As he fretted, Margot opened her eyes and smiled languidly, pushing the sheet down past her knees. "Good morning, my lover," she whispered while a hint of last evening's perfume caressed Brim's nostrils from the warmth of her lush body. " 'The night is past and all its sweets are gone!' " she recited in a whisper. " 'Sweet voice, sweet lips, strong hand, and stalwart breast....' Oh, Wilf, so few moments of this heaven remain with us. Can you fill me with your manfulness once more before I must return to another existence?"
Brim peered at her lush beauty. "If only that return weren't necessary," he said.
" 'If only,' " Margot sighed with a faraway look. "The most melancholy words in the Universe, perhaps." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I smoked my last pinch of The Weed just after we made love the last time—I waited until you were asleep. And within"—she peered at her miniature timepiece glowing from a bedside table—"within three metacycles I must return to the ship and beg for more or suffer the tortures of the specially damned. It's better than a chain, Wilf. They don't need guards. They know I'll be back." She stretched out her arms to him. "Hurry, my love," she urged, "make me forget that I no longer control this body of mine."
While tears stung his eyes, Brim knelt between her drawn-up legs and gently lifted her head.
"Margot, darling," he whispered as he willed himself ready, "you're the one who knows about this...disease. Isn't there any cure?"
"Death," Margot whispered, almost as if she loved the word itself. "It has become my only hope."
Biting her lip, she drew him on top of her. "Yes..." she sighed urgently, while he plunged himself into a tiny Universe of swollen, wet flesh. " Yes," she groaned through clenched teeth. Her voice caught momentarily, then she closed her eyes and clasped him fiercely. "Fill me now!"
Short metacycles afterward, Brim brooded in the right seat of a small launch with Tissaurd at the controls beside him. Since liftoff at the Levantine, only muted thunder from the spin-gray had broken the silence in the cockpit. At last, the tiny officer turned in her seat. "Skipper," she said, "you're mighty quiet for someone whom I suspect has spent the night making love. A lack of sleep perhaps or something else?"
Brim angled his head. "I haven't heard much from you, either, Number One," he retorted, unable to break his bleak mood.
"A healthy lack of sleep in my case," Tissaurd replied, glancing quickly at the NAV panels.
"Your friend Moulding seduces very easily." Then she frowned. "You will notice, however, my dear Skipper, that I have a rather satisfied smirk on my face—which you do not. Did I make a bad assumption about how you spent the night?"
"No, Number One," Brim said, staring blindly through the windshield as they bounced through a turbulent area of clouds. "The Princess and I seduced each other early and often." He made a bitter little chuckle. "I'm even pleasantly tender from it all."
"But..." Tissaurd probed.
"But?"
"You sounded as if 'but' was the next word you were going to say."
Brim snorted. "Yeah," he admitted bleakly. "It was. Only I decided not to."
"You mean you don't want to talk about it," Tissaurd prompted.
"No," Brim answered after a time. "I suppose I wouldn't mind talking about it if I could only define what that particular 'it' is."
"I don't understand," Tissaurd said with a frown.
Brim nodded. "That's just it, Number One," he replied. "Neither do I. But after all that love making, there was something missing." He turned to face her as she flew. "And that 'something'—whatever it was—must be terribly important, because I've come away with this awful feeling of emptiness."
Tissaurd checked the autohelm and relaxed in her seat, turning her head only after long moments of what appeared to be concentration. "Interesting," she said, "the difference between last night and the previous time you two met at one of Mustafa's parties. It was my understanding that on her first visit, she was escorted by a bunch of Leaguers. Is that right?"
Brim nodded. "That's right,'' he affirmed, glad for the change of topic. "Mean thragglers, too.
Four Varoldians."
"Universe," Tissaurd muttered. "They are mean. Sure sounds as if the zukeeds wanted to keep the Princess away from people."
"Seemed that way at the time," Brim agreed. "But they'd certainly gotten that nonsense out of their systems this trip. You saw it: she got there with only five retainers in tow—all from The Torond."
"Yeah," Tissaurd said, narrowing her eyes. "It doesn't make sense, somehow."
"Nothing seems to make much sense these days," Brim said, wrinkling his nose.
Tissaurd adjusted the autohelm and started a gentle descent toward the tattered gray cloud base.
"Maybe that's true," she said after a long silence. Then she turned to look him full in the race, "But maybe, Wilf Brim," she said, "just maybe it makes all the sense in the Universe." Moments later she had picked up Varnholm's new localizer beacon, and there was little time for idle talk.
Precisely one week later, Sacha Muromets arrived again, completely unannounced as on her first arrival. Aboard were another load of scarce parts; Nik Ursis, now a Fluvannian Captain; and Commodore Baxter Calhoun, the latter casualty dressed in his white IVG uniform as if he had merely been away on an overnight trip to Magor.
"Commodore!" Brim whooped in surprise at the foot of the brow. "You've had a number of us worried, the last month or so."
"Rumors o' my demise are often vastly overrated," Calhoun drawled modestly, returning Brim's salute. Hands on his hips, he sauntered to an inland wall of the gravity pool with the two officers in his wake. "Nik tells me you've done guid, thorough work here," he said, peering up and down the berthing area where eleven Starfury cruisers now floated in a seemingly random pattern optimized to reduce the effect of an attack from space. "I'd have a hard time refutin' him from whar I stand." He smiled. "Good job, young Brim. O' course," he added with a wink, "I should hae expected nothin' less—especially wi' Barbousse and the comely Lieutenant Tissaurd to do most of the really difficult work."
"I hardly needed to lift a finger," Brim said sardonically,
"Oh, I'm certain o' that, laddie," Calhoun chuckled, clapping the younger Carescrian on his shoulder. "But nonetheless, it's guid progress you've made in my absence. I'm right proud o' you."
"I'll be more than glad to turn everything back over to you now—except Starfury," Brim said.
"Oh, you will, will you?" Calhoun said. "What makes you think I'll be able to gat it all done?
Outside o' brother Ursis here, hae you seen any Fluvannian staff officers come off the brow?"
Brim frowned. "Not a one, Commodore," he admitted.
"What does that lead you to believe, young Brim?" Calhoun asked, winking slyly at the Bear.
"Somehow," Brim said, "I have the oddest feeling that you have it in mind to delegate some authority."
"Nothing odd aboot mat," Calhoun said. "I plan to parcel the management o' this place among a number of you—at the general crew members' meeting that you wull call for Evening:3:00 in Sacha's hold. All right?"
"Sounds good to me," Brim said, " I think."
"Whar's your sense of adventure, m'boy?" Calhoun asked.
"Commodore," Brim said, "when you get a look like that in your eye, it's usually time to go underground."
"Trust me," Calhoun said.
"Should I do that, Nik?" Brim inquired of the Bear.