Bill Baldwin - Helmsman 6 - The Siege

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Questar* is a registered trademark of Warner Books, Inc

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Imperial Standard Date: 32 Diad, 52013.

Prologue

Outfitted in snug, Bearish finery, complete with requisite egg-shaped hat to cover his ears and

add at least an iral to his normal six-iral height, Rear Admiral Wilf Brim, Imperial Fleet,

grinned with pure pleasure as the elegant troika sped him through a dazzling Sodeskayan blizzard.

Traditionally known as a "love sleigh," the rare antique was drawn by three shaggy black droshkat

thoroughbreds loping effortlessly over tile powdery snow—the center 'kat trotting in shafts while

the other two, loose save for long traces, padded along like ebony ghosts. The three great animals

set hundreds of tiny bells to rhythmic jingling from their burnished harnesses, producing melodies

from a thousand years in the Sodeskayan past. Only cloud-muted thunder from a lifting starship

momentarily spoiled the illusion that the sleigh was racing through the planet's rural

countryside. Tomoshenko Memorial Starport on artificially heated Lake Demyansk lay a mere thirty

c'lenyts to spinward from the sprawling Borodov estate. And the capital of all Sodeskaya, "Holy"

Gromcow, unfolded along a riverbank only twenty c'lenyts farmer on.

2 I BILL BALDWIN

THE SIEGE I 3

To Brim's left, Grand Duke Anastas Aiexi Borodov snapped his whip and joggled the reins with the

exuberance of someone half his age. Driving a Sodeskayan troika was a special art, for the driver

was required to stand—no mean feat for a Bear of Borodov's years. As a true yamschik, he was

privileged to wear a special badge: two bright orange za-vencock feathers protruding from the

right side of his hat.

On Brim's right, massive General Nikolai Yanuarievich Ursis, galactic-class Drive engineer and (in

rare years of peace) dean of the renowned Dytasburg Academy, puffed contentedly on an intricately

carved Zempa pipe as chalky trunks of ancient, somnolent birches whizzed by on either side of the

narrow rustic lane. Stumps of frost-burned azalea and skeletal dogwood protruded from the snow,

half screening bare stands of oak and poplar behind them.

This was Sodeskayan winter at its old-fashioned best—if not its most genuine.

Despite the quiet tranquillity of the late afternoon, however, Brim found it all too easy to

recall the savage conflict— now generally referred to as the Second Great War—that was spreading

rapidly throughout the Galaxy. He'd personally had a hand in turning back the League's first

barbarous assault against his own homeland.

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Now, only a few thousand light-years from this great capital, Nergol Triannic's League of Dark

Stars was assembling an even greater invasion force than the one he'd arrayed against the Imperial

capital of Avalon. In the balance was the huge agglomeration of stars, planets—and wealth—that

made up the colossal Sodeskayan heartland. Commanding the vast invasion force was none other than

Field Marshal Rodef nov Vobok, with fat Admiral Hoth Orgoth—recently humbled during the Battle of

Avalon—in charge of space operations. This time, the Leaguers meant to take no chances for

failure. Brim knew—he'd literally had to fight his way to the Sodeskayan capital....

Less than three Standard Days out of Gromcow and scarcely half a metacycle into a blustery morning

watch, he had been sitting in a jump seat on the navigation bridge of the fast Sodeskayan liner

Alexasander Grobkin, conversing—in Avalonian—with Captain Peter Nesterov and Chief Navigator T. P.

Stefanovski. At a warning from their Helmsman, the three peered through the aft Hyperscreens

toward three fast-approaching points of light that moved at an oblique angle to the normal rush of

stars. Suddenly, an au-thenticator system filled the bridge with its mewling alarm— its coded

KA'PPA challenge to the three mysterious ships had not been properly answered. To port, disrupters

on their lone escort, a little 26,000-milston Smetlivy-class attack ship named Gordi began to

index and swing like an athlete flexing his muscles.

"So," Nesterov remarked emotionlessly, "Leaguers again, eh?" Tall, ruddy-haired, and endowed with

the huge, droopy whiskers common to natives of Sodeskaya's frigid Hargov-ian-Sector planets, the

Bear was a very senior captain of the Sodeskayan flag carrier AkroKahn.

