Nimisha's Ship (36 page)

“Best ship ever built for this type of duty. Has Meterios departed for Vega III?”

“Captain Meterios and a crew member, gunnery officer Brad Karpla, have been stricken with an unknown, virulent allergic reaction to local vegetation. Medical advice has put them in cold sleep until they can receive treatment.”

Pause.

“How long has Meterios been in sleep?”

“Since this morning, Captain Rustin.”

Pause.

“She had orders to return immediately to Vega as soon as she had found Lady Nimisha and established her well-being, Captain.”

“Lady Nimisha pointed this out, but Meterios felt obliged to remain until you had arrived.”

Pause.

“Too bad. What of the rest of her crew and the surviving space station personnel?”

“They have all been accommodated in other quarters since their landing here and were not in contact with the affected personnel.”

Pause.

“That’s fortuitous.” Even the distortion of their relative distances did not quite rob the remark of its drollness. “Captain Svangel, I am sending you the necessary data for the
Acclarke
Helm to return immediately at the fastest possible interstellar speed to Vegan Fleet headquarters. Under the circumstances, it’s reassuring to know we have that capability in the Fours. They are much in demand.”

“I shall so enter that order in the log and dispatch the
Acclarke
within the hour.”

Pause.

“We shall send a pulse message, announcing the ship is in a quarantine status and must so be regarded. Have Helm answer any hail with that warning.”

“Yes, sir. Complying.”

Pause.

“Is Lady Nimisha still there, Captain?”

“She is.” With that, Jon tactfully removed himself from the cabin to allow them privacy. Nimisha had got over her initial reaction to the long-awaited news, although the brilliance of her eyes told him how excited she was.

“I’m told she has the Necklace with her, is that right, Caleb?”

Pause.

“Yes, it is. Lady Rezalla was determined that Cuiva’s own mother would do the honors, and Cuiva voluntarily went into sleep to be sure you were able to follow that tradition.”

“Has she changed much since I last saw her?”

Pause.

“You’ll notice it,” Caleb replied, and Jon—though he tried not to listen—heard a chuckle. “She’s not a little girl anymore. But I need to know more about the aliens, Nimisha. There’s some consternation about that situation, to judge by the messages at the beacon.”

“They must be relatively new,” she said, “but then, I have to admit we’ve been pretty busy and don’t strip the beacon as often as we should. Then the
Acclarke
XO told us the beacon had suffered damage so we actually didn’t receive earlier messages.” She felt a little miffed at Caleb for changing the subject. “The
Poolbeg
’s an exploratory ship, with appropriate crew, and the three survivors had enough training so that we could make a proper contact, according to FSP protocols, when we encountered the Sh’im. That’s what they call themselves. Their ship was also caught by the wormhole while they were on an exploratory voyage, hoping to find a new colonial world. So they fall into the same classification humans do. We’ve managed to adapt speakers to catch their language; some of their sounds are out of our auditory range, but we have established very good working relationships.”

Pause.

“We have a semantics expert on board who will be most disappointed,” Caleb said, and chuckled.

“I doubt it. We haven’t got more than basic words, action verbs, and general ethical ideas. No abstract philosophy or much history yet. We’re beginning to need better communication on the mechanical level, so they can learn how to manage some of our equipment.”

Pause.

“They’re that intelligent?”

“They probably have had space travel a lot longer than we humans have,” Nimisha said.

Pause.

“Accepted, Lady Nimisha. Now get that quarantined ship off your planet.”

Jon slipped back in. “Helm has programmed the
Acclarke
, Captain. You will be able to see her in the night sky in approximately two hours from my mark.” He watched the bridge chronometer. “Mark.”

Pause.

“Over and out for now. Check with you later.” The speaker went dead.

“How’d you program the
Acclarke
Helm from here?” Nimisha asked Jon, surprised.

He pointed to his wrist unit. “Actually, I did most of it when I went to check on Meterios. She was out of it already, so what she didn’t know wouldn’t give her a chance to complain.”

“I could almost feel sorry for— There she goes.” The
Acclarke
was making a stately vertical liftoff, her thrusters stirring up dust from the landing area. Nimisha flicked off a salute. “Bye, bye, Nesta. Oh, fraggit, Jon, did the crew have time to get their gear off?”

