"There are," Erickson admitted.

"Then allow me to give you a bit of advice. Or rather, share a philosophy which has helped me when I find myself preoccupied with past mistakes. When I review a decision which turned out bad, I remember it was just that... BAD. "B"... "A"... "D". Best Available Data. I made the best decision I could, based on the data available, within the time perimeters allowed for the decision. Even though the results may not have gone as I predicted, or as I would have liked, I console myself with the memory of that moment of decision. Given the same situation, the same information, and the same amount of time to reach a decision, I would probably choose the same course of action again."

"That makes sense." The reporter nodded thoughtfully. "Thank you."

"Actually, it's an old accounting expression. But I find it applies readily to other fields as well."

"Getting back to an earlier statement," Erickson pressed, suddenly aware of the interview. "You mentioned having to overcome many difficulties in your career. While it is obvious they would be there, I can only imagine what they must have been. What were some of the specific difficulties you encountered?"

"They are literally too many to count, Mr. Erickson." Tambu sighed wearily. "At times it seems all I've encountered were difficulties. Sometimes I wonder whether I would have started this project originally if I could have looked into the future and seen the difficulties involved... if I had known then what 1 know now."

"Once you made that decision, how soon did you begin encountering difficulties?"

"Almost immediately. Things one takes for granted suddenly become obstacles when confronted by them directly. For example, there was the basic task of outfitting our ship for combat..."

"I don't like it, Dwight," Whitey cast a dark glance around the gloomy bar.

"It's Tambu. Remember?" He took a leisurely sip from the glass in front of him.

"I don't care if you call yourself the Queen of May," Whitey snapped. "I still don't like it."

The bar was a typical dive, indistinguishable from hundreds of its fellows which cluttered the streets around any spaceport. Its clientele was composed mainly of crewmen on leave and ground crews, with a few drab locals holding court at the grimy tables along the walls. A tired-looking whore was perched at the bar conversing with the bartender, her drooping breasts threatening to slip free of her low neckline when she laughed.

"I admit it's not what you'd call a class place," Tambu conceded. "But we're not here to deal with genteel folk."

"That's not what I meant," Whitey scowled. "I've been in worse places."

"Are you still worried about Puck? I don't like it either. Leaving a one-man watch on board ship is asking for trouble, but there wasn't any other way. All three of us had to be here for this deal: you for the technical expertise, me for the negotiating, and Egor for protection. It's dangerous, but it's the only way we could handle it."

"That isn't it, either."

"What then?"

"It's this whole business. When I agreed to go along with this pirate-hunter bit, I didn't figure it would mean skulking around like a common criminal."

"It's only a temporary situation," Tambu assured her. "Just until we get the ship outfitted. Until then we don't have much choice."

"Sure we do. We could buy our weaponry through normal channels, like other ships do."

"No we can't, Whitey. The kind of weapons we want can't be picked up through normal channels."

"But other ships-" Whitey began.

"Other ships buy antiquated weapons which haven't helped them at all in stopping a pirate attack." Tambu broke in pointedly. "We aren't cruising around hoping the pirates won't spot us, we're going to actively hunt them. For that, we'll need weapons as good or better than the ones the pirates use."

"I suppose you're right."

"I know I'm right. We've tried a dozen weapons dealers and gotten the same answer everywhere. 'Weapons of that nature are not available.' Then they try to sell us some popgun or other with toothy reassurances that it will be enough to protect us in most situations. Twice we've been told about the black market in arms here on Trepec, so here we are. If we can't find what we're looking for here, we'll just have to look somewhere else. We can't risk going into battle with inferior weapons."

"We could opt against going into battle."

"Not a chance," Tambu insisted. "The first time we try to move in on a pirate, they're going to fight--particularly if they think we're overmatched in the weapons department. I wish it wasn't the case, but that's the hard facts of the matter."

"What I meant was that we could decide to give up the whole idea of pirate hunting."

Tambu leaned back in his chair and studied her carefully.

"What's bothering you, Whitey? We've gone over this a hundred times. The four of us. You were in favor of it then, and now suddenly you're against everything... the weapons, the fighting, pirate hunting... everything. What happened? Have you changed your mind?"

"I don't know," Whitey admitted. "I was never that wild about the idea, but the three of you kind of swept me along-especially you, Mr. Tambu. You can be awfully persuasive. Now that we're actually moving on the plan... I don't know. I guess I'm just scared."

"You can still deal yourself out if you want to," Tambu offered gently.

"I'm not that scared." Whitey broke into a smile. "Who knows what kind of trouble you three would get into if I wasn't there to watch over you. No, I may grumble a lot, but I'm still in."

"You're sure I'm not 'persuading' you again?"

"I'm sure, but don't laugh about your power to convince people. I was serious about that. You have a way about you... I don't know what it is, that wins folks over to your way of thinking. If you weren't so honest, you'd make an incredible con-man."

Tambu protested, "I hate to argue with you, Whitey, but you're wrong. Maybe you're susceptible to my logic, but not everyone is. I remember a couple of girls-twins, in fact-that Egor and I made a play for on Isle, who weren't persuaded at all. Neither were their parents-or the police, for that matter. We were lucky our captain interceded for us, and he stepped in only because he didn't want to lose two crewmen-not because I convinced him to."

"Speaking of Egor, where is he?" Whitey interrupted, peering at the door. "Shouldn't he be back by now?"

"Don't worry about Egor. He can take care of himself. He's just not particularly good at keeping timetables. Except for that, he's dependable to a flaw."

"If you say so. There! You did it again!"

"Did what again?"

"Convinced me not to worry with just a few words. That's what I'm talking about. You could calm a cat in the middle of a dog show."

"Not any more than anyone else could. Sometimes I can, sometimes I can't. It's no big thing."

"You don't believe that any more than I do." Whitey snorted. "If you didn't think you had an edge on most people, why did you come along specifically to handle the negotiations on this deal?"

"Because I'm a little better with numbers than most. Except for that..."

"And you talk a lot better than most. You know when to push and when to back off. That counts for a lot."

"I suppose you're right," Tambu admitted. "But why make such an issue out of it? You have a feel for the mechanics of a ship that makes me feel like a kid. Each of us has something we can do better than someone else. So what?"

"The difference is I work with machines and you work with people," Whitey said. "I know what I'm doing and what to expect in the way of results. I don't think you do."

"Probably not," Tambu admitted. "But I still don't see why you should get upset about it."