"Baldwin, Bill 01 - The Helmsman ch08" - читать интересную книгу автора (Baldwin Bill)
THE HELMSMAN
BY BILL BALDWIN
CHAPTER 8
In less than a metacycle, features of the arid surface began to define themselves-ragged mountains, dry riverbeds, the dim flicker of occasional cities. As the scout staggered deeper into the thin atmosphere, wisps of glowing plasma began to lick at the corners of the Hyperscreens, then spread rapidly to the hundred and one protrusions on the hull until they trailed a long, glowing corkscrew of ions like the meteor they had become. Gradually, Brim reduced his course perturbations, flying more and more in a controlled manner until finally, no more than ten thousand irals from the surface, he leveled off and flew a straight and level heading. "Universe!" he laughed, wiping mock perspiration from his brow, "with all that 'damage' to the steering gear, I didn't think I could bring her in at all."
Aft, Amherst slumped in a recliner, head lolling from side to side. "He's only passed out, Lieutenant," Barbousse reported.
"We're entering zone 5," Theada said presently, pointing below through the Hyperscreens. "It's sort of delineated by the mountains and that scar somebody once called a river."
"Very well," Brim replied as he cranked the ship in a wide circle. "Do you suppose that's Cable Route 981 running along the edge of the scarp?"
"Only one I can see," Ursis said. "Of course, who could tell in this desert?"
Brim's eyes followed the ground scar where the cable had been laid. About a third of the way to the mountains, two dust plumes crawled along the endless wastes. The second plume was considerably behind the first, but from its size, it was either a much larger vehicle or it was moving faster-or both. "If that first one's our spy," he said, pointing through the Hyperscreens, "he's going to have company very soon. Anybody see anything else moving?" he asked, easing the scout into a wide circle.
"None," Theada said as the ship returned to its original course.
"Just those two," Ursis agreed.
"All right," Brim said, "we'll go down for a closer look." He rolled the scout on its back, then nosed over into a steep dive that brought them above the second vehicle in a matter of ticks. "Ugh," he grunted aloud. Below was a typical Leaguer tank with three turrets, the kind that ambushed his little convoy back on A'zurn-only this one looked bigger, even from the air. "Let's check on the other one," he said, opening the power gates slightly. The distance evaporated.
"Open lorry," Ursis observed.
"With yellow canisters," Theada added.
"And an '8' on the roof of the cab," Brim finished. "It's our man, I'll bet. Send 'Which way is Avalon?'" he called back to Barbousse.
Only a few ticks later, his display flashed, "VOOT'S BEARD! YOUR SCOUT FOOLED ME. THOUGHT I WAS CAUGHT SURE. ALREADY GOT A TANK ON MY TAIL."
Only moments later, a huge column of dirt and flame shot up to the lorry's right as the tank began to pull in range. The scout bounced when the second blast followed on its heels-aimed this time at them. "CAREFUL," the BURST display spelled out. "POWERFUL TANK."
"So much for our cover," Brim muttered, hauling the scout around into a vertical bank toward the tank and pulling off the lift vector. They fell like a stone toward the desert floor with both cannon blasting wildly at the squat, ugly shape in the distance. Only a few irals from the ground, he whipped the little ship level and jammed on the power. All three Leaguer turrets were firing now. The scout bucked and bounced through the blasts; debris smashed off the Hyperscreens and rattled along the decks. Suddenly, a huge ball of fire from Barbousse's 9l-mmi erupted in front of the tank, sending a shower of rocks and debris hundreds of irals in the air. The big machine reared and skidded sideways in a cloud of dust, then resumed its progress at a somewhat reduced rate of speed, wobbling violently.
"Got his cable follower!" Barbousse yelled exultantly as they flashed overbead. But the tank's turrets were clearly unaffected and the firing continued almost unabated. Brim snapped the scout around and set up another low-level firing rim. This time, Barbousse found his target much earlier, and the whole area near the enemy vehicle exploded in a welter of powerful blasts...
Suddenly, a thundering detonation sent the scout skidding wildly off course with loose articles whistling about like shrapnel and the cabin acrid in swirling black smoke. A monstrous grinding shrieked through the starframe as the left outrigger touched down and skidded across the plain in a cloud-of dust and debris. Brim struggled with the controls, helplessly watching the scout slide into a ground loop, then the hull ricocheted from a flat outcropping of desert rock and somehow wobbled level, trailing a long column of dirty black smoke that thinned and disappeared as Ursis calmly manipulated the N-ray mains and extinguished the fires.
"Ninety-one's gone, Lieutenant," Barbousse yelled above the din. "Blew the whole ventral turret away, he did."
Brim continued to fight the controls, achieving first an even keel, then an immediate turn away from the tank with a maximum acceleration dash toward a run of low, rocky hills, the generators bellowing angrily in overload.
"What are we going to do now?" Theada yelled in frustration as they pulled into the lee of the palisades and set up a low holding pattern. "Our little 60-mmi won't even dent that armored cockroach-and the spy's still out there with nothing but a good head start."
Brim bit his lip, concentrated. Quickly. Quickly. "The mines!" he shouted. "Of course! Even a near miss ought to be enough to take a tank out for good. Right, Barbousse?"
Barbousse grinned. "One star mine coming up, Lieutenant," he said.
"Wait a cycle!" Ursis interrupted suddenly. "The spy-is he far enough from the blast zone? We don't want to take him out, too."
"Easily far enough by now, Nik," Theada answered. "Especially in this thin atmosphere. Remember, he was almost beyond the range of that tank-and those big hummers shoot a long way."
"Very well," Brim said through clenched teeth. "Here we go." Wind roared across the great rent in the bottom of their hull as he banked gently to let the speed build up. Then he cranked the little ship over into a dizzying vertical turn that barely cleared the barren hillside. Jagged rocks whizzed by only irals from their starboard generator. By the time the tank was back in sight, they were accelerating wildly and blending into the background. They took the big machine completely by surprise-in the last ticks, Brim pictured its crew huddled over the traction controls in an attempt to drive with no cable followers.
"Star mine's...free!" Barbousse yelled. Brim heard the hum of the repulsion rings, then the scout flashed over the tank-still accelerating. Two more near misses sent rock and debris over their stern before the whole world turned a blinding white-no shadows, no details, only white. The Hyperscreens dimmed, flashed on again.
And then the shock wave...
Incredible noise. Perhaps no noise-maybe all noise. The impact became an entire existence. One moment, they were speeding across the desert floor, the next, a giant hand smashed the little ship sideways like an insect. Brim struggled with the controls, easing the hull this way and that-instinct alone guiding his hands and feet as he fought to soften the shocks to the starframe. Then they were tumbling mindlessly through a gigantic storm of pure flame. Outside on the deck, only hullmetal survived-covers, attachment points, cables, all their accessories either burned or melted in long runnels along the deck. In the back of the control cabin, someone was screaming over the suit channel in the gagging, fright-choked voice of a wild animal. Brim glanced over his shoulder. It was Amherst, tears streaming from his cheeks, faceplate sprayed with spittle. Nothing he could do. He tried to ignore it.
Then, quickly as it came, the fire storm disappeared and they were once again flying in clear air. Amherst's insane screaming died to a series of wracked sobs, then faded to silence. "By Voot's meem-stained beard!" Ursis roared in glee. "It is possible we may yet survive in spite of our fearless Helmsman." The control cabin erupted in laughter-for a moment."
"COMM channels are going full tilt," Barbousse reported from aft. "I think the whole Universe is yapping at once. Maybe you'd better listen in, sir," he suggested.
Brim nodded. "Take the controls," he said to Theada, then brought up a COMM display. It took only moments to discover that every patrol craft in the vicinity was on its way at full speed. He squandered a few ticks to inspect the result of their mine. Most of the blast had gone upward, blowing out the top of the atmosphere. All that remained was a shallow, blackened crater perhaps a few thousand irals in diameter-that, and a still-rising pillar of dust and debris topped by a great roiling cloud with a curious wisp on its top.
"Looks like we stopped him," Theada commented dryly.
Brim nodded solemnly. "Yeah," he said, "scanning the terrain. In the distance, he found the little wisp of dust again and smiled grimly to himself. "All right, Truculents," he said, "let's go pick up our spy. We're going to have a lot of company in a very short time-and none of them will want to help.
Moments later, they were back over the lorry. "IF YOU'RE THROUGH PLAYING WITH THAT TANK, LET'S GO HOME," the spy sent.
Brim laughed. "Tell him we'll do that," he said to Barbousse as he eyed the cable right-of-way. It went straight as a die, all the way to the horizon. He nodded his head. "Send this as I say It," he ordered. "'Put the lorry on automatic. We must pick you up on the fly. Affirmative?'"
"YOU BET," appeared almost instantly in the BURST display.
Brim turned to Amherst, who was now awake and keeping a frightened silence in the recliner. "Will you help, Lieutenant Amherst?" he asked.
"Help you Carescrian? On this insane mission?"
"You could help," Brim said as he eased the ship over the speeding lorry.
"I shall help none of you!" Amherst hissed. "You are only doing this so you can show me in a poor light to my superiors." In the corner of his eye, Brim watched the First Lieutenant fold his arms and close his eyes.
"He is no longer with us, Wilf Ansor," Ursis growled.
Brim nodded. "Very well," he said. "Nik, do you feel reasonably strong today?"
"Strong enough," came the reply. "What is it I can do?"
"I need somebody out there by the boarding ladder to help me bring this crate alongside the lorry-then lend a hand when our spy climbs on board. Feel up to that?"
"Unless our spy is too fat to lift, Wilf Ansor," the Bear laughed. Brim heard him pull his helmet on.
"Just in case we do get a fat one," Theada interrupted, "I think I'll join Nik out there, if that's all right with you, Wilf."
"I would welcome the assistance," Ursis said.
"Go to it, Jubal," Brim replied with a grin. Presently, the two appeared on E607's open utility deck, leaning into the wind and clipping their safety cords to eyelets built into the deck. Each had a coil of cushioned life-saving cable over his shoulder.
Then there was time for nothing but concentration. He made a final thrust adjustment, pulling above and to one side of the speeding lorry. His scout was nearly sixty irals in length and twenty wide-the spy's lorry little more than a third in any dimension. He made no attempt to delude himself concerning the difficulty of the job-this one would make barge piloting look easy! Starship's weren't made for precision work at low speeds and navigational tolerances measured in rrals. It would take only one sideswipe by his gravity pods and the whole trip would be wasted. He concentrated on the lorry, flying by instinct alone. "How are we doing out there, Nik?" he asked into the short-range COMM.
The Bear peered over the rail. "A little too far left, Wilf," j he said, "but just about the right height."
Gingerly, Brim nudged the controls to starboard.
"A couple of irals closer yet," the Bear said. "You can tell him to open the door now, but it's still too far to jump."
"Send, 'Open your door,'" Brim ordered Barbousse, then nudged the controls still further starboard.
"Watch!" Ursis said sharply, holding a warning hand aloft. "That's almost enough."
This time, Brim willed the ship's change.
"Perfect," Ursis declared. "Hold it right there. He's got the door open. I'm going to throw him the end of this rope. Tell him to tie it under his shoulders."
"Got it," Brim said through clenched teeth, half afraid to move for fear of bumping the ship into disaster. "Send, 'Tie the cable securely under your arms,'" he said to Barbousse. A moment later, Ursis lofted the coil.
"Missed!" the Bear growled in frustration.
"Proximity warning's beginning to flash, Lieutenant," Barbousse called out. "We'll have company any cycle now."
"Very well," Brim acknowledged. But there was nothing he could do as he watched Ursis coil the cable for another try. It was now-or it was never for the spy. If he was going to escape from this planet, he would have to fly the ship out in the next few cycles.
Again, the Bear lofted his coil. Brim gritted his teeth. "Please don't miss," he whispered to himself.
"He got it that time," Ursis said, relief sounding clearly in his voice. "And he's tying it under his arms. Can you move just a little closer again, Wilf? We've drifted a few irals."
"Wilf!" Theada suddenly screeched. "Pull up. An overpass! Dead ahead!"
Brim looked up-even at their low ground speed, the bridge was only a few ticks distant. "Hang on to that rope, Nik" he yelled, then, "Barbousse, tell him to jump, now!" After that, he had no more options. He waited approximately one more tick, then bunted the ship over the bridge, flinging both Ursis and Theada to the limits of their safety cords as he zoomed over the top. He heard Ursis grunt from the shock.
"Don't lose him, Nik," Theada whispered in a strangled voice as he fought to wrap the cable around himself. "I've got it now. You go pull him aboard!"
The spy-dressed in a nondescript Leaguer space suit-was now clinging desperately to the ship's rail with both hands and feet as Ursis arrived at his side. Less than a tick later, the Bear hoisted him to safety, and all three struggled out of view toward the air lock.
Brim immediately hauled the little starship around on a low-altitude trajectory perpendicular to the cableway, watching the lorry speed away in the distance. Considerable time would elapse before someone discovered anything wrong with that, he thought-as if it mattered anymore! Every ship in the League seemed to be on its way to investigate the explosion of Barbousse's star mine.
Then his thoughts were abruptly shattered by Ursis' deep bass voice, which-normally placid in all circumstances-was strangely reduced to little more than an awed whisper.
"Princess Effer'wyck, Your Majesty," the Bear stammered over the suit circuit. "W-What in the name of the Great Mother Bear are you doing here?"
The name struck Brim like a thunderbolt. "Margot?" he called over his shoulder incredulously.
"Wilf?" a weak but unmistakable voice answered in surprise.
"Margot! Universe!"
"Jubal," Ursis growled, "perhaps you could take the controls while..."
"Oh...ah...yes. Right away, Nik," Theada said as he raced for the right-hand Helmsman's seat.
Heartbeats later, Brim lifted the Leaguer space helmet to reveal a tumble of golden curls. Margot's face was streaked with dust and perspiration. "Universe," he whispered again in amazement. "If I'd had any...."
She smiled-and frowned. "If I'd had any idea." She shook her head. "I still can't believe it's you, Wilf." She was silent for a moment as if she were gathering strength. "No sleep..." she said, "...four days. I'm all right. Need to rest though."
"Wilf!" Theada called shakily from the helm. "I think we're going to need you up here right away at the controls. Company's arrived."
"What's the best way Out of here?" Brim asked, taking Margot's arms and looking into her tired eyes.
She thought a moment. "Zone 5 here isn't usually- patrolled much during daylight." She shrugged. "A few light picket ships. But there's talk about some crazy old cruiser. I tried to get some information about that, but I had to leave."
"We've seen that one," Brim assured her. "It's real." Then be frowned. "Best bet's up, then?"
"Straight up, Wilf," she said. "And keep on going right out into deep space. That's what I'd do, anyway."
"Sounds good to me," he said. "We'll try it."
While Brim made his way forward to the helm, Barbousse swept Margot into a spare recliner beside the unconscious Amherst and helped reseal her helmet at the neck. "Just in case, Lieutenant Effer'wyck," he said grimly as he took his place at the weapons console.
Brim turned in his seat and squinted through the aft Hyperscreens-as Theada warned, two flying objects were in pursuit, but still too distant for him to determine a type.
