Nimisha's Ship

Syrona did not comment and they walked on in silence and were almost to the wreck, where Timmy was squatting and looking up through holes in the hull.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Nimisha," Syrona said at last.

"I'm not upset, Syrona, but it doesn't hurt to have two optimists in this expedition, does it? I've a particular reason to need to be back at Vega in another-" She counted, "-eighteen months."

"Your daughter's Necklacing?" Syrona asked.

"That's it."

"Even at the best speed your Fiver can do, you might be late."

"You're as bad as Jon," Nimisha said, keeping rancour and exasperation out of her voice. She told herself firmly that Syrona had suffered a lot in sixteen years: She had been forced to be a realist.

The two men came swinging down, feet first, from the larger of the holes Timmy had been looking up at.

"There's a lot salvageable aboard her," Casper said cheerfully. "And with what Helm says is available in prefab units, both on the ship and spread out across the landscape, we could each have our own private quarters."

"That's what you think," Syrona said with some asperity.

"Yes, ma'am," Casper said, pretending to avoid a blow.

"When," Jon said, pausing for emphasis, "we have found the best possible spot to set up a more permanent colony." He grinned at Nimisha, and she realised she must not have concealed her dismay at that abrupt remark. "I include the other two unexplored worlds, which we definitely should investigate now that we can," he said with a placatory bow in her direction. "At least we have plenty of stores to start off with."

"I hesitate to mention this," Casper said with a rueful smile, "but I'm… hungry."

"Me, too, Cas, me too," Timmy exclaimed, grabbing Casper's hand and swinging himself about. Syrona nodded agreement.

"Unanimous?" Jon asked, looking at Nimisha. "No question of that," she said and led the way back to the Fiver.

When Timmy was engaged in eating and watching a vid, the two men told the women what they had discovered in the rest of the ship.

"I don't think there were any survivors, not with the damage to the bridge area. Below, we found skeletons-practically every bone in their bodies had been broken," Jon said soberly. "Helm augmented our findings by his sensor readings. The log data he's accessed so far indicated that they'd dumped fuel in the hope of surviving a crash landing. Maybe one or two did. Crew complement was eighteen on a vessel this size. We found twelve skeletons. We figure the other six would have been on duty on the bridge. Nothing could have got into the crew quarters. The doors were still shut. In fact, we had trouble prying them open."

"Helm reports accessing their names and home ports," Casper said. "Their families will benefit."

"If we can get a report back," Jon said with a diffident shrug.

Nimisha waited a moment, controlling her irritation. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Syrona give Casper an anxious look.

"You really are a pessimist, aren't you, Captain?" It took Nimisha all her self-control not to colour that remark with her true feelings.

"I've had to be… ma'am."

"Hey, you two, there aren't enough of us to be at each other's throats," Casper said, a placatory smile on his face.

Jon laughed and waved toward Casper. "The eternal optimist."

"I came, didn't I?" Nimisha said. She smiled all around the table. "The point is, we can improve our situations now, can't we? We can make a serious attempt at cultivating another alien species. We can investigate the other two M-type worlds. I'd rather one that didn't have as many predators if we want to be safe until… help… comes!" She stressed those words. "Because help will come." She glared at Jon and then at Syrona. "I am proof."

"Of what?"

"Oh…" Nimisha's patience was strained. "Proof that our technology is capable of finding us, no matter how far away our home worlds are."

"You, you mean," Syrona said almost angrily.

"I've heard enough of this," Doc said in a stern voice. "You do not need to wrangle with each other. You're all you have. So hear this, loud and clear. The euphoria of discovery has dissipated and you're all experiencing a quite logical swing toward depression. There is no need for acrimony. My programming tends for me to side with you optimists, but then I am aware, as an extensively programmed Artificial Intelligence, how far our technology has progressed from state-of-the-art as you would have known it, Captain Svangel. Message pulse sending is now highly refined, and a pulsed message will reach some listening ear, if it hasn't already. I highly recommend that you finish your meals and get a good night's rest. You'll need it tomorrow for clear thinking in dealing with the small people. Understand?"

"My apologies," Jon said formally, and bowed to Nimisha.

"Mine as well," Syrona said meekly.

"None are needed," Nimisha said and rose. "Helm, has the remote shown any activity at tomorrow's meeting site?"

"There has been peripheral movement in the area, but no alien was visible, nor were there sounds that could be recorded and added into the base for semantic analysis."