Clamping a firm grip on his emotions, he narrowed his eyes, "I should be honored, Praefect Groener," he said, torn between simple desire for the obviously licentious woman and cold, vindictive hate for her uniform.
"I shall look forward to that, Wilf," she said. "And, by the way, my name is not Praefect," she laughed intimately. "Inge will do perfectly well later on."
"Thank you, er, Inge," Brim said with an embarrassed bow; then he turned to the next dignitary in the receiving line. Only two more remained to be dealt with, and he passed them quickly. Soon, he was on his own.
A small orchestra was playing intimate dance music by the time he reached the refreshment bar. Locating a seat at the counter, he had just ordered a goblet of meem when he glimpsed Rogan and Margot LaKarn entering the hall with a glittering crowd of latecomers. Clearly, they had been on the town for a considerable time; three or four were having difficulty navigating to the reception line—including Margot herself.
It had been almost a year since Brim had laid eyes on the Princess. Somehow she had become even more beautiful than he remembered. As LaKarn clumsily helped her from her wrap, he revealed a glamorous apricot gown trimmed in hints of antique gold that set her splendid figure off to its absolute optimum. Her strawberry blond hair was short and fashionably disarrayed, as only a woman supremely confident of her own beauty could wear it. Brim took a deep breath to calm his rising excitement. He would have a moment with her alone tonight, somehow. It was only a matter of time.
As he waited at the bar, he sipped his meem and watched Moulding execute what must have been a most convincing assault on one of the more comely HighSpeed Starflight Team members: a tall, fiery redhead in a low-cut green gown who had green eyes to match, a mass of freckles, and breathtaking legs that seemed to go on forever. Brim had noticed her before, a lot of times. Soon, his Imperial friend was standing at the bar, formal cloak over his arm and clearly ready to leave.
"Important mission tonight, old man," he said with an embarrassed wink. "Will you mind terribly if I find my own way home to the embassy?"
Brim laughed. "If you don't, you're a xaxtdamned fool," he said with a look of feigned horror on his face.
"You've lined up a most alluring target for that mission, old friend."
"Oh, quite so," Moulding agreed with a grin that seemed to spread from ear to ear. Then he frowned for a moment. "Wish to bloody blazes we could do something for you, Wilf," he said. "The room's chock-full of eligibles tonight, but it seems as though both the cuties who might interest your egalitarian tastes are here on someone else's arm." Then he put his hand to his mouth. "Sorry, old man," he said. "I didn't mean to..."
"It's all right," Brim said, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Sometimes, I think the whole galaxy knows." He took a deep swallow of meem.
Moulding shut his eyes for a moment. "Your secret's pretty well kept," he said. "But a number of your friends have guessed."
Brim shrugged, then nodded toward the waiting redhead. "I think your mission's going to be in jeopardy soon, friend," he said. "Better get cracking."
"Yes. Right ho!" Moulding said. "Well, I'm off, then." He scowled for a moment. "It would be a shame to sleep alone with all the good hunting here tonight." Then he squeezed Brim's shoulder and disappeared into the crowd. Not long afterward, Brim watched him exit the hall with the redhead on his arm.
"Wilf," a soft voice said, "I thought you might be here tonight. I want you to meet Wyvern Theobold."
Hopping to his feet, Brim turned to face Anna Romanoff, who was even more alluring up close than she had been at a distance. It required all his concentration to avoid simply staring. How did she manage to conceal that splendid bosom with the business clothes she wore? Taking a deep breath, he gripped Theobold's proffered hand. "Glad to meet you, Wyvern," he lied.
"Glad to meet you," Theobold said. Tall and good-looking, with slate-colored hair and piercing blue-gray eyes, he was dressed in evening clothes that made Brim's rented gear feel even more common than it was. "I've certainly heard about you before," he said. His eyes met Brim's in a way that changed the Carescrian's attitude instantly.
"Anything good?" Brim asked in mock apprehension.
Theobold laughed again. "All of it," he said. "I was there in Tandor-Ra the day you virtually saved the city from an attack—led, if I remember correctly, by Kirsh Valentin." He nodded his head. "Your heroism is quite well known in Lixor."
Brim felt his face flush. "I didn't have much choice," he said. "Captain Collingswood ordered me to take the ship out, so I did. Besides," he added, "I was at the helm all the time. The Blue Capes at the guns deserve most of the praise. We had a fine crew on I.F.S. Truculent."
"From what Regula Collingswood has to say about it, you deserve a lot more credit than that," Romanoff said. "The Leaguers lost three ships that day."
"Did she also mention that, afterward, Truculent had to be scrapped?" Brim asked.
"Yes," Romanoff answered with a little smile. "And she also warned me that you probably still blame yourself for that."
"Hmmm," Theobold mused. "It sounds as if this conversation opens old and painful wounds—besides impugning certain of our more prominent hosts. I must apologize for starting it, but when Anna said that you might be here tonight, I did want to meet you."
"I wasn't all that sure you would be here," Romanoff said.
Brim shrugged, glad for the change of subject. "I wasn't all that sure I'd be here, either," he said. "The M-four and I arrived late last evening. We almost missed the deadline."
A look of concern suddenly clouded Romanoff's face. "Yes," she answered. "That's what I'd heard."
"Is anything wrong?" Brim asked.
Romanoff started to answer, but she was interrupted by the arrival of Kirsh Valentin with Inge Groener on his arm.
"Well, Theobold," Valentin crowed while he took a long and obvious look at Romanoff's low-cut gown, "it seems that you have encountered the Empire's soon-to-be-defeated Helmsman." He drew on a reeking camarge cigarette. "Introduce me to this gorgeous little woman you have on your arm," he demanded, turning his back on Groener as if she had ceased to exist.
With a look of amusement, Theobold made the introduction, then stood back while Valentin ostentatiously bowed to kiss Romanoff's gloved hand.
"You must allow me to show you the sights of Tarrott, Miss Romanoff," the Leaguer said, continuing to hold her fingers in his.
"I am honored, Provost Valentin," Romanoff replied. But her brown eyes offered no encouragement whatsoever as she withdrew her hand.
Clearly undeterred, Valentin bowed again. "I shall indeed look forward to our next encounter, madam."
Then he turned to the Lixorian. "My compliments, Theobold," he said with a smirk. "Your attraction for gorgeous women is most commendable."
Theobold smiled diplomatically and bowed. "I accept your compliments, Provost," he said, nodding toward Groener, "—and I return them."
Valentin indicated his voluptuous companion with a toss of his head. "Oh, Groener has her attributes," he said, patting her on the posterior with a careless laugh. Then he turned to Brim. "But what attributes do you bring to the race this year, my Carescrian friend?" he asked with a smirk. "Surely you have no higher hopes of winning this encounter than you did the last time we dueled. Can you have forgotten what I did to your clapped-out destroyer off Lixor a few years ago?"
Brim started to retaliate, but before he could open his mouth. Theobold spoke in a bitter voice. "Perhaps a number of us remember that incident, Provost," he interrupted, straightening to his full height. "I was in Tandor-Ra during that unprovoked raid you led."