Nimisha's Ship (23 page)

“How much higher do they need to go?” Nimisha asked.

“Well, a repeller screen would keep them from the periodic attacks of the avians,” Jon said. “If Helm has sufficient parts to make them.”

“I do,” Helm replied, and Nimisha frowned.

“Why not?” Jon asked. “They’ve already shown us more edible vegetables and burrowing creatures than we were able to find. They’ve had a more balanced diet than we managed.”

“The terrain here is different,” Nimisha said.

“Not that much,” Jon said.

“It’s not that I object to offering what the Fiver has,” Nimisha began, not really sure how to present her real objection.

“I’d say it’s more the time it’ll take us to do installations, isn’t it?” Jon said, glancing sideways at her, one eyebrow raised.

“You come right to the point, don’t you?”

“I don’t see why not,” was his quick reply. He touched her arm lightly. “I do want to see what the other planets are like. Those orders remain whether or not we have the
Poolbeg.
In the light of what we now know, one of them might be Sh’im, and we can return them to their own civilization. Or tell their planetary leaders where they are.”

“They wanted to found a new colony. Basically, they have,” she said, almost resenting how well he read her body language.

“If their ship had landed intact, they’d’ve had more essential tools and equipment, as well as bodies, to found an efficient colony.”

“I don’t see what prevents us from giving them stuff from the freighter,” Casper said.

“Do we know they haven’t found it?” Jon asked. “They indicated that they’ve done some considerable exploring.”

“I think they would have mentioned it,” Syrona said. “Though that would have been a long way for their shorter legs to go. Most of the open pods we saw had been damaged in the drop. We didn’t see any intact ones that had been opened manually.”

“Good point,” Jon said. “More to cement good relations with them.”

“We are being candid?” Nimisha asked.

“As they have had space drive, even if none of those now alive ever flew a ship, I feel we should be as honest as possible,” Jon said. “I rather like them.”

“I do, too,” Nimisha began and then realized she had no reservations. Being open and forthright saved all the trouble of remembering what they should or should not say; or what useful technology they could give the Sh’im to improve on what they had already achieved. “Of course, we’d have to modify equipment for three-fingered hands.”

Jon grinned, and if he could read her body language, she could read his. He was relieved that she was willing to be open.

“They will need tools that give them a different leverage than we’d need,” Casper said thoughtfully. “Their body center of mass is at a different height above the ground, which requires a different lever length, and their smaller handspan means they would need smaller spans for tools.”

“Look, Nimisha,” Syrona said, “I know you’re anxious to investigate the other planets, so why don’t you and Jon go do that while Casper, Tim, and I stay here to help the Sh’im. Tim’s had so much fun with the young Sh’im . . . and I’d really like to stay here.” She glanced down at her hands, which were nervously pulling at the seams of her coverall.

Instantly Casper put a sympathetic arm about her shoulders. “Pregnant and all, I’d say that might be wiser, love.” He looked up at Jon and Nimisha, not exactly pleading but obviously siding with his mate. “And for Tim’s sake, too.”

“I beg your pardon, Syrona,” Jon said, executing an apologetic bow. “An excellent proposal, since priorities are pulling us in two directions. Two birds with one stone . . .”

“Where’s a stone here big enough to get one of those murderous avians, much less two?” Syrona asked, giving a nervous little laugh, but she was clearly relieved by the reception of her suggestion.

“We’ll stock the gig from Cater’s supplies so Tim won’t go without burgers,” Nimisha said, chuckling.

“I think he’s taking to what the Sh’im eat all the time,” Syrona said with another laugh, not quite as nervous. “Those nutty morsels, not the hot stuff.”

“So let’s take a group of Sh’im in the Fiver to the freighter wreck, shall we?” Jon proposed. “See what they can use from the pods. The Fiver can bring back quite a bit. When there’s enough here, we can go exploring.”

He glanced at Nimisha with a look of approval for the versatility of the ship. She waved a hand, accepting the idea. An exploratory voyage with him would certainly allow her to get to know him better. She liked him, but with Syrona and Casper so intent on their making a partnership, she felt herself resisting. She had the notion that he was resisting the pairing as well, which both put her in charity with him and made her wonder why he didn’t attempt to forward an interest. Maybe he resented being catapulted into an intimacy even though she knew she was feeling the strains of celibacy, possibly more than he was. Perverse of her, she knew.

