“That’s it? That was your laugh of the day?”
“Well, I suppose it doesn’t sound like much,” Tambu admitted, crestfallen. “You would have had to have been there.”
“I just don’t think it’s all that surprising that he didn’t recognize you. You’ve changed a lot, you know.”
“How so?”
“I didn’t mean that as a criticism. It’s just that since you’ve been coordinating things for several ships instead of one, you’ve taken on different mannerisms. Your voice has a no-nonsense ring of command to it that wasn’t there when we first met.”
“I haven’t been aware of any changes,” he protested.
“You’re too close to see it,” she pointed out. “But you’re taking to command like a duck takes to water. You may have started out playing a role, but now you’re it. You’re the boss, the chief, the old man. There’s a distance between you and everyone else, and it shows in how you talk.”
“You mean that now, as we’re talking here, I’m putting on airs?” he challenged.
“Not so much now when we’re in the same room,” Ramona conceded. “But when you’re talking to me over the viewscreen, I can feel it. And it isn’t putting on airs-it’s just a clear knowledge of who orders and who follows.”
“You make me sound awfully dictatorial.”
“It isn’t overt,” Ramona insisted. “But there’s no doubt in anyone’s mind that there’s an iron hand in that velvet glove. Nobody ever forgets you’ve done what no one else even thought of trying-building a united fleet from a bunch of individual ships.”
“I’ll have to think about that,” Tambu sighed thoughtfully. “I thought I was just doing what had to be done to keep the fleet together.”