"What now?" the younger Helmsman asked.
As he took over the controls, Brim shook his bead and smiled. "We are going home, Jubal," he said simply. "Right away." With that, he set the generators to "EMERGENCY MILITARY" and pulled the powerful little scout into a vertical climb with Ursis working the power consoles in an orderly frenzy of movement.
The two ships following also pulled into a climb, but whatever their make, the scout handily outdistanced them, and they soon disappeared into the ground clutter below.
"Left those two nicely enough," Theada commented.
"Too bad we couldn't outrun their KA'PPAs," Brim said. "We'll have a welcoming committee waiting for us out there ahead."
"I see them in the long-distance target scanner already, Lieutenant," Barbousse said calmly.
"As I am sure they have us in theirs," Ursis growled.
Just then, the authentication key sounded, but this time with an ominous clanging like an alarm-which it was.
Brim shook his head. "That's it for the authentication system," he warned. "The key's run out."
"The tank was onto us anyway," Theada snorted just as space flashed violently in a rolling ball of pure energy that detonated just off the port beam.
"Authentication is now a very moot point," Ursis rumbled. "Let us see how well that 60-mmi projector forward works against this new enemy."
"Looks like four of those little N-81 picket ships Lieutenant Effer'wyck warned us about," Barbousse reported. " A lot thinner skinned than the tank."
Theada concentrated on the firing controls. Brim watched the turret index across the forward deck. Moments later, a stream of energy blazed from the disruptor, accompanied by a rumble that vibrated the deck. A flash in the far distance ahead blossomed into a glowing orange puffball, then subsided.
"Missed!" Theada fumed amid a welter of return fire that smashed at the scout's thin hullmetal sides like rollingthunder. The ship bounced sharply as a jagged section of hullmetal railing was carried away with an ear-jarring crash and a cloud of sparkling radiation. "Sure wish Anastasia were here to run this thing."
Brim frantically zigzagged all over the sky trying to avoid the bursts. "Thank Voot they only carry a couple of 70-mmi's on board," be said through gritted teeth. "But eight of 'em can mean real trouble."
A second volley of fire burst from he scout's nose, resulting in a brief flare-up ahead. "Make that three N-81s," Theada said proudly-and with a little surprise in his voice as well. He was immediately drowned out as he sent off another volley of discharges. He peered into the target scanner. "Scattered the bastards that time," he said. Outside, the return fire slackened considerably.
"That's the way, Jubal!" Brim-exclaimed. He listened to the miraculously steady beat of the two rugged Klaipper-Hiss generators blasting them ever faster through space, then glanced back at Margot in the recliner and felt his heart soar. Dirty and tired beyond all reason, she was anything but the sensuous woman with whom he rather goatishly desired to share a bed. He sensed his feelings toward her had developed a lot farther than that. Glancing at Ursis, he was rewarded by a wink. As usual, the Bear seemed to read his mind.
Soon, Theada began to index his disruptor again. "What do you think?" he asked Brim.
The Cacescrian smiled and scanned the heavens. "I think we're going to catch it from all sides pretty soon, Jubal," he said. "So keep an eye peeled. And make every shot count-because it will. If we can break out into open space, we'll be all right. Not much the League builds can catch this tub running flat out on its Drive crystal." He felt the ship tremble as Ursis dumped their emergency power cell into the energy supply.
"If we do not need it now," the Bear explained with a grin, "we probably will never need it."
And abruptly the enemy returned-their patrol vessels rushing in this time from all sides. Space came alive with flashing detonations. The scout bounced through volley after volley, shouldering aside a succession of hits, but the punishment soon began to tell. A whole section of port Hyperscreens suddenly dissolved into a network of flaming cracks, then went dark. A direct hit carried away the three aft repulsion rings from the open utility deck. Five simultaneous flare-ups smashed their bow off course and blew the cowling from the starboard plasma injectors-though the generator miraculously continued to function normally. Theada had the 60-mmi back in action immediately. Now, however, the attackers were widely separated. Desperately, he fired this way and that, but to little avail-he had no time to aim before he was forced to change his target. Outside the remaining Hyperscreens space was now alive with explosions of dazzling light and radiation. The little ship bounced and bucketed through the concussions as Brim desperately zigzagged in all directions.
Moments later, the Hyperscreens pulsed again-this time remaining dark for a full five ticks while the whole control room shook with a massive series of thunderous tremors. Loose gear clattered to the deck as the bow erupted in a cloud of sparks and debris that smashed back along the deck and grated deafeningly along the walls of the control cabin. Green sparkling radiation cascaded over the control cabin and vomited into the wake-when it cleared, the 60-mmi was completely gone, replaced by a jagged, glowing hole.
"Where did that come from?" Brim exclaimed over the din of the straining generators. "Wasn't even a direct hit!" Two more stupendous explosions erupted off to starboard, smashing the scout off course again and pulsing what was left of the Hyperscreens.
"Sweet thraggling Universe," Theada exclaimed. "I see it! Over there, just coming up from the shadow of the planet."
"The old cruiser!" Brim yelled as he suddenly realized he had flown into a classic trap. The little patrol craft were actually herding him like a grazing animal. His mind raced furiously as he crankled wildly through the sky. With no more disruptors to use against the patrol craft, escape was virtually impossible-any way be might choose to go, the huge disruptors of the cruiser could easily destroy him. Yet the only way out now was past the old ship. He made his decision swiftly. "Barbousse," he yelled, "prime those torpedo tubes!"
"They're primed, Lieutenant," Barbousse declared presently.
Brim swung the scout's shattered bow toward the cruiser and sighted carefully through his target display. He set his jaw and frowned. A bad deflection, that, low and close to the disk of the planet-but it was the best he was going to get. "Here we go!" he yelled. More explosions battered the racing scout in every direction, but each time Brim fought his way back on course. As they approached, space itself seemed to catch fire with shattering detonations and radiation from the big ship's disruptors. "Ready," he yelled.
"Ready," Barbousse answered tensely.
Outside, a torrent of explosions ripped the blackness of space. Brim gritted his teeth and held a steady course while he struggled to acquire the target. He had only a single chance. Every passing tick was an eternity.
"Now," he called at last. "Fire both!"
The scout jumped as the powerful Leaguer torpedoes blasted from their tubes on either side of the ruined 60-mmi disruptor turret.
"Torpedoes running, Lieutenant," Barbousse confirmed.
"Reload!" Brim ordered, skidding to port just in time to avoid a whole string of monstrous detonations. Powerful machinery whined and labored on either side of the deckhouse as the spare torpedoes were drawn from their storage canisters and inserted into the torpedo tubes. An eternity later, two thumps announced the task accomplished.
"They're primed, Lieutenant," Barbousse announced.
"Fire both!" Brim shouted.
Again the ship jumped.
"Torpedoes running."
By now, every disruptor on the old cruiser that could bear was in rapid fire at them. "Ready the Drive, Nik," Brim warned.
"The Drive is already on standby, Wilf," Ursis assured him. Brim judged the fast-narrowing distance carefully. Hesitated one more tick, then, "Fire it off!" he yelled.
The Drive crystal came to life at the precise instant the first two torpedoes found their target-they struck dead amidships with an immense explosion that immediately hid the middle third of the old cruiser with a roiling ball of blinding flame and radiation. And now E607 was rushing down at it with the acceleration only a Drive can provide.
"We're going to hit," Amherst shrieked over the suit channel.
A millitick later, the second two torpedoes slammed into what remained of the Leaguer's midsection-a dull glow boiling out into surrounding space until her hull opened like a rotten fruit. Her KA'PPA mast subsided slowly into the seething mass of energy, then suddenly took off in the opposite direction like a missile. Simultaneously, another glow began forward until the whole ship seemed to collapse inward in a explosion of starflame. Slowly, she rolled to starboard, her massive hull breaking raggedly into two parts at a gaping hole in her side.
Brim steered straight for the opening-he was too close and too fast for any other choice. The little scout pitched and rolled in the awesome shock waves. Then they were through to open space in less than a tick, Brim steering by instinct alone, He remembered an instant of great ruined galleries, flame, and destruction on either side-and debris. Something huge smashed past the control cabin, ripping a deep gash along the deck and opening the spare torpedo compartment like a ripe ca'amba. The Drive surged for a moment all out of control-a colossal hammer stroke smashed at the hull, then Gandom's Ve effect started and moments later they were in Hyperspace. When Brim turned in his seat, the giant wreck was only a flicker in the aft Hyperscreens, with the Drive growling raggedly beneath their feet and the generators spooling to a stop in their scarred outriggers.
"It probably looked as if we blew up with the cruiser," Theada commented in a voice still weak from excitement. "We were on our way into Hyperspace before we cleared the wreck-age.
"No doubt," Ursis grumbled. "Unfortunately, whatever it was we collided with nearly did for the Drive, too." He frowned at his readouts and rubbed his jaw. "Ten thousand LightSpeed is the best speed we'll get in Hyperspace-unless of course you wish to be out of phase with time."
Brim shuddered. Everyone knew about occasional time castaways. He decided long ago he preferred death-of any kind. "Can we maintain ten thousand LightSpeed?" he asked.
"That, fortunately, poses no particular problem," the Bear replied.
Brim shrugged. "Let's go for it, then," he said. "Even a little Hysperspeed is better than none at all."
"As you say, Wilf Ansor," Ursis said. The Drive continued its uneven thunder.
Brim quickly took stock of the rest of the ship. All in all, it appeared to be in reasonably workable form, considering the treatment he'd given it during the last few metacycles. In the corner of his eye, he saw Margot remove her helmet-Barbousse was at her side in a moment. She looked at Brim through tired, bloodshot eyes, her face so drawn she was hardly recognizable.
"I-I watched that, Wilf," she said with awe in her weak voice. "I watched you. No wonder you're building such a name for yourself."
"Desperation, as usual," Brim said with a smile. "I can't do anything unless I'm in trouble."
"Oh, Wilf," Margot pouted with a tired grin, "you are impossible, aren't you?" She smiled sleepily, then her eyes closed and her head lolled onto her shoulder.
Barbousse opened her space suit at the wrist and gently counted her pulse. "She's asleep, Lieutenant," he asserted with a wink. "I think you've got this mission just about complete."
"Not until we get that lady aboard her pickup ship," Brim said. "But I guess I'll even be surprised if we don't pull that off pretty soon, considering what we've come through so far."
Then he turned to Amherst. "All right, Number One," he said without emotion, "now we're on our way home-as you wished. You'd better get yourself cleaned up and back in command."
E607's rendezvous with Margot's pickup ship took place only metacycles after they limped from the boundaries of the League at ten thousand LightSpeed. This time, they were not met by a lightly armed reconnaissance craft. Instead, the massive form of a heavy cruiser hove into view in what was left of the forward Hyperscreens-signaling imperiously for an immediate linkup.
After Brim matched speeds and came alongside, the ships were quickly connected by mooring beams and a brow extended from the cruiser to the scout's scarred and dented well deck. In moments, the Carescrian found himself alone with Margot in the control cabin, the others conveniently hurrying through the air lock after Ursis-who had Amherst firmly by the elbow.
Brim carefully slaved his controls to the larger ship, then slipped from the helm and made his way aft, where he bent over Margot's sleeping form and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.
She opened her tired eyes slowly-blinked-then opened her arms. In a moment, Brim embraced her. "How I've dreamed of holding you," he whispered, his heart beating out of control.
"I've dreamed of you, too, Wilf," she said breathlessly. "It got me through the bad times back there." She trembled. "I never did that reset we talked about back at Prosperous," she said. "I couldn't."
Brim felt a thrill course through his whole body. He looked into her bloodshot eyes. "Nor did I," he said with a passion he had never before experienced. Then their lips touched, hers soft and wet against his. For a dizzy moment, the war ceased to exist-only Margot and her lips and her breath and her arms and her crazy, crazy wet lips....
Abruptly, someone was hammering on the aft Hyperscreens. Brim surfaced just in time to see Barbousse knocking gently from the well deck. Behind him, Amherst was leading a group of officers through the wreckage toward the air lock. The newcomers were dressed in elegant battle suits that clearly had never seen a battle. "We've got visitors, Margot," he warned.
She continued to hold him for a moment, then released her grip. "I want you to hold me again, Wilf," she whispered, peering intently into his eyes. "I don't know bow, but, 'Can e'er I bid these joys farewell?/No greater bliss shines out among the stars.'"
"I'll get to where you are somehow," Brim said, Lacerta's poetry glowing like a brand in his memory as the air lock hissed. He got to his feet unsteadily, his heart racing.
"Together," Margot whispered while he helped her from the recliner. Then the others were inside, doffing their helmets and looking around the little control cabin as if its clutter might stain their battle suits. "Princess Effer'wyck?" a bowing commander inquired, ignoring Brim as if he were part of the ship's equipment. The man was short, and inside his helmet he wore a too-neat mustache.
"Lieutenant Effer'wyck, if you please, Commander," Margot corrected. Then, turning to Brim, she said, "I shall remain on Avalon for a time, Wilf. If Fortune wills, we shall meet there. Otherwise, Gimmas." She touched his hand, then reached for her space helmet. "Thank you forever," she whispered-less than a cycle later, she led three of the officers through the air lock, across the ruined well deck, and out of Brim's sight.
The remaining officer placed a hand on Amherst's shoulder and scanned the burned and splintered deck outside. "Looks as if the rescue wasn't all that easy, Puvis," he said, removing his helmet. He was tall and elegant, even in a battle suit. Like Amherst, he had a long patrician nose, narrow-set, sensitive eyes, and another perfectly groomed wisp of mustache.
"We accomplished our mission, Commander," Brim said.
"That's the important part."
"Yes, you brought the Princess back," Shelgar said, nodding his head, "thereby avoiding a large and nasty galactic incident." He laughed. "She won't do that again, I'll tell you-they've reassigned her permanently to Avalon this time. Why, when the Emperor found what she was up to, he was furious. Perfectly furious."
"She is next in line for the throne of Effer'wyck, isn't she?" Amherst observed. "Sort of a crown princess, except they don't use the term there." He frowned. "How did she get herself such an assignment in the first place?"
"A strong-willed youngster," Shelgar chuckled. "They say she usually gets what she wants." He smiled. "And from what I hear, she did a perfectly superb job of what she was doing. All very hush-hush, you know." He took a moment to stare at the wreckage-strewn decks, peering intently at the jagged, blackened hole where Theada's 60-mmi used to be. "But," he continued, holding up an index finger, "I did not remain on your, ah, bridge here to discuss the Princess. I have orders for you, Puvis, and also for what is left of this little starship of yours.
"Sir?" Amherst asked.
"First," Shelgar said, "you are ordered to return with us in the cruiser-your father's personal and direct wishes, of course. He'll want to bestow your decorations himself."
"I see, yes," Amherst said, his eyes brightening for the first time since the mission began. "I have a few things in the cabin, forward," he said. "If you will be so good as to pass the remainder of the orders to Brim, my Helmsman, I shall be ready to leave momentarily."
