Nimisha's Ship

by Anne McCaffrey

  On their first trip to the Rondymense Ship Yard in the new skimmer, Lord Tionel celebrated by taking them into the Design section and introducing them to the methods by which he achieved exactly the right design for the ship that he wanted to construct.

  It was a big empty room, which surprised both girls. Lord Tionel grinned and motioned them to the side.

  “Lights off. Designer on,” he said.

  The lights obediently went off. “Designer on,” a quiet voice said.

  “We are to design an interstellar freighter, displacement tonnage thirty thousand, cargo tonnage eighteen thousand, cargo space to be sectioned off into freezer units, liquid or bulk.”

  “Did you want to start with an existing design?”

  “No.”

  “Accepted. Do you have a basic shape in mind?”

  “Yes, I’d like to see an ellipsoid.”

  An elliptical shape appeared in the room, lighting the darkness, along with lines that denoted scale. “Like this?”

  Lord Tionel considered. “Mmm, no, let’s go with a deltoid pumpkin-seed shape.”

  The shape changed. “This is similar to the StarStream hull in my database; would you like to use that instead?”

  Tionel shook his head. “No, for the kind of freighter the client wants, this is a better starting point. Now, I want to push a new star drive through the back of the hull, taking up no more than five percent of the rear volume, to give the most cargo space.”

  A portion of the rear of the image changed color. “Like this?”

  “Yes.” Lord Tionel stroked his chin. “Now,” and he pointed, though he needn’t have with a voice-operated Designer, “extrude that through the hull for one percent of its length and flatten the new face.”

  The colored image bulged through the pumpkin seed. “Like this?”

  “Exactly. Now, put a standard ten-g star drive in that space, add tankage and plumbing, and tell me how it performs at top Interstellar Drive.”

  “Fully loaded?”

  “Of course.”

  “Such a shape, fully loaded at maximum speed, would exceed the performance of the StarStream hull by two percent.”

  “Not good enough. Let’s see what changes we can make with our pumpkin to improve performance.”

  “What about making it a plumper pumpkin, Ti?” Nimisha suggested. “After all, it’s cargo space you want, isn’t it? If she carries more than the StarStream hull and still exceeds performance without other modifications, you’ve already achieved an improvement.”

  “Designer, let’s see a plumper pumpkin,” Lord Tionel ordered with a chuckle.

  None of the three in the Design facility realized that they had spent nearly eight hours working on a variety of modifications until Jim Marroo, who was night supervisor, buzzed through on the comunit. Lord Tionel frowned angrily, for they were about to solve a major difficulty in the drive coefficient.

  “No one is supposed to interrupt me here,” he said in a growl and then looked at his wrist chrono. “Lady Rezalla, or my name’s not Tionel Rondymense-Erhardt.”

  “Lord Tionel, it’s Lady Rezalla, or you may be sure I would not—”

  “In this case, an interruption is quite in order, Jim. Tell Lady Rezalla I’ve had the girls helping me . . . helping me . . .” He turned to Nimisha and Jeska for assistance.

  “Choose the color scheme for your new yacht,” Nimisha said quickly. The information was repeated and Lord Tionel breathed an exaggerated sigh of relief.

  “Designer, save the entire session under the password decor. Lights on, and open door,” he added. He ushered the girls out quickly. “I’d no idea we’d been in there so long.”

  “It was a lot more fun than I’ve had since the day you gave me my skimmer, Ti,” Nimisha said.

  “You’ve got a definite gift for design, Nimi, and I won’t have it wasted on . . . decoration. Which reminds me: You’ll have to think of a color scheme on our way home so your dam won’t know what we have been up to.”

  “I’m sure we could have worked out that problem in just a few more moments,” Nimisha went on dismally, shaking her head with disappointment.

  “I’ve no doubt about it,” Lord Tionel said, and then turned to Jeska. “And you, young woman, have the good sense to see when enthusiasm needs to be reined in for practical matters. We’d’ve lost a good forty tonnes of cargo space if we’d kept on with a main tunnel for all conduits.”

