Tambu Read online

  "You want my views?" A.C. snarled. "I'll give you my views. I think a Council of Captains would be a waste of time. I think these meetings are a waste of time, and a Council would only compound it. I think we should quit wasting our time and let Tambu get on with his business of running the fleet."

  She sat down to a rising tide of protests. Clearly her speech was not popular with the other captains.

  "I'd like to reply to that, if I might," Tambu interjected his voice through the din.

  "I'm sorry, boss," Ramona apologized, "there are a couple of speakers ahead of you. Remember, it was your rule!"

  A ripple of laughter greeted this, mixed with a few catcalls. But Tambu was not upset. Things were still going according to plan. Ramona had agreed that he should try to interrupt after the first speaker, only to be blocked by the discussion leader. It provided a bit of comic relief, while at the same time setting a precedent for later discussions. Top man or not, Tambu was not to be allowed to interrupt at will. More important, the discussion leader could stop him without fear of repercussions.

  "Jelly?" Ramona was saying. "Would you care to speak next?"

  Tambu frowned slightly as the old man rose to his feet. He wouldn't have chosen Jelly to speak next. The aging captain was still sharp enough mentally, not to mention highly respected, but he tended to be deathly slow when speaking. The pace of the meeting was bound to suffer with Jelly's speaking so early. Still, he was Ramona's choice, and Tambu was going to have to get used to things being handled differently during these discussions.

  "I must take exception to Captain A.C.'s comments," Jelly was saying. "These meetings serve several functions, one of which is to force the captains to hear each other. When we do, we find that our views and opinions are shared by many others, and it becomes unnecessary for each of us to speak. This avoids repetition, and saves Tambu the trouble of hearing the same suggestion or complaint forty or fifty times."

  He paused to clear his throat, coughing slightly.

  "Excuse me. As to the Captains' Council," he continued, "this is also something which could potentially save us considerable time. If for example, a problem-"

  He broke off suddenly, coughing hard and clutching at his chair for support.

  Tambu bolted upright, staring at the screen as the room dissolved into chaos. He reached for his mike--but before he could speak, the viewscreen went blank.

  He froze, blinking at the screen in disbelief. This was impossible! Communications equipment simply didn't break down. In the years of the fleet's existence, there had never been a failure of communications gear-on any ship.

  Moving quickly, Tambu punched out a familiar combination of buttons and a view of immediate space filled with the ships of the fleet sprang to life on the screen. That gave him some assurance. At least the problem wasn't with his gear. Something must be malfunctioning with the equipment on the Scorpion. Strange that it should happen just as there was a disruption in the meeting... or was it a coincidence?

  Tambu frowned, trying to reconstruct the scene in his mind. Had Jelly been the only one coughing? He had a flashing impression of people moving away from Jelly during the commotion-not towards him, as would be the normal reflex.

  Shaking the thought from his mind, Tambu made a few adjustments to his controls and tried the Scorpion again.

  "Calling the Scorpion.! This is Tambu. Come in, Scorpion."

  To his relief, the response was almost immediate. The display, however, was not of the captains' meeting. Instead, there was a bearded man on the screen with a tangle of dark, unkempt, shoulder-length hair. Tambu noted several features in the cabin behind the man, and realized he was in Egor's private quarters.

  "Scorpion here, sir," the man announced. "We've been expecting your call."

  Tambu did not recognize the man immediately and there was something in his tone which hinted of disrespect. But the situation was too pressing to prolong the conversation.

  "If you're expecting my call," he snapped, "then you probably know what's going wrong. Assign someone to repair the viewscreen in the meeting room immediately. Tell Captain Egor to declare a recess until the screen is functioning. Then have him report to me."

  "There's nothing wrong with the viewscreen in the meeting room," the man informed him tensely. "We deliberately overrode the transmission."

  A flash of anger shot through Tambu.

  "We?" he barked. "Who is 'we,' and by what authority do you-"

  "We are the crew of the Scorpion," the man interrupted. "And it is my pleasure to inform you that we've just taken control of the ship."

