"It doesn't make a great deal of difference what we think, Lieutenant," the Captain said, a little of his good humor restored. "In the long run, we'll do whatever Washington says." There was a sudden, flashing glow just over the horizon. McCandless blanched and the Captain clutched the rail, his knuckles turning white with the force of his grip. There was another flash and the OD popped out of the hatch of the wheelhouse like a cork out of a bottle. "Captain! the ..." The Captain was already brushing past him, heading into the pilothouse for the television screen and the picture that the drone plane was transmitting. The picture on the screen wavered and blurred with the shock of the action. From what he could see, the Captain knew that whatever action he took, if any, he would have to take it within a relative few minutes. The forward half of the superstructure of the _Josef_ was a smoking ruin, the metal a cherry red. Half the planes on the flight deck were charred and being frantically pushed overboard by small tractors so the remainder of the planes could be airborne. A mile overhead, in the glazing blue sky, the few planes the _Josef_ had managed to launch buzzed futilely about the alien ship, discharging rockets that scintillated and flamed off the dull gray sides and, so far as the Captain could tell, were causing no damage at all. "Message for you, sir." He felt the clip board being pushed into his hand, then glanced down. It was difficult to read without his glasses but he could make it out. _Unusual ... do nothing rash ... your discretion ..._ Some cautious pen pusher behind a desk, he thought chaotically. Somebody for whom miles had lent safety and detachment. _His_ discretion ... It was his responsibility. * * * * * Commander Davis was at his elbow. "The _Josef_'s starting to list, Captain." "I can see that!" he half snarled. He wouldn't feel pity if the _Josef_ went down, he thought fiercely. It would be good riddance, one less carrier that they would have to worry about at some future date. If there was some future date, a nagging thought intruded. He throttled it. The _Josef_ stood for everything that he despised, a way of life that had made a mockery of everything he had been taught to believe in. The menace that had eaten at the world's vitals like a cancer, the menace whose existence had been enough to drive some men to hysteria and others to the brink of suicide. His own wife ... Now a ship from Outside was attacking that power and what emotions should he feel? Elation? Well, why not? What other emotions should he feel? Certainly not sadness, not regret, not pity. The _Josef_ would be sunk and maybe the aliens would be tempted to do more than just attack the _Josef_; they might attack the entire Combine as well. And if the Combine was beat, did it matter who did it?