Connelly raised an eyebrow as Michael took the lead again, searching the door numbers. "I never said yes."

Michael gave her a skeptical glance.

Connelly ignored it. "What's a geologist doing in the arctic?"

"Looking for meteorites," Michael said.

Connelly squinted. "Meteorites?"

Michael stopped in front of a door. "Ahh," he said. "Here's my stop."

Connelly looked at the door. It was number 117.

Michael smiled. "Shall I open the door for you, Dr. Connelly?"

There was no hiding Connelly's shocked expression.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Michael extended his hand. "Michael Peterson. Astrogeologist. I discovered the Europa sample. I'm the geologist on the Europa mission."

Connelly shook his hand for the second time. Sonofabitch. "You knew who I was this entire time."

Michael Peterson nodded. "Sorry about that. I couldn't resist. Look at it this way, at least dinner is an option again." Michael opened the door. "Ladies and mission leaders first.

Connelly walked through the open door.

*   *   *   *   *

"Look who's late," Willard said as Connelly entered the room.

She gave Willard a sarcastic smile. After Michael Peterson's ruse, she was in no mood for witty banter. She looked around the room. For a multi-billion dollar corporation, they certainly hadn't put much effort into snazzing up the training facilities. The room reminded her of her third grade classroom at Cove School back in Beverly, minus the plants, toys and schoolbooks. There were five rows of adult sized desks, a white board at the front of the room and a large mirror at the back.

She was tempted to wave to whoever was observing them on the other side of the mirror, but thought better of it.

The room lacked the chalky smell of old classrooms, but more than made up for it with the odor of permanent markers and bleach.

"Who's your friend?" Willard said as Peterson entered the room behind Connelly and shut the door.

"Robert, Ethan, this is Michael Peterson. He's the geologist who discovered the Europa meteorite, and he's going to be our geologist on the mission."

"Hey, Mikey," Willard said as he shook Peterson's hand with a dazzling array of moves ending with a punch of the fists. Michael looked horrified by the end and pulled his hand away quickly.

"Ethan Willard," Peterson said. "Safety specialist...and smart ass."

Robert shook Peterson's hand. "A pleasure," Robert said.

"Robert Samuels, oceanographer and crack shot, self-taught electronics engineer."

"Correct on all counts," Robert said with a smile.

"And I've already had the pleasure of meeting out mission leader, Kathy Connelly, biologist, oceanography and my future dinner date."

Connelly's face flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and anger as she took a seat at one of the desks.

Ethan chuckled. "Boss, things move faster in space, but you're still on the ground."

"One more word," Connelly said. "And you'll have to walk back from Europa." She looked at Michael. "That goes for you too."