"Low-life Carescrian slime," Amherst swore under his breath. "Then I was right!" His face became a mask of ghastly anger. "You will know my power someday, mark those words well." With that, he whirled around and stormed away from the table—directly into a busboy laden with a large tray of dirty dishes. The clattering avalanche of disintegrating plates and silverware focused every eye on the CIGA leader.
In the shocked silence that followed, Brim whispered over his shoulder, "Psst! Commodore...."
Momentarily stunned with embarrassment, Amherst turned. "What now, Brim?" he demanded.
"Watch your step, old man," Brim warned him with a straight face.
The enraged CIGA nearly lost his footing on the pile of shattered crockery, then retreated among the tables toward the door. As he exited, he was trailed by a beautiful blond man wearing the uniform of an ensign.
Brim took a deep breath as conversation resumed in the dining room, then shook his head in frustration. It was people like that who had doomed the comfortable civilization he lived in. With the Admiralty riddled by powerful CIGAs like him and the Fleet reduced to a shadow of its former self, the next war was going to be a lot more destructive than most Imperials could imagine. He'd just missed seeing the League's new Gorn-Hoff killer-cruiser in Fluvanna, but it promised to be a most destructive ship. It would have to be, if only to survive fights with Starfuries. He sipped his meem thoughtfully. Before the coming war was over, even Avalon itself would feel the power of ships like that just as the poor souls in the outskirts of the Empire—like Carescria—did at the beginning of the last war. People had no idea what was in store for them. As the Emperor had so aptly put it, a terrible darkness was settling rapidly over the whole galaxy, and everyone—without exception—would in one way or another be most devastatingly affected by it.
Only days later, Calhoun departed abruptly—and in mufti— for little Beta Jago, a small but wealthy dominion that had been high on Nergol Triannic's "want list" since before the previous war. Only great sacrifices on the part of the Imperial Fleet had saved the little star system then, and now the League clearly intended to finish the job they had started so many years previously.
When Brim saw him off from the Sodeskayan section of the Grand Imperial Terminal, he had real feelings of concern, not only for Calhoun who was knowingly putting himself at risk, but also for himself.
Without question, if anything happened to the elder Carescrian, he would be forced to take on much more of the IVG's administrative and political tasks. And he did not feel he was ready to perform either of the duties, especially the political ones.
Precisely one week later, civilized dominions throughout the galaxy received their first electrifying shock of what many recognized to be the beginning of the next war: Nergol Triannic's League attacked and overrun the tiny dominion of Beta Jago, capturing all five populated planets in little more than three Standard Days. Almost immediately, news of atrocities began to leak from behind the little dominion's sealed borders. Brutal Controllers were quick to extract a frightful toll of the citizens, phlegmatically murdering thousands of the weak and elderly, as well as notable enemies, merely to satisfy the basic expedient of reducing occupation costs. Significantly many of the staunchest Leaguer proponents among the native Beta Jago populace were among the first to die. As the Bears always predicted, traitors were considered to be among the most inconsistent elements in a civilization. And inconsistency was a most notably difficult attribute to govern.
Messages from Calhoun, of course, ceased immediately. But by that time, Brim had no more time to squander on worries. He was caught up with preparations for transferring Starfury—and as many of her crew as possible—to a new base of operations in Fluvanna, Clearly, that strategic little dominion would be next on Triannic's list of conquests.
CHAPTER 6
Fluvanna
"Almost time, Cap'm," Barbousse warned.
Grimly, Brim checked his timepiece; it was. "Thanks, Chief," he said, straightening his Fleet Cloak. It was a job he found most difficult—notwithstanding years of practice. "Let's get it over with," he grunted.
Barbousse nodded and stepped out onto the stage, paused dramatically for a moment, then shouted, "THE CAP'M!"
Directly, Starfury's ninety-one officers and ratings jumped to their feet in a confusion of scrapes and coughs that belied any capacity whatsoever for running a starship.
When the room became still, Brim strode to the lectern, peering apprehensively out into the auditorium Drummond had reserved for him in the Admiralty Annex. He was going to considerably upset these people before much more of the morning had passed. "Seats," he ordered crisply.
After another round of shuffling and scraping, a semblance of quiet returned to the room.
"I have a strange announcement this afternoon," Brim continued abruptly, "as well as what may be the strangest proposition you've been offered this side of Voot's tangled beard."
Frowns of curiosity appeared everywhere.
"First," he continued briskly, "it is my bizarre duty to inform you that I.F.S, Starfury has been leased to the Fluvannian government for a period of at least a year. She will depart Avalon as soon as she can be prepared."
A momentary stillness fell like a chill over the room, followed by an angry stir of bewildered dismay.
"Starfury?" someone asked. "Leased?"
"To Fluvanna... ?"
"Somebody sure sold us out to the CIGAs this time."
'"Oo 'av the bloody Wogs got to crew her, anyhow? She's no thraggling antique like the rest of their so-called Fleet!"
Brim held up his hand. "Before you say anything more," he enjoined, "let me offer that proposition I mentioned."
Grudgingly, order returned to the room.
"How many of you would like to sign up for the Fluvannian Fleet," he asked, "with no change in rank?"
This time, the room stayed silent for a few shocked moments. "Captain Brim," one of the Drive Room officers called out by and by, "have you joined the CIGAs, or something?"
"Yeah!" another joined in hotly. "Why in the Universe would any of us want to join the Fluvannian Fleet?"
"Well," Brim replied easily, "one reason might be to continue serving in Starfury, As Petty Officer Kenzie pointed out, someone's got to run her, and right now, we're the only ones in the known Universe with any practical experience."
"When you use the word 'we,' Captain Brim," one of Barbousse's assistants demanded warily, "does that include you, too?"
"You bet it does, Singleton," Brim replied. "I signed up more than a week ago, with Commodore Calhoun. They're fitting our new Fluvannian uniforms as I speak." Smiling, he held up his hand once more for silence—he definitely had their attention now. "Here's the whole story," he continued and launched into an abbreviated version of Calhoun's standard presentation—to which he added a description of Greyffin IV's guarantee. By the time he finished, the room had become very still indeed. "The deck is again open for questions," he offered, "this time, I'm accepting serious ones."
After a long time, a single hand went up. "What about the ones of us who might be killed in the line of duty?" a Gunnery Officer asked.
"Good for the estate, if nothing else," Brim answered grimly. "Death and disability benefits are separately paid by each government, giving you a one hundred percent increase, because both Services pay Admiralty scale."
"How about maintenance for the ship, Captain?" another asked.
"That," Brim answered truthfully, "will be a real challenge. You've seen Magor yourselves, and we're to be based at a place called Varnholm, nearly a thousand c'lenyts nearer the boreal pole—where facilities are described by the Fluvannians themselves as... he consulted his notes... 'somewhat deteriorated.' I've only seen HoloPictures, but I tend to agree with the descriptions."