“It did cross my mind,” the reporter admitted uneasily. “I assumed you were trying to impress me.”
“There was that,” Tambu laughed, “but there was also another, much more important reason: all my flagships, including the one you’re on now, are rigged to self-destruct either from the captain’s cabin, or by a remote signal from me. The explosives on board are sufficient to cause severe damage to any ships in firing range at the time of detonation. If your request for an interview had been a ploy to lure me or one of my ships to a predetermined point for an ambush, the appearance of a dreadnought-class flagship would have been a nasty surprise for the hunters. If the waiting ships were of sufficient size or numbers to trap and capture a dreadnought, the captain was under orders to trigger the self-destruct mechanism. It would have been a costly but necessary example for anyone who might entertain similar thoughts of entrapment.”
“I thought the crew seemed awfully glad to see me,” Erickson muttered, licking his lips nervously. “So I’m sitting here on a bomb that might go off at any time. That’s certainly incentive for me to keep this interview short.”
“Please, Mr. Erickson, there is nothing to worry about. I mentioned the self-destruct mechanism as an example of our defensive arrangements, not as a threat to you. Take as much time as is necessary.”
“If you say so,” the reporter murmured doubtfully. The conversation was taking a dubious tack, and he was eager to change the subject.
“You’re upset,” Tambu observed. “If you’d care for a drink, there is a bottle of Scotch on the table by the bathroom sink, along with glasses and ice. ‘Inverness’ I believe it’s called. Feel free to help yourself.”