by Bill Baldwin
When conversation eventually resumed—with the third round of cvceese'—Brim learned that Tor had ordered out maintenance crews from both the Calshot Station and Enterprise long before dawn. The huge salvage vessel was now hovering no more than ten irals from Starfury's side, using her own mighty levitating systems instead of a gravity pool. Moreover, huge cranes had already raised the damaged cruiser nearly twelve irals without disturbing anyone aboard. Even as the four officers sipped cvceese' and talked, massive new power chambers rumbled across a temporary bridge between the two hulls, and replacement hullmetal plates were taking shape on glowing collapsium forges deep within the big ship's hold.
"What I don't understand," Brim commented at length, "is how you managed to bring Enterprise here in the first place. Especially with an escort of four Starfuries. Since the CIGAs first got wind of the operation, I haven't been able to get help—anywhere."
Tor smiled. "That's probably the reason I'm here, then," he said with a cryptic little smile. "I'm from nowhere." He joined the tips of his fingers and appeared to be deep in thought for a few moments. "What I am about to tell you," he said presently, "has been such a carefully guarded secret that even you, Wilf Brim, were kept in the dark about it. They sent you—and you, Lieutenant Tissaurd—off to too many places where you might fall into League hands." He frowned. "With the near-term resumption of hostilities, however," he continued, "the secret of Gimmas Haefdon will be revealed soon enough. So it is time both of you know the whole story."
Tissaurd smiled and nodded her head. "I thought something was strange about the 'closed-down' status of that planet every time we flew anywhere near the surface. Those big reactors were always active—everywhere. If the place had really been shut down, they would all have been cold."
"You were—and are—correct, Lieutenant," Tor said. "But the power was continuously in use."
"By whom?" Brim asked, frowning.
"Well," Tor said, "by the people who fabricated Starfury's new space radiators, for example."
Brim felt his face flush in embarrassment "Of course," he said, snapping his fingers. "I thought at the time that you people had pulled off true magic fabricating that in Enterprise."
Tor smiled. "Enterprise's crews are good," he said. "But even they can't work the kind of miracles something like that would have required." He sat back while the Steward filled his mug with more cvceese', then nodded, as if he had just made up his mind about something. "So far as the CIGAs are concerned," he began at length, "Gimmas Haefdon was closed down more than ten Standard Years ago—except for small-scale maintenance operations and some 'nonessential research.' " His eyes lit up with humor for a moment. "We were careful to make certain that Amherst and his coterie of traitors remained convinced that they made Gimmas into a certifiable nowhere. But shortly after its so-called closing, a number of colleagues and myself pulled certain strings to become that 'small-scale maintenance crew' and began turning the base into one of five covert somewheres that may yet help to save the Empire from its CIGA cancer."
"What you do there can be that critical?" Tissaurd asked.
"Well," Tor replied with a smile, "I'm not authorized to talk about everything, but we certainly build Starfuries at Gimmas. The four new ships that escorted Enterprise were built there—they completed their deep-space trials just before we departed for Fluvanna. And," he continued, cleaning his spectacles with a huge white handkerchief, "if you have not already guessed, all four ships are here at the direct orders of Prince Onrad."
"Universe," Tissaurd whispered. "Prince Onrad?"
"He and General Drummond have been keeping close tabs on the situation here in Fluvanna," Tor said. "They waited as long as they could before playing their hand, but with the appearance of the new Gorn-Hoffs, it quickly became clear that Baxter Calhoun would soon need heavy maintenance support. There are five more Enterprise-class salvage and repair ships under construction, but they're far from complete. We were the only game in town, so to speak."
"Enterprise is one miraculous game," Brim said appreciatively. "But they certainly did wait until the last possible cycle to send her. If she hadn't already been on your way, Starfury would have been out of action for weeks!"
"I know," Tor said sympathetically. "I'm empowered to apologize for both the Prince and General Drummond."
"Doesn't really matter now," Brim allowed pragmatically. " 'All's well that ends well,' as somebody once observed."
"Actually," Tor said, "it really doesn't end, so to speak."
"I don't understand," Brim said.
