Meanwhile, fighting around the five planets grew more intense daily until in mid-month a terrific series of raids commenced during which the Leaguers suddenly abandoned their attacks on Imperial shipping and commenced picking targets seemingly at random among the five planets themselves— while carefully avoiding Avalon City proper.
These raids cost the Leaguers dearly, for attacks against ground targets necessitated flying a great deal closer to the Imperial FleetPort systems. Indeed, on the first day of the revised strategy, thirty-eight of the attacking starships were confirmed destroyed and forty-six claimed damaged. At the same time, however, thirty-two Imperial killer ships were also destroyed—serious losses of twenty-three full crews listed as missing or dead plus nearly half the crew members of a Defiant and two more Starfuries. Brim's starships suffered their own damage during the day-long mayhem, and as the second morning began in orbit over Avalon, so many of them were under repair that he found himself "grounded."
No sooner had he reported in as down for at least a day than a directive arrived from the Admiralty ordering him to the surface immediately to attend one of Onrad's War Cabinet meetings in place of Gallsworthy, while the latter participated in a shipping conference on Helios. Aram, whose Defiant was also laid up, accompanied him.
"No rest for the weary, I suppose, Cap'm," Barbousse said as the three strode briskly across the transparent mooring tube to the shuttle.
Brim laughed and looked out through the transparent walls at the curve of the planet, just taking shape as a slim arc of light hundreds of c'lenyts to lightward. Flashes of disrupter fire punctuated nearby space, indicating that the Leaguers' new offensive continued without letup. ''Probably more true for you.
Chief, than me," he said, winking at Aram. "At least we get to do something a little bit different—while you shovel mountains of admin trivia."
The ruddy-feathered A'zurnian nodded emphatically. "I think I'd rather face a whole squadron of Leaguers," he said in feigned gravity.
Barbousse chuckled. "Don't you fret about me, gentlemen," he said. "I've got a mob of ratin's to do the real borin' stuff. But it does bring an idea to mind, beggin' the Cap'm's pardon."
"What's that, Chief?" Brim asked.
"Well sirs," the big rating said, "when we finally do win the war, I think it might be a fittin'
punishment to make those bigwig Leaguer brassheads gather up all the admin stuff they've caused an' put it in some sort of orderly filin' system. Now talk about a livin' death...."
Aram broke into gales of featherly laughter while Brim guffawed and slapped the big man on his broad back. "Chief," he said, "we'll take that one up with the Admiralty this afternoon. Who knows, with a threat like that, they might simply give the whole thing up and go back home. I know I would."
"Meanwhile, Cap'm," Barbousse said, returning to his accustomed seriousness as they reached the entrance to the brow, "I'll have everythin' ready for your signature when you get back." He saluted.
"Careful down there, if you will, sir," he said. "No tellin' what them CIGAs are liable to do now that things aren't goin' their way anymore."
"I'll keep an eye out, Chief," Brim promised, returning the salute, then motioning his grip-all into trail mode, he followed Aram into the brow.
True to Barbousse's premonition, CIGAs were out in force along Brim's route from Lake Mersin to the Admiralty, today protesting Attack Commands' fifth successful assault on the League's invasion buildup in Effer'wyck. The Imperial raiders had damaged a critical cable bridge (seriously hindering assembly of invasion landing craft) and destroyed a large number of attack ships on the ground.
Placards carried by the League sympathizers bore shopworn messages blaming Imperial "aggression" for causing the present hostilities, and the carriers themselves appeared to be just as confident of their cause as ever. But a closer look revealed that their ranks were noticeably thinner than only a month previously—and a nearby counterdemonstration loomed like an ominous storm nearly ready to break over their heads. Clearly, some sort of tide was beginning to turn. Brim hoped there was still time....
At the Admiralty, the two officers sat quietly in the cabinet meeting while Hagbut continued to predict an invasion. As the General and other high-ranking members of the Imperial government debated the state of affairs, a wall-sized situation board behind him showed BKAEW-based reports beginning to arrive indicating large raids were again building up over Effer'wyck.
Aram shook his head wearily as more and more Leaguers headed their way. "I feel guilty sitting here," he whispered to Brim, "while our people are out there risking their necks."
Brim nodded. "I know," he whispered back. "I feel that way every time you people go off without me. But we can't fight every battle."
"I'm so bloody tired," Aram said wryly, "it feels as if I've damn well tried."
"Yeah," Brim agreed with a grin, "I know what that feels like, too...."
At the conclusion of the Cabinet meeting—during which Brim and Aram were asked to testify on three separate occasions—General Harry Drummond, Commander of the Home Fleet, met them in the lobby of the auditorium. "Mornin', gents," he said in the sham accent he used years ago when he and Brim first met during the Mitchell Trophy races. "Cap'm Brim, sir," he asked, " 'ave you learned yet to pronounce m' name?"
" 'Iggins, General," Brim chuckled. " 'Ow's that?"
"Brim," the General said, extending his hand warmly, "you may just amount to something yet."
"I try," Brim said, shaking the man's hand.
"True enough," the General said with a huge grin, "you are one of the most trying persons I've encountered yet."
While Brim groaned, Drummond extended his hand to Aram. "And you must be Aram of Nahshon," he said.
Aram laughed and shook the General's hand. "One of these days, General," he laughed, "I may die these ruddy feathers blue."
Drummond raised an eyebrow. "Then you'll really stand out in a crowd," he said.
"You've got that right, General," Aram said with a grin, "but at least nobody'll know me."
"A point well taken, young man," Drummond chuckled. "I'll have to keep my eye on you." Then he turned to Brim. "Wilf," he said, "we need to discuss one of those 'need-to-know' things. Are you free for a metacycle or so?"
"Of course, General," Brim replied. "Aram, meet you in the wardroom?"
"When you're ready, Captain," the A'zurnian said, "General, I'm proud to have met you."
Drummond paused and smiled seriously for a moment. "I'm rather proud to have finally met you in person, Aram. Not too many of us get to go after a battleship with just a destroyer." Hatless, he saluted, then, motioning Brim to follow, he led the way along a high-ceilinged marble corridor to a bank of lifts guarded by two armed sentries. There he produced his personal ID card and nodded toward the Carescrian. "I've arranged Blue clearance for Captain Brim," he said. "Code nineteen, four fifty-seven A."
"Nineteen four fifty-seven A," the guard repeated, consulting a small logic scriber, he ticked off an entry, checked Brim's ID, and opened the lift.
Somehow, Brim felt little surprise when the car began to descend at high speed, boring its way through what seemed like thousands of irals of earth before it came to a gentle stop deep beneath the Admiralty.
"Abysmal place," Drummond quipped as the doors opened to another set of armed guards.
Brim groaned again. "Low-down description if I ever heard one, General," he whispered as the guards checked their IDs once more.
Drummond grinned, punching Brim lightly on the forearm. "I admit it, Wilf," he said, striding across the small lobby to a door with no latching mechanism. "But I'll make up for it in here." He touched his ID to the center of the panel and the massive door slid aside. Inside was a sparsely furnished living room occupied by a single, unarmed Sergeant. "How's our guest?" Drummond asked.