“Crew have already had their gear off a long time, luv,” he said with a chuckle. “Longer than Meterios knew.”

They went to the hatch to watch and saw that many were observing its departure, its crew saluting until the main engines kicked in with the telltale flare from the rear tubes.

As Jon pulled Nimisha back into the Fiver and into his arms, they both heard the muted wakening cries from the open comunit in the babies’ cabin.

“You’re not anxious, are you, luv?”

“Of Cuiva’s coming? No, no. I’ve longed for the sight of her.” She jerked her thumb at the babies’ cabin. “She’ll be surprised, but I think she’ll be glad to have brothers and sisters.”

“I hope so, because she’s got a passel of them.”

“Passel? Where do you get such language, Captain?”

“I was raised wrong.” He kissed her to prove it before they went to see to the needs of their offspring.

As the Five B neared its destination, conversations became easier, pauses shorter. Syrona conferred with Kendra Oscony on how she had constructed the comsat she had sent up, and Kendra approved. It would certainly suffice until the pulse message load increased. Oscony informed Syrona that there had been advances in pulse messaging: The current pulse time to this area of space had had two months shaved off the original year and four months. Jon and Casper spoke at length to Chief Engineer Ian Hadley, who was able to offer advice on the mining operations. Much botanical data was uploaded to bring Mareena Kawamura up to speed on those parts of Erehwon that had been investigated in any depth. There was plenty left to be explored and documented.

Nimisha had conversations with Perdimia Ejallos about her daughter and was much reassured that Cuiva had coped well when the voyage had been extended past the initial three months. Perdimia told her how hard Cuiva had worked to get her Junior Practical Officer’s rank and had “signed off” in all she had studied. She spoke also with Gaitama and with Nazim, who was disappointed that the
Acclarke
had already left. It was one of the ships that he had personally test-flown and he was sorry to miss her. Nimisha did not remark that he was the only one who did. Hadley had long discussions with Dr. Qualta and Valina Kelly concerning their progress in charting the new stars. He didn’t wish to duplicate their efforts, since there was so much to be analyzed and documented.

Fiver’s Cater was informed of the need for special dishes for Cuiva’s Necklacing ceremony, slightly complicated because it would have to be held outdoors so that the Sh’im might witness the event. Tim explained to his friends that it was a sort of coming of age for a dark-coat’s eldest child.

“I am
not
a dark coat,” Nimisha said, pretending to take umbrage and tossing over her shoulder the thick braids in which she kept her luxuriant dark hair. “Not by a century or so, but the analogy is basically correct,” she added, relenting when she saw that her teasing remark had startled Tim.

“The Sh’im are cooking up a storm and I’ve got to go hunting, Nimi,” Tim said, settling around his waist the heavy belt to which he attached his various weapons. He was tanned, well muscled, and looked more like an ancient primitive hunter than a modern space-age twelve-year-old. “Oh!” He turned back at the hatch. “Can I go on calling you Nimi? Will I have to start with the lady bit?”

“We’re all in this together, Tim, but it might be proper for you to be formal during the Necklacing ceremony, when we’ll all observe strict protocol as tradition decrees.” She’d said the last in a very haughty tone.

“Oh, of course, Lady Nimisha,” he replied in a plummy voice, having a keen ear for mimicry. He leaped from the hatch to the ground, giving the liquid-tongued call to assemble his fellow hunters. He was the best Sh’im speaker of all the youngsters: but then, as they grew older, they’d acquire a more useful vocabulary, too.

The hunters would be after a-alli today, the small treehoppers of Karpla’s last hunt. They used their wings only to glide from one branch to another in the forested slopes east of Clifftown. Their dark flesh was very tender and succulent, so the creatures were much prized as a protein source, but they were not easy to catch. Hunting them was reserved for special occasions and could occupy several days before sufficient numbers were acquired. Their feathers were of various hues, helping them blend into the blossoms or leaves of their roosts, and were used as adornments in the crowns, or wreaths, the Sh’im wore on special occasions. The down could be stuffed into winter robes for extra warmth, the offal used as bait in fishing, the tendons dried for thong ties, and bones crushed for fertilizer.

With so much to do, even with everyone organized to help, Nimisha did not have much time to worry about the long-awaited meeting with Cuiva, or the problem of explaining so many siblings.

