With the measured steps of a man deep in thought, and very much worried, Colonel Welsh, Chief of Combined U.S. Intelligence, paced up and down the full length of the Carrier Carson's flight deck. He walked as a man who cared not where he was headed, because he knew that he would find nothing when he arrived there. Pilots and plane crews lounging in the crash nets that stretched the full length of the flight deck on both sides stopped talking as he passed, looked at him, gave a little shake of their heads, and murmured inaudible words of sympathy.

Suddenly the alarm system announced the approach of aircraft, the Carson's aircraft. Colonel Welsh stiffened in a halt, lifted his head and peered at the growing dots coming out of the sky to the north. Then he wheeled quickly, ran across the flight deck and hurried up aloft to the flight bridge. And there he came to a halt, gripping the bridge rail hard with both hands, and straining his eyes at the oncoming planes.

"Too bad again, Colonel," Admiral Jackson spoke quietly in his ear. "Those are the eight who went out on the last patrol. Here, look at them through my glasses, if you wish."

"Thank you, sir," the Colonel replied in a low voice, and fixed the glasses on the approaching planes.

A few moments later he lowered them from his eyes, and handed them back to the Admiral without any word. He focussed his naked eyes on the planes, and watched as they came up in line astern formation and circled the Carson until the leader got the flag to come aboard. Then one by one they slid down aboard to practically roll into the waiting hands of the plane crews. But as each pilot passed the flight bridge he looked up at Colonel Welsh, shook his head, and made a thumbs down gesture. And when the last pilot to come aboard had done that, and rolled on down the deck, Colonel Welsh gripped the flight bridge railing so hard his knuckles showed white through the stretched skin. And he had to swallow hard several times to stifle the groan of anguish that struggled for expression.

"Let's have some coffee in my quarters, Colonel," the task force commander said gently. "The executive can bring us the patrol report there."

"Thank you, thank you very much, sir," Colonel Welsh mumbled, and followed the other off the flight bridge.

When they were settled in the Admiral's quarters, and had been served coffee, the Chief of Combined U.S. Intelligence glanced over at the Navy officer with a faint apologetic smile.

"I'm afraid I'm not acting the good soldier very well, sir," he said. "I hope you'll accept my apologies. But this is getting me where it hurts the most."

"I quite understand, Colonel," the other said quietly. "It gets me, too, to have pilots reported missing in action, whether I know them personally or not. You just can't help feeling it deep."

"And those two I knew so well!" Colonel Welsh breathed sadly. "I couldn't know them any better if they were my own sons. And in a way I'm directly responsible for whatever has happened to them. I was the one who assigned them to this carrier. As I told you, they had just completed a very dangerous mission in China. They had postponed leave to carry out the mission for me. And if any two in this war rate leave, they certainly do. But—well, it struck me I needed them badly on this job. They both have all what it takes, and—well, they performed more than one absolutely impossible miracle in the past. So I decided to order them to take a hand in this job. And—"

As the colonel paused he couldn't stop the groan this time.

"And they are the only two that we have lost," he finally completed the sentence. "If only I had an idea of what happened, I don't think it would be so bad. Death comes swiftly and suddenly in this war, so we constantly have to steel ourselves on that subject. If they were killed in action, then that's something different. But just plain missing—and when no other pilot has reported a blessed thing. Well, that is the part so hard to take. But forgive me for rambling like this, sir."

"Think nothing of it, Colonel," the Admiral said, and added a drop more of cream to his coffee. "Frankly, I've been giving the puzzle more than a little thought. For two days, now, we've combed every square mile of this area, and no pilot has seen a trace or sign of anything. Not so much as a thread of smoke on the horizon. It has me worried, Colonel."

The Chief of Combined U.S. Intelligence stuck out his lower lip and gave a little half twist of his head.

"I'm very much worried, too, sir," he said. "If that reported Jap force is in these waters, it must be at the bottom of them. It certainly isn't in the area we've scouted. And that fact is what gives me cause for thought. A lot of thought. Technically, this area we're patrolling is Japanese-controlled. And yet, not a single Jap surface ship, submarine, or plane has shown its face. And I'm afraid, sir, the answer is that confounded Kawanishi flying boat that we shot down the other evening. It stands to reason that they must have sent out a radio report to their base before Dawson and Farmer nailed them."

