Nimisha's Ship

by Anne McCaffrey

  XII

  TO SUGGEST THAT the rest of that auspicious birthday was anticlimactic would be inaccurate. Once the skiff and gig had returned, Caleb ordered that the Five B’s stored gig and the disassembled shuttle be put into service as quickly as possible. However, the Poolbeg gig, piloted by an eager Nazim, would accommodate quite a few, if they didn’t mind a little crowding on the short hop to the Broken Bird. Ool and Ook indicated that they would be guides for a tour of their ancient vessel. There was space to accommodate the senior officers of the Five B: Caleb, Kendra, Chief Engineer Hadley, and Tim to act as interpreter. The officers were fascinated and frustrated at the number of sections of the crushed ship that couldn’t be accessed.

  “The Sh’im don’t know much about the ship really, sirs,” Tim said. “Jon thinks it came down about a hundred and fifty of our years ago, and the Sh’im life span is only about thirty, so it’s dim, dark history to them.”

  “Would they mind me poking about?” Hadley asked, seconded by Nazim.

  Tim made the request. “No, not since you arrived in such a fine ship with no marks on it at all.” He grinned.

  “I gather they came through the wormhole,” Caleb said, “but the ship doesn’t appear capable of making a surface landing. Not the right design.”

  “I got into one of the cargo holds, Commander. They did have landing craft, but they’re all messed up. And, sir,” Tim went on, grinning with mischief, “don’t tell ’em you didn’t come through the wormhole. They were real impressed with the Fiver having only a few scratches. Since there’re none on the Five B, it’ll raise you in their eyes if they think you did even better.”

  “Good point, Tim,” Caleb said while the others grinned. “Think Cherry’ll be able to sort out her translators, Ian?”

  “She won’t have any trouble, Captain,” Tim said. “I showed her a lot already, so she could get right to work.”

  They had reached the gig and now went aboard.

  “I’d like to see more,” Caleb said, taking the seat beside Nazim and peering out the wide front screen at the sun-parched landscape, “but I think we’d better return to the settlement and file an initial report.”

  “Yeah, there’s a lot to be done,” Tim said with a grin. “But your being here is the best. Of course, you wouldn’t be here if the Necklacing wasn’t to be done, would you?”

  “Not entirely, Tim. We came to rescue Nimisha once we knew where to find her. However, the Necklacing is an event we have looked forward to now for a long time,” Caleb remarked. Then he and the others took the short trip up and over the cliff, observing the battery installations where busy Sh’im were servicing the tubes, and down to the landing strip. “I see that the gig is missing.”

  “I think Globan promised to take Cherry and Mareena to see the avian corpses,” Tim said. “They’re xeno and biologist, aren’t they? That’s what they told me during the raid. Right now’s a very good time for them to record the scavengers.” He gestured directly east and then to the north where most of the avian corpses would be.

  When they landed and disembarked, Tim said something to the dark-coats, who shook their heads.

  “If you’ll excuse us now, sir,” he said. “They’ve got to go, too.”

  The dark-coats, shading their eyes, bowed formally to the humans and set off at a good pace beside Tim, heading for the settlement. That there was great activity was obvious by comings and goings and the construction of some sort of a circular edifice, being garlanded by colorful summer foliage and blossoms.

  “That’s a nice lad,” Hadley said. “Not at all self-conscious and certainly knowledgeable.”

  “Makes a nice change from the kids in the restrictive upbringing in some of our planetary societies,” Kendra remarked.

  “I’d say that the most amazing aspect is that the four of them survived as long as they did,” Caleb said. “I’ll want to learn more of their history. Later. Right now, we have reports to make.”

  As soon as the officers had left on their tour of the Sh’im wreck, Nimisha escorted Cuiva to the Fiver. Jon accompanied them, and Perdimia followed a short step behind, carrying the long Coskanito Necklace case and the dress box.

  “See the scrapes, Cuiva, dear.” Nimisha pointed to the marring on the port side. “Helm kept damage to a minimum.”

  “Quite a feat, as you’ll be able to appreciate,” Jon said, “when you see the condition of the other wrecks on Erehwon.”

