Brim nodded, sipping his meem. Somehow, the unannounced appearance was just like Onrad—or at least the Onrad that he had come to know over the years. Pragmatic as well as human, the young Emperor would clearly have seen tonight's party as an opportunity to be with the people who would soon be protecting the very skies over his head and a much-needed personal diversion. He was an active man who must surely find his own royalty stultifying at times.
With all the high-ranking brass about, Brim expected he wouldn't get within ten irals of the new Emperor, so he found himself considerably surprised when he responded to a tap on the back....
"It's been a bloody long time, Brim," Onrad said, offering his hand. "I'm sure you think I've forgotten all about you."
Brim grinned and took the Emperor's hand. "Your Majesty," he said, "I think that you've probably been busier than you can remember. And, er, congratulations, I think."
Onrad gave a private little laugh. "Save your congratulations for my father," Onrad joked. "He's the one who really benefited from his abdication."
"I'm glad I'm not running this war," Brim said.
"You'd better be running it," Onrad chuckled, "and the people who work for you, right down to the lowest-level feather merchant civilians. Because the higher I climb, the less I can see. And at my level, all I get is policy, with an occasional fillip of actual happenings."
"In that case, Your Majesty, I'll do my best," Brim joked.
Onrad put a hand on Brim's shoulder. "I know that, Brim," he said. "Don't ever forget that I know. You're not a squeaking wheel, so I won't often get around to personally making a fuss about your exploits—like when you managed to delay the whole bloody war for more than half a year. And you have already been awarded your second Imperial Comet for that, even if it may be a long time before either of us has sufficient time to accomplish the ceremony that awards the medal to you publicly."
Brim shook his head. "I don't particularly need medals," he said. "I'm certain you must realize how much better off I am right now than ninety-nine percent of all the Carescrians ever born."
"Medals make promotions easier, Brim," Onrad said, reaching inside his trousers pocket to retrieve a small leather pouch. "That's why I brought you this." Handing the pouch to Brim, he next drew a thick ribbon from within his formal jacket. "You'll have to wear this without ceremony until bloody Nergol Triannic provides us with enough breathing room to lay on a proper celebration."
Brim emptied the pouch into the palm of his hand. It contained an eight-pointed starburst in silver and dark blue enamel, inscribed with a single word at its center: valor.
"Here," Onrad said, handing the sash to Brim. "Slip this on right now—you should have been wearing it months ago. I awarded the bloody thing to you as one of my very first official acts as Emperor."
Brim unrolled the heavy loop of ribbon and clipped the gold disk to a catch sewn into its lower hem. "Onrad V, Grand Galactic Emperor, Prince of the Reggio Star Cluster, and Rightful Protector of the Heavens," he read aloud. "You know I'm terribly proud of this, Your Highness," he said, slipping the ribbon over his left shoulder to rest beside a similar ribbon and disk awarded by the previous Emperor.
"Well," Onrad said, "I suppose I feel rather proud of it myself. It's not that often that someone gets two of these things. I feel pretty good about awarding it."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Brim said, sensing his face burn. "I'll do my best to make sure I continue to deserve the honor."
Onrad laughed quietly. "That's just like you, Brim," he said, grabbing the Carescrian's shoulder for a moment. "Anybody else would be breaking his arm in an attempt to pat his own back."
"I've got to fly with that arm tomorrow," Brim said with a grin. "Otherwise... I'd probably end up with a sling myself."
"Save it till we win the thraggling war." Onrad chuckled under his breath. "By the Universe, I'll proclaim a Wilf Brim Appreciation Day."
"I'll change my name, Your Majesty," Brim joked.
"We'll find you, Carescrian," Onrad returned. "I don't have Secret Police for nothing, you know."
Then he frowned for a moment. "Wilf," he asked quietly, "do you remember the night years ago when Father awarded you your first Order of the Imperial Comet?"
Brim nodded. "Aye, Your Majesty," he swore earnestly. "It's a night I'll never forget so long as I live."
"Turns out, Father found it hard to forget, too," Onrad said. "I talked with him about it the next morning. He wanted to do something for Carescria; seems he'd promised you he'd try to make things better there."
"Yes," Brim agreed, closing his eyes for a moment while his mind whirled backward in time to a wartime night in Avalon when he'd been decorated by Greyffin IV.
"You may or may not know it, my friend," Onrad said, looking Brim directly in the eye, "but those new Carescrian starship factories turning out Starfury 1Cs and other warships are a direct result of that evening."
Speechless, Brim could only shake his head in wonderment.
"Thought you'd like to know that," Onrad said softly, putting his hand on Brim's shoulder again.
"Keep up the good work, then. We won't have much of a chance of ceremonies until we've won the war."
Brim nodded as he struggled to recover his senses. "Until we win the war, Your Majesty," he said.
"Meanwhile," Onrad said, "keep your ears and eyes open. You'll be in the thick of things once the zukeed Leaguers get around to having a go at us. When I need to know what's going on in Defense Command, I'll be around to see things through your eyes."
"I shall be ready, Your Majesty," Brim said.
"Good." Onrad turned to leave but stopped in his tracks. "Oh, Brim," he said, frowning over his shoulder.
"Yes, Your Majesty?" Brim answered.
"Try to keep yourself and your friend Barbousse out of trouble for a while. All right?"
"Absolutely not. Your Majesty," Brim said with a smile.
Onrad grinned. "In that case," he said, "I'll start making plans for the victory celebration."
Eve Carrier never did reappear that evening; Brim was not particularly surprised by her disappearance, but somehow felt a tinge of disappointment. There was something special about the Carescrian beauty, although he couldn't somehow define just what that was. And it wasn't that he wanted to take her to bed, although he had to admit that he certainly would like to do that, too. Eve Cartier was an extremely attractive woman, in many different ways. And not the least of them was her love of the home he had utterly forsaken.
Eventually, Onrad departed. Soon after, Brim and Moulding called up a staff skimmer, said their own good-byes, and started for the boarding lobby. They left Aram in the company of a perfectly stunning flighted woman from the A'zurnian Embassy. The two were so deep in conversation that the young Squadron Leader failed to even notice Brim's new decoration, and the Carescrian felt rather guilty breaking in to say he was leaving.
"Daresay we won't see him for a while," Moulding commented as he and Brim walked along the brow.
Brim chuckled. "Aram won't need to be back until tomorrow morning's inspection," he said, "early, of course. There's a shuttle he can catch that ought to leave the two of them plenty of time for fun.
But he'd better be on time, though, or I'll leave feathers all over the satellite. And I mean it."
"Tough words, Wilf," Moulding commented with a raised eyebrow.
"Tough war coming up, as I see it," Brim replied thoughtfully. "We're not dealing with a bunch of hardened Imperial veterans like we did in Fluvanna. The gang we landed from Gimmas this morning is little more than a bunch of talented amateurs."
"A willing bunch, though," Moulding said defensively.