Chief Petty Officer Tutti—Chief Consort Raddisma's private chauffeur. I want you to know, sir, that I'm doin' everythin' I can to get some word of what's happenin' out there."
Brim smiled and put his hand on the big man's arm. "So it's pretty safe to assume that you've known about the baby," he said.
Barbousse turned scarlet and he looked down at his boots. "Both baby an' mother were doin' fine as of the end of last week," he asserted. "This thing that LaKarn and the Leaguers are doin' has caught everybody off guard. I'd never have let either of the ladies get into this kind of trouble."
"Thanks," Brim said lamely. "I don't know what else to say."
"No thanks necessary, Cap'm," Barbousse said. "We've taken care of each other over the years. It's been a good arrangement."
"The best," Brim said with real feeling—at the same moment that an orderly put his head around the corner.
"Captain Brim," he said. "Sorry to interrupt, sir, but I have a top-secret dispatch for you personally, direct from the Imperial Palace."
"A personal message?" Brim asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Aye, sir."
"I'll be outside if you need me, Cap'm," Barbousse said, passing the message to Brim and ushering the orderly out the door before him.
Sitting at his desk, Brim lightly touched his right index finger to the plastic envelope's Imperial Seal, then withdrew it. In a few moments, the seal completed its processing, recognized his fingerprint, and vaporized in a cloud of odorless smoke. Inside the envelope was a single sheet of light blue plastic, engraved in gold with the Imperial Seal of the Emperor.
The Imperial Palace
30 Octad/52011
My Dear Captain Brim
With this letter, We take pleasure informing you of Our decision to evacuate the Fluvannian Nabob, Mustafa IX Eyren, The Magnificent, and His Principal Consort, Raddisma, to the Fleet base at Atalanta, Gimmas Haefdon. Certain of their chief servants, and others from the Court at Magor, Ordu, will accompany them during this period of invasion danger in that city. Because you won many friends there during your tenure as a member of Our Imperial Volunteer Group, We thought you would wish to know. Accept, Captain, the assurances of Our highest consideration, etc., etc.
Onrad V, Vice Admiral, I.F.,
Grand Galactic Emperor,
Prince of the Reggio Star Cluster,
and Rightful Protector of the Heavens.
As Brim read the words, a wave of relief seemed to wash over him like cooling water in a desert.
"We thought you would want to know," he repeated to himself, over and over until... "Barbousse!" he shouted. "You still out there?"
Barbousse poked his head inside the office. "Aye, Cap'm," he said with a very serious mien. "I...er... just got a message, m'self...."
"It can wait," Brim said, holding up a hand. "This can't! Come in and shut the door.1'
"Aye, Cap'm," Barbousse said with an interested look on his face. He softly pulled the door shut behind him.
"Sit down," Brim said, indicating the single guest chair he permitted in his office.
Barbousse sat.
"Chief," Brim began, "you'll have to trust me with this one, but I've got good news."
"Aye, sir?"
"Both Chief Tutti and Raddisma are safe. I can't tell you anything more than that, but it's true. All right?"
Barbousse smiled and allowed himself to relax in his seat for a moment. "Aye, sir," he said, looking Brim directly in the eye. "An' I'll always appreciate your telling' me that. Believe that."
Brim nodded. "Thank the Universe," he whispered more to himself than his long-time shipmate.
Then he shook his head and came to a more rational mien. "I'm sorry for interrupting. What was your message?"
Barbousse's face colored. "Well, beggin' the Cap'm's pardon, an' all that, er, my message pretty well said the same thing, 'cept it came by word of mouth from an"—he pursed his lips and shrugged—"er, one o' m' sources, Cap'm. But just in case your, er, source didn't mention it, Consort Raddisma an' Chief Tutti are both goin' to Atalanta. The Emperor's evacuatin' them along wi' members of the court, there."
Brim felt his face go red. "Thank you. Chief," he said. "And speaking of appreciating...."
"You won't mention this to anybody, will you, Cap'm?" Barbousse interrupted. "That comes from one of m' best sources."
"Chief," Brim said, smiting in spite of his embarrassment. "My lips are sealed."
"So're mine," Barbousse said. "Always."
Later, reflecting on why the Emperor had bothered to tell him about the decision to evacuate the Nabob and his court from Magor, Brim came up with a thousand answers—and no answers. Finally, with typical Carescrian pragmatism, he decided never to question gifts, in whatever form they came. The following morning, he departed for the surface to attend the Squadron Commanders' meeting at the Admiralty. The miraculous lull in the fighting made it seem almost as if he were going on leave.
Somehow, the day's endless harangues about augmenting base safety, managing "personnel," producing Officer Effectiveness Reports in a "timely fashion" (whatever that meant), maintaining vigilant security, and other such administrative minutiae failed to keep Brim's interest. He sat quietly in the rear of this meeting room or that auditorium as the day passed, collecting endless handouts and attempting to look interested in the appointed subject while he alternately speculated about having a daughter and watched Eve Cartier trying not to notice how much he was staring at her.
After what seemed like ten Standard Centuries, the agenda crawled painfully to its end. He lied to Moulding and Aram, telling them they should go out on the town without him because he had yet another briefing to attend. Then he stalled around until most of the other officers had filed out of the large Weathersby Auditorium, after which he waited until Vice Admiral (the Hon.) Keith Hunt finished with whatever he was telling Eve. Finally, he sauntered—casually, he hoped—out the door, meeting her "quite by accident" in the huge domed lobby of the Admiralty. "Eve!" he exclaimed in feigned surprise. "I didn't know you were here today."
Cartier smiled demurely. "Faith, Captain Brim," she said, smoothing her hair. "An' who else wad stand in for me, now?"
"No one could e'en— even try, so far as I'm concerned," Brim answered, resolving this time to resist a lapse into the Carescrian speech patterns of his youth. "Especially now that the meetings are over."
"Hoot Mon but they were Jang, weren't they?" she asked, ignoring his obvious "correction."
"I think we're supposed to get something special from meetings that are especially long and boring," Brim said, "but I've never been smart enough to understand what that is."
"Thank the Universe they're not all luik that," she said, then they both stood for a long moment in silence.
"I, ah..." Brim stumbled, straightening the collar of his Fleet Cloak, "h-hoped you might have the evening free."
" 'Tis the very idea I tried to get across the other day on the radio," she said, "hopin' that you might hae the same evenin' free."
"Looks like wishes do come true sometimes," Brim said.
Cartier laughed. "If that's so, then perhaps we'll win this war very quickly and stop the bloody killin', for that's certainly my wish."
"Sounds good to me," Brim said, "but I don't suppose I'll hold my breath."
"Nor I," Cartier replied, glancing sideways to see her reflection in a mirror.