He looked over both shoulders with melodramatic suspicion, then leaned forward to whisper in her ear.
"You see, I'm not Tambu."
"Really?" Ramona gasped, mimicking his manner. "Well, while I am shocked and horrified, I must compliment you sir, on your excellent impersonation. You look, talk, walk, drink and make love just like him. I never would have guessed if you hadn't revealed yourself."
"I'm serious," he replied with no trace of levity. "I'm not Tambu."
Ramona studied him thoughtfully for a moment.
"Okay, I'll play your game. If you aren't Tambu, who are you?"
"I'm a space bum," he announced. "A space bum who had an idea to get himself and his friends out of a bad situation. Part of the idea-a very small part-was to take on an assumed name: Tambu. By itself, the new name created no problems. But them something happened. The space bum and his friends-and a few new friends-decided to build a mythical figure around the name Tambu. You remember, love. You were there at the time."
Ramona nodded dumbly.
"It was ridiculously easy to do," he continued. "We've been conditioned by literature, Tri-D adventures, and other entertainment forms to recognize a heroic figure. All we had to do was provide a few high points and hide any contradictory information, and people would complete the picture themselves. They would see Tambu as a powerful, omnipresent, charismatic leader they could trust and follow. He must be! Otherwise, why is everybody else following him?"
Ramona dropped her eyes and gnawed on her lip. She looked up again as Tambu laid a gentle hand on her arm.
"Don't feel bad, love," he chided. "You didn't force me into anything I didn't want to do. It was a con game, and one I went along with willingly. Why not? It was fun. It was kind of like having the lead in a play, and I played my role to the hilt."
He leaned back again, his expression becoming more serious.
"The trouble is, the play never ended," he said in a low voice. "We never had the curtain call, when the players came out onstage and said 'Hey, look! We're just actors. What you've seen is just make-believe made momentarily plausible by master illusionists.' Because we've never clarified our position, the audience has accepted the illusion as reality, and by that acceptance made it reality."
"Slow up a little, love," Ramona said, shaking her head. "You lost me on that last curve."
"Let me try it from a slightly different angle. Any actor or con artist-or even a salesman-will tell you that to be successful, you have to believe what you're doing. Well, to be Tambu, I had to project myself into that character. I kept asking myself, 'What would a powerful person do in this situation?' 'What would a charismatic leader say to that problem?' I did that for years, until Tambu became more familiar to me than my own character. I got so I could do Tambu without thinking, purely by reflex. Do you see what I'm saying? I became Tambu, but Tambu isn't me!"
"I see your point," Ramona acknowledged. "But couldn't you also say Tambu is just another phase of your own development? I mean, I don't think you've done anything as Tambu that you would have been morally against in your earlier life. In a lot of ways, he's simply a projection of yourself."
"I don't know anymore," Tambu sighed. "And that's why I feel I've got to get out. Lately I find myself saying and doing things as Tambu that go completely against my grain. If I keep going, I'm afraid I'll lose myself to him completely."
"What things went against the grain? Just to satisfy my curiosity."
"Little things, mostly. But things that bother me. Remember the last captains' meeting? When Egor told us about Whitey getting killed. Part of me-the original me-wanted to get sick when I heard that. I wanted to walk away from the screen and hide for a couple of days-cry, get drunk, anything to ease the pain I felt. I mean, in a lot of ways, Whitey was like the sister I never had. She was patient, critical, supportive-more than a friend to me in every way. When I found out she was dead, and how she died, it hit me hard. So what did I do? I gave her a one-line eulogy and then told everyone her death didn't matter. That wasn't me talking, that was Tambu. Our opinions and reactions differed, and his won."
"But you were trying to make a point," Ramona argued. "An important point about not fighting the Defense Alliance. Not only was the news of Whitey's death distracting, it could have undermined your arguments by raising emotions against the Alliance. You should take that into consideration."
"Should I?" Tambu smiled. "You know that original me I keep talking about? You know what he felt about the whole matter? He was with the captains! He wanted to go out there and smash the bastards in the Alliance and anyone else who dared to take up arms against us. That's what he wanted, but Tambu wouldn't allow it, just like he wouldn't let the captains go off half-cocked. That's the rest of my problem. I can't ease off on Tambu, let him develop into what I was originally. The fleet needs Tambu-a cold mind with an eye for the overview. If I let the original me-the one I'm fighting to save-take over the fleet, it would be disastrous. I've got to make the choice: either stay with the fleet as Tambu, or save myself and leave."
"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."
"That sounds more like the Tambu I know," Ramona said eagerly. "What's the plan? I'm all ears."
"Well... not all ears," Tambu smiled, leaning forward to caress her lightly.
"Stop that!" She slapped his hand. "You'll get me all distracted, and I want to hear this master plan of yours."
"See what I mean about my job getting in the way of my personal life?" Tambu signed in mock dejection.
"Are you going to tell me the plan or not?"
"Well, I got the idea from an item on the agenda for the next captains' meeting," Tambu began.
"Swell! I haven't seen a copy of the agenda yet."
"I know. I haven't distributed them yet."
"Tell me the plan!"
Tambu yawned. "As I was saying before I was interrupted, there is an item on the agenda calling for the formation of a Captains Council. The general idea is to select a dozen or so captains, each of whom will meet with small groups of ships throughout the year. Then, at the yearly meeting, they will represent the ships in the policy arguments with me. It's an attempt to avoid mob scenes like last year's meeting when there were too many captains, all trying to talk at once on every subject."