"League national industry is war, it seems, Captain," Stefanovski replied as flashes from the

Leaguers' ranging shots sparkled brightly among the onrushing stars. A small, dark Bear from

Gromcow proper, he had the nearsighted countenance of one who has spent most of his career staring

into a display. Moments later, the Hyperscreens dimmed momentarily as six or eight closely spaced

explosions rocked space nearly a c'lenyt to port. Stefanovski frowned into the wide-area star map

of his display and shook his head. "At least they are no better shots than their predecessors in

the last war," he said mordantly.

Brim chuckled grimly, thinking back on myriads of similar flashes in two separate wars over more

than twenty Standard Years—so many, they failed to arouse much fear anymore. They'd simply become

part of his existence. Only

4 / BILL BALDWIN

recently, he'd been one of a small band that repulsed the greatest siege ever mounted against a

single star system. Not that war ever got to be old hat, really. One was too busy trying to stay

alive for it to ever reach mat status.

He looked around the bridge, watching tension mount among the starship's Helmsmen, navigators,

systems officers, communicators, and the meager team of junior officers whose job was to command

the forlorn batteries of disrupters jerry-rigged to the sleek liner for wartime travel. The light,

rapid-firing 57-mmi twin-mounts were little more than child's toys against Leaguer attack ships,

but if nothing else, they gave the feeling of hitting back, though even a direct hit was liable to

do little damage.

"Bastards take their own sweet time," Stefanovski mumbled.

"Perhaps you are anxious for their arrival." Nesterov chuckled darkly. "For me, I could easily

wait until end of time."

Brim felt the Drive winding up and glanced aft, watching the Drive plume expand as Alexasander

Grobkin accelerated in preparation for the complicated, three-dimensional zigzag maneuvers that

would help her survive the attack—or at least cause the nearly impotent crew to feel mat they were

doing something in their own defense. Outside, a blinding Hyper-Flare went off, sending dazzling

incandescence through the great arch of Hyperscreens over the bridge. Groans came from everyone

caught with their eyes open before the crystal panels automatically darkened. The Leaguer's scout

ship—a Gantheisser GA 88, from its silhouette—actually eclipsed its own flare for a moment, then

disappeared ahead into the confusion of rushing stars.

Even Brim's eyes—more or less accustomed to flashes of disrupter fire from Avalon's recent

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siege—ached, so powerful were the flares. Then the stars outside canted wildly as the ship

abruptly climbed for her first zigzag, while their es-

THE SIEGE I 5

cort moved out to port for more fighting room. Brim clenched his fist, hating to be so xaxtdamned

helpless!

As if that thought had somehow triggered it, every one of me transport's pitiful little 57-mmi's

and the full complement of 130 mmi's aboard the Gordi opened up on two more greenish Drive plumes

that were now heading their way from aft. Another turn—the stars slid down and to starboard. "Now

comes attack," Nesterov said soberly as the plumes steadied on course toward the little attack

ship. "Seems Leaguer bastards have orders for escorts mis trip, eh?"

As the bridge crew yelled encouragement, Brim and Stefanovski soberly watched the battle unfold,

uselessly grabbing their annrests as another violent turn angled the stars across the forward

Hyperscreens. Now the three attackers were pressing home their attack on the Gordi, weaving

violently in the face of her fierce disrupter fire. At the same moment, the first two released a

HyperTorp each and turned away in a hail of roiling explosions. To Brim's eye, the deadly missiles

appeared to be running true as they rapidly narrowed their distance from the ship.

"Universe," Stefanovski exclaimed, glancing at the escort, which as yet had made no attempt to

dodge the torpedoes, "Gorki's not doing anything."

"Ah, her captain waits for last torpedo," Nesterov observed as Alexasander Grobkin zigged again.

"Will soon be too late," Stefanovski whispered through tight lips.

At the last possible moment, Gordi launched a decoy and the three HyperTorps wavered momentarily,

then changed course and exploded safely a half c'lenyt distant.

"Voof!" Nesterov gasped, glancing aft again. "Last Leaguer still on torpedo run, would you

believe?"

"His last torpedo must have hung up," Brim guessed.

"Ah," Nesterov agreed, "that must be so!"

Someone called out in Sodeskayan as the bridge filled

6 I BILL BALDWIN

with what had to be shouts of encouragement from the Sodeskayan gunners.

"Sweet mother of Voot!" Brim started. "The bastard Leaguer better break it off soon or—" Abruptly

he stopped in the middle of his sentence as Gordi scored a direct hit at point-blank range and the

enemy ship blew up in a roiling fireball that engulfed both attacker and defender.

"Is all over now." Nesterov groaned quietly.

