“Aye, sir.” She slipped over to the seat he had vacated.
With an AI Helm, it was not actually necessary to maintain a watch schedule, but naval tradition required it.
In the main cabin, he found Lady Cuiva and Perdimia having a snack.
“All settled in?” he asked.
“Yes, Captain,” the two replied in chorus. Perdimia grinned and nudged Cuiva with her elbow.
“May I join you?”
“But of course,” Cuiva said, inclining her head in an imitation of her grandam.
Caleb ordered on his way to Cater’s dispenser and received the caffeine drink and the sandwich he’d requested, all neatly and appetizingly arranged on the naval crockery supplied to the unit.
“How long will it take us to reach . . . that place?” Cuiva asked.
“As soon as we’re past heliopause, we’ll translate into Interstellar Drive. Then it’ll be a week on IS before we return to normal space and begin the testing.”
“Just as my mother was going to do?”
“Just as I am sure your mother did do,” Caleb said.
“Everyone’s very nice,” Cuiva added after a moment’s silence.
“We had no trouble picking a crew when they heard the Five B was going out to be tested,” Caleb said.
“Even Hiska was pleased,” Cuiva said before taking the last bite of her snack.
“How could you tell?” Caleb was startled into asking.
“Oh,” and Cuiva waved an airy hand just like Lady Rezalla would, “Hiska talks to me.”
“You’re one of the privileged few.”
“But she talks to you, too, Caleb,” Cuiva replied, blinking, and that was the first time she had not hesitated about using his first name. He was making progress.
“On business matters only.”
“She said you’re very good,” Cuiva remarked.
Perdimia shot a surprised glance at Rustin, who had to chuckle at such a confidence.
“I’d never have known had you not told me,” Caleb said.
“Oh?” Cuiva’s eyebrows shot up and now she resembled her mother more.
“I think,” Perdimia interrupted gently, “that it’s time we said good night, Lady Cuiva. It’s been a very long and exciting day.”
Cuiva obediently slid out of the chair. “Thank you, Caleb, for allowing me along on this trip.”
So, Caleb thought, she prefers not to refer to the real reason she’s on board. That was fine by him. No reason to upset the child needlessly.
“I know your mother meant to take you out on the Fiver when she returned from the shakedown cruise,” he said, rising in deference to her rank. “Since I could appoint the crew, I asked for you to ride along with us.”
“We will find my mother, won’t we, Caleb?” Cuiva asked, her heart in her expressive blue eyes.
“Indeed we will, Lady Cuiva.”
Cuiva’s eyes were suddenly filled with tears and she took a deep breath. “If I may call you Caleb on board the Five B, you may certainly address me as Cuiva, Captain.”
With that, she pivoted on her heel and walked briskly toward her cabin.
“She’ll be fine,” Perdimia murmured before following her charge.
“And safe,” Caleb said to himself. He finished his meal and then went to his own cabin, to finish stowing his gear.
They were three hours away from the heliopause when Helm announced receipt of an encrypted message from Admiral Gollanch.
“We’re to meet a courier at these coordinates,” Caleb said after decoding the message. He was puzzled as well as annoyed. They were to heave to and await the courier’s arrival. He tapped the numbers into Helm.
“You don’t suppose there’s been news from—” Kendra broke off.
He had the same thought: there’d been contact with Nimisha. His chest was filled with a sudden surge of some conflicting emotions. He wanted above all else to have Nimisha safe and sound, but he also, almost equally, wanted the chance to test the Five B. If by any chance it was a fault in the ship that had caused her disappearance, rather than the wormhole, he wanted to know.
Both Caleb and Kendra were right. The courier had a copy of the pulsed message that had been intercepted by a small interstellar freighter on the outskirts of explored space. It contained a message from Nimisha giving all the information her Helm had been able to collect as to her location—a location so far away that it was estimated that the Five B, traveling at maximum IS speed, would take four years to reach it. Fleet and Navy had verified the pulse beam as genuine. If the pulse had taken nearly sixteen months to reach this side of the galaxy, would Nimisha still be alive? Caleb firmly edited that thought out of his mind.
“Has a message been sent back, confirming receipt?” he asked. Even if the return pulse took another sixteen months to get back, it would reassure Nimisha that rescue was on its way.
“Yes, Commander,” the courier said with a grin. “Like right then, saying you’d been ordered to those coordinates. I heard the CO say that updates will be sent to her on a regular basis.” Then he handed over to Caleb the disk containing the new orders.
“I’ve got additional supplies for you on board, Commander,” he added. “Admiral Gollanch’s respects. You’ll be away longer than you’re provisioned for. And these.” “These” were two packages: the sealed one had a note in Lady Rezalla’s angular hand tucked under the gold cord of the distinctive Coskanito wrapping. The second, larger one obviously contained gowns, and Caleb lifted the cover high enough to see folds of white and gentian-blue.
Caleb had little doubt that the Coskanito box contained Lady Cuiva’s necklace and he slipped it under his arm. The dress box he carefully put to one side while he gave orders for those on the Five B to help the courier crew unload the supplies. Well, the ceremony would be a few years late, that’s all, but he devoutly hoped that it would be Nimisha who conducted that important ceremony for her daughter somewhere and sometime.
