“Or limit the collateral damage from enemy strikes, if it ever came to that,” said Nawab Dayan. He looked to Sikander. “Where should we begin?”
Sikander studied their surroundings before replying. This was the reason his father had suggested he accompany them on this side trip: Sikander’s professional experience made him the North best able to assess Mohali Qila’s potential value. “I’m not an expert in construction techniques or facilities,” he began. “I’ve spent my career driving ships, not building them. That said, I’d like to start by looking over the yard’s power station and the machine sheds. You can rebuild or replace administration buildings in a matter of weeks, but it could take years to order in heavy machine tools or build new fusion generators if those are in bad shape. Down this way, I think.”
They set off down an access road that sloped gently down toward the large buildings by the island’s concrete wharf. Along the way they passed several large dry docks, now standing open to the water. Sikander decided that they probably needed work after years of disuse, and paused to point them out. “Better have the technicians check the dry docks’ pump systems and the gate mechanisms, too. That sort of machinery might be hard to find in Kashmir.”
“Do we need the dry docks?” Gamand asked. “Starships can land, after all.”
“If you want to work on anything bigger than a corvette, yes. Large ships are too heavy to rest on a planet-surface docking cradle without damage, but they can sit in water just fine.” Sikander eyed the Mohali docks, trying to gauge their actual size—three hundred meters or so, he guessed. That was certainly more than any Kashmiri construction effort would need for a long time. While the induction drives of a modern starship could easily handle powered flight in a planetary atmosphere, that didn’t mean it was easy to find a place to park a couple of hundred thousand tons of steel. For that reason the largest ships generally remained in space, making use of the orbital transportation infrastructure … if, that is, a planet had any. Srinagar and Jaipur were still in the process of industrializing their orbital space, so surface shipyards would likely remain useful for years to come. “You might want to have your technicians look into subdividing the docks so that work can proceed on more than three hulls at a time, if they’re small enough to fit.”
Nawab Dayan nodded to his personal secretary, a lean young man in an Aquilan-style business suit. “Omvir, make a note of that, will you?”
“Yes, Nawab.” Omvir Bhind quickly jotted something down on his dataslate as they continued on their way.
They continued to the machine sheds, where Sikander found that most of the yard’s heavy machinery was still in place—in all likelihood it had simply been too expensive to move when Mohali Qila had been shut down. The power plant, on the other hand, was a disappointment. Only bare concrete floors and disconnected power conduits remained to show where the original generators had once stood. “I think you’ll need to order a new fusion plant,” Sikander observed. “Altair United or Reed-Nagra make good ones, but I couldn’t tell you what it will cost or how long it will take.”
“I believe the answers are ‘too much,’ and ‘too long,’” Gamand said. He shook his head. “I’ve been looking into generators for some other investments. It turns out that fusion plants are a bottleneck for many industrial concerns. The waiting list is years long.”
“Perhaps it was too much to hope that Harsha Pransa had left the place ready for immediate reactivation,” Nawab Dayan said. Mohali Qila had formerly served as a shipyard and naval base for Harsha’s seagoing navy in the days when Harsha had been an independent nation, before Aquila had forcibly united Kashmir under the Khanate. Similar mothballed military facilities could be found in Ishar and most of the other former nawab states. “Ah, well. Omvir, add one industrial fusion plant to the project requirements, if you please. If it’s a long wait, we might as well put our names on the list as soon as we can.” He looked at the empty power station one last time, then headed for the door.
Outside, they found a long-disused lunch area with plain concrete benches beneath the shade of overgrown trees. It overlooked Mohali Harbor and the city skyline, a few kilometers away. Nawab Dayan took a seat, slowly lowering himself into place while Gamand stood close by, unobtrusively ready to help. “Too much walking for me, I’m afraid,” Nawab Dayan said, breathing heavily. “My doctors keep telling me to rest more, but it is easy to forget myself in such fine weather.”
“Shall I have your flyer brought down closer, Nawab?” Omvir Bhind asked.
Nawab Dayan nodded. “That might be best.” The secretary hurried off, speaking into his comm device; the older man gazed out over the bay and the colorful sailboats in the distance. Then he looked to Sikander. “What do you think? Can we use this place?”
