"S'at what happened, Commissioner?" the woman asked deferentially. "A malfunction, like? We thought that..."
"Humph. Just what did you think, madam?" Gallsworthy demanded loftily.
"Um, we thought that, um... the dark 'aired one 'ere was out joy ridin', Commissioner," the woman explained, pointing at Brim. "We're gettin' awful complaints from when 'e flew under the bridge, we are.
Scared the bevoots out of a whole tramload o' tourists. Couple o' 'em even jumped in the canal."
"Certainly preferable to his crashing into the bridge," Claudia asserted. "Better to soak a few tourists than dump a whole tramload into the canal—along with the tram—I should think."
"No question, Madam Claudia," the other officer agreed, knuckling his forehead. "We 'adn't no idea 'e was in trouble."
His partner kept a grudging silence, but her eyes showed little accord with his words.
"Of course you had no idea," Gallsworthy conceded grandly. "Humph. You were only doing your jobs—and doing them splendidly, I might add." He inspected his fingernails for a moment. "In fact," he went on presently, turning to address the woman exclusively, "I might even cause a personal memorandum of commendation to be placed in your Headquarters files extolling—humph—the great intelligence that you and your partner have shown in the handling of this potentially awkward situation. Do I make myself clear?" he demanded, fixing the woman with a cold stare.
"A... a commendation?" the woman asked in sudden astonishment.
"My own personal commendation, Officer," Gallsworthy said. "Now do I make myself clear?"
" M-most clear, Commissioner," she stammered with a deep bow. "My partner and I are honored, indeed," she added, this time almost reverently.
"Very well," Gallsworthy said, even more imperiously than before. "On your way, then. The letters will be sent with today's dispatches."
"Thank you, Commissioner," the officers recited in almost perfect unison. Then they saluted and quickstepped the way they had come, shoes glistening in the sunlight.
Clearly, Brim thought, Commissioner Bosporus Gallsworthy had garnered considerable power and authority since his days nearly six years ago aboard old I.F.S. Truculent. Brim kept his silence and waited for someone else to continue.
Gallsworthy broke the silence again, but only after the Security skimmer had started up and was actually gliding along the apron toward the run-up area. "Claudia," he ordered quietly, pointing to the T-29, "have this little beauty towed to Repair and completely dismantled by technicians you can trust to discover something appropriately wrong. Humph. After our friend Brim's display of aerobatics this morning, everyone's going to have questions—from Atalanta's city fathers to the head of my own Security Department."
"At once, Commissioner," Claudia replied, drawing a communicator from her purse. She turned toward the little trainer and began whispering instructions.
Glancing wryly at Moulding, Gallsworthy shook his head and indicated Brim with a casual toss of his thumb. "As I said when you burst into my office grumbling about Townsend," he chuckled, "that idiot wasn't about to make serious trouble for ol' Wilf, here. This madman is trouble—always has been, always will be, so far as I can see. We've needed someone around here like him for a long time—to keep things stirred up, a little. Humph."
"I think I understand," Moulding agreed with a twinkle of humor in his eye. "Wilf," he said, extending his hand. "I look forward to working with you—not only for your renowned Helmsmanship, but because I think we are probably going to be good friends."
"Not so fast, you two," Claudia broke in, replacing the transmitter in her purse. "Wilf hasn't accepted the job yet. He doesn't even know what it pays. Perhaps after his morning with Townsend he won't want to work here." She placed her hands on her hips and looked Brim in the eye. "How about it, Wilf?" she asked. "I think these gentlemen are taking quite a lot for granted; don't you?"
Brim felt his head spin. So far, this hadn't turned out to be the most entertaining morning of his recollection. "Well..." he started gallantly.
Gallsworthy frowned and nodded. "Humph. I suppose she's right, Brim," he interrupted. "I apologize for that. The position's at a Lead Helmsman's level—roughly First Lieutenant's pay. And—humph—yes, I did put you through a bit of difficulty this morning—but then I had to."
"Oh?" Brim demanded with a raised eyebrow.
Gallsworthy nodded. "Brim," he said with a serious face, "from what I could discover after some—humph—discreet inquiries, you were—in my mind—showing signs of what the veterans' organizations euphemistically call 'adversarial hostility.' Without the sugarcoated words, it sounded very possible that you'd built up so much anger you weren't fit to be a military Helmsman anymore—and you'd have had damned good reason, young man. You faced more than your share of rotten luck." He grimaced, then shrugged. "So I made you fly with the greatest simpleton on the base. The way I looked at it, if you could still pilot a ship after taking the garbage I knew he would dish out, then you were all right." He nodded toward Claudia with a wry look. "Humph. I could have saved us both the trouble, had I listened to this one—or a number of other people whose help you'd spurned over the last couple of years. They never lost faith in you, Brim—but I don't think the inverse is necessarily manifest, is it?"
Brim shook his head. The anger was there, all right. It was all his; he'd placed it between himself and the Empire he'd once served. Never again could he blindly love authority as he once had; there were too many scars, now. But for the first time he was beginning to realize that he had also somehow managed to extend that same animosity to his more fortunate friends as well. And as a result, he had doubly suffered when he failed to accept the help they offered. "I-I should have done some listening, too, I'm afraid," he admitted in a low voice.
Claudia touched his forearm. "That part of your life is over now if you choose, Wilf," she said. "Will you join us?"
Blinking back tears that threatened to burst from his eyes, Brim nodded and turned to Gallsworthy. There were no questions or conditions. "I'll take the job, Commissioner," he said quietly, covering Claudia's hand with his for a moment before he released it, "gladly." Then he shook his head ironically. "And I was so xaxtdamned proud of the way I could handle an axe..."
Gallsworthy chuckled quietly. "If I ever catch you flying like that again around my base," he said, "I may take one of those axes to you."
Brim looked up with a little grin. That was more like the Gallsworthy he'd once known! Glancing at the man sideways, he frowned. "Surely not if I am victim of still another malfunction, Commissioner," he replied, fluttering a hand over his heart with a look of righteous bewilderment. "You wouldn't ask me to risk my life, would you?"
Gallsworthy shook his head as they started for the Headquarters building. "Xaxtdamned Carescrians," he chuckled to no one in particular. "Humph. There's no living with them at all.. ."
During the weeks that followed, Haelic passed from summer into the clear, crisp days of autumn while Brim saw the return of his old confidence. In deep space, he quickly established himself as one of the base's premiere Diagnostic Helmsmen, although he often found his piloting talents (as well as his courage) stretched as much by untried starships as they had been by Leaguers during the war years. And much closer to the ground, after a frosty evening's ride on his gravcycle, a honey-blond flight dispatcher wasted no time proving that his troubles with Margot had been only transient—beyond the shadow of a doubt.
Even Townsend checked out of his life by accepting a permanent change of station to Avalon where his CIGA contacts would be more politically valuable.