Nimisha's Ship (26 page)

“The other wrecks could still be traveling onward,” Jon remarked. “We may never find them.”

“I think it’s amazing we’ve located any of them, considering the odds.”

“True. I’m just overwhelmingly glad you found . . . me.” His eyes sparkled.

“Later; we’d best do what we came for . . . for a while, at least.”

To their astonishment, they found evidence from space of some sort of discernible ruins at the confluence of two rivers that meandered through the flat plains of one of the smaller continents.

Once Helm had checked the immediate vicinity for possible dangers, they kitted themselves out for on-site exploration. They found a rusted shuttle of such an awkward design that Nimisha wondered that it had landed at all, its exterior eroded by time and weather.

“Acid rain?” Nimisha guessed, putting her gloved hand on some of the pitting.

“Perhaps. They do seem to have built some sort of a settlement,” he said.

“And a cemetery,” she said, noticing eight stone markers. Time and weather had obliterated the shallow carvings of names and dates.

“I’d guess some element of the First Diaspora,” Jon said, squatting down and running an index finger across the indistinct legend. He rose and, silently, they walked over to what was left of stone walls. They stepped over them into a compound with the ruins of several small dwellings. Splinters of wood, protected by insertion in the stones, proved that the unknown builders had acquired wood from some other place, since there was none on the broad plains.

“They didn’t go in much for mixed crews at first, did they?” she asked.

Jon shook his head, digging his toe into the dirt clogging the remains of a hearth. When the metal tip of his boot hit something, he used a trowel to uncover the corroded remains of a pan.

“The deceased had no survivors,” she murmured, unconsciously stroking her still-flat abdomen.

“Life-forms are approaching cautiously through the vegetation,” Helm said. “Some are large enough to be dangerous.”

“Let’s not take unnecessary risks right now,” Jon said, taking her arm.

They ran back to the Fiver and were safely within it when the creatures could be seen on the main screen.

“Carnivorous, to judge by the shape of their muzzles and protruding fangs,” Helm reported. “And large enough to suggest the reason the compound was walled.”

“Well, let’s see what else this planet offers prospective settlers,” Jon said, shedding the protective gear.

“Thirsty work,” Nimisha said, ordering beverages for both of them from Cater while Helm lifted.

Careful quartering of the planet showed no further remains of interest.

“And it’s boring, geologically speaking,” was Nimisha’s complaint. “Normal plains, old mountains, wide rivers, three oceans, and a dozen seas.”

“Some rather unnice indigenous specimens, six-legged, too,” Jon said. “More extendibles to capture us and teeth to eat us with. Also, there doesn’t really seem to be much in the way of easily obtainable metal and mineral resources. Deep pit mining would be necessary, and we will need metals when the freighter’s cargo is used up. As it will, the way the Sh’im proliferate.” He gave her hair an affectionate ruffling, which she liked, though she hadn’t expected to. “While we will try our best, I don’t think humans are given to litters as the Sh’im are.”

“Well, it’s a good place to have to fall back on. Or give the Sh’im in a few generations. Though this primary’s a lot brighter than Erehwon’s.”

“Oh, you’d noticed that about their eyesight, too,” Jon remarked.

“I didn’t. Doc did,” Nimisha said. “The Sh’im optical equipment is not happy with bright sunlight. Their home-world sun must be much dimmer. Maybe the real impetus for them to colonize is that their sun’s old and dying.”

“At first I considered it possible that they habitually required a midday rest,” Doc said. He had had his own reports to make of the two planets they had investigated, but he granted them the courtesy of silence unless they asked him a direct question. “Then I noticed that their eye slits become narrower as the Erehwon sun nears zenith. Their eye slits are wider at night, and I don’t think it has that much to do with their night vision, which is better than that of you humans. I’ve compared their optical equipment with that of other minor species available on data file. I suspect that you’re right, Nimisha. They originate on a world with a dimmer sun, an older world.”

“Would tinted lenses help, Doc?” Nimisha asked.

“I would suggest it, though the problem seems to affect the younger ones more than the darker-coated elders. Perhaps the pigment alters with age, and their sensitivity to harsh sunlight is reduced.”

“Put wraparound sunglasses on your list of things to do,” Jon said.

“I have,” Doc replied blithely. “May I suggest that since the necessary investigations are complete for this planet, we return forthwith, posthaste, and immediately to Erehwon? You have promised to assist Syrona in the birth and she might just deliver early. I neglected to request a connection between my diagnostic and the
Poolbeg
’s unit.”

