"I say, Brim," the Emperor muttered, setting the box on the table and lifting its lid, "you certainly have come a long way for this," Inside was an eight-pointed starburst in silver and dark blue enamel with a single word engraved in its center VALOR. It was attached to an ivory sash embroidered in gold with the words GREYFFIN IV, GRAND GALACTIC EMPEROR, PRINCE OF THE REGGIO STAR CLUSTER, AND RIGHTFUL PROTECTOR OF THE HEAVENS. Opening the sash, he deftly placed it around Brim's neck, then stepped back and frowned. "Looks quite first-rate," he observed presently, pursing his lips and nodding his head.
"Thank you, Your Majesty."
Greyffin laughed a little. "You are most welcome, Lieutenant," he acknowledged, "but I'm dashed if I'll believe you are very thankful for having been put off so much today. I am quite aware that I was supposed to meet with you during the Morning watch." Then he sighed. "I am also aware that I am on the verge of keeping you from your assignation with my niece tonight at the Embassy of the Torond. Wilf Brim," he said with a little smile, "you are a most persistent young man."
Brim's insides suddenly turned to ice. "Your Highness?" he asked.
"My niece," Greyffin prompted, "Her Serene Majesty, Princess Margot of the Effer'wyck dominions and Baroness of the Torond." Then he smiled a little sadly. "The lady who would probably be your wife right now were it not for my interference."
"I... I," Brim stammered.
Greyffin held up a hand and smiled sympathetically. "Oh I know that you won't discuss this matter, Brim-a trait that I find most commendable. It tells me a great deal about you as a person, and about my niece as well." He smiled musingly again. "I should have known to trust her judgment. She's too discerning to be taken in by a mere social climber."
Brim opened his mouth, but Greyffin held up his hand again.
"Wait, Brim," he said. "Since nothing can change the circumstances that you and Margot find yourselves in, let least make sure you know that you have my understanding, and sympathy-if not my approval." He frowned, then smiled a little wistfully and stroked his beard.
"I should be a fool if I thought I could talk either one of you into calling off your affair. I suspect it is the real thing, as they say. My beautiful and wonderfully disrespectful niece has already laughed scornfully at that suggestion, and I cannot imagine anyone with your service record being discouraged by a mere Emperor." He chuckled quietly and nodded, looking Brim directly in the eye. "Yes, right-ho. She is beautiful, you young scalawag. Very beautiful-I can't blame you at all."
Stunned, Brim shook his head and raised his hands to his chest, palms up. "I don't know what to say, Your Highness..." he stammered.
"Don't say anything, Brim," the Emperor responded with a warm smile. "I shall have to dash off in a moment-more meetings, you know. That's how we Emperors earn our modest livings, if you haven't guessed by now." He glanced off through the window for a moment.
"Regrettably, Brim, LaKarn's in town tonight, so I doubt if you and Margot will be able to do much more than look longingly at each other. But there will be a future-unless you get yourself killed in this bloody awful war. And it's that future that concerns me now." He frowned for a moment, then pointed a most Imperial finger at Brim's middle. "Young man,"
he said, "as your Emperor, I make only one demand concerning this matter: that you are...
careful in your relationship with my niece-very careful. Her marriage is of profound importance-to the Empire, at least. And, as I believe she has already conveyed to you, it is therefore considerably more significant than either of you as individuals." A large warship thundering out of the distant base at Lake Mersin rattled the windows and momentarily claimed the Emperor's gaze before he turned his attention again to Brim. "Quite sorry to be so indelicate," he continued, "but I am really not terribly particular about with whom she sleeps, just so long as she is reasonably discreet about her affairs-and, of course, the first child doesn't look like Wilf Brim. After that, if any of them grows up with extremely black hair, a dimpled chin, and fancies of driving those bloody star buses you love, that's precious little of my business." With that, he extended his hand. "Once again, Lieutenant," he said, "my personal thanks for your extraordinary bravery and commitment to my Empire-jolly decent in the light of your Carescrian background...."
Brim felt his eyebrows rise as he shook the Emperor's hand again. He never expected anything like that.
"I don't rule well in Carescria," the Emperor continued, looking him directly in the eye, "as I am sure you know all too well. Perhaps we shall discuss that another day. Meanwhile, keep up your efforts against the League. I doubt if Nergol Triannic would do much more to improve things-and at least I am now painfully aware of my omissions in that part of my dominion."
Then he was gone....
Brim stood for long moments in shock, staring at the empty doorway-which momentarily filled with the ever-present Lorgan.
"Doctor Borodov is at the spinward portico. Lieutenant," he said. "I trust you had a favorable audience with His Nibs." Just as if it were an everyday occurrence....
Brim had rarely seen Margot in the presence of LaKarn-and never since their wedding.
He was stunned at the difference it made. Their eyes met for the first time in the reception line at the Embassy of the Torond; she was perhaps five persons away. In her peach-colored gown and long white gloves, she was more beautiful than ever. She recognized him, clearly-but with what a difference. Here-tonight-they were no longer lovers, only good friends, almost as if she had somehow donned a mask that only he could see.
Totally absorbed in a discord of conflicting emotions, Brim followed Borodov blindly toward the noisy ballroom through clouds of perfume and scented smoke until a detached voice from somewhere announced, "Wilf Ansor Brim, Lieutenant, Imperial Fleet," and abruptly he was shaking hands with Rogan LaKarn himself.
"Ah, hello Brim," the man said with a-forced?-nonchalance. He was tall and handsome, dressed in the luxurious black military uniform of a Colonel in the elite Hoffretz' Guards. His severe features were custom-made for the wisps of moustache that decorated a slightly curling upper lip, and his cold blue eyes fairly radiated power and affluence. Brim had to admit, he was quite a package. "So happy you could be with us tonight," he was saying.
"Old Borodov tells me you've just come from the Palace. Congratulations, for the Emperor's Cross, old man. Quite an honor, and all that."
"Thank you, Baron," Brim mumbled, finding himself at a complete loss for words. "I do feel honored indeed."
"Yes, I can imagine," LaKarn asserted, turning to Margot. "M'dear, I'm certain you will be..
. pleased to welcome this highly decorated Carescrian into our home. I believe you two were close friends at one time."
"Wilf," she said, giving him a quick little hug, "I'm so proud of you!" For one heart-wrenching moment, her small breasts were pressing his chest, her special perfume strong in his nostrils.
"You are beautiful," he whispered in a torment of emotion.
Then her lips brushed his-dry and closed, almost impersonally.
Every atom of his being ached desperately to take her in his arms and... except he couldn't do that. Her husband was standing right there beside her.... The whole thing was like some crazy, troubled dream. Universe knew he was desperately thankful just to see her face again-but it wasn't enough. He loved her. And he couldn't do a xaxtdamned thing but look!...