"Yes," said Davis. "What's happened?"
"Nothing," said the man ashore. "We were watching for that bolide. It was picked up by space radar a couple of hours ago, but then we figured it to land farther on than it did."
It was an educated voice, a scholarly voice.
"Big?" asked Davis as the light drew nearer.
"We've seen them bigger, but not much." The man with the lantern reached the end of the wharf. "Glad to see you. We've got some fish for you, by the way. We caught them in the lagoon. They're waiting for you in the deep-freeze. There's a Macrourus violaceus, if we read the books right, and a Gonostoma polypus. They match the pictures, anyhow. What do you make of that?"
"You haven't got them!" said Davis incredulously. "You can't have them! I'm no fish specialist, but those are abyssal fish! They can only be caught at a depth of two or more miles!"
"We caught 'em," said the man cheerfully, "on a hook and line, in the lagoon, at night. Come ashore! Everybody'll be glad to see you."
Davis protested, "I won't believe you've got that kind of fish until I see them!"
The man with the lantern stepped down to the yacht's deck.
"All you've got to do is look in the mess hall deep-freeze. The cook's complaining that they take up space. Nobody wants to find out if they're good to eat. Most unwholesome-looking creatures! And how are you, young lady?" he asked Deirdre. "We've missed you. Tony, Nick, Jug...."