“It just dropped in?” says Rasmussen blankly.

“Figure of speech, sir,” says a Whitecoat. “But it does seem to have, ah, plonked right into the Kuiper gap.”

“Two satellites, you said.” Rasmussen scrabbles through spectroscopy printouts. “Composed of–you’re joking.”

“No sir. Ninety-eight percent lead, sir.”

“But the damn thing’s a gas giant!” Rasmussen says. “Unless its core is all heavy metals–”

“Looks like the core’s iron,” says the Whitecoat. “And it’s shaped like–well, you should probably see it yourself, sir.”

He passes over the Röntgen print. Rasmussen squints, turns it sideways, stops.

“Is that a hook?” he asks.