CHAPTER SIX
Tambu bent forward over his console and pressed his palms over his ears, unsuccessfully attempting to block out the babble of voices gushing from the viewscreen's speaker. Failing that, he drew a breath to speak angrily, then reconsidered. Almost of its own volition, his hand flipped a switch and the scene on the viewscreen changed, now displaying the space outside his ship.
Looking at the stars was becoming a habit with him, a ploy he relied on more and more to put his own problems in perspective. This time, however, the stars were partially obscured, upstaged by the vast armada of ships gathered here. Militarily, it was the strongest force in the universe, boasting more fighting ships than any planet-than any system could field. Many people outside the force feared its power. They were all too aware of the potential danger of this many ships united under a common cause.
United! Tambu smiled wryly. Those people would worry less if they had the vaguest idea of what actually went on within the fleet. The babble of voices rose in volume. Tambu sighed and readjusted the screen back to its original display.
It was a large room, one of the cargo holds of the Raven. Chairs had been packed in wall-to-wall to provide seating, but at the moment most of the room's occupants were on then" feet shouting and arguing with each other.
Tambu watched for a moment, then shook his head and leaned toward the microphone.
"I will entertain a motion to gas the room," he announced firmly.
Heads snapped around and arguments died in mid-sentence at the sound of his voice. Silence spread through the crowd like a wave, leaving shocked and wary stares in its wake.
"Now that I have your undivided attention, allow me to remind you of our situation. Each of you is a captain of a ship under my command. You are here to represent your ship's interests in discussions of the fleet's policies and procedures, as well as to exchange ideas with your peers."
He paused for a moment, then continued, allowing his voice to harden noticeably.
"As such, you are expected to conduct yourselves as mature, responsible adults, not as bickering children. Our agenda will require at least four days to cover, but it will take four months if you cannot contain yourselves. Now, if you will resume your seats, I would like to continue with the subject at hand."
The group began to obediently sort themselves out and shuffle toward their seats. One captain, however, remained in place. She was short, middle-aged, and grossly overweight, but her ferocious expression gave her additional stature as she waved her hand in the air, demanding recognition.
"Yes, Momma?" Tambu asked, acknowledging the woman's hand.
"I think what you said points out our need to limit the size of the fleet," she declared without preamble. "We're getting too big to function effectively, even in a meeting like this."
"Am I to understand that you feel being too big has hampered your effectiveness?" Tambu quipped, deliberately misunderstanding in an effort to lighten the mood.
The group chuckled appreciatively, but Momma was not to be sidetracked.
"Not me, the fleet," she insisted.
"Plans for expansion are on the agenda for tomorrow," Tambu pointed out. "I would appreciate it if you would hold your comments and opinions until that time."
"Well, I want to put a motion on the agenda then," Momma pressed stubbornly. "I think we should put a top limit of a hundred ships on the fleet."
Tambu noted the murmurs and nods of assent among the other captains. There were also several angry faces and hands being thrust violently into the air. The meeting was poised on the brink of another argumentative digression if he didn't exert control immediately.
"Momma," he asked, "are you volunteering to withdraw your membership from the fleet?"
"Me?" the woman blinked, taken aback. "No! I never said that."
"The fleet is already over a hundred strong," Tambu pointed out solemnly. "To adopt or even consider your proposal would imply a willingness to remove several existing member ships from the roster. I assume you would not suggest such a thing unless you were ready to accept the same exile as you were suggesting for others."
"No," Momma admitted, "I-I didn't know there were that many ships already."
Defeated, she sank into a chair, avoiding the eyes of the other captains. Tambu deliberately waited several moments before offering a lifeline.
"You have raised a good point, one I feel all the captains should ponder prior to our expansion discussion tomorrow. The subject currently under consideration, though, is the treatment of our crewmen during their visits planetside."
Several hands went up, seeking recognition. Tambu's attention, however, was drawn to one figure whose raised hand was accompanied by a thoughtful expression, a marked contrast to the eager or angry faces around him.
"Yes, Puck?" Tambu asked.
"I've been listening for the past hour, and it seems to me we're saying the same thing over and over. Now, we could all take turns telling horror stories and have a lot of fun one-upping each other and get everyone all worked up, but I don't see much point in it. We're all in agreement that our crews are being treated shabbily. Once that's been established, I think it's a waste of time to continue recounting the gory details. The real question we should be discussing is what are we going to do about it?"
There was scattered applause as Puck sat down. Tambu smiled to himself. Puck had come a long way from the cocky, hair-trigger kid he used to be. He was rapidly becoming one of the most valuable and popular captains in the fleet.
"I think Puck has put his finger on the problem," Tambu announced firmly. "If we can dispense with further itemizing of complaints, I'd like to hear some discussion from the floor as to proposed courses of action."
