PRESENCE AT THE IMPERIAL PALACE IN AVALON FOR THE PURPOSE OF
TENDERING AN EMPEROR'S CROSS INTO YOUR HANDS IN ACCORDANCE WITH
TRADITIONS OF THE FLEET: AT MORNING WATCH PLUS THREE, 23/51996. YOUR
SPONSOR WILL BE DR. A. A. BORODOV.
2. DUE TO THE EXIGENCIES OF WAR, REGULATION UNIFORM IS REQUIRED.
[END UNCLASSIFIED]
PERSONAL REGARDS
GREYFFIN IV SENDS
Q07WFO-9
A second KA'PPA message arrived on its heels, also personally delivered from the COMM section. This one was marked "Secret" and transmitted by one L.K.G. gNoord, personal secretary to Greyffin IV. It provided coordinates and times at which a courier ship would rendezvous with Defiant to pick up Brim on his way past Avalon-as well as drop him off when Defiant passed on her return trip with the latest convoy. Once be finished reading this message, he actually started to believe he might really be going to Avalon again.
Before the watch was over, everyone, it seemed, felt obliged to traipse through the control bridge, personally congratulating Brim by slapping him on the back or shaking his hand. Both became remarkably tender before he finally turned the controls over to Waldo and escaped to his cabin. There, behind a locked door, he struggled for two solid metacycles to discover some way of letting Margot know he was on his way, but none of his schemes made any sense at all. Unfortunately, the new Baroness of the Torond had been quite specific that she would contact him when the time came do so.
Finally devoid of fresh ideas, he relaxed by browsing idly through his mail. Much was the usual junk, but midway through the list a message from A. A. Borodov caught his eye and he enabled it immediately. In his display, the elderly Sodeskayan's muzzle had become significantly whiter in the year that had passed since he and Brim served on the same ship, but the Bear himself was not changed at all. His message of congratulations was so warm and sincere that Brim could almost feel it. Later, as he continued to scroll through his message list, Brim considered the singular honor old Borodov had accorded him. The elder Sodeskayan was now considered by many to be the most brilliant researcher of the Empire in his field of propulsion physics.
Abruptly, he caught sight of an entry sourced: EMBASSY: THE TOROND. Heart pounding in sudden anticipation, he touched activate, then held his breath waiting for Margot's golden curls to appear in his globular display....
They did not. Instead, the display filled with standard symbols that spelled out an invitation-and not the kind he had expected at alclass="underline"
TO: Wilf A. Brim, Lt., I.F. @CL. 921
FROM: Rogan LaKarn, Baron, the Torond
@ Embassy of the Torond/Avalon
Your attendance is requested at a ball saluting the Honorable Yossobb Lotord, Emissary to the Court of Mogrund XXIV. In keeping with wartime protocols, regulation uniform dress is requested.
Evening Watch: 25/51996
Embassy of the Torond
Avenue of the Patrons
Avalon
Frowning, Brim immediately understood that Borodov had already notified Margot of his impending arrival. Bears always seemed to know how to handle such affairs. The invitation-on the evening of his audience with Greyffin IV-was clearly her answer, and it contained more man one meaning for Brim. The message itself was mere "boilerplate,"
written for impartial-and impersonal-transmission to a standard guest list by unseen embassy secretaries. The fact that his had been sent separately-a mere Lieutenant's name would never appear on such a list-was sure sign of Margot's hand. However, since no personal touch accompanied it. Brim was also led to the inescapable conclusion that this would finally be the first of their encounters when they would not be able to "touch." Glancing at her tiny holoportrait-one he had torn from a magazine-he wondered how well he would manage the situation. Ominously, he failed to conjure even a single positive speculation.
Three days later, Brim found himself in the jump seat of another speedy little LK-91 as it rumbled in for a flawless, predawn landing on Avalon's Lake Mersin, then taxied smoothly onto a tree-lined gravity pool. He felt a momentary sadness sweep over him as he thought of the last time he'd seen Avalon's military complex-Margot had met him beside one of these pools....
As he carried his lightweight softpack through the packet's main hatch, he spied a massive black limousine at the bottom of the brow reflecting the first rays of a dawning Asterious triad. Easily the most elegant nonflying machine he had ever encountered, it was manned by two tall and athletic drivers who sprang from the front seat and snapped to attention when he reached the foot of the brow. Dressed in formal red coats, and black jodhpurs of Imperial Guardsman, they had the short haircuts, small mean eyes, and arrogant chins that wordlessly suggested the breed of superpatriots who remorselessly followed all orders, under all circumstances. Every drop of Brim's Carescrian blood distrusted both men immediately.
"Lieutenant Brim?" one of them asked politely. He had a long scar across his chin.
Brim nodded, wondering if the man ever smiled.
"May we see your identification, please?" The quiet words were no request.
Wordlessly, Brim proffered the HoloID from his tunic.
Both drivers spent considerable time comparing it to his face before they finally handed it back. "Thank you, Lieutenant," the scarred one said at length, clicking his heels crisply .and climbing into the portside driver's console. The other Guardsman held the back door open while Brim entered a spacious ophet-leather passenger compartment. Moments later, the skimmer departed at high speed in a shower of layla blossoms-spring was glorious in Avalon!-with Brim wryly considering that were it not for the ophet-leather interior, the whole affair would seem rather more like an arrest than anything else.
In little time at all, the big limousine was speeding effortlessly through the early-morning traffic on tree-lined Vereker Boulevard as it followed the shore into downtown Avalon, Brim shook his head, recalling that his last two rides on the Vereker had also been in limousines, but neither belonged to the Emperor himself-nor one that had made such rapid progress through traffic. The prominent Imperial flags fluttering on either side of its windscreen appeared to be at least as effective as a siren. When people saw those looming up from the rear, they moved over! Soon the Desterro Monument flashed by on the right and then the gleaming ruby arch over the Grand Achtite Canal. In a few cycles more, the Marva tower had passed into their wake. Following that, congestion on the Vereker increased exponentially as they began to traverse inner districts of the sprawling city, but they were deep into the Beardmore Section before traffic slowed to Avalon's usual morning commuter crush. Brim chuckled as they crawled past row after row of historic buildings. At least every third one appeared to be propped up by some sort of scaffolding. A wonderful place to live, Margot used to say-if they ever finished it....
Then the bottleneck was behind them, and they were gliding through Courtland Plaza, slowing for the perilous traffic circle around Savoin fountain and easing toward a curb lane for the sharp turn through the Huntingdon Gate and into the grounds of the Imperial Palace.
At the precise moment they slowed for the guard station. Brim began to comprehend that this was not merely a short leave he had finessed to Avalon. He actually was going to see the Emperor-and soon! He swallowed hard as the awful reality began to sink in-a thousand Gorn-Hoffs were preferable! Taking a deep breath, he forced his hand away from the latching mechanism-too late to jump ship now, anyway. But what in the name of Voot's big toenail was he-a poor Carescrian-doing at an audience with Greyffin IV, Grand Galactic Emperor, Prince of the Reggio Star Cluster, and Rightful Protector of the Heavens? He shook his head in sudden panic. He ought to be getting back to the ship-surely there was some mistake.... Then, just as he was about to open his mouth, his alternatives evaporated when the limousine pulled smoothly out of the guard station, coasted across a vast gold-brick plaza, and came to rest at an enormously wide staircase. Like it or not, be had arrived!