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didn't plan to cut NASA out of the announcement entirely.

"So," Rachel said with a sigh, "is someone finally going to tell me what's so special about this meteorite?"

Tolland arched his eyebrows and gave her a mysterious grin. "Actually, what's so special about this meteorite is best seen, not explained." He motioned for Rachel to follow him toward the neighboring work area. "The guy stationed over here has plenty of samples he can show you."

"Samples? You actually have samples of the meteorite?"

"Absolutely. We've drilled quite a few. In fact, it was the initial core samples that alerted NASA to the importance of the find."

Unsure of what to expect, Rachel followed Tolland into the work area. It appeared deserted. A cup of coffee sat on a desk scattered with rock samples, calipers, and other diagnostic gear. The coffee was steaming.

"Marlinson!" Tolland yelled, looking around. No answer. He gave a frustrated sigh and turned to Rachel. "He probably got lost trying to find cream for his coffee. I'm telling you, I went to Princeton postgrad with this guy, and he used to get lost in his own dorm. Now he's a National Medal of Science recipient in astrophysics. Go figure."

Rachel did a double take. "Marlinson? You don't by any chance mean the famous Corky Marlinson, do you?"

Tolland laughed. "One and the same."

Rachel was stunned. "Corky Marlinson is here?" Marlinson's ideas on gravitational fields were legendary among NRO satellite engineers. "Marlinson is one of the President's civilian recruits?"

"Yeah, one of the real scientists."

Real is right, Rachel thought. Corky Marlinson was as brilliant and respected as they came.

"The incredible paradox about Corky," Tolland said, "is that he can quote you the distance to Alpha Centauri in millimeters, but he can't tie his own necktie."

"I wear clip-ons!" a nasal, good-natured voice barked nearby. "Efficiency over style, Mike. You Hollywood types don't understand that!"

Rachel and Tolland turned to the man now emerging from behind a large stack of electronic gear. He was squat and rotund, resembling a pug dog with bubble eyes and a thinning, comb-over haircut. When the man saw Tolland standing with Rachel, he stopped in his tracks.

"Jesus Christ, Mike! We're at the friggin' North Pole and you still manage to meet gorgeous women. I knew I should have gone into television!"

Michael Tolland was visibly embarrassed. "Ms. Sexton, please excuse Dr. Marlinson. What he lacks in tact, he more than makes up for in random bits of totally useless knowledge about our universe."

Corky approached. "A true pleasure, ma'am. I didn't catch your name."

"Rachel," she said. "Rachel Sexton."

"Sexton?" Corky let out a playful gasp. "No relation to that shortsighted, depraved senator, I hope!"

Tolland winced. "Actually, Corky, Senator Sexton is Rachel's father."

Corky stopped laughing and slumped. "You know, Mike, it's really no wonder I've never had any luck with the ladies."

22

Prize-winning astrophysicist Corky Marlinson ushered Rachel and Tolland into his work area and began sifting through his tools and rock samples. The man moved like a tightly wound spring about to explode.

"All right," he said, quivering excitedly, "Ms. Sexton, you're about to get the Corky Marlinson thirty-second meteorite primer."

Tolland gave Rachel a be-patient wink. "Bear with him. The man really wanted to be an actor."

"Yeah, and Mike wanted to be a respected scientist." Corky rooted around in a shoebox and produced three small rock samples and aligned them on his desk. "These are the three main classes of meteorites in the world."

Rachel looked at the three samples. All appeared as awkward spheroids about the size of golf balls. Each had been sliced in half to reveal its cross section.

"All meteorites," Corky said, "consist of varying amounts of nickel-iron alloys, silicates, and sulfides. We classify them on the basis of their metal-to-silicate ratios."

Rachel already had the feeling Corky Marlinson's meteorite "primer" was going to be more than thirty seconds.

"This first sample here," Corky said, pointing to a shiny, jet-black stone, "is an iron-core meteorite. Very heavy. This little guy landed in Antarctica a few years back."

Rachel studied the meteorite. It most certainly looked otherworldly-a blob of heavy grayish iron whose outer crust was burned and blackened.

"That charred outer layer is called a fusion crust," Corky said. "It's the result of extreme heating as the meteor falls through our atmosphere. All meteorites exhibit that charring." Corky moved quickly to the next sample. "This next one is what we call a stony-iron meteorite."

Rachel studied the sample, noting that it too was charred on the outside. This sample, however, had a light-greenish tint, and the cross section looked like a collage