McCandless licked dry lips.
"I think it's from out in space, sir. Maybe it's an exploration party,
but more than likely it's an armed scouting party."
"What makes you say that?"
McCandless leaned forward, his concern over his cup of coffee
momentarily forgotten. "I think if it was an exploration party they
would have stopped at some point of civilization first. In all
likelihood a city, a big city. But we've received no reports of any ship
landing near a city. At least, not yet." He paused, a little
self-consciously. "It wouldn't be difficult to tell that we're part of
the fighting forces of this planet, and I think it's just luck that it
chose the _Josef_ instead of us. I think the alien ship is investigating
the _Josef_. Or will shortly."
Davis lit a cigarette, a half amused smile on his face. "For what
purpose?"
"To test the armament. See how good we are on the defensive."
"What do you think they want?" the Captain asked curiously.
McCandless hesitated, then blurted it out.
"The whole world, sir!"
* * * * *
At oh five hundred the sun was just breaking over the horizon, coating
the heavy green seas with a soft covering of pink gold. It was going to
be another hot day, the Captain thought, one where the heat stood off
the water in little waves and the sweat ran down your back and soaked
your khakis. And with GQ, the rubber life jackets would make it about
ten times as bad.
He stood on the bridge for a moment, admiring the sunrise and smelling
the brisk salt air, then walked into the wheelhouse.
The drone plane had been up for half an hour. By this time it should
have a clearer picture of the object that hovered over the _Josef_.
It did. The object was dun colored, the color of storm clouds on a cold
winter's day. Big, easily as big as the _Josef_, and tubular shaped,
slightly flattened on the bottom. There was nothing that could be
identified as gun ports but they probably didn't use guns. He wondered
just what their armament was.
He turned to the radarman on watch.
"Has the _Josef_ moved any?"
The man nodded. "Yes, sir. About oh four hundred they steamed ten miles
north at top speed."
"The object kept up with them?"
"Yes, sir. It's never left them, sir. Same position directly overhead at
all times."
The captain of the _Josef_ must have realized that he couldn't get away
from his overhead observer and probably froze in position, afraid of
what would happen if he continued to run for it. He'd probably stay
there until the alien ship made some hostile move or he got instructions
from home.
The Captain walked back to the bridge. The ship was strangely silent.
There were no jets warming up on the flight deck, there were no sounds
of chipping hammers. Except for the planes overhead, it was a quiet
summer day, one of those days when a perfectly smooth sea looks like a
sheet of plate glass.
He glanced down at the sides of the _Oahu_. Tiny figures were huddled by
the anti-aircraft guns, their helmets glinting in the sun. A tight ship,
he thought, a ship that was ready for anything.
McCandless came out on the bridge, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of
sleep. He stood a respectful distance from the Captain, a little to the
right and just behind.
"Beautiful day, isn't it, Lieutenant?"
"Yes, sir. It is, sir. Very fine day."
Sir. That was the one reason why he tolerated Davis, the Captain
thought. Just to hear somebody call him by his first name and treat him
as something other than a symbol of rank.
"If your theory is correct, Lieutenant," he mused aloud, "then the alien
ship should be opening fire--if that's what you would call it--any
minute now."
"Yes, sir." McCandless brushed his mouth with his hand--probably
surreptitiously removing a wad of gum, the Captain thought. "I was
wondering what you would do, sir, if the alien ship opens fire on the
_Josef_."
"If it wasn't against regulations, I'd issue a couple of cans of beer
per man."