"All right," he sighed, shooting a covert glance at the console's call board. "But wake me up again in a couple of hours."
"I'll try once after six hours. But if you won't budge, I'll let you get another four."
"Under no circumstances more than eight," he insisted. "Even if you have to throw ice water on me. I've got to get this problem resolved."
"Agreed," Ramona nodded, rising to her feet. "I'll run down to the galley and swipe a couple of sandwiches for you. If you doze off, they'll be here on the side table when you wake up-and quit looking at the call board! I'm giving orders to put any incoming calls, on hold until you wake up."
"Not the blinkers!" Tambu ordered, his head coming up with a snap. "I'm not going to lose a ship because I need a little sleep!"
Ramona chewed her lip.
"Can I try to do a little screening?" she asked hesitantly. "We both know that some of the captains abuse the emergency priority to get your attention."
"Very well," Tambu agreed wearily. "But I want to take any genuine emergencies."
"I know." Ramona stooped to give him a quick kiss. "That's why you're top dog in this outfit."
He remained seated at the console for several minutes after her departure, pondering the true nature of his current status. Was he top dog? He didn't feel like it. There was no power or joy in his routine-only incredible fear.
It was as if he was at the controls of a ground skimmer with the throttle jammed wide open, trying desperately to avoid obstacles darting at him from the distance, fighting certain knowledge that eventually he would react too slowly or steer in the wrong direction. The longer he survived, the faster the skimmer was going, making the inevitable crash that much more terrible when it finally came.
With effort, he closed his mind against the image. Ramona was right. He needed sleep, if only to steel his nerves.
He was stretching his legs, preparing to rise from his seat, when a chime sounded and a light came on the console.
Tambu smiled as he looked at the signal. Ramona was slipping. The light was red, but not blinking. Either she hadn't issued her orders yet, or a call managed to slip past her blockade.
His eye fell on the indicator, and his smile faded abruptly. The call was from the Raven! From Whitey! I Whitey had never used a priority signal of any kind.
Without thinking, his hand went to the transmission switch.
"Tambu here," he said even before the signal appeared on his screen. "What's the problem, Whitey?"
Whitey's face appeared on the screen, her features frozen in a mask of anger.
"Tambu?" she asked. "I want to know what's going on!"
"About what?" Tambu blinked, then it all came back to him. Of course! That's what Whitey would be calling about.
"All right," Whitey snapped. "If you want to play games, we'll take it from the top. I was just down on Elei making our sales pitch. They were receptive-very receptive for a planet that had never agreed with our position before. They were so receptive, in fact, they wouldn't even let me talk. They just signed up-said they'd pay whatever we asked."
"And you want to know why," Tambu finished for her.
"I asked them why," Whitey spat. "And you know what they said? They said they were paying so my ship wouldn't burn their capital."
Tambu ran his fingers wearily through his hair, but didn't interrupt.
"Of course I laughed at that," Whitey continued bitterly. "I told them I was one of Tambu's captains and that Tambu doesn't operate that way. You know what they said to that?"
"They told you about what happened on Zarn," Tambu answered tonelessly.
For several moments Whitey stared at him out of the screen, her anger melting into hurt puzzlement.
"Then it's true?" she finally asked in a soft voice. "I was hoping they were lying-or had been lied to."
"It's true," Tambu admitted.
"And you want to know why I'm calling?" Whitey demanded, her anger returning in a rush. "What's going on in the fleet? We never agreed to anything like this."
"I doubt they told you the whole story," Tambu began.
"How many ways can you read the facts?" Whitey interrupted. "One of our ships burns out a whole city-a city that has no way of fighting back. How can anybody justify that?"
"Nikki's dead," Tambu said softly.
"Nikki? Puck?" Whitey blinked. "What happened?" j
"He went to pay a call on the Planetary Council, much j as you did on Elei," Tambu explained. "It seems they not only refused our services, they were exceptionally unpleasant about it. Among other things, they stated that their planet was going to bar their spaceport to any of our ships."
"But spaceports are open to any ship, regardless of origin!" Whitey protested.
"That's right," Tambu confirmed. "But the Council seemed ready to overlook that detail, along with numerous other niceties humans usually extend to each other-niceties that usually transcend planetary or racial differences. Anyway, to keep a long story short, Puck lost his temper and told him what he thought of them and their decisions. He was complete enough in his oration that he finished it by spitting on the floor, whereupon the Council guards shot him down in cold blood."
"Good God!" Whitey gasped. "What did they do to the guards?"
"Nothing," Tambu replied grimly. "Not only were the guards not disciplined, the Council had his body delivered back to the ship's shuttlecraft with the message that he was to be taken off-planet for burial. I believe the specific quote was they 'didn't want him or scum like him on their planet, alive or dead.' Shortly thereafter, his ship opened fire on the capital."
"You're sure he didn't attack them physically?" Whitey pressed.
"He was alone and unarmed, Whitey," Tambu said softly. "When they carried his body through the streets to the spaceport, the crowds cheered the guards and spit on his body."
"How do you know all this if he was alone?" Whitey challenged.
"From reports submitted by our informants who were there at the time. I've even got copies of the official reports of the incident prepared by the Council guardsmen. Most of my time since the blow-up has been spent piecing the facts together and checking them."
"You mean you ordered the strike before you checked the story?" Whitey exploded.
"I didn't order it at all, Whitey. I didn't even approve it."
"You didn't?" Whitey's face showed a mixture of relief and concern. "Then who did?"
"Puck's second in command-with the full support of the crew." Tambu sighed. "Puck was a very popular captain."
Whitey rubbed her forehead absently as if trying to erase her frown wrinkles.
"I still don't think they were justified, hitting the whole city that way," she said at last.
"They didn't mean to hit the whole city," Tambu said quietly. "They were trying for the Council Building. It might have worked, except for two things. Nobody has any experience shooting at a planetside target from space. They missed-missed badly. They also underestimated the devastation caused by weapons designed for long-range work in space."
They both lapsed into silence again, each lost in their own thoughts.
"I wish you had told me sooner," Whitey commented finally. "It was bad, hearing it the way I did. I don't know which was worse; the news itself or hearing from someone outside the fleet."
"I'm sorry," Tambu said sincerely. "I've been trying to put together a new policy statement for general release, and it isn't easy. I've been trying to alert any captain due for planetfall, but the Raven wasn't due at
Elei for another two days."
"Puck was a friend of mine," Whitey observed dryly. "You might have made an exception to your rules in this case."
"I said I was busy!" Tambu snarled. "What do you think I do with my time? Sit on my butt and play darts? I would have called you if I could, but I couldn't. There were more important things to do. I don't like saying that, but that's the way it is. The good of the fleet has to take precedence over my personal friendships."