There was a warning tone in the big man’s voice that caught Tambu’s attention. Swallowing his annoyance, he leaned into the mike again to apologize.
“Sorry to be so abrupt, my friend, but these meetings always set me on edge. That’s part of why I avoid personal conferences until they’re over-it keeps me from taking my frustrations out on people close to me. What was it you wished to discuss?”
The anger drained from Egor’s face, and he dropped his eyes.
“I would like-I want you to relieve me of command,” he said softly.
Tambu’s annoyance flared anew, but he kept it out of his voice.
“Why?” he asked.
“These yearly meetings emphasize something we’ve both known for a long time now. I’m no leader. I don’t belong in the same room with these others.”
“You’re a captain, the same as they are,” Tambu retorted. “I fail to see the difference.”
“The other captains know their crews,” Egor protested. “When they talk at the meetings they speak as representatives of their ships.”
“And you?” Tambu pressed.
“My crew doesn’t like me. I don’t know their minds or how they feel on the issues. I can run a ship, but I’m clumsy with people. Please. I’m asking as an old friend. Put someone else in my place. Let me go back to crewing like I did before.”
“What makes you think the other captains know what their crews want?”
“It’s obvious. You can see it in their stance and hear it in their voices when they talk.”
“They don’t know their crews any better than you do,” Tambu declared harshly. “You’re confusing good oratory with good leadership.”