Blackjack sighed. "Now that that's settled, where do we go from here? Do we have to actually fight with your ship here, or can we just surrender and save wear and tear on everybody?"
"I think we can dispense with that in this case. Instead, why don't you have your ship tag along with the Dreamer for awhile. I'll instruct the captain to fill you in on our procedures and fleet policies. Then we can talk again."
"Fine by me." Blackjack smiled. "Anything else, boss?"
"Yes, start organizing the personnel records for your crew. I'll want to go over them with you next time we talk."
"Why?" Blackjack asked suspiciously. "I thought selection and assignment of the crew was my responsibility."
"It is," Tambu soothed. "I just like to be familiar with the individuals serving under me."
'All right. It might take awhile, though. I was never big on record keeping."
"I'm particularly curious about two of your crew," Tambu commented, unable to resist the jibe. "One of them is a short-haired blonde in her late twenties; the other is a boy in his mid-teens, Spanish-looking. I think you know who I mean."
Blackjack was visibly unsettled by the request.
"You weren't kidding when you said you had your sources, were you?" he said wonderingly.
"No, I wasn't. Tambu out."
He waited until Blackjack's face was gone, then leaned into his console once more.
"Are you still there, Puck?" he asked.
"Didn't miss a word," Puck replied, his features materializing on the screen.
"Good," Tambu nodded. "Try to get invited on board Blackjack's ship-and take a few extra people with you. I want a report from you on their armament and personnel to check against Blackjack's data. Can do?"
"Affirmative, boss."
"Keep me posted, then. Tambu out."
For a few minutes, Tambu leaned back in his chair smiling to himself. He considered calling Whitey, but rejected the thought. The board was clear, and his eyes hurt from staring at the screen for so many hours.
On an impulse, he rose and moved to the door of his cabin, activating the small intercom set into the wall. Hearing no conversation in the adjoining cabin, he depressed the button by the volume knob.
For long moments he waited, knowing that Ramona might not notice the small light glowing on her console even if she were in her cabin.
"Yes, boss?" Her voice came through the intercom at last.
"Can you come in here for a moment? Nothing important. I just want to talk to a live person for a while."
"Sure. Coming through."
He reached down and unlocked his side of the door, and a moment later heard the click as she unlocked her side.
"Care for some wine?" he offered as she entered the cabin. "I opened a half-bottle a couple hours back and haven't gotten around to drinking more than a glass."
"Only if you'll join me," she smiled. "It's silly, but my mother always told me a lady never drinks alone."
"Why not?" he smiled gesturing at the blank call-board. "The fleet seems to be handling its own problems for a change."
He draped himself over a chair and waited while Ramona poured two glasses of wine. Passing one to him, she pulled up another seat and sank into it, curling her legs up under her.
"You seem to be in an exceptionally good mood tonight," she observed, cocking her head to one side. "Good news on the board?"
"Not really," he frowned. "Just no bad news. There was one funny incident, though."
"Tell me about it."
"Well, I just got done talking with Blackjack. You remember I told you about him? The pirate we ran into on Trepec? The one who was going to get even with us?"
"I remember," Ramona nodded, sipping her wine. "What did he want?"
"He wanted to join the fleet, but that's not what tickled me. The funny part was that he didn't recognize me-my voice, that is. I wonder how he'd react if he knew the Tambu he was dealing with in such humble tones was the same man who took his gun away from him in a bar on Trepec?"
"That's it? That was your laugh of the day?"
"Well, I suppose it doesn't sound like much," Tambu admitted, crestfallen. "You would have had to have been there."
"I just don't think it's all that surprising that he didn't recognize you. You've changed a lot, you know."
"How so?"
"I didn't mean that as a criticism. It's just that since you've been coordinating things for several ships instead of one, you've taken on different mannerisms. Your voice has a no-nonsense ring of command to it that wasn't there when we first met."
"I haven't been aware of any changes," he protested.
"You're too close to see it," she pointed out. "But you're taking to command like a duck takes to water. You may have started out playing a role, but now you're it. You're the boss, the chief, the old man. There's a distance between you and everyone else, and it shows in how you talk."
"You mean that now, as we're talking here, I'm putting on airs?" he challenged.
"Not so much now when we're in the same room," Ramona conceded. "But when you're talking to me over the viewscreen, I can feel it. And it isn't putting on airs-it's just a clear knowledge of who orders and who follows."
"You make me sound awfully dictatorial."
"It isn't overt," Ramona insisted. "But there's no doubt in anyone's mind that there's an iron hand in that velvet glove. Nobody ever forgets you've done what no one else even thought of trying-building a united fleet from a bunch of individual ships."
"I'll have to think about that," Tambu sighed thoughtfully. "I thought I was just doing what had to be done to keep the fleet together."
"Did you let Blackjack join?" Ramona asked.
"Tentatively. It may be a mistake. I can't help but wonder how he'll act once he's operating on his own."
"It's my bet he'll be a model captain," Ramona stated. "In case you haven't noticed, the newer the ship, the closer they toe the line. The stronger the fleet gets, the less any individual ship wants to cross you."
