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'Chicken,' said Ewing.

'Does it bounce?'

'I hope not, sir.'

'Roast or fried?'

'Roast.'

'See that, Mr. Creedman? Simple fare.'

He turned to Ewing. 'And for Dr. Moreland?'

'Sir?'

Hoffman's lips maintained a smile but his eyes narrowed until they disappeared. 'Dr. Moreland's a vegetarian, Captain. I believe I radioed you that from the plane.'

'Yes, sir. There are vegetables.'

'There are vegetables. Fresh ones?'

'I believe so, sir.'

'I hope so,' said Hoffman, too gently. 'Dr. Moreland maintains a very healthy diet- or at least he used to. I assume that hasn't changed, Bill?'

'Anything's fine,' said Moreland.

'You were way ahead of your time, Bill. Eating right while the rest of us went merrily about, clogging our arteries. You look great. Been keeping up with the bridge?'

'No.'

'No? You had how many master points- ten, fifteen?'

'Haven't played at all since you left, Nicholas.'

'Really.' Hoffman looked around. 'Bill was a great bridge player- photographic memory and you couldn't read his face. The rest of us were amateurs, but we did manage to put together some spirited matches, didn't we, Bill? You really quit? No more duplicate tournaments like the ones you used to play at the Saipan club?'

Another shake of Moreland's head.

'Anyone here play?' said Hoffman. 'Maybe we can get a game going after dinner.'

Silence.

'Oh, well… great game. Skill plus the luck of the draw. A lot more realistic than something like chess.'

Zondervein returned with Creedman's martini. Two sailors followed with a rolling cart of appetizers.

Honeydew melon wrapped in ham.

Hoffman said, 'Take the meat off Dr. Moreland's.'

Zondervein rushed to obey.

The ham tasted like canned sausage. The melon was more starch than sugar.

Gladys had said Hoffman was a gourmet, but gourmand was more like it: he dug in enthusiastically, scraping honeydew flesh down to bare rind and emptying his water glass three times.

'Dad's been writing to you,' said Pam. 'Did you receive his letters?'

'I did indeed,' said Hoffman. 'Two letters, right, Bill? Or did you send some I didn't get?'

'Just two.'

'Would you believe they just made their way to my desk? The filtering process. Actually only the second one got to me directly. Maybe the three times you wrote 'personal' on the envelope did the trick. Anyway, I was tickled to receive it. Then I read the reference to your first letter and put out a search for it. Finally found it in some aide's office filed under 'Ecology.' You probably would have received a form letter in two or three months- where do you get the ham, Elvin? Not Smithwood or Parma, that's for sure.'

'It's through the general mess, sir,' said Ewing. 'As you instructed.'

Hoffman stared at him.

Ewing turned to Zondervein. 'Where's the ham from, Lieutenant?'

'I'm not sure, sir.'

'Find out ASAP. Before the senator leaves.'

'Yes, sir. I'll go to the kitchen right now-'

'No,' said Hoffman. 'Not important- see, Tom, we eat frugally when the public picks up the tab.'

'If you want great grub, Senator, come over to my house.'

'You cook, do you?'

'Love to cook. Got a great beef tournedos recipe.' Creedman smiled at Moreland. 'I'm into meat.'

'Get much meat on the island?' said Hoffman.

'I make do. It takes some creativity.'

'How about you, Pam? Do you like to cook?'

'Not particularly.'

'Only thing I can do is biscuits. Campside biscuits, recipe handed down from my great-grandmother- flour, baking soda, salt, sugar, bacon drippings.'

'How long will you be staying?' said Moreland.

'Just till tomorrow.'

'You've finished assessing Stanton?'

'The process began stateside.'

'Are you planning to close it down?'

Hoffman put down his fork and rubbed the rim of his plate. 'We're not at the decision stage, yet.'

'Meaning closure is likely.'

'I can't eliminate any possibilities, Bill.'

'If the base closes, what will happen to Aruk?'

'You're probably in a better position to say, Bill.'

'I probably am,' said Moreland. 'Do you remember what I wrote about the blockade of South Beach road?'

'Yes, I mentioned that to Captain Ewing.'

'Did Captain Ewing give you his reason?'

Hoffman looked at Ewing. 'Elvin?'

Ewing's red face was aflame. 'Security,' he rasped.

'Meaning?' said Moreland.

Ewing directed his answer at Hoffman. 'I'm not free to discuss it openly, sir.'

'The blockade was economical oppression, Nick,' said Moreland.

Hoffman cut free a white outer scrap of melon, stared at it, chewed, and swallowed.

'Sometimes things change, Bill,' he said softly.

'Sometimes they shouldn't, Nick. Sometimes under the guise of helping people we do terrible things.'

Hoffman squinted at Ewing again. 'Could you be a little more forthcoming for Dr. Moreland, Elvin?'

Ewing swallowed. There'd been no food in his mouth. 'There was some local unrest. We appraised it given the data at hand, and the judgment was that it had the potential to escalate and pose a hazard to Navy security. Restricting contact between the men and the locals was deemed advisable in terms of risk management. The proper forms were sent to Pacific Command and approval was granted by Admiral Felton.'

'Gobbledygook,' said Moreland. 'A few kids got out of hand. I think the Navy can handle that without choking off the island's economy. We've exploited them all these years, it's immoral to simply yank out the rug.'

Ewing bit back comment and stared straight ahead.

'Bill,' said Hoffman, 'my memory is that we saved them from the Japanese. That doesn't make us exploiters.'

'Defeating the Japanese was in our national interest. Then we took over and imposed our laws. That makes the people our responsibility.'

Hoffman tapped his fork on his plate.

'With all due respect,' he said very softly, 'that sounds a little paternalistic.'

'It's realistic.'

Pam touched the top of his hand. He freed it and said: ' 'Local unrest' makes it sound like some kind of uprising. It was nothing, Nick. Trivial.'

Ewing's lips were so tight they looked sutured.