20

The CNN production facility outside of Washington, D.C., is one of 212 studios worldwide that link via satellite to the global headquarters of Turner Broadcasting System in Atlanta.

It was 1:45 P.M. when Senator Sedgewick Sexton's limousine pulled into the parking lot. Sexton was feeling smug as he got out and strode toward the entrance. He and Gabrielle were greeted inside by a pot-bellied CNN producer who wore an effusive smile.

"Senator Sexton," the producer said. "Welcome. Great news. We just found out who the White House sent as a sparring partner for you." The producer gave a foreboding grin. "I hope you brought your game face." He motioned through the production glass out into the studio.

Sexton looked through the glass and almost fell over. Staring back at him, through the smoky haze of her cigarette, was the ugliest face in politics.

"Marjorie Tench?" Gabrielle blurted. "What the hell is she doing here?"

Sexton had no idea, but whatever the reason, her presence here was fantastic news-a clear sign that the President was in desperation mode. Why else would he send his senior adviser to the front lines? President Zach Herney was rolling out the big guns, and Sexton welcomed the opportunity.

The bigger the foe, the harder they fall.

The senator had no doubt that Tench would be a sly opponent, but gazing now at the woman, Sexton could not help but think that the President had made a serious error in judgment. Marjorie Tench was hideous looking. At the moment, she sat slouched in her chair, smoking a cigarette, her right arm moving in languid rhythm back and forth to her thin lips like a giant praying mantis feeding.

Jesus, Sexton thought, if there was ever a face that should stick to radio.

The few times Sedgewick Sexton had seen the White House senior adviser's jaundiced mug in a magazine, he could not believe he was looking at one of the most powerful faces in Washington.

"I don't like this," Gabrielle whispered.

Sexton barely heard her. The more he considered the opportunity, the more he liked it. Even more fortuitous than Tench's media-unfriendly face was Tench's reputation on one key issue: Marjorie Tench was extremely vocal that America's leadership role in the future could only be secured through technological superiority. She was an avid supporter of high-tech government R D programs, and, most important-NASA. Many believed it was Tench's behind-the-scenes pressure that kept the President positioned so staunchly behind the failing space agency.

Sexton wondered if perhaps the President was now punishing Tench for all the bad advice about supporting NASA. Is he throwing his senior adviser to the wolves?

Gabrielle Ashe gazed through the glass at Marjorie Tench and felt a growing uneasiness. This woman was smart as hell and she was an unexpected twist. Those two facts had her instincts tingling. Considering the woman's stance on NASA, the President sending her to face-off against Senator Sexton seemed ill-advised. But the President was certainly no fool. Something told Gabrielle this interview was bad news.

Gabrielle already sensed the senator salivating over his odds, which did little to curb her concern. Sexton had a habit of going overboard when he got cocky. The NASA issue had been a welcome boost in the polls, but Sexton had been pushing very hard lately, she thought. Plenty of campaigns had been lost by candidates who went for the knockout when all they needed was to finish the round.

The producer looked eager for the impending blood match. "Let's get you set up, senator."

As Sexton headed for the studio, Gabrielle caught his sleeve. "I know what you're thinking," she whispered. "But just be smart. Don't go overboard."

"Overboard? Me?" Sexton grinned.

"Remember this woman is very good at what she does."

Sexton gave her a suggestive smirk. "So am I."

21

The cavernous main chamber of NASA's habisphere would have been a strange sight anywhere on earth, but the fact that it existed on an Arctic ice shelf made it that much more difficult for Rachel Sexton to assimilate.

Staring upward into a futuristic dome crafted of white interlocking triangular pads, Rachel felt like she had entered a colossal sanatorium. The walls sloped downward to a floor of solid ice, where an army of halogen lamps stood like sentinels around the perimeter, casting stark light skyward and giving the whole chamber an ephemeral luminosity.

Snaking across the ice floor, black foam carpetrunners wound like boardwalks through a maze of portable scientific work stations. Amid the electronics, thirty or forty white-clad NASA personnel were hard at work, conferring happily and talking in excited tones. Rachel immediately recognized the electricity in the room.

It was the thrill of new discovery.

As Rachel and the administrator circled the outer edge of the dome, she noted the surprised looks of displeasure from those who recognized her. Their whispers carried clearly in the reverberant space.

Isn't that Senator Sexton's daughter?

What the hell is SHE doing here?

I can't believe the administrator is even speaking to her!

Rachel half expected to see voodoo dolls of her father dangling everywhere. The animosity around her, though, was not the only emotion in the air; Rachel also sensed a distinct smugness-as if NASA clearly knew who would be having the last laugh.

The administrator led Rachel toward a series of tables where a lone man sat at a computer work station. He was dressed in a black turtleneck, wide-wale corduroys, and heavy boat shoes, rather than the matching NASA weather gear everyone else seemed to be wearing. He had his back to them.

