' think they'll fold within a year, two years at most...
' If-and it's a big if-If we don't make a mistake, and right now I think fighting them would be the biggest mistake we could make! If we destroy half their fleet, the other half will have a cause to fight for, and we'll never be rid of them. If we destroy their whole fleet-"
Tambu rubbed his forehead angrily.
"If we destroy their whole fleet, we'll be making martyrs of them all. The planets will field another fleet, and another-because then we'll have given them proof of what they've been saying all along: that we're gangsters, extortionists who will squash or try to squash anyone who butts in on our territory. That's why I say lean back and wait 'em out. Logically, it's the best plan."
The faces in the screen were mostly thoughtful, though there were several headshakings and scowls.
"That's logically. Emotionally, I feel a bit different."
The tone in his voice brought the heads up as if attached to strings.
"I'm Tambu. I hired and licensed every captain in that room for a peacekeeping force, and as long as my name's on it, that's what it's going to be! That's not subject to debate or a vote-that's the way it is. Period!"
He glared at them. Even though they couldn't see him, they could feel the intensity in his voice.
"Now, each of you signed on voluntarily. I can't force you to stay or to follow my orders. If you and your crews want to go caterwauling across the starlanes chasing the Defense Alliance, fine! Go ahead. You want to demand half of each planet's wealth and your pick of bed-partners? Okay! It's no skin off my nose. You want to gun down every Groundhog who spits in the street when you walk by? Go get 'em! But-"
His voice took on an icy hardness.
"But you aren't going to do it in my name or under the fleet's protection! Whether I command two hundred ships or a hundred... or ten, or even one, the weapons at my command belong to a peacekeeping force; and if you cross my path with your games, we'll burn you down like we would any other pirate. For the record and for your information, that is my emotional solution, and you're right! It's not going to change!"
He paused and looked at the still, silent figures in the viewscreen.
"Now that that matter's settled," he finished conversationally, "I'll adjourn the meeting for today. Think it over, talk it over. Talk to your crews. Anyone who's leaving can contact me through normal channels to settle their severance pay. For those who are staying, we'll reconvene at 0800 hours tomorrow and see how much of a fleet we have left. Tambu out."
INTERVIEW X
"I take it most of them stayed with the fleet," Erickson observed.
"All of them did. It caused me a bit of concern at the time."
"How so? I should think you would have been pleased that they came around to your way of thinking.
"Perhaps. If I had really believed that I had changed their minds. As it was, I knew that several of the captains were dead set against my plans. If a few ships had left the fleet at that time, I might have been able to kid myself into believing that those remaining were in agreement with me. As it was, I was left knowing that I had serious dissenters in the ranks, and that trouble could flare up at any time."
"And did it?" Erickson urged.
"It did and it does," Tambu answered. "For specific examples, you need only look at your backfile news-tapes. Every ship-to-ship battle that's taken place in the last three years has been the result of someone disobeying orders-in one fleet or the other. I repeat my earlier statement: neither the Alliance High Command or I want our ships to fight. We're making a good living from the status quo, and any combat, win or lose, costs too much."
"But the Alliance was formed to destroy your fleet," the reporter protested.
"They were formed to protect the planets, just as we were," Tambu corrected. "At first they thought they could best do that by destroying us. As I predicted, they found they couldn't do it, and instead settled into a pattern of preventive patrol."
"That last part you didn't actually predict," Erickson pointed out bluntly. "As I recall, your prediction was that they would disband."
"Frankly, I didn't think they would be intelligent enough to adapt," Tambu admitted. "Of course, it's always a mistake to underestimate your opponent. In this case, however, consider it a minor error as it doesn't really matter. The settled universe is big enough for both fleets-particularly now that the Alliance has come to its senses and abandoned its aggressor role."
"You seem very sure of yourself."
"Do I? Yes, I suppose I do. It's a habit I've gotten into over the years. I often wish I was as confident as I sound."
