to paint-job . . . and so, thought the Captain, it should be.
In the observation chamber in the nose the officers were watching the big screen.
“Chip,” said the Captain quietly.
The Executive Officer detached himself from the group around and over the tables watching the large screen there. “You don’t have to hear it all over again.”
“What’s up?”
“It’s hard to say, Chip. The Admiral’s done a couple of little things I can’t quite figure, but I do know he’s a man who doesn’t do things, even little ones, without a reason.”
“Like what?”
“Like replacing stores almost before we looped a line on a bollard, and then claiming the stores had priority on the hatchway and nobody could go ashore until he got back. I know he wants to head for the Pacific fast, but you’d think he was getting ready to scald out of here like panic.”
“Yeah, and the shore leaves. The boys don’t like that—holding up everything, including so much as a phone call, until he gets back. Berkowitz is half out of his head, wanting to get through to his wife.”
Crane shrugged. “When we find out why, it’ll make more sense.”
“I guess so. Meanwhile, the shore party’s got their shoes shined and their pay in their pocket. That deadhead Alvarez is as ready as he can get, and Dr. Hiller’s all packed and purty.”
“I saw her,” nodded Crane. “We’ll miss her around here, especially you.”
“Boy, that’s one professional who can shrink my head all the way down to the tonsil level.”
“You got a head start,” said Crane. “Try to keep your hands off her tail feathers when she goes up the conning ladder.”
“Ah shucks, Cap’n, is that an order? I’ve been planning that ever since I saw her. Not even a little down?”
“It wouldn’t pay you, Chip. You’d never get to make the first installment.” Over the Exec’s painful groan, Crane said, “Will Señor Alvarez be good enough to climb out, or will you have to rig a sling?”
“He’ll walk. He’s not against us, Lee. He just don’t give a damn. Stand him up and give him a push, and he’ll walk. Only you have to steer him. Talk to him, he’ll listen. Ask him, he’ll answer. It’s just that by himself he won’t walk or talk or even eat. According to him, since God showed His hand up there, nobody has to do anything any more. Everything’s already done. Like badly. Mene mene tekel upharsin , like it says in the Good Book: we’ve been weighed in the balance and found wanting.”
“Yeah, that was written in letters of fire too, as I recall. Jesus: if mankind had always figured like that it wouldn’t have got so far as to crawl out of the drink and breathe air. The hell with him.”
“The hell, he says, with us all, and here we go.”
“You seem to’ve spent a lot of time listening to him.”
Chip Morton shrugged. “Man’s got to do something with these long winter evenings when the boss says you can’t collect tail feathers.”
“Oh well,” said the Captain, giving back the shrug and a grin to go with it, “I guess he can get you into less trouble than the good doctor would.”
“Now that,” said Morton, “is for damn sure . . . hey: what’s happening?”
It was happening on television: Admiral Nelson, having reached the point in his speech in which he announced his intention to go to the Marianas, leaving immediately. Off camera came loud shouts of “ No! No! ”
The camera remained fixed on Nelson’s surprised face and there must have been some frantic work in the TV booth while they got another camera trained in the unexpected direction. Then the scene cut to a long shot of the Assembly chamber, and a burly figure in black plowing down the center aisle, trailing a number of gentlemen enthusiastically echoing the burly one’s big negative bellow.
“That seems to be,” said the announcer off camera, “yes, it is, Dr. Emilio Zucco. You will recall, if you have been following these sessions, that Dr.
In the observation chamber in the nose the officers were watching the big screen.
“Chip,” said the Captain quietly.
The Executive Officer detached himself from the group around and over the tables watching the large screen there. “You don’t have to hear it all over again.”
“What’s up?”
“It’s hard to say, Chip. The Admiral’s done a couple of little things I can’t quite figure, but I do know he’s a man who doesn’t do things, even little ones, without a reason.”
“Like what?”
“Like replacing stores almost before we looped a line on a bollard, and then claiming the stores had priority on the hatchway and nobody could go ashore until he got back. I know he wants to head for the Pacific fast, but you’d think he was getting ready to scald out of here like panic.”
“Yeah, and the shore leaves. The boys don’t like that—holding up everything, including so much as a phone call, until he gets back. Berkowitz is half out of his head, wanting to get through to his wife.”
Crane shrugged. “When we find out why, it’ll make more sense.”
“I guess so. Meanwhile, the shore party’s got their shoes shined and their pay in their pocket. That deadhead Alvarez is as ready as he can get, and Dr. Hiller’s all packed and purty.”
“I saw her,” nodded Crane. “We’ll miss her around here, especially you.”
“Boy, that’s one professional who can shrink my head all the way down to the tonsil level.”
“You got a head start,” said Crane. “Try to keep your hands off her tail feathers when she goes up the conning ladder.”
“Ah shucks, Cap’n, is that an order? I’ve been planning that ever since I saw her. Not even a little down?”
“It wouldn’t pay you, Chip. You’d never get to make the first installment.” Over the Exec’s painful groan, Crane said, “Will Señor Alvarez be good enough to climb out, or will you have to rig a sling?”
“He’ll walk. He’s not against us, Lee. He just don’t give a damn. Stand him up and give him a push, and he’ll walk. Only you have to steer him. Talk to him, he’ll listen. Ask him, he’ll answer. It’s just that by himself he won’t walk or talk or even eat. According to him, since God showed His hand up there, nobody has to do anything any more. Everything’s already done. Like badly. Mene mene tekel upharsin , like it says in the Good Book: we’ve been weighed in the balance and found wanting.”
“Yeah, that was written in letters of fire too, as I recall. Jesus: if mankind had always figured like that it wouldn’t have got so far as to crawl out of the drink and breathe air. The hell with him.”
“The hell, he says, with us all, and here we go.”
“You seem to’ve spent a lot of time listening to him.”
Chip Morton shrugged. “Man’s got to do something with these long winter evenings when the boss says you can’t collect tail feathers.”
“Oh well,” said the Captain, giving back the shrug and a grin to go with it, “I guess he can get you into less trouble than the good doctor would.”
“Now that,” said Morton, “is for damn sure . . . hey: what’s happening?”
It was happening on television: Admiral Nelson, having reached the point in his speech in which he announced his intention to go to the Marianas, leaving immediately. Off camera came loud shouts of “ No! No! ”
The camera remained fixed on Nelson’s surprised face and there must have been some frantic work in the TV booth while they got another camera trained in the unexpected direction. Then the scene cut to a long shot of the Assembly chamber, and a burly figure in black plowing down the center aisle, trailing a number of gentlemen enthusiastically echoing the burly one’s big negative bellow.
“That seems to be,” said the announcer off camera, “yes, it is, Dr. Emilio Zucco. You will recall, if you have been following these sessions, that Dr.
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