Then more immediate concerns diverted her from such rumination.

Ool and Ook were surprised to see Helm’s tape of the freighter and the pods. And delighted when they understood that these supplies would be available to them. Even their most adventurous scout parties had been unable to traverse the mountain range that lay between the two wrecks. Nimisha had had Helm make maps of Erehwon from space, a Mercator projection, a Goode’s Homolosine, and a Lambert Azimuthal equal area for detailed views of smaller areas, plus modified cylindrical and conic projections for the hemispheres. Helm could also, on request, put up on any screen the 3-D spherical globe. She had him print up an Azimuthal for the area in which the freighter had come down, complete with topography.

The freighter had come down on the eastern edge of this continent, and to the south of the Sh’im, the formidable mountain range separating the two portions. Three very dark-furred Sh’im were fascinated by the maps, poring over them. They hooted loudly and with great appreciation when Helm screened the 3-D of Erehwon and they could watch it turning. Nimisha had him do the same for Vega III and old Earth. In their turn, they responded by unrolling carefully preserved star charts, printed on a flimsy material that Casper suggested was the Sh’im plastic analog. The colors were as bright as when they had first been printed; the designations of the various stars provided no clue to any of the humans or Helm as to their current galactic position. The Sh’im had colonized three different star systems, one quite far from the home world, which proved they had been space-faring for a significant period of time. None were apparently near Erehwon, so the Sh’im were probably just as lost and distant from their original star system as the humans were. Neither species took encouragement from that fact.

Ool and Ook quickly picked a group to go with the humans. Syrona chose to stay behind, as she was feeling oddly queasy. Doc ran a check on the fetus and found nothing untoward. For good measure, he administered a spray of broad multivitamin and trace minerals. He recommended some peace and quiet, with her feet up, and she was as glad to have the gig to herself while the others went on the Fiver. Tim was essential in any team working with the Sh’im.

“Good thing they’re on the small side,” Casper remarked as the furry bodies of the Sh’im took up most of the floor space in the main cabin of the spaceship.

“Warn them we’re taking off,” Jon told Tim, who was sitting with their guests.

“He hoots as to the manner born,” Casper said with due pride as Tim relayed the message.

“Not that they’ll feel much movement,” Nimisha said at the controls. She and Jon had arrived at a tacit arrangement: They took turns piloting the Fiver. She felt that was only fair. Jon was not only acting captain of his own group, but also a very deft pilot. She could not object to his taking turns and it allowed her to watch someone else obviously enjoying the command of the Fiver. “Take her up in a vertical lift, Helm.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Any reason you didn’t use Fleet usage?” Jon asked idly.

“This Fiver is a civilian ship,” she said with a grin. “The Fleet will program its own Helms, if they decide to use AI’s.”

“The Fiver survived the wormhole a lot better than the
Poolbeg
or the others,” he commented, jerking a thumb at the broken bird-ship in the rear screen. “If that’s what an AI can do, I’m for it.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Helm said.

“You’re welcome, Helm. That was one superior job of piloting to come through that wormhole with only a few scrapes.” He shook his head, apparently recalling the battering the
Poolbeg
had taken.

“Can we please see where we’re going, Nimisha?” Tim asked, leaning into the bridge area.

“Helm, if you would be so good,” Nimisha said.

“Of course, Lady Nimisha.” In the next instant there were startled hoots of the Sh’im and a rustling and moving about that made Jon look around the partition.

He was grinning broadly, but signaled a thumbs-up to reassure her about their passengers.

Later on, Tim had them line up at Cater’s dispenser worktop and gave orders for food and drink. Cater had accepted samples of the Sh’im edibles and was able to re-create them. Tim had a burger and served Jon and Casper. Nimisha had a cheese pasta dish and a salad, since they now had access to the fresh produce from the Sh’im gardens. The broad green leaf was neither spinach nor lettuce but had a definite and pleasant taste, more like fennel.

Even at cruising speed, it took several hours to make the trip. However, as it was the vernal season, they would have six hours of daylight in which to conduct their work.