  “So we came the safer way,” Cuiva said, not quite concealing an eager nervousness. “This is a very pretty valley,” she added, glancing beyond the landing field and its hangar to the Sh’im cliff and its settlements. “Is that large house over there where your friends live?” she asked.

  “Yes, thanks to the prefab units in the freighter pod we found—”

  “You found, Nimi,” Jon corrected her.

  She rolled her eyes at his qualification. “All of us,” she began in a starchy tone, “were extraordinarily lucky that so much of its cargo had been destined for a colony. We could use everything there was.”

  “Weren’t there any survivors?” Cuiva asked softly.

  “None we ever found,” Nimisha said gently, patting her daughter’s arm. “We think it originated in the Second Diaspora, so it’s quite old. I don’t know how they managed to fly such a crate, much less expect it to reach its destination. Which it didn’t. Oh, dear,” she added, for muted howls could plainly be heard through the open hatch.

  “They’re in good voice today,” Jon said with a chuckle as Nimisha hurried up the stairs ahead of them.

  “They’re hungry,” Nimisha explained in a slightly apologetic tone. “Ah, food is on the way,” she added as a Sh’im female, clasping three feeding bottles to her furry chest, made her way from Cater to the first cabin. The Sh’im shook her head at Nimisha and kicked the half-closed door open. Nimisha caught sight of Tezza Ashke inside the room, jiggling Tyrone, who was always loudest when hungry, his face contorted and red with outrage.

  With an inaudible mutter, Perdimia pushed past the others and hurried into the room, closing the door on all the hungry voices.

  “That’s good of her,” Jon said with a sigh of appreciation. “D’you think she might take over? Or is that outside of her expertise, Cuiva?”

  “I suspect not, considering the alacrity with which she reacted,” Nimisha said, grinning, and turned to look at her daughter.

  “As I’m now fourteen, if not yet Necklaced, and I’m certainly not anywhere near Lady Vescuya or Lord Vestrin, I don’t think I need a bodyguard anymore.” Cuiva caught and held Jon’s eyes.

  “Not with both your mother and me to be sure of your safekeeping,” Jon said with a courtly bow.

  “Thank you, Jon,” Cuiva said with gentle dignity. “I’ll need to know a lot more about this world. Before I went into cold sleep, Caleb explained that, once we found you”—Cuiva put her fingers firmly around her mother’s arm—“he never doubted we would, you know.” Nimisha nodded. “Even when we got here . . . ‘nowhere’—” Cuiva giggled while the other two grinned at her amusement. “—he said we’d have to send a pulse—which they have managed to speed up by”—another giggle—“three months and then wait for its answer. Because what happens next depends on what’s been found here. And you certainly have found a lot. All exciting, too!”

  “Tomorrow your mother and I demand the honor of showing you around, Lady Cuiva,” Jon said with a wink at Nimisha.

  “But it’s been an exciting morning, young lady, and if I may be so bold as to interrupt your reunion, I think a short nap might be advisable,” Doc said.

  “I was about to suggest one,” Nimisha said, “but we could use another snack. Cater, have you something savory on hand? This morning’s raid shorted me on breakfast.”

  “I do, Lady Nimisha, and Helm has informed me of Lady Cuiva’s special needs. May I welcome you to Erehwon, ma’am?”

  “I’m very glad to be here, I assure you, Cater, and happier to be awake again.
But Mother,” Cuiva said, turning appealingly to Nimisha, “how long do I have to eat that awful stuff?”

  “I have prepared a broth and toast, Lady Cuiva,” Cater said with bright encouragement.

  “I’ll leave you, then, since you have Perdimia to help now. I’ve got some checking to do.” Jon bent to kiss Nimisha’s cheek, gave her daughter a quick bow and a grin, and then strode away.

  Cuiva waited only until she could no longer hear his footsteps and then she smiled joyfully at her mother. “Kendra will be so relieved, Mother.”

  “Ah, I thought that was the way the wind blows,” Nimisha said.

  “She’s nice, and a very good mathematician. I learned a lot from her.”

  “I’m told you qualified as a Junior Officer. And signed off very high in all the specialties.” Nimisha gave Cuiva a big hug for her achievement.

  Cuiva flushed. “Well, I had to learn all I could if we were to find you, my mother, so I thought learning about astronomy, mathematics, physics, and all that might prove useful.”

