"Nik, do you think he might really have been a space pirate?" the young A'zurnian Helmsman queried when the two were out of earshot.
"One draws one's own conclusions," Ursis replied in his most impassive manner.
"He certainly said he was no stranger to space," Brim added with a grin. "But what he actually did out there is anybody's guess."
"Yeah," Aram agreed, laughing. "Well, whatever it was, I'll bet he was good at it."
"That," Brim said, "is a bet I wouldn't take in a thousand standard years."
"Nor I," Ursis added with a toothy grin. "And mark these words, my friends: his expertise-whatever it turns out to be-will someday serve us well. Winning wars often requires thinking that is, shall we say, 'unconventional'?"
Brim was about to comment further when his gaze met a familiar pair of brown eyes-the same that he'd encountered earlier at the morning briefing. Claudia! Tonight she wore a while sweater that showed her ample bust to its best advantage and a skirt sufficiently short to reveal the slim legs and tiny feet that had so set him on edge in the flight bridge of the attack launch. This time, she was in conversation with a circle of civilians. He smiled and mouthed a silent "Hello" across the room. It was certainty too noisy for any other means of communication.
The Haelician returned his smile and winked, holding his gaze with her own as if she'd been waiting for him to arrive. And her red-haired Commodore was nowhere in sight.
Brim quickly took leave of his shipmates and pushed off again through the crowd, stopping at the pantry for two fresh goblets of meem. As he made his way across the floor, she said something to her friends, then navigated the rest of the way to meet him. "Thought you might need a refill," he said, trying not to stare. If anything, she was even more beautiful than he recalled.
"What?" she called out above the clamor.
"A refill," Brim fairly shouted, handing her one of the goblets. "I thought you might like a fresh drink."
"How thoughtful," Claudia said, bending directly to his ear. "Especially since I know your launch hasn't been delivered to Defiant. I thank you, Lieutenant."
Brim frowned and ignored the launch-he'd never have found time for it anyway. "Was that 'lieutenant' you just called me?" he asked with a grin.
Claudia nodded her head while she swirled her drink around its goblet in a most expert manner.
"I thought we were on a first-name basis," he protested with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh, we are," she said, looking him directly in the face. "I simply wanted to assure myself that you felt that way here. Long ago I learned the hard way that some of your Fleet colleagues dislike hearing their first names used in public-especially by a local."
"You haven't met many Carescrians then, have you?" Brim barked, just saving his meem from destruction when a tipsy commander stumbled into him.
"Not yet," Claudia shouted, nimbly avoiding a similar fate from his bleary-eyed companion. "And come to think of it, I'll bet you haven't encountered many Haelicians, either, have you?"
"No," Brim admitted, "I haven't-but then, I only arrived a little more than two days ago."
"True," Claudia said as two more couples jostled past on their way to the pantry. Bumped for a third time in as many clicks, she narrowed her eyes for a moment, then grinned-her teeth perfect against generous ruby lips. "You know," she shouted, "instead of standing here being trampled, we could do something about both our predicaments-and this worse-than-damned noise."
Brim frowned. "What did you have in mind?" he growled, fending off a gesticulating dockyard manager at his back.
"Well," Claudia said, talking directly into his ear, "one of my favorite places just happens to be in a nearby section of town. And unless you really enjoy this noise and jostling," she said, "I'll bet I could have us there in no time at all."
Without a second thought, Brim stepped forward, grinned, and offered Claudia his arm.
"Ma'am," he shouted, "I am at your service-immediately."
They left their goblets on a cluttered table at the companionway....
The hoarse growl of Claudia's open-air skimmer reverberated from low concrete abutments on either side of the bridge deck as they glided over the famous stone arches of the Harbor Causeway and onto the mainland. Claudia herself chattered like a tour guide, pointing through the scarred, sun-discolored windshield at each street and lamppost as if it represented something very special-which clearly it did in her mind, at least. Her skirt had slipped well past her knees as she worked the control pedals in high heels, and Brim found himself hard-pressed to keep his eyes where she directed.
On the mainland side of the bridge, the Grand Canal was fronted with unending rows of monolithic government warehouses and office complexes-interrupted here and mere by mountains of fire-blackened debris. The great, flat-faced buildings lined each barren street with the boring sureness of state-regulated architecture everywhere. Crowded sidewalks and furious night-shift activity in thousands of lighted windows gave proof that the big base worked on a round-the-clock basis. Brim knew it had done so since long before Nergol Triannic's Great War began.
In the Government Section, Claudia found little of historical interest to point out, and drove considerably faster along the wide thoroughfares until the faceless buildings grew smaller and began to thin. As the skimmer sped inland toward City Mount, the office precincts gave way to light industrial complexes, and finally to ancient bedroom neighborhoods built of stone, brick, and mortar. Then, just short of the final canal bridge, they skirted the port's gaudy pleasure district. Claudia hurried through this section, too, ignoring the garishly painted nude men and women who shouted from brightly lighted storefronts to advertise their services. Brim found himself shivering as they sped along the crowded boulevards.
Long ago, he had known places like these firsthand. He had no desire to return. Ever.
Presently, they bumped over the last steep canal bridge, slowed, and turned through a wooden gate in a massive stone wall, entering the ancient Rocotzian section of Atalanta.
According to Claudia, the name derived from the shape of the wall itself, which traced the uniquely suggestive outlines of a male rocotzio bud.
Centuries in the past-long after such walls retained only symbolic meaning-Omot warriors overran Hador's entire planetary system, enslaving the whole civilization there for nearly three hundred years. Only when the warlike Gradgroat-Norchelite priests led an uprising-assisted by the newly confederated Galactic Empire-were the conquerors overthrown and ultimately slain to a man. The last Omotian was captured almost seventy years after the main forces capitulated-and beheaded on the spot.
During subsequent, unsettled years, the Gradgroat-Norchelite order constructed their great hilltop monastery and thirteen orbital forts to repel one last invasion, but the great space disruptors they installed never fired again. And during hundreds of intervening decades, the monster weapons fell into disuse as The Order assumed a more peaceful mission in the galaxy. Nevertheless, the Gradygroats, as they were by now Universally nicknamed, continued to maintain the orbital forts just as if the reliquaries still housed first-line weapons systems. Indeed, most Gradgroat-Norchelite friars and priests firmly persisted in their belief that their antediluvian-and by now unworkable-space cannon would yet be used to save the empire. But as the years passed, the term Gradygroat entered almost every dialect of Avalonian as a synonym for "ridiculous." Brim smiled as he watched Claudia tell the ancient stories. It was fairly clear she was a believer, too-although be doubted she would ever admit that to him!...
At night. The Section appeared to be a haphazard proliferation of tall stone buildings with intricately carved walls, dimly lighted arched windows, and balconies jammed with people taking the night air. Claudia piloted her skimmer smoothly through the maze of narrow streets, filled by men and women wearing bright-colored clothing with tasseled, pillbox hats.