by Bill Baldwin
“I certainly am, Uncle,” Amherst replied, donning his own helmet. He turned to Brim. “Take care of things as well as you can without me, Brim,” he said.
Brim gritted his teeth. “I shall do that, Number One,” he said.
“Yes, I'm sure you will,” Shelgar said, pushing Amherst into the air lock before him. He winked at Brim as he stepped through himself. “I shall pass along that information we discussed,” he said. “And congratulations again.” Then he was gone.
Brim grinned while the remainder of the Truculents clambered through the air lock, ripping off their battle helmets and congratulating him for his promotion all at once. Scant clicks later, mooring beams to Defiance winked out and the big starship bore up for Avalon, disappearing in the blackness with an emerald glow that lingered for nearly a quarter of a metacycle before it faded away.
Miraculously, Ursis and Barbousse had procured large bottles of Logish meem — apparently from the emptiness of space itself. Brim laughed, basking in the warmth of their good wishes, happily clicking goblets with each in turn (first full and right side up, then empty and upside down). Inside, however, his glee stemmed from a different source altogether. He was going to Avalon — and Margot. Somehow, a mere promotion in grade paled in comparison!
With refueling stops, it took the Truculents nearly three Standard Days to nurse the crippled astroplane into native space, but at last E60T’s cracked and scarred Hyperscreens began to fill with the glittering star swarms that comprised the heart of the Home Galaxy. In due course, the mighty triad of Asterious blazed forth like a giant beacon suspended above the Universe, drenching all it contained with a glorious golden radiance. Soon, Brim could make out the three individual stars, tumbling within their virtual globe, each trapped within the others’ gravity bonds At last,, the five blue-green worlds hove into view : Proteus for science, Melia for commerce, Ariel for communications, Helios for shipping, and the colossal city-planet Avalon herself, throbbing epicenter of an empire that spanned the very galaxy and beyond.
Brim's orders specified signing the astroplane over to the scientific community on Proteus, and accordingly (on the third day of the voyage), he slowed to Hypospace, rounded the Vernal-204 space buoy, and set up his final approach to the gleaming planet of Imperial science. With the astroplane seemingly indestructible generators rumbling steadily in his ears, he was passed through to the military sector and entered the spaceport traffic pattern when the last flickers of reentry plasma cleared from his Hyperscreens. Below sprawled three circular clusters of buildings and laboratories known through the Empire as the source of nearly half the important military technology developed in the last hundred years.
He eased E607 into the downrange leg of the traffic pattern while Theada trimmed ship for a dry-land planetfall. As the Klaipper-Hisses began to spool up, a Military Harbor Master appeared in Brim's COMM display and cleared them on to the complex.
“All hands to stations for planetfall. All hands to stations for planetfall,” Theada announced on the ship's speakers.
Brim rolled left through an abbreviated base leg for immediate transition to final amid running footsteps and alarm buzzers as Barbousse and Ursis raced to their positions. When the ship righted, he lined up on one of the long Becton-type, gravity-cushion tubes (commonly used in place of water for hard-surface touchdowns), carefully pulled off more lift, and established a gentle glide angle, checking the nose in relation to the near end of the fast-approaching tube. Steady as a rock. He smiled. Couldn't mistake this for Haefdon — no wind!
He made one final power reduction directly over the green-flashing ALPHA beacon, then energized the lift modifiers, held his speed steady, and waited for the approach lights to loom up as he rumbled in over the end of the tube. E607 settled solidly onto the long gravity cushion as its shadow dashed in from alongside and became a blurred spot beside them on the right-of-way. When Brim sensed a definite hover, he dumped the modifiers and completed his roll-out with gravity brakes alone, generators rumbling at idle.
His instrument panel was already a satisfying mass of flowing colors and patterns by the time he taxied from the tube at the second turnoff — and amid wild cheering from his travel-weary crew, he finally parked the little ship at a special gravity pool near the military terminal. E607's first and only military mission was complete.
