Unfortunately—at least in Brim's way of thinking—as soon as his whereabouts became known, Calhoun dispatched a staff skimmer to bring him to a special Admiralty conference for Emperor Onrad.
But just as the driver pulled up to the debris-strewn entrance to the skimmer pool, one of the seemingly tireless reception aides shouted across the lobby, "Captain Brim—there's a call for you. Do you want to take it here?"
Brim nodded and signaled the driver to wait, then strode across the lobby to a bank of HoloPhones. "Switch it to this one, mister," he said, enabling the display and pressing the receive zone.
Immediately, a tiny image of Eve Cartier appeared above the transceiver. She looked awful, as if she had been crying all night.
"Wilf?" she said through swollen eyes, "I'd heard you were down an' there were no survivors at the wreck." As she spoke, her eyes filled with tears and she buried her nose in a large handkerchief.
"Thank the Universe you're all right," she said muzzily. "I thought you were... dead."
Brim bit his lip, touched to his very heart that someone cared that much about him. "I've got a lang habit o' living, Eve," he said quietly with his old Carescrian burr. " 'Tis made me quite indisposed toward death."
She blew her nose and took the handkerchief from her face. "Stay that way, my very special Carescrian friend. I'm afraid I've become exceptionally attached to you lately."
"And I to you, Eve," he admitted. "The terrible thing is that we can't let ourselves feel that way.
Our only chance of survivin' this war is to consider ourselves already dead. Either that or stop fightin' an' try to hide out somewhere safe till it's over."
She nodded an wiped her eyes again. "The coward's way out," she whispered. "Neither o' us could live that way either—that would be worse than death."
"Then don't—for Voot's sake—don't get attached to me." he said earnestly. "Not in the middle of this madness, anyhow. Otherwise, you're liable to end up dead." He shut his eyes for a moment, silently grinding his teeth. "And," he added presently, "though I'm not attached to you either, by the Universe if I'm still alive when this war ends, I will be then." He smiled while she blew her nose again.
"But in the meanwhile," he whispered behind his hand, "I'll be glad to take your clothes off for you—anytime you'd like."
This time, she smiled a little, too. "You'll do mare than just that, won't you?" she asked.
"Try me," he said.
"I will," she promised, "next time we're together. An' the next time after that, too. Whenever you want me. Just be careful, Wilf Brim."
Brim glanced up as the driver stepped into the lobby. "I'm coming," he called across the lobby.
Then he looked at her in the display. "You be careful, too, my beautiful friend—and may Fortune smile on your every move."
"Smile, my foot," she whispered with a wicked little smile. "I want him right here between my legs."
"I'm not so sure Fortune's a male," Brim broke in. "But leave that part to me, anyway."
"Mmm," she said, blushing visibly. "Yes, you, er, certainly, ha' a certain talent in that department,"
"Those great legs help a lot," Brim replied with a nod to the driver, who was now actively indicating the door with his head. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to go now."
"Thanks for being there," she said softly.
"Thanks for calling, Eve," he replied.
She blew him a kiss and the display went dark.
It took the driver nearly two metacycles to pick his way through the six c'lenyts of rubble-strewn streets to the Admiralty— normally a fifteen-cycle drive. Avalon would never be the same again....
Before he was called on to speak at the meeting, Brim discovered that the huge raid had reawakened invasion jitters throughout the High Command and Onrad's War Cabinet. In Hagbut's view, the tremendous disrupter bombardment was merely a softening-up operation. Calhoun, on the other hand, was not at all certain that he agreed. In fact, his judgment was that with the new direction of the war, luck had at last smiled on the hard-pressed Empire.
"Egad, man!" Hagbut barked out, clearly horrified by the Fleet Commander's point of view.
"Can you see what's going on out there? By Universe, those bloody Leaguers are now blindly slaughtering innocent civilians right and left—even children! Have you no feelings at all?"
Calhoun stood with a grim look on his handsome face, and ignoring the Emperor completely, glowered down at the bantam General—who inadvertently shrank back in his chair.
"Yes, General," he answered quietly. "I ha' seen outside. The methodical Leaguers ha' noo switched their attacks from my vital FleetPorts to the cities below," he said. "An' you needn't tell me aboot human sufferin'," he continued. "In the short run, it's clearly been increased a thousandfold. But the important point is not the short run—wars aren't won in the short run. That suffering is not in vain, for in the long run, Orgoth's switch to attackin' the cities means an end to any chance that Triannic's Deep Space Fleet can achieve space supremacy by shuttin' down our FleetPorts. An'," he added significantly, "that very supremacy is vital to any invasion plans the Leaguers might have. In other words, gentlemen," he said, looking over the two tables of men and women seated in the small, underground conference room, "today, we have begun winnin' the war!"
After the meeting, Onrad separated himself from the circle of high-ranking staff officers and ministers who normally surrounded him at the door and took Brim by the arm. "Valuable input, this morning, my Carescrian friend," he said, leading the way down a corridor, "although it's a damned shame you had to be shot down to get those insights. You lose many of the crew?"
"A little less than half. Your Majesty," Brim said. "And three of them were killed helping out in the city last night after we crashed."
Onrad nodded. "I heard about your orders after the crash," he said. "Those people of yours—they did a lot of good. So did you and Barbousse."
"Thank you, Your Majesty," Brim said.
"Once again it is I who must thank you, Brim," the Emperor said. "You and those people you ordered into the flames were seen by a lot of people. More than you—or they—can imagine. Most people were afraid to come out of their holes. But because of the risks you and your crew took, literally hundreds of people in that devastated area know that somebody official cares about them. That's terrifically important, for there were far too few municipal firefighters to go around last night. And a number of them were hurt or killed doing their duty, so we won't be able to muster even that many tonight."
"And there will be a raid tonight," Brim added.
"According to the latest BKAEW reports," Onrad said "the first waves are on the way even as we speak." By that time, they—and a hundred nervous-looking bodyguards, it seemed—had emerged from a tunnel onto one of the city streets nearby the Admiralty.
Everywhere around them there were red-eyed, filthy men and women clearing debris from the previous raid. They stopped in their tracks and stared as the Emperor peered at the destruction. Then, suddenly they began to cheer. "Long live the Emperor!" they cried as if they were embarrassed for him to see the devastation in which they stood. "Long live Onrad the Fifth!"
Brim struggled to keep his emotions under control. By the Universe, he thought as tears of pride burned his eyes, the Leaguers would never tame these people. Never.
Suddenly, at his side Onrad put his military cap on the end of his scepter and twirled it around in the air, bellowing, "Are we downhearted?"
The Avalonians replied with a rousing chorus of "No!" and "Never!"