Nimisha's Ship (27 page)

“Thank you very much, Caleb,” Cuiva said, suddenly adult again. “When will we be making the translation?”

“We’re three hours from heliopause right now.”

“But the Five B will have to get up to speed first before translation,” Cuiva said.

“Correct. Did you want to stay awake for that?”

“It’s uncomfortable, isn’t it?” she asked, affecting unconcern.

“I’m accustomed to it, but if you’d rather be asleep, you won’t notice it at all.”

“I am rather tired,” Cuiva admitted.

Perdimia was on her feet. “Then perhaps I’ll just fix your bath, dear, and get you settled. You can read until you’re sleepy . . .”

“That’s an excellent idea,” Cuiva said, still adult. “I do have that tape Chief Hadley recommended as an introduction to astronomy.”

“Good night then, Cuiva, and sleep well. I’ll put this—” Caleb lifted the hand holding the Coskanito box. “—in my security drawer.”

“Thank you, Caleb.”

And with that he left. He did exactly as he promised her. He did, however, open the jewelry case to have a preview of that magnificently crafted jeweled Necklace that would match the tattoo on Cuiva’s neck. To his surprise, Nimisha’s was also tucked in the box. It did not quite match her daughter’s, but that was as it should be. He sighed. When they found Nimisha, she’d be able to wear her own Necklace as she placed the new one on her daughter’s neck. This journey would certainly prove the Five B as a long-voyage vessel. He wondered if some instinct had prompted him in his careful selection of the crew for what had initially been just a shakedown cruise. Their endurance and patience would be vigorously tested in four years on a vessel this size.

And since this was going to be a much longer voyage, maybe he should give Cuiva the option to do a Junior Officer Qualification. It would give her another incentive for two years of lessons. Not a bad idea to make her a Practical Factor. He rather thought Nimisha would approve.

Syrona, with Nimisha and Casper in attendance and Doc supervising, was delivered of a fine healthy daughter.

“Helm, spread the word outside,” Nimisha ordered.

“Oh, she’s lovely,” Syrona exclaimed when Nimisha put her daughter in her arms. “Just look at all that hair, and the eyelashes. Why she’s marvelous! So much bigger than Tim was, and listen to her wail! She’s much more robust than he was.”

“You had me watching over you most of the pregnancy, Syrona,” Doc said at his smuggest. “All the extra nutrition and the good catering you received makes the difference.”

“When I think of how weak Tim was . . .” Tears formed in Syrona’s eyes, trickling down her cheeks. “Oh!” she exclaimed, startled, as the afterbirth came out in a rush.

“That’s all right now,” Doc said, and a receptacle appeared in which Nimisha could deposit the placenta. “And a little something to encourage your milk.”

“I didn’t have much with Tim,” Syrona said apologetically.

“You will this time,” Doc promised. “And if you don’t, Cater has substitutes that I know will do almost as well. Put the child on that platform, Nimisha, so I can record the vital statistics.”

Nimisha did so. “Can I wash her now?” she asked almost testily. She knew the Sh’im females were waiting eagerly to see the new human baby. They were going to be surprised to be shown just one child since they had multiple births. Of course, the baby—Hope was the name Syrona had chosen for her—was much larger than Sh’im young at birth. Maybe that would help balance matters. Once she had finished with the gentle sponge bath she carefully wrapped the baby in the soft blanket Syrona had knitted, made from finely combed fur of the big shaggies.

Then Nimisha handed the neatly packaged little new bundle of life to its father.

“Go show her off, Casper,” she said. And that’s what he did, his face nearly cracked with his joyous smile as he displayed his daughter. Sh’im were oohing and ululing softly—whether it was out of courtesy for the newborn or because there was only one offspring to be shown Nimisha didn’t care. None of Syrona’s fears for this child had materialized, thanks to Doc attending her so early in the pregnancy and counteracting the effects of poor nutrition.

“She’s so big,” Casper was saying, showing her to Jon and Tim, and then to Ool, Ook, Ay, and Bee, who had crowded in close since they were, in effect, the oldest friends of the humans.

“She’s not white,” was Tim’s critical assessment.

“She’s certainly not as red as you were at birth,” Jon said, ruffling the boy’s hair.

“You mean, that’s a natural color for a baby?”

