Chapter 1

I sighed as I slumped down into the extremely weathered wooden chair by my desk. My shared office, deep in the heart of the NASA building complex, was cramped on a normal basis, but was positively impassable today because of the overly large, dust-choked chalkboard blocking the single narrow path to the exit. Though these pale numbers and symbols are essentially the only product of my young life thus far, they didn’t seem enough. Knowing that I am the only American working on these formulas and ideas was a daunting enough thought, but realizing that there could be entire teams of Russian scientists, much older and more knowledgeable than me, working on the same things was very draining, physically and emotionally. Every time I realized that no matter how many hours I devoted to this project, I would never catch up to the hours the Russians could be spending on the same things, I wanted to give in.

I shakily stood, gripping my coffee mug in one hand and reaching for the overworked eraser on my desk with the other. I heard footsteps approaching my office and my entire body tensed, fearing a surprise visitor from whom I would be unable to hide my secret work. When the shoes became visible beneath the chalkboard, however, I was able to relax somewhat. My office-mate was the only man in this organization who wore shoes like that, and he would never question my calculations. “Hello, Alex,” I called softly.

“Good afternoon, Luna,” he responded. His head appeared briefly around the edge of the board before large hands gripped the edge and started to slide it out of the doorway. Within a moment, a camera flash had me dazzled and half-blind, searching for my chair.

“Alex,” I grumbled, half-jokingly, half-warningly. “You may be a brilliant photographer, but I do need my eyes if I’m going to make it through this maze to the company meeting this afternoon.” Almost entirely to myself, I continued, “I understand the need for secrecy in a place named the ‘National Academy for the Spy Association,’ but certainly the employees need to be able to find their way around.”

Alex laughed. “Ah, but don’t you mean the ‘National Aeronautics and Space Administration’? That is our official cover now, you must recall.”

“As the man who made the so-called ‘moon landing’ happen in a studio down the hall, you of all people should know that what we do here has nothing to do with the moon and everything to do with spying on people actually working to get to the moon. The Spy Association needs new recruits to cover everything, and that is our priority.”

“I know, I know, but you must admit, when using a space research organization as a cover, someone really ought to at least consider working on the cover project to make it seem more legitimate.”

Though I privately agreed, as the smudged chalkboard would attest, I, like all other NASA employees, held to the official decision. “Our primary purpose is to provide new recruits the training they need to serve the Spy Association. All other goals are secondary.”