She was a statuesque woman, tall and ageless with a long, patrician nose, piercing hazel eyes, and soft, graying chestnut hair that she wore in natural curls. She was dressed in a lavender business suit fronted with a great cascade of white ruffles. "You look wonderful," he added—as indeed she did. An extraordinary starship commander during the war, Regula Collingswood had never, even for a moment, let the power of her station interfere with the basic femininity that shaped everything about her personality.
"That's better," she said in mock severity, then took the elbow of a slender, attractive young woman standing beside her, holding a briefcase. Brim felt a momentary excitement when the woman's enormous brown eyes met his and paused with fleeting interest before she turned toward his old commander.
"Wilf," Collingswood said, "You must meet Anna Romanoff—quite an extraordinary person—who has taken on the position of Secretary for the Imperial Starflight Society. Anna, this is the man I have been talking about for weeks."
The woman extended a warm, manicured hand, and again momentarily captured his eyes before she spoke. "I am pleased to meet you, Wilf," she said formally, in a soft voice that had just the slightest trace of some regional accent he couldn't identify. "Regula has said some rather wonderful things about you."
Her satiny, reddish brown hair was parted in the middle, then gathered into a loose braid at the back of her head. She was small, Brim noted—very attractive, with a distinguished nose and slightly pouted lips.
Clearly a businesswoman in every respect, she was outfitted in a light tan dress with a scooped bodice beneath which she wore a white sweater that hinted of an ample bust. Her modest skirt revealed very little of what Brim suspected were shapely legs, and she wore low-heeled business shoes. A sexy woman by nature, he conjectured, who was determined to do business in spite of that. He found himself holding the softness of her hand somewhat longer than he'd planned, and smiled in spite of himself when he let go.
"The Captain—er, Regula—tends to embellish the truth about her former crews," he said.
"Somehow, I doubt that," she answered softly. "Regula also warned me that you are modest to a fault."
Then, before he could react, she turned to Collingswood. "I shall meet you after lunch at... Brightness: one-thirty. That way, we shall have time to go over your numbers again before the General Assembly.
Delighted to have met you, Wilf," she added, nodding toward Brim at the last moment. Then she hurried off across the lobby with a peculiar little prance that Brim found most attractive—and feminine.
"Quite a lady, there," Brim said, impressed, for some reason, out of all proportion to their brief introduction.
"Yes," Collingswood said. "We were lucky to find that one. With her reputation for no-nonsense business management, she's in demand all over the Empire. I think she took the job out of pure patriotism. Voot knows she works every moment of her life." Then she peered at him oddly. "She's pretty, isn't she?"
Brim nodded and grinned at his old commander. "She is that," he agreed, "and she has a cute way of walking, too."
Collingswood frowned for a moment, then smiled in an odd way. "I suppose that's true," she said, as if she had just made some sort of decision, "Anna does have a cute way of walking." She had an almost motherly look on her face as she spoke, if indeed anything about the former starship captain could be construed as motherly. To Brim's recollection, he had heard her mention childbearing only once—as being the best advertisement for birth control she could think of.
"Ah, Regula—here you are!" Borodov exclaimed as he pushed his way through the throng. "Nikolai Yanuarievich," he called over his shoulder. "We no longer have to find them; they have found us!"
Soon, all thoughts about Romanoff were swept away by a second joyous reunion in the lobby, with Collingswood hugging and being hugged by the two magnificently costumed Sodeskayans in a manner that badly disrupted cross-lobby traffic with onlookers.
And what little traffic movement that remained was promptly shut off completely by the appearance of Crown Prince Onrad, heir to the Imperial Throne at Avalon and present Chairman of the Society. Even had he not joined an already noisy reunion, his magnificent blue Fleet cloak—that of a Vice Admiral—would have stopped traffic anywhere. He was slightly taller than Brim, and considerably heavier: a comfortable looking man of obvious royalty. His hair was dark brown and he wore a short, pointed beard with a moustache. In Brim's way of thinking, however, it was the man's eyes that set him apart. He had a way of looking at people that bespoke genuine honesty. The Carescrian had grown far too skeptical to believe that any monarch anywhere could afford to make totally equitable decisions much of the time. Politics simply got in the way of such things. But he nevertheless trusted that the Empire would be in capable hands when one day Onrad ascended to the High Throne in Avalon.
"Aha!" the prince said with a wide grin. "I might have known the four of you would find each other." He too got a long hug from Collingswood while the Bears bowed respectfully at either side. "Now this is what I call a welcoming committee," he whooped over his shoulder to a stiff-looking General dressed in the tan and red uniform of Greyffin IV's Imperial Army. The imposing officer had stopped with his gray briefcase a regulation eight paces to the rear. "Next time, Zapt, see if you can't set up something more along these lines."
Lieutenant General Zapt, who clearly had no sense of the moment whatsoever, bowed and clicked his heels. "I shall see what can be arranged, Your Majesty," he said, his voice just audible over the bustle of the crowd.
With one arm still around Collingswood's waist, Onrad extended his hand to Brim. "Good to have you back among us, Brim," he said, with his usual firm grip. "You worried quite a few people when you disappeared a while back."
"I'm sorry, Your Royal Highness," Brim said, feeling his face flush with embarrassment. "I'd reached a difficult time in my life about then."
"I take it everything's all right now?" the Prince asked pointedly.
"Everything is now excellent," Brim answered.
Onrad pursed his lips impassively and nodded. "General," he commanded, "will you deliver that letter for Mr. Brim?"
A moment later, General Zapt stepped forward and delivered a gray plastic envelope to Brim's hand, then quickly returned to the background. His face was an expressionless mask, but alert, gray eyes betrayed the soul of a battle-hardened trooper.
"From an old friend of yours—my cousin Margot," Onrad explained impassively. "I visited her last week in Rudolpho."
Brim's heart leaped nearly from his chest. "H-how gratifying that she should remember me," he said, struggling to contain himself from ripping the envelope open there in the lobby.
"That is nice, Wilf" Collingswood said with a sudden look of concern in her eyes. "You two certainly became fast friends when we were stationed on Gimmas-Haefdon years ago. I understand she and Baron LaKarn have a son now." She shook her head. "Never could understand what she saw in that stuffed shirt."
Onrad laughed wryly. "She didn't have much choice in the matter, Regula. Father dictated the whole thing to keep Mama LaKarn's Torond and its celecoid quartz Drive crystal kernels more closely bound to the Empire. They control half our supply, you know."
"That's what I'd heard," Collingswood said with a grimace. "Poor Margot."
"We all have some burden to bear," Onrad said, glancing perceptively at Brim for a fleeting instant.
"Margot's tends to be heavier than most." Then he took a deep breath. "Enough of that sort of thing.
Regula, Borodov, Ursis—have you three talked Brim into joining us yet?"
"We only just found him last night," Ursis said with a grin.