Egor frowned, trying to grasp the concept as Tambu continued.
“Look, Egor, a lot of those captains aren’t as sensitive as you are. It never occurs to them that their crew might have opinions. They speak their own minds and assume their crews are in agreement with them. A lot more know their crews don’t agree with them, but they don’t care. They’re the captains, and that’s that.”
“Are you sure?” Egor asked suspiciously.
“In my position, I can see it. If I were going to single out poor leaders for replacement, it would be those captains, not you. Most of them are Johnny-come-latelies who substitute words for action. Their records are so empty that they have to save their arms to call attention to each little victory. You’ve successfully commanded a ship for me for nearly five years now, Egor. Your record speaks for itself.”
“But my crew doesn’t like me,” Egor insisted with characteristic doggedness.
“I’m running a business, not a popularity contest!” Tambu exploded. “Can’t you get that through your head? Your crew is working because they’re getting paid, not because they have any great love for you-or me, for that matter. As long as they’re doing their jobs, then you’re doing yours. Beyond that I don’t want to hear about it.”
The words hung heavy in the air as Egor stared out of the viewscreen at him with a frozen expression.
“You’re right,” the big man said at last, not changing his expression. “I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
“Egor,” Tambu began, his anger gone, “my friend, I-“
“Don’t worry,” Egor interrupted levelly, “I’ll command my ship for you. I’ll command it for you until you remove me yourself. Egor out.”