Then he busily applied himself to composing Margot's answer—no easy task, he discovered to his surprise. When he scanned his books of verse for a fitting line or two, nothing seemed to fit, though a number of the same poems seemed perfect when he first thought about them in the solitude of the sick bay. He made a second pass—then a third—before settling down for a detailed search. Shortly before his appointment with Collingswood, he had completed only two books with three-quarters of a third remaining to be studied. So far, nothing even resembled his requirements. In the end, he decided he might easily spend years without finding the proper words. Shaking his head ruefully at the time he had already wasted on the project, he quickly chose a few lines that approximated his thoughts, composed a short covering message of thanks, then sent everything on its way before he could change his mind again.
That out of the way, he smooothed his tunic, brushed his boots on his bunk cover, and made his way forward to the captain's cabin, one level above his own.
"Sit down, Wilf," Collingswood said as she relaxed in her chair. Subtle harmonies insinuated themselves from the cabin background: soft instruments blending, separating, then blending once more to form emotional tapestries of surprising beauty. He seemed to recall the same sounds from his first visit to her cabin, but they hardly registered then. "The last time I saw you," Collingswood was saying with a twinkle in her eye, "you appeared to be rather soundly asleep."
Brim grinned. "I seem to have been doing a lot of that lately, Captain," he answered.
"Almost a permanent condition, from what Dr. Flynn tells me," Collingswood declared, her face becoming serious. "I watched Ursis and Barbousse carry you in from the corvette. You'd been rather thoroughly worked over by Valentin and his crew—you evidently caused a bit of trouble during your short visit there."
"I tried to, Captain," Brim said. Collingswood laughed quietly. "I'm quite certain you did, Lieutenant. But I shall need to know a bit more than that," she asserted. "I am required to file an official report, you know."
Brim felt his face flush. "Sorry, Captain," he said. "I didn't understand." He stared at his boots, reflecting for a moment, then rubbed his chin. "So far as I can remember," he began, "this is what happened after we spotted that corvette..." For the next metacycle, he described what he had seen aboard the enemy warship, including his own activities when he felt they had any relevance.
Collingswood sat relaxed in her recliner while he spoke, interjecting occasional questions or clarifying certain points. When he finished, she recrossed her legs, frowned thoughtfully, and looked him straight in the eye. "Strange," she mused, "how much like your shipmates you have become. None has mentioned Lieutenant Amherst so far—nor his part in this little adventure of yours. I wonder why."
Brim frowned. In the seclusion of the healing coffin, he considered himself ready for questions about that part. Now all his confidence seemed to dissipate like smoke. He fumbled with a loose fastener on his tunic. "Well," he uttered, groping for something to say, "I can't speak for the others, of course. I was alone most of the time we spent aboard the corvette, Captain."
"I see," Collingswood said, brushing aside a stray lock of hair. She studied the fingernails of her right hand. "Would you," she began, "make any further comments were I to ask you for information concerning alleged incompetence on the part of Lieutenant Ursis?"
"In what context, Captain?" Brim asked warily, not yet willing to meet her eyes.
"Why, in the context of his attempts to alter the control settings of the Cloud League merchantman Ruggetos, of course," Collingswood answered, her expression suddenly cold as space itself.
Brim took a deep breath and met her gaze squarely. "In that case, Captain," he said evenly, "I should probably have a great deal more to say."
"Would you testify, Lieutenant?" she continued, sitting well forward in her recliner, elbows firmly on the armrests.
"If it came to that, Captain, you can bet I would testify," Brim answered. He waited for an explosion—both she and Amherst were clearly Imperials of no mean station, and in his experience, Carescrians didn't usually get away with taking stands, no matter who was in the right.
As if considering her next words, Collingswood remained for a moment staring into his eyes. Then, suddenly she relaxed and sat back in her recliner, smiling broadly. "You have joined my old Truculent, haven't you, Brim?" she pronounced. "I rather thought you'd have little trouble doing that once you it started."
Brim blinked. "Pardon?" he stammered.
"Protecting Amherst the way you are," Collingswood explained. "You're already part of my crew."
She laughed quietly. "In rather record time, too."
Brim kept his silence, unsure of where she was leading him. "You probably wonder what I plan to do about him, don't you, Lieutenant?" she went on, holding up a graceful hand. "His part in the loss of that merchantman was easy enough for me to piece together—and caused you considerable difficulty and pain. You deserve an answer."
Brim nodded his head noncommittedly. 'Thank you, Captain," he said simply.
"I shall not rid the ship of him," she said with no further preamble. "Because Amherst is a powerful name throughout the Fleet—and other reasons which have nothing to do with either of you—he shall have one more chance, at least." She smiled and shook her head. "No one ever said life would be fair, Lieutenant. In spite of what Amherst might really deserve, I shall not commit political suicide to secure his punishment—though I shall attempt to insure he is never again in a position to cause so much harm should he fail a second time."
Brim nodded again. At least she was honest.
"And no record of Amherst's report will ever find its way into your friend Ursis' records." She glanced at her empty display, then grimaced in an unmistakable sign of dismissal.
Brim got up to leave.
"Your report was first rate—as were your actions, Lieutenant," she added. "You weren't thinking of returning to bridge duty immediately, were you?"
"Not for two more days, Captain," Brim answered.
"Dr. Flynn knows best," Collingswood said as her display began to fill with data.
Brim left feeling, a lot better about his future than he had ever dreamed possible. So long as the Fleet had a few Collingswoods, Carescrians still had a chance.
The endless succession of days that followed were notable only by their sameness until danger and boredom became two great stones which ground Truculent and her crew alike. And all around, the larger war waxed and waned. Victories and defeats—there were still more of the latter, but one could sense an occasional ray of hope among the grim news KA'PPAed in from powerful transmitters halfway across the galaxy.
To Brim's utter astonishment, his abbreviated answer to Margot's note established a lively—if disappointingly chaste—correspondence. During the long stretches of boredom, he often argued with himself concerning that. After all, any kind of treatment was more than he should ever expect. She was, aside from being promised to someone else, a person of noble blood. Very noble blood. And a full military rank above his own into the bargain. What more could he expect?
Sometimes this sort of logical approach worked. Sometimes it didn't. But most of the time, it didn't.