  “Which it still can, since it would appear that we’re stuck here for at least two years—unless they’ve also made significant changes in how to speed up pulse messages. Now eat, my pet,” Nimisha said.

  “Then can I meet my siblings?” Cuiva asked, looking over her shoulder at the closed cabin door.

  “Yes, and then you may all have a morning nap.”

  When Casper and Syrona got back to their quarters, they found neat packages awaiting them.

  “Now that’s real thoughtful,” Casper said as he saw the tropical-weight dress whites. Since the hat was on top, he settled it to his head at the proper angle. “Someone’s clever at guessing sizes.”

  “That tunic’s a new cut,” Syrona said. She fingered the material. “Much lighter, too. You won’t know you’re wearing it.” She held up trousers that had a crease almost sharp enough to cut a hand. “I guess I’ve got the same,” she said with a sigh. She and Nimisha had fashioned a very elegant sarong-length skirt and sleeveless top for the Necklacing. Nimisha could design clothing as well as spaceships.

  “We can change once the ceremony’s over, but we are Navy,” Casper said, appreciating her reluctance after spending so much time making the special outfit.

  “Are we, Casper? Still?”

  “Until otherwise notified.” Then he added, in quite a different tone of voice, “I don’t know about you, Syrie, but I’d hate to have to leave here. We’ve made such progress, and there’s so much I want to see done.”

  “Me, too,” she agreed softly, turning away to open her parcel. “Well, at least we won’t swelter,” she said, tilting her uniform hat at a civilian angle on her head. “I’ll have to do something with my hair after all.” She’d let it grow long and usually wore it in a braid.

  “Braid it up, like you used to. I’d hate to see you cut your hair, dear. But I sure need a trim if I’m to be correct in uniform again,” Casper said, regarding himself in a mirror that had been retrieved from the Poolbeg.

  Syrona was doing that for him when Tim burst in, full of his successful escort duty.

  “Chief Engineer Ian wants to see as much as he can of the Broken Bird and the freighter and that ancient wreck that Nimisha found and Nazim’s one o’olio of a pilot. Ook and Ool said so. With two gigs, the skiff, and two Fivers, can we do more exploring now, huh?”

  “I shouldn’t be at all surprised,” Casper said, grinning at Tim’s ebullience.

  “Hey, Casper, looks good,” Tim added, then frowned as he peered into the open parcels. “Don’t I get new clothes, too?”

  “You will also notice that these are uniforms, and twelve is too young even to be a cadet,” Syrona said with mock severity. “You’ll be a lot cooler in the clothes I made you than we will come noontime. We’ll be changing out of uniform as soon as we can, I assure you. Now go shower. You’ve got rust on your legs and arms again. Showing off in the Broken Bird, were you? You be sure to put antiseptic on any cuts under all that dirt, hear me?” She listened for acquiescence delivered in a disgusted tone of voice.

  Then she ran one hand over the smooth fabric of the dress whites until Casper changing into his uniform, noticed her apathy.

  “What’s the matter, Syrie? You’re not annoyed by the whites, are you? I think it was a damned nice gesture so we wouldn’t have to wear the only proper attire we have left.”

  Syrie sank on to the end of the bed, her face at once sad and angry.

  “When I think of what we went through . . . never knowing . . . and all our friends dying, the children . . .” Tears leaked from her eyes, and Casper immediately settled beside her. She tried to push him away. “I’ll get your brand-new tunic all wet.”

  “And it’ll dry in five minutes outside. Now what’s the matter? This isn’t like you.”

  “Why, if Nimisha hadn’t got trapped by that wormhole . . .”

