o feel cut off from one's own compatriots.....

That it took Frank so long to entertain even these simple doubts,
showed just how deep his military training had gone. As intended, he
was no longer an individual, no longer a thinking, questioning being,
but merely an instrument, a cog in a runaway machine. But despite all
efforts to the contrary, even a cog has a mind.

Finally he could bear it no longer. He secured an audience with the
man alone, difficult enough just that, and told him in no uncertain
terms of the Fleet's need for fuel, repairs, and additional vessels to
replace those lost in the fighting. He had also intended to demand
access to direct communications; but the forbidding glare aroused in
the hawkish face as he approached the subject, made him back off.
Insisting on a link-up with one of the American outposts would have to
cover it. If something were truly amiss, surely they would find out
there.

But Hayes' cunning was not yet expired. He had foreseen this. Already
he had his next move planned.

"Very well, Admiral. In truth I'd been thinking along the same lines
myself. There are two outposts in Scimitar, are there not? The nearer
being Westmoreland station, is that correct?"

"Yes, General. Shall I alter our course in that direction?"

"By all means. Only not too straight or too fast. I want to send a
Detachment there first to make sure everything is on the level. The
Russians have been getting a little too close for comfort, eh?" With
this his face broke into an unnatural smile.

"I know, my friend. This cannot go on much longer: radio silence,
little or no action on appropriations. If we don't learn something
more useful at Westmoreland, I think we may just head for home. Maybe
I can get to the bottom of this myself, rattle a few cages back in
Washington. Stone must be beside himself. Election year or not,
they've got no right to play politics with the lives of the Third
Fleet."

He rose, patted Frank on the arm, and started to leave. Then turning
in the portal, he added. "Sorry if I've been a bit of a dry fist
lately. Trying to carry the weight of all this had made me..... Well,
you see how it is. Do you forgive me?"

"Yes, of course. That is. . .there is nothing to forgive. I was only
concerned....."

"Yes, I know. You were concerned for the Fleet, as is your duty, and
your character. You're a good man in a hard place, Donald. Don't ever
think I take you