Shelgar nodded and watched Amherst disappear into the companionway before he turned to Brim. "So you are the Carescrian Helmsman," he said, folding his arms and smiling.
"Yes, sir," Brim answered uncertainly.
"Regula Collingswood speaks highly of you, Lieutenant," Shelgar said. "I assume you flew the mission?"
"Some of it," Brim answered.
"I won't ask any embarrassing questions, Brim," Shelgar asserted with an ironic smile. "I've already formed my own guesses about the nature of young Amherst's contribution from what I long ago learned of my brother's son." He winked. "So I also won't bother to read the official version when it appears in the Journal." He laughed quietly. "Enough of that," he said.
"Politics disgust me-and time grows short. I think you'll like your orders-they get you to Avalon just as soon as you can coax this clapped-out wreck to fly you there."
"Did you say Avalon, sir?" Brim asked, heart suddenly racing.
"You're to take what's left of this scout back to the Technical Intelligence Center, Brim. You can catch a return ride to Truculent from there. And I shall convey the same information to Her Majesty, the Princess Effer'wyck. If I am any judge of quick looks, it will no doubt soften the shock of her reassignment."
Brim felt his face flush. "Th-Thank you, sir," he gulped. "But wouldn't it be a lot quicker to tow us with you? We'll be quite awhile getting there at ten thousand LightSpeed."
"Quicker for you," Shelgar said with a smile, "but a lot slower for us with you trailing at the end of an optical hawser. The Emperor wants Princess Effer'wyck safely under his jurisdiction 'without delay' which means a full-speed run back to Avalon as it is."
"Aye, sir," Brim grumped.
"You'll both survive," Shelgar assured him with a smile. "And speaking of orders-which we weren't-the text of yours ought to be finished downloading by now into your COMM system-read it for the details." He grinned. "Incidentally, Regula asked me to pass this along, too." He took a small metal box from a pocket on his forearm and passed it to Brim. "I just so happened to have one of these lying around in my kit-mine once, now it's yours. You can pass it on yourself someday."
Brim frowned and opened the box. His heart stopped.
"Congratulations," Shelgar said. "From what I bear, you've earned it, full Lieutenant Thin." He laughed. "You'll find we've downloaded all the documentation for that, too. If it's high-flown boredom you're after, it'll make good reading." He clapped the speechless Brim on his shoulder as Amherst reentered the control cabin. "Ready, Puvis?" he asked placing his helmet on his head.
"I certainly am, Uncle," Amherst replied, donning his own helmet. He turned to Brim. "Take care of things as well as you can without me, Brim," he said.
Brim gritted his teeth. "I shall do that, Number One," he said.
"Yes, I'm sure you will," Shelgar said, pushing Amherst into the air lock before him. He winked at Brim as he stepped through himself. "I shall pass along that message we discussed," he said. "And congratulations again." Then he was gone.
Scant ticks later, mooring beams to the cruiser winked out and the big starship bore up for Avalon, disappearing in the blackness with an emerald glow that lingered for nearly a quarter of a metacycle before it faded away. Brim grinned while the remainder of the Truculents clambered through the air lock, ripping off their battle helmets and congratulating him for his promotion all at once. Miraculously, Ursis and Barbousse had procured large bottles of Logish meem-apparently from the emptiness of space itself. He laughed, basking in the warmth of their good wishes, happily clicking goblets with each in turn (first full and right side up, then empty and upside down). Inside, however, his glee stemmed from a different source altogether. He was going to Avalon-and Margot. Somehow, a mere promotion in grade paled in comparison!
It took the Truculents nearly twenty Standard days to nurse the crippled scout into native space, but at last E607's cracked and scarred Hyperscreens began to fill with the glittering star that comprised the heart of the galaxy itself. In due the mighty triad of Asterious blazed forth like a giant beacon suspended above the Universe, drenching all it contained with a glorious golden radiance-and soon thereafter, the five blue-green worlds hove into view: Proteus for science, Melia for commerce, Ariel for communications, Helios for shipping, and The city-planet Avalon herself-throbbing epi-center of an empire that spanned the very galaxy and beyond.
Brim's Orders specified signing the scout over to the scientific community on Proteus, and accordingly (on the thirty-second day of the voyage), he slowed to Hypospace, rounded the Vernal-204 space buoy, and set up his final approach to the gleaming planet of Imperial science. With the scout's seemingly indestructible generators rumbling steadily in his ears, he was passed through to the military sector and entered the spaceport traffic pattern when the last flickers of reentry plasma cleared from his Hyperscreens. Below sprawled three circular clusters of buildings and laboratories known through the Empire as the source of nearly half the important military technology developed in the last hundred years.
He eased E607 into the downrange leg of the traffic pattern while Theada trimmed ship for a dry-land planetfall. As the Klaipper-Hisses began to spool up, a Military Harbor Master appeared in Brim's COMM display and cleared them on to the complex.
"All hands to stations for planetfall. All hands to stations for planetfall," Theada announced on the ship's speakers.
Brim rolled left through an abbreviated base leg for immediate transition to final amid running footsteps and alarm buzzers as landing crews scattered to their positions. When the ship righted, he lined up on one of the long Becton-type gravity-cushion tubes (commonly used in place of water for hard-surface touchdowns), carefully pulled off more lift, and established a gentle glide angle, checking the nose in relation to the near end of the fast-approaching tube. Steady as a rock. He smiled. Couldn't mistake this for Gimmas Haefdon-no wind!
He made one final power reduction directly over the green-flashing ALPHA beacon, then energized the lift modifiers, held his speed steady, and waited for the approach lights to loam up as he rumbled in over the end of the tube. E607 settled solidly onto the long gravity cushion as its shadow dashed in from alongside and became a blurred spot beside them on the right-of-way. When Brim sensed a definite hover, he dumped the modifiers and completed his roll-out with gravity brakes alone, generators rumbling at idle.
His instrument panel was already a satisfying mass of flowing colors and patterns by the time he taxied from the tube at the second turnoff-and amid wild cheering from his travel-weary crew, he finally parked the little ship at a special gravity pool near the military terminal. E607's first and only mission was complete.
"Text, messages for you, Lieutenant Brim," Barbousse announced suddenly from the COMM cabinet, his voice nearly lost in the eager commotion of technicians clambering aboard the little ship from three separate brows.
"What do they say?" Brim asked, busily shutting down the flight systems.
"Appear to be personal, sir," Barbousse yelled. "You'll probably want to display them yourself-beggin' the Lieutenant's pardon, of course."
"I see," Brim said as he activated a COMM globe over his control panel. The short text message cascaded instantly across the display:
I believe the Admiralty has deprived you of any excuse to decline. (Regrets Only)-Margot
Brim's heart raced as he read the first few words. Then he frowned. "Godille function?" "Admiralty?" He looked up just as Ursis switched over to external gravity-and almost fell out of his recliner. Swallowing hard, he wrested control of his heaving stomach, then turned to yell hotly at Barbousse. "Are you sure you got all of that?" he demanded. "It doesn't make any sense at all."
"Which one, sir?" Barbousse asked solicitously. The big generators were spinning down now, and it was a little easier to talk.
"I only got one," Brim yelled, his voice now far too loud in the little control cabin. Everyone turned to stare at him-he felt his face flush.
"But which one, Lieutenant?" Barbousse asked again.
Brim gritted his teeth. "Personal" his foot! 'The one from Margot," he answered in capitulation.
"Oh," Barbousse said with raised eyebrows. "That's the second one, Lieutenant. The first one must have got lost."
"WON-der-ful," Brim fumed.
"I'll send it again," Barbousse said.
Brim thumped back in his recliner, feeling a dozen pairs of eyes at his back. "Thanks," he said, pulling in his neck. Then he swiveled rapidly to face his audience. Eight technicians were expectantly looking over his shoulder at the message globe. "As you were!" he thundered. They scattered to eight tasks elsewhere in the suddenly quiet control cabin. Then the first message cascaded across the globe:
FROM: Lord Avingnon B. Wyrood @ Admiralty/
Avalon
Lieutenant Brim: Your attendance is hereby commanded at a court divertissement by His Majesty, Crown Prince Onrad in tribute to the Honorable Archduke of Godille.
Lordglen House of State
Grand Boulevard of the Cosmos
Avalon
(formal attire)
--------------------------------------------------------
-A. K. Khiös, Secretary to Lord Wyrood
Later, on a tram from the landing field, Brim told the others about his invitation.
"The Lordglen House?" Theada exclaimed. "Universe, Wilf, that's one of the fanciest official palaces of all. How'd you get an invitation there when we stay at the Visitors' Quarters?"
"Friends in high places," Brim laughed evasively, feeling color rise in his cheeks. "Besides, it's just until we ship out tomorrow night."
Ursis laughed and clapped Brim on the shoulder. "I think perhaps you do have such friends, Wilf Ansor, but perhaps not whom you think." He smiled. "I shall be most interested to discover who your sponsor really turns out to be."
Brim never found himself in Avalon's Grand Imperial Terminal without a total sense of architectural majesty. Taken altogether, the huge structure could only be described as incredible with its immense, cloud-filled ceiling, which soared hundreds of irals over a thousand crowded ramps and concourses winding among terraced gardens and colored lagoons.
It was a fitting metaphor to represent the civilization that conceived and built it. Awesome-like the vast collection of worlds and stars it connected.
Making his way to the bustling Quentian Portal, Brim scanned the dozens of curbside lanes for his transportation. A bus? A van? He idly noticed a huge chauffeured limousine skimmer thread its way carefully through the crowd and draw to a halt amid "oohs" and "aim" from the street throng. He watched with interest as the chauffeur dismounted-somebody important was slated for that vehicle (or, he chuckled, a Bear on leave). He continued to scan the other lanes for his own ride.
"Lieutenant Brim?" a voice asked.
Brim turned in surprise to confront the chauffeur, who was small, dressed entirely in light gray, and appeared to be totally bald (bare scalp gleamed all around his peaked cap). "That's me," he said doubtfully.
The man motioned toward the huge skimmer waiting at the curb, sleek, shining, and important. It looked for all the world like some great water creature poised for attack. "Your transportation to the Lordglen House, Lieutenant," he said, a small blond mustache twitching as he spoke.
Brim felt his eyebrows raise. "That's for me?"
The chauffeur laughed. "All the way to Lordglen," he said.
"You're sure I'm not supposed to drive you?" Brim joked as he strode toward the, stately vehicle. "Looks big enough to take a Helmsman."
"Only in traffic, Lieutenant," the chauffeur retorted good-naturedly as he opened the door for Brim. "This time of the day, I can probably handle it myself." Without another word, he climbed into the driver's compartment and the powerful skimmer glided out of the station.
Avalon City proper was laid out in a vast arid of forested parks and urban recumbency at the edge of huge, placid Lake Mersin-actually an inland sea. The Grand Terminal was constructed on an artificial island in the lake and connected to the city proper via a wide causeway named for August Thackary Palidan, first starship commander to circumnavigate the galaxy.
Cruising the causeway at high speed, they soon swung onto, tree-lined Vereker Boulevard and began to follow the shore. Brim looked out at magenta waves beyond the twisted kilgal trees as they swept past. The chauffeur was maneuvering through the heavy traffic with a light and skillful hand-Brim relaxed in the deep cushions of the seat, enjoying every bit of luxury he could absorb.
They breezed past a cool, mork-shaded park dotted with sparkling fountains-full of splashing children. Brim reflected on how long it had been since he'd even seen a child and shook his head. Before Gimmas Haefdon, he guessed. War and children didn't mix so very well-as he so sadly knew.
Traffic was heavier as they neared the inner metropolis, and the closer they came, the more the lanes in both directions contained limousine skimmers like the one in which, he rode, many decorated with embassy crests. One great black machine from the Bright Triad at Ely pulled opposite them in an adjoining lane just as its emergency beacon came on, flashing frantic red, white, and orange in an eye-startling, random sequence. The shining vehicle accelerated quickly, skillfully dodging other traffic and rapidly disappeared in the distance.
To the right, they passed the shimmering Desterro Monument with its colossal spiral of sculpted flame commemorating discovery of the Cold Tetrad of Edrington, center of a gravity drift that collected space debris and invaluable historic artifacts from a million years of space travel. A traditional mecca for peacetime tourists, the monument was now overrun by hundreds of gawking cadets and Blue Capes from all over the Empire. Brim smiled. He'd visited more than once himself.
In a matter of cycles, they were gliding over the first great ruby arch crossing the Grand Achtite Canal, each end of the wide, translucid span guarded by immense crystal warriors gazing at the same section of the sky (as indeed their sculptor had determined they would). Brim recalled a tour guide once pointing out that three similar bridges crossed the canal far downstream at regular intervals, each guarded by the same crystal statues that stared eternally at the same section of the sky: the Achtite Cluster. To the left of the bridge apron, Brim's eye caught the great domed tower of Marva thrusting silver and gold above the skyline with its fluted sides and curious winding concourse that spiraled all the way to the dome like a sparkling vine. Old Queen Adrien herself once lived and studied there before she set off in her little Durax III to discover Porth Grassmere on the far side of Elath. It was a place all Imperial Helmsmen knew-and appreciated.
Farther along, they passed Avalon's famous Kimber Castle, where Cago JaHall composed Solemn Universe and other classics of the same idiom. In later years, Dalgo Hildi had also lived there, but by the time she finally arrived in Avalon, her active career was nearly over. The graceful old building was presently fronted by crystal scaffolding, and workers appeared to be treating its carved metal facade.
While they continued on into the historic Beardmore sector, Brim noted heavy construction wherever he looked. New buildings were going up on nearly every block. Older structures were being rebuilt-scaffolding and cranes everywhere. A good sign, he considered. Avalon was beginning to recover from the initial shock of the war, looking toward the future again-and perceiving the first glimmerings of possible victory.
He sat back, breathed deeply, and sank deeper into the luxuriously padded seat, feeling the smooth power of the skimmer and the skill of its driver. He watched the bustle of the crowded streets, uniforms everywhere.
As they swung through the spacious Courtland Plaza with its famous three-tiered Savoin gravity fountain and onyx reflecting pool, the Imperial Palace momentarilly came into view across an expanse of carefully tended gardens and manicured forests. Huntingdon Gate was its usual confused mass of traffic (reputed challenge even to Avalon's finest chauffeurs). Then the view was obstructed by the squat, glass-walled Estorial Library, where Hobiria Kopp first presented her Korsten Manifesto a full two hundred years prior to Brim's birth. The library had a special poetry section, which he promised he would one day peruse at his leisure-but as usual, not this trip!
At last, Brim's limousine swung onto the long, park-lined Boulevard of the Cosmos and began to slow. Moments later, it stopped gently in a curving driveway before a gracefully understated jade-stone portico: the sprawling Lordglen House of State. It was still early in the day, and the spacious receiving plaza was empty, but Brim could imagine what it would be like later when the guests began to arrive.