Sikander considered the question carefully. “Assuming you can replace the power plant, I see no reason why the shipyard couldn’t be brought back into service. You’ll be limited to small or medium-sized hulls, so you shouldn’t plan on building interstellar bulk carriers here. But I couldn’t tell you whether it’s a sound investment or not.”
“It isn’t,” Gamand said, grimacing. “We’ll lose tens of millions.”
“Then I guess I don’t understand why you’re interested in it, Father. Foreign builders with mass-production techniques are going to undercut your prices; you’ll sell any ship you build here at a loss. For that matter, the Aquilan-owned asteroid yards at Nun Kun or Sadhna are already capable of turning out bigger and more competitively priced ships than you’ll be able to build in Mohali for ten years or more. Buy a stake in one of the existing yards if you want to diversify the family industrial holdings.”
“Call it an investment in the future,” Nawab Dayan replied. He waved a hand to indicate the city across the bay. “A shipyard here would employ thousands of Mohalis. Those Mohalis will learn to build ships—yes, ordinary lighters and tugs and workboats for now, but someday they’ll build ships with warp rings that can go to other stars. We’re not just investing in a shipyard. We’re investing in shipbuilders.”
Mohalis? Or does Father have someone else in mind? Sikander gave the nawab a sharp look, thinking about their conversation during the flight. Dayan Singh North had a hundred military or industrial experts in his employ who could tell him more about what was involved in launching a shipbuilding business than he could. Today’s visit isn’t about finding out what I think about a family investment in Mohali Qila. It’s about showing me something I could do at home. He had to admit that the idea held a certain attraction. Kashmir wouldn’t be building its own battle fleets any time soon, but laying the groundwork for an independent, domestic shipbuilding capability … that would be a worthy challenge. And while we’ll never build battleships at Mohali Qila, we might someday build fine torpedo boats for the Khanate Navy. Wouldn’t that be something?
The nawab’s transport appeared through the trees, its drive plates crackling in the humid air, and settled down lightly on the wide concrete wharf. Omvir Bhind returned, and bowed to Sikander’s father. “Nawab, we’re due back in Sangrur in five hours,” he said. “Shall I reschedule your evening events?”
“No need, Omvir. I believe that we’ve seen what we needed to see here.” The nawab got to his feet, and gave Sikander and Gamand a quick smile. “Come on, you two. Your mother will have my head if we’re late for dinner.”
2
Jaipur, Kashmir System
High summer in Srinagar’s southern hemisphere turned into a beautiful spring day on neighboring Jaipur after a short hop across the Kashmir system. Jasmine and frangipani in full bloom adorned the vast lawn of the Norths’ Long Lake estate. Luxurious power yachts rested alongside the long wooden dock or lay at anchor just offshore, while others serenely cruised past the estate. Hundreds of guests wandered the grounds, chatting with each other in small groups or partaking of the expansive buffet set out by the estate staff. Sikander lounged on a low fieldstone wall that divided the house’s patio from the lawn, gazin
g out over the colorful assembly and nursing a glass of iced tea. Opening Day of boating season was an excuse for the Norths to throw a lavish party at Long Lake, and this was the first time in ten years or more that he’d been home for the occasion.
An especially lavish yacht rumbled by on the lake. The Reel family boat? he wondered. Or does that one belong to the Kings? If there were two Jaipuran families wealthier than the Norths, the Reels and the Kings might be them; the boat had to be thirty meters, or close to it. It struck him as a little over the top, but it certainly was a handsome vessel. We could build those at Mohali Qila. Hull fabrication, system design, and generators are much the same between modern spacecraft and watercraft. A luxury product line might help the yard get to the break-even point faster. But how do you go about convincing the people who can afford that sort of toy that you’ve got a premium product to offer? Find a prestige client to begin with, I suppose.…
“Good God. I’m actually thinking about it,” Sikander muttered. He had a ship to get back to at Neda and a career to continue in the Commonwealth Navy—important duty, honorable and prestigious if not quite so prominently in the public eye as a prince’s duties often were. More to the point, he was good at it; his military service was not just a job, but a calling. Perhaps his father was slowing down a little, but the family’s affairs were in good hands under Gamand, and there were plenty of other Norths—Manvir, Usha, his cousins Amarleen and Dilan—ready to look after things in Kashmir. Then again, serving closer to home someday would be just as honorable, and perhaps just as important.