The administrator asked Rachel to wait as he went over and spoke to the stranger. After a moment, the man in the turtleneck gave him a congenial nod and started shutting down his computer. The administrator returned.

"Mr. Tolland will take it from here," he said. "He's another one of the President's recruits, so you two should get along fine. I'll join you later."

"Thank you."

"I assume you've heard of Michael Tolland?"

Rachel shrugged, her brain still taking in the incredible surroundings. "Name doesn't ring a bell."

The man in the turtleneck arrived, grinning. "Doesn't ring a bell?" His voice was resonant and friendly. "Best news I've heard all day. Seems I never get a chance to make a first impression anymore."

When Rachel glanced up at the newcomer, her feet froze in place. She knew the man's handsome face in an instant. Everyone in America did.

"Oh," she said, blushing as the man shook her hand. "You're that Michael Tolland."

When the President had told Rachel he had recruited top-notch civilian scientists to authenticate NASA's discovery, Rachel had imagined a group of wizened nerds with monogrammed calculators. Michael Tolland was the antithesis. One of the best known "science celebrities" in America today, Tolland hosted a weekly documentary called Amazing Seas, during which he brought viewers face-to-face with spellbinding oceanic phenomena-underwater volcanoes, ten-foot sea worms, killer tidal waves. The media hailed Tolland as a cross between Jacques Cousteau and Carl Sagan, crediting his knowledge, unpretentious enthusiasm, and lust for adventure as the formula that had rocketed Amazing Seas to the top of the ratings. Of course, most critics admitted, Tolland's rugged good looks and self-effacing charisma probably didn't hurt his popularity with the female audience.

"Mr. Tolland...," Rachel said, fumbling the words a bit. "I'm Rachel Sexton."

Tolland smiled a pleasant, crooked smile. "Hi, Rachel. Call me Mike."

Rachel found herself uncharacteristically tongue-tied. Sensory overload was setting in... the habisphere, the meteorite, the secrets, finding herself unexpectedly face-to-face with a television star. "I'm surprised to see you here," she said, attempting to recover. "When the President told me he'd recruited civilian scientists for authentication of a NASA find, I guess I expected... " She hesitated.

"Real scientists?" Tolland grinned.

Rachel flushed, mortified. "That's not what I meant."

"Don't worry about it," Tolland said. "That's all I've heard since I got here."

The administrator excused himself, promising to catch up with them later. Tolland turned now to Rachel with a curious look. "The administrator tells me your father is Senator Sexton?"

Rachel nodded. Unfortunately.

"A Sexton spy behind enemy lines?"

"Battle lines are not always drawn where you might think."

An awkward silence.

"So tell me," Rachel said quickly, "what's a world-famous oceanographer doing on a glacier with a bunch of NASA rocket scientists?"

Tolland chuckled. "Actually, some guy who looked a lot like the President asked me to do him a favor. I opened my mouth to say 'Go to hell,' but somehow I blurted, 'Yes, sir.'"

Rachel laughed for the first time all morning. "Join the club."

Although most celebrities seemed smaller in person, Rachel thought Michael Tolland appeared taller. His brown eyes were just as vigilant and passionate as they were on television, and his voice carried the same modest warmth and enthusiasm. Looking to be a weathered and athletic forty-five, Michael Tolland had coarse black hair that fell in a permanent windswept tuft across his forehead. He had a strong chin and a carefree mannerism that exuded confidence. When he'd shaken Rachel's hand, the callused roughness of his palms reminded her he was not a typical "soft" television personality but rather an accomplished seaman and hands-on researcher.

"To be honest," Tolland admitted, sounding sheepish, "I think I was recruited more for my PR value than for my scientific knowledge. The president asked me to come up and make a documentary for him."

"A documentary? About a meteorite? But you're an oceanographer."

"That's exactly what I told him! But he said he didn't know of any meteorite documentarians. He told me my involvement would help bring mainstream credibility to this find. Apparently he plans to broadcast my documentary as part of tonight's big press conference when he announces the discovery."

A celebrity spokesman. Rachel sensed the savvy political maneuverings of Zach Herney at work. NASA was often accused of talking over the public's head. Not this time. They'd pulled in the master scientific communicator, a face Americans already knew and trusted when it came to science.

Tolland pointed kitty-corner across the dome to a far wall where a press area was being set up. There was a blue carpet on the ice, television cameras, media lights, a long table with several microphones. Someone was hanging a backdrop of a huge American flag.

"That's for tonight," he explained. "The NASA administrator and some of his top scientists will be connected live via satellite to the White House so they can participate in the President's eight o'clock broadcast."

Appropriate, Rachel thought, pleased to know Zach Herney 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 of colorful angular fragments resembling a kaleidoscopic puzzle.

"Pretty," Rachel said.

