THE HELMSMAN: Director's Cut Edition (35 page)

Brim felt his face flush. “Th-Thank you, sir,” he gulped. “But… wouldn't it be a lot quicker if she were to ride with us? Even with this damage, we'll be traveling at better than one hundred LightSpeed, while you’ll be…”

Shelgar laughed heartily. “Nice try, Lieutenant,: he said, “but it’s my belief that the Emperor wants Princess Effer'wyck safely under his jurisdiction in as much safety and comfort as possible.”

“Aye, sir,” Brim replied. “Probably
Defiance
is a much better idea.”

“I doubt if the Princess will agree,” Shelgar assured him with a chuckle. “And speaking of orders, Lieutenant — 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 hear, you've earned it,
full
Lieutenant Brim.” 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 information we discussed,” he said. “And congratulations again.” Then he was gone.

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. Scant clicks later, mooring beams to
Defiance
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.

Miraculously, Ursis and Barbousse had procured large bottles of Logish meem — apparently from the emptiness of space itself. Brim 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!

With refueling stops, it took the Truculents nearly three Standard Days to nurse the crippled astroplane into native space, but at last E60T’s cracked and scarred Hyperscreens began to fill with the glittering star swarms that comprised the heart of the Home Galaxy. In due course, the mighty triad of Asterious blazed forth like a giant beacon suspended above the Universe, drenching all it contained with a glorious golden radiance. Soon, Brim could make out the three individual stars, tumbling within their virtual globe, each trapped within the others’ gravity bonds At last,, the five blue-green worlds hove into view : Proteus for science, Melia for commerce, Ariel for communications, Helios for shipping, and the colossal city-planet Avalon herself, throbbing epicenter of an empire that spanned the very galaxy and beyond.

Brim's orders specified signing the astroplane over to the scientific community on Proteus, and accordingly (on the third 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 astroplane 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 Barbousse and Ursis raced 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 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 loom 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 military mission was complete.

* * * *

“Text messages for you, Lieutenant Brim,” Barbousse announced suddenly from E607’s COMM cabinet, his voice nearly lost in the commotion of technicians clambering through the little ship from three separate brows. During the last Standard Week, all four Truculents had spent nearly every waking moment wringing out the little Leaguer astroplane for the Imperial Foreign Technology Service.

This latest mission had been the most demanding so far — and Brim, especially, looked forward to the three or four days’ of leave that had been promised. One way or another, he was determined to spend some time on Avalon. “What do they say?” he 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:

Wilf,

I am required to attend the Godille function as representative of my dominion. Shall I see you there? 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
message,” 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
message, 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.”

“Thraggling 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:

TO: Wilf A. Brim, Lt., I.R. @ Proteus.991E

FROM: Lord Avingnon B. Wyrood @ Admiralty, Avalon City, Avalon/Asturius

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.

12 Pentad, 51997:

Lordglen House of State: Twilight:0:00

Grand Boulevard of the Cosmos,Avalon

BY ORDER OF HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY GREYFFIN IV, GRAND GALACTIC EMPEROR, PRINCE OF THE REGGIO STAR CLUSTER, AND RIGHTFUL PROTECTOR OF THE HEAVENS.

(formal attire)

* * * *

Personal to Lt. Brim: Take the Morning:00:00 R-37 Shuttle to Imperial Terminal, Avalon. Transportation will be standing by at the Quentian Portal. A formal uniform awaits your arrival at the Lordglen House.

- A. K. Khios, Secretary to Lord Wyrood

That
made some sense of things — at least as much sense as inviting a Carescrian to a court affair in the first place. He laughed. Margot's work for a certainty. Well, if that was the requirement to see her now, then so be it! He'd faced up to some of the best the League could throw at him so far. Avalonian society couldn't be very much worse than that!

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, soaring hundreds of irals over a thousand crowded ramps and concourses that would 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 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 “ahs” 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 grid of forested parks and urban recumbence at the edge of huge, placid Lake Mersin, actually a sizable inland sea. The Grand Terminal was constructed on an artificial island 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 Verecker 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 he reported to 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 similar to 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.