Nimisha's Ship (5 page)

“You’d best show me the ship itself while I’m here,” her dam said, dismissing the plans that she couldn’t read for a virtual shape that she might have more chance of evaluating. “I knew I should have supervised you more closely but . . .” Rezalla’s shrug was as elegant as ever. Then she smiled up at her tall daughter. “His genes have done well by you. See that you do well by his legacy.”

“I intend to, my mother.”

“And, before you get too involved, I suggest that you have your body-heir.”

Nimisha thought that suggestion over for a long moment. “Yes, that would be wise, since I intend to test the yacht myself.” At her mother’s startled gasp, she smiled reassuringly and touched her mother delicately on the forearm. “I’m a very good pilot, you know, but I have a duty to you and the Family. Have you any sire in mind for me?”

“Thank you, m’dear. Lately you have been so limited in your contact with your peers that I wonder that you are interested in men at all . . .”

“Oh, I am, Mother,” Nimisha said in such a warm tone that her mother became all the more anxious. But Nimisha did know about Family duty and would never involve herself, even in dalliance, with someone less than totally presentable.

“Only those, I suspect,” Lady Rezalla said in a slightly acid tone, “who pretend to be interested in your fascination with parsecs and performance vehicles.”

“There are some who have applied to me for recommendations on racing cars, my mother,” Nimisha replied, her expression droll. “Over lunches at fashionable eateries and even on weekend parties. I do not live a monastic life.”

Lady Rezalla sniffed delicately. “I should hope not!” Nimisha shrugged and her mother went on. “Leave the matter of a suitable sire to me. I shall give you several choices. After all, a body-heir contract is short. And you might even enjoy it.”

“Did you enjoy your contract with my sire, my mother?”

Lady Rezalla raised her head, stiffened her back, and regarded her daughter for a long moment. At first, Nimisha wondered if she had broached too personal a matter.

“Yes,” Lady Rezalla said, her eyes reflecting sadness, “I did. And he tried to extend it.”

“I know,” Nimisha said with a moue of regret.

“He was far too committed, even then, to . . . his business.” Rezalla rose from the desk to indicate that the subject was closed.

The inspection of the ship—or rather of the skeleton, for the special petralloys that would be the hull plating had yet to be added—was duly conducted, and Lady Rezalla did not affect either specious approval or dismay. She was even allowed into the sacrosanct Design Room. She inhaled sharply when the lights went out, and then exhaled as the Designer displayed the yacht as she would look in finished form.

“Impressive,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought dear Ti was so inventive. Much better than his color schemes,” she added blandly, leaving the now-bare Design Room.

Lady Rezalla also took note of the respect with which her daughter was treated by all the Rondymense personnel. So the tour ended with Lady Rezalla both pleased and reassured.

As Nimisha conveyed her mother back to the surface of Vega III, she decided that she’d very deftly gotten her mother to take care of screening suitable sires so that she wouldn’t have to spend unnecessary time away from the Yard to attend to that family obligation. She had too much scheduled right now to spend time going through bloodlines and gene patterns. Her mother would enjoy the occupation far more than she would. And probably choose a far more suitable alliance. Nimisha’s current bedmate would not meet her mother’s high social standard, but then, what her mother didn’t know wouldn’t offend her.

Two weeks later her mother handed her a list of suitable men. Of the lot, Nimisha decided that Lord Rhidian Farquahar-Hayakawa was the most acceptable to her. She was, of course, acquainted with the man. He was an ardent hunter of alien monsters, charming and handsome, though she deplored his hobby as much as he probably disapproved of her professional involvement. But he was known to be an excellent companion on a hunt, never complaining about the dirt or discomfort, and had often caused her to howl with laughter at his sly and clever jokes. She had never once heard him belittle anyone. He had blue eyes, too, so that feature would be perpetuated. When approached by Nimisha for his service, he was surprised but recovered smoothly.

“You’re only eighteen, Nimi,” he’d remarked. “Surely you don’t need to rush into maternity yet.”

“I might as well get it over with so I can concentrate on what interests me. I’ve the Yard to manage, you know.”

