"Congratulations, hero," she whispered, pushing aside a luxurious strand of brown hair and taking his arm. "You should be terribly proud of yourself."
Brim smiled and looked into her brown eyes. "I guess I do feel pretty good about everything,'" he admitted, "but Barbousse did do all of the shooting."
"Except for the last shot," she corrected with a little wink, "the one that saved the whole mission." She grinned. "You see, I've heard the report already."
Brim felt his face burn. "Well..." he stumbled. Then he brightened. "Hmm," he said, raising his index finger and grinning. "I'll bet there's one thing that you don't know, smart aleck."
"What's that?" she asked with mock impudence.
"Did you know that the mission has made today the 'one of these days' that we've been promising each other?" he asked.
"Oh, Wilf," she groaned suddenly, her happy smile turning to a grimace, "you've always arrived before on some, ah, preset convoy schedule... you know. This time-well, nobody had any idea when you'd be back, and..."
Brim squeezed his eyes shut in embarrassment "I think I understand," he said sadly. "It wasn't very long ago that I didn't have any idea when we'd be back, either." Then he bit his lip. "I guess this isn't going to be the day, is it?"
Claudia's face reddened for a moment; then she smiled and pushed her hair over her shoulders. "Well," she said, looking down at the old brick floor of the warehouse, "I'd be lying to you if I said I didn't have plans for tonight...." Then suddenly she frowned and peered directly into his face. "I have been looking forward to another night out with you, Wilf Brim-for a long time now," she declared with a determined shrug, "and... well, I suppose it wouldn't be the first time I've told a white lie."
Brim grimaced and held up his hand and started to protest. "Claudia..."
"No 'Claudias' about it, Mister Brim," she interrupted with a determined grin. "And since your Defiant is not due back until sometime tomorrow, I shall pick you up here by the street entrance at..." she glanced at her timepiece, "the beginning of Twilight watch. How about that?"
Brim chuckled and nodded happily. "Claudia, you lovely lady," he said, "I feel so honored that I'll be here, even if Payless isn't."
"Good," she said with a wink. "Now go on up to the party while I make a quick personal call. I'll join you in a very few cycles...."
That evening, Claudia was as good as her word. Her little skimmer-looking even more battered than Brim remembered it-pulled up under the Payless Starmotive Salvage sign precisely as the Twilight watch began. A chill autumnal evening had just begun to hide the shabby streets in shades of dark mauve and shadow, and hints of coal and wood smoke hung in the still air. When she leaned over and opened the passenger door, she looked even more beautiful than Brim remembered. She was dressed in a bulky white sweater, dark woolen skirt, black stockings, and high boots. Silken tresses of brown hair framed her soft oval face like a graceful hood. "Need a ride, sailor?" she said, batting her long eyelashes in a mock display of sensual fireworks that-feigned or not-set Brim's blood to pounding in his ears.
"More than anything else I can think of," he answered, hoisting himself inside. For a long moment, he sat mutely staring at her. "By the very stars," he whispered at length, "you are beautiful, aren't you?"
Claudia pursed her lips in a pouting smile. "Flattery will get you nearly anywhere, Mister Brim," she said-he was dressed in mufti left over from the mission-"unless I happen to freeze to death before you stop letting all the heat out."
"Sony," he said, slamming the door. "But I'm only a simple starsailor."
" Only a simple starsailor, eh?..."
"Honestly, I am-I don't even know where we're going."
Claudia's eyes sparkled. "Well," she said as she navigated through the twisted streets, "I had originally planned to dine in one of the more genteel City Mount cabarets tonight. But since you are only a simple starsailor, I suppose you'll probably be more comfortable in some place more casually comfortable-like my apartment. How does that sound?"
Brim sighed as he relaxed in the shabby seat. No Helmsman's recliner had ever seemed as comfortable. "I can think of nothing so incontestably elegant, madam," he answered, "or half so pleasing."
Claudia lived in an ancient, three-level dwelling that fronted the intersection of two cobblestone alleyways in her beloved Rocotzian section of Atalanta. By the glow of nearby streetlamps, the old building's walls appeared to be splendidly sculpted in bas-relief. Tiny trees-now winter-bare-were tastefully located in ornate balconies and on either side of an elaborately arched entrance. The surrounding streets-designed for transportation a thousand years gone-were crowded with a variety of parked vehicles that for a few moments threatened to force them a considerable distance away. However, just as Brim was preparing himself for a significant hike, she finessed the skimmer into an incredibly small opening between an arrogant-looking limousine and a dilapidated delivery vehicle less than a block from their door. He saluted this masterful Helmsmanship with loud applause. Then they picked their way over the uneven paving blocks, laughing and talking about every subject imaginable-except the war.
Her flat occupied all of the top floor, two double doors in its dusky, old-fashioned drawing room providing unobstructed views of the darkened harbor-now occasionally lighted by flashes of lightning from a storm out to sea. The ceilings were delicate trompe l'oeil scrolls connected to painted cameos framed in white and touched with gilt against backgrounds of pastel mauve, sapphire, and jade. The curtains, furniture, and carpets all blended into one exquisite-totally feminine-whole. An ornate comer fireplace in dainty tiles blazed cheerily between the doors-its glow seemed to warm the whole of Brim's war-torn Universe. Velvety music wove patterns of incredible elegance through air spiced by wood smoke, perfume, and the yeasty odor of baking bread. "Like it?" she asked.
"I love it," Brim uttered quietly as he shed his coat. "It's beautiful-like its owner."
She smiled warmly and blew him a kiss. "I asked the caretaker to start the wood before we got here," she said, settling into the corner of a great plush couch that fronted the fire. "It seems his timing was perfect." She lit an aromatic mu'occo cigarette and indicated a wall cabinet between two ancient-looking oil paintings. "I have both e'lande and what my dealer assures me is some perfectly respectable Logish Meem over there. And, Mr. Brim, if you'll be so good as to pour, I shall patriotically start with e'lande."
"I admire that kind of patriotism," Brim declared with mock solemnity as he strode across the room. "Fortunately, the national Carescrian beverage is water, mostly polluted, so I enjoy considerable patriotic latitude." He opened an ornate door. In the glimmer of hovering GlowOrbs, a half-dozen shelves crowded by liqueur containers of every possible shape and hue surrounded three sides of a waist-high counter. This latter held a pair of crystal goblets, an ornate decanter of clear liquid that smelled like e'lande when he pulled the stopper, and a half-dozen flasks of elderly-looking Logish Meem. Choosing the latter for himself, he filled each of the goblets and carried them to the couch. "To the 'one of these days' that finally came true," he said, delivering the e'lande to her manicured hand, then touching the rim of her goblet with his.