CARRIES COORDINATES. INSURE STARSHIP FULLY ARMED. RETURN AT
H. MAJESTY'S DISCRETION.
NOTE; YOU WILL SORTIE WITHOUT ESCORT.
FOR THE EMPEROR
A. T. ZAPT, MAJOR GENERAL, I.F.
[END TOP SECRET IMPERIAL PALACE]
TNY 3346-1-A16E
Scant metacycles later—following an all-night session of frenzied cleaning, polishing, and scrubbing—P7350 and her deservedly tired crew were ready as Brim could make them. He had just changed into a clean uniform when the Crown Prince and his guests arrived without fanfare aboard a small, nondescript Fleet shuttle. Puffing from an all-out run halfway around the rim of the big, artificial satellite, Brim met them at the boarding hatch.
"Morning, Brim," the Emperor said with a smile. "Shame to get you up so early, but I've scheduled a number of meetings at the other end, and I want to get them all finished in a single day."
Brim laughed inwardly. "Oh, you didn't get us up, Your Majesty," he said with a smile. "We're ready to lift ship anytime you are."
"Somehow, I had no doubts about that," Onrad said with a wink. "And by the way, I think you'll find that you've already met both your other passengers."
It was true. Brim recognized the next one out immediately. "Lord Jaiswal," he said, moving to help the small man steer a large grip-all through the hatch.
"Hello, Brim," Jaiswal said in a deep voice, straightening himself with a great smile. "Our paths haven't crossed since the Dytasburg Conference, have they?" Wearing the white satin coveralls, gray cape, and black velvet cap that seemed to be his personal trademark, the squat, muscular official had a massive, frowning brow, sharp nose, pointed mustache, and the cold eyes of a professional assassin. A wealthy man by dint of many activities—some reportedly legal—Jaiswal was patriotic nearly to the point of obsession and considered by many CIGAs as one of their most dangerous enemies in Avalon. Along with Brim's Carescrian mentor Baxter Calhoun, he had personally funded construction of the first Starfury, K5054, and during the years that followed exhibited a certain flair—perhaps genius was a better description—for directing production. Shortly after naming him Lord Jaiswal, Onrad V also appointed him Minister of Starship Production, and immediately, the smallish Jaiswal bent to his new set of tasks as if the whole Empire depended upon his efforts—which, in large measure, was true....
The third passenger to back out of the shuttle was a huge Sodeskayan.
"Nik?" Brim demanded, narrowing his eyes in amazement.
"Wilfooshka!" the Bear exclaimed, turning to lift Brim from his feet.
"Nik Ursis," Brim stammered. "What in the name of Voot are you doing here?"
"After Zonga'ar, how can they win war without us?" Ursis answered in mock seriousness. He stood at least a quarter again as tall as Brim with dark reddish-brown fur, a long, urbane muzzle that terminated in a huge, wet nose, and small gray eyes of enormous intensity. Like his colleague Borodov, he wore elegant fang gems at either side of his grin. Also like his old friend Borodov, he cut a dashing figure in his country's distinctive papakha, soft leather boots, and maroon Fleet Cloak. A highly respected theoretical physicist and Drive engineer in peacetime, Ursis served as Dean of the famous Dytasburg Academy on the G.F.S.S. planet of Zhiv'ot, However, he was also a warrior without peer, and like many of his Sodeskayan contemporaries, he had a natural proclivity for what they termed, simply, "The Hunt."
"Brim" Onrad chuckled, "you've got more friends and acquaintances than Horgroath has moons.
Everywhere you go, it seems like old home week for xaxt's sake."
"I've noticed that, Your Majesty." Brim laughed. "Probably I'm getting old—it takes a long time to run into so many people."
Onrad took a long look at Brim in feigned judgment. "Good thing the Leaguers haven't caught wind of this so-called aging of yours." He laughed, then checked his timepiece. "We'd better be on our way, then," he said. "We've a raft of important meetings and only a few metacycles to get through them.''
"By the way, Your Majesty," Brim interjected quietly, "the Navigator doesn't know where those meetings are to be held yet."
"Oh." Onrad pursed his lips. "That's right, Brim," he said, "after you lift off, set course for Gimmas. I'll give him the real coordinates once we're into space."
Brim paused a moment, then shrugged inwardly. It was Onrad's trip, after all. Actually, it was Onrad's ship as well— Emperors owned everything so far as the Fleet was concerned. Including, at least for this trip, destinations. "This way, Your Majesty," he said, and led the way into the corridor.
They arrived at P7350 after a short walk—passing a number of astonished faces—and boarded the ship through a full honor guard Barbousse had thoughtfully assembled at the head of the tube. Only a few irals into the boarding lobby, however, Onrad began to peer around and sniff the air. "What's in xaxt's name is that I smell?" he demanded. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear someone spilled a whole bucket of metal polish somewhere."
Opposite Brim—and behind the Emperor—a number of faces suddenly went to deep red, and it was obvious that the honor guard, all of whom had been a part of the spiff detail, were having serious difficulty stifling bellows of laughter, especially Barbousse, who had driven them like galley slaves.
"Um, yes, Your Majesty," Brim replied, having his own difficulties with nascent laughter. "We, er, try to keep the ship as clean as possible."
"Glad to hear that," Onrad said, breaking into his own grin. "And never get the idea that I don't appreciate the spiff work you've done on my behalf. It bloody well shows you've pride in your ship.
Spirit, that's what it is. And it's going to take all the spirit you can muster when you start meeting the Leaguers in force. Right, Brim? Ursis?"
"Aye, Your Majesty," Brim replied.
"Like dark ice caves and howling snow, as they say," Ursis agreed.
Onrad rolled his eyes. "As they say," he repeated helplessly, "Now, Brim, how do you find the bridge in this partially gutted bucket of bolts?"
"I'll take you there straightaway, Your Majesty," Brim replied. "Chief," he said, turning to Barbousse, "show Lord Jaiswal to the jump seat you rigged in the attack station. Nik, they'll find you a place in the Drive chambers." With that, he nodded to Onrad and started off for the bridge companionway.
P7350 was climbing out past flight level 800 before Onrad tapped Brim on the shoulder from his jump seat immediately behind the helm. "I'd imagine you're anxious to learn where we're going now, aren't you?" he chuckled.
Brim turned as the last orbiting buoy faded in the gloom. "Oh, no, Your Majesty," he said with a grin. "It's Falco, the Navigator, who's really curious."
"Smart Carescrian zukeed," Onrad chuckled. "I assume Valerian left the Nav station up here in this abbreviated bridge."
"The console directly behind your seat on the left, Your Majesty," Brim said. "Lieutenant Falco."
"Falco," he heard Onrad say a moment later, "they gave me these two disks—said you'd know what to do with 'em."
"Aye, Your Majesty," Falco replied, "I'll take care of them." Moments later, Brim's course-director panels came alive with a flood of colored directional vectors, all registering off course warnings of one sort or another. Effer'wyck! he grumped to himself. He should have known. Onrad would have to see how bad things were with his own eyes, no matter what the risks. All the security made sense, now, too. League forces would be little more than a few light-years distant from the conferences. Putting the helm over, he carefully but quickly set course for Luculent.
"Bloody embarrassing to keep everything from you people so long," Onrad continued from his jump seat. "It was the only way I could talk that staff of mine into letting me make this trip at all. Damned fools see spies and assassins around every corner."