When the Gordi emerged from the fireball, cries of horror filled the bridge. Two of her aft

turrets were gone, with the whole bow section of the Leaguer attack ship embedded in their place.

The wrecked escort slewed off course as a solid mass of radiation fire erupted from her hull and

she began to slowly fall behind,

It was Brim's all-too-real introduction to contemporary Sodeskaya and the trouble that had

befallen that great domain of planets since his peacetime visits there only a few years before the

war.

The Second Great War existed only as a name. More accurately, it was a logical extension of an

earlier, eleven-year struggle that had entered temporary hiatus thirteen years previously in

52000. That year, following a series of military reverses, the League's Emperor, Nergol Triannic,

suddenly abdicated his throne for the lonely planet of Portoferria, then proposed a peace treaty

and concomitant armistice until the treaty could be approved.

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Shortly following these critical events, the victorious Empire found itself divided into hostile

camps of war-weary rec-onciliationist groups and equally war-weary militants. Most

reconciliationists coalesced rapidly into the politically powerful Congress for Intra-Galactic

Accord (CIGA). Militants, however—comprising various military and veteran organizations—were still

required to focus the bulk of their efforts on such workaday tasks as securing the far-flung

bulwarks of

THE SIEGE / 7

Empire. They therefore steadily lost political influence at all levels, and subsequently, after

furious debate throughout the Imperial Parliament, the League's treaty—already signed by League

Emperor Nergol Triannic—was pushed through by CIGA Chief Puvis Amherst. It was formally ratified

on the neutral planet of Garak by men-Emperor Greyffin IV two days prior to the Year's End holiday

in Avalon, 52001.

Amid vociferous Admiralty protests and resignations, Imperial Fleet reductions, with resultant

base closings, began promptly in 52001 to rigid schedules prescribed in the new treaty. Each of

the former antagonists chose referees to oversee the other's disarmament progress. After two

successive Imperial Fleet reductions in 52002 and 52003, out-of-work veterans gathered for a

"March on Avalon." Most departed peacefully after Parliament vetoed cash bonuses recommended by

Greyffin IV; however, odier, more adamant veterans were forcibly expelled by special detachments

of Imperial Marines wearing the special CIGA flash on their uniforms and lead by CIGA-aligned

officers.

A further reduction in Fleet strength during 52004 completed Imperial disarmament requirements and

resulted in the smallest Fleet in the Empire's history. Half a galaxy away in Tarrott, Puvis

Amherst personally confirmed similar reductions in League strength, but the scattering of

starsailors who remained loyal to the Empire suspected the League's claims were little more than

fabrications. Unfortunately, a clamor of pacifist emotion sweeping the Empire—though ultimately

emotional and uninformed—was nevertheless politically unassailable. And while the League secretly

built a new and much more powerful fleet, the Empire continued to sink into impotency.

In 52005, culmination of a three-year study by the blue-ribbon Interdominion Reparations Committee

resulted in a report fixing League war liability at one hundred thirty-two billion credits, to be

indemnified during the next ten Stan-

8 / BILL BALDWIN

dard Years. Zoguard Grobermann, League Minister of State, promised that the Chancellery would

"take the sum under advisement," but no further action was forthcoming.

In 52006, the anti-League president of Beta-Jago, Konrad Igno, was assassinated by an unknown

murderer during the traditional midyear holiday interval in that dominion. League Minister for

Public Consensus Hanna Notrom denied any knowledge of the act, and soon afterward the League's

Supreme Council cynically enacted laws law forbidding assassination to prove once and for all

their peaceful intentions.

Early in 52007, exiled Nergol Triannic published his semi-biographical Vghost Niefft as a formal

declaration of proper League objectives. By Avalonian midsummer, League sympathizers annexed all

planets of the Gammil'lt star system at the request of the openly League-endorsing Chancellor I.

B. Groenlj. At year's end, CIGA elements in the Imperial Parliament itself passed the Cavir-Wilvo

Bill posing stringent limits on Imperial starship manufacture.

Soon after Standard Year 52008 began, exiled Nergol Triannic returned in triumph to Tarrott and

resumed the reins of League Government wearing the then-outlawed black uniform of the Controllers,

elite regiments of specially chosen soldiers from which he traditionally chose his personal guard.

