"This is a wub," Franco said. "It's to be eaten. Will you measure it and figure out—"
"I think we should have a talk," the wub said. "I'd like to discuss this with you, Captain, if I might. I can see that you and I do not agree on some basic issues."
The Captain took a long time to answer. The wub waited good-naturedly, licking the water from its jowls.
"Come into my office," the Captain said at last. He turned and walked out of the room. The wub rose and padded after him. The men watched it go out. They heard it climbing the stairs.
"I wonder what the outcome will be," the cook said. "Well, I'll be in the kitchen. Let me know as soon as you hear."
"Sure," Jones said. "Sure."
The wub eased itself down in the corner with a sigh. "You must forgive me," it said. "I'm afraid I'm addicted to various forms of relaxation. When one is as large as I—"
The Captain nodded impatiently. He sat down at his desk and folded his hands.
"All right," he said. "Let's get started. You're a wub? Is that correct?"