Nimisha's Ship

CHAPTER 12

To suggest that the rest of that auspicious birthday was anticlimactic would be inaccurate. Once the skiff and gig had returned, Caleb ordered that the Five B's stored gig and the disassembled shuttle be put into service as quickly as possible. However, the Poolbeg gig, piloted by an eager Nazim, would accommodate quite a few, if they didn't mind a little crowding on the short hop to the Broken Bird. Ool and Ook indicated that they would be guides for a tour of their ancient vessel. There was space to accommodate the senior officers of the Five B: Caleb, Kendra, Chief Engineer Hadley, and Tim to act as interpreter. The officers were fascinated and frustrated at the number of sections of the crushed ship that couldn't be accessed.

"The Sh'im don't know much about the ship really, sirs," Tim said. "Jon thinks it came down about a hundred and fifty of our years ago, and the Sh'im life span is only about thirty, so it's dim, dark history to them."

"Would they mind me poking about?" Hadley asked, seconded by Nazim.

Tim made the request. "No, not since you arrived in such a fine ship with no marks on it at all." He grinned.

"I gather they came through the wormhole," Caleb said, "but the ship doesn't appear capable of making a surface landing. Not the right design."

"I got into one of the cargo holds, Commander. They did have landing craft, but they're all messed up. And, sir." Tim went on, grinning with mischief, "don't tell 'em you didn't come through the wormhole. They were real impressed with the Fiver having only a few scratches. Since there're none on the Five B, it'll raise you in their eyes if they think you did even better."

"Good point, Tim." Caleb said while the others grinned. "Think Cherry'll be able to sort out her translators, lan?"

"She won't have any trouble, Captain," Tim said. "I showed her a lot already, so she could get right to work."

They had reached the gig and now went aboard.

"I'd like to see more," Caleb said, taking the seat beside Nazim and peering out the wide front screen at the sun-parched landscape, "but I think we'd better return to the settlement and file an initial report."

"Yeah, there's a lot to be done," Tim said with a grin. "But your being here is the best. Of course, you wouldn't be here if the Necklacing wasn't to be done, would you?"

"Not entirely, Tim. We came to rescue Nimisha once we knew where to find her. However, the Necklacing is an event we have looked forward to now for a long time," Caleb remarked. Then he and the others took the short trip up and over the cliff, observing the battery installations where busy Sh'im were servicing the tubes, and down to the landing strip. "I see that the gig is missing."

"I think Globan promised to take Cherry and Mareena to see the avian corpses," Tim said. "They're xeno and biologist, aren't they? That's what they told me during the raid. Right now's a very good time for them to record the scavengers." He gestured directly east and then to the north where most of the avian corpses would be.

When they landed and disembarked. Tim said something to the dark-coats, who shook their heads.

"If you'll excuse us now, sir," he said. "They've got to go, too."

The dark-coats, shading their eyes, bowed formally to the humans and set off at a good pace beside Tim, heading for the settlement. That there was great activity was obvious by comings and goings and the construction of some sort of a circular edifice, being garlanded by colourful summer foliage and blossoms.

"That's a nice lad," Hadley said. "Not at all self-conscious and certainly knowledgeable."

"Makes a nice change from the kids in the restrictive upbringing in some of our planetary societies," Kendra remarked.

"I'd say that the most amazing aspect is that the four of them survived as long as they did," Caleb said. "I'll want to learn more of their history. Later. Right now, we have reports to make."

/\s soon as the officers had left on their tour of the Sh'im wreck, Nimisha escorted Cuiva to the Fiver. Jon accompanied them, and Perdimia followed a short step behind, carrying the long Coskanito Necklace case and the dress box.

"See the scrapes, Cuiva dear." Nimisha pointed to the marring on the port side. "Helm kept damage to a minimum."

"Quite a feat, as you'll be able to appreciate," Jon said, "when you see the condition of the other wrecks on Erehwon."

"So we came the safer way," Cuiva said, not quite concealing an eager nervousness. "This is a very pretty valley," she added, glancing beyond the landing field and its hangar to the Sh'im cliff and its settlements. "Is that large house over there where your friends live?" she asked.

"Yes, thanks to the prefab units in the freighter pod we found-"

"You found, Nimi," Jon corrected her.

She rolled her eyes at his qualification. "All of us," she began in a starchy tone, "were extraordinarily lucky that so much of its cargo had been destined for a colony. We could use everything there was.

"Weren't there any survivors?" Cuiva asked softly.

"None we ever found," Nimisha said gently, patting her daughter's arm. "We think it originated in the Second Diaspora, so it's quite old. I don't know how they managed to fly such a crate, much less expect it to reach its destination. Which it didn't. Oh, dear," she added, for muted howls could plainly be heard through the open hatch.

"They're in good voice today," Jon said with a chuckle as Nimisha hurried up the stairs ahead of them.

"They're hungry," Nimisha explained in a slightly apologetic tone. "Ah. food is on the way," she added as a Sh'im female, clasping three feeding bottles to her furry chest, made her way from Cater to the first cabin. The Sh'im shook her head at Nimisha and kicked the half-closed door open. Nimisha caught sight of Tezza Ashke inside the room, jiggling Tyrone, who was always loudest when hungry, his face contorted and red with outrage.

With an inaudible mutter, Perdimia pushed past the others and hurried into the room, closing the door on all the hungry voices.

"That's good of her," Jon said with a sigh of appreciation. "D'you think she might take over? Or is that outside of her expertise, Cuiva?"

"I suspect not, considering the alacrity with which she reacted," Nimisha said, grinning and turned to look at her daughter.

"As I'm now fourteen, if not yet Necklaced. and I'm certainly not anywhere near Lady Vescuya or Lord Vestrin, I don't think I need a bodyguard any more." Cuiva caught and held Jon's eyes.

"Not with both your mother and me to be sure of your safekeeping," Jon said with a courtly bow.

"Thank you, Jon." Cuiva said with gentle dignity. "I'll need to know a lot more about this world. Before I went into cold sleep, Caleb explained that, once we found you," Cuiva put her fingers firmly around her mother's arm. "he never doubted we would, you know." Nimisha nodded. "Even when we got here… 'nowhere'-" Cuiva giggled while the other two grinned at her amusement."-he said we'd have to send a pulse-which they have managed to speed up by"-another giggle-"three months and then wait for its answer. Because what happens next depends on what's been found here. And you certainly have found a lot. All exciting, too!"

"Tomorrow your mother and I demand the honour of showing you around, Lady Cuiva," Jon said with a wink at Nimisha.

"But it's been an exciting morning, young lady, and if I may be so bold as to interrupt your reunion, I think a short nap might be advisable," Doc said.

"I was about to suggest one," Nimisha said, "but we could use another snack. Cater, have you something savoury on hand? This morning's raid shorted me on breakfast."

"I do, Lady Nimisha, and Helm has informed me of Lady Cuiva's special needs. May I welcome you to Erehwon, ma'am?"

"I'm very glad to be here, I assure you, Cater, and happier to be awake again. But Mother," Cuiva said, turning appealingly to Nimisha, "how long do I have to eat that awful stuff?"

"I have prepared a broth and toast, Lady Cuiva," Cater said with bright encouragement.

"I'll leave you, then, since you have Perdimia to help now. I've got some checking to do." Jon bent to kiss Nimisha's cheek, gave her daughter a quick bow and a grin, and then strode away.

Cuiva waited only until she could no longer hear his footsteps and then she smiled joyfully at her mother. "Kendra will be so relieved, Mother."

"Ah, I thought that was the way the wind blows," Nimisha said.

"She's nice, and a very good mathematician. I learned a lot from her."

"I'm told you qualified as a Junior Officer. And signed off very high in all the specialties." Nimisha gave Cuiva a big hug for her achievement.

Cuiva flushed. "Well, I had to learn all I could if we were to find you, my mother, so I thought learning about astronomy, mathematics, physics, and all that might prove useful."

"Which it still can, since it would appear that we're stuck here for at least two years-unless they've also made significant changes in how to speed up pulse messages. Now eat, my pet," Nimisha said.

"Then can I meet my siblings?" Cuiva asked, looking over her shoulder at the closed cabin door.

"Yes, and then you may all have a morning nap."

When Casper and Syrona got back to their quarters, they found neat packages awaiting them.

"Now that's real thoughtful," Casper said as he saw the tropical-weight dress whites. Since the hat was on top, he settled it to his head at the proper angle. "Someone's clever at guessing sizes."

"That tunic's a new cut," Syrona said. She fingered the material. "Much lighter, too. You won't know you're wearing it." She held up trousers that had a crease almost sharp enough to cut a hand. "I guess I've got the same," she said with a sigh. She and Nimisha had fashioned a very elegant sarong-length skirt and sleeveless top for the Necklacing. Nimisha could design clothing as well as spaceships.

"We can change once the ceremony's over, but we are Navy," Casper said, appreciating her reluctance after spending so much time making the special outfit.

"Are we, Casper? Still?"

"Until otherwise notified." Then he added, in quite a different tone of voice, "I don't know about you, Syrie, but I'd hate to have to leave here. We've made such progress, and there's so much I want to see done."

"Me, too," she agreed softly, turning away to open her parcel. "Well, at least we won't swelter," she said, tilting her uniform hat at a civilian angle on her head. "I'll have to do something with my hair after all." She'd let it grow long and usually wore it in a braid.

"Braid it up, like you used to. I'd hate to see you cut your hair, dear. But I sure need a trim if I'm to be correct in uniform again," Casper said, regarding himself in a mirror that had been retrieved from the Poolbeg.

Syrona was doing that for him when Tim burst in, full of his successful escort duty.

"Chief Engineer lan wants to see as much as he can of the Broken Bird and the freighter and that ancient wreck that Nimisha found and Nazim's one o'olio of a pilot. Ook and Ool said so. With two gigs, the skiff, and two Fivers, can we do more exploring now, huh?"

"I shouldn't be at all surprised," Casper said, grinning at Tim's ebullience.

"Hey, Casper, looks good," Tim added, then frowned as he peered into the open parcels. "Don't I get new clothes, too?"

"You will also notice that these are uniforms, and ten is too young even to be a cadet," Syrona said with mock severity. "You'll be a lot cooler in the clothes I made you than we will come noontime. We'll be changing out of uniform as soon as we can, I assure you. Now go shower. You've got rust on your legs and arms again. Showing off in the Broken Bird, were you? You be sure to put antiseptic on any cuts under all that dirt, hear me?" She listened for acquiescence delivered in a disgusted tone of voice.

Then she ran one hand over the smooth fabric of the dress whites until Casper, changing into his uniform, noticed her apathy.

"What's the matter, Syrie? You're not annoyed by the whites, are you? I think it was a damned nice gesture so we wouldn't have to wear the only proper attire we have left."

Syrie sank on to the end of the bed, her face at once sad and angry.

"When I think of what we went through… never knowing and all our friends dying, the children…" Tears leaked from her eyes, and Casper immediately settled beside her. She tried to push him away. "I'll get your brand-new tunic all wet."

"And it'll dry in five minutes outside. Now what's the matter? This isn't like you."

"Why, if Nimisha hadn't got trapped by that wormhole…"

"Oh, Syrie, darling, that's not fair. You know that searches were made for us. But Nimisha managed to get a Mayday out. We didn't. No one knew where to look for the Poolbeg. Anyway, Globan told me while we were rigging the tarpaulin that Navy listed the Poolbeg at the top of its 'look-for' list, and every Explorer ship went out with its specs and crew complement. They even had details rooting through junkyards now and then, in case parts of the Poolbeg could be located. And an undercover agent in that pirate gang that occasionally raids in the Sirius sector. We'd've been found, sooner or later." He chuckled, catching her chin with gentle fingers and making her look at him. "Cherry told Globan that Cuiva was so determined to find her mother that everything she learned on board the Five B was aimed at doing just that. Cuiva pestered the life out of Hadley, who's the astronomer on the Five B. And drained Kendra Oscony of advanced maths. And signed off on all the major specialties as a Junior Officer. That girl would have searched for her mother for the rest of her life. For that matter, so would Captain Rustin, even after he paired off with Kendra. Seems he said he owed Nimisha and he was going to pay her back if it took his lifetime, too."

Syrona began to sniffle again. "I didn't think I could have such mean thoughts about Nimisha after all she's done for us! But when the uniforms came…"

"That wasn't her idea, Syrie," Caleb said with a chuckle. "Rustin didn't miss us sweating in the dress blues."

"No matter what I just said, Casper, I don't want to leave here. Tim's First Family on Erehwon. Back in any of the colonies he'll just be a-nothing."

Caleb gave an amused snort. "I doubt our Tim will be a nothing anywhere, Syrie. You know how smart Jon and Nimisha think he is, and I know he's already proved it to Caleb Rustin. Look how he's helping their semantics officer adjust her translator units."

"But what if we're ordered to leave Erehwon, Casper?" she asked in a muted wail.

Casper pulled her to her feet and into his arms, where he held her tightly, smoothing back the short hairs that had escaped her braid. "If it comes to that, Syrie, I'll resign. You can, too, and we'll all be colonists. We have that right under Exploratory Service regs."

"I'd forgotten that," she said, and began to cheer up. She rubbed her cheeks dry. "I won't take long to change, dear. That's one advantage with uniforms," she added, carefully picking up her new one and making for the bathroom she had designed for their private use. "No problems about what to wear and when to wear what."

Jon had had a chance for a private conversation with Caleb Rustin in his cabin, though Caleb dodged most of the initial questions about his current orders and if there were some pertaining to the shipwrecked crew.

"There are two points that I didn't mention in any of the pulses, Captain-"

"Caleb, Jon."

"Thank you, sir… thanks."

"And what could you have failed to mention in the full reports I'm still reading?" Caleb asked, gesturing to the disks on his desk.

"The first oddity is that, when I computed the vector of the wreck we found in space on our way to Secondo, it had not-" Jon paused. "-come from the same area of space in which our worm-hole ejected us. Of course, as we know now, that wormhole moves about on the other side; after all, it caught the space station and Meterios, who were both supposed to be well beyond its range. So-" Jon hesitated again, dubious. "I wonder if there could be more than one wormhole emptying into this general vicinity."

Caleb considered that for a long moment. "We know so little about wormholes that you could be right."

"I'd rather not be," Jon said ruefully.

"Hmmm, yes, I agree. You said two points?"

"Yes, and maybe it is part of the first. On our way back from checking out the third M-type planet, the one Nimisha calls Tertio, I answered a muted alert from Helm. Nimisha was sleeping a lot just then, pregnant with the twins. I certainly didn't want to wake her unnecessarily. What alerted Helm was an old emission trail."

"It was?" Caleb sat up straighten elbows on the armrest, his fingers linked. "How old? What sort of fuel trace?"

"That we couldn't establish with any accuracy, but several months old at the least. The course just brushed the heliopause of Tertio. We diverted to see if we could pick up stronger traces. It was heading off our port side. Helm took readings of the stars in that direction, but none of them were close enough to be an immediate destination."

Caleb leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers thoughtfully.

"That's extremely interesting, Jon, because we found traces not that far from the beacon."

"You did? Meterios mentioned nothing."

Caleb snorted. "She only saw what she expected to see, although I'm willing to give her the benefit of the doubt in this instance. She was probably too busy catching loose pods and dodging the space station debris to notice anything as nebulous as that was, even three months earlier. But it's there. And we have it on record. Did Nimisha mention seeing anything on her way in?"

"No, and Helm would have mentioned a previous sighting. The one we saw was probably months old. Helm's a lot more sensitive than other ships."

"I think we might do well to set up a few drone-eyes," Caleb said. "And possibly a discreet installation on the farthest moon. As I'm sure you've gathered, we're here until further orders can be pulsed through to us. I hope you don't mind."

"Mind!" Grinning like an idiot, Jon shook his head in the human fashion. "Having new people here?"

"I rather thought that would be your reaction," Caleb said drolly. "In any event, we've enough equipment and certainly the skills to produce a good early warning system, even if we have to manufacture some things here on Erehwon."

Jon turned serious again, too.

"Two sightings might mean a reasonably regular shipping lane through this area of space. On the other hand, maybe the trail was from a ship heading away from another wormhole exit. I think I prefer shipping lines."

"I think I do, too," Caleb said with a grin. "But shipping what and by whom? M-type planets are rare enough. Since the Sh'im were caught by the wormhole, those traces might not be from their colony ships. I think we need more evidence before we put it on the worry list. I'll include your observations in my report."

Jon nodded. "Then, too, the Sh'im would prefer a dimmer primary than this one, or those of the other two M's. Sh'im eyes need shading. That's why we borrowed the tarpaulin." Jon gave a droll smile. "For an unpopulated area of space, this sector shows more traffic than certainly I thought there'd be."

"We'll just keep optics up there to spot the next batch of traffic. Did you ever see any exploratory probes while you were here?"

Jon gave a bark. "Not so much as a con trail. Though we were scarcely in a position to do any signalling once the shuttle was crocked. Sure had the surprise of my life when Nimisha flew in to our site on the Poolbeg's gig."

"Yes. but then she's been surprising people since she was Necklaced. Which reminds me, Jon…" Caleb rose and picked up a neat package from his bed. "Think these might come in handy for today's ceremony. And they've improved tropical dress whites while you've been gone."

Jon didn't waste any time opening the parcel and grinned with real pleasure to find the hat fit his head perfectly. "I appreciate this, Caleb, more than you know. Those dress blues are not for this climate."

"Got to preserve all the naval traditions we can. When the fun's over, let's get our com experts together and see what we can come up with"-Caleb held up a warning hand-"without exactly explaining why we want the equipment."

"Since when did the Navy explain more than need-to-know?" Jon asked with a cocky grin. Then he noticed the wall clock. "I'd better go get dressed. Thanks again."

Jon ended up showering and changing in the only empty cabin. He was buckling the white web belt-an item of uniform that had never altered-when there was a quick knock at the door and before he could say anything, Syrona, exceedingly correct in her whites, entered and closed the door behind her.

"I'm here to trim your hair, Captain Svangel."

Jon's right hand went to the damp hair well below his shoulders. Syrona grinned and held up scissors and comb.

"Casper didn't complain, and you better not."

"You haven't cut your hair, have you, Syrie?" Jon demanded anxiously.

She turned her head so that he could see the intricate braids that extended below the back of her hat.

"Sit," she said, pointing to the stool and draped his damp towel over his shoulders. "It won't take long. And may even look better than the job I did on Casper, now I've got the hang of it again."

"Hey!" Jon protested when he heard the first snip.

"Oh, relax. I've never cut anyone's ears, and you simply have to look as good as you can to match Nimi and Cuiva. That is, when her mother and Perdimia finally made her stop playing long enough with her brothers and sister to get dressed. You'd think they were more important than her Necklacing."

Jon chuckled, careful not to move his head. "Got over that one easily, didn't we?"

"Cuiva's a nice person. Everyone on the Five B-and we have got to do something about proper names for those ships, you know-thinks the world of Cuiva. D'you know she intended to keep looking for her mother if it took her entire life?"

"Dedication seems to be a Boynton trait."

He felt her comb through much shorter hair. "Sit still. I need to clip… just… one or two. There!" She gathered up the towel carefully from his shoulders to keep the cuttings from escaping.

Jon blinked twice in the mirror at his new elegance and grinned. "Thanks, Syrie."

"Now finish dressing. It's nearly time to take your seat."

Placing his hat correctly under his left arm, Jon made his way out of the cabin and into the main lounge of the Fiver. There he stopped short, his jaw dropping as he saw Lady Nimisha Boynton-Rondymense and Lady Cuiva Boynton-Farquahar looking every inch the First Family scions they were. Nimisha was now clad in the filmy delicately blue gown, no doubt from the box Perdimia had brought over from the Five B. Her luxuriant hair had been plaited into a high coronet on the crown of her head, with jewelled pins that picked up the colours of her Necklace, making the hairstyle truly regal. The Necklace was magnificent in its intricacy, covering exactly the heir tattoo beneath it as Cuiva's Necklace shortly would.

He had trouble breaking his eyes away from Nimisha, for he'd never seen her in her role as a First Family body-heir, despite knowing every whorl of her tattoo. She smiled gently, as if she understood his confusion at her transformation.

Reassured by that smile, he took time to regard Cuiva, dressed in a subtle, not quite formfitting white gown that flowed about her slender body, outlining young breasts, slender waist and hips, reaching to her ankles, her feet in white sandals. Her hair was also dressed high on her head with ringlets that cascaded down but were somehow held on a level with her delicate ears. The neckline of her gown had been designed to show the body-heir tattoo that would soon be covered by her Necklace. She was as radiant as her mother, but she dropped her eyes shyly as he stood there, mesmerised.

"I gather we pass inspection," Nimisha said, breaking the spell.

"I've never seen you look so beautiful, Nimi," he said in a rough, low voice, and then laughed softly when she blushed. "And you, Lady Cuiva, must be the most radiant minor major body-heir ever seen in the entire galaxy, including this sector." He accorded her his deepest bow.

Perdimia entered the room, her shorter hair somehow more elegantly arranged. She was clad in a long pearly gray gown, its elegance understated. She carried the Coskanito box that held Cuiva's Necklace.

"May we," Doc began, "the AI crew of the Fiver, congratulate you, Lady Cuiva, and salute you on your first step into maturity. May you live long and be happy."

"Here! Here!" chimed in Helm's tenor and Cater's alto.

"If you'll just get out of here now, Jon," Nimisha said with a wide grin to take the edge off the order, "we can begin."

The automatic bells signalled noon, and Jon strode as fast as he could out of the Fiver and toward the circle where the ceremony would take place. He couldn't quite shake off the amazing visions of mother and daughter until he was suddenly engulfed by the sun-warmed fragrance of the blooms that had been gathered to enhance this outdoor affair. The tarpaulin did provide shade for Sh'im sun-sensitive eyes, but it also kept in the floral aromas, intensifying them. Bleachers that had been erected to accommodate the hordes of spectators were already crammed. He saw Syrona taking her seat by Casper and Tim, and noticed there was an empty place on a chair-not a Sh'im stool, for which he was immensely grateful-beside Caleb, with his first officer just beyond him. So he made his way there. Opposite the naval contingent was a special raised section, designed so the view of the smaller Sh'im would not be impeded by the floral decorations massed to create a circle. Many of the humans were seated on couches and chairs, Jon absently noted. Safer than those wretched stools.

The circle was broken by a few strategically placed gaps for exits and entrances. In its center stood a three-tiered podium. That was where Nimisha would formally Necklace her daughter.

Over the liquid vowel sounds of the Sh'im, he heard music. The musicians might have been professionally inferior to the fine orchestra that Lady Rezalla would have hired for the occasion, but the strains of old Earth tunes were, to his thinking, far more appropriate to rustic Erehwon, As he took his seat, he thought maybe they should call the Fiver "Erehwon." Not accurate, though: That ship would always know where she was!

A hush settled. The soft music faltered a moment and then bravely started a triumphant march, not quite martial but vaguely familiar to him and in the proper tempo for a sedate progress. He turned his head, as everyone did, to see Nimisha, leading her daughter by the hand down the slight slope to the shaded arena. