THE HELMSMAN: Director's Cut Edition (44 page)

As evening progressed into night, these vessels were duly emptied — and just as duly replaced by the quiet, efficient staff of the Great Wardroom. Brim's melancholy eventually gave way to fuzziness during endless Sodeskayan aphorisms and declamations on the memory of DD T.83. Each was punctuated by a toast in the Sodeskayan manner by first draining a freshly filled goblet, then reverently reciting the age-old Sodeskayan litany, “To ice, to snow, to Sodeskaya we go!”

“Bears can always dance with lyittle storm maidens, but who can escape volf's golden fangs?” Borodov growled. “Voot take it!”

“To ice, to snow, to Sodeskaya we go!”

“Is no great triumph watchink mountain winds freeze lakes,” one of the females said as she rose unsteadily to her feet and smoothed her skirt. “Except those havink much to do wyith zest of life.” The Bears nodded their heads wisely as she sat.

“Yes. Is fact!”

“She speaks truth in
that.”

“Yes… To zest of life, and to
Truculent!
Mayeh her atoms continue aboard other heroic ships, in tradyition set byeh original crew!”

“To
Truculent.
Mayeh this salvage brink disaster to Nergol Triannic!”

“To
Truculent.
Long mayeh her atoms sail stars!”

“To ice, to snow, to Sodeskaya we go!”

“Conflict loves great warmink breasts of Mother Planets,” Ursis slurred emotionally.

“True,” Brim said absently from his chair as he mopped spilled meem from the leg of his trousers.

“Yes … yes … conflict,” the Bears shouted.

“To ice, to snow, to Sodeskaya we go!”

“To atoms of old
Truculent!
Mayeh theyeh sail stars forever!”

Shortly after the change of the last watch, the Great Wardroom began to empty, but
Truculent's
wake continued unabated. Brim was by now feeling little residual mental pain, but something still bothered him, and it had everything to do with the ship. He tried to concentrate more on the toasts.

“To ice, to snow, to Sodeskaya we go!”

“Frozen logs, like Holyeh Grayeh Rocks of Nodd, are truelyeh not stuff of scyience!” This latter nearly brought the Bears from their seats as they doubled up laughing.

“To
Truculent!
Never forget!”

“To ice, to snow, to Sodeskaya we go!”

Brim's mind had begun to drift by now on a pleasant, muzzy lake of meem. Were the Bearish aphorisms actually beginning to make sense? Was that Captain Collingswood entering the Great Wardroom on the arm of a rather ordinary-looking Blue Cape?

Collingswood!

Brim struggled to put himself together as the couple approached. The Captain was now in the lead as they threaded their way among the tables. Her escort wore a triple insignia on his collar. Brim counted its parts carefully. One thick and two thin rhomboids. He counted them again as the two reached their table. A vice admiral. Somehow, he was not surprised.

“Ah, Captain Collingswood!” Borodov remarked jovially, his speech suddenly more precise. “Our evening will be complete only if you and Sir Pluton join us for early morning libation.” He bowed. “May I present two of most beautiful Sodeskayan intelligence officers, just arrived from Mother Planets: Spa'rzha Cherdak and Ptitsa Pro'tif.”

The two young Bears giggled and curtsied. “You won't have to remember our names if you'll stay,” they laughed.

“Please,” Ursis said as he rose, his voice also without accent. “We shall consider ourselves doubly honored.”

Brim smiled. “Yes, please,” he echoed from atop two wobbly legs. He knew he was in no shape to utter anything more complex.

Collingswood turned to the Vice Admiral, who now stood by her side. “I should love to join these people, Erat,” she said, looking into his eyes.

“And so should I,” the Admiral said. “Spa'rzha, Ptitsa, I am most honored to make your acquaintance.” He chuckled. “We Imperials can use all the intelligence we can locate.” He was short and thin with bushy brows, gray hair, and a fleshy nose. He was also clearly involved with Collingswood in a relationship that had little to do with the Fleet. His deep-set eyes fairly shouted how he felt about her.

“My friends,” Borodov said, “we are, this morning, in company of Vice Admiral Sir Erat Pluton, Commander of Fourth Battle Squadron.” He began to introduce the other members of the party.

“I'm going over here for a moment,” Collingswood called to the Admiral. “I should like a few words with Lieutenant Brim while I have the opportunity.”