* * * *
“Text messages for you, Lieutenant Brim,” Barbousse announced suddenly from E607’s COMM cabinet, his voice nearly lost in the commotion of technicians clambering through the little ship from three separate brows. During the last Standard Week, all four Truculents had spent nearly every waking moment wringing out the little Leaguer astroplane for the Imperial Foreign Technology Service.
This latest mission had been the most demanding so far — and Brim, especially, looked forward to the three or four days’ of leave that had been promised. One way or another, he was determined to spend some time on Avalon. “What do they say?” he asked, busily shutting down the flight systems.
“Appear to be personal, sir,” Barbousse yelled. “You'll probably want to display them yourself, beggin' the Lieutenant's pardon, of course.”
“I see,” Brim said as he activated a COMM globe over his control panel. The short text message cascaded instantly across the display:
Wilf,
I am required to attend the Godille function as representative of my dominion. Shall I see you there? I believe the Admiralty has deprived you of any excuse to decline. (Regrets Only)
— Margot
Brim's heart raced as he read the first few words. Then he frowned. “Godille function?” “Admiralty?” He looked up just as Ursis switched over to external gravity, and almost fell out of his recliner. Swallowing hard, he wrested control of his heaving stomach, then turned to yell hotly at Barbousse. “Are you sure you got all of that?” he demanded. “It doesn't make any sense at all.”
“Which one, sir?” Barbousse asked solicitously. The big generators were spinning down now, and it was a little easier to talk.
“I only got one message,” Brim yelled, his voice now far too loud in the little control cabin. Everyone turned to stare at him — he felt his face flush.
“But which message, Lieutenant?” Barbousse asked again.
Brim gritted his teeth. Personal his foot! “The one from Margot,” he answered in capitulation.
“Oh,” Barbousse said with raised eyebrows. “That's the second one, Lieutenant. The first one must have got lost.”
“Thraggling WON-der-ful,” Brim fumed.
“I'll send it again,” Barbousse said.
Brim thumped back in his recliner, feeling a dozen pairs of eyes at his back. “Thanks,” he said, pulling in his neck. Then he swiveled rapidly to face his audience. Eight technicians were expectantly looking over his shoulder at the message globe. “As you were!” he thundered. They scattered to eight tasks elsewhere in the suddenly quiet control cabin. Then the first message cascaded across the globe:
TO: Wilf A. Brim, Lt., I.R. @ Proteus.991E
FROM: Lord Avingnon B. Wyrood @ Admiralty, Avalon City, Avalon/Asturius
Lieutenant Brim: Your attendance is hereby commanded at a court divertissement by His Majesty, Crown Prince Onrad in tribute to the Honorable Archduke of Godille.
12 Pentad, 51997:
Lordglen House of State: Twilight:0:00
Grand Boulevard of the Cosmos,Avalon
BY ORDER OF HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY GREYFFIN IV, GRAND GALACTIC EMPEROR, PRINCE OF THE REGGIO STAR CLUSTER, AND RIGHTFUL PROTECTOR OF THE HEAVENS.
(formal attire)
* * * *
Personal to Lt. Brim: Take the Morning:00:00 R-37 Shuttle to Imperial Terminal, Avalon. Transportation will be standing by at the Quentian Portal. A formal uniform awaits your arrival at the Lordglen House.
- A. K. Khios, Secretary to Lord Wyrood
That made some sense of things — at least as much sense as inviting a Carescrian to a court affair in the first place.
He laughed. Margot's work for a certainty. Well, if that was the requirement to see her now, then so be it! He'd faced up to some of the best the League could throw at him so far. Avalonian society couldn't be very much worse than that!
Later, on a tram from the landing field, Brim told the others about his invitation.
“The Lordglen House?” Theada exclaimed. “Universe, Wilf, that's one of the fanciest official palaces of all. How'd you get an invitation there when we stay at the Visitors' Quarters?”
“Friends in high places,” Brim laughed evasively, feeling color rise in his cheeks. “Besides, it's just until we ship out tomorrow night.”
Ursis laughed and clapped Brim on the shoulder. “I think perhaps you do have such friends, Wilf Ansor, but perhaps not whom you think.” He smiled. “I shall be most interested to discover who your sponsor really turns out to be.”
