She spent most of the following two days in Darcy's apartment, studying the chips Karl had supplied, familiarizing herself with the LIN/C reports of four of the best operatives the Survey Service had ever produced. In spite of their impressive abilities, they had not succeeded in apprehending Hyatt's impostor, and all four had died.
Several hours both days were spent leaning on the catwalk railing overlooking hangar four, gazing down at the small spacecraft huddled in one corner under brilliant overhead lights. The technicians no longer crawled over its outer hull. Now, the hatch stood open and an occasional white-clad tech entered, laden with instruments, only to emerge empty handed minutes or even hours later.
As she watched, she had to continually remind herself that the ship was being readied for her. After ten years, she would again pilot a ship. That ship was not a massive Fleet cruiser, or even a destroyer, but it was hers, and it would again take her beyond Luna's orbit.
Late the second day, she received a call from Clayton. "You're hard to reach," he said as his image materialized on the flat screen in front of her. Behind him she recognized the wall of a pay phone booth.
"There's good reason." She told him about her ransacked apartment.
"Then they were searching for something," he said.
"So it appears. I think it might be the pendant."
Clayton nodded. "I have to talk to you. Meet me in your quarters in half an hour." He clicked off without another word.