The humans had arbitrarily decided which pods they’d open first: tools, blankets, some of the prefab building, the disassembled vehicles, and the repeller shields. If, for instance, the older Sh’im allowed those to be mounted on the cliff, the danger of stone-dropping avians would no longer terrorize them and the town could expand out of the crowded caves. The gardens could be extended and more edible leaves and roots provided, especially as they could put the repellers to work underground as well as over it. Further afield, the Sh’im gathered wild grains in season where it grew naturally. Although the harvesting was fraught with the peril of avian attacks, the Sh’im managed to keep casualties low. To protect their towns, they had devised a powerful catapult—similar in structure to the ancient crossbows. They were evidently good marksmen. While the humans had not seen the device in action, both Jon and Casper allowed that it would be as effective as the gig’s missiles. They were of two minds about installing a missile system on the cliffs. Nimisha had suggested that as long as the Sh’im had an effective defense, they should reserve their more advanced technology for the time being.

Then they were fast approaching the wrecked freighter, and Timmy was excitedly telling the passengers—in broken Sh’im—about the marvelous things they would soon see.

“Where shall I land, Lady Nimisha?” Helm asked.

Nimisha looked at Jon and Casper. “Near the biggest clump of pods. I think that constitutes a fair selection of what’s available.”

“Won’t they want to see the freighter?” Casper asked.

“They’d find it awkward climbing into it, I think,” Nimisha said. “Unless you have ladders available.”

“Point,” Jon said, “but I think we should take a couple of dark-furs on a tour to show good faith.”

“It’s not as if they could fly it away, is it?” Casper added.

“All too true,” Nimisha remarked wryly.

“I can’t remember if we closed the hatches on those skeletons,” Jon said, frowning. “We should have.”

“If there’s time, I’ll grab body bags and cover them up,” Casper said. “Leave it to me. We can hold a proper burial ceremony next time we’re back. I suspect we’ll be making additional trips. I know we’d have the gig while you’re gone, but Syrona wants a house, a proper house,” he said with a long-suffering sigh for the vagaries of his pregnant partner. “I think I do, too, complete with a fireplace for the cold winter nights Ay was talking about. Have you ever felt how thick the fur on him is?”

Nimisha nodded, for she’d had occasion to touch some of the weavers when they showed her their looms and what they were currently working on. It was a craft that had always fascinated her. She might try her hand at it when they got back from their exploration of the other two M-type planets.

Though none of them discussed the subject, once Helm had regretfully admitted that none of the primaries listed on the Sh’im star charts matched anything in his data files, they were individually coming to terms with the fact that, quite possibly, they might spend their lifetimes on Erehwon. That is, if one of the other planets was not gentler in its climate and indigenous species. Not that she was eager to leave the Sh’im and Erehwon. There were only four of them and not a sufficient gene pool. She’d have to have children by Casper, as Syrona had had one by Jon. Or more.

“They exude a sort of lemony smell, don’t they?” she observed, bringing herself ruthlessly back to the moment.

Helm set the Fiver down so gently there wasn’t so much as a bump.

“Well done, Helm,” she said and touched the control to open the two hatches.

The exodus was remarkably like a stampede as the Sh’im leaped daringly from the open hatch down the human-adult-sized steps to the ground. Jon, Casper, and Nimisha followed as Sh’im swarmed about the pods, hooting and ooing and dancing with excitement.

“Tools, I think,” Casper said, consulting the printout in his hand and going to the nearest pod on his list. “Jon, the next one has tools, too. Nimisha, you open the third one. Jon, go to the fourth on the left. It’s listed as prefab units. I’ll join you as soon as I open up.”

Though the Sh’im were small, they had unusual strength for their body size. They were also good observers and they needed only to be shown what to touch on the digital locks—each commodity had its own series of four numbers—and managed to undo the tight clasp.

“One way to teach them our numbers,” Jon said, pleased with their quickness.

Rather than requiring the Sh’im to scramble up and into high pods, Jon and Casper tipped those containers still upright to their sides for easier access. Soon enough, all the pods in that first strewing were open and the contents examined—even the farm tools that had been designed to be drawn by some four-legged draft animal. Neither Jon nor Casper—and certainly not Nimisha, who’d been city bred—could explain exactly what the more complicated equipment was used for, though they did recognize a plow.