  Tambu's mind reeled. A mutiny! Devilishly well timed, too!

  Almost without thinking, his hand activated the computer tie-in to the console, seeking the identity of his adversary in the fleet's personnel files. The search was thankfully brief, and the information appeared on a small supplemental data screen.

  "I see," he said quietly, hiding his agitation. "Tell me, Hairy... it is Hairy, isn't it? With an 'i'? Just what do you and your friends hope to accomplish with this takeover? You're completely boxed in by the fleet, you know. I don't see much chance of your escaping."

  "We-we just want a fair deal," Hairy stammered, visibly shaken by Tambu's recognition.

  "A fair deal?" Tambu frowned. "You'll have to be a little clearer than that, Hairy. I was under the impression you already had a fair deal."

  "Maybe that's what you call it," Hairy snarled, his nervousness overcome by his anger. "But we don't see it that way."

  "Don't you think this is a bit extreme?" Tambu chided him. "There are formal channels for registering complaints. I fail to see why you feel you have to resort to such drastic methods to make your feelings known."

  "Normal channels!" The man spat. "Normal channels haven't been open to us. That's one of our complaints. Our last petition to the captain got torn up in front of us. When we've tried to complain to you, either the captain hasn't relayed the messages, or you've ignored them completely."

  Memories flooded Tambu's head. Memories of Egor's numerous calls, assaulting him with tales of his crew's discontent. Memories of Tambu telling him to handle it himself.

  "We've even tried complaining to crews from other ships when we met them," Hairy continued. "We told them to pass the word to their captains, hoping it would reach you indirectly. That didn't get us anything but more grief when the other captains called Egor to criticize his handling of his crew."

  "If the situation is as bad as that, why don't you just resign?" Tambu asked.

  "Resign?" Hairy snorted. "Cheese tried to resign. The captain killed him outright. After that, no one's tried to resign. We don't get leave planetside anymore, so we don't even have a chance to jump ship."

  "When was Cheese killed?" Tambu demanded. "I don't recall seeing a report on that."

  "The captain reported it as a suicide, and of course, no one thought to question his word."

  "So you devised this trick to get my attention," Tambu observed grimly. "When you plan a surprise for the captains, you don't kid around, do you?"

  "We figured since you only listen to the captains, the best way for us to be heard was to come between you and them," Hairy sneered. "You want to see how your captains' meeting is going?"

  The man leaned forward, reaching for his console's controls. Immediately the screen changed to display the Scorpion's meeting room. The captains were sprawled all over the room, some crumpled on the floor, others slumped in their chairs. No one was moving.

  "There are your precious captains," Hairy taunted, reappearing on the screen. "Amazing what a couple of canisters of knockout gas in the vent system can do, isn't it? All of them, sleeping like babies inside of thirty seconds."

  "You think that by holding the captains hostage, you can force me to let you and your shipmates leave the fleet?" Tambu asked levelly.

  "You've got us all wrong," Hairy protested. "We don't want to leave the fleet. If that was what we wanted, we could have jumped the captain any
time and just sailed away. No, we've talked to enough of the other crews to know the Scorpion has been the exception, not the rule in your fleet. We're willing to stay in the fleet-once we get a few of our differences resolved."

  "Very well," Tambu sighed. "If you revive the captains and allow them to finish their meetings, I'll extend immunity to you from reprisals. Furthermore, I'll give you my promise to personally look into the situation on board the Scorpion at my earliest possible convenience. Agreed?"

  "Not agreed!" Hairy shot back, shaking his head violently. "You aren't going to deal with us 'at your earliest convenience.' You're going to deal with us right now. What's more, the captains aren't going anywhere until after we've settled this. You don't seem to understand. We're dealing from a position of power. You don't tell us what to do, we tell you!"

  His words hung in the air, forever irretrievable. Unseen by Hairy, Tambu's eyes narrowed, and his expression froze into icy grimness.