"I suppose that's necessary in a command position."
"Quite so. Nothing is as certain to guarantee disaster as if a crew panics-and nothing will panic a crew faster than fear or uncertainty in the leaders over them. The higher you get in the chain of command, the more certain you have to appear. As the head of the fleet, part of my job is to appear infallible."
"Yet you've already admitted your own fallibility."
"There is a great difference between being infallible and seeming infallible, Mr. Erickson. While there is a great pressure on me to be infallible, fortunately, seeming to be infallible is all that is actually required."
Erickson added wryly, "Along with everything else, I must admit that before I had this opportunity to speak with you, I never stopped to think of how grueling your position actually must be. Everything you've told me so far is testimony to the constant demands on your energies and time. What I can't understand is how you stand it. How do you put up with the unending pressure?"
"The answer to that is quite simple, Mr. Erickson," Tambu replied easily. "I don't. To survive unchanged and unscarred would require a superman-and, as I have been trying to assure you, I'm quite human. Often painfully so."
CHAPTER TEN
Ramona awoke alone in Tambu's bed. She groped for his warmth for a few moments, then sleepily burrowed back into her pillow, assuming that he was in the bathroom. Poised on the brink of unconsciousness, her mind registered a small noise on the far side of the cabin. She snuck a lazy peek through her lashes, then blinked her eyes fully open.
The cabin was bathed in a ghostly light, illuminated by the starfield on the console's viewscreen. Silhouetted by the light, Tambu sat naked at the console, staring at the screen.
Ramona frowned as her mind struggled to analyze what she was seeing. This was highly unusual. Occasionally their sleep would be interrupted by a late-night call from a distraught captain, but then Tambu would deal with them in abrupt, terse tones, and return immediately to bed. He slept and loved seldom enough that when he did, he clung to it with an almost savage intensity. He was constantly either engaged in activity or sleeping. Sitting up quietly at night was something new for him.
"What is it, love?" Ramona called, stretching sleepily.
The figure at the console made no move to respond or to acknowledge her question.
"Tambu? Hey!"
Concerned now, she crawled to the foot of the bed and rose, moving to his side.
"Tambu?" she asked again, touching his shoulder lightly.
He turned his head and focused on her as if seeing her for the first time. "Oh! Sorry, love. Did I wake you?"
"What is it?" she pressed, ignoring his question. "Is something wrong?"
"Not really," he shrugged. "I just made a decision, is all. A hard decision."
"A decision? What is it? You haven't said anything about a major decision in the works."
"Believe it or not, I don't tell you everything," he smiled weakly. "No. This is a personal decision, one I've been thinking about for some time now."
"If you're going to tell me, tell me. Otherwise, let's go back to bed."
"Didn't mean to be melodramatic," he apologized. "It's just that it's been a rough decision to make. I didn't want to-I'm doing it again."
He ran a hand through his hair, then raised his gaze to look her squarely in th
e eye.
"You see, I've decided to retire. I'm going to step down as head of the fleet."
Ramona stared at him, started to speak, then sank down in a chair shaking her head.
"I-I'm sorry, love," she managed at last. "You caught me off guard. This is kind of sudden."
"Not for me," Tambu proclaimed grimly. "It's been on my mind for a long time now."
"Then you're serious?" Ramona asked incredulously, still trying to deal with his statement in her own mind. "You're really going to retire?"
He nodded slowly.
"I've got to. I've been seesawing back and forth for years, but now I don't even think I've got a choice anymore."
There was something in the tone of his voice--something new. Her shock at his decision was swept aside by a wave of concern for his well-being.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she offered gently.
For several moments he didn't respond; then he turned back to her with a sigh..
"I suppose I should. A lot of people are going to be asking a lot of questions when I make my decision public. I might as well get some practice explaining in advance."
He lapsed into silence again, frowning and pursing his lips. Ramona waited patiently.
