"Who'd they set up in her place?" Brim probed with a sick feeling in his stomach, "Not Rogan, I hope!"
"It seems that's the story," Moulding said with a grimace. "He's Grand Duke, now. I decided perhaps you might rather get the story here, rather than inside." He frowned. "I suppose I'm butting too far into your life—perhaps you'll forgive me just this once. I know that you and Anna Romanoff have a pretty wonderful thing going, but at one time..."
Brim nodded bitterly. "Poor Margot," he whispered, more to the cold wind than to his friend.
"She gave everything to prevent this. And now she's become part of the enemy."
"More like a prisoner, in my book," Moulding observed.
Brim snorted grimly. "Yeah," he sighed. "When you get right down to it, I suppose she is." He shook his head and stared down at the gray, windswept puddles.
"Anything I can do?" Moulding inquired.
"No," Brim said, managing a smile. "I think I'll run a little more. But thanks for the offer—and the information. It was damned thoughtful of you."
Moulding nodded and started back toward the laboratory. The rain had started again while they talked, and the temperature seemed to be dropping by the cycle.
Brim didn't return for another two metacycles. But when he did, he'd managed to achieve a sort of peace with himself. And a real appreciation for what Anna Romanoff had done for his life.
Two weeks before the Mitchell, Avalon became one great, frantic party. High summer and fair weather had temporarily banished the pall that had settled over the galaxy after Triannic's nearly bloodless coup in the Torond. Brim especially sensed a turn of spirits—since Anna Romanoff had been in residence more or less steadily for the past month and a half. Sleepily relinquishing a warm, still occupied bed in her town house, he had only just stepped to the curb to wait for an early crew car when he heard footfalls close behind him. Whirling instinctively, he found himself facing two hefty figures dressed all in black and wearing face masks. Two more moved into position at his back, cutting him off from the street—and it was clear from the beginning that none of them was much interested in his health, at least his good health.
Only audacity and reflexes saved him. He straightaway kicked his closest assailant in the face, smashing the man sideways into his partner and providing himself a momentary opening through which he leaped onto the damp cobblestones, whirling to face them in a fighting crouch. "All right, you bastards," he growled angrily, "come and get me."
At that very moment, a skimmer turned the corner and started up the street, its headlights burning away the early-dawn gloom. Brim heard the vehicle suddenly accelerate while three of his assailants broke into a run. But one—smaller and much slimmer than the others—only froze for a moment as if considering what to do, then pulled a nasty looking dart gun from inside his jacket.
Brim dove headlong for the weapon, just as the man aimed it in his direction, but even a Helmsman's reflexes and superb training couldn't beat a trigger ringer. In mid-leap, he heard the weapon fire and felt a stunning pain explode in his neck at almost the same moment as the skimmer slid to a halt. Moments before his face hit the pavement, a huge figure rushed past him in the direction his assailant had fled. And while his vision faded to blackness, the gruff voice of Borodov roared in his ear, "Wilf! For the love of Voot—speak to me!" Then, there was nothing....
He regained consciousness with a splitting headache in the Sodeskayan embassy. He knew immediately where he was; Bear beds were big. Besides, Ursis and Borodov were both towering over him in full Sodeskayan regalia while Anna Romanoff sat cross-legged at his side in her bathrobe, holding his hand. Opposite, two more Bears stood with very serious countenances. One wore the uniform of a Sodeskayan Guardsman; the other, dressed in a formal business suit, placed a cool, six-fingered hand on Brim's forehead. "How do you feel, Commander?" he asked in that profound demeanor the Universe reserves solely for physicians.
Brim managed what he hoped was a confident wink to Romanoff, then peered up at the Bear. "I have the grandfather of all headaches, Doctor," he replied with a little grin. "But aside from that, nothing else feels wrong."
"A bad headache, you say?"
"I shall need a new head if it doesn't go away," Brim replied.
The Sodeskayan grinned. "Aha," he said, raising his furry eyebrows. "Then we shall make you a true Sodeskayan, eh?" He looked over at the three opposite him. "Friends," he said, "would this human not make a handsome Bear?"
"Handsome indeed!" Borodov declared. "But Anna, how would you feel about such a thing? A Bear's head on Wilf Brim?"
"If that will make him well, it will be fine," Romanoff declared firmly, drawing her bathrobe closer around her neck.
Brim felt her squeeze his hand. "When can I get up, Doctor?" he asked.
The Bear thought for a moment. "Does this mean you wish to forgo a head transplant?" he asked.
"Well," Brim replied, "I suppose my headache isn't that bad. But it is passing kind of you to offer."
"In that case, Commander," the doctor said with a smile, "you can get out of bed whenever you feel comfortable doing so." He pursed his lips and began to pack some small instruments into a metal carrier. "The dart did little physical damage," he continued, "but it contained a very powerful poison. Had it not been for the fortuitous arrival of Doctors Borodov and Ursis, you would likely now be in a morgue. My colleague from Gromcow immediately recognized the odor of Gamma-Zondal, venom of Sodeskayan crag wolves. He therefore rushed you here to the embassy where I, as luck would have it, possessed the antidote. A normal Avalonian hospital would never have diagnosed your condition in time—which I believe your assailants realized. You are a fortunate man indeed. But then, your friends here have been busy during your period of unconsciousness. They have some interesting words for you while I rejoin my wife for a tour of your beautiful capital."
"Doctor, how can I ever thank you?" Brim called out as the Sodeskayan physician turned and strode through the door, but Ursis gently placed a hand on his lips.
"When you win the race, Wilf," he said with a wink, "you can buy us all a drink at the victory celebration and we'll be even. Is it... how do you say... a deal?"