The Cassandra Project by Jack McDevitt

out, they’re going to hang you out to dry.” “Me? I’m the most loyal employee they’ve got.”
    “You’re the most
visible
employee they’ve got.”
    “Look,” said Jerry, “whatever happened or failed to happen, I’m sure it was decidedly minor. Probably just a lousy turn of phrase when you come right down to it.” There was a long, uncomfortable pause.
    “But?” said Bucky. “I sense an unspoken ‘but’ at the end of that sentence.” “But this is my organization and my country, and while I may be as curious as you, if they want it kept secret, I’m ethically compelled to keep it secret.” “If they’re lying to the American public, of which you were a member last time I looked,” said Bucky, “I think you’re ethically compelled to find it and bring it out in the open, whatever
it
is.” Jerry shook his head. “We’re on opposite sides on this one, Bucky. My best advice to you is to leave it alone.” “And my best advice to you is that the last person you ever want to lie to is—” “You?” interrupted Jerry.
    “Yourself,” said Bucky, breaking the connection. He turned to face Gloria and Brent. “He’ll come over when the time is right.” “If someone lets the cat out of the bag, who cares if he comes over?” said Brent. “And if they don’t, he won’t.” “He’s a moral man,” replied Bucky. “They’re few and far between in this business, but they’re always predictable. The bigger the secret, the more he’s going to feel betrayed and ill-used.” “Let’s see if it
is
a big secret,” said Gloria.
    Bucky grimaced. “You haven’t been listening to me. It’s big.” “How big?”
    “You know what I think?” said Bucky. “I think some member of Myshko’s team died when they were orbiting the Moon and NASA kept it quiet until they could find out what caused it. Remember, we were racing against the Russians, and that would have been a huge blow to our prestige.” “You really think so?” asked Brent.
    “It makes sense. Obviously, it was either from natural causes or some problem they could pinpoint and fix, because the other Apollo missions all took off on schedule. But by then, they’d lied for a couple of months about the death, and they didn’t want the publicity that would accrue if it came out.” “Why don’t you call the White House and ask?” asked Brent. “I know you’re on speaking terms with the president.” “All billionaires and religious leaders are always on speaking terms with any president,” said Bucky. “But what can I do? Get him on Skype or the vidphone and ask him why he’s lying to the American public? Besides, he may not even know about this. As far as I can tell, it’s pretty well confined to NASA.” “If it’s anything affecting future Moon flights, he must know about it, or why aren’t we going back?” asked Gloria. “Hell, they
all
knew about it—Carter, Reagan, Clinton, the Bushes, Obama, all of them. They all gave lip service to the space program, then did everything they could to emasculate it.” Bucky shook his head. “You’re looking at it the wrong way. They were politicians, not scientists—even Carter. The only thing the Moon meant to them was the prestige of reaching it before Russia did. Well, we reached it—and then the only thing it meant to them was billions of dollars that they’d rather spend on their own programs. They were probably thrilled when private industry started doing suborbital flights a decade ago. It meant the last pressure was off them to do it. NASA’s moribund; it just doesn’t know it yet.” “Then why are
we
going into space?” asked Brent.
    “Because we don’t give any more of a damn about science than
they
did. They went for prestige; we’re going for profit.” “From the Moon?” asked Brent, frowning.
    “From the Moon, and the asteroids, and the moons of Jupiter and Saturn. It won’t happen this year, or this decade, but we can see the money in orbit up