by Bill Baldwin
"Number One," Brim asked, "can you take over the helm for a moment? She'll be a bit sluggish."
"I'm all right, Captain," the plucky little officer replied. "You didn't know I have a hullmetal cranium, did you?"
"I've suspected something like that for a long time," Brim said, "but I never thought I'd live to hear you admit it." As the ship began to gather way, he activated the blower. "Attention all hands," he broadcast. "Remain at your action stations. I repeat: remain at your action stations. Six unknowns are approaching at high speed, and we will probably have to defend the ship again." He closed his eyes for a moment. "I realize what each of you has been through since we lifted ship yesterday," he continued. "I also am tired, believe me. But we must carry on, no matter what. We're all integral parts of this ship, vitally needed for both flying and fighting—even existence. This mission is not over until I signal 'Finished with generators.' Be alert and prepare to engage.'' With that, he reclaimed the controls from Tissaurd and waited for whatever destiny Lady Fate had in store. Starfury was hurt badly, that was certain. The ship lumbered along, accelerating and decelerating with difficulty, and all he could do was coax the controls.
"Dampiers at Orange Apex," Meesha warned suddenly. "Bearing nine fifty-nine point five at forty-eight seventy-five and closing."
Brim peered up to the left of the nose. Six graviton plumes were coming on fast, vanguard of whole squadrons racing back to avenge the ruined fort. There would be no mercy, especially since Starfury was in no condition for an all-out fight. He shook his head angrily. At least he would give the order to attack. "Meesha," he said, "make certain we fire the first shots. We've got a little range on them."
"Aye, Captain," Meesha replied grimly, his gray eyes flashing with determination.
Brim called up all the thrust the badly damaged starship could muster. It hardly made any difference; she was still very slow and unresponsive. He watched the graviton plumes curve toward him in twos. Grinding his teeth with frustration, he could imagine Valentin gloating in one of them.
True to his promise, Meesha's big 406-mmi disrupters spoke first, and with remarkable accuracy. The leading left-hand Dampier erupted in a flashing cloud of flame, then went guttering off to one side while the remaining five continued their run-in. And suddenly space was again filled by concussion and blinding flashes of light—all the more felt on the bridge through the missing Hyperscreens. Brim jinked as much as he possibly could with the weak generators, but great hammer-blasts of concussion began to thunder against the hull as the Toronder's shots converged from all sides. Then—in rapid succession—Starfury took a near miss beside the starboard pontoon and a direct hit in the starboard generator bay, rattling and vibrating her spaceframe like a child's toy. Immediately, the ship lost the power to accelerate and a Dampier arrogantly pulled in on her tail, firing slowly as if it had all the time in the Universe, obviously operating on the assumption that Starfury had lost all her power. Moments later the mistake cost them dearly when Brim stopped jinking for a moment. Meesha's ten surviving turrets all whirled aft and simultaneously delivered a tremendous salvo from twenty 406s. The bridge suddenly broke out in cheering as the Dampier shuddered aside with its whole forward area reduced to a tangle of burning girders and crumpled hullmetal armor. But it was quickly replaced by two more, both unquestionably determined to make short work of their nettlesome enemy before it could use its teeth again.
With a last burst of power, Brim pulled the crippled starship into a vertical right angle and activated his gravity brakes.
The clearly untried Dampier crews hadn't expected anything like it, for they shot past like meteors and ended up out in front. Both tail sections flared up as their startled Helmsmen tried to escape from the trap, but they were far too late. Once more, Meesha's gunners swung their turrets, this time blasting both ships, which wobbled out of range trailing hullmetal plates and pulsing clouds of sparks.
"Three more unidentifieds approaching at high speed, Captain," the Gunnery Officer reported tensely.
"What kind of IFF are they sending?" Brim asked warily.
"Can't tell, this time," Meesha replied with a raised eyebrow. "Almost like the old privateer IDs I used to hear."
Brim nodded helplessly and found himself chuckling in what were probably the last moments of his life. "This is so xaxtdamned WON-der-ful I can't believe it," he growled to Tissaurd, "Now, we've got thraggling pirates after us." Far in the distance, he could see three more graviton plumes, and these were realty moving fast. He laughed in spite of himself. "Well, the zukeeds better damn well hurry," he grumbled darkly, "otherwise there won't be anything left of us to steal."