Pluton smiled. “I don't
think
I shall be jealous,” he said to Brim with a wink.

Brim nodded and held up his hands. “N-No contest, Admiral,” he said, then moved a chair from a nearby table beside his, holding it for Collingswood while she sat. “Good m-morning, Captain,” he said, returning clumsily to his own chair. He was very much aware his words weren't coming out as well as they should. Bears, he concluded with no little envy, had an
unbelievable
tolerance for meem.

Collingswood smiled. “Relax, Wilf,” she said quietly — the others had suddenly been drawn into vigorous conversation with Admiral Pluton. “I have been far more intoxicated than you on occasion, for the very same reasons.”

Brim felt his brow knit, but he kept his silence.

“I shan't preach long,” she said, pouring herself an admirable dollop of the best Logish meem (a woman with clearly patrician tastes). “I have other matters to occupy my mind tonight besides
Truculent.
But then, old DD T.83 was not my first ship, as she was yours.” She fastened her eyes on his. “It may not help much at the present, but you should know that you did a superb job in that last battle. Remember that. You may have had your first ship blown out from under you, but you accomplished your objective admirably — against astronomical odds.” She smiled and raised her eyebrows. “The three-to-one ship ratio you faced was an impossibility in the first place. Add to this the fact that you were
also
up against one of the League's most promising, most highly decorated, and probably most clever young Fleet commanders. The whole episode says much for your ability —
as well as
your
accomplishments.
You did win, you know.”

“Except,” Brim interrupted, “I t-think Valentin got away in one of the xaxtdamned launches, beggin' the Captain's pardon. “

Collingswood laughed. “I
thought
you'd notice that,” she laughed. “I did, too.
Truculent's
Chairman was broadcasting the whole thing to me real time in Tandor-Ra. The Admiralty would
love
to believe they're rid of the likes of that
hab'thall.
But I think not. I talked to Erat about it — he feels the bloody criminal got away, too. Evidently, the League trains its officers to desert if a ship appears doomed. They do it a lot, you know. And I don't think it would have been a good bargain risking all those lives in Flynn's sick bay against the capture of a few worthless Leaguers. Do you?”

Brim bit his lip. “Thanks, Captain,” he said. “But a lot of them died anyway. As you well know.”

Collingswood reached and took his hand. “Lots of people die in wars,” she said quietly. “It seems that's mostly what they're all about.” She smiled. “You almost died yourself — on your first mission. A matter of pure chance, I think. You did the best you could; that's all any of us can ask. Living
or
dead.”

Brim could only stare into her brown eyes as she spoke. “And so far as
Truculent
herself is concerned … certainly I loved her. I've loved
all
my ships.” She looked him in the eye. “But never forget, Wilf Brim, she was
only
a ship. Hullmetal, rivets, crystals, and a couple of oversized antigravs. No
life
there. No personality. Only what
we
lent to her while we were aboard. And we took it with us over the brow when we left; never forget that.” She narrowed her eyes. “Yes,” she ruminated in an uncharacteristically hard tone of voice, “we all feel bad old
Truculent's
gone to the breakers. But we'll take her personality along with us to
Defiant
— you
,
me, Ursis, Flynn, Barbousse, even crazy old Grimsby. And
Truculent
will never die. Just as they'll salvage her parts, we'll salvage her soul. “

Brim shook his head. The talk had finally uncovered his sore spot. “Except I was the one making decisions when they all died, Captain,” he said with renewed gloom. He could hear the others at the table discussing comparative Drive systems with great animation. Admiral Pluton was
also
a person of far-flung knowledge.

“Finally,” Collingswood said triumphantly. “I believe we're
finally
at the heart of the matter.”

Brim raised an eyebrow. “The heart, Captain?”

Collingswood smiled. “The heart, Wilf,” she repeated. “If you accept command responsibility, you also accept
costs.
It goes with the territory. In the most crass terms, it has to do with resources and the fact that nothing is free — simple thermodynamics. As a commander, your resources are ships and lives, including your own. You put what you are willing to gamble on the line, then play toward some goal as best you can. At the end, you have either won that goal or lost, always at some cost of your resources. It's as simple as that. If you win, you measure relative success by comparing your actual cost against the value gained.”