Less than one month later, Conrad Zom, prominent intragalactic traveler and industrialist, was

found murdered after accusing the League of secretly expanding its Deep Space Fleet By midyear,

Triannic repudiated the League's reparations debt and reintroduced compulsory military service for

all League citizens. At the end of the League's Festival of Conquest holidays (Imperial Standard

Date: 2 Nonad, 52008), Controller forces entered and occupied planets of The Torond, enthroned

League sympathizer Rogan LaKarn as ruler, and proclaimed the "eternal" political union of League

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and Torond.

THE SIEGE / 9

Midway through 52009, Zoguard Grobermann and Hanna Notrom jointly announced League incorporation

of the Za-thian planetary system, as the result of a plebiscite. Soon afterward, • Nergol Triannic

issued a stern warning to the Dominion of Fluvanna concerning treatment of League citizens

dwelling on its planets.

Early in 52010, after CIGA-inspired frustration of numerous Imperial attempts to defend the

important Dominion of Fluvanna (supplier of nearly one hundred percent of the Empire's Drive

Crystals), Emperor Greyffin IV formed the Imperial Volunteer Group (IVG), "leasing" the first

eleven Starfury starships and their crews to Fluvanna for a year. Shortly thereafter, League

forces invaded and occupied the Dominion of Beta-Jago, ignoring protests from throughout the

galaxy. Two months later—on trumped-up charges—Triannic also declared war on Fluvanna, thus

supplying a spark that would eventually reignite war itself.

Until well into 52011, CIGAs throughout the Imperial Parliament prevented implementation of the

Empire's mutual-assistance treaty with Fluvanna. However, with abdication of Greyffin IV, Onrad V

became Emperor and declared war on the League even as IVG forces destroyed huge League space

fortifications at Zonga'ar and set Triannic's timetable for conquest back nearly a Standard Year.

Within a month, the new Imperial Emperor dissolved his IVG, ordering the battle-proven crews back

home to be scattered throughout the newly expanding Imperial Fleet in preparation for the

inevitable Battle of Avalon.

Wilf Brim—one of the first to join the IVG rolls and commander of the Zonga'ar raid—formed the

vanguard of this historic migration. Assuming command of 30 Wing, 11 Group, Home Fleet Defense

Command, on 205/52012, he hurled himself into a desperate effort to bring his crews and their

ships into readiness. His efforts paid off more quickly than anyone expected, and his command

played a key role in

10 / BILL BALDWIN

the defense of Avalon's five capital planets when the Leaguers prepared to invade only weeks after

their lightning victory over the Dominion of Effer'wyck. During the next six months of desperate

fighting, the badly outnumbered defenders managed to inflict such grievous casualties—in both

crews and starships—to the Leaguers that Triannic postponed the whole invasion program.

Now, with renewed fleets—and huge land armies that had gone unused since the fall of Effer'wyck

more than a year ago—Triannic was poised to launch his second campaign. And this time, he expected

success.

CHAPTER 1 The Ugly Truth

"I can't believe I need a parade uniform," Brim groaned, glancing over the array of clothing

Barbousse had laid out on the bed. "I'm supposed to be going on maneuvers in a battle crawler, not

to a three-day banquet."

"Beggin* the Admiral's pardon," Barbousse replied, "but m' instructions from the Embassy say you

may need that parade uniform a couple o' times before they bring you home."

"Hmm," Brim mused. Borodov had warned him of the same thing, and he was, after all, the Knez's

brother. "When do you suppose that'll be?" he asked, peering through the morning dusk at an

expanse of snow-covered gardens and statuary below.

"Couldn't get the times or the dates, Admiral," Barbousse replied. "But since the whole show's

being put on for the Knez, they're pretty certain to be when he wants."

Brim nodded resignedly. Only in Sodeskaya.... "Pack it all," he said in resignation.

"Aye, Sir," Barbousse agreed, and set to loading the single grip that Brim would consent to take

with him, despite the

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12 I BILL BALDWIN

THE SIEGE I 13

fact that many of the high-ranking Sodeskayan officers would be followed by at least three—each

double the size of its predecessor.

Brim checked the time. Since his days as a Sublieutenant aboard the old Fleet destroyer I.F.S.

Truculent, he had known both Borodov and Ursis to always be punctual, almost to a fault. "I'll be

in the study," he said, opening the dark oaken door that separated his suite of rooms from the

upstairs hallway. Descending the grand staircase two steps at a time, he presently emerged into

the immense central arcade of Borodov Manor, the "Gallery," where a young Bear— Borodov's great-

grandfather, Brim recalled—stared out from a portrait by Novar Sograve, arguably Sodeskaya's most

revered portraitist of the last millennium.