"Are you kidding, it's gorgeous!" Corky talked for a minute about the high olivine content causing the green luster, and then he reached dramatically for the third and final sample, handing it to Rachel.

Rachel held the final meteorite in her palm. This one was grayish brown in color, resembling granite. It felt heavier than a terrestrial stone, but not substantially. The only indication suggesting it was anything other than a normal rock was its fusion crust-the scorched outer surface.

"This," Corky said with finality, "is called a stony meteorite. It's the most common class of meteorite. More than ninety percent of meteorites found on earth are of this category."

Rachel was surprised. She had always pictured meteorites more like the first sample-metallic, alien-looking blobs. The meteorite in her hand looked anything but extraterrestrial. Aside from the charred exterior, it looked like something she might step over on the beach.

Corky's eyes were bulging now with excitement. "The meteorite buried in the ice here at Milne is a stony meteorite-a lot like the one in your hand. Stony meteorites appear almost identical to our terrestrial igneous rocks, which makes them tough to spot. Usually a blend of lightweight silicates-feldspar, olivine, pyroxene. Nothing too exciting."

I'll say, Rachel thought, handing the sample back to him. "This one looks like a rock someone left in a fireplace and burned."

Corky burst out laughing. "One hell of a fireplace! The meanest blast furnace ever built doesn't come close to reproducing the heat a meteoroid feels when it hits our atmosphere. They get ravaged!"

Tolland gave Rachel an empathetic smile. "This is the good part."

"Picture this," Corky said, taking the meteorite sample from Rachel. "Let's imagine this little fella is the size of a house." He held the sample high over his head. "Okay... it's in space... floating across our solar system... cold-soaked from the temperature of space to minus one hundred degrees Celsius."

Tolland was chuckling to himself, apparently already having seen Corky's reenactment of the meteorite's arrival on Ellesmere Island.

Corky began lowering the sample. "Our meteorite is moving toward earth... and as it's getting very close, our gravity locks on... accelerating... accelerating... "

Rachel watched as Corky sped up the sample's trajectory, mimicking the acceleration of gravity.

"Now it's moving fast," Corky exclaimed. "Over ten miles per second-thirty-six thousand miles per hour! At 135 kilometers above the earth's surface, the meteorite begins to encounter friction with the atmosphere." Corky shook the sample violently as he lowered it toward the ice. "Falling below one hundred kilometers, it's starting to glow! Now the atmospheric density is increasing, and the friction is incredible! The air around the meteoroid is becoming incandescent as the surface material melts from the heat." Corky started making burning and sizzling sound effects. "Now it's falling past the eighty-kilometer mark, and the exterior becomes heated to over eighteen hundred degrees Celsius!"

Rachel watched in disbelief as the presidential award-winning astrophysicist shook the meteorite more fiercely, sputtering out juvenile sound effects.

"Sixty kilometers!" Corky was shouting now. "Our meteoroid encounters the atmospheric wall. The air is too dense! It violently decelerates at more than three hundred times the force of gravity!" Corky made a screeching braking sound and slowed his descent dramatically. "Instantly, the meteorite cools and stops glowing. We've hit dark flight! The meteoroid's surface hardens from its molten stage to a charred fusion crust."

Rachel heard Tolland groan as Corky knelt on the ice to perform the coup de grace-earth impact.

"Now," Corky said, "our huge meteorite is skipping across our lower atmosphere... " On his knees, he arched the meteorite toward the ground on a shallow slant. "It's headed toward the Arctic Ocean... on an oblique angle... falling... looking almost like it will skip off the ocean... falling... and... " He touched the sample to the ice. "BAM!"

Rachel jumped.

"The impact is cataclysmic! The meteorite explodes. Fragments fly off, skipping and spinning across the ocean." Corky went into slow motion now, rolling and tumbling the sample across the invisible ocean toward Rachel's feet. "One piece keeps skimming, tumbling toward Ellesmere Island... " He brought it right up to her toe. "It skips off the ocean, bouncing up onto land... " He moved it up and over the tongue of her shoe and rolled it to a stop on top of her foot near her ankle. "And finally comes to rest high on the Milne Glacier, where snow and ice quickly cover it, protecting it from atmospheric erosion." Corky stood up with a smile.

Rachel's mouth fell slack. She gave an impressed laugh. "Well, Dr. Marlinson, that explanation was exceptionally... "

"Lucid?" Corky offered.

Rachel smiled. "In a word."

Corky handed the sample back to her. "Look at the cross section."

Rachel studied the rock's interior a moment, seeing nothing.

"Tilt it into the light," Tolland prompted, his voice warm and kind. "And look closely."

Rachel brought the rock close to her eyes and tilted it against the dazzling halogens reflecting overhead. Now she saw it-tiny metallic globules glistening in the stone. Dozens of them were peppered throughout the cross section like minuscule droplets of mercury, each only about a millimeter across.

