Startled, Aram raised an eyebrow. "Sir?" he asked.
"Never mind," Brim replied bemusedly, reaching in front of the A'zurnian to enter the characters himself. "LOGISH MEDOC 51019." "Send that," he ordered. Then, he waited....
" 'HERE'S TO THE HEAT, WILF BRIM,' " appeared a moment later. "HOW ARE YOUR
PASSENGERS?"
Brim took a deep breath. That was one problem out of the way.
At the same moment, Onrad appeared with Oodam on the flight deck. "Tell her your passengers are healthy and damn well ready to go home, Aram," he ordered.
"Aye, Your Majesty," Aram replied.
Moments later, another message appeared in the KA'PPA display—this time in Vertrucht. "So, brim," it read, "it seems that i shall have to forgo your company in trade for my life. what a pity. i should liked to have met your 'passenger.' another princess, perhaps?"
Brim grinned and reached in front of Aram again. "YOU WON'T LEARN ANYTHING FROM
ME, VALENTIN," he Sent in Vertrucht. "I never kiss and tell. It's the secret of my—considerable—success."
"Until our paths cross again, Imperial scum."
"I'LL LOOK FORWARD TO IT, LEAGUER CLOWN." Brim Sent as the Gorn-Hoff put its helm over and curved gracefully off to starboard—with its disruptors continuing to track Brim's forehead until it disappeared into the distance. "shall i send someone off to blast him?" appeared in the KA'PPA window.
Onrad shook his head. "Tell her 'no,' Aram," he said. "That Leaguer crony of Brim's never fired on us—as did our own ships."
Immediately, the four Starfuries moved into formation around them—and were joined within the next quarter metacycle by fully three additional squadrons of the powerful interceptors, forming a nearly impenetrable shield around the little Leaguer starship.
Brim actually enjoyed the remainder of his return to Avalon. It was easier flying a strange starship when he didn't have to worry about people from both sides blowing him to kingdom come.
With the planet Avalon a huge disk in Brim's forward Hyperscreens, Defense Command KA'PPAed a sparse order slowing the powerful formation out of Hyperspeed, but withholding landfall clearance for any of the starships. Moments later the 219's Hyperscreens stopped translating and became transparent to normal photons, Brim received a LightSpeed-limited radio message—without video—from General Harry Drummond himself. "Brim," the General grumbled through an unmistakable chuckle, "you have the xaxtDAMNDEST talent for trouble I've ever encountered. How DO you do it?"
"Er...." Brim answered, "I'm not entirely to blame this time, General. It's the company I keep."
Drummond laughed. "By the Universe, now that's an excuse I'll accept! You certainly have been traveling with fast, and often troublesome, associates."
"Aye, sir," Brim replied in as innocent a voice as he could muster.
"Well, my Carescrian friend," Drummond continued, "tell you what. Because I believe in your innate goodness—as well as that of your A'zurnian comrade in outrage—I have decided to remove the two bad influences you have with you. How does that sound?"
Brim looked at Aram and rolled his eyes to the top Hyperscreens. "Does that sound wonderful to you?" he asked.
"Just thraggling WUN-der-ful," the A'zurnian answered— with his microphone shut off.
"We both think that sounds wonderful, General, We appreciate your efforts on our behalf."
"Good," Drummond said, suddenly serious. "In approximately five cycles, you will sight I.F.S. Oddeon in a parking orbit. She was on final for landfall on Lake Mersin when we first picked up your initial KA'PPAs; she's been standing by ever since, just in case the message was genuine, which—thank the Universe—it was. When the storm abates a bit more, you'll immediately moor to Oddeon's boarding pipe and transfer your two passengers—who, we strongly suggest, should board the battleship with their battlesuits faceplates darkened. After all, the hatches won't match, so their battlesuits will have to be sealed anyway."
"Sounds like a plan to me, General," Brim said, "I'll take care of the mooring, but perhaps you should pass on the suggestions yourself."
Drummond thought about that for a moment. "Yeah," he grumbled. "Probably that's not a bad idea. What sort of shape's the key passenger in?"
Brim thought for a moment about that. "Healthy as a racing zorquine, General. Not even winded."
"No, I mean, how does the, er, passenger feel about the possible consequences that might have resulted from the, er, 'mission'? You'd think a certain amount of shame would surface." He paused for a moment. "And to tell the truth, you ought to feel a bit ashamed for letting such an important passenger get in such trouble."
Brim decided to ignore the General's second comment, even though he was feeling a bit irresponsible concerning the episode. He considered his words carefully. "I think you'll find the passenger is pretty well satisfied with, er, his or her own actions. General," he said, speaking privately into his microphone. "At the time, there were exceptionally compelling grounds for the 'mission.' and during subsequent actions, I personally saw some real bravery—not bravado, mind you— along with the kind of leadership we all have expected. With the greatest respect, General, you probably won't want to, er, dwell on feelings of shame the passenger ought to have."
The radio was silent for a moment, then Drummond laughed softly. "Well spoken, Brim," he said.
"I sincerely appreciate the words."
"Thank you, General," Brim said, stifling a great sigh of relief. "Would you like me to put the passenger on, now?"
"Absolutely," Drummond said, "after you disable the transmit, please. We won't need answers."
"Aye, sir," Brim said with a grin, then switched off the master transmitter and turned in his seat.
''General Drummond for you, Your Majesty," he announced. "I'm afraid we won't be able to send your answers...."
No more than half a metacycle later, Brim watched Onrad and Beyazh making their way safely through the battleship's transparent boarding tube and breathed a sigh of relief. He winked at Aram.
"Let's take this little tub and head for home," he said.
The A'zurnian grinned. "Nobody has claimed it yet, have they?"
Brim nodded. "Eventually, it'll go to the labs on Proteus for evaluation," he said. "But they'll have to come get it from FleetPort 30, 'cause I'm not flying it any farther than that."
"Besides, it does have rather bizarre markings, wouldn't you say?" Aram quipped.
"Yeah. Really...."
"Imperial Gorn-Hoff 319-JE from Oddeon," the battleship radioed. "You may seal ship and cast off at your convenience."
"Thank you, Oddeon" Brim replied. He turned to Aram.
"Nodzoff means 'locked,' and Sadzoff means 'sealed,' my friend."
"I'm on my way, Wilf," the A'zurnian said, heading aft into the passenger compartment. Moments later, he returned to his seat. "The hatch is now nodzoffed and sadzoffed," he reported with a grin.