Nimisha's Ship

"It was once a spaceship," Nimisha said.

"It had no luck coming through the wormhole. And I think that's what happened to it."

They got close enough to circle the wreck, but it was too battered and compacted to give them any idea of its original shape. No markings of any kind remained. Helm did an analysis of the metallic composition, but that was unexceptional enough, containing no unusual alloys that might have given them some clues as to its origin.

Jon asked for a spatial map of the area and, after some figuring, decided that the vector of its current velocity did not point to the same spot where the Fiver and the Poolbeg had exited from the wormhole.

"How could that be? Are your figures correct?" Nimisha asked, astonished.

"Check 'em yourself." Jon handed the pad over to her, grinning. "I could hope that there is an error. If there isn't, then there may be more than one wormhole exit in this area of space."

Nimisha regarded her calculations with dismay and slowly handed back his pad. "I don't like to think of more wormholes emptying who knows what in on top of us."

"That one's going to do us no harm," he said consolingly, and had Helm record its presence and their disturbing calculations. "Where'll it end up, Helm?"

"Plotting its current trajectory, it will probably be attracted by the gravity of the fifth planet and impact on that surface," Helm said.

Jon saluted the wreck. "I wonder how many other vessels met a similar end in this part of the galaxy."

"Unknown, Commander," Helm replied.

"A rhetorical comment." Jon grinned at Nimisha.

They continued inward, examining the other planets of the system, none of which would sustain humanoid life.

The M-type planet had three moons, one with a thin atmosphere but obviously dispersing, for what plant life was still supported was starving for oxygen. They continued on to the planet. Its atmosphere did not check out as eminently suitable, in its present geological age. Even as they made their first orbit, they could see that the active volcanoes in its mountain ranges spewed forth black dust and pyroclastic materials, as if celebrating the arrival of the observers. Though life-forms, small and large, were scanned, there seemed to be more aquatic types than land surface dwellers. A smart option with such volatile landmasses. The vegetation managed to cling where it could and was lush enough but all too primitive to be useful, even as basic stuff for a catering unit to turn into edible substances. What oases of habitable areas there were without nearby volcanic action were few and far between.

"Maybe in a few millennia, all that volcanic activity will calm down," Nimisha said, not entirely disappointed since she already was quietly nurturing the good news Doc had given her early that morning. Even Rhidian had not succeeded in his first attempt to impregnate her for her body-heir. She would tell Jon later. She wished to savour the news herself for a while.

"Who knows when they'd grow volcanoes, too," Jon said.

"Let's come back in a few centuries and see if it's calmed down."

"You've had rejuv?" Jon asked.

"Of course, though I resisted when it was first mentioned. Have you?"

He nodded. "There were moments a while back when I bitterly resented having to deal with longevity."

"Not now?" she asked in a teasing voice. She had discovered that she could tease him about almost anything without him taking offence. Caleb had so often backed off when she spoke whimsically or sarcastically that she had controlled her habit. Caleb had been far too aware of his anomalous situation as attache and determined not to "presume."

Jon glanced at her, his expression tender, and he stroked her bare arm. "None at all."

His genuine spontaneous responses were another point in his favour. Rhidian had always been on his dignity, even in bed with her, as befitted a First Family scion-polite, courteous, and appropriately concerned for her enjoyment, delivering his query as a necessary ritual. Jon never needed to inquire; he knew! Caleb had been… well, a nice lover, but… unimaginative. With Jon, she could be as spontaneous and inventive as he, which added a zest to their love-making. She had also discovered, in the moments when they conversed-and they seemed to have a lot to talk about on many subjects-that Jonagren Svangel came from an old and property-owning family in the Scandinavian peninsula. It probably accounted for his innate self-confidence with none of the posing that a colonial First Family male would display. Lady Rezalla-if she ever saw her mother again-could find no fault with his lineage. He could be as stern as command required him, or open and frank in discussing anything that they had so far considered. Sometimes he was even so outrageous that he could surprise her out of long-held notions that his observations made her reexamine.

With considerable time to fill in the journey, they had watched new tapes as well as the old favourites she had. First he had wanted to update his understanding of naval technical advances and the general history of their worlds during the time he had been marooned. He was apolitical, as most naval officers found it expedient to be, but he had definite ideas about individual rights and other domestic issues on Earth, and opinions about some of the colonial worlds' issues. He always called them "colonial," which amused her. Though the adjective was essentially accurate, any one from the "colonies" would have risen up in indignation at its use. Certainly Lady Rezalla would have been outraged, as would Rhidian. She wondered about Caleb's reaction, since he was Vegan by birth, but they had never discussed the subject. Jon had such a nice way of teasing her about her "colonial" status that she humoured him. She could warn him about her mother… later, when the need arose. She could hope that it would, but she was becoming more and more resigned to the improbability.