Ursis quietly ambled across the room and placed his hand on Brim's shoulder. "Wilf," he said emotionally, "there is no way I can refute your complaints. They are true. But, as you know so well, there are no guarantees concerning this life—only that it goes on toward eventual dissolution, carrying with it most of the inequalities that have existed since the dawn of history. What remains important, then, is that we get on with what we do, all of us. Old comrades once more need your help. And this time let me assure you beyond all shadow of a doubt that you, as well as your talent as a Helmsman, are absolutely necessary."
Brim shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment. "I don't doubt you, Nik," he muttered. "It's just that I don't think that this bitterness will go away that easily. I'm doing all right working as a civilian here on Haelic. Sometimes, I even feel as if I belong among the people at work, no matter where I come from." He shook his head and frowned. "But what kind of future could I, a relatively shabby Carescrian, possibly have among people whose chief talent seems to be giving expensive parties?"
Borodov laughed. "About the same sort of future Nikolai Yanuarievich and I plan to have with these persons. You see, we are only consultants to the Society, not members. Of their new Racing Committee, only Regula Collingswood and Prince Onrad are actual members. The rest of the "Special Operations Staff," as we are called, are all hirelings—mere employees, and only temporary at that. If you sign on, the Society will simply 'borrow' you once in a while from the base here, and then friend Gallsworthy will bill the Society. You won't have to give up your new job—or even lose your seniority."
Brim felt himself involuntarily smile, in spite of his churning emotions. "Well," he admitted bleakly, "even a hard-core cynic like me can't complain much about a deal like that. What is it you want me to do?"
"Why don't we come by for you first thing in the morning and take you to the meeting?" Ursis suggested, retrieving his greatcoat from a chair. "That way, you can talk directly to the people who are actually setting things up."
"Somehow," Brim said with a frown, "I have this uncomfortable feeling that the next part of my life has already been planned by someone else—behind my back."
"Someone else plan your life?" Borodov asked in mock astonishment while Brim held his greatcoat.
"Who would do a thing like that?"
"Hmm," Brim mumbled, following the two Sodeskayans outside as they strode toward a huge, chauffeur-driven Rill-21 limousine skimmer hovering discreetly at the curbside.
"See you soon, Wilf Ansor," Ursis called over his shoulder. "We'll be here for you at Morning: one-thirty."
"I'll be ready," Brim answered, sounding a lot more confident than he felt. Ready for what? Then he grinned. His life was clearly about to destabilize all over again, in rapid order. This time, however, the whole process might just prove to be entertaining.
CHAPTER 4
Grand Admiral Kabul Anak
The ISS held its conference at the sumptuous Grand Koundourities Hotel in the heart of the Atalantan business ring. An imposing structure of great apparent age, Brim had been past it countless times, but never inside. Strangely enough, it was old Borodov who seemed to be most familiar with the magnificent hotel. "The Grand Koundourities," he commented as the limousine skimmer approached through heavy, early-morning traffic, "is the largest and oldest civilian structure on all of Haelic, as I recall. It was completed for the fifty-first millennium celebration here in the Standard year 49999." Elegantly dressed as he was the previous evening, the Bear pointed toward the massive stone building's domed central tower.
"During the early five tens," he continued, "it held one of the earliest KA'PPA beacons in existence, and for decades was recognized throughout all known space as the 'Haelic Light.' You can still see the KA'PPA's twelve supports—they look like ornate minarets. Emperor Vargold Narrish IV took his course bearings from that beacon during his early explorations of the Korrellean Sector. And speaking of famous historical figures, it was in 51489 I believe, that Professor David Lu appeared in the main lobby to present Atalanta's City Directorship with his latest Hypercrystal, the basis for all of today's Hyperscreens. Not only that, but here's still another interesting fact," he added as the chauffeur brought them to a halt under the grand portico. "Did you know that the Grand Koundourities was once used as a giant brothel?"
"A brothel?" Brim asked, getting out and peering around with a grin on his face. "Sure doesn't look like one now."
"Nevertheless," Borodov went on with a grin, "it was at one time. Seems that the Garomptar of Pathipett once found himself stranded in Atalanta with his huge star yacht disabled and scarcely an Imperial credit to pay for repairs. Luckily, some three hundred of his most seductive wives were also aboard for his pleasure. So, before word of his financial straits became generally known, he hastily moved his harem into the Koundourities here, took out numerous ads in the local pleasure media, and within three months he'd earned enough to cover the girls' rooms and his starship repairs, with a handsome profit left over for his own private coffers." He laughed. "It's said that the girls loved it. They were normally required to remain faithful, and one imagines that even a very strong man could have made the rounds no more than five or six times a year."
"Universe," Ursis whispered reverently.
"How does he know all that?" Brim asked Ursis as they made their way past a veritable army of colorfully uniformed doormen, through a set of gigantic beveled glass doors, and into a bustling indoor court with marvelously high, arched ceilings that reminded him more of a nicely finished starship hangar than a hotel lobby.
"Baxter Calhoun owns it," the younger Bear explained as if it were common knowledge throughout the Universe. "He wanted Anastas Alexyi and me to stay here, as his guests."
Brim stopped in his tracks, stunned by the Bear's words. "Baxter Calhoun owns this?" he asked in astonishment. "You mean our Commander Baxter Oglethorp Calhoun? Of I.F.S. Defiant ?"
"The same," Borodov assured him. "I thought you of all people would know, especially since he's a fellow Carescrian."
Brim shook his head. "He never let me in on much of anything but a lot of good advice," he answered.
"But how come you two didn't take him up on his offer to stay here?" he asked.
"If anyone around this hotel knew I was Calhoun's guest," Borodov laughed, "I wouldn't be able to endure the fuss they'd make. Besides," he laughed, "my gamekeeper tells me the beds here are much too soft for old Bears like me."
"And I," Ursis laughed, "simply followed suit. It was easier."
"I see," Brim chuckled absently, stopping to peruse the window of a media shop while Borodov and Ursis checked at the information desk. He shook his head. During his year aboard I.F.S. Defiant, he'd certainly guessed that Calhoun was a wealthy man. But he'd had no idea how wealthy.
"Wilf—you're here! The Bears got in touch with you," a familiar voice called from nearby. Brim whirled around just in time to be captured in a wild embrace by Regula Collingswood, his onetime commanding officer on two fine warships.
"Captain Collingswood," he exclaimed, wrapping the woman in his own arms. "How wonderful to see you again!"
"The name's Regula, Wilf," she admonished, smooching him on the cheek, then stepping back for a better look, "or hadn't you noticed that I'm no longer wearing a Fleet cloak."
Brim grinned. "I noticed, all right," he said. In civilian clothes, it was plain to see why she had so completely captured the heart of her husband—and whispered longtime lover—Admiral Erat Plutron.