"Well," Tor said, "only one of the Starfuries will depart when we've finished here. The other three—along with Refit Enterprise will be based at Varnholm Hall. Permanently—or as long as the IVG exists."
"Universe!" Brim exclaimed. "Now that's what I call help!" He grinned. "And we can certainly use three more Starfuries, even with rookie crews."
"Hmm," Tor said with a frown. "There, you're in for a bit of a disappointment.''
"Why?" Brim demanded.
"It has to do with the Imperial comets they have abaft their bridges," Tor explained with a grimace, "like the ones Enterprise wears. They are all ships of the Imperial Fleet—and the Empire isn't just now at war with the League." He peered over his glasses apologetically. "It's only a technicality, of course. But unfortunately...."
"I remember Calhoun telling me about it, now," Brim said, shaking his head in frustration. "So the Starfuries are here to protect Enterprise, eh?"
"I'm afraid that's about it—at least until the Emperor can get around the CIGAs in the General Parliament and declare war."
Brim nodded and grinned. "As they put things in Sodeskaya," he said, "it's a lot better than a poke in the eye with a sharp icicle."
Tor nodded sober agreement. "It certainly seems to be that," he observed.
Tissaurd nodded. "And getting back to Gimmas Haefdon for a moment, Commodore," she said, "unless I miss my guess, you're not just building Starfuries there, are you? I'll bet you're working on that stripped-down, killer-ship version of Starfury people have been whispering about!" She grinned and fixed him with one of her gazes. "I always wondered what somebody like Mark Valerian was doing there just for Starfury's deep-space acceptance trials. He already knew the ship would pass with flying colors."
Tor's face colored and he smiled. "Probably, we ought to discuss killer-ships at a more appropriate time, Lieutenant," he demurred. "But, as I said, we, ah, do keep busy out there...." At that moment, a singularly piercing thud sounded from deep within the hull. Tor's eyebrows shot up with real concern. "I think I'm probably needed down there," he said, pushing back his chair, then he stopped and held up his index finger. "Captain Brim," he said, "would it be possible to ask a favor of you and your ship?"
"We are at your service, Commodore," Brim replied.
"Good," the Commodore replied, "Then have your wardroom cook send over the recipe for those, er, 'battercakes' you fed me this morning and I shall be forever in your debt."
"I'll do it debt free. Commodore," Brim promised.
"Good," Tor said, "and I shall expect both of you in Enterprise's wardroom this evening," he said. "Evening and one on the dot."
"We'll be there, Commodore," Brim promised. "Could I bring a few bottles of Logish Meem with me?"
"Could you?" Tor asked in astonishment. "But of course, Brim," he said. "You didn't think I'd let you in without them, did you?"
"Well," Brim countered, "under normal circumstances, I'd probably admit that you had me over a barrel, Commodore."
"Well, I do, don't I?" Tor demanded.
"Oh, absolutely, Commodore," Brim answered, "unless you decide that you also want a recipe for the syrup that goes with the battercakes."
Tor looked stunned. "Captain Brim," he groaned in dismay, "do you mean to tell me that the syrup recipe isn't included with the one for the battercakes?"
"No, sir," Brim said. "It's an all-purpose syrup."
"I see," Tor said, frown
ing as if he were considering some complex engineering problem. "On the other hand," he added, "the cakes themselves are delicious. There's no getting around that. So you'd better bring the meem and the syrup recipe—just to be sure. You never know how the rest of my day will go." Then, with a grin, he disappeared through the hatch.
* * *
Next morning, a gravely hung-over W. A. Brim, Commander, R.F.F., and Captain of the Fluvannian cruiser R.F.F. Starfury, unabashedly pulled rank by placing an equally hung-over Nadia Tissaurd, Lt. Commander, R.F.F., in temporary charge of all ship's operations. He then staggered directly to his cabin and slept for nearly a full Standard Day. Privilege, he observed to the outraged Tissaurd, is an insidious endemic—but it is rarely a mortal malady....
