Not until he arrived in the old city did Brim begin to understand why he could settle back comfortably in the midst of this milling confusion when he'd felt so restive in the ordered calm of Tarrott. It was because vibrant Gromcow, in all its disordered hubbub, was a city of warm, living individuals, whereas Tarrott, in the final analysis, was a city optimized for machines—and sentient beings who behaved more like components of a system than flesh-and-blood people.
Abruptly, just as it had earlier changed from country to urban congestion, the surroundings once more underwent a transformation. Teeming streets gave way to apartments, then to light industry, and then once more to sparsely populated fields and woodlands. Centuries before, a smog-and-haze-clogged Gromcow had decreed that all heavy industry would move to satellite towns, thus at least diluting (if offering no further improvement of) the atmospheric pollution that seemed to go inexorably hand in hand with efficient industrialization.
It was still snowing heavily, but the busy lanes of the right-of-way were clearly marked by hovering globes that kept traffic flowing as smoothly as if it were a midsummer day. In no time, a vast complex of factories emerged through the driving snow, and the chauffeur exited along a broad thoroughfare leading through towering stands of evergreens. On the far side of the trees, they drew to a halt on a wide courtyard just short of three massive gates that were clearly a main plant entrance. Above the center portal, huge Sodeskayan characters spelled out KPOCHBL-II3TY—Krasni-Peych. The courtyard was patrolled by what looked like a full brigade of soldiers with formidable Khalodni N-37 blast pikes slung over their shoulders. Immediately, two Lieutenants in high, black boots, olive green greatcoats with royal blue epaulettes, and billed military caps, also trimmed in royal blue, strode purposefully to the car while subordinates looked on attentively, their six-fingered hands slipping nearer to their weapons. Ursis opened his window and exchanged words in Sodeskayan with one of the officers, then handed him a large envelope closed with the Great Cachet of the Knez. Gesturing respectfully, the Lieutenant unsealed the envelope and withdrew six holobadges, two of which he handed to his partner for the drivers. After peering assiduously at each of the backseat's occupants, the Lieutenant suddenly grinned, bowed deferentially, and, handing back the badges, waved them toward the gates with a smart salute. A few moments later, the big limousine was on its way through the huge complex between high buildings with massive doors; great, circular gravitron towers hundreds of irals in height, topped by multifaceted crystal globes, and connected at various levels by intricaie bridges; numerous funnel-shaped structures that appeared to be wrapped by a layer of thick crystal tubing that glowed and pulsed in varying colors; as well as ordinary office buildings whose warmly lighted windows gave glimpses of laboratories, libraries, and offices. Presently, they drew to a hover above another snow-covered apron, this at the end of a long Becton-type gravity-cushion tube, commonly used by starships in place of water for hard-surface landfalls. Above the cooling fins of its power terminus hovered a sleek NJH-26 star launch—a Sodeskayan executive transport renowned throughout the galaxy for its elegance and speed. Moments later, the three were walking through the blizzard, snow crunching under their boots as they made their way toward the little ship's glassed-in brow. On either side of the tube right-of-way, evergreens stood out in dark emerald against the snow and clumps of tall birchlike trees formed tangles of long, white fingers against the cloud-darkened sky. With his new badge bobbing from the collar of his greatcoat, Brim found himself walking as all Gromkovites walked in winter, hardly lifting his feet, almost sliding them over the surface, balancing at every step, and treading solidly without slackening his pace. In the muffled silence of the snowfall, he wondered idly if so much ice and snow ultimately affected the posture of everyone in the city.
Inside, the cabin was comfortably warm and paneled in dark wood. Deep-cushioned sofas lined the walls with four Bear-sized easy chairs at each corner. Soft, indirect lighting illuminated a sumptuous lunch set out on a low table equipped with an expressing apparatus that filled the air with delicious aromas from freshly brewed cvceese'.
"Help yourselves, gentlemen," the blue-clad AkroKahn Helmsman called through a forward hatch that opened onto the ship's flight bridge. "It's a short enough trip out to the Ivan Ivanov that you'll have to do some serious eating."
"Thanks, Kovonchino," Ursis answered. "We shall do our best." Then he turned to Brim with an embarrassed smile on his face. "We laid on a few snacks," he said.
"Yes," Borodov seconded. "In case you might be hungry after your travels."
"Or us," Ursis added with a sly grin.
Brim was about to answer when the entrance hatch whined shut and the Helmsman warned, "Switching to internal gravity!"
In panic, Brim tried to forget the nearby food as his stomach turned upside down and he clamped his teeth together and held his breath. No matter how many thousands of times he'd gone through switches to or from internal gravity, he'd never overcome his tendency toward a weak stomach at the transition point, even though weightlessness bothered him not at all. Forcing back his gorge, he swallowed mightily, then gasped in a great draft of air. "Ah," he stammered, sinking queasily into one of the aft easy chairs, "you two go ahead and start. I'll just sit here for a few moments while I get back my space legs..." Scant cycles later, they were hurdling along the Becton tube—while Borodov wolfed down his second Kagle sausage.
The Ivan Ivanov was not at all what Brim had expected—in actuality, it was two starships, the old Sodeskayan merchantmen Sovaka Doynetz and Nadya Gordovsky, joined amidships by a network of great hullmetal girders. On the port-bridge wing of Gordovsky, Borodov pointed through a Hyperscreen to a large pod mounted in the center of this network, braced by additional beams and spars like some sort of monster insect caught in the center of a web. "There it is, Wilf," he said, "—the new PV/12 starship Drive. K-P has toiled over the design theory for nearly ten Standard years now; it took the Mitchell Trophy Race to put the project on a front burner."
"They've started calling it the 'Wizard,'" Ursis added with a grin. "Everyone expects great things."
Brim nodded thoughtfully. "We may need some magic to keep up with next year's Gantheisser," he said, "at least if what that bastard Valentin says has any truth to it."
Ursis frowned and peered through the Hyperscreens. "I suppose we shall have part of that answer in a few moments," he said with a sage nod.
Outside, clamshell doors swung slowly open in the forward end of the pod, exposing hefty focusing rings.
Behind them was a typical HyperDrive blast tube. Space radiators mounted along the finned side of the pod were beginning to glow reddish orange as super-Tesla coils pumped enormous power to the new Drive crystal. Ivan Ivanov was traveling at a fast cruise; when the K-P engineers fired off their new Drive, it would thrust forward, against the mass and momentum of the two old merchantmen. To Brim, the whole thing served to drive home the terrific force and power that would be at his command on the bridge of Valerian's new starship. He shook his head. "Awesome," he muttered to himself. He meant it.
Presently, a pattern of twelve powerful strobe beacons began to flash at the same time a klaxon horn clattered on the bridge. "The count has begun," Borodov warned, looking up from a situation display at his elbow.