"So am I," Dawson said absently. "I ..."
He let the rest trail off into silence, and gazed vacantly into space. Vice-Admiral Carter looked at him for a moment, and then leaned forward and tapped him on the knee.
"You've got a peculiar look on your face, Dawson," he said quietly. "Has anything special come to mind?"
Dave wiped the vacant look from his face, looked at the senior officer and smiled.
"Nothing on what's already happened, sir," he said. "But I think there's a pretty fair chance of our catching up with that fighter pilot."
"Then don't beat about the bush with it!" the senior officer snapped. "What? How?"
"If Farmer and I could be relieved of our base duties, sir," Dave said presently, "we could fly to Pearl and get there ahead of the force, go aboard each carrier before any shore leave was granted, and find our man. Naturally, you would have to radio for such permission to be given us, and also for Naval Intelligence to be there on hand to arrest the pilot when we spotted him, and seize his personal effects."
"Naturally I'd relieve you both of your duties here at the base," the vice-admiral said, "but you both happen to be hospital cases. You're in no condition for a flight to Pearl Harbor."
"Why not?" Dave blurted out. "I feel fine. I haven't even got an ache in my head."
"Nor I!" Freddy Farmer spoke up quickly. "Besides, sir, we don't have to take off today. It will take the force some time to reach Pearl. We can stay right here for a couple of days and still get there ahead of it. It would be simple enough to arrange for us to ferry over a Navy bomber, or something, wouldn't it?"