"We've got to hit them back," Blackjack called, leaping to his feet. "As long as the Groundhogs think they can gang up on our crewmembers and get away with it, they're going to keep doing it. I say we should teach
ROBERT LYNN ASPRJN them that if they lean on someone off a Tambu ship, they're going to get it shoved back down their throats." Tambu frowned at the growls of assent that responded to Blackjack's suggestion. " Whitey?" he said, recognizing the scowl on her face. "We can't do that, Blackjack," she argued. "Last time I checked, we were still a law enforcement organization. Now, the one rule that's always held for law enforcement groups is that to gain and keep public support, you can't use undue force. That means if someone jostles you on the street, you can't break his arm. If we start going around exacting vengeance with interest for every insult or injury, we'll never get any public support."
"Public support?" Blackjack roared. "The last public support my ship got put three of my crew in the hospital!"
"How do you know your roughnecks didn't start it?" Whitey challenged.
"Three men don't start a fight with a whole bar," Blackjack shot back.
"They might," Whitey corrected. "Or they might try to hassle a hooker with a lot of friends." "Are you saying my men-"
"That's enough!" Tambu barked. "It was decided that we weren't going to discuss specific incidents, nor am I going to allow this discussion to degenerate into childish name-calling."
Though they couldn't see him, the anger in his voice was sufficient to subdue the two combatants.
"Now then, Blackjack, you've proposed a program of retribution. Whitey has raised two questions. First, how much force are you suggesting we employ; and second, what level of investigation do you plan to carry out before launching your retribution? I am also curious as to your answers to those questions. Would you care to comment?" "I haven't thought it through that far," Blackjack admitted. "I was just suggesting it as a possible solution for discussion."
"I see," Tambu commented. "Very well, does anyone else have anything they'd like to add to this proposal?"
Cowboy, the lanky captain of the Whiplash, rose slowly to his feet.
"Ah'd like to add a thing er two to what Whitey said. My paw, he used to be a policeman, and I learned a lot listenin' to him ta
lk over dinner."
"Is that how you managed to dodge the law for so long?" someone quipped from the back of the room.
Cowboy shrugged and smiled, drawing a round of laughter from the assemblage.
"Anyway," he continued, "Paw used to say anytime there was a fight, both sides would insist the other side started it. Usually they weren't even tryin' to cover up or anythin'; they really believed it was the other folks doin". More often 'n not, my paw never could sort out whose fault it really was."
He paused to look around the room.
"Now Ah'm not sayin' it's always our fault when there's a fight, but Ah don't think we kin always say it's the Groundhogs' fault neither. What's more, Ah don't think that even if we tried to investigate each problem that anyone'd believe we was bein' fair and impartial. Heck, Ah don't think we'd believe it ourselves."
"But we can't just ignore it!" Blackjack roared, surging to his feet again. "Just because I don't have a plan doesn't mean we should just sit back and do nothing. Our crews are being discriminated against. We owe it to them to take some kind of firm action."
Several voices rose in both support and protest, but Tambu cut the growing pandemonium short.
"Jelly," he said, "I believe you're next as soon as we have some quiet."
"Thank you, sir." The old man bowed as the voices died down around him. "I would contest Mr.
-
Blackjack's last comment, I do not feel our crews are being singled out for special treatment."
There were several growls at this; but for the most part, the audience held its peace, waiting for the old captain to have his say.
"Mr. Cowboy's father was a policeman. Well, I was a policeman, too. Incidents such as those which have been recounted here, beatings, attempted rapes, minor extortion by spaceport personnel, are not unique to members of our fleet. Police blotters are filled to overflowing with such cases, and have been since long before our fleet was established. The areas we most often frequent planetside-the bars, the places of amusement which surround the spaceports-have always experienced a higher than average occurrence of such crimes. I feel we are reacting emotionally because our friends and families are directly involved. I am concerned, as all of you are, but I cannot believe we are victims of a vast conspiracy on the part of the planets, or that the authorities sanction such activities against us."
"What about the times when the police have been directly involved with the beatings?" someone called angrily.
"Unscrupulous men in law enforcement uniforms are neither new nor rare," Jelly argued. "It is sad, but a part of reality. I still feel it is the work of individuals rather than of some sanctioned group."
"That's real pretty, Jelly," Ramona challenged, "but I don't buy it. My crew and I have been cruising the starlanes for a long time and had our share of hassles with the Groundhogs, but nothing like we've been getting lately. You can't convince me that what's been happening is just random street violence."
Tambu raised his eyebrows. Until now he hadn't been aware of how deep Ramona's feelings ran on this subject.
Individual arguments were raging among the captains again as he cleared his throat to restore order. This time, however, someone beat him to it.
"Shut up! All of you!"
The naked rage in the voice cut through the clamor like a sword stroke, and the captains abruptly lapsed into silence and gave ground from its point of origin. Exposed by the crowd's parting was a pixie-ish woman, standing tall on a chair. Her skin was poisonously mottled, marking her as a victim of New Leprosy. Though hers was an arrested case, many still felt uneasy in her presence.
"The chair recognizes A.C.," Tambu smiled.
The irony of his voice was lost on the stormy woman as she launched into her tirade.