Admiral Gollanch’s new orders to Captain Rustin were for him to proceed at maximum speed on IS drive to reach the beacon that Nimisha had had the good sense to release.
Handing the disk to Nazim, who was in the pilot’s chair, Caleb told him to give Helm the data. He took the packages and went to find Cuiva. She was dutifully doing lessons in the cabin she shared with Perdimia. Cuiva gasped when she saw the dress box.
“I’ve very good news, Cuiva,” Caleb said, gesturing for Perdimia to remain where she was. He sat on the edge of the bed. “Your mother’s been found. Or rather, she’s sent out a broad pulse that has finally been received. We’re going to make all haste to the coordinates, but I have to add that she’s very, very far away from where we are now.”
Cuiva struggled not to break into tears; it was to Caleb, rather than to Perdimia, to whom she turned for comforting.
“Don’t hold back the tears, Cuiva, dear,” Caleb said. “You’ve been brave a long while, and there’s just me and Perdimia here and we’ll never tell.”
She didn’t sob long, despite her intense relief at the news. She was very shortly in control, drying her eyes on the handkerchief Caleb produced. Then he handed over the Coskanito box, which she clutched to her chest.
“A pulse message sent by your mother from way the south side of the galaxy was picked up at the edge of explored space by an interstellar vessel and relayed to Fleet Headquarters. The message has been verified as originating from equipment only she had available. My orders are now to proceed at all speed to that point.”
Cuiva sniffled as she rocked slightly, the box in her arms. “So that’s why my grandam has sent this. So my mother herself can Necklace me in—” She looked at the ceiling, reckoning the time to her fourteenth birthday. “—one year and eight months.”
Caleb cleared his throat and looked anxiously at Perdimia for assistance.
“It’ll be longer than that to get where your mother is, Cuiva, luv,” he said as kindly as he could.
“But Mother has to put on my
Necklace!” Cuiva exclaimed, sitting upright in her anguish.
“And so she shall, but it’s going to take us roughly four years to reach that part of the galaxy, judging by the length of time it took the pulse to reach occupied space.”
“Four . . . years?” Cuiva’s voice squeaked in surprise. “But I’ll be too old to be Necklaced.”
“No, no,” Perdimia started to say.
“My mother has to do it—”
She burst into tears again and Caleb took her in his lap this time to comfort her, stroking silken hair that had the feel of her mother’s under his fingers. Hastily, he transferred his hands to her slender shoulders and back.
“Now, now, honey.” He rocked her soothingly.
“There’s cold sleep, Cuiva,” Perdimia said, gently smoothing Cuiva’s rumpled hair from her flushed and tearful face. “If Captain Rustin and Doc agree, you can go to sleep the day before you’d be fourteen and wake when we find your mother. Then she can properly Necklace you.”
That solution seemed to ease the tears, and Cuiva sat up on Caleb’s lap, still hugging the jewelry box.
“But you’ll all be older . . . and so will Mother, if it’s going to take that long to get there.”
“But you,” Caleb said, pushing one finger gently on the tip of her nose, as he would no longer dare to do to a son who was already in the Academy, “will be just fourteen. Which seems to be the important issue we have to resolve.”
“What about my grandam?” Cuiva sniffed, and then remembered her handkerchief and blew fiercely into it before wiping her cheeks. “She’ll miss the ceremony, and so will my cousins and uncles and aunts.”
“You’d really miss them?” Caleb asked teasingly.
“Not great-grandam Lady Astatine,” Cuiva admitted candidly. “And some of my cousins definitely. But there’s the celebration . . .”
“Nothing that Cater can’t match, if not exceed,” Caleb said. “I feel she’s quite capable of spreading the most impressive minor majority feast ever presented this very select company. Wherever we have to hold that all-important ceremony,” he added quickly.
While she considered that offer, Cuiva gradually eased her grip until the box settled to her lap. Now she handed it to Caleb.
“I think you’d better put this safely away then. Until we find Mother.”
“You could go to sleep now, if you wanted to,” Caleb suggested, but he heard Perdimia’s mutter of dissent just as Cuiva shook her head.
“No, I’ve lessons to learn,” Cuiva said firmly. “I want to know as much as I can from Commander Oscony, Chief Hadley, and Mareena. Then Mother will know I haven’t wasted travel time or the pains you took to be sure I had good instructors while I’m away from Acclarke. I’ll go to sleep”—she straightened her shoulders in a brave gesture—“the day before my fourteenth birthday.” She turned to Perdimia. “That’s the correct way to handle this problem, isn’t it, Perdi?”
“It is certainly one solution,” Perdimia said. “Perhaps Captain Rustin or Kendra or even Gaitama can think of another one. It’s good to examine all available options.”
“Well spoken, Perdimia,” Caleb said, rising from the bed, the Necklace case in one hand. “We’ll see what alternatives we can come up with.”
“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 frankl
y 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.”
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