Aft, the two remaining Dampiers had warily closed in just beyond the range of Starfury's disruptors. Brim watched in his aft-view display while the ships maneuvered carefully into formation for a textbook torpedo attack. Obviously, these also were crewed by rookies, like the first three so easily put out of action. This time, however, it looked as if the rookies were about to...
"Great thraggting Universe!" he gasped with astonishment.
Before his very eyes, one of the remaining Dampiers disintegrated in a blinding explosion, while the other skidded to starboard and lit out with all its generators at maximum military overload. Its sparkling wake was dogged by a large, curious-looking torpedo that crept inexorably closer until, with a terrible eruption, it found its target.
As the unfortunate Dampier dissolved into roiling clouds of energy, a rating from the COMM center interrupted Brim's bemused astonishment. "Incoming transmission for you, Captain," she announced with eyes wide as saucers, "from I.F.S. Patriot. Will you take it?"
Brim glanced through the shattered port Hyperscreens as Calhoun's iridescent white star yacht eased into formation off his port pontoon. This time, however, the Imperial comet insignia shone abaft her bridge Hyperscreens—and she was armed with at least ten of the Leaguers' superfocused 375-mmi disrupters from Theobold Interspace of Lixor. Two identical copies of the powerful little attack ship cruised in perfect echelon to her left. As he stared in fascination, the elegant head and shoulders of Eve Carrier materialized in a global display on his console. This time, however, she was dressed in a regulation Imperial Fleet Cloak, "I'll take it," he croaked before the COMM room could announce her. Moments later a green link enabled indicator came on beneath the display.
"Captain Brim," the woman said with clearly genuine concern, "thank the Universe we got here in time. You are all right, are you na?"
Brim grinned in spite of everything. The woman was proud of the same Carescrian accent he had worked so hard to lose! "What's left of me seems to be all right," he replied with a dizzy grin. "And when did you join the Fleet?"
Carrier winked. "Emperor Greyffin IV issued our commissions nearly three months ago, Captain," she said, "the very day the Governor... er, Commodore Calhoun... presented all three o'his ships to the Admiralty." She smiled proudly. " 'Twas the same day I took over Patriot as Skipper." Then her face became sober. "Er, Captain," she started with a look of concern, "is Starfury in any shape to fly? From what we're pullin' in on the KA'PPA, just aboot every Leaguer and Toronder ship in the area is headin' this way. We'll have to get you people out o' here in the next metacycle, wi' or wi'out Starfury, I'm afraid."
"We're running a damage check right now," Brim replied, glancing at Tissaurd. "Better see if you can get an early report from Chief Baranev, Number One," he said with a sinking heart. He had to make some sort of effort for Margot. He simply couldn't just leave—she'd risked her life to help him nail the fort. Indeed, she may have given it.
"I'm saddened we didna' arrive sooner, sir," Carrier said, .interrupting his thoughts. "The Governor and General Drummond got us released just six days ago—just as soon as they decided on the declaration. But we were in Avalon at the time, an' hae a wee tiff wi' a crowd o' CIGAs on our way to the ships." She shook her head sadly. "Made us mair than a day late gettin' started."
"All that matters is that
you did get here," Brim said with real feeling. "As you could see, we were pretty close to the end." He was about to suggest they search for Margot's lifeglobe when he frowned, remembering a word.... "Did you say something about a declaration?" he asked.
"Aye, Captain Brim," Eve replied. "You've heard aboot it, haven't you, sir?" Cartier asked.
"I haven't heard anything since we lost our KA'PPA mast early on," Brim replied. "What kind o'... er... of declaration?"
"A declaration o' war, sir," Cartier replied with a sober mien. "Avalon KA'PPAed it all over the Universe."
"Great thraggling Universe, Eve," Brim exclaimed. "WHAT war? When?"
"The one we declared on the League and its allies this mornin', sir," Cartier explained, looking a bit taken aback. "By Imperial Privilege, noo less. It all happened very quickly—lots o'KA'PPA traffic—probably right aboot the time you lost your K-tower, I imagine."
Embarrassed, Brim pulled in his horns. "Sorry, Eve," he said. "And you don't have to call me 'sir,' you know. We're both Commanders, after all."