“Ah! There you are, Sikander.” Begum Vadiya North glided up to join him, dressed in an elegant blue kameez with a matching scarf. “Hiding from our guests?”
“Not at all. Simply enjoying the afternoon and taking it all in.”
“It would be nice if you mingled a little bit. You’re away so much that our friends and neighbors never have the chance to see you.”
“I am mingling!” he protested.
“By yourself, it seems. I don’t think that is how it’s done.” His mother nodded in the direction of the party below. “Our friends ask after you when you’re gone, you know. They’re very curious about where you’re serving and which planets you’ve visited and whether I think you’ll come home soon. But if they see you up here brooding all by yourself they assume you wish to be left alone. Go be sociable!”
Sikander bowed in mock surrender. “Fine. I suppose I wasn’t mingling, Mother. But in all honesty I don’t recognize many of the people here. It’s been a long time since I was home for one of these.”
“All the more reason to make an effort to meet our guests today,” Vadiya said. “Come with me. My son is home for a few days, and I intend to show him off while I can.”
“If it makes you happy.”
“It does,” she replied. Begum Vadiya led him down from the patio to the party on the lower lawn, and before Sikander could catch his breath, they were surrounded by partygoers. This was his mother’s world: Nawab Dayan engaged in Jaipur’s social calendar grudgingly, but Begum Vadiya was born for this stage. She greeted scores of people Sikander had never even heard of by name, offering a different expression of welcome or a polite inquiry about one person’s health or the college interests of another’s children without a moment’s hesitation. It never failed to amaze Sikander—Vadiya North had demonstrated again and again that graciousness and leadership in these circles was just as much a part of governing effectively as anything his father did as Nawab of Ishar. He found that he remembered more people than he thought he would. Some of his parents’ friends seemed older than he recalled, but then again he’d spent little time on Jaipur since leaving for High Albion at eighteen. Naturally, he also found that a few of his own childhood friends and schoolmates now had families and careers. It turns out that Jaipur doesn’t remain frozen in time when I’m away, he realized.
“Sikander, you remember Mrs. Lawton and her daughter Jaya?” Begum Vadiya said, making yet another introduction as they drifted into an open-sided pavilion close by the lakeshore.
“Of course,” he answered. “A pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Lawton. And you, too, Jaya.” Nira Lawton, the wife of a wealthy sirdar and longtime North ally, looked much the same; as long as Sikander could remember, she’d been a rather plump and motherly sort. Jaya, on the other hand, had been a few years behind Sikander in school. He remembered her as a skinny teenager, but now she stood ten centimeters taller than her mother and looked absolutely stunning in a flowing green kameez.
“Sikander!” Mrs. Lawton embraced him as if he were one of her own children. “How good to see you home! Where are you stationed now? Will you be staying long?”
Jaya simply smiled. “Hello, Sikay. Nice to see you.”
“Nira, you’re smothering my son,” Begum Vadiya said with a laugh. “You know, I’m glad we ran into you. I’ve been meaning to ask you about the Lake Days charity auction. Do you mind mixing a little association business with pleasure?”
“Oh, certainly!” The two older women drifted away, chattering about the next event on the calendar.
Sikander found himself standing beside Jaya, the two of them momentarily alone in the pavilion. Jaya watched their mothers move off, and gave a small snort. “Well, that’s certainly a little suspicious,” she observed. “I know for a fact that there’s nothing about that auction that hasn’t been hashed out any time in the last twenty years or so they’ve been holding it.”
Sikander gave her a sympathetic look. “You don’t think—?”
“My mother’s been throwing me in front of every eligible bachelor in Ishar since I graduated, and that was nine years ago. But I have to admit I thought your mother was above that sort of thing.”