"Those little bubbles are called 'chondrules,'" Corky said. "And they occur only in meteorites."

Rachel squinted at the droplets. "Granted, I've never seen anything like this in an earth rock."

"Nor will you!" Corky declared. "Chondrules are one geologic structure we simply do not have on earth. Some chondrules are exceptionally old-perhaps madeup of the earliest materials in the universe. Other chondrules are much younger, like the ones in your hand. The chondrules in that meteorite date only about 190 million years old."

"One hundred ninety million years is young?"

"Heck, yes! In cosmological terms, that's yesterday. The point here, though, is that this sample contains chondrules-conclusive meteoric evidence."

"Okay," Rachel said. "Chondrules are conclusive. Got it."

"And finally," Corky said, heaving a sigh, "if the fusion crust and chondrules don't convince you, we astronomers have a foolproof method to confirm meteoric origin."

"Being?"

Corky gave a casual shrug. "We simply use a petrographic polarizing microscope, an x-ray fluorescence spectrometer, a neutron activation analyzer, or an induction-coupled plasma spectrometer to measure ferromagnetic ratios."

Tolland groaned. "Now he's showing off. What Corky means is that we can prove a rock is a meteorite simply by measuring its chemical content."

"Hey, ocean boy!" Corky chided. "Let's leave the science to the scientists, shall we?" He immediately turned back to Rachel. "In earth rocks, the mineral nickel occurs in either extremely high percentages or extremely low; nothing in the middle. In meteorites, though, the nickel content falls within a midrange set of values. Therefore, if we analyze a sample and find the nickel content reflects a midrange value, we can guarantee beyond the shadow of a doubt that the sample is a meteorite."

Rachel felt exasperated. "Okay, gentlemen, fusion crusts, chondrules, midrange nickel contents, all of which prove it's from space. I get the picture." She laid the sample back on Corky's table. "But why am I here?"

Corky heaved a portentous sigh. "You want to see a sample of the meteorite NASA found in the ice underneath us?"

Before I die here, please.

This time Corky reached in his breast pocket and produced a small, disk-shaped piece of stone. The slice of rock was shaped like an audio CD, about half an inch thick, and appeared to be similar in composition to the stony meteorite she had just seen.

"This is a slice of a core sample that we drilled yesterday." Corky handed the disk to Rachel.

The appearance certainly was not earth-shattering. It was an orangish-white, heavy rock. Part of the rim was charred and black, apparently a segment of the meteorite's outer skin. "I see the fusion crust," she said.

Corky nodded. "Yeah, this sample was taken from near the outside of the meteorite, so it still has some crust on it."

Rachel tilted the disk in the light and spotted the tiny metallic globules. "And I see the chondrules."

"Good," Corky said, his voice tense with excitement. "And I can tell you from having run this thing through a petrographic polarizing microscope that its nickel content is midrange-nothing like a terrestrial rock. Congratulations, you've now successfully confirmed the rock in your hand came from space."

Rachel looked up, confused. "Dr. Marlinson, it's a meteorite. It's supposed to come from space. Am I missing something here?"

Corky and Tolland exchanged knowing looks. Tolland put a hand on Rachel's shoulder and whispered, "Flip it over."

Rachel turned the disk over so she could see the other side. It took only an instant for her brain to process what she was looking at.

Then the truth hit her like a truck.

Impossible! she gasped, and yet as she stared at the rock she realized her definition of "impossible" had just changed forever. Embedded in the stone was a form that in an earth specimen might be considered commonplace, and yet in a meteorite was utterly inconceivable.

"It's... " Rachel stammered, almost unable to speak the word. "It's... a bug! This meteorite contains the fossil of a bug!"

Both Tolland and Corky were beaming. "Welcome aboard," Corky said.

The torrent of emotions that gripped Rachel left her momentarily mute, and yet even in her bewilderment, she could clearly see that this fossil, beyond question, had once been a living biological organism. The petrified impression was about three inches long and looked to be the underside of some kind of huge beetle or crawling insect. Seven pairs of hinged legs were clustered beneath a protective outer shell, which seemed to be segmented in plates like that of an armadillo.

Rachel felt dizzy. "An insect from space... "

"It's an isopod," Corky said. "Insects have three pairs of legs, not seven."

Rachel did not even hear him. Her head was spinning as she studied the fossil before her.

"You can clearly see," Corky said, "that the dorsal shell is segmented in plates like a terrestrial pill bug, and yet the two prominent tail-like appendages differentiate it as something closer to a louse."

Rachel's mind had already tuned Corky out. The classification of the species was totally irrelevant. The puzzle pieces now came crashing into place-the President's secrecy, the NASA excitement...

There is a fossil in this meteorite! Not just a speck of bacteria or microbes, but an advanced life-form! Proof of life elsewhere in the universe!

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