When he’d arrived in his office that morning, the day after the disastrous staff meeting, he was relieved to find no pink slip on his desk. All day he had worked like crazy on the SHARAD data and now it was done. And very well done, he had to say so himself: the charts and everything neatly organized, bound, pouched, and slipcased, the images crisp and clear, cleaned of noise, and digitally processed.There had been no nasty visit from Derkweiler, no warning memo or call. He hadn’t even seen the man. He had made a mistake with the periodicity but he was sure he’d made no mistake with the gamma ray data. It was real, he knew it was real, and just maybe Chaudry would think about it and realize it was worth investigating.Mark Corso tucked the package under his arm, swallowed hard, and set off down the hall toward Derkweiler’s office. A quick knock, a “come in,” and he eased open the door with trepidation. There was Derkweiler, sitting behind his desk, incipient sweat moons under his arms.
