Nimisha's Ship

by Anne McCaffrey

  “But you’re my body-heir,” Lady Rezalla murmured, confused and a bit indignant. “Go with her, Jeska, and comfort her as best you can,” she added, whisking the girl out the door.

  As Jeska turned back before the automatic door slid into place, she saw Lady Rezalla, hands covering her face, shoulders heaving as she, too, wept for Lord Tionel.

  He had indeed left the entire Rondymense Ship Yard GmBH with all its assets, designs, and resources to Lady Nimisha Boynton-Rondymense—a bequest that Lord Vestrin Rondymense-Waleska instantly instructed his legal advisers to have reversed. He petitioned to be returned to Acclarke, having endured three years of his exile. His mother petitioned, as well, and had the advantage of being able to return to Acclarke City from the colony where, once she had learned where her son was being incarcerated, she had attempted to supply a few of the elegancies of life for her son. She pursued the claim with all possible vigor. Not that Lord Vestrin had been deprived in any way, for he inherited a considerable estate from his sire: funds so secured that the young heir would be unable to break the trust management and control the sizable principal, but an allowance that would let him maintain a suitable lifestyle.

  “He’s the vindictive sort,” Lady Rezalla said, “which characteristic he must have inherited from his dam’s bloodline. Rehabilitation can only do so much—since body-heirs are not permitted by law to undergo the more drastic psychiatric treatments. Her other children display such pettiness from time to time. We’ve all noticed it.” She then dismissed them as beneath her notice.

  Lady Rezalla’s attorneys were the acknowledged masters of their profession and instantly joined with Lord Tionel’s to prove that the bequest was of long standing. In fact, when Lady Rezalla thought back over the years, she placed the transfer of the property to the very week in which Lord Tionel had made his casual remark about leaving his business to his blood-daughter. The Acclarkian courts refused to hear Lord Vestrin’s appeal. He had been granted a substantial fortune as befit a body-heir. Since Lord Rondymense’s bequest of his Ship Yard went to a blood relative, there was nothing to contend.

  Lady Vescuya ranted and raved on about such iniquity to the point where she became a social liability to those who had once professed friendship for her. Certainly no hostess would commit the solecism of inviting both Vescuya and Rezalla to the same function. When a new scandal rocked Acclarke City’s First Families, the untimely death of Lord Tionel and its subsequent problems were forgotten.

  It wasn’t until Admiral Narasharim herself called at the Boynton-Chonderlee House to see Lady Nimisha that Lady Rezalla began to appreciate exactly how much “managerial” instruction Lord Tionel had given his blood-daughter.

  While Lady Nimisha was being summoned, Lady Rezalla offered hospitality and tried to discover why an admiral would need to seek out her daughter.

  “Lady Nimisha has finished the latest calculations on the femtosecond processor and, since I have meetings on the surface myself, I thought to spare her an unnecessary trip to Headquarters.”

  “The femtosecond processor?” Lady Rezalla asked, trying to sound as if she knew what the admiral was talking about.

  “Yes, she’s been experimenting with storage fibers and she’s come up with exactly the right composite to handle almost incredible electron transfers. Of course, having the latest Josephson junctions has been of inestimable assistance in solving that problem.”

  “Yes, it would, wouldn’t it,” Lady Rezalla said, smiling graciously.

  A brief knock was followed by Nimisha’s entrance into the room.

  “Here you are, Admiral,” and she passed over several of the tiny round disks that generally held quantities of information Lady Rezalla thought were quite remarkable. “I do apologize, my mother. But this is very important,” she said.

  “We have a little time in hand for you to complete your toilette before we leave,” Lady Rezalla said with only the slightest hint of reprimand.

  The admiral was on her feet, shaking Nimisha’s hand and grinning. “I’ll see you tomorrow with the test results, shall I?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it, ma’am,” Nimisha said, and guided the admiral to the door, which the RM opened with a deep, respectful bow. “It won’t take me long, my mother,” Nimisha said gaily as she shot up the stairs to her room.