"You know, it's funny," he said at last with a nervous smile. "I've been thinking about this so long, I could go through the problem in my sleep, but now that I've got to verbalize it, I don't know where to start."
"I'm not going anywhere," Ramona soothed, drawing her legs up under her. "Take your time and start anywhere."
"Well," he sighed. "For openers, look at this."
He extended a hand at chest height, fingers spread loosely.
Ramona peered at it, but saw nothing unusual. She shot a cautious glance at him and found him frowning at his hand.
"That's funny," he mused to himself. "A while ago, it was shaking like a leaf. I couldn't stop it."
"I know," Ramona nodded.
"I've seen it before," she explained. "When you were sleeping. Sometimes you'd lie there shaking all over. I always thought it was fatigue from pushing yourself so hard. You know how sometimes I nag you about getting more sleep? Well, that's why. I get really worried about you."
"I get worried about me, too," Tambu acknowledged. "But it goes a lot deeper than fatigue. It's the main reason I'm quitting."
He paused again. Ramona waited.
"I'm tired, love," he said softly. "Not just physically, get-some-sleep tired, I mean tired all the way through. I'm tired of making decisions, tired of giving orders, tired of speaking out, tired of not speaking out... tired of being Tambu."
"I'd say you've got a problem," Ramona observed with mock judiciousness. "I mean, when Tambu gets tired of being Tambu, where does that leave the fleet?"
"I'll let you in on a deep, dark secret, Ramona," Tambu announced wearily. "Perhaps the most closely guarded secret in the fleet."
He looked over both shoulders with melodramatic suspicion, then leaned forward to whisper in her ear.
"You see, I'm not Tambu."
"Really?" Ramona gasped, mimicking his manner. "Well, while I am shocked and horrified, I must compliment you sir, on your excellent impersonation. You look, talk, walk, drink and make love just like him. I never would have guessed if you hadn't revealed yourself."
"I'm serious," he replied with no trace of levity. "I'm not Tambu."
Ramona studied him thoughtfully for a moment.
"Okay, I'll play your game. If you aren't Tambu, who are you?"
"I'm a space bum," he announced. "A space bum who had an idea to get himself and his friends out of a bad situation. Part of the idea-a very small part-was to take on an assumed name: Tambu. By itself, the new name created no problems. But them something happened. The space bum and his friends-and a few new friends-decided to build a mythical figure around the name Tambu. You remember, love. You were there at the time."
Ramona nodded dumbly.
"It was ridiculously easy to do," he continued. "We've been conditioned by literature, Tri-D adventures, and other entertainment forms to recognize a heroic figure. All we had to do was provide a few high points and hide any contradictory information, and people would complete the picture themselves. They would see Tambu as a powerful, omnipresent, charismatic leader they could trust and follow. He must be! Otherwise, why is everybody else following him?"
Ramona dropped her eyes and gnawed on her lip. She looked up again as Tambu laid a gentle hand on her arm.
"Don't feel bad, love," he chided. "You didn't force me into anything I didn't want to do. It was a con game, and one I went along with willingly. Why not? It was fun. It was kind of like having the lead in a play, and I played my role to the hilt."
He leaned back again, his expression becoming more serious.
"The trouble is, the play never ended," he said in a low voice. "We never had the curtain call, when the players came out onstage and said 'Hey, look! We're just actors. What you've seen is just make-believe made momentarily plausible by master illusionists.' Because we've never clarified our position, the audience has accepted the illusion as reality, and by that acceptance made it reality."
"Slow up a little, love," Ramona said, shaking her head. "You lost me on that last curve."
"Let me try it from a slightly different angle. Any actor or con artist-or even a salesman-will tell you that to be successful, you have to believe what you're doing. Well, to be Tambu, I had to project myself into that character. I kept asking myself, 'What would a powerful person do in this situation?' 'What would a charismatic leader say to that problem?' I did that for years, until Tambu became more familiar to me than my own character. I got so I could do Tambu without thinking, purely by reflex. Do you see what I'm saying? I became Tambu, but Tambu isn't me!"