  "Is that how it is?" he said softly. "And just what sort of orders do you and your pirates have in mind for me?"

  Any of the captains could have told Hairy that when Tambu's voice went quiet like that, it was a clear danger signal. What's more, the men never wanted Tambu to think of them as pirates. Unfortunately, the captains weren't there to advise Hairy at the moment.

  "Well," Hairy began confidently, "first we demand the right to choose our own captain. Even though we'll probably elect him from within our own crew, we want copies of your personnel files to see who else might be available and what their qualifications are. Second, we think the crews should have as much say in how the fleet is run as the captains do... including access to you for private conferences. Finally, we want your signature on an order to execute Egor for gross abuse of the authorities of a captain."

  "Is that all?" Tambu asked mildly.

  "Well, there are a lot of little things," Hairy admitted. "We each want a bonus to compensate us for what we've had to put up with serving under Egor-and there are some benefits we think every crewman in the fleet should have. We're still putting the list together. We figure we should make the most of this while we've got the chance."

  "What chance?" Tambu pressed.

  "The chance to call the shots for a change. If we set this up right, we can have a hand in all decisions from here on."

  "And if I don't agree, you'll kill the captains," Tambu said slowly.

  "You understand perfectly," Hairy leered. "You don't really have much of a choice, do you?"

  "I have a few." Tambu smiled. "There is one thing I don't understand, though. I think you may be laboring under a misconception. Who do you think you're talking to right now?"

  "Who?" Hairy blinked, taken aback by the question. "This is Tambu, isn't it? I mean, you said-"

  "That's right, sonny!" Tambu exploded, his voice cracking like a whip. "You're talking to Tambu! Not some sweaty planetside official who wets his pants when you rattle your saber. I'm Tambu, and nobody tells me how to run my fleet. Not the planets, not the Defense Alliance, not the captains, and definitely not some jackass who's throwing a tantrum because he thinks he's being treated badly."

  "But if you-" Hairy protested.

  "You think you're in a position of power?" Tambu snarled, ignoring the interruption. "Sonny, you don't know what power is. I'd give orders to burn an entire planet to cinders, people and all, before I'd let you blackmail me into turning the fleet over to you, and you try to bargain with a roomful of hostages? You're a fool, Hairy! If my mother was in that room, I wouldn't lift a finger to save her."

  Hairy's face was pale in the viewscreen. He no longer looked arrogant and confident. He looked scared.

  "If you try anything, we'll open fire on the fleet. There are a lot of ships in range of the Scorpion's guns, and their crews are all busy partying. We could do a lot of damage before we went down."

  The fleet! Tambu's mind raced as he searched his memory for the deployment of the ships around the Scorpion. There were none lying close to the mutineers' ship, but over half a dozen within the maximum range of its weapons. They were too far out to muster a boarding party before the Scorpion could bring its guns to bear. What's more, now that he was in contact with the mutineers, there was no way he could alert the fleet or order the endangered ships to disperse without Hairy's knowing he was planning something.

  Still, he couldn't surrender control of two hundred ships to save six ships any more than he could do it to save one ship-one ship!

  Slowly, his hand released the double lock on one of the levers on his console.

  "Hairy," Tambu said coldly. "You just made a big mistake, Hairy. I was willing to listen to your complaints because I think you've got a valid case. But I can't be nice to you anymore, Hairy. You just became a danger to the fleet."

  Hairy was panicky now. He wet his lips and tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  "Look at the console in front of you, Hairy. Do you see the red lever? The one with the double safety lock? Do you know what that is, Hairy?"

  "It's-it's the ship's self-destruct mechanism," Hairy managed at last.

  "That's right, Hairy. But did you know I can activate that mechanism from right here at my console? Did you know that, Hairy?"

  Hairy shook his head woodenly.

  "Well, you know it now! Game time is over, Hairy. You have five seconds to call your crew to assemble in front of that screen where I can see them all, or I activate the mechanism."