So Helm plotted the most direct return flight to Erehwon, and when Nimisha told him to come as close to redlining the drive as possible now that the engines were well broken in, they made it back at a record speed. She spent a lot more time sleeping, which Doc reminded her was a normal part of the first trimester.

She did try to access the beacon at the wormhole exit.

“Not that I expected anything,” she murmured when there were no messages. “Not as far away as presumably we are from home.”

“We live on hope, you know,” Jon said gently.

“It’s almost two years since I pulsed the Maydays from this side,” Nimisha said.

“We know we’re far away from our homes, love.” He stroked her hand. “Too soon.”

“Or the damned beacon’s malfunctioning.”

Jon gave her a mock-surprised look. “A Rondymense unit malfunctioning? I find that hard to believe.”

His teasing reassured her. She knew that the beacon had been functioning. Wasn’t it receiving the updates Helm sent?

“Report on all systems, please, Helm,” Jon asked, as he was the day’s pilot.

“All systems are in perfect working order. All diagnostics are in the optimum range,” Helm reported. “I have taken the liberty of forwarding a message through the comsat, giving our ETA,” he added.

“Well done, Helm,” Jon said, smiling over at Nimisha. “We can expect a welcoming committee!”

Nimisha considered this for such a long moment that Jon raised his eyebrows in query.

“I haven’t missed them. I should have.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “Thank you,” he said, his eyes glowing.

“No, I thank you, Captain Svangel,” she said softly. “I’ve never had a . . . a more restful voyage.” She grinned.

“The voyage is not yet over.” He held his hand out.

“Helm, you have the conn,” she said, rising and following him back to their cabin.

“You will want to see the improvements,” Helm said, interrupting the afterglow of their activities.

“Improvements?” Jon said, dutifully donning his coverall while Nimisha was still struggling to sit upright on the bed.

“Yes, Captain. Truly impressive.”

The two humans made eye contact. It was rare for Helm to comment. Nimisha hurriedly pulled on a clean coverall and joined Jon in the pilot area.

“Now
that
is worth seeing,” she said. “Helm, are you taping this? They’ll surely want to see the aerial view. Impressive! They
have
been busy!”

Where there had been but the one prefab L-shaped building, there was now an avenue of twelve residences, all slightly different, as the prefab units had been designed to allow variations. These were neatly fenced with space for small gardens that did not entirely feature edible plants. There were more flowers in the largest unit that housed Syrona, Casper, and Tim.

The most surprising building was the large triple-span barn with a corral to the right of it: a corral in which they could see four-legged animals that had to be the smaller deer that the Sh’im had not been quick enough to capture. She’d want to hear how Casper had turned cowboy in the gig. Since it was early morning Erehwon time, they also saw farm units and wagons on definite tracks that wheeled vehicles had packed down.

“They’ve tripled the amount of cultivated fields,” Jon said. “The repeller shields have made a big difference.”

“And look at the prefab sheds by the cliffs!” Nimisha added. “Does every family have a ground unit now?”

“Have they completely emptied the freighter? Look at all the empty pods.” Jon pointed as the Fiver swung around the bend of the cliff, and they could see the entire Sh’im town, not just the peripheral buildings. “Seem to be using some for rain barrels . . .”

“And tree houses,” Nimisha added with a whoop of laughter.

“I hope some were saved for storage purposes,” Jon said.

“Casper’s the optimist. He’d’ve put some aside for a bountiful harvest with all those fields under cultivation.”

Their arrival had been seen, and the powered vehicles were making for what had obviously become a landing site. The gig was parked by a large prefab hangar. There was sufficient room for the Fiver to set down.

“They’ve collected the skiff, too,” Nimisha said, spotting the vehicle inside the garage as Helm did a neat vertical landing. “Well done, Helm. Not so much as a bump.”

“Of course not, ma’am,” was the imperturbable response. “All running systems inactive. Performance data will be stored for analysis by fourteen hundred planetary time.”

“Very good, Helm,” Jon said. “I’d like a report on any necessary service, maintenance, or resupply required.”

“That will be available at the same time, Captain.”

Someone banged on the hatch that was still space-locked. The two humans grinned at each other just as Helm released the hatch. “Apologies tendered.”

“None required,” Nimisha said and, taking Jon’s hand, they went to meet their friends.

Tim was first, brown as a nut, followed more sedately by his parents. Syrona waddled, she was so near the end of her pregnancy. She looked as healthy as her son and obviously relieved to see Nimisha. When the two women had embraced, while Timmy and a beaming Casper greeted Jon more circumspectly, Syrona held Nimisha off.

