“Your concern for the fleet is touching,” Ramona drawled sarcastically. “What happens to the fleet if you retire? You’ll be leaving a lot of friends holding the bag.”
“What friends?” Tambu challenged. “With the exception of you, I don’t have any friends left in the fleet. Puck, Whitey, even Blackjack, whom I never really liked, all of them are gone. Everyone else knows me as an authoritative voice on a blank viewscreen.”
“There’s Egor,” Ramona reminded him.
Tambu thought for a moment, then sighed.
“I suppose you’re right,” he admitted. “Egor and I are still friends, even though we haven’t gotten along too well lately. I still cover for him, and he still tries to be captain for me. It must be friendship. There’s no other reason for it.”
“But everyone else can go hang-if you’ll pardon the pun. You must be a different person. That doesn’t sound like Tambu at all.”
Tambu slumped back in his chair, his eyes downcast, but his hands balled into tight fists.
“You’re wrong, Ramona,” he said quietly. “I do care what happens to the fleet. That’s my problem. If I didn’t care, I could just take a shuttle down at the next planet, and never look back. I do care, though, so I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of a way to have my cake and eat it, too. I want to be able to save myself for myself, and at the same time ensure the fleet’s continued survival.”
“That’s a pretty tall order,” Ramona said. “I don’t see any way you could do it.”
“I’ve figured a way,” Tambu said quietly. “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be retiring. The fleet means a lot to me. I wouldn’t sell it down the river just to save myself.”