“How’s that new long-distance yacht of yours coming along? I hear it’s going to reduce travel time phenomenally,” he said. “Could I make it from Demeathorn to Canopus IV in time to attend both hunting seasons?”

“Only if you learn to handle a spaceship better than you do hunting vehicles,” she replied, obliquely reminding him of a near-fatal accident while hunting raptors on Canopus IV.

“Will you do a shakedown cruise with me when the yacht’s ready?”

“I need the body-heir contract now, Rhid, but I’ll see what I can do when the yacht is ready for trial runs.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, and then he was willing to discuss the contract for a body-heir. He surprised her by asking for Rondymense Ship Yard stock and added mining concessions from his family holdings as his half of the child’s birthright. The agreement was signed; the begetting of an heir was conducted with grace, skill, and such fervor that Nimisha was quite pleased. And just a little disappointed when she became pregnant a scant two months later. Rhidian did not cease his visits, for the contract stipulated a live, healthy child. She didn’t object to his company during her pregnancy, since he usually arrived after she had returned from the Ship Yard. He did once mention that he felt she should suspend her operations at the Yard in the last trimester of her pregnancy.

“Why? All I’m doing now is programming the AI’s on board and that takes very little physical effort on my part. Still, it’s nice of you to be concerned, Rhidian.”

“I know you’re healthy, and all that, and carrying easily, Nimi. It’s just that accidents can—and have . . .” He paused, wondering if he should have obliquely mentioned the tragic circumstance of her sire’s death. “. . . happened at the Ship Yard and I should not like to see you miscarry. Of course, if you did, I would naturally honor the contract, which requires the successful birth, not merely the pregnancy,” he said, his expression hopeful.

“That’s most considerate of you, Rhidian, but I don’t foresee any problems, and no one at the Yard lets me overextend myself. I could probably do a lot more than Jeska and my other department heads allow.”

Rhidian gave a reluctant shrug. “Well, if Jeska’s always with you . . .”

“Always,” Nimisha said.

When her daughter was born, Nimisha was overwhelmed with a totally unanticipated rush of maternal devotion that put the half-finished yacht into second place in her life. Lady Rezalla couldn’t believe how the birth altered her daughter, nor could Jeska. Fortunately, both approved.

“Having a baby is not at all like designing a spaceship, is it?” Nimisha said, smiling fatuously at the dainty girl that her body had produced.

“I should hope not,” Lady Rezalla said sharply, but her expression softened instantly. She, too, was quite besotted with her grandchild.

Lady Astatine was the only relative who retained critical objectivity. “It’s well enough,” she said. “If it lives and has its health.”

Lady Rezalla’s suddenly revived hope that Nimisha would dispense with spaceship design and Yard supervision was ruthlessly shattered. Although a registered wet nurse was hired to tend the baby’s needs, Nimisha set up an office suite in her domicile, adding vid screens showing the nursery rooms so she could enjoy her daughter’s antics whenever she chose. In fact, as Cuiva advanced from crawling to an unsteady walk, only Jeska knew how often Nimisha totally ignored other pressing professional matters.

Lord Rhidian was so beguiled by his firstborn that he continued his visits, even missing an important Trophy Hunt when Cuiva first walked. Although Nimisha had not initially intended to take so much time away from the Yard to supervise her body-heir’s nurturing and development, she found time spent with her daughter a source of relaxation from a long day of programming. She was setting up what she knew would be a revolutionary femtosecond control system for the yacht. That such a system also required a whole new generation of central processing units—as well as a staggering cost—meant little to her in her search for perfection.

When the Mark 2 was completed, she did the test runs, her first major absence from her daughter since Cuiva’s birth. Rhidian was one of those permitted to come along “for the ride.” Jeska was another, along with an “interested” observer from the Fleet Design Department. That had been a compliment to Lord Tionel’s good standing with the Department, though Nimisha had the feeling that Commander Modesittin was present more as a goodwill representative. While he asked few but pertinent questions, he had evidently been sufficiently impressed; a more thorough investigation of the Mark 2’s performance resulted in sales of four of this prototype for scout vessels. Nimisha and Jeska had found a way around the cost of the necessary CPU’S, so that the Navy could also
afford
to buy the Mark 2.

