The Songs of Distant Earth by Arthur C. Clarke Page A

as a 20-year old Earth-person. The Lassan calendar starts at First Landing, which was 3109 ET. The current year is 718TT or 754 Earth years later.
    5. Finally — and we can also be thankful for this — there is only one Time Zone to worry about on Thalassa.
    Sirdar Bey (Capt.)
    3864.05.26.20.30 ET
    718.00.02.1 5.00 TT

    “Who would have thought anything so simple could be so complicated!” laughed Mirissa when she had scanned the printout pinned up on the Terra Nova Bulletin Board. “I suppose this is one of the famous Beybolts. What sort of man is the captain? I’ve never had a real chance of talking to him.”
    “He’s not an easy person to know,” Moses Kaldor answered. “I don’t think I’ve spoken to him in private more than a dozen times. And he’s the only man on the ship who everyone calls “Sir” – always. Except maybe Deputy Captain Malina, when they’re alone together … Incidentally, that notice was certainly not a genuine Beybolt – it’s too technical. Science Officer Varley and Secretary LeRoy must have drafted it. Captain Bey has a remarkable grasp of engineering principles – much better than I do – but he’s primarily an administrator. And occasionally, when he has to be, commander-in-chief.”
    “I’d hate his responsibility.”
    “It’s a job someone has to do. Routine problems can usually be solved by consulting the senior officers and the computer banks. But sometimes a decision has to be made by a single individual, who has the authority to enforce it. That’s why you need a captain. You can’t run a ship by a committee – at least not all the time.”
    “I think that’s the way we run Thalassa. Can you imagine President Farradine as captain of anything?”
    “These peaches are delicious,” Kaldor said tactfully, helping himself to another, though he knew perfectly well that they had been intended for Loren. “But you’ve been lucky; you’ve had no real crisis for seven hundred years! Didn’t one of your own people once say: “Thalassa has no history – only statistics”?”
    “Oh, that’s not true! What about Mount Krakan?”
    “That was a natural disaster – and hardly a major one. I’m referring to, ah, political crises: civil unrest, that sort of thing.”
    “We can thank Earth for that. You gave us a Jefferson Mark 3 Constitution – someone once called it Utopia in two megabytes – and it’s worked amazingly well. The program hasn’t been modified for three hundred years. We’re still only on the Sixth Amendment.”
    “And long may you stay there,” Kaldor said fervently. “I should hate to think that we were responsible for a Seventh.”
    “If that happens, it will be processed first in the Archives’ memory banks. When are you coming to visit us again? There are so many things I want to show you.”
    “Not as many as I want to see. You must have so much that will be useful for us on Sagan 2, even though it’s a very different kind of world.” (“and a far less attractive one,” he added to himself.)
    While they were talking, Loren had come quietly into the reception area, obviously on his way from the games room to the showers. He was wearing the briefest of shorts and had a towel draped over his bare shoulders. The sight left Mirissa distinctly weak at the knees.
    “I suppose you’ve beaten everyone, as usual,” Kaldor said. “Doesn’t it get boring?”
    Loren gave a wry grin.
    “Some of the young Lassans show promise. One’s just taken three points off me. Of course, I was playing with my left hand.”
    “In the very unlikely event he hasn’t already told you,” Kaldor remarked to Mirissa, “Loren was once table-tennis champion on Earth.”
    “Don’t exaggerate, Moses. I was only about number five – and standards were miserably low towards the end. Any Third Millennium Chinese player would have pulverized me.”
    “I don’t suppose you’ve thought of teaching Brant,” Kaldor said mischievously. “That should be