Tor smiled. "That's probably the reason I'm here, then," he said with a cryptic little smile. "I'm from nowhere." He joined the tips of his fingers and appeared to be deep in thought for a few moments.
"What I am about to tell you," he said presently, "has been such a carefully guarded secret that even you, Wilf Brim, were kept in the dark about it. They sent you—and you, Lieutenant Tissaurd—off to too many places where you might fall into League hands." He frowned. "With the near-term resumption of hostilities, however," he continued, "the secret of Gimmas Haefdon will be revealed soon enough. So it is time both of you know the whole story."
Tissaurd smiled and nodded her head. "I thought something was strange about the 'closed-down' status of that planet every time we flew anywhere near the surface. Those big reactors were always active—everywhere. If the place had really been shut down, they would all have been cold."
"You were—and are—correct, Lieutenant," Tor said. "But the power was continuously in use."
"By whom?" Brim asked, frowning.
"Well," Tor said, "by the people who fabricated Starfury's new space radiators, for example."
Brim felt his face flush in embarrassment "Of course," he said, snapping his fingers. "I thought at the time that you people had pulled off true magic fabricating that in Enterprise."
Tor smiled. " Enterprise's crews are good," he said. "But even they can't work the kind of miracles something like that would have required." He sat back while the Steward filled his mug with more cvceese', then nodded, as if he had just made up his mind about something. "So far as the CIGAs are concerned," he began at length, "Gimmas Haefdon was closed down more than ten Standard Years ago—except for small-scale maintenance operations and some 'nonessential research.' " His eyes lit up with humor for a moment. "We were careful to make certain that Amherst and his coterie of traitors remained convinced that they made Gimmas into a certifiable nowhere. But shortly after its so-called closing, a number of colleagues and myself pulled certain strings to become that 'small-scale maintenance crew' and began turning the base into one of five covert somewheres that may yet help to save the Empire from its CIGA cancer."
"What you do there can be that critical?" Tissaurd asked.
"Well," Tor replied with a smile, "I'm not authorized to talk about everything, but we certainly build Starfuries at Gimmas. The four new ships that escorted Enterprise were built there—they completed their deep-space trials just before we departed for Fluvanna. And," he continued, cleaning his spectacles with a huge white handkerchief, "if you have not already guessed, all four ships are here at the direct orders of Prince Onrad."
"Universe," Tissaurd whispered. "Prince Onrad?"
"He and General Drummond have been keeping close tabs on the situation here in Fluvanna," Tor said. "They waited as long as they could before playing their hand, but with the appearance of the new Gorn-Hoffs, it quickly became clear that Baxter Calhoun would soon need heavy maintenance support.
There are five more Enterprise-class salvage and repair ships under construction, but they're far from complete. We were the only game in town, so to speak."
" Enterprise is one miraculous game," Brim said appreciatively. "But they certainly did wait until the last possible cycle to send her. If she hadn't already been on your way, Starfury would have been out of action for weeks!"
"I know," Tor said sympathetically. "I'm empowered to apologize for both the Prince and General Drummond."
"Doesn't really matter now," Brim allowed pragmatically. " 'All's well that ends well,' as somebody once observed."
"Actually," Tor said, "it really doesn't end, so to speak."
"I don't understand," Brim said.
"Well," Tor said, "only one of the Starfuries will depart when we've finished here. The other three—along with Refit Enterprise will be based at Varnholm Hall. Permanently—or as long as the IVG exists."
"Universe!" Brim exclaimed. "Now that's what I call help!" He grinned. "And we can certainly use three more Starfuries, even with rookie crews."
"Hmm," Tor said with a frown. "There, you're in for a bit of a disappointment.''
"Why?" Brim demanded.
"It has to do with the Imperial comets they have abaft their bridges," Tor explained with a grimace, "like the ones Enterprise wears. They are all ships of the Imperial Fleet—and the Empire isn't just now at war with the League." He peered over his glasses apologetically. "It's only a technicality, of course. But unfortunately...."
"I remember Calhoun telling me about it, now," Brim said, shaking his head in frustration. "So the Starfuries are here to protect Enterprise, eh?"
"I'm afraid that's about it—at least until the Emperor can get around the CIGAs in the General Parliament and declare war."
Brim nodded and grinned. "As they put things in Sodeskaya," he said, "it's a lot better than a poke in the eye with a sharp icicle."
Tor nodded sober agreement. "It certainly seems to be that," he observed.
Tissaurd nodded. "And getting back to Gimmas Haefdon for a moment, Commodore," she said, "unless I miss my guess, you're not just building Starfuries there, are you? I'll bet you're working on that stripped-down, killer-ship version of Starfury people have been whispering about!" She grinned and fixed him with one of her gazes. "I always wondered what somebody like Mark Valerian was doing there just for Starfury's deep-space acceptance trials. He already knew the ship would pass with flying colors."
Tor's face colored and he smiled. "Probably, we ought to discuss killer-ships at a more appropriate time, Lieutenant," he demurred. "But, as I said, we, ah, do keep busy out there...." At that moment, a singularly piercing thud sounded from deep within the hull. Tor's eyebrows shot up with real concern. "I think I'm probably needed down there," he said, pushing back his chair, then he stopped and held up his index finger. "Captain Brim," he said, "would it be possible to ask a favor of you and your ship?"
"We are at your service, Commodore," Brim replied.
"Good," the Commodore replied, "Then have your wardroom cook send over the recipe for those, er, 'battercakes' you fed me this morning and I shall be forever in your debt."
"I'll do it debt free. Commodore," Brim promised.
"Good," Tor said, "and I shall expect both of you in Enterprise's wardroom this evening," he said. "Evening and one on the dot."
"We'll be there, Commodore," Brim promised. "Could I bring a few bottles of Logish Meem with me?"
" Could you?" Tor asked in astonishment. "But of course, Brim," he said. "You didn't think I'd let you in without them, did you?"
"Well," Brim countered, "under normal circumstances, I'd probably admit that you had me over a barrel, Commodore."
"Well, I do, don't I?" Tor demanded.
"Oh, absolutely, Commodore," Brim answered, "unless you decide that you also want a recipe for the syrup that goes with the battercakes."
Tor looked stunned. "Captain Brim," he groaned in dismay, "do you mean to tell me that the syrup recipe isn't included with the one for the battercakes?"
"No, sir," Brim said. "It's an all-purpose syrup."
"I see," Tor said, frowning as if he were considering some complex engineering problem. "On the other hand," he added, "the cakes themselves are delicious. There's no getting around that. So you'd better bring the meem and the syrup recipe—just to be sure. You never know how the rest of my day will go." Then, with a grin, he disappeared through the hatch.