"Na anymore, Captain Brim," Cartier said with a little grin. "You've been promoted. Scuttlebutt has it that your certificate was the first thing Emperor Onrad signed after the declaration."
Brim's mind took off spinning again. "Emperor Onrad?" he demanded. "What's happened to Greyffin IV?"
"Abdicated, Captain," Cartier explained. "He said he'd already led the Empire through ane war, an' that was enough. It was time for a younger mon to step in. Oh, Greyffin's still around from wha' I gather, but this war's Onrad's show to run."
Stunned, Brim shook his head while he stared out into the starry void, trying to corral his milling thoughts into some—any—aspect of rational order.
Mercifully, Cartier gave him time to recover, for the next voice that impinged on his conscious mind was Tissaurd's.
"Good news, Skipper," she said, touching his gloved hand gently. "Chief Baranev says he can give us half power to the gravs within three quarters of a metacycle."
Brim felt like someone waking from a deep sleep, but he came out of it alert as if he had slept the clock around. "That's enough power to get us near LightSpeed and start the Drive, " he replied, "even though it'll take us a while to accelerate." Then he frowned. "Assuming the Drive is all right," he added quickly.
''Hardly damaged," Tissaurd assured him, "We weren't using it at the time, so the Chief had only warm-up power to the crystals when we hit overload."
Brim turned to face the display. "Did you hear all that, Eve?" he asked.
"Aye, Captain," Cartier said, "an' 'tis good news, too. 'Twould be a shame to lose Starfury—she's the first of the few." She glanced across at the other two attack craft. "We'll stand guard here till you're ready to fly, then escort you back to... where is it that the Governor has himself set up, noo, Captain?"
"Varnholm Hall," Brim said, "but I've an important favor to ask of you in the meantime."
"An' what's that, Captain?"
Brim explained as quickly as he could Margot's role in the destruction of the fort, then peered into the display in an attempt to touch the Carescrian woman's soul. "Eve," he said, "I need all three of you searching that area in case either of the lifeglobes survived. I need you there for as long as you can stay,"
Cartier nodded. "I understand, Captain," she said directly. "An' in many ways I agree. But twa of us must stay here wi' you. After all the driftin' and runnin' you did, you've come a far piece from the fort. An' if worst comes to worst, one of us can take your crew aboard for the dash home while the other fights."
Brim nodded. "You're right," he admitted grimly. His—and their—first responsibility was toward Starfury and her crew. Calhoun would have things no other way. "Thanks," he added. He meant it, even though it made him no happier.
"If it's any comfort, Captain," Cartier said quietly, "I know this is very important to you, so I'll go do the searchin' myself in Patriot. Loyalist an' Champion will stand guard just in case. Trust me to do what I can in the time I've got."
Brim smiled while in the corner of his eye he saw Tissaurd nodding vigorously. "Do it, Eve," he said thankfully. "When those globes launched, they headed straight for the shoal, so you'll have no trouble finding where to search. You'll find a big impress behind where the fort used to be. If anybody's able to answer your calls, they'll be somewhere nearby."
* * *
In the end, Cartier found nothing. Somehow, Brim wasn't surprised—but he was still grateful she looked.
* * *
Starfury required three Standard Days on her return from Ordu. But significantly, the little squadron encountered no enemy starships at all during the long trip, in spite of massive Gorn-Hoff and Dampier concentrations that had to be drawn from the same sector of the galaxy only days previously. The Leaguer ships simply had not returned. By the time Starfury was again safely moored at Varnholm—beside Moulding's Starglory and MacAlda's Starspite (both of which had limped home with serious damage)—Cartier and her two consorts were on their way at high speed to another part of the galaxy. With the destruction of Zonga'ar, a sea change had begun to take place in the conflict. The Leaguers appeared to be abandoning the whole Fluvannian campaign, and it was increasingly clear that Triannic's planned invasion had been seriously delayed, perhaps even canceled.
As things turned out, however, the so-called IVG "victory" had been a costly one indeed. Only a few of the brave Fluvannians from Task Force CLEAVE ever managed to return their antique warships home safely. And without the four new Imperial Starfuries (that were finally released for unrestricted combat duty at Varnholm Hall), the IVG would no longer be able to put up a practical defense—at least until Commodore Tor restored a number of the original Starfuries to battleworthiness.