* * * *
Brim never found himself in Avalon's Grand Imperial Terminal without a total sense of architectural majesty. Taken altogether, the huge structure could only be described as incredible with its immense, cloud-filled ceiling, soaring hundreds of irals over a thousand crowded ramps and concourses that would among terraced gardens and colored lagoons. It was a fitting metaphor to represent the civilization that conceived and built it. Awesome — like the vast collection of worlds and stars it connected.
Making his way to the bustling Quentian Portal, Brim scanned dozens of curbside lanes for his transportation. A bus? A van? He idly noticed a huge chauffeured limousine skimmer thread its way carefully through the crowd and draw to a halt amid “oohs” and “ahs” from the street throng. He watched with interest as the chauffeur dismounted — somebody important was slated for that vehicle (or, he chuckled, a Bear on leave). He continued to scan the other lanes for his own ride.
“Lieutenant Brim?” a voice asked.
Brim turned in surprise to confront the chauffeur, who was small, dressed entirely in light gray, and appeared to be totally bald (bare scalp gleamed all around his peaked cap). “That's me,” he said doubtfully.
The man motioned toward the huge skimmer waiting at the curb, sleek, shining, and important. It looked for all the world like some great water creature poised for attack. “Your transportation to the Lordglen House, Lieutenant,” he said, a small blond mustache twitching as he spoke.
Brim felt his eyebrows raise. “That's for me?”
The chauffeur laughed. “All the way to Lordglen,” he said.
“You're sure I'm not supposed to drive you?” Brim joked as he strode toward the stately vehicle. “Looks big enough to take a Helmsman.”
“Only in traffic, Lieutenant,” the chauffeur retorted good-naturedly as he opened the door for Brim. “This time of the day, I can probably handle it myself.” Without another word, he climbed into the driver's compartment and the powerful skimmer glided out of the station.
Avalon City proper was laid out in a vast grid of forested parks and urban recumbence at the edge of huge, placid Lake Mersin, actually a sizable inland sea. The Grand Terminal was constructed on an artificial island and connected to the city proper via a wide causeway named for August Thackary Palidan, first starship commander to circumnavigate the galaxy.
Cruising the causeway at high speed, they soon swung onto tree-lined Verecker Boulevard and began to follow the shore. Brim looked out at magenta waves beyond the twisted kilgal trees as they swept past. The chauffeur was maneuvering through the heavy traffic with a light and skillful hand; Brim relaxed in the deep cushions of the seat, enjoying every bit of luxury he could absorb.
They breezed past a cool, mork-shaded park dotted with sparkling fountains full of splashing children. Brim reflected on how long it had been since he'd even seen a child and shook his head. Before he reported to Gimmas/Haefdon, he guessed. War and children didn't mix so very well, as he so sadly knew.
Traffic was heavier as they neared the inner metropolis, and the closer they came, the more the lanes in both directions contained limousine skimmers similar to the one in which he rode, many decorated with embassy crests. One great black machine from the Bright Triad at Ely pulled opposite them in an adjoining lane just as its emergency beacon came on, flashing frantic red, white, and orange in an eye-startling, random sequence. The shining vehicle accelerated quickly, skillfully dodging other traffic and rapidly disappeared in the distance.
To the right, they passed the shimmering Desterro Monument with its colossal spiral of sculpted flame commemorating discovery of the Cold Tetrad of Edrington, center of a gravity drift that collected space debris and invaluable historic artifacts from a million years of space travel. A traditional Mecca for peacetime tourists, the monument was presently overrun by hundreds of gawking cadets and Blue Capes from all over the Empire. Brim smiled. As a cadet, he'd visited more than once himself.
In a matter of cycles, they were gliding over the first great ruby arch crossing the Grand Achtite Canal, each end of the wide, translucid span guarded by immense crystal warriors gazing at the same section of the sky (as indeed their sculptor had determined they would). Brim recalled a tour guide once pointing out that three similar bridges crossed the canal far downstream at regular intervals, each guarded by the same crystal statues that stared eternally at the same section of the sky: the Achtite Cluster. To the left of the bridge apron, Brim's eye caught the great domed tower of Marva thrusting silver and gold above the skyline with its fluted sides and curious winding concourse that spiraled all the way to the dome like a sparkling vine. Old Queen Adrien herself once lived and studied there before she set off in her little Durax III to discover Porth Grassmere on the far side of Elath. It was a place all Imperial Helmsmen knew — and appreciated.