Brim's mind was beginning to function again a little. “I guess my goal was…”

“Your goal — which you instinctively knew
without
any orders from me — was to prevent further attack on Tandor-Ra. At least until Penda and the battlecruisers arrived.” She looked him in the eye. “Did you do that, Wilf Brim?” she asked.

Brim pursed his lips. “I did that, Captain,” he said — a little proudly, in spite of himself.

“You're absolutely right you did,” Collingswood said. “And don't you
ever
forget it.”

“But the
price,”
Brim said, wincing at the thought. “Universe…”

“That part belongs to me this time,” Collingswood answered. “Because, in effect, I ordered you out there on an impossible mission.
I
set the price I was willing to pay, not
you,
Wilf Brim.” She smiled. “Of course,” she said, “I didn't
expect
to pay the whole wager when I put you in charge. And… I didn't.”

Brim could only shake his head.

“Oh, don't try to talk, Wilf,” Collingswood said. “Simply think about what I have said. Objective and price, those are the touchstones. When you work them out for
Truculent's
last mission, you'll find you accomplished my objective at a bargain. You not only saved a city — with all the lives
that
involves — but a treaty, as well. And there's no
telling
how many lives that treaty will eventually save.” She laughed and sipped her meem. “Then,” she said, “there's the matter of the enemy ships. Your score stands at one ship for two — actually one for
three,
since the last one would probably have gotten away had you not disabled him before
Benwell
arrived at the scene. Not a bad score in anybody's book, I should think. How do you
really
feel about that battle, Wilf Brim?”

“Well…”

Collingswood laughed. “Wilf,” she said, “I think I have made my point. If you continue to let this
Truculent
thing bother you, then it is clearly your own doing.” She turned her head toward Admiral Pluton. “I, on the other hand, have urgent matters on my mind, so if you will excuse me, Lieutenant, we shall see each other next at your decoration ceremonies tomorrow. “

“Aye, Captain,” Brim said. “And I th-thank you for including me in
Defiant's
crew.”

Collingswood smiled warmly and shrugged. “If you still want to sign on with me, after what I have put you through,” she said, “then I am quite gratified to have you aboard.”

Shortly after that, Collingswood and her admiral took leave of the Sodeskayan table amid wishes for safety, prosperity, and long life from each to all. Not much later, Borodov also rose, stretching his arms sleepily. “Is an early metacycle for elderly Bears,” he said, glancing at his timepiece. “I think I shall turn in now. Tomorrow promises long metacycles of wakefulness, for I accompany the Prince back to Avalon.” He looked at Brim and grimaced in mock anticipation. “Even
Bears
are sometimes afflicted with hangovers, Lieutenant,” he said. Then he disappeared with Pro'tif on his arm.

After a final goblet of meem, Ursis accompanied Brim to his room. “Since you started on Sodeskayan meem,” the Bear explained, “this Sodeskayan has the responsibility to insure you find the way to your room, eh?”

Brim shrugged. Were the truth known, he felt a little woozy on his feet, besides, the Bear's room was nearby, and he felt his own responsibility toward his friend. In the end, they assisted each other, with added help from Cherdak, who
also
professed responsibility for making sure Ursis arrived at his room safely. The Carescrian decided he wouldn't ask any questions about
that.
The threesome decided (after much serious discussion in committee) to take a shortcut through a spacious courtyard. The night was still clear, miraculously so for Haefdon. Brim scanned the stars as they walked. Suddenly, Ursis and Cherdak picked up their ears.

“Big one comink, Nik,” Cherdak said, turning her gaze toward the ocean.

“Indeed,” Ursis said presently. “Listen, Wilf Ansor — you should be able to hear it any moment. Sounds like battleship.”

Brim listened, peering sightlessly at the sky and concentrating on sounds from the night.
There.
A low rumble — more felt as a vibration than heard — growing stronger by the click. Soon it was shaking the pavement beneath their feet. All three looked up at the same time to watch a whole flotilla of destroyers blaze through the cold air. This was followed immediately by a monstrous collection of lights and flashing beacons that glided rapidly overhead with the cascading thunder of a thousand lesser starships. And even in the relative darkness, there was no mistaking
those
majestic lines:
Queen Elidean
herself, first of the five greatest battleships ever constructed (she alone had tear-shaped shelters at the tips of her bridge wings). Then the great vessel passed behind the roofline of the officers' quarters.