Chapter 10
Zonga'ar
Starfury was out of action for nearly seven Standard Days. Immediately afterward, however, Brim found himself back in furious—and deadly—combat with what seemed like the total combined fleets of Nergol Triannic and Rogan LaKarn. Though Commodore Tor's Refit Enterprise kept a significantly larger percentage of Calhoun's little fleet operational, the ever-increasing pace of battle was beginning to make itself felt—and within a month, they lost their first two Starfuries: I.F.S. Starwarrior and I.F.S. Stargallant. Thereafter, as shrewd Avalonian CIGAs in the General Parliament stretched out Fluvannian Defense Treaty deliberations, IVG conditions inevitably began to deteriorate. And though the ex-Imperials destroyed nearly fifteen Leaguer warships for each Starfury demolished, it didn't take a Drive scientist to understand they couldn't sustain that kind of pace forever—even with Commodore Tor accomplishing feats of maintenance wizardry every metacycle (on the metacycle) or courageous AkroKahn captains running spare parts through the Leaguer blockade in their unarmed civilian transport ships.
Replacements for IVG combat casualties, however, were in far shorter supply. Only a trickle of volunteers arrived from Avalon, and many of them had to be smuggled past zealous CIGAs who had infiltrated the Imperial Customs Service. As Brim's first anniversary in the IVG arrived, he and the other captains found themselves flying with reduced crews as a matter of course while the enemy fleets were clearly growing both in strength and experience. And although they vowed to fight until the last Starfury would no longer lift, that day was clearly on the time horizon, and approaching rapidly.
On the morning after R.F.S. Starviper was lost with all hands, Calhoun KA'PPAed an order for Brim and Moulding to report to his office the moment they made landfall. Brim was last in, and arrived from the gravity pool complex at a run. As he hurried through the door, he noticed a tall, grave-looking Bear in earnest conversation with Calhoun, Moulding, Ursis, and Ambassador Beyazh. Wearing a monocle fastened to a delicate gold chain, the Sodeskayan was dressed as a General-Mayor with sky-blue embellishments of the Intelligence Corps. Brim didn't know him, but Ursis and Beyazh clearly did.
"General Probyeda," the Bear said soberly in Avalonian, "is now meeting old friend and shipmate Commander Wilf Ansor Brim, Captain of Starfury."
Probyeda turned and extended his hand. "I have heard much that recommends you, Wilf Ansorovich," he said, "both from fryend Nikolai Yanuarievich and Grand Duke Anastas Alexi Borodov."
"General Probyeda," Brim said in surprise. "I am honored to meet you." His words were no empty courtesy. During the last war, Probyeda had distinguished himself in a number of daring covert missions, some of which had never been declassified. And he was also an old friend of the Empire; it was through his offices that the prototype Gorn-Hoff P.1065 had been discovered—and its data released to Drummond.
The Bear smiled and peered through his monocle. "When you and Commander Moulding hear information I bring," he said soberly, "you may revise opinion."
Calhoun placed his hand on the Bear's shoulder board. "General Probyeda isn't makin' small talk, gentlemen," he said, indicating six chairs that had been drawn up around a large globular projector in a corner of the office. "If you'll take seats aboot yon projector, we'll gat this meetin' under way directly."
Moulding grinned at Brim as he slid into an adjoining chair and rolled his eyes to the heavens. "Sounds as if they're planning to make us work for a living," he whispered.
Brim shrugged. "Well," he muttered, "this Fluvannian vacation of ours could get to be sort of boring, after a while,"
Calhoun got to the point with no preamble whatsoever. "Tis high time, "he began, "that we take on the League's xaxtdamme space fortification immediately; they're beginnin' to hurt us bad. In addition to basin' their Gorn-Hoffs and Dampiers there, the zukeed space weasels have been stockpilin' ground supplies an' troops as well. An' noo it appears their invasion plans for Fluvanna are almost complete, so we hae little choice—Queen Elidean or nae." He paused. "We'll be doin' the mission in consort wi' units o' the Fluvannian Fleet, thanks to Ambassador Beyazh, who flew in a month ago from Avalon an' has worked miracles to coordinate things between the two governments."
Beyazh looked at Brim and Moulding. "My take is that the real miracles have been accomplished by these two gentlemen and their colleagues in the Starfuries," he said.
