Nimisha's Ship
- Автор: Маккефри Энн
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «Nimisha's Ship». Краткое содержание книги:
When Nimisha takes an experimental ship on a solo test flight, something goes horribly awry, marooning her light-years from home on a planet as deadly as it is beautiful. Now the ruthless members of a rival branch of the Rondymense family are given the chance they've been waiting for: to reclaim the Ship Yards by any means necessary.
Only Nimisha's ingenious child, Cuiva, stands in their way. But for how long? For just when her daughter needs her most, Nimisha is in a precarious situation herself--and unable to help. But Nimisha has never given up in her life--and she's not about to start now . . .
"They have all been cooped up longer than I was," Cuiva said, still repentant.
"We'll join you while you eat, dearest," Nimisha said, going for the dish that had just appeared in Cater's dispenser. Returning to Cuiva's table, she spotted Jon lurking outside. "Well, there's one who hung about to meet you. Jon, please come in and meet my daughter."
"Permission to come aboard, Captain Rustin?" Jon asked formally in the hatchway.
"Permission granted, Captain Svangel."
Deciding to make it plain where Jon stood in her regard, Nimisha met him, linked her arm in his, and led him to the table. "Cuiva, this is Jon Svangel, one of the three survivors of the Poolbeg, which had the misfortune to meet the wormhole that snatched me, too. He and the others have been my very good companions."
Cuiva gracefully held out her hand, but at the angle to be shaken, not kissed.
"My congratulations on achieving your minor majority, Lady Cuiva," Jon said, shaking her hand first and then turning it to drop a light kiss on it. "This is just as much an occasion for us as it is for you."
Cuiva smiled back at him and shot a mischievous glance at her mother and a quick sideways one at Caleb.
"I am most relieved to know that my mother had companions." Her formal phrasing was accompanied by a radiant smile of relief.
Jon shot a quizzical look at Nimisha and then at Caleb, who shook his head.
"There's a lot more you'll need to know, my love," Nimisha said, slipping into her chair again. "I could stand caffeine, Cater, and something more substantial for breakfast. Caleb, Perdimia?"
"I'll get it," Jon said, giving her shoulder an affectionate pat that he intended everyone present to notice.
Perdimia didn't know where to look.
"What more should I hear first?" Cuiva asked, though her eyes followed Jon to the dispenser.
"You weren't awake when we arrived at the beacon, Cuiva," Caleb said, "Your mother and her friends have also made contact with aliens. Sapient aliens."
"Oh, Mother, you didn't! How marvellous! What are they like?"
"We haven't seen any either," Caleb said with a laugh.
"I have," Perdimia said. "They're small, gray, furry, I think-" She looked to Nimisha, who nodded. "-and there seem to be a great many of them."
Nimisha laughed. "We're in the largest of their six settlements. This is the main one. Their wrecked ship is on the other side of the cliff."
"Oh, Mother, how wonderful. Sapient aliens! But, if their ship crashed, then they're not indigenous, right?" Cuiva's curiosity did not allow her to make much progress with her bland breakfast.
"Eat," her mother said. "Quite right, they're not indigenous to this planet, but they are space-farers, so we can treat them as equals." Nimisha settled a stern look on Caleb and Cuiva. "We- or rather Tim Lester-Ontell-have acquired a fair amount of basic terms and verbs. We've managed to program translators, but we're nowhere near understanding abstract terms yet."
"Cherry Absin-Hadley will be glad to hear that," Caleb remarked with a grin.
"The main point I'm making," Nimisha continued, "is that we haven't compromised the evolution of a new species. That would be a major breach of FSP regulations."
"They couldn't exactly expect you to hide in a cave for five years, could they?" Cuiva asked indignantly.
Jon laughed. "No breach, and as my ship was on an exploratory mission anyway, we followed protocol. In fact," he added, turning to Caleb, "we've been adapting the Poolbeg's gig for three-fingered hands, so they can learn how to fly it. That is, Captain Rustin, if you have no orders to the contrary. We've found the Sh'im to be intelligent, quick to assimilate and learn from demonstration…"
"They're allies," Nimisha said firmly.
"No reason not to continue on that footing," Caleb said, raising his hands in accord. "They've obviously impressed you."
"We've mining operations under way, since we've exhausted what we found in the freighter-"
"Freighter?" Caleb asked, surprised. "Your initial report mentioned four wrecks. Where did that come from?"
"First Diaspora, from the design of it," Jon said. "Most of its pods survived the rough landing and we put them to use."
"Meterios took exception to that." Nimisha began.
"To your use of jetsam?" Caleb frowned. "Survivors have the right to use any material to hand."
"We felt that included recycling whatever we could use of the Poolbeg," Jon went on.
"Of course it would," Caleb said firmly. "Don't worry about Meterios. She's in trouble anyhow for delaying her return."
"Actually, her delay worked to our advantage, Caleb," Nimisha said, grinning. "We couldn't send the rest of her original crew back on a quarantined ship. And most of them were on short-term tours, so…"
"So, as senior serving officer, Captain Rustin, I take responsibility for keeping them here until proper orders could be transmitted. Were there assignments in the messages at the beacon?" Jon asked.
"Not yet," Caleb replied with a slight grin, "considering the time it takes for a pulse message to get where it's going and return. Frankly, Svangel, I doubt Headquarters would fault your decision to retain them here when you can use their skills to advantage."
Jon started to shake his head in the Sh'im manner, but Nimisha's nudge had him change it to the appropriate human one.
"A tip on local protocol," she said, leaning across the table to Caleb. "The Sh'im have reversed the meaning of nod and shake. When they shake their heads, they mean yes. A nod implies the negative. We're used to it now, but you'll need to know."
"Sorry to mar your birthday breakfast with naval matters, Cuiva," Caleb said.
"I don't mind, Caleb. It made this goo go down without me noticing that it doesn't taste like much at all," the girl said, regarding the final spoonful with no great enthusiasm. "And it's so good to be awake. You don't dream in cold sleep, you know. And now I'll have to catch up on all that's happened. So confer away."
Caleb acknowledged the invitation. "Since Headquarters does know from your flow of pulses that an alien contact has been made, you couldn't be in better odour with Fleet and the Federated Sentient Planets right now."
"That's a relief," Jon said.
Caleb started to shake his head-then nodded, practicing the Sh'im fashion, grinning as he switched. "Forget Meterios. She had her head so far up her ass her eyes were brown."
They all laughed at that, though Cuiva's laugh was more tentative, having never before heard that particular phrase.
"I beg your pardon," Caleb said hastily, bowing to both Nimisha and her daughter.
Nimisha was laughing too hard to do more than shake her head.
"Incoming avians," Helm announced, startling everyone at their leisurely meal. "The Fiver forwards the alarm. How do I respond?"
"Caleb, tell your crew to seek immediate shelter and do not, I repeat, do not attempt to return here," Nimisha said, as she and Jon leaped out of their seats and toward the bridge. Jon grabbed her arm before she automatically took the pilot's chair. "Your permission, Captain?" Jon said.
"Helm, Lady Nimisha and Captain Svangel share the conn." Caleb said, and then spoke urgently into his wrist com.
He was no more than a step behind them into the bridge as they slipped into the seats, Jon touching in orders for the missile launchers as soon as he could reach the pad.
"Helm, Nimisha Boynton-Rondymense here. Accept orders from Fiver on emergency procedures."
"I am accepting emergency procedures from the Fiver," Helm replied.
"Magnify main screen to northwest at eleven of a clock port side," Jon said. "Arm missile launchers. Targets are coming in fast in uneven deployment. Fire when locked on."