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conclusively meteoritelike, but rather that it is conclusively non-earth-like."

Rachel shook her head. "Sorry, but in my business that's the kind of faulty logic that gets people killed. Saying a rock is non-earth-like doesn't prove it's a meteorite. It simply proves that it's not like anything we've ever seen on earth."

"What the hell's the difference!"

"Nothing," Rachel said. "If you've seen every rock on earth."

Corky fell silent a moment. "Okay," he finally said, "ignore the nickel content if it makes you nervous. We still have a flawless fusion crust and chondrules."

"Sure," Rachel said, sounding unimpressed. "Two out of three ain't bad."

83

The structure housing the NASA central headquarters was a mammoth glass rectangle located at 300 E Street in Washington, D.C. The building was spidered with over two hundred miles of data cabling and thousands of tons of computer processors. It was home to 1,134 civil servants who oversee NASA's $15 billion annual budget and the daily operations of the twelve NASA bases nationwide.

Despite the late hour, Gabrielle was not at all surprised to see the building's foyer filling with people, an apparent convergence of excited media crews and even more excited NASA personnel. Gabrielle hurried inside. The entryway resembled a museum, dominated dramatically by full-size replicas of famous mission capsules and satellites suspended overhead. Television crews were staking claims on the expansive marble floor, seizing wide-eyed NASA employees who came through the door.

Gabrielle scanned the crowd, but did not see anyone who looked like PODS mission director Chris Harper. Half the people in the lobby had press passes and half had NASA photo IDs around their necks. Gabrielle had neither. She spotted a young woman with a NASA ID and hurried over to her.

"Hi. I'm looking for Chris Harper?"

The woman eyed Gabrielle strangely, as if she recognized her from somewhere and couldn't quite place it. "I saw Dr. Harper go through a while ago. I think he headed upstairs. Do I know you?"

"I don't think so," Gabrielle said, turning away. "How do I get upstairs?"

"Do you work for NASA?"

"No, I don't."

"Then you can't get upstairs."

"Oh. Is there a phone I might use to-"

"Hey," the woman said, looking suddenly angry. "I know who you are. I've seen you on television with Senator Sexton. I can't believe you would have the nerve-"

Gabrielle was already gone, disappearing into the crowd. Behind her, she could hear the woman angrily telling others Gabrielle was here.

Terrific. Two seconds through the door, and I'm already on the Most Wanted List.

Gabrielle kept her head down as she hurried to the far side of the lobby. A building directory was mounted on the wall. She scanned the listings, looking for Chris Harper. Nothing. The directory showed no names at all. It was arranged by department.

PODS? she wondered, scanning the list for anything that had to do with the Polar Orbiting Density Scanner. She saw nothing. She was afraid to glance over her shoulder, half expecting to see a crew of angry NASA employees coming to stone her. All she saw on the list that looked even remotely promising was on the fourth floor:

EARTH SCIENCE ENTERPRISE, PHASE II
Earth Observing System (EOS)

Keeping her head turned away from the crowd, Gabrielle made her way toward an alcove that housed a bank of elevators and a water fountain. She searched for the elevator call buttons, but saw only slits. Damn. The elevators were security controlled-key card ID access for employees only.

A group of young men came hurrying toward the elevators, talking exuberantly. They wore NASA photo IDs around their necks. Gabrielle quickly bent over the fountain, watching behind her. A pimple-faced man inserted his ID into the slot and opened the elevator. He was laughing, shaking his head in amazement.

"The guys in SETI must be going nuts!" he said as everyone boarded the elevator. "Their horn carts traced drift fields under two hundred milliJanskys for twenty years, and the physical proof was buried in the ice here on earth the whole time!"

The elevator doors closed, and the men disappeared.

Gabrielle stood up, wiping her mouth, wondering what to do. She looked around for an interoffice phone. Nothing. She wondered if she could somehow steal a key card, but something told her that was probably unwise. Whatever she did, she knew she had to do it fast. She could now see the woman she'd first spoken to out in the lobby, moving through the crowd with a NASA security officer.

A trim, bald man came around the corner, hustling toward the elevators. Gabrielle again bent over the fountain.