The situation could have become a disaster; miraculously, it didn't turn out that way. Even though media reports from Avalon indicated that CIGAs throughout the Empire were mounting a great hue and cry over Onrad's declaration of war—as well as his accession to the Imperial throne—those same CIGA protesters were repeatedly being shouted down by loyal Imperials in the Fleet who had been goaded far past fearing for their careers. Now, it was their own Empire they were worried about!
And little by little the once-proud Imperial Fleet was throwing off its shackles. Clearly, it would be only a shadow of its former potential. But fortified by powerful squadrons of Starfuries that continued to soar out from secret yards at Gimmas Haefdon and other secret construction sites, the Imperials were gaining strength every day.
However, one element that remained missing from the insane equation was the Leaguers themselves. It was almost as if the loss of their fort at Zonga'ar caused them to abandon the war altogether. For some reason, they now seemed unwilling, or unprepared, to attack—anywhere. Sodeskayan intelligence promptly reported that this was indeed the case. The Leaguers had been preparing a grand offensive against Avalon itself, and after the grave losses they sustained during their ill-fated Fluvannian campaign, they now required at least three more Standard Months to recoup before they were again ready to attack.
Thanks to Baxter Calhoun and his gallant IVG "mercenaries," Nergol Triannic and his bloody minions had failed to deprive the rejuvenating Imperial Fleet of its precious Drive-crystal supply. But nearly as important, at least the way Brim saw things, was the inability of the CIGAs to keep things tied up in Avalon. Clearly, they had caused a great deal of mischief, but in the end, neither Puvis Amherst nor his Leaguer masters had reckoned on Greyffin IV's brave decision to abdicate, nor Onrad V's iron resolve to face the truth, and then do something about it. Perhaps it was a herald of things to come.
* * *
Penard Bay was in one of its rare peaceful moods as Brim relaxed at the peak of Starfury's forward Hyperscreens, dangling his feet over the expanse of crystal that sloped gradually to her snub-nosed prow. Overhead, a billion-odd stars blinked and twinkled in the night air. A spring breeze carried with it the smell of the sea as he peered out at ranks of gentle b
reakers just visible against the dark that of the bay itself. He'd climbed to this special perch nearly each night while Commodore Tor's crews rebuilt tile ship's propulsion section for a second time. That such major repairs were even possible—considering what the ship had been through during the past months—paid high tribute to Mark Valerian's magnificent design as well as the Sherrington Works' historic ability to build fine starships.
And though this particular night seemed peaceful enough, a galvanic change was in the air, he could feel it—both for the war and for himself. Immediately after destruction of the Leaguers' fort, the conflict had slewed off into a bogus stage. Ursis had named it the "Phony War," and urged everyone concerned to use each metacycle preparing for the coming onslaught. Things wouldn't last this way much longer, Brim was certain of that. The Leaguers simply couldn't allow it. Every moment of untroubled existence for Onrad's Imperial Fleet meant new ships, disrupters, better-trained crews—all pouring in an ever-widening stream from once-secret shipyards, arsenals, and training bases throughout the great expanse of Empire.
But unless Brim missed his guess, even the victor of this next war would sustain appalling damage. He shook his head as be looked down through the Hyperscreen panel into the bridge where Tissaurd was leading a party of engineers along the main corridor. They'd be hooking up the new generator controls tonight. Inside work. As old-fashioned as it might sound in an age of starships and HyperLight drives, blackouts still afforded considerable protection.
He leaned back on his hands and looked up at the shimmering array of stars. His life and his career were both in a state of considerable flux. Clearly, he was moving farther and faster in the Fleet than he had ever dreamed. Destruction of the Leaguer fort had advanced his reputation a hundredfold, even though he'd been quick to admit that his success was due in large part to an old lover. Moreover, in the past weeks, Tor had begun hinting about a new ship from the Sherrington yards, one so new and confidential that its mere existence was still regarded as a top state secret. And Calhoun had likewise indicated that the IVG would soon be absorbed back into the Imperial Fleet from which it came. A new posting with new, increased responsibilities was right around the corner; he was certain of it.