“Normally, she is. In fact, she hasn’t ever said a word to me about ‘finding someone’ or ‘settling down.’ It’s just a look she gives me from time to time.” Sikander shook his head. His mother was rarely so transparent. Was it possible that she and Nira Lawton had hit upon the ploy of allowing him and Jaya to discover they shared a similar predicament, and see whether that sparked anything? Oh, that’s devious, he decided. Well, two could play at that game. “I suggest that we foil our mothers’ efforts by doing exactly what they hope we will, and sticking close by each other for the rest of the afternoon. That should stop them from trying to arrange any more unexpected introductions for either of us, and in all honesty, I’d enjoy catching up a bit.”
Jaya raised her glass in salute. “You’re smarter than you look—that would certainly serve them right. Count me in.”
“Great. Let’s get something to eat, then.”
They made their way over to the buffet pavilion; Jaya took Sikander’s arm, staying close beside him. He had to admit that wasn’t an unwelcome development; she had beautiful hazel eyes, long black hair, and an easy laugh. As teenagers, he and his brother Devindar had both been smitten with Jaya’s older sister Hamsi—in fact, they’d once stolen the family yacht to go over to the Lawton estate in a ridiculous effort to impress her. Jaya used to be the tag-along little sister they’d had to put up with in order to get close to Hamsi. Not so little now, Sikander realized—thirty or so, if his math was right.
“I hear you’re the captain of a starship,” Jaya said once they’d filled their plates and retreated to a pair of wooden deck chairs by the water. “What’s that like?”
“Not quite as romantic as it sounds. The Commonwealth Navy likes its paperwork, that’s for certain. But I’ve got a good crew, and my ship’s just finishing up a refit—I’m looking forward to putting her through her paces.” He dunked a carrot stick into some dip. “How about yourself? What do you do?”
“Fashion designer, believe it or not. I’ve got my own company, and we’re doing well. You can find my dresses in high-end stores throughout the system.” Jaya grinned. “In fact, your mother’s wearing one of my designs today. And she looks great in it.”
“Really? I had no idea!” Sikander nodded at
Jaya’s flowing tunic. “Is that one of yours, too?”
“No, this is a Patel I bought last week. I feel that it’s a little, well, immodest to wear my own designs.”
“Did you study design in school?”
“A little, but my real interest was business. Dresses are only the visible part of what I do—building a global brand, that’s the real challenge. I was fortunate to begin with the family money, of course, but I paid back every credit of that five years ago. Mostly I worked hard and studied the market to figure out the best places where I could carve out a little space of my own. I wanted to earn any success that came my way.”
“So you’re a captain of industry, so to speak. What’s that like?”
“Not as romantic as it sounds!” Jaya laughed. “I mean that in both senses of the word. I don’t get to spend very much time on the design work anymore because managing the business demands most of my attention. And my mother worries about my prospects because I’m really too busy to date.”
“Then we’d be great together,” said Sikander. “As it turns out, I’m never around.”
He timed it perfectly; Jaya had a mouthful of champagne she half snorted through her nose. “Oh, damn it! You did that on purpose!” she said after she recovered.
“Like you said, I’m smarter than I look.” He grinned and got up. “Stay right there. I’ll get you another.”
* * *
Sikander wound up enjoying the Opening Day party more than he’d thought he would. Jaya Lawton was good company, and their plan seemed to work: As long as they were together, Nira Lawton and Vadiya North avoided bringing any other well-pedigreed single people around for them to meet. He learned that the business of Kashmiri high fashion was more serious than he would have ever guessed, and in turn Jaya questioned him for an hour or more about his experiences on far-off worlds; she hadn’t ever traveled outside Kashmir. She was especially curious about his tour of duty in the Tzoru Dominion, and somewhat disappointed by how little attention he’d paid to Tzoru clothing and design motifs—“I’m always looking for unusual inspirations,” as she explained it. When evening came and the party began to wind down, he was tempted to see whether her interest extended as far as he thought it might, but he settled for a chaste kiss on the cheek; he would be on his way again in just a few days, after all. That might have been the ideal situation for something casual, but given how close their families were, Sikander decided it might be wiser not to ask for trouble.
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