The Mercenaries

by Bill Baldwin

  "Um, Cap'm," Barbousse intruded on his discomfort, "I'm 'fraid you an' Madame Raddisma will have to go on board without signin' in this evening." He frowned. "Somehow the whole mechanism went out of commission less than a metacycle ago. I just stationed myself here in case someone unauthorized tries to come on board. Never can be too careful, as you say, sir."

  Suddenly Brim understood. He closed his eyes in silent thanks. "Chief," he said when he had recovered the ability to speak, "I shall probably never be able to thank you sufficiently for taking over this duty tonight."

  "All part of m'job, Cap'm." Barbousse said, knuckling his forehead as Brim and Raddisma started toward the main corridor of the ship. "I'll be here as long as... um... I'm needed."

  Brim nodded; there was nothing else to say.

  "It has been a pleasure meeting you. Chief," Raddisma said, stopping to touch the big rating's arm. "Your name comes up often among the ladies at court," she said with a broad smile.

  Barbousse blushed. "Um... well... those fine ladies always make me feel... um... pretty wonderful."

  Raddisma grinned while her own face colored. "I'm certain they do, Chief," she commented. "And I can see why." Reaching over the desk, she put her hands on his cheeks and gently pulled him down to where she could plant a quick kiss on the tip of his nose. "I think you're pretty wonderful, too." Then she turned to Brim. "Now, Captain," she said, "I am ready to see those damaged power chambers."

  * * *

  Their visit probably cost Brim an aggregate fifty metacycles of work among the damage-control engineers who were totally captivated by Raddisma's natural intelligence and glowing, sympathetic personality. The badly ruptured chambers had been exposed to Lake Solent's damp, cold atmosphere without heat for almost a Standard Day and Raddisma never even had the chance to get out of her great black cloak. Yet wherever she went, she dispensed her own brand of sunny charm that uniquely warmed everything she touched, both physically and spiritually. Sodeskayans nearly always exhibited an appreciation for human women, and the normally rancorous Chief Baranev was no exception. After a few moments conversation with the beautiful Fluvannian, the old Bear would clearly have eaten from her hand.

  After a while, Brim found himself daydreaming about their talk in the limousine and wished that she weren't making quite so thorough a job of her visit. But he had to admit that nothing he could ever have done himself would have resulted in such a beneficial effect on the tired crews—who still faced working well into the morning. He followed patiently while she listened with great care to each tale of horror and endured a thousand descriptions of damaged systems, from mangled, two-story generators and wave guides to melted electronic circuit assemblies. She must have inspected each linear iral of the jagged tear in Starfury's side, leaning out over the frozen lake literally dozens of times to inspect every major (and minor) detail that someone in the crew deemed important.

  Eventually, however, she stopped at Brim's side and smiled at the admiring crowd that had gathered nearby. "My friends," she began in a tired voice, "it has been a long day. Will you please accept my deepest thanks—and Mustafa's appreciation —for the patience you all have shown while you described Starfury's damage to me?" She shook her head and opened her hands. "Only when allowed to witness something like this firsthand," she said, "can one begin to comprehend the terrible power of the weapons you face—and understand the prodigious stature of your bravery. Every Fluvannian is deeply in your debt—and I perhaps most of all."

  As the ruined chamber echoed with applause and cheering, she took Brim's hand. "Now, my dear Captain," she whispered, "I should rather like to take you up on that offer of a 'highly restricted tour,' as I believe you put it. Do you suppose that might still be arranged?"

  Once more. Brim offered his arm. "I can think of nothing more important in the Universe," he said, looking into her great blue eyes.

  As they passed through the hatch, Raddisma turned to wave—and caused still another round of applause and cheering.

  Outside, Brim looked at her with real approbation. "You were a sensation," he said earnestly. "They loved you."

  With power shut off to most of the ship, the only lighting in the long corridor was provided by an occasional hovering battle lantern. She smiled as they walked slowly through the artificial twilight. "Thank you, Wilf," she said in her dusky voice. "I guess I love them, too." Then she winked and pulled his arm around her waist. "And speaking of love," she said, "is there much traffic along this corridor?"

  Brim looked around and smiled. "Not at this time of the night," he said, "especially with the power off the way it is."

  "Good," she said, stopping in the semidarkness between two of the dim battle lanterns. She turned to face him and slowly began to unfasten her cloak, "I've had a surprise waiting for you since we left the reception," she said as she pulled the garment completely open. "Do you like it?" she asked.

  Brim felt himself gasp. Beneath her cloak, the long-legged woman was stark naked. "Raddisma," he mumbled, "you are... magnificent!" She had small, youthfully upturned breasts with light-colored nipples that pouted from modest, knobby aureoles. Her waist was tiny, with only the merest swelling for a midriff. And as he had guessed, her legs were superb—all the way to her spike-heeled ankle boots! But what absolutely set him on his ear was her crotch. It was completely shaven, featureless except for its great dark cleft that looked all out of proportion without its customary thatch. He simply couldn't take his eyes from it.

  "You have never been with a shaved woman before?" she asked, opening her stance provocatively. "It is more or less a trademark with me."

  "Never," Brim said bemusedly, running his fingers gently over the smooth flesh. She must have had herself shaved during the reception, for his own chin had already grown more stubble since before their hospital visit.

  "Well?" she prompted. "What do you think of my little surprise?"

  "U-Universe," Brim stammered, urging her toward the next battle lantern. "Had I guessed what you had in store, I'd never have let you near the power chamber."