  “Besides being difficult to access,” Nimisha said. “What’s your favorite color, Ti?”

  “Green, of course,” he said as they arrived at the dock of his private vehicle.

  A complete color scheme, including fabrics, rug, and a well-known furnishings establishment to custom-design sketches, was figured out by the two girls on the short trip home. Nimisha casually left them on the hall table when the Residence Manager opened the door to the girls. The fact that the RM said nothing at all to Lord Tionel, closing the House door almost on his nose, was indicative of the disgrace he was in.

  Such a miscalculation in time did not occur again because Lord Tionel installed an automatic cutoff within the Design Room, to save the work and give the girls ample time to reach home in Nimisha’s very fast skimmer. So Lady Rezalla had no further opportunity to complain that her birth-father monopolized his daughter.

  Having these fascinating and instructive sessions cut short to deceive her mother did not sit well with Nimisha. She knew what she wanted to do with her life, which was far more than most of her peer group did. Especially as she enjoyed none of their so-called diversions whatsoever. She and Jeska kept trying to figure out ways in which to achieve their objective of placating Lady Rezalla sufficiently to really dig into their engineering studies. Circumstance, as it so often does, gave Nimisha the perfect opportunity. And she promptly seized it.

  Three weeks after the installation of the alarm that would allow the girls to be home when Lady Rezalla expected them, the breakfast vidcast was full of replays, interviews, and stern statements by high-ranking Acclarkian Peace Guardians concerning the antics of certain young scions who had already received warnings about reckless behavior. The fact that the main culprit was Lord Vestrin Rondymense-Waleska, Lord Tionel’s body-heir, was the only reason Lady Rezalla would have continued to view the matter. On a bet to see who could maneuver his skimmer fastest through the rush-hour traffic in a crowded industrial complex, young Vestrin had lost control of his vehicle and had crashed into a public transport, killing nine craftsmen.

  “He had no business in that area at that hour,” Lady Rezalla said indignantly. “If he must drive at dangerous speeds, let him at least do so at the lake and drown himself instead of killing people. And then to send a minor solicitor to offer the most paltry compensation for the deaths of hardworking and decent folk! Mere craftsmen they may have been, but they were supporting their families and educating their children to be useful citizens, which is more than I can say Vescuya ever did with Vestrin. In fact, they’re far more worthy of extreme consideration than that young, heartless lout. How such a total disaster of a man can be Lord Tionel’s body-heir is beyond me. First Families have obligations, above and beyond the fact that they were the first, and most successful, of the colonists to land on a planet. They endured much to carve out the homes, fields, businesses, space stations, cities, and the amenities of which we are now so proud. That young man needs to be sent where his attitudes can be professionally altered. In fact, he should be made to earn a living as the craftsmen he killed did. He must learn to appreciate what his ancestors endured to give him the advantages he has and doesn’t seem at all able to understand and appreciate, much less improve. I shall inform the Residence Manager that Lord Vestrin is no longer received by this House.”

  “I did so myself, six weeks ago, my mother, when he—” Nimisha stopped, because Lord Vestrin’s message had been a blatant threat for her to stop visiting his father so often.

  “When he what, Nimisha?” Lady Rezalla demanded, tapping her
fingers with displeasure.

  “When he made improper advances at me, Lady Rezalla,” Jeska said, managing a flush. “Lady Nimisha interfered and told the RM Lord Vestrin was not to be admitted to the grounds.”

  “As indeed he should have. Why was I not told of that affront, Jeska? You are in my employ and I will not have my people subjected to such embarrassments. Even by kin to Lord Tionel.” Lady Rezalla turned to Nimisha. “Your sire . . .”

  “Is above reproach, my mother, as you certainly know. You have, yourself, remarked on how Lady Vescuya seems to delight in Vestrin’s excesses. I know that Lord Tionel does not and will certainly discipline his body-heir over this latest horrific escapade.”

  “Indeed he will have to,” Lady Rezalla said with a sniff. “The Peace Guardians may upon occasion turn a blind eye to an innocent lark by high-spirited young men and women, but they take a different view entirely when deaths are involved. A period in a rehabilitation center is most certainly on the agenda. And community service. Hopefully on a difficult and primitive planet.

