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"The reporters must be screaming like wounded vultures," said Oates, "demanding to know why the shuttle made an unscheduled arrival so far off course."
"That goes without saying."
"When do you plan to make the announcement?" asked Brogan.
"In two days," replied the President. "We need time to sort out the immense implications and debrief Steinmetz and his people before we throw them to the news media."
"If we delay any longer," added Fawcett, "someone in the White House press corps is bound to hit on a leak."
"Where are the moon colonists now?"
"Undergoing tests at the Kennedy Space Center medical facility," answered Fawcett. "They were flown out of Key West along with Jurgens' crew shortly after the Gettysburg touched down."
Brogan looked at Oates. "Any word from the Kremlin?"
"Only silence so far."
"Be interesting to see how they react to having their nationals shot down for a change."
"Antonov is a wily old bear," said the President. "He'll reject a propaganda blitz accusing us of murdering his cosmonauts in favor of secret talks where he'll demand restitution in the form of shared scientific data."
"Will you give it to him?"
"The President is morally bound to comply," said Oates.
Brogan looked appalled, and so did Fawcett.
"This is not a political matter," Brogan said in a low voice. "There is nothing in the book that says we have to throw away secrets vital to our national defense."
"We're cast as the villains this time around, not the Russians," protested Oates. "We're within inches of a SALT IV agreement to halt all future nuclear missile placement. If the President ignored Antonov's claims, the Soviet negotiators would take one of their famous walks only hours before signing the treaty."
"You may be right," said Fawcett. "But everyone connected with the Jersey Colony didn't struggle for two decades just to give it all away to the Kremlin."
The President had followed this exchange without interrupting. Now he held up a hand. "Gentlemen, I am not about to sell out the store. But there is an enormous wealth of information we can share with the Russians and the rest of the world in the interests of humanity. Medical findings, geological and astronomical data must be freely passed around. However, you may rest easy. I'm not about to compromise our space and defense programs. That area will remain firmly in our hands. Do I make myself clear?"
Silence descended on the dining compartment as the steward delivered three steaming plates of eggs, ham, and hotcakes. He refilled the coffee cups. As soon as he returned to the galley, the President sighed deeply and looked at the table in front of Brogan.
"You're not eating, Martin?"
"I usually skip breakfast. Lunch is my big meal."
"You don't know what you're missing. These hotcakes are light as a feather."
"No, thanks. I'll just stick with coffee."
"While the rest of us dig in, why don't you brief us on the Cayo Santa Maria operation."
Brogan took a sip from his cup, opened the file, and condensed the contents in a few concise statements. "A special combat team under the command of Colonel Ramon Kleist and led by Major Angelo Quintana landed on the island at 0200 hours this morning. By 0430 the Soviet radio jamming and listening facility, including its antenna, was destroyed and all personnel terminated. The timing was most fortunate, as the final radio transmission warned off the Gettysburg only minutes before it would have landed on Cuban soil."
"Who gave the warning?" interrupted Fawcett.
Brogan stared across the table and smiled. "He gave his name as Dirk Pitt."
"My God, the man is everywhere," the President exclaimed.
"Jessie LeBaron and two of Admiral Sandecker's NUMA people were rescued," Brogan continued.
"Raymond LeBaron was killed."
