In due time, the personnel carrier rumbled to a hovering stop before a stately portico of ten ornate pillars that fronted a circular stone building topped with a high, age-discolored dome. Carved two-story wooden doors provided street-level entrance through the weather-stained walls.
"You'll find the Colonel in there," Brim heard the driver shout to Barbousse over the noise of the traffic, "and may the Universe spare you both." He laughed, then Barbousse slammed the hatch shut and the L-181 lurched into the thundering flow of traffic amid an angry blare of warning clicks from the other vehicles. Deciding to ignore the overheard warning for a time, Brim silently led the way up a broad stone staircase toward the massive doors. Under the weather-stained portico, they proffered their orders to four white-gloved guards, then stepped inside under the dome where Barbousse audibly gasped with awe.
The whole structure enclosed one grand circular room lined in polished, flawlessly white stone. Elegant inlays divided the curving walls into four quadrants, and on each of these, great carved murals depicted heroic struggles between winged men dressed in ancient-looking body armor and tall, eight-legged creatures with lancelike fangs. Above these, the dome glowed from hundreds of circular doors set into its very plates, and a huge sword dangled perilously, point down, from a curious ornamentation at the very apex. The floor—swarming with people running in all directions—was constructed from the same white stone as the walls and was arranged in three concentric circles, the inner two raised and surrounded by a strange carved-metal balustrade. Aisles ran straight from the mural-covered walls to a circular altar centered on the inner circle. This was presently occupied by a figure in the tan and red battle dress of the Imperial Army.
"D' you suppose that's Hagbut?" Brim asked with a shrug.
Barbousse grinned. "I'd bet on it, Lieutenant."
"I'll be back in a cycle or so, then," Brim said, and started up one of the aisles.
He was no more than a few irals past the first balustrade when he was intercepted by a pink-looking civilian administrator who looked very much out of place in his ill-fitting battle suit. "Your orders, Lieutenant," he demanded officiously.
Brim silently handed over his card for inspection—which was accepted as if it bore some shameful disease.
"You may approach the Colonel," the man said after a long pause, indicating the figure at the center of the room with a pained nod of his head.
Brim's eyes met Barbousse's for a moment; then he was on his way. As he climbed the second alabaster staircase, an ornate nameplate became visible on the surface of the desk. Self-powered and multicolored, the clearly expensive device flashed:
Colonel (the Hon.) Gastudgon Z' Hagbut, Xce, N.B.E., Q.O.C., Imperial Expeditionary Forces (Combat).
The mustachioed figure behind the nameplate was a small, intense-looking individual of middling years who spoke as though he disliked showing his teeth. His left collar wore distinctive crossed blast pikes, which identified him as a graduate of the prestigious BDM-38 Darkhurst Academy, a close neighbor of Avalon itself. Likewise, his clearly custom-tailored battle suit and mirrorlike boots spoke of considerable wealth—wielded by a man to whom the act of commanding probably came as a natural inheritance. His red-veined face further revealed him as an officer of quick temper or little patience or (more probably) both. As Brim approached, the man's coarse gestures to a cowed-looking subordinate gave substance to Barbousse's earlier warning that the undersized field officer was known as a "cod'dlinger" (a uniquely Narkossian-91 reference to excretory organs of a local slops-yard scavenger). "I'll be sure to keep that in mind," he had assured his companion, "but I'm not sure I'll be able to do anything about it."
"YOU THERE!" the Colonel roared in a voice that sounded as if his mouth were open a great deal wider than it appeared. He motioned imperiously to Brim. "OVER HERE! ON THE DOUBLE!"
Brim ran the last few steps, then saluted (smartly, he hoped). "Lieutenant Wilf Brim, I.F. reporting as ordered, Colonel," I he said, gazing politely up at the huge sword dangling from the center of the dome.
"Certainly not a moment too soon," the Colonel rumbled I irately. "Where have you been?" He sat back with a sour look on his pinched red face. "You Fleet types are so worthless," he observed at length, spitting noisily over the balustrade. "WELL?"
Brim remained at attention. "What can I do for the Colonel?" he asked in a respectful voice, still staring at the sword.
"You mean you don't know?"
Brim swallowed his embarrassment, sure every eye in the room was laughing at him. "No, sir,"' he said, looking the Colonel in the eye for the first time. "I don't."
"Universe," the Colonel sniffed, spitting over the balustrade again. "Well, I suppose I shall have to tell you, then—mind you, it won't be the first time I have covered for your organization's INCOMPETENCE!"
Brim spied a wiry little sergeant standing on the second ring about ten irals behind the red-faced officer. The man winked and rolled his eyes toward the sky—it helped somehow.
"HERE," the Colonel shouted, gesturing Brim's attention to a display globe that suddenly materialized over a portable COMM pack. It pictured the eight captured disruptors Brim had watched being loaded aboard Prosperous. They were now resting lifelessly on the ground. "You are to take command of those League fieldpieces," he snorted. "Lost all eight of my regular crews in a shuttle accident last night. Can't trust you Fleet types to get anything right, can I? At any rate, I knew you've all been trained to fire a disruptor. It's probably all you can do."
Brim felt his jaw drop open. "Colonel," he stammered, "I have a lot to learn about League disruptors."
"Well, you'd better GET BUSY!" the Colonel bellowed "because those eight vehicles were starlifted all the way from Gimmas Haefdon especially to protect my portion of the mission from league armor.
They were my idea—League vehicles will be nearly invisible to counterattacking forces looking for Imperial equipment. And all eight of those fieldpieces will move out precisely two metacycles from now.
UNDERSTAND?" He shot a pair of elegant battle cuffs, then raised his eyebrows as if he were reassuring a hopelessly dense child. "This is A BRILUANT INNOVATION, and you will be PROUD to have been instrumental in its trial run."
Brim could only stare wide-eyed and silent in disbelief.
Hagbut frowned for a moment, stared closely into Brim's eyes, then grimaced. "You really don't know anything about the job we summoned you down here for, do you?"
"No, sir," Brim assured him. "I do not."
Hagbut laughed aloud. "I'll bet those drafted IGL people never let you in on a xaxtdamned thing, did they?"
"They said I'd receive my orders from you, Colonel," Brim replied flatly.
Hagbut regarded him bleakly. "Wonderful," he muttered.