A white-gloved footman in a bright red coat and white breeches saluted and opened the door for him. "Lieutenant Brim, sir? Right this way, please," he said with a smile that instantly dissipated the awesome personality of the building itself. Brim rapped "thanks" on the glass separating the passenger and driver compartments, then followed the footman through an imposing two-story doorway. Inside, they crossed a wide entry hail, boots clicking on the flawless obsidian floor. Above, an enormous gold and crystal chandelier reflected light from thousands of polished facets, and at the far end of the room, twin alabaster staircases curved upward to an ornate balcony jutting gracefully above an elaborately carved archway whose polished ebony doors were presently closed. The footman led Brim up the left-hand stairway and through a carved-gold arch into a short hallway whose domed ceiling depicted allegorical scenes painted in an old-fashioned and elegant style. Midway along the left-hand wall, they entered a lift to the fifth floor, where Brim was presented a large golden key and shown into an elegant room furnished with exquisite period furniture and decorated by a collection of artifacts that, even to an untrained eye, were clearly worth the price of a large starship.
"Welcome to Lordglen House, Lieutenant," the footman said as he opened the heavy drapes. "Lord Wyrood has instructed me to attend to all your needs. I have placed a complete formal uniform in the closet to your right, and attempted to provide other, more basic necessities-which you will encounter in the usual places." He bowed. "Should you find I have missed items here and there," he added, "you have only to ring. My name is Keppler-I shall be at your service promptly." With this, he bowed again and exited the room backward, closing the double door quietly behind him.
Brim shook his head as he looked about the tastefully ornate room-a long way from Carescria, this! He peered through the window into a courtyard of perfectly shaped flowering panthon trees whose glowing fruits made the quadrangle look like a miniature Universe of starry galaxies when viewed against the dark paving stones. A stately fountain danced placidly at its center. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment-this level of wealth transcended his understanding completely. He shrugged; none of it had much importance to him anyway. The only reality here was Margot. Once she arrived, everything else would fade to nonimportance.
Brim fidgeted impatiently as he tested the fit of his borrowed dress uniform before a full-length mirror: white tunic with stiff, gold-embroidered collars, epaulets, and high cuffs, dark blue breeches with gold stripe, knee-high parade boots (like polished hullmetal), white gloves, and peaked hat. A rich, red-lined cape was carefully draped on the bed-certainly nothing like the cheap rentals he had known at the Academy.
He-felt a growing sense of excitement as he counted off the cycles before he would see Margot--it was impossible to sit anymore. He paced back and forth across the thick carpet, its softness wasted beneath his boots. Each cycle seemed longer than its predecessor, even though months had passed since the evening he shared with her on Gimmas Haefdon-and those now seemed like moments. Outside, a gentle breeze moved the panthon trees-the weather was perfection. An omen, perhaps? He laughed to himself. All moments with Margot were-perfection, so far as he could remember-he doubted she would disappoint him tonight.
As he stood staring at the patio, a distant chime sounded importantly. Then, in moments, a soft knock came at his door. "Come in," he said. "It's unlocked."
"About ready, sir?" Keppler asked as he stepped into the room. "The reception is under way in the ballroom."
Now that it was time to go. Brim suddenly began to fret about the other guests. Wealthy people, of a certainty. Influential. Powerful. He was no more than a simple Helmsman. What could he have in common with any of them? What could he say worth listening to? Would he make a fool of himself? Suddenly, he felt tired. He wished he could have made other arrangements to see Margot. He never had a chance.
"You look splendid, Lieutenant," Keppler said. "They'll all be jealous-especially with your action record." He helped, Brim place his cape properly over one shoulder in the latest fashion. "Now stand back," he ordered imperiously. "Let me make a last-moment check."
Brim suffered further adjustments to his collar, cape, and an offending epaulet before Keppler was finished.
"Perfect, sir," the footman said finally as he nodded his approval. "A number of important people down there expect to meet you, so you'll want to look your best." With that, he gently propelled Brim from the room and into the lift.
Only a few cycles later, Brim found himself returned to the balcony at the head of the double staircase. Voices and soft music surged from below as elegant couples filed slowly in from the portico and disappeared through the doorway beneath his feet. He paused for a moment, reflecting on his failure to submerge a natural Carescrian irritation with these scions of wealth and privilege. While they enjoyed unbelievable comfort and luxury, men and women of more humble origins were elsewhere locked in mortal combat to protect the very Imperial existence. Why were these people exempted? Then he grimly laughed at the folly he had just concocted. Here he was, himself dressed like the worst sort of professional courtiers-and in the absolute thick of it! He snorted and started down the staircase, contemplating his own double standard. The huge ebony doors were open now, eight gray-clad footmen with ornate symbolic pikes flanking either side. Beyond, an elegant throng preened and pirouetted: polished officers in, the colorful uniforms of every friendly nation in the galaxy, seas of half-revealed bosoms and lavish gowns in every hue and pattern art and science could conjure, humans, Bears, A'zurnians, and the less-numerous races. At the center of the high archway, a majordomo dressed in bright green tunic with dark trousers and green boots bowed as Brim approached.
"Your name, please, Lieutenant?" he asked.
"Wilf Brim," Brim declared. "A Carescrian." He looked the man directly in the eye.
"Ah, yes, Lieutenant Brim," the majordomo said. "A thousand pardons: I should have known." He turned on his heel and led Brim into the ballroom. "Lieutenant Helmsman Wilf Ansor Brim, Imperial Fleet," he announced, thumping the butt of his pike loudly on a special square of flooring. "I.F.S. Truculent."
A few heads turned indifferently, but the announcement was generally lost in the babble of the crowd. And, from what Brim could see as he stepped into the room, his rank alone would relegate him to the very depths of nonimportance among most other guests whose ranks he could identify.
From inside, the room was high and huge-though a soft light level held the overall effect well within the limits of Brim's comprehension-longer than it was wide, with an ornate, domed ceiling covered by gold and silver designs in the form of a sinuous Logis vine. Three monstrous chandeliers like the one in the anteroom hung along its centerline. One wall was a solid bank of mirrors, the others were covered by rich-looking tapestries. The floor was a continuation of the flawless obsidian outside.
While Brim stood orienting himself in the heady atmosphere of hogge'poa, meem, and a hundred fragrances of perfume, a tall commander with a wisp of a mustache and piercing blue eyes appeared from the revelers, smiled, and clapped him on the back. "Brim, my good man," he said, "so glad you could; make it. I'm Avlin Khios, secretary to Lord Wyrood." He waved his hand apologetically. "Sorry your invitation arrived with so little notice. We hoped you might be able to make it anyway." He grinned. "Understand you had an exciting mission, what?"
"'Exciting' is probably as good a word as any, sir," Brim acknowledged with a smile. "The important thing, though, is; that we were able to see it all the way through."
"Yes, I understand," Khios said with a knowing grin. "Well her Effer'wyckian nibs is certainly on tonight's guest list." He took Brim's arm and propelled him into the center of the crowd. "But until the young lady actually does arrive, we have some people who want to talk to you-not many of them have the opportunity to meet real fighting men."
Brim felt a goblet placed in his hand as he passed a pair of footmen. The shallow vessel made his passage through the crowd even more difficult than before. As he passed a red-faced Army officer, the man spit, "Carescrian," bitterly at him as if he were repeating an impolite word. Then, within a few more ticks, he was centered in a ring of smiling young officers) who wore the badges of the Admiralty Staff-and curious looks on their faces.
Khios named each as Brim greeted one after the other with the handshake he learned in the Academy (Carescrians normally avoided touching anybody, at least during a first meeting)- their names were promptly forgotten in the rush of questions that followed.
"You've actually been in one of their starships?"
"What were the cannon like on A'zurn? Were they easy to drive?"
"Were they hard to start?"
"League torpedoes are good, aren't they? How'd the J band stand up after the radiation from those mines?"
To his surprise, Brim quickly began to sense an underlying mood of serious interest-certainly the questions coming his way were founded on well-informed backgrounds. As the group continued to probe, Brim rapidly found he was not talking to the vacuum-headed courtiers he originally thought they might be. Rather, it seemed he was surrounded by a group of dedicated staff people: behind-the-scenes decision makers who-so far as he could ascertain-were probably far more valuable contributing to an office work group than fighting the war somewhere in a battle zone. In the ore barges, one learned quickly to respect anyone who was willing to make a genuine contribution-to almost anything.
During the next few cycles, he answered each question as honestly as he could, within his limited knowledge. It was difficult to make noncombatants understand that one often fought more by calm reaction to impressions and reflexes than by detailed study of anything specific. He was patiently giving his third impression of E607's handling characteristics when the gathering was interrupted by Khios. "I've got to steal Lieutenant Brim for a while, gentlemen," he said, breaking into the circle to regrasp Brim's arm. "We have a couple of executive types who insist on meeting him now."
Brim nodded politely at the smiling officers and lifted his hands palm upward. "My apologies, gentlemen," he said. Then he turned on his heel and followed in Khios' wake through the festive atmosphere of music, perfume, and beautiful people.
The secretary stopped nearly all the way across the big room at a small, unobtrusive archway leading off among the hanging tapestries. He knocked gently on an ornate door before he pushed it open, nodding for Brim to follow.
Inside, soft lighting, walls of elegant display cases, magnificent furniture, and deep carpets identified the room as one of the ultraprivate drawing rooms everyone heard of but seldom saw, rooms where the very course of history could be charted quietly-and frequently was. Two tall officers stood talking before a blazing fireplace-one a human, the other a flighted being from A'zurn. Their uniforms were heavy with ponderous badges of rank and decoration.
Khios stopped approximately halfway into the room and bowed from the waist. "Your Majesties," he said. "May I present Lieutenant Helmsman Wilf Brim, Imperial Fleet, on detached duty from I.F.S. Truculent." Then he rose to his full height and indicated the two men. "Lieutenant, Crown Prince Onrad, your host, and Crown Prince Leopold of A'zurn." Startled, Brim saluted while Khios clicked his heels and bowed once more,, then silently exited the room, closing the door gently behind him.
Nearly panicked and alone in the center of the room, Brim set his chin, collected himself as best he could, and strode purposefully to a position a few respectful paces before the two young dignitaries. He bowed, then stood looking first at one and then the other. "Your Majesties," he said, seizing his emotions with an icy calm, "I am honored."
Onrad spoke first. He looked to be approximately Brim's age and was powerfully built, with the square jaw and thick neck of a natural athlete. Expensively attired, his basic dress, was the tailored blue uniform of a vice admiral. "So you are Wilf Brim," he remarked, "the Carescrian who has caused all that trouble for Great Uncle Triannic." His broad smile nearly squeezed his eyes shut. "Ha, ha! Well, your partisan campaign to prove out old Wyrood's Reform Act certainly seems to be working impressively." He nodded to the A'zurnian beside him. "Isn't that right, Leo?"
Crown Prince Leopold exuded an ageless, almost ethereal restraint which, in its own understated manner, stood out like a beacon from all the heavy magnificence of the ornate drawing room. His folded wings reached at least three golden irals from the floor, his eyes were the huge eyes of a hunter hawk, and his look conveyed the very soul of dignity. Here was a man who never acted in haste-nor in passion. He was beautifully clothed in the elegant, old-fashioned uniform of a brigadier general, and he stood with one polished boot on the high hearth. He also smiled at Brim-his an analytical and questioning smile that seemed to test its recipient without so much as. a touch of challenge. "A 'gentle and daring leader,' as my cousins put it," he said. His eyes narrowed and he seemed to look into the very soul of Brim's existence. "A 'complete' leader."
"There, Leo," Onrad interrupted hotly, "tell that to the anti-Wyrood idiots. They are hard to convince."
Leopold sighed and stared into the fire for a moment. "Even they will learn, Onrad-or surely none of us will survive this tumult." He nodded his head. "But those very factions will eventually learn-because the Wilf Brims of this Universe have the strength to persist, and in the final analysis, they do not." Then he reached to the top of the great carved mantelpiece and took a golden chest in his hands. Stepping to a position opposite Brim, he opened it and extracted a tiny crystal image of a winged being-the same figure Brim instantly remembered from the twin pillars outside the quarry on A'zurn where Hagbut and his troops were held prisoner. It was suspended on a small red ribbon. The Prince smiled again. "I have sent all the meaningless text that goes with this to Gimmas Haefdon, Lieutenant," he said. "The only importance is that you understand how much your actions were appreciated in Magalla'ana-and that we shall never forget your dedication to your mission and my countrymen." He grinned a momentary, lopsided grin. "Lieutenant Wilf Ansor Brim," he said, "in the presence of your liege, the Crown Prince Onrad, I award you the A'zurnian Order of Cloudless Flight." He peered deeply into Brim's eyes. "Wear it proudly," he said. "The decoration has never before been awarded to a groundling." Then he fastened the ribbon to the left breast Of Brim's tunic and resumed his original position at the fireplace.
Brim bowed again. "Thank you, Your Majesties," he said.
The A'zurnian nodded.
"And see that you take good care of my cousin Margot," Onrad added with a grin and a half-sensed wink. "I have a distinct feeling you constitute the only reason we shall be honored with her blond presence this evening."
Brim felt his face flush. Then he boldly returned the Prince's smile. "I shall certainly attempt to do that, Your Majesty," he said quietly. After this, be stepped back, saluted, and exited the room, closing the door softly behind him. Outside, he stood for a moment gathering his thoughts. Mentally, he felt as if be had just come through a pitched space battle. Then he shrugged to himself. It certainly was a long way from the ore barges-not an inconsiderable accomplishment for a Carescrian!
He made his way back into the growing crowd, accepting another goblet of meem and scanning the room for Margot's blond curls-unsuccessfully-when a small stir occurred at the entrance doors.
"Her Serene Majesty, Princess Margot of the Effer'wyck Dominions," the majordomo announced in a voice notably louder than before. The babble hushed, and heads turned expectantly.
Brim felt his breath catch as she swept through the door on the arm of First Star Lord Beorn Wyrood. No longer was she merely an attractive military officer, she now radiated that particular beauty exclusively reserved for the wealthy and powerful. She was magnificent.
She was wrapped in a meem-colored, full-length gown that crossed in front and tied at the neck, leaving her creamy shoulders and back stunningly bare. A matching sash nipped her waist, and a daring slit revealed enough of a long, shapely leg to considerably raise Brim's temperature. Around her neck, she wore an enormous, single-drop StarBlaze that flashed with an inner fire as she laughed and chatted with the First Lord.
"...had no idea the party was that important," someone whispered behind Brim. "She hardly ever attends these affairs."
"Voot's beard," another said in a low voice. "She's wearing the Stone of the Empire!"
"And LaKarn isn't anywhere in sight."
"Noticed that."
Brim watched transfixed as a small crowd formed around I the couple. In a moment, both crown princes appeared, laughing and talking.
Then, the A'zurnian was bending close to Margot, she whispering in his ear. He grinned his lopsided grin and pulled himself to his full height scanning the ballroom with his enormous eyes-which lighted on Brim and stopped. Smiling, he spoke rapidly to Margot, then she was peering Brim's way, too.
Their eyes met; she smiled-and frowned. In a moment, she was on her way through the crowd, never taking her eyes from him.
And in that instant, Wilf Brim knew for a certainty he was hopelessly in love.