"I'd rather have respect and loyalty than fear," Tambu stated flatly.
"You're going to get all three," Ramona insisted. "You're becoming a power, and that tends to polarize people's reactions. Some will love and respect you; others will migrate toward hate and fear."
"That's a bit too much for me in one evening." Tambu rose and stretched. "I'm going to get some sleep while I can. I still maintain I'm just doing my job."
"I'm not so sure it's always going to be that simple," Ramona retorted, uncoiling and starting for the door. "Remember, even now, the only one defining your job is you!"
INTERVIEW V
Erickson took advantage of the recess to inspect the room more closely. His confidence had grown until now he was more relaxed than at the beginning of the interview. Of particular interest to him was the collection of books which adorned the walls.
Much to his surprise, the titles were mostly of an economic or philosophical nature. For some reason, he had been expecting the main thrust of the literature to be military history. Like Tambu, the library was proving to be inconsistent with his preconceived notions.
He was about to take a volume down for closer inspection when Tambu's voice came over the console's speaker once more,
"I'm ready to continue now, Mr. Erickson. Please forgive the interruption."
"It's quite all right," the reporter waved, taking his seat once more. "I must confess, however, that it had somehow never occurred to me that the feared Tambu would occasionally have to go to the bathroom like anyone else."
"It's a common misconception surrounding public figures," Tambu said. "When the average person thinks of an actor, a politician, or an athlete, they always view them within the context of their specialty. The thought that they must occasionally perform some very ordinary tasks such as shining shoes or doing the laundry never enters into the picture."
"That's true," Erickson admitted. "I guess it's just a matter of ego-defense."
"Ego-defense? I don't believe I understand your point."
"Well, when an ordinary Joe looks at a celebrity, there's always one question in the back of his mind: 'What has he got that I don't?' If he lets himself view the celebrity as just another person, it means he must see himself as inferior. Since most people strive to see themselves as above average, they reject the thought that an ordinary person can achieve that much more success given the same materials to work with. As a result, rather than accept an inferior self-image, they are more comfortable projecting the celebrity into superhuman status. The view then is: Tm above average, but they're special! I don't have to compare myself with them because they're another species completely.' As I said, it's self-defense-or rather ego-defense."
"An interesting concept," Tambu commented after a moment's pause. "While I've observed the phenomenon, that is one interpretation I had never considered. Perhaps we can discuss it further later, if I have any extra time left at the end of our interview."
"I somehow doubt that." Erickson smiled. "Just what we've covered so far has raised so many questions in my mind that I'm sure the interview will last as long as time allows."
"In that case, we should probably proceed," Tambu said. "What questions do you have so far?"
"One question I've been asking in various ways since the beginning of the interview still sticks in my mind.
You've answered it indirectly with your narrative,.but I'd still like a simple 'yes or no' response. When you began organizing your force, did you think you were doing the right thing? Did you see your force as the good guys?"
"The simple answer is 'yes'!" Tambu replied. "The actual answer is far more complex. I was hoping you could see that by now."
"The complexity escapes me. It seems a very straightforward question."
"It becomes complex when I add that what we were doing was right in my own mind, not just at the beginning, but to this very day. However, I am aware that I do not have an exclusive patent on truth. What's right in my mind is not necessarily right in the minds of others. From there it's a matter of who you believe or which philosophy you embrace."
"But facts are facts," the reporter argued impatiently.
"Very well," Tambu sighed. "The facts are that we were successful. We waged war against the pirates infesting the trade and made enough of a dent in their numbers that their activity all but ceased. That is a fact which can be confirmed through your own newspaper's files. By examining our record you can see we were a law-enforcing group."
"Enforcing whose law?" Erickson jibed. "Yours?"
"You're defeating your own arguments, Mr. Erickson. You're attempting to interpret the facts. The factual response to your question, however, is that yes, we were enforcing my laws. There were no interstellar laws until I formulated them with my fleet. To judge beyond that requires interpretation. Was I bringing law and order to the previously lawless starlanes? Or was I an opportunistic bandit taking advantage of that lawless state?"
"I'm beginning to see your point," the reporter admitted hesitantly. "But what happened next? What happened once you gained the upper hand over the pirates?"
"Then," Tambu reminisced, "we began to encounter the same problem which has confronted peacetime armies since the dawn of time."
CHAPTER FIVE
"There's no sign of them at the other two inhabited planets in this system either. We've checked with instruments and confirmed with firsthand investigation. They aren't here."
Tambu slouched in his chair studying the angry face of the Candy Cane's captain on the viewscreen before him. He was as concerned over the mental state of the captain as he was about the unfortunate turn of events being reported.
"Have you checked planetside?"
"On all three planets," the captain confirmed. "There hasn't been a ship in this system in weeks. With your permission, I'd like to find the lying bastard who sold us this information and get our money back-with interest!"
Tambu grimaced at the suggestion, confident the captain could not see his expression. He had several unconfirmed reports on the captain of the Candy Cane, all regarding unnecessary brutality. The last thing he wanted to do was to give the man carte blanche to lean on one of their informants.
