Robert Asprin – Tambu

“All right,” he sighed, shooting a covert glance at the console’s call board. “But wake me up again in a couple of hours.”

“I’ll try once after six hours. But if you won’t budge, I’ll let you get another four.”

“Under no circumstances more than eight,” he insisted. “Even if you have to throw ice water on me. I’ve got to get this problem resolved.”

“Agreed,” Ramona nodded, rising to her feet. “I’ll run down to the galley and swipe a couple of sandwiches for you. If you doze off, they’ll be here on the side table when you wake up-and quit looking at the call board! I’m giving orders to put any incoming calls, on hold until you wake up.”

“Not the blinkers!” Tambu ordered, his head coming up with a snap. “I’m not going to lose a ship because I need a little sleep!”

Ramona chewed her lip.

“Can I try to do a little screening?” she asked hesitantly. “We both know that some of the captains abuse the emergency priority to get your attention.”

“Very well,” Tambu agreed wearily. “But I want to take any genuine emergencies.”

“I know.” Ramona stooped to give him a quick kiss. “That’s why you’re top dog in this outfit.”

He remained seated at the console for several minutes after her departure, pondering the true nature of his current status. Was he top dog? He didn’t feel like it. There was no power or joy in his routine-only incredible fear.

It was as if he was at the controls of a ground skimmer with the throttle jammed wide open, trying desperately to avoid obstacles darting at him from the distance, fighting certain knowledge that eventually he would react too slowly or steer in the wrong direction. The longer he survived, the faster the skimmer was going, making the inevitable crash that much more terrible when it finally came.