THE HELMSMAN: Director's Cut Edition Read Online Free Page B

just to be accepted as living beings. And the very weapon Imperials always used was a person's own temper. He shook his head, painfully rehearsing his meeting with Amherst for the thousandth time when a mighty pounding rattled the door to his cabin. “Wilf Ansor, my new friend, come! Now is the time for libations in the wardroom, eh?” In all his twenty years, Brim could not remember a more welcome sound.
    Now, late in the last watch of the day, the wardroom was dim with hogge'poa smoke and crowded by people who had clearly collected from all over the base. Brim picked out uniforms of spaceframe structure masters, logic boffins, and a whole cadre of Imperial officers — many with impressive ranks. Most of the latter wore insignia from other ships. And beautiful women! They were all over the room. Some young, some not so young. His eyes had just fallen willing prisoner to an artfully tousled head of golden curls and soft expressive eyes when Ursis returned with two largish goblets of meem — and another Bear in tow.
    “Come, Anastas Alexi,” Ursis called to the smaller edition of himself. “Let me present new Helmsman just reported in. Wilf Ansor, you must meet glorious engineering officer, and my personal boss, Lieutenant A.A. Borodov!”
    Borodov grasped Brim's hand in a firm hirsute paw. “Brim?” he exclaimed. “But I have heard of you — greatest Helmsmen of all in latest Academy class, is it not so?”
    Brim felt his face flush. “I am pleased to meet you, sir,” he stammered.
    “Ah-ha!” the Bear exclaimed, turning to Ursis triumphantly. “Blush gives him away, would you believe?”
    Ursis chortled heartily. “All's dark when snow flies blue, eh?” They both laughed.
    “Well, Wilf Ansor,” Borodov rumbled on. “Many of us have looked forward to flying with you at helm. Tonight we shall drink toasts to your Carescrian ore barges.” He placed a paw on the chest of Brim's uniform. “I myself started Drive work on same star beasts, eh? Many years before you were little cub.” He chuckled. “Destroyers should prove easy work in comparison, believe me.”
    He turned suddenly and caught the arm of a dainty lieutenant. “Ah, Anastasia,” he said. “You must meet our new Helmsman, Wilf Brim!”
    “Beautiful woman here is Anastasia Fourier — weapons officer, Wilf,” Ursis added with a wink. “So small for such large job... “
    “Big enough to bruise your shins, you chauvinist Bear,” Anastasia said as she bussed his furry cheek. Her face was almost perfectly moon shaped with wide-set eyes and heavy, pouting lips. She had a high-pitched voice and talked at such a rate that Brim marveled she could make herself understood at all. Her Fleet Cape revealed just enough in the way of curves to assure Brim that great intrinsic worth lay beneath. Her wink made him believe that much of it might, under proper circumstances, be readily available. “If this is the kind of company you keep, Lieutenant,” she squeaked, “I shall have to keep a close eye on you, and the sooner the better.” Then, suddenly as she appeared, she was swept away giggling on the arm of a smiling commander. He wore the insignia — if Brim's eyes didn't lie — of a battlecruiser.
    Ursis touched his ann. “When you stop drooling, friend Brim,” he said, “I want you to meet our Dr. Flynn — keeps us alive and moderately healthy despite all efforts to contrary.” The Medical Officer was short, fair, and balding, with a reddish face and quick smile. His uniform was also — noticeably — standard issue.
    “Xerxes O. Flynn at your service,” he said with a wide-eyed leer. “You look terrible.”
    Brim flinched. “Pardon?”
    Flynn shrugged. “I need the practice, Brim,” he said with mock seriousness. “These Bears keep the crew so filled with Sodeskayan wood alcohol nothing has a chance to get started.” He cocked one eye and stared in the direction of Brim's ear. “You certain you haven't brought some sort of epidemic