu, and attendance was not optional.

“Pritchard is still alive.” Moore saw no reason to ease into it. Better to get the ball rolling as quickly as possible.

“How?” said Castillo. “You’re not saying he survived the nuke?”

Moore shook his head and nodded to Bentley. The lieutenant stepped forward and passed out a set of stapled sheets to each person. Moore waited until he left the room before continuing the discussion.

“This is a surveillance report. A transcript of a conversation on Dr. Kemp’s phone. It says it all, I think.”

Admiral Richards frowned at him. “You had a tap on the doctor’s phone? Was that authorized?”

“Oh, don’t go all law-and-order on me, Richards. We all knew this would be a messy operation. The doctor had a history of tête-à-têtes with Pritchard. A tap on his phone was the obvious next step. We’ve put one on Robinson’s phone as well.”

Richards rubbed her forehead. “Damn, I wish I could un-know this. I think this puts us squarely over the line, Moore.”

“Whereas setting off a nuke in near-Earth space didn’t? Really, Admiral?”

Castillo interjected, “Let’s deal with the immediate problem, please. The threat is still extant. Possibly worse, now, since Pritchard is in the wind.”

“Should we arrest Kemp?” Gerrard asked.

“For what, exactly, Commodore?”

Gerrard frowned at Moore. “Conspiracy? Accessory after the fact?”

“Conspiracy to escape an illegal assassination attempt? Accessory to a successful escape from same? I don’t see a prosecutor wanting to take on that particular challenge.” Moore rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger for a moment. “We could maybe work up something to do with theft of a space ship, but we’d need Jennings to swear out a complaint. I don’t imagine that working out for us, either.”

“We are so much in the shit…” Gerrard muttered.

Moore chose to ignore him. If the man didn’t get it together, though, steps would have to be taken.

At that moment, Lt. Bentley came in, waving some paper. “Response from Lunar Antipodal. No flight plan filed, no berth reserved, no contact, no arrival. They totally didn’t know what we were talking about.”