Why not? I gave him the same answer as before. "Ready as I ever will be."
He handed me a pair of glasses, 7 x 50. "The drone ship took off ten minutes ago. Look due north-no, north is that way-and whenever it comes into whatever you consider your range-"
"Bingo!"
"Bingo!" He liked that. "When you fire it-"
–
"You mean, if I fire it."
"If you fire it, just before, you slide the filters over the ends of your binoculars like so. Or better still, turn your back."
Turn my back? I wanted to see what was going to happen.
"All right, but make sure you get those filters down in time." He cocked an ear as someone shouted something that was carried away in the freshening breeze. "Must have picked it up with radar. Let's see if we can find it," and together we set to sweeping the northern horizon.
Radar must have been sharp that day, because the drone, a battered B-24, was right on top of us before we picked it up, a mote in the sun's brazen eye. A flurry of orders relayed to the control ship sent it soaring back into the distance, a mile or so high. Just at the limit of visibility I used the corner of my mouth to Smith.