"Have you checked the uninhabited planets?" he asked, stalling for time.
The expression of anger on the captain's face gave way to one of uneasiness.
"We've run an instrument check, but not a firsthand confirmation," he admitted. "I figured if the Chameleon was putting in for R and R and supplies they'd be at one of the inhabited planets. I mean, there's no point in giving your crew shore leave on a hunk of barren rock. Shall I go ahead and check out the other planets?"
Tambu had reached his decision as the captain spoke.
"No, that won't be necessary. I want you to hold firm at that system for a while, though. Wait at least a week and see if our target pops up. He might just be running late."
The captain grimaced, then remembered that Tambu could still see him and rearranged his features into a forced smile.
"Hold position for a week," he repeated. "Affirmative."
"For the record," Tambu said casually, "What are you figuring as your modus operandi for that week?"
It was an unfair question. The captain had just gotten his orders, and it was obvious he couldn't have a set plan of action in mind yet. Still, Tambu expected his captains to be able to be able to think on their feet. Besides, he hadn't liked the way the captain reacted when receiving his orders.
"Urn..." the captain began, licking his lips nervously, "we'll leave a crewman at each spaceport on the three inhabited planets, then take up position close enough to the furthest uninhabited planet that it will screen our position. If the target ship shows up, our watchers can contact us by closed communicator and we'll move in."
Tambu let the captain suffer in silence for a full minute before he answered.
"That plan seems adequate. How do you intend to select which crewmen are to serve as watchers?"
"On the merit system," the captain replied promptly, his confidence apparently bolstered by the acceptance of his plan. "An all-expense-paid week planetside is a pretty nice plum. I figure it should go to my pest performers."
"That also means your best performers will be off-ship when you take on the target vessel," Tambu commented pointedly.
The captain's face fell at the admonishment, but Tambu continued.
"It's good to hear that. I wish more of my captains had that kind of faith in their crews instead of letting a few key crewmembers handle all the dirty work."
"I-Thank you, sir," the captain gulped.
"One suggestion, though," Tambu drawled, smiling at the captain's discomfort. "You might choose one of the watchers by random draw, then rig it so one of your newer crewmembers wins. Send someone with a bit of experience along to be sure he stays out of trouble, but make it clear it's the new man's assignment. Also, I think you should put all the watchers on a budget just to make sure they don't get carried away with their spending. They're there to do a job, not to go on a binge."
"Yes, sir."
"And announce to the crew that if you nail the target, there will be a week's shore leave at a planet of your choice."
"Yes, sir. Thank you." The captain was smiling now.
"Tambu out."
Tambu didn't smile as he clicked off the viewscreen. He took no pleasure or pride in dealing with situations such as this. They were all too commonplace now, more the rule than the exception.
Swiveling his chair away from the communications console, he faced his desk once again. The jumble of papers and notepads stared back at him in unswerving accusation. He realized that he viewed the work before him with neither enthusiasm nor distaste. He was too tired to muster any reaction.
He briefly considered the possibility of a short nap, but rejected the thought. He would double-check these figures once more, then take a break. With an involuntary sigh, he reached for a pencil.
Behind him, the communications console chimed softly, signaling an incoming call.
Tambu turned from his desk and reached "for the switch to activate the mechanism. His eye fell on the call board, and he hesitated.
The incoming call was being relayed through several ships. This was the normal precaution taken to hide his exact location. The ship originating the call was the Scorpion. Egor!
Tambu scowled at the board, his hand poised over the activator switch. For a moment, he was tempted to ignore the call. Then the console chimed again, and he threw the switch. As long as Egor was one of his captains, he would be afforded the same prompt attention as any other captain, no matter how annoying it was.
"Yes, Egor?" Tambu asked, forcing his voice into a neutral tone.
"Saladin says you approved the transfer of Jocko from the Scorpion to the Ramses." Egor's snarl exploded over the speaker even before his face blinked into focus.
"That is correct," Tambu replied levelly.
"Did you know Jocko is the second-best navigator in my crew?" Egor's face was on the screen now, and his expression matched his voice.
"I knew it," Tambu admitted without apology.
"Why wasn't I consulted?" Egor demanded. "Doesn't my say matter for anything anymore?"
As Egor spoke, the door of Tambu's office opened a crack, and Ramona's head appeared. She cocked an eyebrow in silent question, and he waved her inside.
"In this case, Egor, your opinion was already known," Tambu explained patiently. "You had already turned down Jocko's transfer request. That's why he came to me directly."
"So you just countermanded my authority," Egor scowled. "Without even bothering to ask my reasons."
"As Jocko explained it to me, he was either going to transfer or leave the force." Tambu's voice had an edge to it now. "Either way, the Scorpion was going to lose him. At least this way he's still in the force. As you pointed out, he's a good navigator."
"I still don't think you should have let him blackmail you." Egor was sullen now.
"What are we supposed to do? Chain him to his bunk?" Tambu's annoyance was beginning to show. "We can't hold people against their will. Even if we could, I wouldn't. I want ships crewed by free men, not slaves."
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