The ancient warship carrying Fluvanna's deposed Nabob, his Consort Raddisma, and much of their court, arrived over the city, making safe landfall only metacycles following the third raid. Someone very influential among the Imperial High Command had ordered an unusually large Imperial escort for the old vessel, and not a single attack had been made against the strong convoy.
After a headlong shuttle flight from FleetPort 30 to what remained of Grand Imperial Terminal on Lake Mersin, Brim arrived to meet his beautiful— very pregnant—one-time lover at the brow as she disembarked onto the main concourse. However, it was first necessary to wait until the "official" welcoming ceremonies were complete.
First off the ship was Mustafa, the Nabob, who was met by Prince Onrad, members of his War Cabinet, and Oodam Beyazh in an unsparing show of support for the deposed monarch. After speeches by both Emperors, the royal entourage was forced to detour around high piles of debris that seemed to be everywhere, and the moment they had been bundled into their limousine skimmers, brigades of dusty people restarted their noisy sweeping machines as they continued to keep the main thoroughfares clear.
Endless throngs of travelers were still passing through the huge terminus with little regard for the war that was raging around them, and any sustained interruption of the basic flow would smother the Empire in certain economic defeat.
When finally Petty Officer Cosa Tutti assisted Raddisma off the end of the brow, it was the first time Brim's eyes had met the Consort's since their considerably fecund one-night liaison in Brim's cabin aboard I.F.S. Starfury in Fluvanna. Even nearing the end of her term, Raddisma was beautiful—and regal as ever.
"Raddisma," Brim said, taking her hand, "you must be nearly dead after that long trip. How do you feel?"
She smiled wearily. " Extremely pregnant, Wilf Brim," she said with a tired little smile. "Our daughter seems most anxious to be born. A trait of impatience she most certainly has picked up from her father."
Brim grinned. "Certainly not!" he said with a feigned indignation.
Raddisma took his arm as they started slowly across the littered marble floor. "We shall see, Wilf Brim," she said. "It is only presentiment, of course, but I have a feeling she will be a great deal like you."
"She'd at least better look like her mother," Brim said. "If she misses having the kind of beauty she can get from you, she'll hate both of us—forever."
Raddisma stared at him. "Am I still beautiful, Wilf Brim?" she asked.
"Still the most beautiful," Brim said, looking into her glorious almond-shaped eyes.
"Even swollen as I am everywhere?"
"Perhaps even more beautiful," he said. Then surreptitiously he patted her distended stomach.
"However," he added with a little grin, "you may have some competition in here."
"I shall never compete with my daughter, Wilf," she said. "Whatever attributes I possess I gladly bequeath to her." Then she looked into his eyes and her countenance grew dark. "Except the title of Consort," she said. "May she never be a whore. It's been a good life for me, I'll admit but, well..." She pursed her lips for a moment. "I didn't have quite the start in life I plan for her. Earning a living on my back—and other more athletic positions—placed me in a considerably better income bracket than the one to I was originally accustomed."
"I didn't know," Brim mumbled, searching for the right words to say.
"No," she replied quickly, her little smile returning, "I shouldn't think you've had much experience with whores."
"I meant, er..."
"I know what you meant, Wilf," she said, covering his lips with a perfumed finger.
"No," Brim protested, "I don't think you do."
"Oh?"
Brim placed his hand over hers as she held on to his arm. "What I meant was that I would never permit such a thing to happen to my daughter."
"My daughter," Raddisma said. "You contributed nothing but a few squirts of your semen." She grinned and blushed slightly. "You contributed them magnificently, I might add, but she is my daughter, as I indicated in my letter."
Brim opened his mouth to chime in, but she continued on without interruption. "Remember, my proud father-to-be," she said as they walked through the crowded, dusty terminal, "that Mustafa, the absolute Nabob of Fluvanna, has accepted her as the child of his seed. And that gives her quite a few advantages neither of us could give her—alone or together. Besides, as I made quite clear in my message, when I decided to keep those squirts of semen you provided, I also vowed to absolve you of any responsibility," She laughed a little. "You did, as I remember, ask me very seriously if you needed to take any precautions—and I deliberately told you that you did not."
"I appreciate that," Brim interjected. "But what if I want some responsibility? It just so happens that I kind of like the idea of having a daughter."
"You can have all the responsibility you want, Wilf Brim," she said, "as her favorite 'Uncle.' " She shook her head. "Just what kind of a father do you think you would be when you spend most of your time whizzing around the galaxy?"
"Well..."
"Well, nothing," she said, wrinkling her nose and smiling happily. "You have no idea how delighted I am that you have a real interest in this"—she placed her hands on either side of her distended abdomen—"altogether giant child. But unless something happens to me—or to Fluvanna—please don't do anything that would affect her royal status. Maybe someday, a long time from now, we'll tell her—together. But not now. Besides. It would simply devastate Mustafa to know that someone else has shared my passion—and will again, as soon as my body is ready."
This time, it was Brim's turn to blush—he could feel his cheeks burn.
She smiled; she couldn't escape noticing. "Yes, my Carescrian lover," she whispered, "even now I can think of taking you between my legs again." By this time, they had come to the main entrance where a literal caravan of chauffeurs and limousine skimmers waited at the curb to escort Mustafa's court to their new residence in Avalon.
Brim took a deep breath. He'd never before met anybody like Raddisma—and didn't expect he ever would again. "Do you know where you will be staying?" he asked.
"Yes," she said with an amazed look. "Mustafa and I are to be housed in the Royal Palace itself.
Can you imagine that? Everybody else is being put up at the Eubry House on the other side of town. This Prince Onrad of yours is a strange man." she added. "To my knowledge, no other refugee rulers—not even the deposed Grand Earl of Effer'wyck—stays at the Royal Palace."
"It's you." Brim joshed. "As a man of true taste, he enjoys living under the same roof with one of the most beautiful women in the galaxy."
"Oh, of course," she said with a smile. "And I'm the only one who looks like a large starship."
Brim shook his head. "When will I see you again?" he asked.