Only slightly taken aback, Brim laughed; he'd been expecting something like this since the ship lifted for the last time from Penard Bay. "That's good to know, sir," he said, gripping the General's hand.
"If I ever need a little extra time for something, I'll be sure to come to you." Then he turned to Contrell.
"He hasn't done you any favors in the ship-assignment department, Commander," he said. "We treat equipment rough in the IVG."
"Er, yes, Captain," Contrell replied, looking just the slightest bit bewildered. "I couldn't help notice the missing forequarter of your port pontoon—or the... ah... excellent patching that has been done in the field." He had a wispy blond mustache and slightly buck teeth with just enough superciliousness about him to indicate that Starfury would soon have still another First Lieutenant. Contrell was an administrator, not a Helmsman.
Brim clapped him on the shoulder. "She's a good old bus," he said gently. "She just needs a little bit of work." Then he offered his hand to Beyazh. "Mr. Ambassador," he said with a smile, "to what do I owe the honor of your presence?"
Beyazh grinned, "I wanted to make certain you actually were still alive. Captain," he said. "In my business, one learns never to trust word-of-mouth reports completely—and the General here knows how much importance Mustafa Eyren places in your person. Had you lost your life jousting with that Leaguer space fort, I might never have heard the truth about you."
"Oh, we'd have had to admit it," Drummond laughed. "We couldn't fake him if we wanted to."
"I sincerely believe that," Beyazh said, then drew a red envelope from the folds of his robe. "But I had a second reason for meeting the Captain, too." He handed the envelope to Brim. "In spite of my best detective efforts, I have no idea what this envelope contains, only that Raddisma herself sealed it in my presence and commanded me to personally deliver it into your hands." He smiled. "I have now obeyed her wishes."
Brim frowned as familiar perfume teased his nostrils. "Thank you, Mr. Ambassador," he said, placing the letter inside his white IVG Fleet Cloak (that would soon be traded for a version in Imperial blue). A small inner voice had warned him that it would be a good idea to put off reading its contents until he was alone.
"And now, Captain," Drummond intruded into his thoughts, "you and I need a few moments of privacy. Commander, I assume you can find your way to the bridge with Commander Tissaurd's promotion and orders."
"I can indeed, General," Contrell replied. He nodded to Brim. "My best to you, Captain," he said. Then—to Brim's horror —he bowed to Beyazh and strode off down the corridor. True Imperials never bowed.
Drummond shook his head. "Ex CIGA lickspittle," he explained. "He's only here because Tissaurd's in charge. He'll merely fill out her crew complement on the way to Sherrington's for the refit."
Beyazh nodded approval. "It would be frightening to discover that your actual combat billets were filled with such persons." He laughed. "I have always rather admired the way you Imperials normally refuse to bow." He placed a hand on Brim's shoulder and smiled. "If we do not meet before you depart for your new assignment—which General Drummond refuses to divulge," he added, peering with mock displeasure over his eyeglasses, "then I shall wish you well until the next time." With that, he touched his forehead and lips in the Fluvannian gesture of fellowship and strode off down the corridor.
In Brim's cabin, Drummond waited impatiently while the Carescrian scanned his new orders.: ASHF234812-19E GROUP 198BA 113/52011
[TOP SECRET]
PERSONNEL ACTION MEMORANDUM, IMPERIAL FLEET,
PERSONAL COPY
FROM:
BU FLEET PERSONNEL;
ADMIRALTY, AVALON
TO:
W. A. BRIM, CAPTAIN, I.F.
AVALON
<0893BVC-12-K2134MV/573250>
SUBJECT: DUTY ASSIGNMENT
(1) YOU ARE DETACHED PRESENT IVG DUTY AS OF 205/52012.
(2) PROCEED MOST EXPEDITIOUS TRANSPORT GIMMAS STARBASE,
HAEFDON. REPORT REAR ADM B. GALLSWORTHY, 11 GROUP, CENTRAL
COMPLEX AS SECTOR COMMANDER.
(3) EMPEROR'S AWARD CEREMONIES POSTPONED. IMPERIAL COMET
FORWARDED GIMMAS UNDER SEPARATE COVER.
(4) SUBMIT TRAVEL EXPENSE VOUCHERS DIRECT ADMIRALTY
C/O K. I. BARNETT, LTCMDR, IF @ FLEET PERSONNEL, ADMIRALTY,
AVALON
FOR THE EMPEROR:
TANDOR K. KNORR, CAPTAIN, I.F.
[END TOP SECRET]
ASHF234812-19E
"Sector Commander," Brim yelped in horror, "under Bosporus Gallsworthy? General, I'm just a simple Helmsman!"
Drummond laughed. "A Helmsman, maybe," he allowed. "But simple? Not on your life! At least not the way either Gallsworthy or Calhoun look at things. Those old friends had a tremendous row over who got you. It took Prince... er... Emperor Onrad to settle things. And since Calhoun's new assignment will be in the arena of overall strategy, Gallsworthy got the nod."
"But he's a Commissioner, not an Admiral, General!"
"You didn't read the message carefully enough," Drummond said with a chuckle. "It says 'Rear Admiral,' not 'Commissioner.' "
"Yes, sir," Brim grumped. "I guess I saw it."
"Old Bosporus wanted back into the war," Drummond continued. "He'd had enough of fighting from a desk chair. So he yelled loud enough—and in the proper ears—to make the switch."
Brim" nodded. "Somehow, I'm not surprised, General," he said. "He was the most superb Helmsman I've known."
"In that case," Drummond said, "I'll assume you've accepted the assignment without an argument—as if that would do any good?"
Brim frowned. "General," he remonstrated, "I hardly even know what a wing is much less what commanding one entails. Will I still get my hands on the controls of a starship once in a while?"
" Starfury's been in a foreign country too long for me to trust that she hasn't been bugged,"
Drummond replied, glancing around the cabin. "And the details of your new job are highly classified. So you'll have to learn about all that when you arrive at Gimmas. But I will promise you this: Eventually, you will be quartered just outside Avalon—and if my predictions are anywhere close to accurate, even you may put in more flying time than you want."
This time, it was Brim's turn to smile. "In that case, General," he said, "no argument."
"Good man," Drummond said. "I figured that you'd come through. That's why I'm in such a hurry this morning—and also why Starfury's parked where she is. On the next gravity pool to starboard is I.F.S. Jacques Schneider, scheduled to lift off in just one metacycle—or as soon as you pack a light travel bag. My office already forwarded the Imperial uniforms you had in storage here, and I'll have Barbousse pack and send the rest of your shipboard gear with his own." He chuckled for a moment,
"Onrad gave strict orders that the two of you are not to be separated. Says you're the worst thing that's happened to the League since we invented the 406-mmi disruptor...."*
Less than one hectic metacycle later, Brim scrubbed at vestiges of Tissaurd's lipstick on his cheek while he strapped himself into a jump seat on the destroyer's tiny bridge. He looked back through the clearing afternoon at his first command. Even patched as she was, Starfury remained one of the most naturally beautiful machines he'd ever encountered. He thought about the great Mitchell racers she claimed as direct ancestors, and smiled. Every iral a thoroughbred!
Then, abruptly, the whole waterfront of the military complex disappeared behind cascades of water as Schneider began her takeoff run and presently soared into the overcast. So much for vacation plans....