“You’re pregnant,” she said, accusingly.

“Well, what else had we to do with the time between planets?” Nimisha said. “But how could you tell? I don’t show yet.”

“Yes, you do,” Casper said, grinning. “You’re glowing.”

“I am?” Nimisha turned in astonishment to Jon and then back to Syrona.

“Indeed you are,” Syrona said and then kissed her cheek, squeezing her hands to indicate how very happy she was for Nimisha.

Then the Sh’im, who had tactfully allowed the humans to greet each other, moved forward. Ool and Ook wanted to know if their search had been successful, so Jon told them there would be a showing of tapes of the planets that evening when they could rig the exterior screen to allow all to see.

VIII

I
N ORDER TO
cloak their exit from Vegan space, Five B slipped into the middle of a large convoy of drone-pulling freighters.

“It’s not exactly the kind of exit I’d prefer to make,” Caleb remarked to Lt. Commander Kendra Oscony, his executive officer, seated beside him in the bridge compartment.

She grinned. “Ignominious for a ship of this caliber,” she said, her glance sliding around the control panel. She had had some simulated training on a mock-up at Fleet Headquarters. But even the best virtual simulations never equaled the reality. “She is some beauty. When can we slip the dogs?”

“As soon as we’ve cleared the comsats,” he said, almost as eager as she to be free of their cover vessels. “We don’t want our markings too visible.”

“We’ve only got an interim marking, RX-25. The admiral isn’t being overcautious, is he?” she asked.

“If he isn’t, I am,” he said firmly. “Lady Cuiva’s safety is as important as the task of finding her mother.”

She cleared her throat at that subtle rebuke. He took the edge off it by giving her a grin. “I sure never thought to be this lucky,” she said.

“Nor I,” Caleb admitted, trying to make friends with his executive officer. He knew the XO by reputation, although he would never tell her that it was her fine mathematical abilities that had decided her selection for this shakedown cruise.

“She’s a nice child, too.”

“She is,” Caleb agreed.

“Coming up to the last comsat, Captain,” said Helm, and Kendra shook her head.

Caleb grinned more broadly. He was accustomed to the AI trio on a Fiver, having helped program and install the original units. It would take the naval segment of this crew time to adjust to having independent AI’s as integral entities. The Chief Engineer, Ian Hadley, had been over all the design specs; he had spent hours with Hiska, who had actually talked volubly about the refinements that Lady Nimisha had made to drive components. Gaitama Rezinda had received intense briefing by Hiska on how to deal with any adjustments that might be required during this shakedown cruise. The young Rondymense Yard employee had been a bit goggle-eyed over the responsibility, but there was no question that she was capable of handling the job if Hiska had approved her. Caleb had given Hiska the choice of being the shakedown cruise jack-of-all-trades, or joat, as such mechanics were called. She had declined on the grounds that Lady Nimisha had given her the responsibility of attending to her quarters, workspace, and office, and not even to find her patron would she abandon that position of trust. Which, Admiral Gollanch remarked, was very well, since the woman had personality problems that could have proved awkward even on the test run.

“In that case, Helm, proceed to maximum Insystem speed,” Caleb said.

“Aye, Captain.”

Caleb wasn’t certain that Nimisha would approve of him programming naval parlance into this AI, but with six naval personnel on board, it would simplify matters.

“Time to heliopause?”

“At maximum speed, eighty-two hours, thirty minutes, ten seconds and—”

“Thank you, Helm.”

“Aye, sir.”

Kendra smothered a laugh.

“You have the conn, XO,” Caleb said, releasing the safety net and rising.

“Aye, sir.” She slipped over to the seat he had vacated.

With an AI Helm, it was not actually necessary to maintain a watch schedule, but naval tradition required it.

In the main cabin, he found Lady Cuiva and Perdimia having a snack.

“All settled in?” he asked.

“Yes, Captain,” the two replied in chorus. Perdimia grinned and nudged Cuiva with her elbow.

“May I join you?”

“But of course,” Cuiva said, inclining her head in an imitation of her grandam.

Caleb ordered on his way to Cater’s dispenser and received the caffeine drink and the sandwich he’d requested, all neatly and appetizingly arranged on the naval crockery supplied to the unit.

“How long will it take us to reach . . . that place?” Cuiva asked.

“As soon as we’re past heliopause, we’ll translate into Interstellar Drive. Then it’ll be a week on IS before we return to normal space and begin the testing.”

“Just as my mother was going to do?”

“Just as I am sure your mother did do,” Caleb said.

“Everyone’s very nice,” Cuiva added after a moment’s silence.