Calhoun pursed his lips. " They may need a few mair miracles afore you're finished dealin' wi' the fort," he continued, "'cause unfortunately the Leaguers hae gone aboot fortify in' the place beyond all measure." He nodded to Probyeda. "That's wha' the General's here to tell you about, so I'll ask him to start wi' his part o' the briefin'."
Probyeda also wasted no time getting to his point. "Gentlemen," he said, "we Sodeskayans have studied Leaguer fortifications for number of years now, ever since they began building fortified networks. However," he added meaningfully, "they have been unusually careful with this one, going so far as to construct from outside in to preserve secrecy. Because of this, we know relatively little about interior layout, although we have considerable information concerning exterior features and armament." He touched a switch and a three-dimensional image of the Zonga'ar shoal itself materialized above the projector. Small as asteroid collections went, it was named for an enormous old starship, S.S. Zonga'ar, that came to ruin against the mass of rocks more than a thousand Standard Years in the past. The longish formation extended no more than eight hundred c'lenyts from tip to tip at the outside and was accumulated—as well as shaped—by the accretion beam of a neighboring space hole. Over the aeons, it had taken the slightly curved shape of a scythe blade, with a roughly triangular cross section that was perhaps ten c'lenyts on a side. The same accretion beam that amassed and shaped it also formed a wide, fast-flowing gravity ribbon that swept past its concave ends like a river. And it was between the accretion beam and the center of the scythe that the Leaguers had built their fortification, positioned near a huge glowing asteroid called Cendar and shielded from the beam itself by the shoal's slightly protruding ends. The same beam, however, also protected the fort from frontal attack. The very act of crossing its treacherous graviton flow made such an assault highly difficult as well as dangerous, even without considering the fort's huge battery of disruptors.
As Probyeda focused his projector on the fort itself, he described great disrupter batteries, armored flanks, and nearly limitless energy supplies—along with rows and rows of parked Dampiers and Gorn-Hoffs, the ones that the IVG had been fighting since the outbreak of war. Before he was finished, the General described one of the most brilliantly conceived fortifications Brim had ever encountered.
"Shaping up to be some vacation, eh, Wilf?" Moulding muttered.
"Yeah," Brim agreed under his breath. "You'll be sure to let me know when we start having fun."
Calhoun overheard them and laughed. "I've taken personal steps to bring a little mair firepower to bear for the mission," he said, "but it may arrive a wee late—or not at alt. An' dis-fortunately, we've already put off the raid too lang. They're damme near too strong to deal with right noo." He glanced at Beyazh. "That's where the Ambassador and his Fluvannian Fleet come into the picture. They'll try to draw off the Gorn-Hoffs and D
ampiers while we go after the primary target." With that, he and Beyazh launched into a description of a bold and ingenious scheme that left the others in the room nodding with admiration.
Brim was to take command of the eight remaining IVG Star-furies, which he would lead as a unit code-named CLEAVE. His ships would operate in conjunction with units of the Fluvannian Fleet, ostensibly speeding off to intercept a brace of Leaguer supply convoys that were known to be on the way with more ground troops and invasion supplies. At the same time, a second squadron, consisting wholly of ancient Fluvannian warships—Force SMASH—would deploy toward the space fort itself, clearly a suicidal mission against such a target. The key to the operation, however, lay in purposely leaking these plans to the Leaguers—while omitting one small, but significant, detail.
Success depended heavily upon two essential elements: the Leaguers' natural disdain for all but the most up-to-date military equipment and the colossal emptiness of intragalactic space itself. If everything went according to plan, the entire fleet of Dampiers and Gorn-Hoffs would light out after the Starfuries in CLEAVE, ceding the ancient Fluvannian ships of SMASH to the CIGAs in their Imperial battleship—and the powerful disrupters of the fort itself. Less than a cycle into the CLEAVE sortie, however, Brim and his Starfuries would secretly depart from their elderly Fluvannian consorts. Firing off their reflecting Drives, they would sprint through the trackless void on a direct course to the fort, thereby arriving in place of the Fluvannian antiques with weaponry all out of proportion to what the defenders had been led to expect. By the time IVG's ruse was discovered, it would be far too late to send reinforcements.
As the Commodore readily admitted, his strategy wasn't perfect—but it was a plan in being. And something had to be done right away if they were to have any chance of averting disaster.