  “You must tell me more about these . . . seconds . . .” Lady Rezalla began when they were settled in Nimisha’s skimmer and on their way to the ballet that was the evening’s occasion.

  “It’s just business, my mother,” Nimisha said with a shrug.

  “A business that an admiral comes in person to collect is not just business, Nimisha.”

  “It is, however, Fleet business, my mother, and I may not discuss it, even though I know you to be the soul of discretion. However, I would like to prevail on your financial acumen to take a look at the Ship Yard records. I may know a nanosecond from a femtosecond, but achieving trial balances and projections of what percentage our profits are above last year’s is totally beyond me.”

  “I should be delighted to look them over, my daughter. When had you in mind?”

  “Would the day after tomorrow be convenient?”

  Lady Rezalla had no real need to consult her delicate wrist pad, but she did. “Quite suitable.”

  Showing good sense as well as filial respect, Nimisha brought her mother in to her executive office to peruse the Rondymense Ship Yard financial records while she busied herself with minor but necessary executive tasks. Halfway through the inspection, Lady Rezalla closed the file she was studying and sat back in the chair.

  “Tionel knew very well what he was doing. And so do you, my dear girl, in spite of that famo-neto-second gibberish you gave me the other day. I shall leave your Fleet discretions and secrets, since you’re in them as deeply as dear Ti was. Obviously he trained you to take his place and so you must, restoring the name Rondymense to the honor it deserves.”

  Neither remarked on the fact that Lord Vestrin had finally returned to Acclarke but was keeping a very low profile, generally taking himself off-planet to hunt with those of his acquaintance who did nothing but divert themselves with whatever foible or folly took their wayward interests.

  “I don’t believe that I had any idea of exactly the scale of dear Ti’s Yard, nor how much construction is currently under way. How can you possibly find time to do little tasks for the Fleet? Much less spend so much time completing that yacht he was enamored of.” Lady Rezalla’s final tone bordered on the critical despite the good impression the extent of Rondymense’s enterprises had given her.

  “He trained Jeska Mlan at the same time he trained me.”

  “He did?” That startled her mother, who hastily reviewed that young woman’s behavior but could find not the least trace of unbecoming or pushy manners.

  Nimisha laughed. “Ti used to say that Jeska had the ninety-nine percent of perspiration it takes to invent something new and I’d supply the one percent genius that shot us into a new dimension. Actually, we’re a very good team. I always have Jeska check my calculations. She’s accurate to the exact limits of the data. I might be right in my guesstimate most times, but she makes sure it’s substantiated by hard figures.”

  “Really,” Lady Rezalla said faintly, in a mild state of shock.

  “Actually, we do more design than administration anyway, since Tionel has always had excellent executives like Jim Marroo, Efram Dottlesheim, and Ferman Miles-Zynker. You met them at the obsequies and I remember you commenting on how impressed you were with their dignity and genuine grief.”

  “That is true. I was impressed.” Lady Rezalla had been, but for reasons other than those quoted by her daughter. She had learned all she could about the men who were—nominally, it now appeared—in charge of her body-heir’s inheritance. She would ruthlessly have dismissed any that had not met her high standards, but they all had. Which made dear Ti’s dreadful body-heir all the more a tragedy.

  “I have no qualms at allowin
g them to continue in their current responsibilities,” Nimisha told her mother, smiling, “doing the bread-and-butter work that supports the icing on the particular piece of cake Ti wanted so to finish. It’s mine now, and I’m continuing the work in progress. Some of it, I spin off to the Navy for their experts to try to pick apart. Tionel did that, and I seem to have inherited the same courtesy they extended him. Anyway, he left us copious notes on how to proceed.” She gestured around her office to indicate the schematics and plans projected on the wall, all printed out from work down in the Design Room where she spent so much of her time.

  “You’d best show me the ship itself while I’m here,” her dam said, dismissing the plans that she couldn’t read for a virtual shape that she might have more chance of evaluating. “I knew I should have supervised you more closely but . . .” Rezalla’s shrug was as elegant as ever. Then she smiled up at her tall daughter. “His genes have done well by you. See that you do well by his legacy.”

