"The goblet might be a little crowded, Number One," Brim chuckled, addressing her by the traditional Fleet nickname for a starship's First Lieutenant, "but with you, I'd try anything at least once."
"Good news, my ex-Skipper," she said, surreptitiously cupping his hand over her breast. "There's nothing in the regs about a little fun between friends who don't share the same ship. Bartender! The Skipper here wants a refill and I'll have one of the same."
A decidedly assertive sensation surged momentarily in Brim's loins as he withdrew his hand. Even as a joke, it had been a long time since... "Tissaurd," he said with a grin, "you could be a bad influence on me."
"Finish your drink, Wilf," she said with a mischievous grin. "I lift ship in two metacycles. When I do finally drag you to bed, I'll want to enjoy myself significantly longer than that,"
"Xaxtdamn," Brim mumbled through a grin. "Always at the wrong place at the wrong time."
"Sooner or later," Tissaurd said over her shoulder while she paid the bartender. Then she turned and saluted with her goblet of meem. "Here's to a future evening of strict purience."
"To future purience," Brim answered, touching the lip of her goblet with his. "But what of Nadia Tissaurd right now? Last time I heard, you were commanding Starfury. I didn't know she was in port."
"She isn't," Tissaurd said. "Someone decided that such a famous prototype ought to be placed safely in a museum before she's blasted beyond repair. After all, we did put a few dents in the old girl last year."
"Dents and more," Brim agreed.
"So I drove her off to that remote storage yard in the thirty-fifth sector and now I'm flying I.F.S.
Nord. You've heard of her?"
Brim felt his eyebrows rise. "Universe," he exclaimed, " Nord's a bender, isn't she?"
"The latest bender," Tissaurd said, examining her manicured fingernails. "And you wouldn't believe where I've had her already."
"Probably, I'm not cleared to know anyway." Brim laughed. Perfected by the League during the last war, benders were special starships that could, in effect, "bend" the entire spectrum (except "heavy" N rays) around their hulls, thereby becoming virtually invisible.
"True," Tissaurd agreed. "But one of the places I will tell you about—in spite of the thraggling regulations—is A'zurn. I had Nord there when the dominion fell, and I was able to bring out a number of A'zurnian officials. Including a friend of yours. He's actually the second reason I stopped in to see you during my layover."
"The second reason?" Brim asked.
"Well, of course," Tissaurd said. "The first reason was to make certain you were still interested in a little erotic fun some time in the future."
Brim chuckled, "Were I to back away from the bar stool right now," he bantered, "you'd have a visual answer to that little question."
"Too bad I'm leaving so soon, then, Captain. But someday..." She grinned and sipped her meem.
"I do have important business to discuss tonight, though—like the replacement Commander you need for 32 Squadron."
Brim frowned. "How in xaxt did you hear about that?" he demanded. "I just found out yesterday myself."
"Oh, I have my methods," Tissaurd said impishly, "and I also have the replacement you need."
"For 32 Squadron?"
"Landed him today in my bender," Tissaurd asserted.
"But they haven't even assigned anybody yet," Brim protested.
"That's the best part," Tissaurd said. "They won't need to, now."
"Wait a cycle." Brim said. "How could you have a replacement? Didn't you say you just came in from combat duty?"
"That's right," Tissaurd assured him. "From A'zurn."
"Then how in Voot's greasy beard could you have..."
"Does the name Aram of Nahshon ring a bell, Wilf Brim?" Tissaurd interrupted. "That's the old friend I picked up."
Brim felt his eyebrows go orbital. "Aram of Nahshon?" he asked. "I heard he'd been killed commanding the group of destroyers that almost got the Leaguer battleship off Magalla'ana."
"He's here—at the sector hospital," she said. "I picked up his lifeglobe on the way back. Pure luck. He's a bit the worse for wear, but full of Fight as ever—and plenty ready to command a squadron of killer ships, I'd say. Even if he weren't a natural, think how it would help post-war relations with A'zurn."
"Universe," Brim agreed. "You're right on both counts. But he's not an Imperial. How would I go about getting him assigned?"
" You wouldn't. I thought about that on the way here," Tissaurd said with a smile. "But your old friend and mentor Baxter Calhoun could. Vice Admirals can do nearly anything, especially ones assigned directly to the Admiralty."
"Nadia," Brim asked fervently, "did I ever tell you you're wonderful...."
"A number of times, ex-Skipper of mine. But I'm always ripe for more bouquets."
"You're wonderful."
Tissaurd fluttered her eyelids. "I know," she said, preening facetiously. "You needn't tell me."
Brim rolled his eyes. "I've changed my mind," he grumped.
"Bet I could change it back if we were in bed," Tissaurd said impishly.
"Not before you lift ship." Brim chuckled. "But I'll take a promise in the meantime."
"I've already promised, Skipper," she replied with a serious little smile. "Count on it."
"I shall," Brim said, suddenly aware of the fact that something very fundamental had changed between them.
"Wilf Brim," she said, looking him directly in the eye, "you are far and away the best Commander I've ever had—but I'm glad I don't work for you anymore. We've had a professional relationship much too long." Then she glanced at her timepiece and drained her goblet. "Time to go," she said.
Brim pressed her hand gently. "May stars light all thy paths," he said in the age-old salute between starsailors.
"And thy path, Star Traveler," she pronounced in return. Then she pressed his hand and slipped from the bar stool, disappearing quickly into the crowd.
When she was gone, Brim found himself surprised at how noisy the room had suddenly become.
He and Tissaurd had a lot in common, now that he thought about. She too had never mentioned a home—but then again, she never seemed lonely, either....
In the morning, or the grayness that passed for "morning" on Gimmas Haefdon, Brim dispatched a KA'PPA message to the Admiralty in Avalon, then battled his way through a raging snowstorm to the sprawling hospital compound that served Sector 19. Portions of the huge receiving gallery were obviously under restoration from years of neglect, and a few dark corridors still led off into the darkness of abandonment, but the room teemed with evacuated refugees and Imperial casualties flown in from Effer'wyck. Both served as urgent reminders that many important allies of the Empire had already fallen—and little time remained before the League would launch its next offensive, probably against Avalon herself.