The contact team crowded into the Number One landing craft, which
had been fitted out as a temporary headquarters. Prefab-hut elements
were already being unloaded from the other craft.
Everybody felt that a drink was in order, even if it was two hours
short of cocktail time. They carried bottles and glasses and ice to
the front of the landing craft and sat down in front of the battery
of view and communication screens. The central screen was a two-way,
tuned to one in the officers' lounge aboard the _Hubert Penrose_,
two hundred miles above. In it, also provided with drinks, were
Captain Guy Vindinho and two other Navy officers, and a Marine
captain in shipboard blues. Like Gofredo, Vindinho must have gotten
into the Service on tiptoe; he had a bald dome and a red beard, and
he always looked as though he were gloating because nobody knew
that his name was really Rumplestiltskin. He had been watching
the contact by screen. He lifted his glass toward Meillard.
"Over the hump, Paul?"
Meillard raised his drink to Vindinho. "Over the first one.
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