"Yes? We don't elect our leaders, Starbuck. Any time you think you want the job, you can try to take it."
Starbuck blanched. "I didn't mean it that way. I was only giving my opinion."
"Don't, unless you're prepared to defend it—and yourself."
"I'm sorry." But Starbuck's eyes were smouldering.
"Get back to the encampment, then. I'll expect you here with the rest of our people day after tomorrow. Can't make up your mind where you belong, can you?" Keleher pointed with amusement to the buckskin kneepads.
"I know you're trying to goad me," Starbuck whined.
"Maybe."
"You don't like me."
"As a type, Starbuck. Personally, I'm indifferent."
That was goading of a more subtle sort, but it was lost on Starbuck. Diane's indifference would irk him; Keleher's indifference was at times preferable. "We ought to be friends," Starbuck boomed. "I'm generally recognized as your second in command."