"That last part you didn't actually predict," Erickson pointed out bluntly. "As I recall, your prediction was that they would disband."

"Frankly, I didn't think they would be intelligent enough to adapt," Tambu admitted. "Of course, it's always a mistake to underestimate your opponent. In this case, however, consider it a minor error as it doesn't really matter. The settled universe is big enough for both fleets-particularly now that the Alliance has come to its senses and abandoned its aggressor role."

"You seem very sure of yourself."

"Do I? Yes, I suppose I do. It's a habit I've gotten into over the years. I often wish I was as confident as I sound."

"I suppose that's necessary in a command position."

"Quite so. Nothing is as certain to guarantee disaster as if a crew panics-and nothing will panic a crew faster than fear or uncertainty in the leaders over them. The higher you get in the chain of command, the more certain you have to appear. As the head of the fleet, part of my job is to appear infallible."

"Yet you've already admitted your own fallibility."

"There is a great difference between being infallible and seeming infallible, Mr. Erickson. While there is a great pressure on me to be infallible, fortunately, seeming to be infallible is all that is actually required."

Erickson added wryly, "Along with everything else, I must admit that before I had this opportunity to speak with you, I never stopped to think of how grueling your position actually must be. Everything you've told me so far is testimony to the constant demands on your energies and time. What I can't understand is how you stand it. How do you put up with the unending pressure?"

"The answer to that is quite simple, Mr. Erickson," Tambu replied easily. "I don't. To survive unchanged and unscarred would require a superman-and, as I have been trying to assure you, I'm quite human. Often painfully so."

Ramona awoke alone in Tambu's bed. She groped for his warmth for a few moments, then sleepily burrowed back into her pillow, assuming that he was in the bathroom. Poised on the brink of unconsciousness, her mind registered a small noise on the far side of the cabin. She snuck a lazy peek through her lashes, then blinked her eyes fully open.

The cabin was bathed in a ghostly light, illuminated by the starfield on the console's viewscreen. Silhouetted by the light, Tambu sat naked at the console, staring at the screen.

Ramona frowned as her mind struggled to analyze what she was seeing. This was highly unusual. Occasionally their sleep would be interrupted by a late-night call from a distraught captain, but then Tambu would deal with them in abrupt, terse tones, and return immediately to bed. He slept and loved seldom enough that when he did, he clung to it with an almost savage intensity. He was constantly either engaged in activity or sleeping. Sitting up quietly at night was something new for him.

"What is it, love?" Ramona called, stretching sleepily.

The figure at the console made no move to respond or to acknowledge her question.

"Tambu? Hey!"

Concerned now, she crawled to the foot of the bed and rose, moving to his side.

"Tambu?" she asked again, touching his shoulder lightly.

He turned his head and focused on her as if seeing her for the first time. "Oh! Sorry, love. Did I wake you?"

"What is it?" she pressed, ignoring his question. "Is something wrong?"

"Not really," he shrugged. "I just made a decision, is all. A hard decision."

"A decision? What is it? You haven't said anything about a major decision in the works."

"Believe it or not, I don't tell you everything," he smiled weakly. "No. This is a personal decision, one I've been thinking about for some time now."

"If you're going to tell me, tell me. Otherwise, let's go back to bed."

"Didn't mean to be melodramatic," he apologized. "It's just that it's been a rough decision to make. I didn't want to-I'm doing it again."

He ran a hand through his hair, then raised his gaze to look her squarely in the eye.

"You see, I've decided to retire. I'm going to step down as head of the fleet."

Ramona stared at him, started to speak, then sank down in a chair shaking her head.

"I-I'm sorry, love," she managed at last. "You caught me off guard. This is kind of sudden."

"Not for me," Tambu proclaimed grimly. "It's been on my mind for a long time now."

"Then you're serious?" Ramona asked incredulously, still trying to deal with his statement in her own mind. "You're really going to retire?"

He nodded slowly.

"I've got to. I've been seesawing back and forth for years, but now I don't even think I've got a choice anymore."

There was something in the tone of his voice--something new. Her shock at his decision was swept aside by a wave of concern for his well-being.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she offered gently.

For several moments he didn't respond; then he turned back to her with a sigh..

"I suppose I should. A lot of people are going to be asking a lot of questions when I make my decision public. I might as well get some practice explaining in advance."

He lapsed into silence again, frowning and pursing his lips. Ramona waited patiently.

"You know, it's funny," he said at last with a nervous smile. "I've been thinking about this so long, I could go through the problem in my sleep, but now that I've got to verbalize it, I don't know where to start."

"I'm not going anywhere," Ramona soothed, drawing her legs up under her. "Take your time and start anywhere."

"Well," he sighed. "For openers, look at this."

He extended a hand at chest height, fingers spread loosely.

Ramona peered at it, but saw nothing unusual. She shot a cautious glance at him and found him frowning at his hand.

"That's funny," he mused to himself. "A while ago, it was shaking like a leaf. I couldn't stop it."

"I know," Ramona nodded.

"I've seen it before," she explained. "When you were sleeping. Sometimes you'd lie there shaking all over. I always thought it was fatigue from pushing yourself so hard. You know how sometimes I nag you about getting more sleep? Well, that's why. I get really worried about you."

"I get worried about me, too," Tambu acknowledged. "But it goes a lot deeper than fatigue. It's the main reason I'm quitting."

He paused again. Ramona waited.

"I'm tired, love," he said softly. "Not just physically, get-some-sleep tired, I mean tired all the way through. I'm tired of making decisions, tired of giving orders, tired of speaking out, tired of not speaking out... tired of being Tambu."

"I'd say you've got a problem," Ramona observed with mock judiciousness. "I mean, when Tambu gets tired of being Tambu, where does that leave the fleet?"

"I'll let you in on a deep, dark secret, Ramona," Tambu announced wearily. "Perhaps the most closely guarded secret in the fleet."

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."