“We had no trouble picking a crew when they heard the Five B was going out to be tested,” Caleb said.

“Even Hiska was pleased,” Cuiva said before taking the last bite of her snack.

“How could you tell?” Caleb was startled into asking.

“Oh,” and Cuiva waved an airy hand just like Lady Rezalla would, “Hiska talks to me.”

“You’re one of the privileged few.”

“But she talks to you, too, Caleb,” Cuiva replied, blinking, and that was the first time she had not hesitated about using his first name. He was making progress.

“On business matters only.”

“She said you’re very good,” Cuiva remarked.

Perdimia shot a surprised glance at Rustin, who had to chuckle at such a confidence.

“I’d never have known had you not told me,” Caleb said.

“Oh?” Cuiva’s eyebrows shot up and now she resembled her mother more.

“I think,” Perdimia interrupted gently, “that it’s time we said good night, Lady Cuiva. It’s been a very long and exciting day.”

Cuiva obediently slid out of the chair. “Thank you, Caleb, for allowing me along on this trip.”

So, Caleb thought, she prefers not to refer to the real reason she’s on board. That was fine by him. No reason to upset the child needlessly.

“I know your mother meant to take you out on the Fiver when she returned from the shakedown cruise,” he said, rising in deference to her rank. “Since I could appoint the crew, I asked for you to ride along with us.”

“We will find my mother, won’t we, Caleb?” Cuiva asked, her heart in her expressive blue eyes.

“Indeed we will, Lady Cuiva.”

Cuiva’s eyes were suddenly filled with tears and she took a deep breath. “If I may call you Caleb on board the Five B, you may certainly address me as Cuiva, Captain.”

With that, she pivoted on her heel and walked briskly toward her cabin.

“She’ll be fine,” Perdimia murmured before following her charge.

“And safe,” Caleb said to himself. He finished his meal and then went to his own cabin, to finish stowing his gear.

They were three hours away from the heliopause when Helm announced receipt of an encrypted message from Admiral Gollanch.

“We’re to meet a courier at these coordinates,” Caleb said after decoding the message. He was puzzled as well as annoyed. They were to heave to and await the courier’s arrival. He tapped the numbers into Helm.

“You don’t suppose there’s been news from—” Kendra broke off.

He had the same thought: there’d been contact with Nimisha. His chest was filled with a sudden surge of some conflicting emotions. He wanted above all else to have Nimisha safe and sound, but he also, almost equally, wanted the chance to test the Five B. If by any chance it was a fault in the ship that had caused her disappearance, rather than the wormhole, he wanted to
know.

Both Caleb and Kendra were right. The courier had a copy of the pulsed message that had been intercepted by a small interstellar freighter on the outskirts of explored space. It contained a message from Nimisha giving all the information her Helm had been able to collect as to her location—a location so far away that it was estimated that the Five B, traveling at maximum IS speed, would take four years to reach it. Fleet and Navy had verified the pulse beam as genuine. If the pulse had taken nearly sixteen months to reach this side of the galaxy, would Nimisha still be alive? Caleb firmly edited that thought out of his mind.

“Has a message been sent back, confirming receipt?” he asked. Even if the return pulse took another sixteen months to get back, it would reassure Nimisha that rescue was on its way.

“Yes, Commander,” the courier said with a grin. “Like right then, saying you’d been ordered to those coordinates. I heard the CO say that updates will be sent to her on a regular basis.” Then he handed over to Caleb the disk containing the new orders.

“I’ve got additional supplies for you on board, Commander,” he added. “Admiral Gollanch’s respects. You’ll be away longer than you’re provisioned for. And these.” “These” were two packages: the sealed one had a note in Lady Rezalla’s angular hand tucked under the gold cord of the distinctive Coskanito wrapping. The second, larger one obviously contained gowns, and Caleb lifted the cover high enough to see folds of white and gentian-blue.

Caleb had little doubt that the Coskanito box contained Lady Cuiva’s necklace and he slipped it under his arm. The dress box he carefully put to one side while he gave orders for those on the Five B to help the courier crew unload the supplies. Well, the ceremony would be a few years late, that’s all, but he devoutly hoped that it would be Nimisha who conducted that important ceremony for her daughter somewhere and sometime.

Admiral Gollanch’s new orders to Captain Rustin were for him to proceed at maximum speed on IS drive to reach the beacon that Nimisha had had the good sense to release.

Handing the disk to Nazim, who was in the pilot’s chair, Caleb told him to give Helm the data. He took the packages and went to find Cuiva. She was dutifully doing lessons in the cabin she shared with Perdimia. Cuiva gasped when she saw the dress box.

