"If they can stand me, I can probably stand them," Brim assured him.
Flynn nodded, again over his shoulder. "All right," he said, "come on in."
Brim heard a door slide open on quiet rollers. Directly, Ursis and Barbousse appeared on either side of the Doctor, grinning from ear to ear. Both wore heavy bandages. "Remember now," Flynn warned sternly, "only a couple of cycles. Then out you go."
The Bear looked down at Brim with one eye (his other was hidden by a patch), fang gems flashing the soft light. He cocked his head toward the Doctor. "Flynn here can be great nuisance when he wants," he said. "Is this not so, Starman Barbousse?"
The big rating's face reddened. "Well, sir," he said, "he does appear to do passing good work. Ah..."
He peered down at Brim. "Glad to be seein' you, ah..."
"How about 'alive'?" Brim suggested. "And speaking of that, what happened to you two?"
"Oh," Barbousse said lightly, "them Cloud League scalawags didn't take kindly to Lieutenant Ursis' fake fit there in the K tube—what with all his rollin' around on the deck an' all."
"And you piling in for good measure," Ursis chuckled with a toothy grin. "As they say on the Mother Planets, 'When Hagsdoff scratches rock, Bears move snow houses out of sunlight,' eh?" He nudged the big rating in the ribs with an elbow.
"Oh. Ah...aye, sir," Barbousse answered with a confused look. "Hagsdoffs."
Flynn's eyes met Brim's, then rolled toward the ceiling. "Hagsdoffs," he repeated.
"You were both great, "Brim piped up to stifle an oncoming chuckle. "Even if you did almost get me killed."
"Sure glad you made it, Lieutenant," Barbousse repeated. "If you hadn't done what you did, we'd likely be startin' an all-day night shift at some Altnag'gin hullmetal mill."
"Not all of us," Ursis interjected with a dark growl.
"I heard," Brim said. "The bastards..."
"At any rate," Flynn interrupted quickly. "You two did show up here for a particular purpose, didn't you?"
"Yes, that we did," Ursis answered, turning to Brim with a serious look on his face. He narrowed his eyes. "Someday, Wilf Brim," he said, "I shall properly thank you for all you did for us. Not now. But I want you to know your bravery would be legend, even in my homeland." He shook his head, momentarily a long way off. "Meantime," he said, turning to Barbousse, "you give it to him. You found it."
Barbousse's cheeks went red again, but he looked Brim in the eye. "Ah, I, ah, c-copped this on the way out of the corvette," he stammered as he lifted a big side-action blaster into the startled Carescrian's right hand. "Tried to return it to Lieutenant Ursis, but he wouldn't take it back;"
"We agreed you should have it," Ursis thrust in. "It belonged to my grandfather—a man of great gallantry. You will honor it, Wilf—and him, rest his spirit."
Brim opened his mouth in surprise. "I...Oh, Universe, Nik," he exclaimed emotionally, "I can't take that."
"Sorry," Flynn interrupted, "but if you people are going to argue, these two will have to leave—which they are going to have to do soon anyway."
Brim shook his head in defeat, tears of emotion burning his eyes. "Thank you," he choked when he was able. Not eloquent, but all he could manage.
"You are most welcome, Friend Brim," Ursis said with a huge grin. "And before this very inhospitable medicine man rescinds his tenuous welcome, I have something else here for you—from no less a personage than Bosporus P. Gallsworthy."
Brim raised an eyebrow. "Gallsworthy?" he asked incredulously.
"None other," Ursis said. "As your boss, he has collected all messages sent to your person since you last accessed your queue."
"And?" Brim asked. "Nobody sends me anything but debit notices."
"Don't remember Gallsworthy handing me anything like that," Ursis said, a look of ill-concealed merriment in his eyes.
"What else could it be?" Brim asked, genuinely mystified.
The Bear laughed. "This," he said, handing Brim a small plastic card. "Hard copy of personal message from Gimmas Haefdon. Thought you might want to see it straightaway."
"For me? I don't know anybody On Gimmas Haefdon. I didn't even get there until two nights before we..."
"Hmm," the Bear replied. "Perhaps it is a mistake. But I think not. Read...."
Frowning, Brim took the card, turned it to catch the light—his heart skipped a beat. Four short lines of poetry from the ancient pen of Sante' Eremite blazed from the tiny page. The power of the simple words transcended centuries; he'd read them often: "My fire burns among the stars/My long lance thrusteth sure,/My strength is as the strength of ten,/Because my heart endures." One more line completed the short message: "Congratulations, Wilf Brim." It was signed simply, "Margot Effer'wyck."
CHAPTER 4
More than two Standard weeks passed before Brim's weakened body accustomed itself to its brand-new parts, but the day finally arrived when Flynn dismissed him permanently from Truculent's sick bay—with strict orders to go cautiously until more of his strength returned. Now, only cycles after pressing the Doctor's hand in heartfelt thanks, he was at last back inside his tiny cabin, seated on the edge of his bunk and accessing the ship's message system. He cycled his pitifully small mail file three times—eight messages in all, only one sourced from "Effer'wyck@Gimmas."
He immediately brought this one to his display, which filled with loose golden curls and a frowning smile. Margot! He thrilled while the image recited Lacerta's timeless lines in a soft, modulated voice.
She'd be proud of that voice, he reflected, and wondered how he'd managed to miss it before.
Far too soon, the little message ran its course. He played it again—and then again. He rotated the display and watched her from every angle. She might be far beyond his reach, but that didn't stop him from dreaming!
With a sigh, be finally sent her message to his permanent storage, then selected a note from Captain Collingswood. Voice only, this requested he "drop by" her office to file a verbal report whenever he felt "up to it." He took care of that immediately, appending his name to her appointment schedule just after the next change of watch.
The remainder of his messages, save one, were all debit notices.
His single exception was a short communication from Borodov containing a cross-reference to the prestigious Journal of the Imperial Fleet. "A most valuable article, Will Ansor," the shifting patterns read. "You must file this with your most important documents. Good as credits in the pocket, perhaps better. (signed) A.A. Borodov."
The Journal? With a frown, Brim fetched Borodov's reference to his display. Characteristic patterns in the style of the highly venerated publication replaced Borodov's covering message, then indexed to a small article almost lost toward the back of the issue. It was clearly little more than filler placed during a time of little important activity elsewhere, but it was there nonetheless: Gimmas Haefdon (Eorean Blockading Forces) 118/ 51995: Carescrian Sublieutenant Will Brim, recently graduated Helmsman assigned to Lieutenant-commander Regula Collingswood's I.F.S. Truculent. (DI) T.83, see other reports, this issue), distinguished himself recently off the Altnag'gin periphery during a single-handed action which resulted, in destruction of the corvette commanded by Kirsch Valentin, infamous young Prefect with five Imperial kills.
As Borodov suggested, he carefully filed the reference on his permanent storage, grinning in spite of himself. Strange, he reflected, how much that little bit of recognition meant to him. He'd been such an outsider since he joined the Fleet under Lord Wyrood's Admiralty Reform Act. It took only this insignificant crumb of acknowledgment to make him feel a lot less like one.