Baldwin, Bill - The Helmsman Chapter 9
THE HELMSMAN
BY BILL BALDWIN
CHAPTER 8
In less than a metacycle, features of the arid surface began to define themselves-ragged mountains, dry riverbeds, the dim flicker of occasional cities. As the scout staggered deeper into the thin atmosphere, wisps of glowing plasma began to lick at the corners of the Hyperscreens, then spread rapidly to the hundred and one protrusions on the hull until they trailed a long, glowing corkscrew of ions like the meteor they had become. Gradually, Brim reduced his course perturbations, flying more and more in a controlled manner until finally, no more than ten thousand irals from the surface, he leveled off and flew a straight and level heading. "Universe!" he laughed, wiping mock perspiration from his brow, "with all that 'damage' to the steering gear, I didn't think I could bring her in at all."
Aft, Amherst slumped in a recliner, head lolling from side to side. "He's only passed out, Lieutenant," Barbousse reported.
"We're entering zone 5," Theada said presently, pointing below through the Hyperscreens. "It's sort of delineated by the mountains and that scar somebody once called a river."
"Very well," Brim replied as he cranked the ship in a wide circle. "Do you suppose that's Cable Route 981 running along the edge of the scarp?"
"Only one I can see," Ursis said. "Of course, who could tell in this desert?"
Brim's eyes followed the ground scar where the cable had been laid. About a third of the way to the mountains, two dust plumes crawled along the endless wastes. The second plume was considerably behind the first, but from its size, it was either a much larger vehicle or it was moving faster-or both. "If that first one's our spy," he said, pointing through the Hyperscreens, "he's going to have company very soon. Anybody see anything else moving?" he asked, easing the scout into a wide circle.
"None," Theada said as the ship returned to its original course.
"Just those two," Ursis agreed.
"All right," Brim said, "we'll go down for a closer look." He rolled the scout on its back, then nosed over into a steep dive that brought them above the second vehicle in a matter of ticks. "Ugh," he grunted aloud. Below was a typical Leaguer tank with three turrets, the kind that ambushed his little convoy back on A'zurn-only this one looked bigger, even from the air. "Let's check on the other one," he said, opening the power gates slightly. The distance evaporated.
"Open lorry," Ursis observed.
"With yellow canisters," Theada added.
"And an '8' on the roof of the cab," Brim finished. "It's our man, I'll bet. Send 'Which way is Avalon?'" he called back to Barbousse.
Only a few ticks later, his display flashed, "VOOT'S BEARD! YOUR SCOUT FOOLED ME. THOUGHT I WAS CAUGHT SURE. ALREADY GOT A TANK ON MY TAIL."
Only moments later, a huge column of dirt and flame shot up to the lorry's right as the tank began to pull in range. The scout bounced when the second blast followed on its heels-aimed this time at them. "CAREFUL," the BURST display spelled out. "POWERFUL TANK."
"So much for our cover," Brim muttered, hauling the scout around into a vertical bank toward the tank and pulling off the lift vector. They fell like a stone toward the desert floor with both cannon blasting wildly at the squat, ugly shape in the distance. Only a few irals from the ground, he whipped the little ship level and jammed on the power. All three Leaguer turrets were firing now. The scout bucked and bounced through the blasts; debris smashed off the Hyperscreens and rattled along the decks. Suddenly, a huge ball of fire from Barbousse's 9l-mmi erupted in front of the tank, sending a shower of rocks and debris hundreds of irals in the air. The big machine reared and skidded sideways in a cloud of dust, then resumed its progress at a somewhat reduced rate of speed, wobbling violently.
"Got his cable follower!" Barbousse yelled exultantly as they flashed overbead. But the tank's turrets were clearly unaffected and the firing continued almost unabated. Brim snapped the scout around and set up another low-level firing rim. This time, Barbousse found his target much earlier, and the whole area near the enemy vehicle exploded in a welter of powerful blasts...
Suddenly, a thundering detonation sent the scout skidding wildly off course with loose articles whistling about like shrapnel and the cabin acrid in swirling black smoke. A monstrous grinding shrieked through the starframe as the left outrigger touched down and skidded across the plain in a cloud-of dust and debris. Brim struggled with the controls, helplessly watching the scout slide into a ground loop, then the hull ricocheted from a flat outcropping of desert rock and somehow wobbled level, trailing a long column of dirty black smoke that thinned and disappeared as Ursis calmly manipulated the N-ray mains and extinguished the fires.
"Ninety-one's gone, Lieutenant," Barbousse yelled above the din. "Blew the whole ventral turret away, he did."
Brim continued to fight the controls, achieving first an even keel, then an immediate turn away from the tank with a maximum acceleration dash toward a run of low, rocky hills, the generators bellowing angrily in overload.
"What are we going to do now?" Theada yelled in frustration as they pulled into the lee of the palisades and set up a low holding pattern. "Our little 60-mmi won't even dent that armored cockroach-and the spy's still out there with nothing but a good head start."
Brim bit his lip, concentrated. Quickly. Quickly. "The mines!" he shouted. "Of course! Even a near miss ought to be enough to take a tank out for good. Right, Barbousse?"
Barbousse grinned. "One star mine coming up, Lieutenant," he said.
"Wait a cycle!" Ursis interrupted suddenly. "The spy-is he far enough from the blast zone? We don't want to take him out, too."
"Easily far enough by now, Nik," Theada answered. "Especially in this thin atmosphere. Remember, he was almost beyond the range of that tank-and those big hummers shoot a long way."
"Very well," Brim said through clenched teeth. "Here we go." Wind roared across the great rent in the bottom of their hull as he banked gently to let the speed build up. Then he cranked the little ship over into a dizzying vertical turn that barely cleared the barren hillside. Jagged rocks whizzed by only irals from their starboard generator. By the time the tank was back in sight, they were accelerating wildly and blending into the background. They took the big machine completely by surprise-in the last ticks, Brim pictured its crew huddled over the traction controls in an attempt to drive with no cable followers.
"Star mine's...free!" Barbousse yelled. Brim heard the hum of the repulsion rings, then the scout flashed over the tank-still accelerating. Two more near misses sent rock and debris over their stern before the whole world turned a blinding white-no shadows, no details, only white. The Hyperscreens dimmed, flashed on again.
And then the shock wave...
Incredible noise. Perhaps no noise-maybe all noise. The impact became an entire existence. One moment, they were speeding across the desert floor, the next, a giant hand smashed the little ship sideways like an insect. Brim struggled with the controls, easing the hull this way and that-instinct alone guiding his hands and feet as he fought to soften the shocks to the starframe. Then they were tumbling mindlessly through a gigantic storm of pure flame. Outside on the deck, only hullmetal survived-covers, attachment points, cables, all their accessories either burned or melted in long runnels along the deck. In the back of the control cabin, someone was screaming over the suit channel in the gagging, fright-choked voice of a wild animal. Brim glanced over his shoulder. It was Amherst, tears streaming from his cheeks, faceplate sprayed with spittle. Nothing he could do. He tried to ignore it.
Then, quickly as it came, the fire storm disappeared and they were once again flying in clear air. Amherst's insane screaming died to a series of wracked sobs, then faded to silence. "By Voot's meem-stained beard!" Ursis roared in glee. "It is possible we may yet survive in spite of our fearless Helmsman." The control cabin erupted in laughter-for a moment."
"COMM channels are going full tilt," Barbousse reported from aft. "I think the whole Universe is yapping at once. Maybe you'd better listen in, sir," he suggested.
Brim nodded. "Take the controls," he said to Theada, then brought up a COMM display. It took only moments to discover that every patrol craft in the vicinity was on its way at full speed. He squandered a few ticks to inspect the result of their mine. Most of the blast had gone upward, blowing out the top of the atmosphere. All that remained was a shallow, blackened crater perhaps a few thousand irals in diameter-that, and a still-rising pillar of dust and debris topped by a great roiling cloud with a curious wisp on its top.
"Looks like we stopped him," Theada commented dryly.
Brim nodded solemnly. "Yeah," he said, "scanning the terrain. In the distance, he found the little wisp of dust again and smiled grimly to himself. "All right, Truculents," he said, "let's go pick up our spy. We're going to have a lot of company in a very short time-and none of them will want to help.
Moments later, they were back over the lorry. "IF YOU'RE THROUGH PLAYING WITH THAT TANK, LET'S GO HOME," the spy sent.
Brim laughed. "Tell him we'll do that," he said to Barbousse as he eyed the cable right-of-way. It went straight as a die, all the way to the horizon. He nodded his head. "Send this as I say It," he ordered. "'Put the lorry on automatic. We must pick you up on the fly. Affirmative?'"
"YOU BET," appeared almost instantly in the BURST display.
Brim turned to Amherst, who was now awake and keeping a frightened silence in the recliner. "Will you help, Lieutenant Amherst?" he asked.
"Help you Carescrian? On this insane mission?"
"You could help," Brim said as he eased the ship over the speeding lorry.
"I shall help none of you!" Amherst hissed. "You are only doing this so you can show me in a poor light to my superiors." In the corner of his eye, Brim watched the First Lieutenant fold his arms and close his eyes.
"He is no longer with us, Wilf Ansor," Ursis growled.
Brim nodded. "Very well," he said. "Nik, do you feel reasonably strong today?"
"Strong enough," came the reply. "What is it I can do?"
"I need somebody out there by the boarding ladder to help me bring this crate alongside the lorry-then lend a hand when our spy climbs on board. Feel up to that?"
"Unless our spy is too fat to lift, Wilf Ansor," the Bear laughed. Brim heard him pull his helmet on.
"Just in case we do get a fat one," Theada interrupted, "I think I'll join Nik out there, if that's all right with you, Wilf."
"I would welcome the assistance," Ursis said.
"Go to it, Jubal," Brim replied with a grin. Presently, the two appeared on E607's open utility deck, leaning into the wind and clipping their safety cords to eyelets built into the deck. Each had a coil of cushioned life-saving cable over his shoulder.
Then there was time for nothing but concentration. He made a final thrust adjustment, pulling above and to one side of the speeding lorry. His scout was nearly sixty irals in length and twenty wide-the spy's lorry little more than a third in any dimension. He made no attempt to delude himself concerning the difficulty of the job-this one would make barge piloting look easy! Starship's weren't made for precision work at low speeds and navigational tolerances measured in rrals. It would take only one sideswipe by his gravity pods and the whole trip would be wasted. He concentrated on the lorry, flying by instinct alone. "How are we doing out there, Nik?" he asked into the short-range COMM.
The Bear peered over the rail. "A little too far left, Wilf," j he said, "but just about the right height."
Gingerly, Brim nudged the controls to starboard.
"A couple of irals closer yet," the Bear said. "You can tell him to open the door now, but it's still too far to jump."
"Send, 'Open your door,'" Brim ordered Barbousse, then nudged the controls still further starboard.
"Watch!" Ursis said sharply, holding a warning hand aloft. "That's almost enough."
This time, Brim willed the ship's change.
"Perfect," Ursis declared. "Hold it right there. He's got the door open. I'm going to throw him the end of this rope. Tell him to tie it under his shoulders."
"Got it," Brim said through clenched teeth, half afraid to move for fear of bumping the ship into disaster. "Send, 'Tie the cable securely under your arms,'" he said to Barbousse. A moment later, Ursis lofted the coil.
"Missed!" the Bear growled in frustration.
"Proximity warning's beginning to flash, Lieutenant," Barbousse called out. "We'll have company any cycle now."
"Very well," Brim acknowledged. But there was nothing he could do as he watched Ursis coil the cable for another try. It was now-or it was never for the spy. If he was going to escape from this planet, he would have to fly the ship out in the next few cycles.
Again, the Bear lofted his coil. Brim gritted his teeth. "Please don't miss," he whispered to himself.
"He got it that time," Ursis said, relief sounding clearly in his voice. "And he's tying it under his arms. Can you move just a little closer again, Wilf? We've drifted a few irals."
"Wilf!" Theada suddenly screeched. "Pull up. An overpass! Dead ahead!"
Brim looked up-even at their low ground speed, the bridge was only a few ticks distant. "Hang on to that rope, Nik" he yelled, then, "Barbousse, tell him to jump, now!" After that, he had no more options. He waited approximately one more tick, then bunted the ship over the bridge, flinging both Ursis and Theada to the limits of their safety cords as he zoomed over the top. He heard Ursis grunt from the shock.
"Don't lose him, Nik," Theada whispered in a strangled voice as he fought to wrap the cable around himself. "I've got it now. You go pull him aboard!"
The spy-dressed in a nondescript Leaguer space suit-was now clinging desperately to the ship's rail with both hands and feet as Ursis arrived at his side. Less than a tick later, the Bear hoisted him to safety, and all three struggled out of view toward the air lock.
Brim immediately hauled the little starship around on a low-altitude trajectory perpendicular to the cableway, watching the lorry speed away in the distance. Considerable time would elapse before someone discovered anything wrong with that, he thought-as if it mattered anymore! Every ship in the League seemed to be on its way to investigate the explosion of Barbousse's star mine.
Then his thoughts were abruptly shattered by Ursis' deep bass voice, which-normally placid in all circumstances-was strangely reduced to little more than an awed whisper.
"Princess Effer'wyck, Your Majesty," the Bear stammered over the suit circuit. "W-What in the name of the Great Mother Bear are you doing here?"
The name struck Brim like a thunderbolt. "Margot?" he called over his shoulder incredulously.
"Wilf?" a weak but unmistakable voice answered in surprise.
"Margot! Universe!"
"Jubal," Ursis growled, "perhaps you could take the controls while..."
"Oh...ah...yes. Right away, Nik," Theada said as he raced for the right-hand Helmsman's seat.
Heartbeats later, Brim lifted the Leaguer space helmet to reveal a tumble of golden curls. Margot's face was streaked with dust and perspiration. "Universe," he whispered again in amazement. "If I'd had any...."
She smiled-and frowned. "If I'd had any idea." She shook her head. "I still can't believe it's you, Wilf." She was silent for a moment as if she were gathering strength. "No sleep..." she said, "...four days. I'm all right. Need to rest though."
"Wilf!" Theada called shakily from the helm. "I think we're going to need you up here right away at the controls. Company's arrived."
"What's the best way Out of here?" Brim asked, taking Margot's arms and looking into her tired eyes.
She thought a moment. "Zone 5 here isn't usually- patrolled much during daylight." She shrugged. "A few light picket ships. But there's talk about some crazy old cruiser. I tried to get some information about that, but I had to leave."
"We've seen that one," Brim assured her. "It's real." Then be frowned. "Best bet's up, then?"
"Straight up, Wilf," she said. "And keep on going right out into deep space. That's what I'd do, anyway."
"Sounds good to me," he said. "We'll try it."
While Brim made his way forward to the helm, Barbousse swept Margot into a spare recliner beside the unconscious Amherst and helped reseal her helmet at the neck. "Just in case, Lieutenant Effer'wyck," he said grimly as he took his place at the weapons console.
Brim turned in his seat and squinted through the aft Hyperscreens-as Theada warned, two flying objects were in pursuit, but still too distant for him to determine a type.
"What now?" the younger Helmsman asked.