“You’ve seen the Sh’im young,” Jon went on, “and frankly she’s an improvement on those gray slugs.”

“Ssssh,” Tim said fiercely. “They’d be offended.”

Jon laughed, and glanced up at Nimisha, still in the hatch. “Can we see Syrona while Casper does the honors?”

Nimisha beckoned them in, and Tim squeezed up the stairs ahead of Jon and rushed to the entrance of the main cabin, where he suddenly slowed and tiptoed to the medical couch.

“Mom?”

“I’m all right, Tim. Come on over,” Syrona said, holding out her arms to him and smiling.

He was in her arms in two running steps, crying and hugging her. “I thought it’d never come.”

“You mean, Hope, love?” Syrona said gently. “Why she didn’t take long at all.”

“She took hours, Mom!” The words were nearly a wail.

Nimisha glanced at Jon, who held back from congratulating the new mother.

“I don’t think he’s ever called her that—unless he was sick,” Jon remarked softly. He put an arm around Nimisha’s shoulders and hugged her against him, kissing her cheek. “Cater, I think it’s champagne time,” he said in a louder voice. “And I think Tim ought to try a sip of it, since he’s now the oldest in his family.”

Nimisha was always amazed at Jon’s attitude toward his biological son. He never exhibited any paternal feelings toward the boy, yet he was as careful of him as Casper was and was just as proud of Tim’s ability to cope with their new life among the Sh’im. Tim certainly could speak their language with far more fluency than any of the adults. Either he had more acute hearing—which Doc agreed was true—or he intuitively placed the sounds he couldn’t hear in the context of the sentences. He still had to use the voice box, though, since his vocal cords could not approximate all the sounds Sh’im words used.

Jon was handing Nimisha a proper champagne flute—one drink wouldn’t hurt, Doc assured her—from the tray he carried. She walked with him over to the couch, where he gave a glass to Syrona and one to Tim. A fifth remained on the tray that he set down on a nearby table.

“That is, if Casper ever comes back from showing Hope off.”

“No fear of that,” Nimisha said drily. “A few hungry howls and he’ll come back as fast as he can.”

“Will she howl much?” Tim asked. But he was more interested in the bubbles rising up in the glass. When the adults raised their glasses in a toast, he followed suit.

“To the healthy Hope we’ve just received,” Jon said.

“To Hope!” Tim’s voice was as triumphant as the others. “I don’t like it,” he added, running his tongue over his teeth as he firmly set the glass down on the tray.

“It is an acquired taste,” Jon remarked.

“And this is a special occasion,” Nimisha added.

“For which I am infinitely grateful,” Syrona said with a sigh, lying back against the pillows and closing her eyes.

“You all right, Syrie?” Tim asked.

They all heard a faint wail. Tim frowned. “Hope,” he said with a note of complaint in his voice.

The sound was coming closer and then Casper was rushing into the Fiver, baby cuddled close against him.

“She’s hungry, dear,” Syrona said, reaching out for her daughter and deftly putting her to her breast.

Jon tactfully led Tim to a table, half-pushing him into a chair. “So, what was the Sh’im reaction, Casper?”

“I think they didn’t expect her to be so big,” Casper said. “Oh, champagne? Thanks.”

“You can have mine, too, Cas,” Tim offered.

“I will. They were surprised that there was only one, but we’d figured they would be, since they have multiple births.”

“Humans are capable of them,” Doc remarked.

“It is much easier to have one at a time,” Syrona said firmly.

“Then why do you have two breasts?” Doc demanded.

“Symmetry,” Nimisha replied, grinning at Jon.

“A point,” Doc said, “but a woman could very easily suckle two children at once.”

“If she had nothing else to do,” Syrona said, her tone a little tart. “You can talk all you want, Doc, but you will never have babies. And, were I you, though I am indeed grateful for such an easy birth of a healthy child, I’d shut up about how many babies a woman should have at one time.”

“I stand corrected,” Doc said, sounding unusually meek.

“Thank you,” Syrona said. She smoothed the fuzz on her daughter’s round little head.

“I may not like champagne, but is there something else I could have because I’m a brother?” Tim asked wistfully.

“Cater, what have you that could convince our Tim that this is a celebration?” Jon asked.

“I believe I have just the thing,” Cater said.

“Wow!” was Tim’s response when he saw the three-layer cake, iced in white with lavish pink decorations adorning it. He brought it, along with plates and cutlery, back to the table, and displayed it to the men first. “It’s got ‘Happy Birth Day, Hope’ written on it, Syrie!”

“You’d better be sure to leave me apiece, you ravenous lot. I’ll have quite an appetite when I finish feeding this daughter of mine.”

Traveling on IS drive as the Five B was, they could not receive additional pulsed messages.

The amenities on board did, indeed, prove felicitous. Unlike the accommodations on ordinary naval vessels, each cabin was so well built that no exterior sounds penetrated to disturb the occupant. This meant more privacy, a valuable commodity on an extended trip. Fortunately, though, the psych profiles had been accurate: There were no unpleasant altercations. Each specialist held classes that included more than Cuiva and allowed her the opportunity to interact with other people in the learning process. She had the sort of temperament that responded well to competition and discussion, a facet of education not available during her private tutoring. Caleb’s idea of making her a JO, and giving her projects to be signed off on to prove she knew the material, was received with delight by Cuiva and nods of approval by the rest of the crew. She very much wanted to learn as much practical material as she could, to show her mother her achievements. The competition, friendly as it was, still inspired her to achieve at the highest possible level despite her being the youngest of the students.

She had received very good basic training: If she wasn’t at the top of the class, she was rarely lower in the scale than second. She was most interested in astronomy and stellar navigation. She soon mastered everything Chief Hadley had to offer, so they both resorted to the educational tapes provided by the extensive ship’s library.

“Some of these are just theories,” Hadley warned her. “Can’t take them as fact yet. Too da—” He cleared his throat and altered his phrasing. “Too bad we can’t stop and examine some of the systems we’re passing, so you could see examples.”

“But we’ll come out in a totally unknown sector of the galaxy,” Cuiva said, her eyes gleaming with anticipation, “and we’ll be the very first to catalog ever so many new primaries and systems.”

“Must admit I’m looking forward to that opportunity myself, young lady,” Hadley said. “Now, let’s do some exercises. We’ve missed Gaitama’s general lesson watching that tape.”

The main cabin was often sectioned off, to allow for multiple activities to be scheduled. Plays were rehearsed privately and then performed on the lower deck in the gymnasium. Perdimia had a little pipe that she taught Cuiva how to play. Gaitama had brought along a lap harp that she had made; Caleb had taught himself guitar, and Cherry had studied violin. All on board could sing, and so they included musicals in the evening entertainment. Cuiva was enchanted with so many things to do and new skills to learn. If she privately mentioned to Perdimia that Lady Rezalla might be shocked at all she was being taught—including some of Gaitama’s unusual skills—she was overjoyed at the chance to learn what regular people did. The long journey continued.

“Twins!” Nimisha’s shriek of dismay echoed through the Fiver and brought Jon out of their cabin, where he had gone while Doc did his monthly examination.

“I thought you were expanding more than is normal,” Doc remarked in a deceptively casual tone.

“
Thought?
” Nimisha did not diminish her tone. “You’ve known for the past seven months, if not immediately after you told me I’d conceived, that I was having twins. In fact, I suspect that you may well have done something to ensure the egg split so that I would!”

“Nimisha. Really!” Doc’s indignation sounded honest enough.

“I don’t trust you, Doc.”

“Is it true, Doc?” Jon asked, hurrying to the diagnostic couch. Delight and concern warred with each other in his expression as he helped the bulging Nimisha to sit up. She was bulky enough to need assistance, and that annoyed her even more. She had not been nearly as large with Cuiva.

“It is true that Nimisha is carrying twins. I thought I was hearing a mere echo of the heartbeat, but I now perceive that there are undeniably two. Some of my equipment is basic, you know, and amniocentesis and other more esoteric requirements in a maternity unit were not deemed required.”

“Since you did a lot more than listen to fetal heartbeats in those tests you’ve been regularly subjecting me to, you’ve
known
!” Nimisha’s eyes were flashing and her mouth was set in an angry line. “And I don’t trust you not to have interfered. You had the chance.”

Jon, looking abashed, scratched his head before he met her irate gaze.

“It might not be Doc’s fault, luv. There are twins in almost every generation in my family. In fact, I’m one. I have a twin sister.”

“You never mentioned her.”

“It’s not a fact that Fleet needed to record.”