“I’ve very good news, Cuiva,” Caleb said, gesturing for Perdimia to remain where she was. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Your mother’s been found. Or rather, she’s sent out a broad pulse that has finally been received. We’re going to make all haste to the coordinates, but I have to add that she’s very, very far away from where we are now.”

Cuiva struggled not to break into tears; it was to Caleb, rather than to Perdimia, to whom she turned for comforting.

“Don’t hold back the tears, Cuiva, dear,” Caleb said. “You’ve been brave a long while, and there’s just me and Perdimia here and we’ll never tell.”

She didn’t sob long, despite her intense relief at the news. She was very shortly in control, drying her eyes on the handkerchief Caleb produced. Then he handed over the Coskanito box, which she clutched to her chest.

“A pulse message sent by your mother from way the south side of the galaxy was picked up at the edge of explored space by an interstellar vessel and relayed to Fleet Headquarters. The message has been verified as originating from equipment only she had available. My orders are now to proceed at all speed to that point.”

Cuiva sniffled as she rocked slightly, the box in her arms. “So that’s why my grandam has sent this. So my mother herself can Necklace me in—” She looked at the ceiling, reckoning the time to her fourteenth birthday. “—one year and eight months.”

Caleb cleared his throat and looked anxiously at Perdimia for assistance.

“It’ll be longer than that to get where your mother is, Cuiva, luv,” he said as kindly as he could.

“But Mother has to put on my Necklace!” Cuiva exclaimed, sitting upright in her anguish.

“And so she shall, but it’s going to take us roughly four years to reach that part of the galaxy, judging by the length of time it took the pulse to reach occupied space.”

“Four . . . years?” Cuiva’s voice squeaked in surprise. “But I’ll be too old to be Necklaced.”

“No, no,” Perdimia started to say.

“My mother
has
to do it—”

She burst into tears again and Caleb took her in his lap this time to comfort her, stroking silken hair that had the feel of her mother’s under his fingers. Hastily, he transferred his hands to her slender shoulders and back.

“Now, now, honey.” He rocked her soothingly.

“There’s cold sleep, Cuiva,” Perdimia said, gently smoothing Cuiva’s rumpled hair from her flushed and tearful face. “If Captain Rustin and Doc agree, you can go to sleep the day before you’d be fourteen and wake when we find your mother. Then she can properly Necklace you.”

That solution seemed to ease the tears, and Cuiva sat up on Caleb’s lap, still hugging the jewelry box.

“But you’ll all be older . . . and so will Mother, if it’s going to take
that
long to get there.”

“But you,” Caleb said, pushing one finger gently on the tip of her nose, as he would no longer dare to do to a son who was already in the Academy, “will be just fourteen. Which seems to be the important issue we have to resolve.”

“What about my grandam?” Cuiva sniffed, and then remembered her handkerchief and blew fiercely into it before wiping her cheeks. “She’ll miss the ceremony, and so will my cousins and uncles and aunts.”

“You’d really miss them?” Caleb asked teasingly.

“Not great-grandam Lady Astatine,” Cuiva admitted candidly. “And some of my cousins definitely. But there’s the celebration . . .”

“Nothing that Cater can’t match, if not exceed,” Caleb said. “I feel she’s quite capable of spreading the most impressive minor majority feast ever presented this very select company. Wherever we have to hold that all-important ceremony,” he added quickly.

While she considered that offer, Cuiva gradually eased her grip until the box settled to her lap. Now she handed it to Caleb.

“I think you’d better put this safely away then. Until we find Mother.”

“You could go to sleep now, if you wanted to,” Caleb suggested, but he heard Perdimia’s mutter of dissent just as Cuiva shook her head.

“No, I’ve lessons to learn,” Cuiva said firmly. “I want to know as much as I can from Commander Oscony, Chief Hadley, and Mareena. Then Mother will know I haven’t wasted travel time or the pains you took to be sure I had good instructors while I’m away from Acclarke. I’ll go to sleep”—she straightened her shoulders in a brave gesture—“the day before my fourteenth birthday.” She turned to Perdimia. “That’s the correct way to handle this problem, isn’t it, Perdi?”

“It is certainly one solution,” Perdimia said. “Perhaps Captain Rustin or Kendra or even Gaitama can think of another one. It’s good to examine all available options.”

“Well spoken, Perdimia,” Caleb said, rising from the bed, the Necklace case in one hand. “We’ll see what alternatives we can come up with.”