As he took over the controls, Brim shook his bead and smiled. "We are going home, Jubal," he said simply. "Right away." With that, he set the generators to "EMERGENCY MILITARY" and pulled the powerful little scout into a vertical climb with Ursis working the power consoles in an orderly frenzy of movement.
The two ships following also pulled into a climb, but whatever their make, the scout handily outdistanced them, and they soon disappeared into the ground clutter below.
"Left those two nicely enough," Theada commented.
"Too bad we couldn't outrun their KA'PPAs," Brim said. "We'll have a welcoming committee waiting for us out there ahead."
"I see them in the long-distance target scanner already, Lieutenant," Barbousse said calmly.
"As I am sure they have us in theirs," Ursis growled.
Just then, the authentication key sounded, but this time with an ominous clanging like an alarm-which it was.
Brim shook his head. "That's it for the authentication system," he warned. "The key's run out."
"The tank was onto us anyway," Theada snorted just as space flashed violently in a rolling ball of pure energy that detonated just off the port beam.
"Authentication is now a very moot point," Ursis rumbled. "Let us see how well that 60-mmi projector forward works against this new enemy."
"Looks like four of those little N-81 picket ships Lieutenant Effer'wyck warned us about," Barbousse reported. " A lot thinner skinned than the tank."
Theada concentrated on the firing controls. Brim watched the turret index across the forward deck. Moments later, a stream of energy blazed from the disruptor, accompanied by a rumble that vibrated the deck. A flash in the far distance ahead blossomed into a glowing orange puffball, then subsided.
"Missed!" Theada fumed amid a welter of return fire that smashed at the scout's thin hullmetal sides like rollingthunder. The ship bounced sharply as a jagged section of hullmetal railing was carried away with an ear-jarring crash and a cloud of sparkling radiation. "Sure wish Anastasia were here to run this thing."
Brim frantically zigzagged all over the sky trying to avoid the bursts. "Thank Voot they only carry a couple of 70-mmi's on board," be said through gritted teeth. "But eight of 'em can mean real trouble."
A second volley of fire burst from he scout's nose, resulting in a brief flare-up ahead. "Make that three N-81s," Theada said proudly-and with a little surprise in his voice as well. He was immediately drowned out as he sent off another volley of discharges. He peered into the target scanner. "Scattered the bastards that time," he said. Outside, the return fire slackened considerably.
"That's the way, Jubal!" Brim-exclaimed. He listened to the miraculously steady beat of the two rugged Klaipper-Hiss generators blasting them ever faster through space, then glanced back at Margot in the recliner and felt his heart soar. Dirty and tired beyond all reason, she was anything but the sensuous woman with whom he rather goatishly desired to share a bed. He sensed his feelings toward her had developed a lot farther than that. Glancing at Ursis, he was rewarded by a wink. As usual, the Bear seemed to read his mind.
Soon, Theada began to index his disruptor again. "What do you think?" he asked Brim.
The Cacescrian smiled and scanned the heavens. "I think we're going to catch it from all sides pretty soon, Jubal," he said. "So keep an eye peeled. And make every shot count-because it will. If we can break out into open space, we'll be all right. Not much the League builds can catch this tub running flat out on its Drive crystal." He felt the ship tremble as Ursis dumped their emergency power cell into the energy supply.
"If we do not need it now," the Bear explained with a grin, "we probably will never need it."
And abruptly the enemy returned-their patrol vessels rushing in this time from all sides. Space came alive with flashing detonations. The scout bounced through volley after volley, shouldering aside a succession of hits, but the punishment soon began to tell. A whole section of port Hyperscreens suddenly dissolved into a network of flaming cracks, then went dark. A direct hit carried away the three aft repulsion rings from the open utility deck. Five simultaneous flare-ups smashed their bow off course and blew the cowling from the starboard plasma injectors-though the generator miraculously continued to function normally. Theada had the 60-mmi back in action immediately. Now, however, the attackers were widely separated. Desperately, he fired this way and that, but to little avail-he had no time to aim before he was forced to change his target. Outside the remaining Hyperscreens space was now alive with explosions of dazzling light and radiation. The little ship bounced and bucketed through the concussions as Brim desperately zigzagged in all directions.
Moments later, the Hyperscreens pulsed again-this time remaining dark for a full five ticks while the whole control room shook with a massive series of thunderous tremors. Loose gear clattered to the deck as the bow erupted in a cloud of sparks and debris that smashed back along the deck and grated deafeningly along the walls of the control cabin. Green sparkling radiation cascaded over the control cabin and vomited into the wake-when it cleared, the 60-mmi was completely gone, replaced by a jagged, glowing hole.
"Where did that come from?" Brim exclaimed over the din of the straining generators. "Wasn't even a direct hit!" Two more stupendous explosions erupted off to starboard, smashing the scout off course again and pulsing what was left of the Hyperscreens.
"Sweet thraggling Universe," Theada exclaimed. "I see it! Over there, just coming up from the shadow of the planet."
"The old cruiser!" Brim yelled as he suddenly realized he had flown into a classic trap. The little patrol craft were actually herding him like a grazing animal. His mind raced furiously as he crankled wildly through the sky. With no more disruptors to use against the patrol craft, escape was virtually impossible-any way be might choose to go, the huge disruptors of the cruiser could easily destroy him. Yet the only way out now was past the old ship. He made his decision swiftly. "Barbousse," he yelled, "prime those torpedo tubes!"
"They're primed, Lieutenant," Barbousse declared presently.
Brim swung the scout's shattered bow toward the cruiser and sighted carefully through his target display. He set his jaw and frowned. A bad deflection, that, low and close to the disk of the planet-but it was the best he was going to get. "Here we go!" he yelled. More explosions battered the racing scout in every direction, but each time Brim fought his way back on course. As they approached, space itself seemed to catch fire with shattering detonations and radiation from the big ship's disruptors. "Ready," he yelled.
"Ready," Barbousse answered tensely.
Outside, a torrent of explosions ripped the blackness of space. Brim gritted his teeth and held a steady course while he struggled to acquire the target. He had only a single chance. Every passing tick was an eternity.
"Now," he called at last. "Fire both!"
The scout jumped as the powerful Leaguer torpedoes blasted from their tubes on either side of the ruined 60-mmi disruptor turret.
"Torpedoes running, Lieutenant," Barbousse confirmed.
"Reload!" Brim ordered, skidding to port just in time to avoid a whole string of monstrous detonations. Powerful machinery whined and labored on either side of the deckhouse as the spare torpedoes were drawn from their storage canisters and inserted into the torpedo tubes. An eternity later, two thumps announced the task accomplished.
"They're primed, Lieutenant," Barbousse announced.
"Fire both!" Brim shouted.
Again the ship jumped.
"Torpedoes running."
By now, every disruptor on the old cruiser that could bear was in rapid fire at them. "Ready the Drive, Nik," Brim warned.
"The Drive is already on standby, Wilf," Ursis assured him. Brim judged the fast-narrowing distance carefully. Hesitated one more tick, then, "Fire it off!" he yelled.
The Drive crystal came to life at the precise instant the first two torpedoes found their target-they struck dead amidships with an immense explosion that immediately hid the middle third of the old cruiser with a roiling ball of blinding flame and radiation. And now E607 was rushing down at it with the acceleration only a Drive can provide.
"We're going to hit," Amherst shrieked over the suit channel.
A millitick later, the second two torpedoes slammed into what remained of the Leaguer's midsection-a dull glow boiling out into surrounding space until her hull opened like a rotten fruit. Her KA'PPA mast subsided slowly into the seething mass of energy, then suddenly took off in the opposite direction like a missile. Simultaneously, another glow began forward until the whole ship seemed to collapse inward in a explosion of starflame. Slowly, she rolled to starboard, her massive hull breaking raggedly into two parts at a gaping hole in her side.
Brim steered straight for the opening-he was too close and too fast for any other choice. The little scout pitched and rolled in the awesome shock waves. Then they were through to open space in less than a tick, Brim steering by instinct alone, He remembered an instant of great ruined galleries, flame, and destruction on either side-and debris. Something huge smashed past the control cabin, ripping a deep gash along the deck and opening the spare torpedo compartment like a ripe ca'amba. The Drive surged for a moment all out of control-a colossal hammer stroke smashed at the hull, then Gandom's Ve effect started and moments later they were in Hyperspace. When Brim turned in his seat, the giant wreck was only a flicker in the aft Hyperscreens, with the Drive growling raggedly beneath their feet and the generators spooling to a stop in their scarred outriggers.
"It probably looked as if we blew up with the cruiser," Theada commented in a voice still weak from excitement. "We were on our way into Hyperspace before we cleared the wreck-age.
"No doubt," Ursis grumbled. "Unfortunately, whatever it was we collided with nearly did for the Drive, too." He frowned at his readouts and rubbed his jaw. "Ten thousand LightSpeed is the best speed we'll get in Hyperspace-unless of course you wish to be out of phase with time."
Brim shuddered. Everyone knew about occasional time castaways. He decided long ago he preferred death-of any kind. "Can we maintain ten thousand LightSpeed?" he asked.
"That, fortunately, poses no particular problem," the Bear replied.
Brim shrugged. "Let's go for it, then," he said. "Even a little Hysperspeed is better than none at all."
"As you say, Wilf Ansor," Ursis said. The Drive continued its uneven thunder.
Brim quickly took stock of the rest of the ship. All in all, it appeared to be in reasonably workable form, considering the treatment he'd given it during the last few metacycles. In the corner of his eye, he saw Margot remove her helmet-Barbousse was at her side in a moment. She looked at Brim through tired, bloodshot eyes, her face so drawn she was hardly recognizable.
"I-I watched that, Wilf," she said with awe in her weak voice. "I watched you. No wonder you're building such a name for yourself."
"Desperation, as usual," Brim said with a smile. "I can't do anything unless I'm in trouble."
"Oh, Wilf," Margot pouted with a tired grin, "you are impossible, aren't you?" She smiled sleepily, then her eyes closed and her head lolled onto her shoulder.
Barbousse opened her space suit at the wrist and gently counted her pulse. "She's asleep, Lieutenant," he asserted with a wink. "I think you've got this mission just about complete."
"Not until we get that lady aboard her pickup ship," Brim said. "But I guess I'll even be surprised if we don't pull that off pretty soon, considering what we've come through so far."
Then he turned to Amherst. "All right, Number One," he said without emotion, "now we're on our way home-as you wished. You'd better get yourself cleaned up and back in command."
E607's rendezvous with Margot's pickup ship took place only metacycles after they limped from the boundaries of the League at ten thousand LightSpeed. This time, they were not met by a lightly armed reconnaissance craft. Instead, the massive form of a heavy cruiser hove into view in what was left of the forward Hyperscreens-signaling imperiously for an immediate linkup.
After Brim matched speeds and came alongside, the ships were quickly connected by mooring beams and a brow extended from the cruiser to the scout's scarred and dented well deck. In moments, the Carescrian found himself alone with Margot in the control cabin, the others conveniently hurrying through the air lock after Ursis-who had Amherst firmly by the elbow.
Brim carefully slaved his controls to the larger ship, then slipped from the helm and made his way aft, where he bent over Margot's sleeping form and gently placed his hand on her shoulder.
She opened her tired eyes slowly-blinked-then opened her arms. In a moment, Brim embraced her. "How I've dreamed of holding you," he whispered, his heart beating out of control.
"I've dreamed of you, too, Wilf," she said breathlessly. "It got me through the bad times back there." She trembled. "I never did that reset we talked about back at Prosperous," she said. "I couldn't."
Brim felt a thrill course through his whole body. He looked into her bloodshot eyes. "Nor did I," he said with a passion he had never before experienced. Then their lips touched, hers soft and wet against his. For a dizzy moment, the war ceased to exist-only Margot and her lips and her breath and her arms and her crazy, crazy wet lips....
Abruptly, someone was hammering on the aft Hyperscreens. Brim surfaced just in time to see Barbousse knocking gently from the well deck. Behind him, Amherst was leading a group of officers through the wreckage toward the air lock. The newcomers were dressed in elegant battle suits that clearly had never seen a battle. "We've got visitors, Margot," he warned.
She continued to hold him for a moment, then released her grip. "I want you to hold me again, Wilf," she whispered, peering intently into his eyes. "I don't know bow, but, 'Can e'er I bid these joys farewell?/No greater bliss shines out among the stars.'"
"I'll get to where you are somehow," Brim said, Lacerta's poetry glowing like a brand in his memory as the air lock hissed. He got to his feet unsteadily, his heart racing.
"Together," Margot whispered while he helped her from the recliner. Then the others were inside, doffing their helmets and looking around the little control cabin as if its clutter might stain their battle suits. "Princess Effer'wyck?" a bowing commander inquired, ignoring Brim as if he were part of the ship's equipment. The man was short, and inside his helmet he wore a too-neat mustache.
"Lieutenant Effer'wyck, if you please, Commander," Margot corrected. Then, turning to Brim, she said, "I shall remain on Avalon for a time, Wilf. If Fortune wills, we shall meet there. Otherwise, Gimmas." She touched his hand, then reached for her space helmet. "Thank you forever," she whispered-less than a cycle later, she led three of the officers through the air lock, across the ruined well deck, and out of Brim's sight.
The remaining officer placed a hand on Amherst's shoulder and scanned the burned and splintered deck outside. "Looks as if the rescue wasn't all that easy, Puvis," he said, removing his helmet. He was tall and elegant, even in a battle suit. Like Amherst, he had a long patrician nose, narrow-set, sensitive eyes, and another perfectly groomed wisp of mustache.
Amherst colored. "Ah...no. It w-wasn't, Uncle Shelgar," he stammered, looking at Brim pleadingly.
"We accomplished our mission, Commander," Brim said.
"That's the important part."
"Yes, you brought the Princess back," Shelgar said, nodding his head, "thereby avoiding a large and nasty galactic incident." He laughed. "She won't do that again, I'll tell you-they've reassigned her permanently to Avalon this time. Why, when the Emperor found what she was up to, he was furious. Perfectly furious."
"She is next in line for the throne of Effer'wyck, isn't she?" Amherst observed. "Sort of a crown princess, except they don't use the term there." He frowned. "How did she get herself such an assignment in the first place?"
"A strong-willed youngster," Shelgar chuckled. "They say she usually gets what she wants." He smiled. "And from what I hear, she did a perfectly superb job of what she was doing. All very hush-hush, you know." He took a moment to stare at the wreckage-strewn decks, peering intently at the jagged, blackened hole where Theada's 60-mmi used to be. "But," he continued, holding up an index finger, "I did not remain on your, ah, bridge here to discuss the Princess. I have orders for you, Puvis, and also for what is left of this little starship of yours.
"Sir?" Amherst asked.
"First," Shelgar said, "you are ordered to return with us in the cruiser-your father's personal and direct wishes, of course. He'll want to bestow your decorations himself."
"I see, yes," Amherst said, his eyes brightening for the first time since the mission began. "I have a few things in the cabin, forward," he said. "If you will be so good as to pass the remainder of the orders to Brim, my Helmsman, I shall be ready to leave momentarily."