He paused for a moment, contemplating the portrait and the young, aristocratic Bear it had frozen

in time. Sograve's utter genius had captured the supreme confidence that characterized an age long

gone by—bearing no resemblance to the last two hundred-odd years of almost constant war, in which

lifetimes were frequently measured by how long one managed to avoid being killed. Brim's own

daughter, Hope, was being raised by a nurse because her mother had been blasted to atoms by League

disrupter fire only metacycles after she had given birth—in Avalon's Imperial Palace, no less. And

Margot Effer'wyck, the one abiding love of his life and a Royal princess in her own right, was now

a fugitive from her husband—Rogan LaKarn, Grand Baron of The Torond and a shameless League

sympathizer. The galaxy wasn't a very nice place to live in, presently, and offered little promise

of improvement, at least in the near term.

From the Gallery, he passed through another great hall and finally emerged into the vast library

with its colossal fireplace, lofty ceiling (surfaced by a priceless forty-eighth-century Rhodorian

trompe Floeil painting), spiral staircase, and

two-story bookcases filled by an enormous collection of ancient volumes, some with actual paper

pages.

Ursis was already seated in one of the ample leather chairs, puffing thoughtfully on a huge Zempa

pipe and filling the room with an aroma that most humans charitably compared with the redolence of

burning yaggloz wool. Even seated, the Bear was a most imposing figure. He had small, gray eyes of

enormous intensity, dark, reddish brown fur, a long, urbane muzzle that terminated in a huge wet

nose, and delicate, though hirsute, six-fingered paws. When he smiled—as he was doing

presently—fang jewels glistened in the warm light of the room. Tonight, he had dressed in the tan-

and-crimson uniform of the Sodeskayan Surface Army with gold-trimmed peaked cap, gold-buttoned

reefer jacket, white shirt, black tie, and black-leather ankle boots. Traditional Sodeskayan

shoulder boards—in gold—on his jacket were decorated by the twin wreathed stars of a Lieutenant

General, which were also applied to each cuff of his coat. Three rows of campaign ribbons beside

his left lapel attested to long years of fighting the League. A curious, starburst-shaped badge on

his right breast denoted onetime involvement in the Knez's Imperial Guard. "Voof," he said by way

of greeting, and indicated a chair beside him. "Next few days, Wilfooshka, you receive first

introduction to why Sodeskaya needs you so much."

*'On maneuvers, Nik?" Brim asked with a frown. "But even Leaguers admit that Sodeskayan land

forces are the best trained and equipped in the Galaxy. Everyone thinks they are unbeatable."

The Bear only nodded somberly. "Not everyone," he said.

"So you've been saying," Brim replied, "but I still don't understand."

"You will soon enough, Wilf Ansor," Borodov interposed, entering the room from a private passage.

" Trees and Bear cubs shiver in rhythm during springtime frolic,' as they say."

J4 I BILL BALDWIN

THE SIEGE / 15

He was dressed in a maroon version of Ursis's uniform, denoting the Sodeskayan Engineers, with

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three stars of a Colonel General on the black leather of his collars. More chestnut in color than

his longtime friend Ursis, Borodov was much older and somewhat bowed by his years, standing only a

little taller than Brim's six irals. His eyes, however, sparkled with youthful humor and

prodigious wisdom behind a pair of old-fashioned horn-rimmed spectacles. And although his graying

muzzle was not nearly so intimidating as that of his massive companion, enormous sideburns

provided him with a most intellectual countenance. "Considerable numbers of us Sodeskayans believe

..." He stopped in mid-sentence and walked to the bar, where he busied himself decanting three

large goblets of clearly Logish Meem. "No doubt," he mused, "it will be better you make up your

mind without our influence. You are, after all, big Fleet expert— not us. Eh, Nikolai

Yanuarievich?"

Ursis nodded to Brim. "Fleet aspect of maneuvers is why you are here, Wilfooshka," he said, "—or

more precisely, lack of a Fleet aspect." He shook his head sadly. " 'Only frozen mountains can

howl at moons in dead of snow season,' as they say."

Brim narrowed his eyes. The human had yet to be born who could understand Bearish aphorisms—and

the Bears seemed to know it. Yet they continued to quote from some clearly infinite source, as

they had since the first interstellar Bears met early interstellar humans in their primitive

spaceships. One simply learned to filter out the aphorisms and concentrate on discourse that did

make sense. "That bad, eh?" he asked, accepting a goblet of Logish Meem from his host "I suppose I

shall have to see for myself."

