Teague felt like a new man after a good night’s sleep and a shower, but his duties still weighed on him. He had been fielding calls from Earth—both from General Steen and his superiors as well as reporters for all the major newsfeeds—for his entire shift. Couple that with the fact that he still wasn’t sure what day it was, at least on the Moon, and he was ready for a drink.

He met pilot Rick Casey in a little hole-in-the-wall spot on the outskirts of the mall aptly named Buzz’s. Rick had taken over a corner booth and was well on his way to getting plastered by the time Teague arrived.

“Hey, you’re late. I had to start without you.”

Teague squeezed into the booth opposite him and dialed his order on the table. “I hope you’re not flying for a while.”

“I got the next twelve hours off. What about you?”

“I’m back on in ten, so go easy on me.”

Rick snickered. "And the fact that you've got a few years on me makes no difference?"

Teague took a glass of amber liquid from the server and sneered. "As a great philosopher once opined, it's not the years, it's the mileage."

They tipped their glasses toward one another and Teague took a testing sip. “Hey, I saw Lt. Romeo’s picture aboard your bird. How long have you two been an item?”

Rick shrugged. “A few months.”

“You always have a photo plastered to your controls, but the person in it changes. Last time I saw you it was a statuesque blond. Whatever happened to her?”

“We wanted different things. I wanted to go to the Moon, and she wanted to do disgusting things to my cousin.”

“Ouch. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not. My cousin was an asshole. Serves her right. What about you and the good doctor? Are you back together?

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“Oh god no,” said Teague. “We’ve finally reached the point where we can share a shuttle without killing each other. Wouldn’t want to ruin that.”

Rick raised his glass for a toast. “Here’s to stomaching each other.”

Teague laughed, and they clinked their glasses together.

“So how’s the debris recovery efforts going?” Teague asked when they’d drained their glasses and set them on the table. "You've been ferrying people out there."

“As well as can be expected,” said Rick. “There wasn’t much to recover. I think they’ve retrieved all the material they’re going to. They’ve set up in one of the repair bays.”

“Yeah. Romeo is keeping me apprised. She’s really good. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”

Rick smiled. “To Natalia,” he said, and they toasted again.

“So what do you think happened?” Teague asked after a long moment.

“To Donovan? How should I know? Above my pay grade. I think he either pissed off the wrong person, and that’s a long list, or he knew something someone didn’t want Congress and the Joint Chiefs to know.”

Teague nodded. “That’s what I’m afraid of. No one I’ve talked to liked the guy, and more than a few hated him enough to blow him up. They just lack the technical know-how. Now I’ve got a huge mess to clean up, and I don’t know where to start shoveling.”

“I wish I knew something,” said Rick. “But I don’t. I’m just a lowly jump pilot, content with my lot. But I’m on your side. You know that.”

Teague attempted a grin. “I know. And I appreciate that. I just wish I could be certain of everyone’s allegiances, and just what they’re beholden to if it’s not this base. Something strange is going on, and I need to get to the bottom of it before anything else blows up. Preferably with me inside of it.”

“You’ll figure it out,” said Rick. “General Steen is a gruff old buzzard, but he knows his people. If he thought you couldn’t handle it he would have sent someone else.”

Teague nodded into his glass, pondering the amber depths and wondering if he was indeed that person.

“Well, this jump pilot is bushed. I’m gonna hit the sack. Got at least half a dozen more flights out to the crash site lined up for tomorrow.”

“Good night,” said Teague.

Teague considered turning in as well he wasn’t sleepy. He wanted to blame it on the time disparity between Earth and its satellite, but that was only part of the problem. The crux of it was this Donovan situation, as he had come to label it in his head. Whatever Donovan had been involved with didn’t die with him. He wasn’t its mastermind, only a cog in some greater, sinister machine. A machine that had him killed. And he had to find out what it was for all their sakes.

Harrison Teague stayed at the bar staring into his glass for a very long time.