Shelgar nodded and watched Amherst disappear into the companionway before he turned to Brim. "So you are the Carescrian Helmsman," he said, folding his arms and smiling.
"Yes, sir," Brim answered uncertainly.
"Regula Collingswood speaks highly of you, Lieutenant," Shelgar said. "I assume you flew the mission?"
"Some of it," Brim answered.
"I won't ask any embarrassing questions, Brim," Shelgar asserted with an ironic smile. "I've already formed my own guesses about the nature of young Amherst's contribution from what I long ago learned of my brother's son." He winked. "So I also won't bother to read the official version when it appears in the Journal." He laughed quietly. "Enough of that," he said.
"Politics disgust me-and time grows short. I think you'll like your orders-they get you to Avalon just as soon as you can coax this clapped-out wreck to fly you there."
"Did you say Avalon, sir?" Brim asked, heart suddenly racing.
"You're to take what's left of this scout back to the Technical Intelligence Center, Brim. You can catch a return ride to Truculent from there. And I shall convey the same information to Her Majesty, the Princess Effer'wyck. If I am any judge of quick looks, it will no doubt soften the shock of her reassignment."
Brim felt his face flush. "Th-Thank you, sir," he gulped. "But wouldn't it be a lot quicker to tow us with you? We'll be quite awhile getting there at ten thousand LightSpeed."
"Quicker for you," Shelgar said with a smile, "but a lot slower for us with you trailing at the end of an optical hawser. The Emperor wants Princess Effer'wyck safely under his jurisdiction 'without delay' which means a full-speed run back to Avalon as it is."
"Aye, sir," Brim grumped.
"You'll both survive," Shelgar assured him with a smile. "And speaking of orders-which we weren't-the text of yours ought to be finished downloading by now into your COMM system-read it for the details." He grinned. "Incidentally, Regula asked me to pass this along, too." He took a small metal box from a pocket on his forearm and passed it to Brim. "I just so happened to have one of these lying around in my kit-mine once, now it's yours. You can pass it on yourself someday."
Brim frowned and opened the box. His heart stopped.
"Congratulations," Shelgar said. "From what I bear, you've earned it, full Lieutenant Thin." He laughed. "You'll find we've downloaded all the documentation for that, too. If it's high-flown boredom you're after, it'll make good reading." He clapped the speechless Brim on his shoulder as Amherst reentered the control cabin. "Ready, Puvis?" he asked placing his helmet on his head.
"I certainly am, Uncle," Amherst replied, donning his own helmet. He turned to Brim. "Take care of things as well as you can without me, Brim," he said.
Brim gritted his teeth. "I shall do that, Number One," he said.
"Yes, I'm sure you will," Shelgar said, pushing Amherst into the air lock before him. He winked at Brim as he stepped through himself. "I shall pass along that message we discussed," he said. "And congratulations again." Then he was gone.
Scant ticks later, mooring beams to the cruiser winked out and the big starship bore up for Avalon, disappearing in the blackness with an emerald glow that lingered for nearly a quarter of a metacycle before it faded away. Brim grinned while the remainder of the Truculents clambered through the air lock, ripping off their battle helmets and congratulating him for his promotion all at once. Miraculously, Ursis and Barbousse had procured large bottles of Logish meem-apparently from the emptiness of space itself. He laughed, basking in the warmth of their good wishes, happily clicking goblets with each in turn (first full and right side up, then empty and upside down). Inside, however, his glee stemmed from a different source altogether. He was going to Avalon-and Margot. Somehow, a mere promotion in grade paled in comparison!
It took the Truculents nearly twenty Standard days to nurse the crippled scout into native space, but at last E607's cracked and scarred Hyperscreens began to fill with the glittering star that comprised the heart of the galaxy itself. In due the mighty triad of Asterious blazed forth like a giant beacon suspended above the Universe, drenching all it contained with a glorious golden radiance-and soon thereafter, the five blue-green worlds hove into view: Proteus for science, Melia for commerce, Ariel for communications, Helios for shipping, and The city-planet Avalon herself-throbbing epi-center of an empire that spanned the very galaxy and beyond.
Brim's Orders specified signing the scout over to the scientific community on Proteus, and accordingly (on the thirty-second day of the voyage), he slowed to Hypospace, rounded the Vernal-204 space buoy, and set up his final approach to the gleaming planet of Imperial science. With the scout's seemingly indestructible generators rumbling steadily in his ears, he was passed through to the military sector and entered the spaceport traffic pattern when the last flickers of reentry plasma cleared from his Hyperscreens. Below sprawled three circular clusters of buildings and laboratories known through the Empire as the source of nearly half the important military technology developed in the last hundred years.
He eased E607 into the downrange leg of the traffic pattern while Theada trimmed ship for a dry-land planetfall. As the Klaipper-Hisses began to spool up, a Military Harbor Master appeared in Brim's COMM display and cleared them on to the complex.
"All hands to stations for planetfall. All hands to stations for planetfall," Theada announced on the ship's speakers.
Brim rolled left through an abbreviated base leg for immediate transition to final amid running footsteps and alarm buzzers as landing crews scattered to their positions. When the ship righted, he lined up on one of the long Becton-type gravity-cushion tubes (commonly used in place of water for hard-surface touchdowns), carefully pulled off more lift, and established a gentle glide angle, checking the nose in relation to the near end of the fast-approaching tube. Steady as a rock. He smiled. Couldn't mistake this for Gimmas Haefdon-no wind!
He made one final power reduction directly over the green-flashing ALPHA beacon, then energized the lift modifiers, held his speed steady, and waited for the approach lights to loam up as he rumbled in over the end of the tube. E607 settled solidly onto the long gravity cushion as its shadow dashed in from alongside and became a blurred spot beside them on the right-of-way. When Brim sensed a definite hover, he dumped the modifiers and completed his roll-out with gravity brakes alone, generators rumbling at idle.
His instrument panel was already a satisfying mass of flowing colors and patterns by the time he taxied from the tube at the second turnoff-and amid wild cheering from his travel-weary crew, he finally parked the little ship at a special gravity pool near the military terminal. E607's first and only mission was complete.
"Text, messages for you, Lieutenant Brim," Barbousse announced suddenly from the COMM cabinet, his voice nearly lost in the eager commotion of technicians clambering aboard the little ship from three separate brows.
"What do they say?" Brim asked, busily shutting down the flight systems.
"Appear to be personal, sir," Barbousse yelled. "You'll probably want to display them yourself-beggin' the Lieutenant's pardon, of course."
"I see," Brim said as he activated a COMM globe over his control panel. The short text message cascaded instantly across the display:
I believe the Admiralty has deprived you of any excuse to decline. (Regrets Only)-Margot
Brim's heart raced as he read the first few words. Then he frowned. "Godille function?" "Admiralty?" He looked up just as Ursis switched over to external gravity-and almost fell out of his recliner. Swallowing hard, he wrested control of his heaving stomach, then turned to yell hotly at Barbousse. "Are you sure you got all of that?" he demanded. "It doesn't make any sense at all."
"Which one, sir?" Barbousse asked solicitously. The big generators were spinning down now, and it was a little easier to talk.
"I only got one," Brim yelled, his voice now far too loud in the little control cabin. Everyone turned to stare at him-he felt his face flush.
"But which one, Lieutenant?" Barbousse asked again.
Brim gritted his teeth. "Personal" his foot! 'The one from Margot," he answered in capitulation.
"Oh," Barbousse said with raised eyebrows. "That's the second one, Lieutenant. The first one must have got lost."
"WON-der-ful," Brim fumed.
"I'll send it again," Barbousse said.
Brim thumped back in his recliner, feeling a dozen pairs of eyes at his back. "Thanks," he said, pulling in his neck. Then he swiveled rapidly to face his audience. Eight technicians were expectantly looking over his shoulder at the message globe. "As you were!" he thundered. They scattered to eight tasks elsewhere in the suddenly quiet control cabin. Then the first message cascaded across the globe:
FROM: Lord Avingnon B. Wyrood @ Admiralty/
Avalon
Lieutenant Brim: Your attendance is hereby commanded at a court divertissement by His Majesty, Crown Prince Onrad in tribute to the Honorable Archduke of Godille.
Lordglen House of State
Grand Boulevard of the Cosmos
Avalon
(formal attire)
--------------------------------------------------------
-A. K. Khiös, Secretary to Lord Wyrood
Later, on a tram from the landing field, Brim told the others about his invitation.
"The Lordglen House?" Theada exclaimed. "Universe, Wilf, that's one of the fanciest official palaces of all. How'd you get an invitation there when we stay at the Visitors' Quarters?"
"Friends in high places," Brim laughed evasively, feeling color rise in his cheeks. "Besides, it's just until we ship out tomorrow night."
Ursis laughed and clapped Brim on the shoulder. "I think perhaps you do have such friends, Wilf Ansor, but perhaps not whom you think." He smiled. "I shall be most interested to discover who your sponsor really turns out to be."
Brim never found himself in Avalon's Grand Imperial Terminal without a total sense of architectural majesty. Taken altogether, the huge structure could only be described as incredible with its immense, cloud-filled ceiling, which soared hundreds of irals over a thousand crowded ramps and concourses winding among terraced gardens and colored lagoons.
It was a fitting metaphor to represent the civilization that conceived and built it. Awesome-like the vast collection of worlds and stars it connected.
Making his way to the bustling Quentian Portal, Brim scanned the dozens of curbside lanes for his transportation. A bus? A van? He idly noticed a huge chauffeured limousine skimmer thread its way carefully through the crowd and draw to a halt amid "oohs" and "aim" from the street throng. He watched with interest as the chauffeur dismounted-somebody important was slated for that vehicle (or, he chuckled, a Bear on leave). He continued to scan the other lanes for his own ride.
"Lieutenant Brim?" a voice asked.
Brim turned in surprise to confront the chauffeur, who was small, dressed entirely in light gray, and appeared to be totally bald (bare scalp gleamed all around his peaked cap). "That's me," he said doubtfully.
The man motioned toward the huge skimmer waiting at the curb, sleek, shining, and important. It looked for all the world like some great water creature poised for attack. "Your transportation to the Lordglen House, Lieutenant," he said, a small blond mustache twitching as he spoke.
Brim felt his eyebrows raise. "That's for me?"
The chauffeur laughed. "All the way to Lordglen," he said.
"You're sure I'm not supposed to drive you?" Brim joked as he strode toward the, stately vehicle. "Looks big enough to take a Helmsman."
"Only in traffic, Lieutenant," the chauffeur retorted good-naturedly as he opened the door for Brim. "This time of the day, I can probably handle it myself." Without another word, he climbed into the driver's compartment and the powerful skimmer glided out of the station.
Avalon City proper was laid out in a vast arid of forested parks and urban recumbency at the edge of huge, placid Lake Mersin-actually an inland sea. The Grand Terminal was constructed on an artificial island in the lake and connected to the city proper via a wide causeway named for August Thackary Palidan, first starship commander to circumnavigate the galaxy.
Cruising the causeway at high speed, they soon swung onto, tree-lined Vereker Boulevard and began to follow the shore. Brim looked out at magenta waves beyond the twisted kilgal trees as they swept past. The chauffeur was maneuvering through the heavy traffic with a light and skillful hand-Brim relaxed in the deep cushions of the seat, enjoying every bit of luxury he could absorb.
They breezed past a cool, mork-shaded park dotted with sparkling fountains-full of splashing children. Brim reflected on how long it had been since he'd even seen a child and shook his head. Before Gimmas Haefdon, he guessed. War and children didn't mix so very well-as he so sadly knew.
Traffic was heavier as they neared the inner metropolis, and the closer they came, the more the lanes in both directions contained limousine skimmers like the one in which, he rode, many decorated with embassy crests. One great black machine from the Bright Triad at Ely pulled opposite them in an adjoining lane just as its emergency beacon came on, flashing frantic red, white, and orange in an eye-startling, random sequence. The shining vehicle accelerated quickly, skillfully dodging other traffic and rapidly disappeared in the distance.
To the right, they passed the shimmering Desterro Monument with its colossal spiral of sculpted flame commemorating discovery of the Cold Tetrad of Edrington, center of a gravity drift that collected space debris and invaluable historic artifacts from a million years of space travel. A traditional mecca for peacetime tourists, the monument was now overrun by hundreds of gawking cadets and Blue Capes from all over the Empire. Brim smiled. He'd visited more than once himself.
In a matter of cycles, they were gliding over the first great ruby arch crossing the Grand Achtite Canal, each end of the wide, translucid span guarded by immense crystal warriors gazing at the same section of the sky (as indeed their sculptor had determined they would). Brim recalled a tour guide once pointing out that three similar bridges crossed the canal far downstream at regular intervals, each guarded by the same crystal statues that stared eternally at the same section of the sky: the Achtite Cluster. To the left of the bridge apron, Brim's eye caught the great domed tower of Marva thrusting silver and gold above the skyline with its fluted sides and curious winding concourse that spiraled all the way to the dome like a sparkling vine. Old Queen Adrien herself once lived and studied there before she set off in her little Durax III to discover Porth Grassmere on the far side of Elath. It was a place all Imperial Helmsmen knew-and appreciated.
Farther along, they passed Avalon's famous Kimber Castle, where Cago JaHall composed Solemn Universe and other classics of the same idiom. In later years, Dalgo Hildi had also lived there, but by the time she finally arrived in Avalon, her active career was nearly over. The graceful old building was presently fronted by crystal scaffolding, and workers appeared to be treating its carved metal facade.
While they continued on into the historic Beardmore sector, Brim noted heavy construction wherever he looked. New buildings were going up on nearly every block. Older structures were being rebuilt-scaffolding and cranes everywhere. A good sign, he considered. Avalon was beginning to recover from the initial shock of the war, looking toward the future again-and perceiving the first glimmerings of possible victory.
He sat back, breathed deeply, and sank deeper into the luxuriously padded seat, feeling the smooth power of the skimmer and the skill of its driver. He watched the bustle of the crowded streets, uniforms everywhere.
As they swung through the spacious Courtland Plaza with its famous three-tiered Savoin gravity fountain and onyx reflecting pool, the Imperial Palace momentarilly came into view across an expanse of carefully tended gardens and manicured forests. Huntingdon Gate was its usual confused mass of traffic (reputed challenge even to Avalon's finest chauffeurs). Then the view was obstructed by the squat, glass-walled Estorial Library, where Hobiria Kopp first presented her Korsten Manifesto a full two hundred years prior to Brim's birth. The library had a special poetry section, which he promised he would one day peruse at his leisure-but as usual, not this trip!
At last, Brim's limousine swung onto the long, park-lined Boulevard of the Cosmos and began to slow. Moments later, it stopped gently in a curving driveway before a gracefully understated jade-stone portico: the sprawling Lordglen House of State. It was still early in the day, and the spacious receiving plaza was empty, but Brim could imagine what it would be like later when the guests began to arrive.
