"I'd heard," Tissaurd said. "Word got around right after the Chief released his report."
Brim nodded. "What hasn't gotten around is Commodore Atcherly's answer to that report."
Tissaurd frowned. "Hmm," she said. "From the look on your face, it wasn't very promising. What did he say?"
"Not a lot," Brim replied, taking a long, thoughtful sip of cvceese'. "Just that it will take a long time for Calshot's maintenance people to make the repairs we need. Starfury is simply too big for any of the local facilities. It was all they could do to have her drawn onto their biggest gravity pool. Everything else will have to be done practically by hand."
"I suppose things wouldn't have been much better had we set her down at Varnholm Hall,"
Tissaurd granted. "Because we certainly don't have any bigger facilities there."
Brim nodded. "That's it, Number One," he said. "And the damned CIGAs are still tying up facilities in all the other ports around Ordu. Calhoun KA'PPAed the situation to Avalon about a metacycle ago."
"Well, Skipper," she said, "then it's time to remind you of the talk we had on brick walls a while back."
Brim glowered at the tiny officer. "I remember,'' he grumped. "But how in xaxt sake can I just step back and wait for something 'different' to happen? There's a war on!"
"Yeah," Tissaurd said with a little smile, "I'd noticed the war."
"Well, then?"
"Then, Skipper," she said, "you probably ought to turn in for a few metacycles of sleep tonight, because, war or no war, everything about Starfury is stopped cold!"
Early the next morning, Calhoun messaged from Varnholm. Brim took it on the bridge, where he was helping run tests on a bank of flight controls.
"I'm aboot to send a launch for you, young Brim," Calhoun said. "You might as well be here helpin' me plan what we're going to do about yon xaxtdamme fort, for there's clearly nothin' much you can do there that Lieutenant Tissaurd can't handle for you."
Brim could only nod agreement. He hated sitting on his hands. Soon after Calhoun closed the connection, he slid from his seat and started aft to pack an overnight bag when he heard a great rolling thunder overhead, as if a capital ship were making landfall out on Lake Solent. Fighting down a moment's dread, he willed himself calm—had this been a raiding Leaguer, there would have been at least a little warning. He glanced up through the Hyperscreens just in time to see a colossal form materialize from the overcast in the still-dim light of dawn—and stopped in his tracks, flabbergasted. Great stowed cranes parked fore and aft like outsize disrupters, monstrous hatches, massive sheer flanks of streaked hullmetal plate, and a low glowering bridge. He'd only seen one Repair and Salvage vessel like that one, ever Commodore Tor's big Refit Enterprise, from Gimmas Haefdon! As the great form hurdled overhead, four familiar shapes descended with her: Starfuries, with whirling condensation contrails streaming from their pontoons. And the Imperial Comet blazed prominently from abaft their bridges. They were from home!
While the squadron settled toward the lake—that was even now boiling as landing vectors were cleared in the ice—a COMM rating bustled aft among the control toward him.
"Captain Brim!" he called. "Commodore Calhoun's on the HoloPhone for you again."
"I'll take it here," Brim said, reaching to activate a globular display on a nearby navigator's console. The elder Carescrian's visage appeared almost instantly.
"Well, Brim," he said with a smile. "I understand they made it."
"You mean Commodore Tor and the Refit Enterprise!" Brim asked.
"Faith!" Calhoun exclaimed happily. "An' who else were you expectin'?"
Brim grinned. "I wasn't expecting anyone, Commodore," he said. "But I'm sure happy to see Commodore Tor—and the Starfuries. Looks like the Fleet is finally taking some deliveries."
Calhoun nodded. "Those are the nineteenth thru the twenty-second, lad," he said. "An' e'en though they aren't permitted to help us in our efforts, they are authorized to defend the Enterprise while she puts Starfury back to rights."
As Brim watched, the colossal starship set down on the lake with a massive grace all out of proportion to her size. The Starfuries, however, continued on their way and soared effortlessly back into the clouds. "Enterprise is down safely, Commodore," he said.
"Good," Calhoun said, "sorry I wasn't able to give you more warnin'. I only found out myself just after I'd talked to you. Brother Drummond played this one mighty close to his vest."
"I'm not surprised, sir," Brim observed, "with the fuss the CIGAs are able to raise at home."
Calhoun nodded. "Weel, m'boy," he said. "You and that crazy Number One o' yours wull want to spend a wee time talkin' wi' Commodore Tor, so I'll temporarily counter my orders havin' you report immediately to Varnholm Hall," he said with a strange little smile. "The Commodore has some information that I'd like you both to hear from him. The man's produced an absolute miracle back at old Gimmas Haefdon."
"A miracle?" Commodore?
"You judge it for yourself, young Brim," the Commodore laughed. "An' I shall expect you to report as soon as you and Tissaurd have learned all Tor's willin' to tell you."
"Aye, sir," Brim promised. "I'll be there!" Then he struggled into his Fleet Cloak, turned up the thermostat, and made his way to the main hatch and Refit Enterprise.
Later that morning in the wardroom, Tissaurd and Brim met Commodore Tor for a late breakfast....
"How are you today, Nadia?" Tor asked.
"Terrible, Commodore." Tissaurd chuckled with a theatrically demented grin.
" That's nice," Tor answered, winking reassuringly at the Steward—whose jaw had suddenly dropped in consternation. "I feel horrible, too."
"Good! Glad to hear it!" Tissaurd exclaimed. "And you, Captain, how are you this snowy morning?"
"Worse than ever, Number One," Brim grumped spuriously. "You, Commodore," he remanded, "have clearly set a bad precedent in Starfury's wardroom."
"Why, Captain Brim," Tor protested, hand on his heart in a gesture of mock innocence, "how can you say that?"
"In Avalonian, mostly," Brim said with a grin. "And you're no better than the Commodore, Number One," he added, pointing an accusatory finger at Tissaurd. Soon afterward, the Steward recovered enough to serve steaming mugs of cvceese' and Starfury's own version of a dish called "battercakes," smothered in a pungent hot syrup—and for the next few cycles, everyone was much too busy for talk.
When conversation eventually resumed—with the third round of cvceese'—Brim learned that Tor had ordered out maintenance crews from both the Calshot Station and Enterprise long before dawn.
The huge salvage vessel was now hovering no more than ten irals from Starfury's side, using her own mighty levitating systems instead of a gravity pool. Moreover, huge cranes had already raised the damaged cruiser nearly twelve irals without disturbing anyone aboard. Even as the four officers sipped cvceese' and talked, massive new power chambers rumbled across a temporary bridge between the two hulls, and replacement hullmetal plates were taking shape on glowing collapsium forges deep within the big ship's hold.
"What I don't understand," Brim commented at length, "is how you managed to bring Enterprise here in the first place. Especially with an escort of four Starfuries. Since the CIGAs first got wind of the operation, I haven't been able to get help—anywhere."