  “I intend to, my mother.”

  “And, before you get too involved, I suggest that you have your body-heir.”

  Nimisha thought that suggestion over for a long moment. “Yes, that would be wise, since I intend to test the yacht myself.” At her mother’s startled gasp, she smiled reassuringly and touched her mother delicately on the forearm. “I’m a very good pilot, you know, but I have a duty to you and the Family. Have you any sire in mind for me?”

  “Thank you, m’dear. Lately you have been so limited in your contact with your peers that I wonder that you are interested in men at all . . .”

  “Oh, I am, Mother,” Nimisha said in such a warm tone that her mother became all the more anxious. But Nimisha did know about Family duty and would never involve herself, even in dalliance, with someone less than totally presentable.

  “Only those, I suspect,” Lady Rezalla said in a slightly acid tone, “who pretend to be interested in your fascination with parsecs and performance vehicles.”

  “There are some who have applied to me for recommendations on racing cars, my mother,” Nimisha replied, her expression droll. “Over lunches at fashionable eateries and even on weekend parties. I do not live a monastic life.”

  Lady Rezalla sniffed delicately. “I should hope not!” Nimisha shrugged and her mother went on. “Leave the matter of a suitable sire to me. I shall give you several choices. After all, a body-heir contract is short. And you might even enjoy it.”

  “Did you enjoy your contract with my sire, my mother?”

  Lady Rezalla raised her head, stiffened her back, and regarded her daughter for a long moment. At first, Nimisha wondered if she had broached too personal a matter.

  “Yes,” Lady Rezalla said, her eyes reflecting sadness, “I did. And he tried to extend it.”

  “I know,” Nimisha said with a moue of regret.

  “He was far too committed, even then, to . . . his business.” Rezalla rose from the desk to indicate that the subject was closed.

  The inspection of the ship—or rather of the skeleton, for the special petralloys that would be the hull plating had yet to be added—was duly conducted, and Lady Rezalla did not affect either specious approval or dismay. She was even allowed into the sacrosanct Design Room. She inhaled sharply when the lights went out, and then exhaled as the Designer displayed the yacht as she would look in finished form.

  “Impressive,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought dear Ti was so inventive. Much better than his color schemes,” she added blandly, leaving the now-bare Design Room.

  Lady Rezalla also took note of the respect with which her daughter was treated by all the Rondymense personnel. So the tour ended with Lady Rezalla both pleased and reassured.

  As Nimisha conveyed her mother back to the surface of Vega III, she decided that she’d very deftly gotten her mother to take care of screening suitable sires so that she wouldn’t have to spend unnecessary time away from the Yard to attend to that family obligation. She had too much scheduled right now to spend time going through bloodlines and gene patterns. Her mother would enjoy the occupation far more than she would. And probably choose a far more suitable alliance. Nimisha’s current bedmate would not meet her mother’s high social standard, but then, what her mother didn’t know wouldn’t offend her.

  Two weeks later her mother handed her a list of suitable men. Of the lot, Nimisha decided that Lord Rhidian Farquahar-Hayakawa was the most acceptable to her. She was, of course, acquainted with the man. He was an ardent hunter of alien monsters, charming and handsome, though she deplored his hobby as much as he probably disapproved of her professional involvement. But he was known to be an excellent companion on a hunt, never complaining about the dirt or discomfort, and had often caused her to howl with laughter at his sly and clever jokes. She had never once heard him belittle anyone. He had blue eyes, too, so that feature would be perpetuated. When approached by Nimisha for his service, he was surprised but recovered smoothly.

  “You’re only eighteen, Nimi,” he’d remarked. “Surely you don’t need to rush into maternity yet.”

  “I might as well get it over with so I can concentrate on what interests me. I’ve the Yard to manage, you know.”

  “How’s that new long-distance yacht of yours coming along? I hear it’s going to reduce travel time phenomenally,” he said. “Could I make it from Demeathorn to Canopus IV in time to attend both hunting seasons?”

