The time is the distant future, where by far the most precious commodity in the galaxy is water. The last surviving water planet was somehow removed to the unreachable centre of the galaxy at the end of the galactic trade wars. The galaxy is ruled by an evil emperor (John Carradine) presiding over a trade oligarchy that controls all mining and sale of ice from asteroids and comets.

What if Apollo 11 never actually made it? What if, in reality, Stanley Kubrick secretly shot the famous images of the moon landing in a studio, working for the US administration? This is the premise of a totally plausible conspiracy theory that takes us to swinging sixties London, where a stubborn CIA agent will never find Kubrick but is forced to team up with a lousy manager of a seedy rock band to develop the biggest con of all time.