"I'm afraid you're right about that, Colonel," the Admiral agreed with a nod. Then, as his brows furrowed in a frown, "But we were just off New Caledonia then, and headed east. We changed the course to north after darkness had fallen. And I'm positive we weren't detected during the night, nor have we been spotted since."

"But, unfortunately, the Japs are no fools," Colonel Welsh said grimly. "They are mighty clever, and have a way of accurately figuring things out for themselves. And they probably started adding things up when their patrol planes spotted no sign of us the next morning. It's possible that they outguessed us and sent word to the commander of this Jap force we're trying to hunt down. And he took measures to make sure that we wouldn't find him. He may have changed his course and moved far over to the west."

"If he did," the Admiral grunted, and rubbed one clenched fist on the arm of his chair, "then we won't find him before the attack on Guadalcanal gets started at dawn tomorrow. Even at top speed we couldn't get over to where he may be that soon. And, of course, it's only a guess that the force is over there. Also, it would be too risky. He might swing back along the northern New Guinea coast, and slip down past Lae. Or he may force his ships and cut around the western end of New Guinea, and strike at Australia from the north. However, if the Jap commander figures that we are up here looking for him, he'll undoubtedly take the double back route. That will get him to Lae by dawn. And when he gets there he is bound to get wind of our doings against Guadalcanal. Any way you look at it, we're in a bad spot. And that is not saying a thing about our forces taking part in the Guadalcanal business."

Colonel Welsh nodded soberly, but for a long moment he didn't say anything. He sat with his head slightly bent and his eyes fixed unwinkingly on the half filled cup of coffee he held in his hands. Presently he sighed, gave a little shake of his head, and looked up at the task force commander.

"Yes, you're dead right, sir, in everything you say," he spoke in a weary voice. "So I'll step to one side, sir, and let you have charge of things from here on. I thought sure we would catch that Jap force as a result of this search, but—well, Intelligence has been wrong before. No use weeping over it. We just didn't click this time. So go ahead, sir, and issue the order to abandon the search."

"Thank you, Colonel," the task force commander said with just the faintest note of relief in his voice. "I'm afraid we are wasting time way up here. And I'm mighty sorry, sir, about Dawson and Farmer. I sincerely hope that they will pop up again, just as you have told me they have done so many times in the past. At least it's some satisfaction to know that those two will take some beating before they'll give up. And a pair like them will never give up.""Never!" Colonel Welsh echoed grimly. "And we can both hope, and pray. But may I ask you something, sir?"

"Why, certainly, Colonel," the other replied instantly. "I don't think you and I have any secrets aboard this ship. Go right ahead and ask."

"Your plans," the Intelligence Chief asked bluntly. "Just what do you plan to do now, sir?"

The Admiral didn't answer at once. Yet it was not because he was reluctant to speak. It was simply a case of wanting to choose his words first.

"The Solomons," he said, and glanced at the huge naval chart of the Southwest Pacific that covered all of one wall in his quarters. "By pushing things we can get within striking distance by early dawn. I think that's the thing to do. The only thing we can do. Get right down in there and do what we can to help the land forces."

"Yes, I guess that's best," Colonel Welsh said, and glanced sadly out one of the ports at the red ball of fire that was the dying sun balanced on the western lip of the wall. "But what if we get down in among those islands and that Jap force comes up on us by surprise? You'll be in mighty tight waters. And they're bound to send dive bombers over from their Lae base, too."

"Do?" the task force commander echoed in a harsh voice, as his chin came out in a fighting pose. "I'll slug it out with them until I haven't a plane left or a deck under my feet, sir! And I can tell you, sir, that my ships and planes will not be the only ones lost, if the Japs catch us with our bows to those islands. Our forces have got to take Guadalcanal! And that's all there is to that. We can't let them trim us this time. By God, no, sir!"

Colonel Welsh smiled, nodded, and lifted his coffee cup and held it poised in midair.

"To whatever happens, sir," he toasted. "And may we have all the best of it!"

The task force commander lifted his own coffee cup, and nodded, too.

"And we will, by God, sir!" he said through clenched teeth. "Just as long as we've got a ship floating or a plane flying! Amen!"

And the two high ranking officers drank silently.