A second surprise waited for him at Lys, for it was neither Mark Valerian nor his two friends from Sodeskaya who met him at the little Woolston terminal. When the 224's passenger hatch opened to the predawn coolness outside, it was Anna Romanoff who waited under the Karlsson lamps at the far end of the brow. His spirit soared! She'd written that she was scheduled to complete negotiations at the main Bromwich plant about the same time as his own arrival, but he hadn't expected she would be finished so soon. As he led his traveling bag through the gate, his face was set into a silly, ear-to-ear grin—and there wasn't a thing he could do about it.
"Thought you might need a lift to the labs," she teased with an impish smile, "so I got here a day early."
Her beautifully tailored cardigan suit was somehow both formal and casual at the same time. Its coarse weave managed to enhance her delicate charm.
"The labs are fine as long as you're going to be there," Brim answered while the Sodeskayans trooped past on their way to a second Sherrington skimmer. "Otherwise," he added, "well, Valerian can come find me wherever you happen to be going."
"Hmm," Romanoff murmured. "I don't suppose he would especially appreciate that since he did lend me the skimmer. I think he'd like you to fly his new ship today."
"Valerian can wait," Brim said. "Look what happened last time I went up in one of his rustbuckets." He laughed and took her arm. "Where's the skimmer, Anna?" he demanded. "We'll spend the day gathering flowers or something—and afterward I'll cash in the evening you promised me a long time ago."
She blushed again. "Mr. Brim," she declared with mock formality, "you are impossible." Then she looked into his eyes and shook her head. "How do you feel, Wilf?" she asked bluntly. "The last time I saw you, you were... well, you know... inside one of those healing machines."
"I feel damn fortunate to be alive," Brim answered seriously, "and very healthy, thank you." He nodded.
"I've received a number of new parts and a lot of good care."
"You deserve a lot of good care," she said.
"The best kind of care I can think of would be you spending the day with me while I avoid Valerian," he said.
"Wilf Brim!" she exclaimed in feigned outrage. "What am I going to do with you?"
"Well, if I do have to fly, then you could at least plan to spend the evening with me," he suggested earnestly.
"I think that can be arranged," she murmured with a blush. There's supposed to be quite a bash after the M-five's first flight."
"You'll go with me?" he asked.
"I'd love to," she said.
"In that case," he said, "I'll fly."
CHAPTER 7
Princess Margot Effer'wyck-LaKarn
Brim and Romanoff arrived at Sherrington's lakeside ramps just as dawn was tinting cotton-puff clouds over Hampton Water. The M-5 already had been drawn to the water's edge and was hovering aboard a gravity pad. Under a light coating of dew she was a velvet study in reflected mauve with rose overtones against the indigo nightward sky.
Here and there, little groups of technicians in dark blue Sherrington coveralls sat under the trees or dangled their feet from the seawall while the aroma of cvceese' from a dozen open vacuum bottles mixed with the fragrances of flowers, trees, and the rich, damp Woolston soil. It was a moment so bewitching that both the Carescrian and his lovely friend climbed wordlessly from their car and tiptoed to the top of the ramp. There they stood, silent, while they drank in the graceful collection of pastel ellipses before them in the morning serenity.
So far as Brim was concerned, Valerian's newest creation was simply the most gorgeous ship in the Universe. Just shy of eighty-five irals in length, she was slim as a needle, with a tiny, ultraraked flight bridge faired into a sharply pointed nose and two prominent, blisterlike housings high on either side of the hull, approximately ten irals abaft the side Hyperscreens. An enormous, faired-in blast tube exited just forward of the tail cone and gave mute testimony to the phenomenal power of the new creation from Sodeskaya, that featured Krasni-Peych's new PV/12 "Wizard" Drive. External surface radiators for crystal coolant passed down each flank and gave the ship a rather stylishly ornamented appearance.
Oversized Admiralty NL-4053-C gravity generators rode in long, tapered pods at each side of the hull.
They were connected just abaft the beam by streamlined "trousers" that clearly harked back to Valerian's M-4, but these, Brim noted with relief, had nothing to do with her Hyperspace Drive at all. The big 4053 gravs they did contain, however, promised astonishing acceleration below LightSpeed, and that was precisely where Mitchell racers spent critical cycles at the beginning and end of each race. Externally, she was a dark blue and carried the number "N218" on red, white, and blue racing stripes applied diagonally across the generator pods. A large "5" appeared on either side of the aft hull.
After staring for a long time, Brim suddenly noticed how cool the morning was and gently slipped his tunic over Romanoff's shoulders.
She jumped slightly at his touch, then smiled with her eyes. "Thank you," she said.
"It took me long enough," Brim replied. "I just sort of got caught up with the beauty of the whole thing."
"So did I, Wilf," she said gently, looking out at the lake and then up at the starship. "It's a moment I shall cherish," she said, glancing at her damp shoes. She looked at him full in the face for a moment. "I don't very often find such beauty in my life."
Brim was about to inquire about that when Valerian strode around the corner of the gravity pad with Borodov at his side, both grinning from ear to ear.
"Aha, Brim! Caught you gawking!" the designer exclaimed, grasping Brim's hand while Borodov received a bear hug from Romanoff. "How does this one look to you, my friend?" he asked.
Brim rubbed his chin and considered for a moment. "She looks right, somehow," he answered.
Dressed in his usual tweeds and Rhodorian boots, Valerian grinned and nodded. "If she looks right, then she probably is right," he said, "—at least that's how the story goes."
"Well, if the simulators are any indication," Brim asserted, "then she's quite a ship."
"She is... ah... ready to fly," Valerian said suggestively.
"You're not in any hurry, are you?" Brim asked with a grin.
Valerian adjusted his glasses with a chagrined expression. "I suppose I oughtn't to be," he answered.
Then he took a deep breath and grimaced. "Look here," he said, "I'm not going to feel right about the old M-four coming apart like that until I manage to put you aboard a good ship." He glanced up at the M-5.
"And I think I've got one there."
Brim laughed and winked at Romanoff. "I think he does, too," he said. "Tell you what. If you'll look after my coat for a while, I'll go somewhere and change into a battle suit. Then we'll all find out for sure."
For a moment, Romanoff glanced at Valerian and Borodov. "No offense to either of you gentlemen," she began, "but..." Then she turned to look Brim directly in the eye. "You're certain you want to fly today, Wilf?" she asked, taking his arm for a moment. "This time, there's no hurry."
"I'm certain," Brim replied, meeting her gaze with what he hoped was a confident look. "If you want to know the truth, I'm always a little anxious the first time I take any ship aloft, even one of his," he said, pointing with a thumb at Valerian. "But that's simply part of being a responsible Helmsman. It sort of comes with the territory. And besides," he added, "I'm not going all the way out into deep space this first ride. I won't do that until later."