"Never in my entire life have I heard such crybaby moaning and weeping," she announced bluntly. "Screw what Cowboy and Jelly are saying. I'll give you what you want to hear: 'We're being picked on... discriminated against.' So what!"
The assembled captains sat in stunned silence as she continued.
"Most of you don't know what discrimination is," A.C. challenged. "Well, I do. For eleven years now I've been a New Leper. No matter what laws have been passed, that's still a stigma I have to live with. Jelly here's a black. He's been discriminated against so long he doesn't even notice it anymore. A lot of you are other things that some people don't like: Orientals, Jews, witches, women, young, old, smart, dumb. You don't get hassled working for Tambu and instead of being grateful, you get spoiled rotten. You forget how unfair reality is!"
She dropped her eyes and took a deep breath as if trying to calm herself.
"You're discriminated against because you're different," she said softly. "You all are-your crews are. You ride around on ships instead of working in a hardware store down the street. You're transients on any planet, outside the local order. That makes you different. That's all it takes to have people envy, fear, and hate you all at once. You can't change that by breaking heads, just like you can't change that by acting nice and polite. You don't change it at all. You learn to live with it."
A.C.'s head came up and her voice hardened.
"There are only two options to that. You can be stampeded into damnfool useless action, letting any ignorant spaceport bum who mouths off or takes a swing at you control your actions, or you can tuck your tails between your legs and quit. I don't know about the rest of you, but it'll take a lot worse than what I've heard today before I holler for help or quit. If any of you or your crews can't take a few lumps in stride, I say good-bye and good riddance. Go ahead and fold, but don't try to justify your own weakness by asking the whole fleet to follow suit."
There was total silence when A.C. sat down. Tambu waited several moments, then cleared his throat.
"I think I've heard enough discussion to reach a decision," he announced. "Until further notice, my orders on the matter are this: any incidents or complaints concerning fleet members and planetside citizenry are to be reviewed as individual isolated affairs and will be resolved in cooperation with planetside officials. While fleet members are allowed and expected to defend themselves if attacked, no retaliation in excess of the affront will be tolerated. Should there be any doubt as to the proper course of action in such an incident, or if a question arises as to interpretation of these orders, a priority call will be made to me so that I can personally guide the decision."
Tambu paused for a moment as he always did before concluding a ruling.
"Any captain who feels he cannot obey this order or enforce it within his crew rosters should signify it at this time. If a majority of captains so object, I will either reconsider my order or step down as fleet commander. If those objecting are in the minority, they will be removed from the rosters of the fleet. Those who do not object are thereby accepting the order and will be subject to discipline if it is breached. Dissenters, show yourselves at this time by standing."
There was a shifting of chairs as the captains craned their necks to look around the room, but no one stood.
"Very well. As the hour is late, I adjourn the meeting for today. I believe the Raven's crew has prepared refreshments for you, but remember, we reconvene tomorrow at 0800 hours, shiptime."
With that, he clicked off his console and sagged back in his chair. Though a decanter of wine was just a few steps away, he was too weary to fetch it. All energy seemed to drain out of him as soon as he adjourned the meeting.
He was suddenly aware that his shirt was drenched with sweat, and shook his head in dull recognition of the emotional output necessary to control these meetings. The fleet was a tiger--a multi-headed, multi-personalitied tiger. It would turn on the planets, on itself, or on him if he relaxed his control, however briefly. Like a wild-animal trainer, he only had his belief in his own goals and abilities to buoy him, and that only gave him limited control. If he tried to clamp down too hard, all hell would break loose.
Leaning back, he began to mentally review the arguments
surrounding the fleet's planetside difficulties. He always did this after a major decision, probing for prejudices or hasty thought on his part, as well as any lingering resistance or resentment among the captains. Later, he would review the actual recordings of the meeting, but for the first pass he relied on his memory and impressions.
Cowboy's oration had been disappointing. His argument had supported Tambu's position of inaction, but in this case that support was annoying. From numerous arguments in the months prior to the meeting, Tambu knew that Cowboy personally favored retaliation, yet today he had spoken in favor of moderation.
A generous interpretation of the lanky captain's change of heart would be that his opinions had been over ruled by his crew, and that he was speaking today as their representative. A more probable explanation supported criticism voiced by both Ramona and Whitey as to the value of the yearly meetings.
They steadfastly maintained that most of the captains-particularly the newer ones-were not voicing their true feelings in the discussions, but rather attempting to curry favor with Tambu by saying what they thought he wanted to hear. While Tambu argued firmly that this was not the case, he had to admit to himself that he had no way of knowing for sure-and hearing Cowboy contradict himself made him wonder anew if he was deluding himself as to the sincerity of the captains' statements.
An insistent chiming interrupted his thoughts, and he looked to his console. The priority call light flashed red, drawing a frown to his face.
There was supposed to be a ban on personal conferences for the duration of the meetings, sparing him the annoyance of captains "stumping" for support of their proposals. For a moment he considered ignoring the call, then he noticed it was coming from the Raven. Was there trouble among the captains? A duel?
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