"As you assuredly will," Borodov promised, handing a goblet to Ursis. "But for now, is time for

civilized drinking, followed by much stick-to-ribs kind of sustenance necessary for surviving

primitive life on maneuvers."

Ursis looked up and frowned. "Primitive life?" he asked. "Aboard a battle crawler?"

The older Bear shrugged and grinned with mock sheepish-ness. "Well," he conceded, "perhaps is not

all that primitive. But one takes every excuse one can for hosting festive bash. Especially now,"

he said, suddenly becoming grave. "Who knows what tomorrow brings? Leaguers' coming invasion looms

large, in my view—and with it, much, much change in way we live." He settled into a chair and

stared into his gob-tet of meem. "//indeed we live," he added, nodding slowly.

"If indeed...." Ursis seconded.

In the reddish half-light before dawn, a gigantic government limousine skimmer—escorted by four

hulking troopers on gravcycles—thundered into the high portico of Borodov Hall and pulled to a

stop in clouds of powdered snow. While the household staff gathered in the cold to make their

farewells, the troopers dismounted and stood at rigid attention while both chauffeur and footman

jumped out to open tile passenger compartment and pack valises. Climbing into the giant skimmer's

passenger compartment with Ursis, Brim watched butlers, cooks, gamekeepers, droshkat keepers,

gardeners, and other principals of the manor file past Borodov, bowing, curtsying, and mumbling a

few words before passing on. He had visited the great Sodeskayan villa numerous times over the

years and had often seen the staff gather when Borodov went traveling. This morning, however,

something was elusively different. The love these servants had for their master was very much in

evidence, but overlaying it all was ... what?

A sense of foreboding, perhaps?

Borodov would have been careful to put on a face of confidence with regard to the pending attack

by the Leaguers; nevertheless, it was difficult to paint a bright picture under the circumstances.

Although the home planet of Sodeskaya

16 I BILL BALDWIN

THE SIEGE I 17

herself had not come under direct attack for some hundreds of Standard Years, and though no one

would officially admit it now, a tremendous assault was clearly imminent. It darkened the comings

and goings of Sodeskayans everywhere.

The farewells at last complete, Borodov climbed through the door, grasping a hamper of

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refreshments to keep them from starvation all the way to the spaceport, and the great limousine

glided silently into the morning behind its gravcycle escort.

Little more than a metacycle later, they were thundering into space aboard one of the Fleet's NJH-

26 star launches, a sleek Sodeskayan executive transport renowned throughout the Galaxy for both

speed and elegance. In the warm, wood-paneled passenger cabin, deep-cushioned sofas lined the

walls and four Bear-sized recliners occupied the corners. Soft, indirect lighting illuminated a

sumptuous breakfast— their second since arising—set out in the ship's local gravity on a low table

equipped with an expressing device that filled the air with the delicious aroma of fresh-brewed

cvc'eese. Indifferently Brim passed time watching the Bearish Helmsmen as they broadcast messages

via KA'PPA (instantaneous, character-only communications in which data arrives everywhere in the

Universe simultaneously) to military route coordinators at various control stations orbiting the

beacon stars that marked their route.

Glancing about the plush cabin, Brim paused to wonder what kind of reality he might expect to see

in maneuvers that would be interrupted by formal banqueting and other ceremonies he associated

with visits by royalty. Even the elegant starship in which they rode seemed out of place in an

essentially military function. The refreshments, the cvc'eese, the luxurious appointments, all

combined to make the trip more like a holiday outing than a purposeful military exercise. Old

Borodov had already stretched out on a bulkhead divan and was fast asleep, even though Ursis

appeared to be wide

awake, peering thoughtfully out the Hyperscreen port at the stars rushing by.

As if sensing Brim's attention, the Bear turned and smiled grimly. "You have odd look in your

eyes, Wilf Ansor," he said. "Will you share your thoughts?"

Brim pursed his lips. "I'm not certain I can, Nik," he replied, "—not that I don't want to; it's

just that I'm not certain my thoughts are well formed enough." He looked down at his hands. "I

suppose it comes down to something like ... well... unreality, for lack of a better term." He

gestured around the cabin. "It's as if we were flying off to attend some sort of staged event—a

tableaux, if you will, with formal banquets to break up the weightiness of things. Certainly not

serious maneuvers—or at least what I think of when people mention something like that—when armies

practice warfare against one another."

