The commander eyed him for a moment.
“Lieutenant Armstrong,” he said at last, “are you trying to change the subject?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, forget it. I want to know what happened to the reporter.”
“She’s being held in her room under guard; sir. Also her cameraman. In adjoining rooms, that is, sir.”
“What?”
Even though Phule had been half expecting the answer, he was nonetheless stunned.
“It was all we could think of to keep her from-“
“You kidnapped a member of the interstellar press? Against her will?”
“It seemed impractical to wait until we could do it with her will, sir.”
The commander shot a hard look at his junior officer, but Armstrong never cracked a smile.
“All right, Lieutenant. While you’re coming up with clever answers, perhaps you can explain to me why I wasn’t informed of this when I woke up and came back on the floor. I believe it was your shift then?”
“I started to tell you, sir,” Armstrong said, still holding his deadpan expression. “At the time, however, you were getting ready to lead the expedition to confine the casino manager in his room … against his will. If the captain will recall, I asked for a moment of his time, and was asked if it was important.”
Phule frowned, vaguely recalling the brief exchange. “And you didn’t think this was important?”
“I assumed the captain was asking if my question was time sensitive, and in my best judgment, it wasn’t. The captain should recall that at that point, the reporter had already been confined for several hours, and I did not think that a few more hours would significantly change the situation, or her mood … sir.”