  Despite his firm declaration, Tambu was holding his breath, hoping. If the mutineers would only comply now-stand there so he could see they weren't manning the guns, leveling their sights on an unsuspecting fleet-

  For a moment, Hairy wavered. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his eyes darted to someone off-screen. Another voice called out, its words indistinguishable, but it seemed to strengthen Hairy's resolve.

  "You're bluffing," he challenged, his head coming up defiantly. "We've got all the captains on board. Even if you could do it, you wouldn't just-"

  "Good-bye, Hairy," Tambu said, lowering his hand to the console's keyboard.

  For a split second, Hairy's face filled the screen, his eyes wide with terror. Then, for the second time that day, the screen went blank.

  Immediately, Tambu rekeyed the display, and the view of the fleet reappeared-the fleet minus the Scorpion. There was no trace left of the meeting ship.

  The console's board lit up like a Christmas tree. The blinking red lights chased each other up and down the board as Tambu sat and stared. Idly he noted in his mind which ships took the longest to call in.

  Finally, his mind focused and he lunged forward, gripping the mike with one hand as his other played rapidly over the console's keyboard.

  "This is Tambu," he announced. "All ships, cancel your calls and stand by for a fleetwide announcement."

  He waited as the call lights winked out.

  "There has been an explosion of unknown origin on board the Scorpion," he announced. "We can only assume there are no survivors."

  He paused for a moment to allow the message to sink in.

  "First officers are to assume command of their vessels immediately," he ordered. "You are to take the rest of the day for whatever services you wish to perform for the lost personnel. Starting at 0800 hours tomorrow, I will contact each of you individually to assist in reorganizing your crews as well as to issue specific orders and assignments. Those ships closest to the Scorpion have one hour to conduct a damage inspection of their ships. After that, they are to call me with a status report. Acknowledge receipt of message by responding with an amber call."

  He watched as the board lit up again. This time the lights were all amber-all but one. The Scorpion would never call in again.

  "Tambu out."

  The fleet secure, Tambu slumped back in his chair as the enormity of his deed washed over him.

  Gone! All of them. Ramona, Egor, A.C., Jelly...all of them wiped out when he pressed a single button on his console.

  In his shock
-dulled mind, he realized he had lost his personal battle. When pressured, it was Tambu who controlled his actions, and Tambu had ended his last hope of retirement. He couldn't leave the fleet now. With the captains gone, there would be no one to pass control to. He would have to stay on, working with the new captains, reorganizing...

  He had lost. He was Tambu.

  The horror of that realization rose up and sucked him down... Tambu wept.

  INTERVIEW XII

  "I transferred ships shortly after that. I found my old quarters held too many memories for comfort. That pretty much brings us to the present. For the last two years, I have been training the new captains. The Council is now established and functioning, allowing me leisure time, which in turn enabled me to grant you this interview."

  "And the fleet never found out the actual cause of the explosion on the Scorpion?" Erickson asked.

  "Of course they found out. I told each of the new captains during their initial briefing. I felt it was a necessary lesson as to the possible repercussions of a poor captain-crew relationship."

  "Didn't anyone question what you had done?" the reporter pressed. "I mean, surely someone objected to your handling of the situation."

  "Remember our discussion of famous people, Mr. Erickson," Tambu instructed. "None of the new captains had ever dealt directly with me before. They had been suddenly thrust into a new position of responsibility, and were casting about for direction and approval. Preconditioned to view me with awe and fear, they readily accepted me as their authority figure, the only one between them and chaos. No one questioned my actions, but they eagerly learned the lesson of the disaster."

  "Of course, you've done nothing to encourage that awe and fear," Erickson said.

  "Quite the opposite," Tambu admitted easily. "I've done everything I could to build the image. Most of my work for the last two years has been establishing and maintaining the gap between myself and the fleet."

  "But why?" the reporter asked. "It seems you're not only accepting your isolation, you're creating it."