  She laughed, slipping the cloak off completely and handing it to him as she turned her back. "That's why it had to be a surprise, my lover to be," she called over her shoulder while she shook her buttocks. "I don't think you yet have any idea how much that little visit meant." Then she winked. "Enough talk," she said with a giggle. "Do you think I can make it all the way to your cabin wearing only my boots, or shall I put my cloak back on? I've enjoyed showing you what you want to see, but now I'm getting a little chilly—and more than a little anxious to discover what it is that makes such a protrusion in the front of your trousers."

  Brim grinned as he held the cloak for her to put on. "Much as I hate to cover all that female elegance," he said, "it will be only for a few moments while we cross some of the busier parts of the ship." He laughed ruefully. "And believe me, Raddisma, the sooner I can show you what it is that makes that, er, protrusion, the more comfortable I shall be."

  She squeezed his arm as they hurried along the corridor. "I'll bet I can show you what to do with that protrusion of yours that is a lot more comfortable than just letting me see it."

  "You can?" Brim asked in mock interest. "Really?"

  "Trust me," Raddisma laughed.

  He did.

  And so did she....

  * * *

  Brim awoke the next morning to a gentle tapping on the door to his cabin. "Yes?" he demanded as Raddisma sleepily drew him even closer to her perfumed warmth.

  "Cap'm," the deep voice of Barbousse intoned in a stage whisper from the corridor outside. "It'll be light in another metacycle an' a half, sir. I have one of our staff cars waitin' at the brow, and—beggin' both your pardons—but Petty Officer Tutti says that Madame Raddisma ought to be back aboard S.S. Andenez before the watch changes."

  Brim frowned. "Does that make sense to you?" he asked, looking into great, almond-shaped eyes—that were presently a little out of focus. "Do you know a Petty Officer Tutti
?"

  Raddisma grimaced and hugged him tighter. "We all have special people we can trust," she said sleepily. "Petty Officer Cosa Tutti—that absolutely stunning, red-haired chauffeur you couldn't help oogling—is also my personal Barbousse. I can trust her with anything, and she's quite correct. I need to be aboard Andenez before the watch changes."

  Brim nodded to out-of-focus eyes and grinned. "I understand, now," he said. Pushing himself up on his elbow, he turned toward the door. "Many thanks, Chief," he called out. "You may tell Ms. Tutti that we will be on our way in..." Suddenly Raddisma placed her hand over his mouth.

  "At the very most, it can take no more than ten cycles to drive between our two ships," she whispered. "And I for one have not had nearly enough of you to last until Lady Fortune once more sees fit for us to share a bed."

  Brim felt gentle fingers deftly exploring his crotch, and discovered that his own hand had become curved around a most intriguing, moist shape—one that was just now developing the merest beginnings of a rough stubble. "You're right, of course," he said, kissing her gently on the lips. "Chief," he called out, "we'll be ready for that staff car in about a metacycle—or so."

  "Aye, Cap'm," Barbousse acknowledged and Brim immediately found his mouth besieged by a great fusillade of wet kisses. Then before he could gain control of the situation, Raddisma silently rolled him onto his back and mounted his loins as if he were some sort of backward horse. Grinning as if she had just discovered something wonderfully new, she arched her back against his drawn-up knees, then threw her naked crotch forward, opening its great crevasse for his inspection with long, graceful fingers. Instantly he felt himself grow ready, and she sank back on him with a huge sigh, enveloping his whole existence in wet, swollen flesh. After that, he found it most difficult to keep track of time.

  * * *

  Brim and Barbousse returned Raddisma to her starship with only a few moments to spare, but it was enough. The Consort's alluring chauffeur met their staff car at the foot of the brow. The woman blew Barbousse a long, impassioned kiss—as if she and the Chief had become extremely close friends during the evening. Brim nodded with an inward smile as she bundled Raddisma up into the moving staircase and disappeared. "Looks as if you might have enjoyed a little relaxation yourself last evening, Chief," he said.

  Barbousse grinned—Brim knew he was blushing. "Aye, Cap'm," he admitted. "Lieutenant Tissaurd got us together by HoloPhone durin' the reception. Warned us we'd better be ready to coordinate things, an' I came straight over here to see her." He drove quietly for a moment, as if he were savoring his thoughts. "After that," he continued, "we just sort of got... well... friendly. An' after you two were squared away— beggin' the Cap'm's pardon, of course—why, she came over for her own visit to Starfury." He laughed quietly. "It was a beautiful evenin', it was," he said, "An' o' course, Ms. Tutti didn't have to waste a lot o' time schmoozin' with the folks in the power chamber...."

  Precisely two metacycles later, S.S. Andenez embarked Raddisma for home. Brim listened to the thunder of its passage from Starfury's damaged power chamber, and for a moment he lost his ability to concentrate on the distressing details of Chief Baranev's report. A certain portion of his anatomy had become quite tender during the evening; he wondered if hers was, too.

  * * *

  "You look awfully relaxed this evening, Skipper," Tissaurd observed over supper in the wardroom.

  Brim nodded. "I am," he said, "or, more correctly, I was, at any rate."

  "I don't understand," the tiny officer said with a frown.

  "Well," Brim said with a little smile, "let us say that Chief Baranev destroyed a great deal of last night's 'glow,' shall we say, with his cockeyed afternoon damage report," He shook his head as he sipped a third scalding mug of cvceese'. "I'm sure you know that Starfury's in a bad way."

  "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 Star-fury'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.