"Very perceptive, my furless friend," Ursis said, nodding his head. "And yet, now is not the time

to speak of it. Anas-tas Alexi and I predicted your reaction before you even landed in Sodeskaya."

He frowned. "We also agreed that it was very necessary that you experience these maneuvers

yourself early on, so that you would provide us your help knowing all aspects of job 'up front,'

so to speak."

"Hmm," Brim mused. "Sounds a bit like my mother."

"Like your motherT' Ursis asked in surprise.

"Yeah," Brim said, breaking out in a grin. "You know. Mother Bears have got say the same things to

cubs as human mothers do—like, urn, 'This won't be pleasant, but it will increase your moral

fiber.* "

Ursis smiled and nodded vigorously. "You understand, then."

"I still don't have to like it." Brim grumped with mock annoyance.

True," Ursis agreed with a twinkle in his eye, "but think of the moral fiber you are building."

18 I BILL BALDWIN

THE SIEGE I 19

At length, the quiet nimble of the Drive was replaced by the thunder of high-powered gravity

generators, and they came out of HyperSpeed, curving off toward the feeble light of a Category-19

star. Less than half a Standard Metacycle later, they were on a stormy final, bumping and

juddering above the surface of Vorkuta, a frozen landscape that absolutely beggared the word

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barren. "Desolate, eh, Wil-fooshka?" Borodov commented, peering through torn clouds and driving

snow at a dreary underworld passing rapidly below.

Brim nodded, feeling a shudder pass along his back. "Makes Gimmas Haefdon look like a tropical

paradise," he said grimly, making reference to the Empire's gigantic Gimmas starbase orbiting the

dying star of Haefdon. "Except that Gimmas once knew life of some kind. Doesn't look like anything

ever grew down there."

"Is mostly right, Wilf Ansor," Ursis growled with a little smile, "—except for growing Sodeskayan

colony. Small city of Bears in other hemisphere contributes great wealth to economy." He gestured

grandly out to port. "All Vorkuta is colossal field of gold and other more precious ores, would

you believe?"

"Sounds as if it's worth defending, then," Brim quipped.

Ursis shrugged. "Only one of many like it, old friend," he said with a shrug. "And if Nergol

Triannic and his Time-Weed-smoking Controllers get their hands on this kind of wealth, nothing in

the Universe will stop them. 'Caves and darkness are no strangers to winter-weary crag wolves,' as

they say."

"As they say," Brim replied with a nod. Unfortunately, what the Bear had just said was no secret

at all—barring the aphorism, of course. Everyone who could travel faster than light knew about the

Sodeskayan riches. Over the millennia, many others had tried to conquer the Bears' homeland. Ulti-

mately, each had failed, but none had arrived with a war machine to rival the one Nergol Triannic

and his League of Dark Stars was now assembling. This time, evidently, things could be different.

Brim had often seen battle crawlers from the air—as had any Helmsman associated with the military.

At one time or another, he'd even sped over some of the Sodeskayan machines himself—but he'd never

had time to pay much attention, concentrating instead on destroying crawlers that belonged to the

Leaguers. Those he'd learned something about

Even so, nothing in his experience had prepared him for his first close-up encounter with the big

Sodeskayan machines. A staff skimmer had just delivered him and his two companions through five

c'lenyts of driving sleet from the temporary starbase to a snow-filled basin at the edge of a

massive escarpment five hundred irals high, at least. Through the storm, he could see thirty or

more of the squat monoliths protruding through the snow in five neat ranks like tows of prodigious

teeth, massive and sinister, dark-mirrored flanks reflecting what little of the weak daylight that

managed to force its way through the storm clouds. "Voot's greasy beard," he whispered as the

skimmer pulled to a stop some distance from what appeared to be an open entry port.

"Our latest," Ursis growled above the thunder of unmuf-fled gravity engines. "S-33 main battle

crawlers. Big, eh?" Even inside a well-sealed staff skimmer, noise from the brooding, pyramid-

shaped machines was almost deafening.

