Norman got up, and she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “My room’s next to yours, I heard you arrive. When did you get in?”

“An hour ago. I think I’m still in shock,” Norman said. “Do you believe all this? Do you think it’s real?”

“I think that’s real.” She pointed to the blue manual next to his computer.

Norman picked it up: Regulations Governing Personnel Conduct During Classified Military Operations. He thumbed through pages of dense legal text.

“It basically says,” Beth said, “that you keep your mouth shut or you spend a long time in military prison. And there’s no calls in or out. Yes, Norman, I think it must be real.”

“There’s a spacecraft down there?”

“There’s something down there. It’s pretty exciting.” She began to speak more rapidly. “Why, for biology alone, the possibilities are staggering-everything we know about life comes from studying life on our own planet. But, in a sense, all life on our planet is the same. Every living creature, from algae to human beings, is basically built on the same plan, from the same DNA. Now we may have a chance to contact life that is entirely different, different in every way. It’s exciting, all right.”

Norman nodded. He was thinking of something else. “What did you say about no calls in or out? I promised to call Ellen.”

“Well, I tried to call my daughter and they told me the mainland com links are out. If you can believe that. The Navy’s got more satellites than admirals, but they swear there’s no available line to call out. Barnes said he’d approve a cable. That’s it.”

“How old is Jennifer now?” Norman asked, pleased to pull the name from his memory. And what was her husband’s name? He was a physicist, Norman remembered, something like that. Sandy blond man. Had a beard. Wore bow ties.