  “Only if you learn to handle a spaceship better than you do hunting vehicles,” she replied, obliquely reminding him of a near-fatal accident while hunting raptors on Canopus IV.

  “Will you do a shakedown cruise with me when the yacht’s ready?”

  “I need the body-heir contract now, Rhid, but I’ll see what I can do when the yacht is ready for trial runs.”

  “Fair enough,” he replied, and then he was willing to discuss the contract for a body-heir. He surprised her by asking for Rondymense Ship Yard stock and added mining concessions from his family holdings as his half of the child’s birthright. The agreement was signed; the begetting of an heir was conducted with grace, skill, and such fervor that Nimisha was quite pleased. And just a little disappointed when she became pregnant a scant two months later. Rhidian did not cease his visits, for the contract stipulated a live, healthy child. She didn’t object to his company during her pregnancy, since he usually arrived after she had returned from the Ship Yard. He did once mention that he felt she should suspend her operations at the Yard in the last trimester of her pregnancy.

  “Why? All I’m doing now is programming the AI’s on board and that takes very little physical effort on my part. Still, it’s nice of you to be concerned, Rhidian.”

  “I know you’re healthy, and all that, and carrying easily, Nimi. It’s just that accidents can—and have . . .” He paused, wondering if he should have obliquely mentioned the tragic circumstance of her sire’s death. “. . . happened at the Ship Yard and I should not like to see you miscarry. Of course, if you did, I would naturally honor the contract, which requires the successful birth, not merely the pregnancy,” he said, his expression hopeful.

  “That’s most considerate of you, Rhidian, but I don’t foresee any problems, and no one at the Yard lets me overextend myself. I could probably do a lot more than Jeska and my other department heads allow.”

  Rhidian gave a reluctant shrug. “Well, if Jeska’s always with you . . .”

  “Always,” Nimisha said.

  When her daughter was born, Nimisha was overwhelmed with a totally unanticipated rush of maternal devotion that put the half-finished yacht into second place in her life. Lady Rezalla couldn’t believe how the birth altered her daughter, nor could Jeska. Fortunately, both approved.

  “Having a baby is not at all like designing a spaceship, is it?” Nimisha said, smiling fatuously at the dainty girl that her body had produced.

  “I should hope not,” Lady Rezalla said sharply, but her expression softened instantly. She, too, was quite besotted with her grandchild.

/>   Lady Astatine was the only relative who retained critical objectivity. “It’s well enough,” she said. “If it lives and has its health.”

  Lady Rezalla’s suddenly revived hope that Nimisha would dispense with spaceship design and Yard supervision was ruthlessly shattered. Although a registered wet nurse was hired to tend the baby’s needs, Nimisha set up an office suite in her domicile, adding vid screens showing the nursery rooms so she could enjoy her daughter’s antics whenever she chose. In fact, as Cuiva advanced from crawling to an unsteady walk, only Jeska knew how often Nimisha totally ignored other pressing professional matters.

  Lord Rhidian was so beguiled by his firstborn that he continued his visits, even missing an important Trophy Hunt when Cuiva first walked. Although Nimisha had not initially intended to take so much time away from the Yard to supervise her body-heir’s nurturing and development, she found time spent with her daughter a source of relaxation from a long day of programming. She was setting up what she knew would be a revolutionary femtosecond control system for the yacht. That such a system also required a whole new generation of central processing units—as well as a staggering cost—meant little to her in her search for perfection.

  When the Mark 2 was completed, she did the test runs, her first major absence from her daughter since Cuiva’s birth. Rhidian was one of those permitted to come along “for the ride.” Jeska was another, along with an “interested” observer from the Fleet Design Department. That had been a compliment to Lord Tionel’s good standing with the Department, though Nimisha had the feeling that Commander Modesittin was present more as a goodwill representative. While he asked few but pertinent questions, he had evidently been sufficiently impressed; a more thorough investigation of the Mark 2’s performance resulted in sales of four of this prototype for scout vessels. Nimisha and Jeska had found a way around the cost of the necessary CPU’S, so that the Navy could also afford to buy the Mark 2.