  “Oh, Syrie, darling, that’s not fair. You know that searches were made for us. But Nimisha managed to get a Mayday out. We didn’t. No one knew where to look for the Poolbeg. Anyway, Globan told me while we were rigging the tarpaulin that Navy listed the Poolbeg at the top of its ‘look-for’ list, and every Explorer ship went out with its specs and crew complement. They even had details rooting through junkyards now and then, in case parts of the Poolbeg could be located. And an undercover agent in that pirate gang that occasionally raids in the Sirius sector. We’d’ve been found, sooner or later.” He chuckled, catching her chin with gentle fingers and making her look at him. “Cherry told Globan that Cuiva was so determined to find her mother that everything she learned on board the Five B was aimed at doing just that. Cuiva pestered the life out of Hadley, who’s the astronomer on the Five B. And drained Kendra Oscony of advanced maths. And signed off on all the major specialties as a Junior Officer. That girl would have searched for her mother for the rest of her life. For that matter, so would Captain Rustin, even after he paired off with Kendra. Seems he said he owed Nimisha and he was going to pay her back if it took his lifetime, too.”

  Syrona began to sniffle again. “I didn’t think I could have such mean thoughts about Nimisha after all she’s done for us! But when the uniforms came . . .”

  “That wasn’t her idea, Syrie,” Casper said with a chuckle. “Rustin didn’t miss us sweating in the dress blues.”

  “No matter what I just said, Casper, I don’t want to leave here. Tim’s First Family on Erehwon. Back in any of the colonies he’ll just be a—nothing.”

  Casper gave an amused snort. “I doubt our Tim will be a nothing anywhere, Syrie. You know how smart Jon and Nimisha think he is, and I know he’s already proved it to Caleb Rustin. Look how he’s helping their semantics officer adjust her translator units.”

  “But what if we’re ordered to leave Erehwon, Casper?” she asked in a muted wail.

  Casper pulled her to her feet and into his arms, where he held her tightly, smoothing back the short hairs that had escaped her braid. “If it comes to that, Syrie, I’ll resign. You can, too, and we’ll all be colonists. We have that right under Exploratory Service regs.”

  “I’d forgotten that,” she said, and began to cheer up. She rubbed her cheeks dry. “I won’t take long to change, dear. That’s one advantage with uniforms,” she added, carefully picking up her new one and making for the bathroom she had designed for their private use. “No problems about what to wear and when to wear what.”

  Jon had had a chance for a private conversation with Caleb Rustin in his cabin, though Caleb dodged most of the initial questions about his current orders and if there were some pertaining to the shipwrecked crew.

  “There are two points that I didn’t mention in any of the pulses, Captain—”

  “Caleb, Jon.”

  “Thank you, sir . . . thanks.”

  “And what could you have failed to mention in the full reports I’m still reading?” Caleb asked, gesturing to the disks on his desk.

  “The first oddity is that, when I computed
the vector of the wreck we found in space on our way to Secondo, it had not—” Jon paused. “—come from the same area of space in which our wormhole ejected us. Of course, as we know now, that wormhole moves about on the other side; after all, it caught the space station and Meterios, who were both supposed to be well beyond its range. So—” Jon hesitated again, dubious. “I wonder if there could be more than one wormhole emptying into this general vicinity.”

  Caleb considered that for a long moment. “We know so little about wormholes that you could be right.”

  “I’d rather not be,” Jon said ruefully.

  “Hmmm, yes, I agree. You said two points?”

  “Yes, and maybe it is part of the first. On our way back from checking out the third M-type planet, the one Nimisha calls Tertio, I answered a muted alert from Helm. Nimisha was sleeping a lot just then, pregnant with the twins. I certainly didn’t want to wake her unnecessarily. What alerted Helm was an old emission trail.”

  “It was?” Caleb sat up straighter, elbows on the armrest, his fingers linked. “How old? What sort of fuel trace?”

  “That we couldn’t establish with any accuracy, but several months old at the least. The course just brushed the heliopause of Tertio. We diverted to see if we could pick up stronger traces. It was heading off our port side. Helm took readings of the stars in that direction, but none of them were close enough to be an immediate destination.”

  Caleb leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers thoughtfully.

  “That’s extremely interesting, Jon, because we found traces not that far from the beacon.”

  “You did? Meterios mentioned nothing.”

  Caleb snorted. “She only saw what she expected to see, although I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt in this instance. She was probably too busy catching loose pods and dodging the space station debris to notice anything as nebulous as that was, even three months earlier. But it’s there. And we have it on record. Did Nimisha mention seeing anything on her way in?”

  “No, and Helm would have mentioned a previous sighting. The one we saw was probably months old. Helm’s a lot more sensitive than other ships.”