Dressed in even heavier greatcoats than they had worn on Atalanta and laden with a number of large boxes, the two Sodeskayans stopped him at the door to his stateroom. Their choice of clothing gave Brim pause to wonder if his old heated raincoat was indeed going to keep him from freezing to death in the winter hemisphere. After all, both Bears also wore natural fur coats under their clothing.
"Aha, Wilf Ansor," Borodov exclaimed, beaming from ear to ear. "It is high time you visited the G.F.S.S. I have been looking forward to this for many years now!" With that, he dumped his armload of packages on a nearby settee and hugged Brim until the Carescrian nearly feared for his life.
The other Bear laughed, taking Brim's hand and pumping it vigorously in the Imperial manner. "Anastas Alexyi is not the only one who has anticipated your visit with great expectations. We have much to show you."
"About Holy Gromcow as well as our new StarDrive," Borodov interjected with a smile, releasing Brim so he could breathe again. "Both are magnificent," he added, "but only Gromcow is glorious as well."
"And cold enough at this time of year to turn you into furless icicle," Ursis said, picking up Brim's worn raincoat. He scratched his head for a moment, checking the coat's environmental controls. "This is what you brought?" he asked.
"It's all I've got," Brim replied.
"Well, it would serve," Ursis judged, nodding his head professorially, "—but when in the G.F.S.S., one should wear what Sodeskayans wear, to coin a phrase. Is that not correct, Dr. Borodov?"
"Indeed," Borodov agreed. "And it is to that end that we have brought these," he stated, indicating the packages on the settee. "We have a chilly excursion to make presently. It will be well if you are dressed warmly for it."
Frowning, Brim began to explore the boxes. They contained a slate-colored greatcoat with huge silver buttons and high, soft boots much like Ursis's; a huge, egg-shaped hat to match the one on Borodov's head; heavy gloves; and a long, woolen scarf of bright crimson. "How in the Universe am I going to pay for all of this?" he asked, turning to his two friends. "In fact, how am I going to pay for that first-class upgrade to my ticket?"
"You aren't," Borodov declared, as if the answer were so obvious that it hardly rated consideration.
"Well, somebody's got to pay for gear like this," Brim protested hotly. "Remember, I took thermodynamics in school, too, and there is no free lunch. Anywhere in the Universe."
"True," Ursis agreed. "But nothing in the laws of thermodynamics forbids the giving of gifts in a spirit of true friendship."
"But..." Brim countered.
"No buts about it," Ursis said, scowling suddenly. "I thought we had discussed such nonsense in Atalanta." He shook his head. "That xaxtdamned pride of yours, Wilf Brim, will someday yet overwhelm my good humor."
Brim turned to Borodov, but the old Bear only nodded his head sagely. "One can give without loving, Wilf Ansor," he said, "but it is impossible to love without giving." Then he smiled. "Nikolai Yanuarievich and I simply had no choice."
Brim took a deep breath, and clasped their six-fingered hands in his. "I am probably hopeless, my friends," he said, looking from one to the other, "but I am also surely grateful. This outfit is magnificent."
"Plus," Ursis said with his usual grin, "it is also warm. Your furless self will most likely appreciate that even more than the friendship before this visit is over."
Gromcow, itself—Holy Gromcow—had existed in one form or another since the beginnings of recorded Sodeskayan history. And indeed, the modern city grew like a tree in concentric rings from its ancient core: the Great Winter Palace, now home of Nicholas the August, present Knez of the G.F.S.S. and arguably the mightiest noble in the Empire of Greyffin IV. Not that the outward growth had been smooth or even steady. Great fires, wars, and occasional revolutions constantly stirred the skyline, so that in any district one might encounter a mix of modern, ancient, and nearly anything in between. The miracle of the city was that it all fit as aesthetically as it did.
Tomoshenko Memorial Starport was located on a huge, artificially heated lake outside the city. This was fed by the wide Gromcow River that bisected, a considerable distance upstream, the austral quarter of the Old City Center and ran through the grounds of the Great Winter Palace.
The terminal itself could only be described as cavernous, with brilliant lighting, rich decoration, and an extravagant use of marble with mosaics that set a standard of opulence seldom approached in the galaxy.
Brim walked in awe through the gleaming and spacious edifice, wondering why he perceived no arrogance in the design of this grossly overdone station, as compared to the one in Tarrott. Smiling foolishly at his own parochial outlook, he followed his two Sodeskayan friends outside to a huge limousine skimmer emblazoned with the Great Imperial Seal, where two massive, smiling chauffeurs waited to take them to the research center on the far side of the city.
Brim found that approaching Gromcow was a series of pleasant surprises: one moment the big limousine was in gently rolling countryside, spinning past snow-covered fields and wintry, bare woods populated by cozy log cottages trimmed with elaborate fretwork; the next moment, thick clusters of elegant apartment houses loomed beside the right-of-way, their grounds filled with young Bears playing happily in the driving snow. The transition from country to city was abrupt indeed.
After a few blocks, the right-of-way evolved to paved streets, jammed with steady streams of pedestrians as well as all manner of vehicles. The buildings in this section were contemporary, constructed of gleaming metal and glass in angular shapes of towers and columns, all connected by fantastic networks of graceful crystal bridges. Interspersed with the buildings were parks, filled with statuary and Bears, as well as people from every race in the galaxy; this was also the embassy ring. Here and there, the crowds parted to make way for groups of young Bears of both sexes marching raggedly behind banners and singing boisterously. Colorful trams of two and sometimes three streamlined cars glided through the snow-covered squares, bells clanging as pedestrians darted across the roadway in front of them. Even archaic wheeled carriages drawn by huge Sodeskayan droshkats—an unusual breed of nonflighted gryphons-rumbled over the cobbles, easily keeping time with the superbly congested traffic.
By the time their limousine reached the inner ring of the city the throngs had become a bobbing sea of kerchiefs, caps, and wooly monstrosities like those that Ursis and Borodov habitually wore. Everything here spoke of the many golden ages of Sodeskayan art, music, and literature. Within its historic streets were Gromcow's lavish art galleries, most of its famous Bearish theaters, the galaxy-famous Conservatory of Music, and countless monuments to the titans of Bearish literature. Wherever the pavement narrowed, as it did often in this oldest section of town, the imperturbable pedestrians spilled onto the streets. Fascinated, Brim spotted villagers shuffling along in belted smocks among splendidly dressed executives swinging briefcases. Between breaks in the crowds, he glimpsed shop windows, filled with commodities from all over the galaxy. Colorful posters hung from every lamp post, portraying Bearish servicemen dressed in greatcoats and battlesuits. There were no CIGAs in Sodeskaya—the G.F.S.S. was one of the few Imperial dominions that had ignored Triannic's Treaty of Garak, in spite of heated orders from the Imperial Admiralty. The Sodeskayan high command merely changed the device everyone wore on his headgear, renamed all services as numbered divisions of a nebulous "Home Guard," then continued to reinforce their defenses as before. It was another example of the very loose ties between Knez Nicholas and his so-called dominant government in Avalon—although many believed that Greyffin IV himself privately applauded the Bears' independent action.