He was still in a grumpy mood when he walked down to his cabin for the first interview.  All of the reporters had wanted to interview him – and the Captain and everyone else on the ship – but he’d managed to insist on choosing his own interviewer.  He’d picked one of the experienced reporters, a man who’d actually been a carrier tech before retraining as a journalist.  His reports held a genuine flavour of someone who had actually been on a carrier as more than just a visitor, although there were hints that he thought he could do better.  At least, James considered, he had some reason for thinking so.  Most of the others would get themselves killed if they were allowed to roam the carrier unescorted.

“Commander,” the reporter said.  Marcus Yang was tall, a his face a mixture of Chinese and English features, but there was a reassuring competence in his attitude that James appreciated more than he cared to admit.  “Thank you for the interview.”

James snorted as he sat down and waved the reporter to the other chair.  If it had been up to him, there would be no interviews at all ... particularly not with the reporters who'd gained their places on account of their looks, rather than general competence.  He reminded himself, sharply, that they might not be fools.  Good looks didn't always equal stupidity.  One of the female reporters might prefer to be underestimated by her prey.

“You’re welcome,” he said.  It was a lie and he knew Yang knew it was a lie.  “But I’m afraid time is at a premium.”

“I won't take too much of your time,” Yang said.  “How did you wind up on Ark Royal?”

“The navy assigned me,” James said.  It was true enough, if certain details were excluded from consideration.  He’d worked hard to insert himself into the carrier’s chain of command, prior to discovering her true condition.  “I went willingly.”

“So it would seem,” Yang mused.  He changed the subject with suspicious haste.  “What do you believe the aliens actually want?”

“I believe that it would be a mistake to speculate without data,” James said, firmly.  He wasn't sure just how much data the reporters had access to, although he would have been surprised if none of the reports had leaked.  “We simply know nothing about their culture, their society or what they actually want from us.”

Yang smiled.  “You don’t have a theory?”

“No,” James said, not altogether truthfully.  He had his theories, but none of them had any real weight.  “Maybe they just think we’re ugly as sin.”

Yang’s smile grew wider.  “What would you say to the suggestion that top brass in the various spacefaring nations knew that the aliens existed a long time before they actually revealed themselves?”