"I see your point," Ramona acknowledged. "But couldn't you also say Tambu is just another phase of your own development? I mean, I don't think you've done anything as Tambu that you would have been morally against in your earlier life. In a lot of ways, he's simply a projection of yourself."
"I don't know anymore," Tambu sighed. "And that's why I feel I've got to get out. Lately I find myself saying and doing things as Tambu that go completely against my grain. If I keep going, I'm afraid I'll lose myself to him completely."
"What things went against the grain? Just to satisfy my curiosity."
"Little things, mostly. But things that bother me. Remember the last captains' meeting? When Egor told us about Whitey getting killed. Part of me-the original me-wanted to get sick when I heard that. I wanted to walk away from the screen and hide for a couple of days-cry, get drunk, anything to ease the pain I felt. I mean, in a lot of ways, Whitey was like the sister I never had. She was patient, critical, supportive-more than a friend to me in every way. When I found out she was dead, and how she died, it hit me hard. So what did I do? I gave her a one-line eulogy and then told everyone her death didn't matter. That wasn't me talking, that was Tambu. Our opinions and reactions differed, and his won."
"But you were trying to make a point," Ramona argued. "An important point about not fighting the Defense Alliance. Not only was the news of Whitey's death distracting, it could have undermined your arguments by raising emotions against the Alliance. You should take that into consideration."
"Should I?" Tambu smiled. "You know that original me I keep talking about? You know what he felt about the whole matter? He was with the captains! He wanted to go out there and smash the bastards in the Alliance and anyone else who dared to take up arms against us. That's what he wanted, but Tambu wouldn't allow it, just like he wouldn't let the captains go off half-cocked. That's the rest of my problem. I can't ease off on Tambu, let him develop into what I was originally. The fleet needs Tambu-a cold mind with an eye for the overview. If I let the original me-the one I'm fighting to save-take over the fleet, it would be disastrous. I've got to make the choice: either stay with the fleet as Tambu, or save myself and leave."
"Your concern for the f
leet is touching," Ramona drawled sarcastically. "What happens to the fleet if you retire? You'll be leaving a lot of friends holding the bag."
"What friends?" Tambu challenged. "With the exception of you, I don't have any friends left in the fleet. Puck, Whitey, even Blackjack, whom I never really liked, all of them are gone. Everyone else knows me as an authoritative voice on a blank viewscreen."
"There's Egor," Ramona reminded him.
Tambu thought for a moment, then sighed.
"I suppose you're right," he admitted. "Egor and I are still friends, even though we haven't gotten along too well lately. I still cover for him, and he still tries to be captain for me. It must be friendship. There's no other reason for it."
"But everyone else can go hang-if you'll pardon the pun. You must be a different person. That doesn't sound like Tambu at all."
Tambu slumped back in his chair, his eyes downcast, but his hands balled into tight fists.
"You're wrong, Ramona," he said quietly. "I do care what happens to the fleet. That's my problem. If I didn't care, I could just take a shuttle down at the next planet, and never look back. I do care, though, so I've been racking my brain trying to think of a way to have my cake and eat it, too. I want to be able to save myself for myself, and at the same time ensure the fleet's continued survival."
"That's a pretty tall order," Ramona said. "I don't see any way you could do it."
"I've figured a way," Tambu said quietly. "If I hadn't, I wouldn't be retiring. The fleet means a lot to me. I wouldn't sell it down the river just to save myself."
"That sounds more like the Tambu I know," Ramona said eagerly. "What's the plan? I'm all ears."
"Well... not all ears," Tambu smiled, leaning forward to caress her lightly.
"Stop that!" She slapped his hand. "You'll get me all distracted, and I want to hear this master plan of yours."
"See what I mean about my job getting in the way of my personal life?" Tambu signed in mock dejection.
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