While she spoke, Brim found himself frowning up at her in the dim light that streamed in through the dirt-caked Hyperscreens-and his fascination this time had nothing to do with her tight coveralls or anything like them. Here was a Claudia he hadn't really expected to meet: someone who loved starships the way he did. "You know a lot about the old girl, don't you?"
he asked. "Especially for somebody who isn't on a flight crew."
She smiled wistfully and looked out through the old V-shaped Hyperscreens. "You don't necessarily have to be a Helmsman to love starships, Wilf Brim," she said. "We all mate do the best we can with what gifts the Universe provides us-I just happen to be better at yard management than piloting."
Brim felt his face bum. "Sony," he said.
She held up her hand palm first. "It's all right," she said, aiming her head just slightly.
"You're no different than the other thousand or so Helmsmen I've encountered." Then she softened. "And now, Lieutenant Brim," she continued with a smile, "it is high time we get to the job at hand. Captain Collingswood will expect some sort of report about this old starship-other than the list of celebrities she once carried. And I have an appointment for tonight that I do not expect to miss. All right?..."
Brim felt a sudden rush of emotion that felt a lot like jealousy. He squelched that quickly enough. He had no claim on this woman, even if he was strongly attracted to her.... "All right," he agreed, hoping she hadn't noticed his hesitation. "We might as well start here on the bridge."
For almost three metacycles, the two recorded a reasonably careful inspection of the old ship and her general condition. The bridge was missing a few consoles, but Claudia was pretty sure those would be available on some of the other ED-4s in the Salvage Yard. And although most of the passenger and cargo decks below had been completely stripped out, the ship would certainly never serve as a transport again, so this was no great loss either.
Moreover, her Laterals and single Vertical appeared to have been untouched since the day she was last shut down. The most important news, though, was that she seemed solid as the day she was built- very solid. Only warships were constructed with that sort of strength anymore.
They returned to Defiant in the early evening-during the shift-break commuter rush.
Claudia was clearly anxious to be on her way, so Brim took the recorder with him as be stepped from her skimmer. "I'll do the editing for us this evening," he said with what he hoped was a convincing smile.
"I really appreciate that," she said with a hurried smile. "I'll try to join you in the wardroom a little early tomorrow to go over it before the meeting.'' Moments later, she was off in a whirling cloud of dusty sand, skillfully darting nimbly through the heavy traffic like a destroyer among a fleet of battleships.
After she had driven out of sight, Brim jammed his hands in his pockets and made his way to the wardroom, when he knew Ursis and Flynn would be sipping meem prior to supper. He shook his head; somehow, every time he parted company with Claudia Valemont, he got the same empty, lonely reeling in the pit of his stomach. As he stopped at Grimsby's pantry for his own split of meem, he took a deep breath and frowned. He was getting far too involved with the lovely Atalantian. It was high time he simply put her out of his mind-which he attempted by joining his two friends at their table a few moments later.
It didn't work....
Later that evening, after he finished editing their recorded voice report, his fitful sleep was constantly troubled by visions of someone-whose face be never was able to see-rutting noisily with the beautiful Atalantian on the bunk beside him. It made for a very long and very lonely night.
The following morning, Claudia showed up only a few moments before the meeting began, whispering an embarrassed apology for sleeping later than she had planned. Her bloodshot eyes looked as tired as Brim felt-and try as he might to convince himself otherwise, he knew in his heart of hearts that his dream had been all too accurate.
Using a number of her local contacts, Claudia soon located a huge, dilapidated warehouse in Atalanta's ancient waterfront district that was perfect for Defiant's new enterprise. The weathered brick building featured both an ample wharf on a main canal and an indoor gravity pool that, once properly refurbished, could accommodate an ED-4.
Collingswood immediately leased the building for "Payless Starmotive Salvage" through the local Intelligence field office. By common consent, Barbousse won a fine old bottle of Logish Meem for the name that only just edged out Brim's "Imperial Rigging and Refurbishment."
As soon as the lease was official, Ursis and a crew of systems specialists from Defiant moved in to repair the decrepit gravity pool. They were supplied with parts trucked in from Fleet-base stores aboard civilian skimmers hastily painted with the logo "Apex Starship Supply." Finally, the new "businessmen" contracted for Prize to be towed from the Salvage Yard by a commercial salvaging firm. It was a tired crew that watched from their pier while a tug from Atalanta All-Watch Towing and Salvage maneuvered Prize up the big ramp in the seawall. They had been at work for only five standard days-thirty-five remained-but the Blue Capes were due out for convoy duty the next morning. War had a way of getting in the way of everything.
Little more than a week later, Brim found himself back in one of the building's loft offices poring over a set of system diagrams. He now had a bandage around his head and a severely burned left arm whose replacement skin was still quite tender. Defiant had suffered serious damage during her latest convoy and would be out of commission for at least a week.. After making landfall with only the starboard Lateral in operation, he had turned her over to the shipwrights, men headed directly for the Payless warehouse.
Below him, centered in littered disorder on the main floor, Prize floated on her newly renovated gravity pool amid the shattering discord of power cutters and hullmetal forming tools. The smoky air was alive with odors of fusing metal, Hyperscreen sealant, hot lubricants, and the usual toasted logics. Crews of brightly dressed "Atalantian locals" busily worked on her hull from hovering power scaffolds. Thick bundles of glowing cables ran from every open port to rows of kaleidoscopic checkout consoles manned by an improbable assortment of "waterfront toughs." The old ship's waist hatches had been enlarged considerably, and already the snouts of powerful 122-mmi twin-mounts protruded from the openings. Near the bow and stem, still-crated 90-mmi rapid-firing antitank disruptors lay on the stained brick flooring waiting to be installed behind removable caps.
While Brim studied the diagrams, a movement caught his eye. Peering through the filthy windows, he watched a huge flatbed barge lumber around the corner of the canal, its powerful gravity engines shaking the floor beneath his feet. The only cargo on her decks consisted of two heavy looking crates, each stenciled SOR-1820 HYPERDRIVE CRYSTAL (REMANUFACTURED). As the cumbersome vehicle warped onto the Payless wharf, a suspiciously professional group of "civilian" dockworkers secured the great, awkward vessel, and a shapely woman dressed in worn coveralls advertising "Ace Salvage and Parts" climbed to the dock. The latter made her way into the work area and continued across the floor to a steep metal staircase that led to his loft. Even with her long hair in a bun, it could only be Claudia.