"Look like thraggling monuments," Brim replied at the top of his voice. Then attempts at further

communication became useless as the driver opened the door and they got out into the frigid air,

boots crunching in the dry, powdery snow. Brim augmented the heat in his Fleet Cloak, then looked

up and shook his head in wonderment, blinking as wind-driven

20 / BILL BALDWIN

THE SIEGE I 21

snowflakes—and the acrid stench of ozone—stung his eyes. The word awesome did little good as a

descnption. These crawlers, if indeed something so large might be expected to move, even at a

crawl, were more than seventy snow-draped irals square at the base with an overall height of some

thirty-five irals. Angular and awkward-looking vehicles, they presented few flat planes upon which

ground-based disrupter fire could score a direct hit. Each was painted with a bright blue flash to

denote membership in the "Blue" army— "enemy" tanks would be painted with green flashes, Ursis had

explained earlier. Midway between the base and what appeared to be control-room slits near the

apex were two huge 350-mmi disrupters mounted on swiveling rings that provided the big vehicles

with terrific firepower. Brim shook his head absently. They looked crude in comparison to the

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beautifully finished starships to which he was accustomed. The great mirrored plates from which

they were fabricated had been cut with no obvious smoothing and were joined by jagged welding

beads, some nearly an iral in thickness. Clearly, Sodeskayan battle crawlers were built for rugged-

ness and impregnability—with little regard whatsoever for weight or the ability to move without

infringement of their surroundings. The sound they made at idle alone was enough to shake the

ground.... Suddenly Brim realized that his two companions were grinning at him.

"Perhaps you wish to trade one of your starships for such a graceful beast," Borodov yelled out.

"We would intercede with Knez for you," Ursis roared with a look of mock dementia. "But perhaps

you would like to ride in one first?"

Brim rolled his eyes. "I had to come halfway across a Galaxy for this? he groaned.

"Where else might you go?" Ursis quipped at the top of his voice. By this time, a number of guards

had noticed them and were standing at rigid attention while one spoke into a

mobile communicator. Moments later, a smartly dressed Sodeskayan Captain stepped from the S-33's

side hatch and inarched briskly toward them, coming to an abrupt halt in front of Borodov and

saluting. "Generals, Admirals," she shouted. "I am Captain Olga Votov, commander of this crawler

and leader of Formation One. General Vaslovich, our Squadron Commander, bids you welcome and asks

that you will please join him inside."

Borodov smiled, returning the Captain's salute. "Thank you. Captain," he said. "Please lead us to

the General." He nodded for Brim and Ursis to follow, then set off through the driving storm,

boots crunching on the deepening snow.

Just inside the crawler's entry hatch was a small vestibule whose deck vibrated and trembled to

the thunderous rumble of the crawler's power plant. Here, the reek of ozone was joined by the

odors of hot lubricating oil, toasting electronics, sealants, polish, Hogge'Poa, and unwashed

Bears—not unlike the odors Brim normally associated with starships. Votov motioned them up a

precipitous companionway so steep it amounted to little more than a ladder. Beside it, an inner

hatch provided Brim a fleeting glimpse onto the crawler's vast machinery spaces, where a number of

Bears had gathered around what appeared to be a massive gravity generator fronted by reactors of

some kind. At the next level, the captain led them into a narrow passageway hung with pipes,

conduits, and wave guides, passing finally into a small cubic chamber Brim estimated to be nearly

at the core of the vehicle's mass. In the center, another ladder passed through the metal ceiling.

The noise moderated somewhat as they ascended mis into what was clearly the vehicle's bustling

control room. By the time Brim and his grip reached the landing, Borodov and a Sodeskayan Major

General were greeting each other with traditional Bear hugs—which Ursis turned into a threesome as

soon as he reached them. After the native compliments, Borodov turned and motioned with his head.

22 I BILL BALDWIN

"Wilf Ansor," he called, "please come meet old family friend, Gregory Rufino Vaslovich." Dressed

in a great tan OverCloak and padded helmet, the General was at least as large as Ursis—perhaps

even larger—with light reddish hair and a single gem in his right fang.

Moments later, Brim felt himself engulfed in yet another Bear hug.

"Wilf Ansor," the Bear said, stepping back with a great smile, "but I have often heard of you." He

laughed. "According to Anastas Alexi here, you should be Bear also, for he refers to you more as a

son that furless human."

Returning the General's infectious grin, Brim glanced at old Borodov and nodded. "I am most

honored," he said—and he meant it. In many ways, the old Bear had been like a father to him.

"So now you ride in battle crawler with us?" Vaslovich asked. "Will be much different than

starship—lots bumpier."

"We have warned him, General," Ursis interjected, politely continuing in Brim's native Avalonian

rather than the Sodeskayan tongue. "But is exceedingly important he gets best view possible of

ground forces in action. He has important job to do here."

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