  “Furthermore, I don’t see how Lord Tionel could possibly allow the Ship Yard to be handed over to such a want-wit as that young man. Why, the business would be defunct in half a decade! You know how hard Lord Tionel works and how often the Fleet contracts for him to build their special designs.”

  “I do, my mother,” Nimisha said almost humbly, “which is why I regret, for Lord Tionel’s sake, that Vestrin has no interest at all in the Yard.” She did not need to add “except for the credit it earns.” Lady Rezalla’s eyebrow rose sufficiently to have mentally appended that clause. “I have always known how fortunate I am to be your body-heir, my mother, and appreciative of the care you have lavished on my upbringing and education.”

  “You’re a Boynton, after all,” Lady Rezalla said at her haughtiest.

  “And proud to be, my mother. I would like to utilize my advantages to the fullest extent possible and prove that the privilege I enjoy as a First Family scion is not wasted on stupid pastimes but turned to the best possible effect for my family name and my community.”

  Even at breakfast, Lady Rezalla was far from slow. She gave her daughter a long, thoughtful look. “I believe we have come round to your fascination with design again, have we not, Nimisha?”

  “Yes, my mother.”

  “And you wish to spend more time at Lord Tionel’s Ship Yard?”

  “Yes, my mother.”

  Lady Rezalla poured herself another cup of coffee, added the dollop of cream she liked, stirred it, and took a sip.

  “I could have wished you shared my interest in investment and how to recognize the potential of one business over another, but I can scarcely fault you for wishing to achieve . . .” She paused, her lips tight. “As the antithesis of wanton acts born of irresponsibility and lack of purpose.”

  “Then I may . . . ask Lord Tionel if I may learn more about running the Yard?”

  Lady Rezalla had never quite forgotten Lord Tionel’s casual remark about leaving Nimisha the Rondymense Yard. It surfaced propitiously.

  “Learning how to manage a reputable firm that produces spaceships is certainly preferable to plowing through public transport vehicles. I shall inquire if Lord Tionel would be willing to instruct you in managerial duties.”

  Oddly enough the “managerial duties” Lord Tionel graciously told Lady Rezalla he was willing to teach her body-heir happened to include “managing” the Designer and helping him complete the freighter they had started together. That was only the first of the projects they, and Jeska Mlan, worked on together over the next few years, during which time Lord Tionel outlined for them a ruthless course of academic studies, laboratory experiments, and special use of the smaller Design Room where they could examine and improve on the myriad components of the modern spaceworthy craft. Using his influence, he arranged for them to sit the same engineering examinations that would qualify them for full employment in his, or any other, Ship Yard.

  As for his reckless body-heir, Lord Tionel sent him to the most reputable rehabilitation center available, ignoring the pleas of Lady Vescuya and not informing her in which center her darling son had been placed. Once the center was satisfied with his moral improvement and an acceptable level of responsibility for his own actions, he was to spend a year on a struggling colonial planet to learn what being a First Family scion actually meant. Lord Tionel increased the compensation to all the families of that fatal crash and took a quiet, personal interest in the education and promotion of the surviving siblings.

  II

  FIVE DAYS after Lady Nimisha reached her full majority of eighteen years, her sire was killed in a freak accident at the Rondymense Ship Yard. She and Jeska were in the office, studying Lord Tionel’s latest and revolutionary design for a spaceship capable of intergalactic distances; his private design code for this yacht was gold plate. Having kept a keen eye on her sire’s innovative schemes, Nimisha had already delighted him by making minor, but significant, contributions to his special private project.

  When the alarm alerted the entire yard to a major emergency, the two young women suited up and joined the search party. A space tug had gone out of control, shearing through the shell of a battle cruiser, propelling structural parts off at speed in all directions. One of them had lanced through Tionel’s pinnace as he was returning from a meeting with Admiral Narasharim, head of the Fleet design committee. On such a short, routine journey, he had not been wearing a space suit. Nor had the little ship sufficient shielding to protect its passenger from the steel beam that lanced through the single compartment.

  When Nimisha and Jeska learned the cause and the extent of the disaster, Nimisha paused long enough to calculate the trajectory of Lord Tionel’s route between the navy yard and his office. Knowing the usual velocity of his trip, the vector of the structural member that had hit his craft, and the approximate point of impact, she calculated the likely course of the pinnace after the collision. Then, after both she and Jeska donned EVA garb, Nimisha commandeered a skiff, speeding to the exact location of the collision. She then followed the calculated path until she overtook the wreckage. They found battered human remains and identified the corpse as Lord Tionel’s from his wrist com and what clothing was still attached to his body. Although the Yard personnel as well as the Fleet rescue teams would have given anything to spare the two girls such a ghastly task, they brought his remains in a body bag back to Yard headquarters while other teams were still looking for him. Nimisha and Jeska insisted on accompanying his body back to Acclarke.

  When informed first of Lord Tionel’s death and then of her daughter’s actions, Lady Rezalla fainted for the first time in her life. She had revived by the time Nimisha and Jeska returned from the mortuary. At the sight of the two, Lady Rezalla lost her renowned calm and demanded to know how a gently reared child of the Boynton-Chonderlee family could possibly have undertaken the retrieval.

  “He was my birth-sire and he deserved whatever final service I, his blood-kin, could provide. The thought of him, lost in space, spinning further and further away from where he could be most easily recovered, was too painful to bear,” Nimisha informed her mother, her face pale and rigid.

  Lady Rezalla regarded her body-heir with conflicting emotions, pride and approval vying with—Jeska said later to Nimisha—a tinge of jealousy mixed with anger that Nimisha had endangered herself when there were plenty of others to find . . . him.

  “Jeska, pour me a drink, one for yourself and—what will you have, my mother?” Nimisha said, stiffly walking to the nearest chair and collapsing in it with an abruptness that Lady Rezalla would, under other conditions, have criticized as too graceless for a young woman of her upbringing.

  “But you went out into space,” Lady Rezalla said, nodding gratitude as Jeska handed her a strong stimulant.

  “In a skiff and in EVA gear.”

  “In EVA gear?” Lady Rezalla’s eyes bulged, her hand went to her heart, and Jeska guided her glass to her lips f
or a restorative sip.

  “We were well instructed, Lady Rezalla,” Jeska said, with a worried glance at Nimisha, who was silent with shock. “Part of our managerial training, my lady. In case there should be a major disaster and total evacuation of the premises was required.”

  “Then what was today’s . . . horrid tragedy considered? A minor hiccup in normal procedures?” Lady Rezalla demanded, clearly recovering more quickly than Nimisha was.

  “A terrible accident, Lady Rezalla,” Jeska said, and she managed to get a handkerchief from a wrist pocket to blot her eyes of tears. “I understand that Admiral Narasharim herself is conducting the inquiry into how the tug was allowed to function without a proper spaceworthy certificate. She will be wishing to call on you, my lady, since neither Lord Vestrin nor Lady Vescuya are presently on Acclarke and someone must—” Jeska’s voice broke.

  “Take charge. Yes, of course, someone must take charge,” Lady Rezalla said, sitting straighter. “We were once contracted. We have a mutual child, my body-heir, and I have no doubt she will comport herself in a far more reverent and seemly fashion than that appalling young man who will now succeed him.” Lady Rezalla gave a shudder of dismay and repugnance. “Not that he has the talent to emulate his sire.” She took another long sip of the brandy. “Nimisha, drink that at once. You’re dead white with shock and you must recover your composure immediately. The Boynton in you requires that. And at least the worlds will know that one Rondymense scion carries the name with honor and credit.”

  Nimisha downed the entire glass and then threw it into a corner of the wall.

  Lady Rezalla blinked, but firmly pressed her lips together at the pleading look on Jeska’s face.

  “Yes, the Rondymense name will be honored as fully as I honor yours, my mother,” Nimisha said, clinging to the chair as she struggled to rise. “He will never be shamed by his daughter.” And she ran from the room, weeping.