“Then the captains have been deliberately trying to create the impressions they have?” the reporter blinked.
“Certainly. First of all, a captain is an administrator. If a captain tried to tell you about drudgery and paperwork involved in his job, you’d lose interest. Instead, they tell you all about the dangers of space, the ship-to-ship duels, and the harrowing escapes they’ve had–much of which is simply rehashings of stories they’ve read in adventure novels.”
“And of course reporters like me eat it up,” Erickson smiled appreciatively. “Tell me, do you think this editing of information is unique to ship captains?”
“Not at all. I feel it’s a normal human tendency. If I asked you to tell me what it was like being a reporter, would you tell me about having to write stories about things that didn’t interest you, while older, less capable reporters got the prime assignments? Or would you regale me with tales about gathering news under dangerous conditions and bravely exposing the truth despite the pressures of a corrupt establishment?”
“Touch‚! It sounds like you know the news business.”
“I know people,” Tambu corrected. “I have to. In your line of work, if you make an error in judging people, you lose a story. If I make an error, people die. It’s a great incentive for me to get to know people as well as is humanly possible.”
“Yet you still make mistakes,” Erickson noted quickly.
“Too often,” Tambu admitted. “But then, at the stakes I’m playing at, one mistake every five years is too often.”