In planning the actual landing, Caleb decreed that it should be dawn, to keep his promise to Cuiva that she’d be awakened on her birthday. Every human was awake well before sunrise that day, making last-minute preparations. Caleb had suggested a private breakfast for mother and daughter on board the Five B.

“The crew will want to be out and about and as far away from the B as possible the moment we land,” he said, chuckling. “And I need to have some time to speak to the other naval personnel before the ceremony begins.”

“That sounds ominous,” Nimisha said, wanting to be present at the first meeting between Jon and Caleb.

“Why should it? It’s to their credit that the three of them survived as long as they did,” Caleb replied. “Anyway, one of the pulses I collected from the beacon are commendations and promotions for them, which I will take great pleasure in presenting.”

“Oh, why weren’t they forwarded to us then?” Nimisha asked. A promotion for Jon would have given him more clout in dealing with Meterios.

“Navy regs,” Caleb said.

As the Five B settled gracefully onto the landing field at Clifftown in the predawn light, Captain Jonagren Svangel, Lt. Commander Casper Ontell, and Lieutenant Junior Grade Syrona Lester-Pitt, sweating in their dress blues—the only uniforms they had left—formed an escort for Nimisha, stylishly dressed in a cool tissue gown, one of a closetful of elegant outfits she’d never bothered to use once she landed on Erehwon. She and Syrona had altered the dress to fit Nimisha’s new dimensions.

The main hatch of the sleek golden ship opened, the steps were lowered, and the crew emerged, fanning out and trying not to break their attention stance to eyeball their new environs. All of them were in dress whites, the naval contingent saluting while those not in uniform placed their right hand on their hearts, a gesture that caused Nimisha’s heart to jump. Jon pressed her arm against him and then brought them both to face Caleb Rustin.

“Sir, Lieutenant Commander Jonagren Svangel, welcoming you and your crew to Erehwon,” he said, with a crisp salute.

“So good to see you, Caleb,” Nimisha said. She stepped forward and greeted him with the four cheek kisses of long-term friendship.

“It is very good to see you, Lady Nimisha,” Caleb said, bowing formally. “May I present the crew and its civilian members?”

“You may, of course.”

Then Caleb bent toward her and added in a murmur, “Cuiva is not quite awake yet, so we’re stalling a bit until she is.” He gestured toward the woman first in the lineup. “My executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Kendra Oscony, Lady Nimisha.”

Between Oscony’s smart salute and then her acceptance of Nimisha’s handshake their eyes met, and Nimisha’s smile broadened. She need not worry about Caleb. Kendra had paired with him on the voyage. Relieved on that score, Nimisha concentrated on meeting the other naval personnel. To both Gaitama and Nazim, she gave the two kisses that acknowledged their long acquaintance and her pleasure in seeing them again. Perdimia was last in line, and although Nimisha did not know her, she accorded the bodyguard two kisses and warmly shook her hand.

“I owe you much, Perdimia Ejallos, for protecting my daughter so diligently.”

Perdimia, flushing with pleasure at the accolade, dipped in a respectful curtsy. “She has been a pleasure to serve, Lady Nimisha.”

Then Jon introduced his shipwreck companions and the
Acclarke
Navy personnel who had remained behind, as well as the Wormhunter contingent. He introduced Valina Kelly, Roscom Granjor, and Adjudic Kwan, explaining the absence of the others by saying that Dr. Qualta had done a long night’s duty with her staff and they were sleeping late this morning.

“If you’ve granted shore leave, Captain Rustin, I think our group would be very happy to show your crew around a bit. The Sh’im aren’t up yet.” Jon gestured to the tip of the sun just showing over the forested eastern slopes. “Tim’s here to help with translations until your units can be programmed to Sh’im speech.”

“Ready when you are, sirs and ma’ams,” Tim said, lifting his translator from his chest in demonstration.

“Let me add that Tim is an indigenous human resident of Erehwon, having been born here,” Jon said, “as well as our most valuable translator.”

“I may ask for an hour or so of your time later, then, Tim Lester-Ontell,” Caleb said without any condescension.

“Happy to oblige, sir,” Tim said, beaming broadly.

Caleb turned to Nimisha then. “Now that we’ve acquitted the formal courtesies, Lady Nimisha . . .”