Starborne

“Well, is there?” Paco asks. “You tell us.”

“Obviously there’s no one,” says Elizabeth. “He’ll have to be reelected.”

“You three have it very neatly worked out, don’t you?” Julia says.

Heinz gives her a quick look. “You don’t like it? Does that mean you’re volunteering to run again yourself?”

“You know I would, if I thought it would do any good. But I have to agree with you that if we took another vote, I wouldn’t be elected. He would.”

“And he will be,” says Heinz. “Just as he was last year.”

Huw says, “He’ll erupt. He’ll absolutely explode.”

“If we hand hima fait accompli ?” Sylvia says. “Simply tell him that he’s been reelected again by acclamation, and appeal to his sense of duty?”

“His sense of duty,” says Huw, “is directed entirely toward the exploration of the planets we discover. He didn’t sign on to be captain for life. It’s a job that’s supposed to rotate from year to year, isn’t it? So why would he let himself be stuck with it forever if it permanently disqualifies him from doing the one thing that he signed on to do?”

They consider that for a while. It’s a valid enough point; but in the end they agree that there’s no one else on board who can rally the necessary support. The year-captain has established himself in everyone’s mind as the captain-for-life; replacing him now with somebody else would have something of the quality of an insurrection. And who would they choose, anyway? Roy, Giovanna, Julia, Huw, Leon? Those who are qualified, even remotely, for the captaincy are either unwilling to take the job or else unsuitable by virtue of their existing responsibilities.

In the end, they decide quietly to canvass the ship’s entire complement and present the year-captain with the results of the tally. This is done; and the vote confirming his reelection is unanimous. Huw, Heinz, Julia, and Leon agree to be the members of the delegation that will bring this news to the year-captain. At the last moment Noelle, who has been present in the gaming lounge while this part of the operation is under discussion, asks to be included in the group.

“No,” says the year-captain instantly when he is apprised of what has been going on. “Forget it. Don’t waste your time even thinking about it. My term is coming to its end, thank God, and you have to start finding somebody else to be captain.”

“The vote, you know, was unanim—” Leon begins.

“So? What of it?” the year-captain demands, speaking over him. “Did anyone consult me? Did anyone take the trouble to ask me whether I was going to be a candidate for reelection? Which I most emphatically do not intend to be. I took this second term with the greatest reluctance and I’m not going to take a third term under any circumstances whatsoever. Is that clear?”

Of course it’s clear; it’s been clear to everybody for a long time. But they can’t accept his refusal, because the ship must have a captain, and no other satisfactory and electible prospect for that job is on the horizon. They tell him this, and he tells them once again how adamant he intends to be about his desire to give up his office, and for a time everyone is speaking at once. A great deal of heat is generated, but not much light.

In a moment of sudden stillness that pops with almost comic predictability into the general hubbub, Noelle’s quiet voice abruptly is heard for the first time: “Is the rule about not being able to be part of the landing expedition the thing that makes you not want to go on being captain?”

“Of course it is.”

“And that’s the only reason? There’s nothing else?”

He considers that for a moment. “Nothing of any real significance, I suppose.”

“Then why don’t we change the rule?” Noelle asks.

They all look thunderstruck by the sheer simplicity of her suggestion, even the year-captain. Leon is the first to speak, finally. “The rule isn’t just an arbitrary nuisance. Planetary landings are risky things, and we are under orders not to risk the life of the year-captain in adventures of that sort.”

“But if there isn’t going to be any year-captain at all unless we allow the one we have to take that risk,” Julia says, “then what good is the—”

“Besides,” Leon continues implacably, “we have all agreeda priori to abide by the terms of the Articles of the Voyage. We have no right to abrogate or modify any of those terms unilaterally. Without consultation with Earth, and the permission of—”

Now it is Noelle who cuts in. “There’s no way we can consult with Earth,” she points out. “The contact has been severed. You know that.”

“Even so,” says Leon, “we have an obligation to maintain and uphold—”

“What obligation? To whom?” Heinz says. And Huw calls out boomingly, “Hear, hear! Hear, hear!”

There is another round of hubbub. This time the year-captain restores order by rapping on the cabin wall with the flat of his hand until they are all silent.