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a gray, nondescript building exactly like a hundred others she had already seen in the city.
    "That is better," she said.
    "What?"
    "It restores my faith in the universality of government agencies," she said. This time it was his turn to be mystified. They entered the building by way of a gray foyer as anonymous as the exterior. The atmosphere inside was that of faceless civil service everywhere. Its function might as easily have been finance as space exploration.
    The woman behind the reception desk looked up nonchalantly as Sam stepped up with an uncharacteristically ingratiating smile.
    "Pardon me, ma'am, but might I borrow a NASA phone directory for a minute? I need to look up a name." Wordlessly, she handed him the directory. He glanced through the organizational pages until he spotted the Associate Administrator for Space Science and noted the name and room number. He returned the directory. "Is this Federal Office Building 10?"
    "That's right," the woman said, "FOB 10."
    "Thank you," he said, his smile undaunted by her bored monotone. He took Laine lightly by an arm and guided her to an elevator. "We're going to call on the Associate Administrator for Space Science," he told her.
    She was not familiar with official ranks in the U.S. government, but that sounded entirely too lofty a title to accept a casual, unannounced visit from a grunt. "Surely," she said, "this calls for an appointment."
    "I guess so. But, it would probably take several weeks while his secretary tried to find five vacant minutes on his calendar. He may not be in now, anyway, not that it matters. Our business isn't with him just now. It's with his office."
    "I don't understand, but lead on." She was be ginning to enjoy this.
    He favored her with another of his rare, tight smiles, quite different from the fake smile he had used on the receptionist. "Just stand back and watch a pro operate," he told her.
    The office of the Associate Administrator for Space Science was only one floor up from street level, at the end of a hallway. As they walked into the pleasantly furnished anteroom, an alert, conservatively-dressed woman looked them over swiftly and asked pleasantly, "What may I do for you?"
    "This is Dr. Tammsalu, and I'm Sam Taggart from the State Department. We're here on a matter in of some importance. We'd like to see the Associate Administrator for Space Science, please."
    The woman made a show of looking through her desk calendar. "Dr., ah, Tammsalu, was it? And Mr. Taggart? I'm sorry, I don't see any appointment here."
    "Actually," Sam said, "Doctor Tammsalu has just arrived from overseas and the people over at State thought it important that she speak with the Administrator. Didn't anybody contact you?"
    "From the State Department? I'm afraid not. In any case, the Associate Administrator is on the Hill today, all day, I'm afraid. His appointment schedule is full until next week. Would you care to make an appointment for next week? Or, could anyone else help you?"
    "That's a pity," Sam said. "We truly are pressed for time. We'll talk to his deputy, or whoever else is in charge of the study of comets."
    "Well, the Deputy Associate Administrator is currently overseas but let me see what I can do for you." She reached for her phone and began punching buttons. She spoke inaudibly to someone, then hung up and placed another call. This time she was smiling as she hung up. "A Doctor Ken Bridges, who is the Discipline Scientist for comets and several other research areas, is available and is expecting you now. His office is down the hall." She jotted down the room number on a memo slip and handed it to Sam.
    In the hall, Laine said. "You never expected to talk to the Associate Administrator, did you?"
    "Of course not. But if you want to see somebody in a big bureaucracy, start at the top. It's much quicker to get kicked down to the office you want than it is to climb up from the bottom. We've been here for ten minutes and we're going to see the man we