Farther along, they passed Avalon's famous Kimber Castle, where Cago JaHall composed Solemn Universe and other classics of the same idiom. In later years, Dalgo Hildi had also lived there, but by the time she finally arrived in Avalon, her active career was nearly over. The graceful old building was presently fronted by crystal scaffolding, and workers appeared to be treating its carved metal facade.
While they continued on into the historic Beardmore sector, Brim noted heavy construction wherever he looked. New buildings were going up on nearly every block. Older structures were being rebuilt, scaffolding and cranes everywhere. A good sign, he considered. Avalon was beginning to recover from the initial shock of the war, looking toward the future again, and perceiving the first glimmerings of possible victory.
He sat back, breathed deeply, and sank deeper into the luxuriously padded seat, feeling the smooth power of the skimmer and the skill of its driver. As they swung through the spacious Courtland Plaza with its famous three-tiered Savoin gravity fountain and onyx reflecting pool, the Imperial Palace momentarily came into view across an expanse of carefully tended gardens and manicured forests. Huntingdon Gate was its usual confused mass of traffic (reputed challenge even to Avalon's finest chauffeurs). Then the view was obstructed by the squat, glass-walled Estorial Library, where Hobina Kopp first presented her Korsten Manifesto a full two hundred years prior to Brim's birth. The library had a special poetry section, which he promised he would one day peruse at his leisure — but as usual, not this trip!
At last, Brim's limousine swung onto the long, park-lined Boulevard of the Cosmos and began to slow. Moments later, it stopped gently in a curving driveway before a gracefully understated jade-stone portico: the sprawling Lordglen House of State. It was still early in the day, and the spacious receiving plaza was empty, but Brim could imagine what it would be like later when the guests began to arrive.
A white-gloved footman in a bright red coat and white breeches saluted and opened the door for him. “Lieutenant Brim, sir? Right this way, please,” he said with a smile that instantly dissipated the awesome personality of the building itself. Brim rapped “thanks” on the glass separating the passenger and driver compartments, then followed the footman through an imposing two-story doorway. Inside, they crossed a wide entry hall
, boots clicking on the flawless obsidian floor. Above, an enormous gold and crystal chandelier reflected light from thousands of polished facets, and at the far end of the room, twin alabaster staircases curved upward to an ornate balcony jutting gracefully above an elaborately carved archway whose polished ebony doors were presently closed.
The footman led Brim up the left-hand stairway and through a carved-gold arch into a short hallway whose domed ceiling depicted allegorical scenes painted in an old-fashioned and elegant style. Midway along the left-hand wall, they entered a lift to the fifth floor, where Brim was presented a large golden key and shown into an elegant suite furnished with exquisite period furniture and decorated by a collection of artifacts that, even to an untrained eye, were clearly worth the price of a large starship.
“Welcome to Lordglen House, Lieutenant,” the footman said as he opened the heavy drapes. “Lord Wyrood has instructed me to attend to all your needs. I have placed a complete formal uniform in the closet to your right, and attempted to provide other, more basic necessities — which you will encounter in the usual places.” He bowed. “Should you find I have missed items here and there,” he added, “you have only to ring. My name is Keppler; I shall be at your service promptly.” With this, he bowed again and exited the room backward, closing the double door quietly behind him.
Brim shook his head as he looked about the tastefully ornate room, a long way from Carescria, this! He peered through the window into a courtyard of perfectly shaped flowering panthon trees whose glowing fruits made the quadrangle look like a miniature Universe of starry galaxies when viewed against the dark paving stones. A stately fountain danced placidly at its center. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment; this level of wealth transcended his understanding completely. He shrugged. None of it had much importance to him anyway. The only reality here was Margot. Once she arrived, everything else would fade to nothing.