A white-gloved footman in a bright red coat and white breeches saluted and opened the door for him. "Lieutenant Brim, sir? Right this way, please," he said with a smile that instantly dissipated the awesome personality of the building itself. Brim rapped "thanks" on the glass separating the passenger and driver compartments, then followed the footman through an imposing two-story doorway. Inside, they crossed a wide entry hail, boots clicking on the flawless obsidian floor. Above, an enormous gold and crystal chandelier reflected light from thousands of polished facets, and at the far end of the room, twin alabaster staircases curved upward to an ornate balcony jutting gracefully above an elaborately carved archway whose polished ebony doors were presently closed. The footman led Brim up the left-hand stairway and through a carved-gold arch into a short hallway whose domed ceiling depicted allegorical scenes painted in an old-fashioned and elegant style. Midway along the left-hand wall, they entered a lift to the fifth floor, where Brim was presented a large golden key and shown into an elegant room furnished with exquisite period furniture and decorated by a collection of artifacts that, even to an untrained eye, were clearly worth the price of a large starship.
"Welcome to Lordglen House, Lieutenant," the footman said as he opened the heavy drapes. "Lord Wyrood has instructed me to attend to all your needs. I have placed a complete formal uniform in the closet to your right, and attempted to provide other, more basic necessities-which you will encounter in the usual places." He bowed. "Should you find I have missed items here and there," he added, "you have only to ring. My name is Keppler-I shall be at your service promptly." With this, he bowed again and exited the room backward, closing the double door quietly behind him.
Brim shook his head as he looked about the tastefully ornate room-a long way from Carescria, this! He peered through the window into a courtyard of perfectly shaped flowering panthon trees whose glowing fruits made the quadrangle look like a miniature Universe of starry galaxies when viewed against the dark paving stones. A stately fountain danced placidly at its center. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment-this level of wealth transcended his understanding completely. He shrugged; none of it had much importance to him anyway. The only reality here was Margot. Once she arrived, everything else would fade to nonimportance.
Brim fidgeted impatiently as he tested the fit of his borrowed dress uniform before a full-length mirror: white tunic with stiff, gold-embroidered collars, epaulets, and high cuffs, dark blue breeches with gold stripe, knee-high parade boots (like polished hullmetal), white gloves, and peaked hat. A rich, red-lined cape was carefully draped on the bed-certainly nothing like the cheap rentals he had known at the Academy.
He-felt a growing sense of excitement as he counted off the cycles before he would see Margot--it was impossible to sit anymore. He paced back and forth across the thick carpet, its softness wasted beneath his boots. Each cycle seemed longer than its predecessor, even though months had passed since the evening he shared with her on Gimmas Haefdon-and those now seemed like moments. Outside, a gentle breeze moved the panthon trees-the weather was perfection. An omen, perhaps? He laughed to himself. All moments with Margot were-perfection, so far as he could remember-he doubted she would disappoint him tonight.
As he stood staring at the patio, a distant chime sounded importantly. Then, in moments, a soft knock came at his door. "Come in," he said. "It's unlocked."
"About ready, sir?" Keppler asked as he stepped into the room. "The reception is under way in the ballroom."
Now that it was time to go. Brim suddenly began to fret about the other guests. Wealthy people, of a certainty. Influential. Powerful. He was no more than a simple Helmsman. What could he have in common with any of them? What could he say worth listening to? Would he make a fool of himself? Suddenly, he felt tired. He wished he could have made other arrangements to see Margot. He never had a chance.
"You look splendid, Lieutenant," Keppler said. "They'll all be jealous-especially with your action record." He helped, Brim place his cape properly over one shoulder in the latest fashion. "Now stand back," he ordered imperiously. "Let me make a last-moment check."
Brim suffered further adjustments to his collar, cape, and an offending epaulet before Keppler was finished.
"Perfect, sir," the footman said finally as he nodded his approval. "A number of important people down there expect to meet you, so you'll want to look your best." With that, he gently propelled Brim from the room and into the lift.
Only a few cycles later, Brim found himself returned to the balcony at the head of the double staircase. Voices and soft music surged from below as elegant couples filed slowly in from the portico and disappeared through the doorway beneath his feet. He paused for a moment, reflecting on his failure to submerge a natural Carescrian irritation with these scions of wealth and privilege. While they enjoyed unbelievable comfort and luxury, men and women of more humble origins were elsewhere locked in mortal combat to protect the very Imperial existence. Why were these people exempted? Then he grimly laughed at the folly he had just concocted. Here he was, himself dressed like the worst sort of professional courtiers-and in the absolute thick of it! He snorted and started down the staircase, contemplating his own double standard. The huge ebony doors were open now, eight gray-clad footmen with ornate symbolic pikes flanking either side. Beyond, an elegant throng preened and pirouetted: polished officers in, the colorful uniforms of every friendly nation in the galaxy, seas of half-revealed bosoms and lavish gowns in every hue and pattern art and science could conjure, humans, Bears, A'zurnians, and the less-numerous races. At the center of the high archway, a majordomo dressed in bright green tunic with dark trousers and green boots bowed as Brim approached.
"Your name, please, Lieutenant?" he asked.
"Wilf Brim," Brim declared. "A Carescrian." He looked the man directly in the eye.
"Ah, yes, Lieutenant Brim," the majordomo said. "A thousand pardons: I should have known." He turned on his heel and led Brim into the ballroom. "Lieutenant Helmsman Wilf Ansor Brim, Imperial Fleet," he announced, thumping the butt of his pike loudly on a special square of flooring. "I.F.S. Truculent."
A few heads turned indifferently, but the announcement was generally lost in the babble of the crowd. And, from what Brim could see as he stepped into the room, his rank alone would relegate him to the very depths of nonimportance among most other guests whose ranks he could identify.
From inside, the room was high and huge-though a soft light level held the overall effect well within the limits of Brim's comprehension-longer than it was wide, with an ornate, domed ceiling covered by gold and silver designs in the form of a sinuous Logis vine. Three monstrous chandeliers like the one in the anteroom hung along its centerline. One wall was a solid bank of mirrors, the others were covered by rich-looking tapestries. The floor was a continuation of the flawless obsidian outside.
While Brim stood orienting himself in the heady atmosphere of hogge'poa, meem, and a hundred fragrances of perfume, a tall commander with a wisp of a mustache and piercing blue eyes appeared from the revelers, smiled, and clapped him on the back. "Brim, my good man," he said, "so glad you could; make it. I'm Avlin Khios, secretary to Lord Wyrood." He waved his hand apologetically. "Sorry your invitation arrived with so little notice. We hoped you might be able to make it anyway." He grinned. "Understand you had an exciting mission, what?"
"'Exciting' is probably as good a word as any, sir," Brim acknowledged with a smile. "The important thing, though, is; that we were able to see it all the way through."
"Yes, I understand," Khios said with a knowing grin. "Well her Effer'wyckian nibs is certainly on tonight's guest list." He took Brim's arm and propelled him into the center of the crowd. "But until the young lady actually does arrive, we have some people who want to talk to you-not many of them have the opportunity to meet real fighting men."
Brim felt a goblet placed in his hand as he passed a pair of footmen. The shallow vessel made his passage through the crowd even more difficult than before. As he passed a red-faced Army officer, the man spit, "Carescrian," bitterly at him as if he were repeating an impolite word. Then, within a few more ticks, he was centered in a ring of smiling young officers) who wore the badges of the Admiralty Staff-and curious looks on their faces.
Khios named each as Brim greeted one after the other with the handshake he learned in the Academy (Carescrians normally avoided touching anybody, at least during a first meeting)- their names were promptly forgotten in the rush of questions that followed.
"You've actually been in one of their starships?"
"What were the cannon like on A'zurn? Were they easy to drive?"
"Were they hard to start?"
"League torpedoes are good, aren't they? How'd the J band stand up after the radiation from those mines?"
To his surprise, Brim quickly began to sense an underlying mood of serious interest-certainly the questions coming his way were founded on well-informed backgrounds. As the group continued to probe, Brim rapidly found he was not talking to the vacuum-headed courtiers he originally thought they might be. Rather, it seemed he was surrounded by a group of dedicated staff people: behind-the-scenes decision makers who-so far as he could ascertain-were probably far more valuable contributing to an office work group than fighting the war somewhere in a battle zone. In the ore barges, one learned quickly to respect anyone who was willing to make a genuine contribution-to almost anything.
During the next few cycles, he answered each question as honestly as he could, within his limited knowledge. It was difficult to make noncombatants understand that one often fought more by calm reaction to impressions and reflexes than by detailed study of anything specific. He was patiently giving his third impression of E607's handling characteristics when the gathering was interrupted by Khios. "I've got to steal Lieutenant Brim for a while, gentlemen," he said, breaking into the circle to regrasp Brim's arm. "We have a couple of executive types who insist on meeting him now."
Brim nodded politely at the smiling officers and lifted his hands palm upward. "My apologies, gentlemen," he said. Then he turned on his heel and followed in Khios' wake through the festive atmosphere of music, perfume, and beautiful people.
The secretary stopped nearly all the way across the big room at a small, unobtrusive archway leading off among the hanging tapestries. He knocked gently on an ornate door before he pushed it open, nodding for Brim to follow.
Inside, soft lighting, walls of elegant display cases, magnificent furniture, and deep carpets identified the room as one of the ultraprivate drawing rooms everyone heard of but seldom saw, rooms where the very course of history could be charted quietly-and frequently was. Two tall officers stood talking before a blazing fireplace-one a human, the other a flighted being from A'zurn. Their uniforms were heavy with ponderous badges of rank and decoration.
Khios stopped approximately halfway into the room and bowed from the waist. "Your Majesties," he said. "May I present Lieutenant Helmsman Wilf Brim, Imperial Fleet, on detached duty from I.F.S. Truculent." Then he rose to his full height and indicated the two men. "Lieutenant, Crown Prince Onrad, your host, and Crown Prince Leopold of A'zurn." Startled, Brim saluted while Khios clicked his heels and bowed once more,, then silently exited the room, closing the door gently behind him.
Nearly panicked and alone in the center of the room, Brim set his chin, collected himself as best he could, and strode purposefully to a position a few respectful paces before the two young dignitaries. He bowed, then stood looking first at one and then the other. "Your Majesties," he said, seizing his emotions with an icy calm, "I am honored."
Onrad spoke first. He looked to be approximately Brim's age and was powerfully built, with the square jaw and thick neck of a natural athlete. Expensively attired, his basic dress, was the tailored blue uniform of a vice admiral. "So you are Wilf Brim," he remarked, "the Carescrian who has caused all that trouble for Great Uncle Triannic." His broad smile nearly squeezed his eyes shut. "Ha, ha! Well, your partisan campaign to prove out old Wyrood's Reform Act certainly seems to be working impressively." He nodded to the A'zurnian beside him. "Isn't that right, Leo?"
Crown Prince Leopold exuded an ageless, almost ethereal restraint which, in its own understated manner, stood out like a beacon from all the heavy magnificence of the ornate drawing room. His folded wings reached at least three golden irals from the floor, his eyes were the huge eyes of a hunter hawk, and his look conveyed the very soul of dignity. Here was a man who never acted in haste-nor in passion. He was beautifully clothed in the elegant, old-fashioned uniform of a brigadier general, and he stood with one polished boot on the high hearth. He also smiled at Brim-his an analytical and questioning smile that seemed to test its recipient without so much as. a touch of challenge. "A 'gentle and daring leader,' as my cousins put it," he said. His eyes narrowed and he seemed to look into the very soul of Brim's existence. "A 'complete' leader."
"There, Leo," Onrad interrupted hotly, "tell that to the anti-Wyrood idiots. They are hard to convince."
Leopold sighed and stared into the fire for a moment. "Even they will learn, Onrad-or surely none of us will survive this tumult." He nodded his head. "But those very factions will eventually learn-because the Wilf Brims of this Universe have the strength to persist, and in the final analysis, they do not." Then he reached to the top of the great carved mantelpiece and took a golden chest in his hands. Stepping to a position opposite Brim, he opened it and extracted a tiny crystal image of a winged being-the same figure Brim instantly remembered from the twin pillars outside the quarry on A'zurn where Hagbut and his troops were held prisoner. It was suspended on a small red ribbon. The Prince smiled again. "I have sent all the meaningless text that goes with this to Gimmas Haefdon, Lieutenant," he said. "The only importance is that you understand how much your actions were appreciated in Magalla'ana-and that we shall never forget your dedication to your mission and my countrymen." He grinned a momentary, lopsided grin. "Lieutenant Wilf Ansor Brim," he said, "in the presence of your liege, the Crown Prince Onrad, I award you the A'zurnian Order of Cloudless Flight." He peered deeply into Brim's eyes. "Wear it proudly," he said. "The decoration has never before been awarded to a groundling." Then he fastened the ribbon to the left breast Of Brim's tunic and resumed his original position at the fireplace.
Brim bowed again. "Thank you, Your Majesties," he said.
The A'zurnian nodded.
"And see that you take good care of my cousin Margot," Onrad added with a grin and a half-sensed wink. "I have a distinct feeling you constitute the only reason we shall be honored with her blond presence this evening."
Brim felt his face flush. Then he boldly returned the Prince's smile. "I shall certainly attempt to do that, Your Majesty," he said quietly. After this, be stepped back, saluted, and exited the room, closing the door softly behind him. Outside, he stood for a moment gathering his thoughts. Mentally, he felt as if be had just come through a pitched space battle. Then he shrugged to himself. It certainly was a long way from the ore barges-not an inconsiderable accomplishment for a Carescrian!
He made his way back into the growing crowd, accepting another goblet of meem and scanning the room for Margot's blond curls-unsuccessfully-when a small stir occurred at the entrance doors.
"Her Serene Majesty, Princess Margot of the Effer'wyck Dominions," the majordomo announced in a voice notably louder than before. The babble hushed, and heads turned expectantly.
Brim felt his breath catch as she swept through the door on the arm of First Star Lord Beorn Wyrood. No longer was she merely an attractive military officer, she now radiated that particular beauty exclusively reserved for the wealthy and powerful. She was magnificent.
She was wrapped in a meem-colored, full-length gown that crossed in front and tied at the neck, leaving her creamy shoulders and back stunningly bare. A matching sash nipped her waist, and a daring slit revealed enough of a long, shapely leg to considerably raise Brim's temperature. Around her neck, she wore an enormous, single-drop StarBlaze that flashed with an inner fire as she laughed and chatted with the First Lord.
"...had no idea the party was that important," someone whispered behind Brim. "She hardly ever attends these affairs."
"Voot's beard," another said in a low voice. "She's wearing the Stone of the Empire!"
"And LaKarn isn't anywhere in sight."
"Noticed that."
Brim watched transfixed as a small crowd formed around I the couple. In a moment, both crown princes appeared, laughing and talking.
Then, the A'zurnian was bending close to Margot, she whispering in his ear. He grinned his lopsided grin and pulled himself to his full height scanning the ballroom with his enormous eyes-which lighted on Brim and stopped. Smiling, he spoke rapidly to Margot, then she was peering Brim's way, too.
Their eyes met; she smiled-and frowned. In a moment, she was on her way through the crowd, never taking her eyes from him.
And in that instant, Wilf Brim knew for a certainty he was hopelessly in love.
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