Several of the patents she had registered for improvements in minor control devices were also purchased in quantity and installed wherever they would update existing systems. It was obvious that the Fleet was now as interested in her as a naval designer as they had been in Lord Tionel. She had several very complimentary interviews with Admiral Levertim Gollanch, who had succeeded to Admiral Narasharim’s position after the older woman’s retirement. There was no harm, Nimisha thought, in cooperating with the Fleet. She was amused to be invited to a formal dinner by Admiral Gollanch shortly after the interviews.

“More likely to pick my brains than to entertain me,” Nimisha remarked to Jeska, who complained when she accepted the invitation.

When Lady Rezalla heard about it, she considered such interest only right and just and wondered why it had taken them so long to realize that Lady Nimisha was a fit successor to Lord Tionel.

“They had to be sure of that, my mother,” Nimisha said. “They have, after all, continued to buy Rondymense units. But I designed some of the systems that Tionel never got around to making.”

“So you’ve informed me,” was her dam’s droll reply.

So Nimisha attended a very formal dinner at Vega’s Fleet headquarters in the Supreme Admiral’s quarters. She was the celebrity of the evening. The other guests, gaudily attired in formal uniforms, displaying medals for a variety of achievements, ranged from young to ancient, male and female, and were almost all naval. Two other civilians had been included and she knew both—naval architects, each good in his specialty. But, she reminded herself, not as good as she was.

Well, service to one’s Federation was part of the duty of a good Family, but if she had to have a naval officer or other “observer” checking up on her, she would choose with care. After narrowing down the candidates to a short list and conducting a round of private investigations, she made an appointment to see Admiral Gollanch. She’d have Lieutenant Senior Grade Caleb Rustin, she told the admiral, as her Fleet spy.

Gollanch pretended astonishment. “Fleet spy?”

“That is certainly what last week’s dinner was all about, wasn’t it?” Nimisha responded, sitting totally at her ease in his impressive office. The wood paneling was supposedly resurrected from the wreck of some ancient and honorable oceangoing vessel. The decor was certainly all naval, including the curious instruments by which ancient mariners had been able to deduce their location and make course corrections. “Let us be honest with each other, Admiral.”

“You have the forthrightness of your dam.”

“I do not. She’d never say anything so direct. My biological father might have.”

Gollanch hid a smile behind his hand but his eyes twinkled. “I feel that it is quite likely that we can deal with you as equably as we did with Lord Tionel.”

“His understanding was with your predecessor, Admiral Narasharim.”

“I can only hope that ours—” He paused to make her a half bow. “—will be as productive.”

“Productive in what way? My sire never spoke of his . . . arrangement with Fleet. I knew that there was one, not what it entailed.”

“This office has watched your handling of his Yard with interest and respect. I wish to be more fully briefed on your projects in case we may collaborate . . .”

“On my long-distance yacht?” She cocked her head a little to one side.

“The Mark Two vessels have performed well above the most optimistic criteria and yet you have a new design on the gantries.”

“There is always room for improvement, Admiral.”

“If there is, this department is very interested. I do not intend to interfere in any way with a civilian installation . . .”

“Then that isn’t why Rondymense is situated so conveniently at one edge of
your
main facility?”

“Happenstance. The Rondymense Yard predates the Fleet’s Vegan base by nearly a hundred years, you know.” When she nodded, because she did know, he went on. “It would please me personally, not as admiral in charge of Fleet Design, if you would duly consider recommendations and suggestions from my representative. Since young Rustin is your choice, I shall put him on detached service to the Rondymense Ship Yard.”

“He should get a promotion for accepting hazardous duty,” she said with a smile. “And another one if our mutual efforts produce results.”

“Are you well acquainted with Caleb Rustin?”

“Never met him before the other evening. But he has an impressive record—good engineering aptitude, cleverly displayed when he did that mid-space repair to the comcomplex a meteor sheared off the old
Aegean Sea.
What he jury-rigged that day has been translated into standard equipment to prevent any similar accidents. And he’s obviously being monitored for further promotions. At least in the Design division.”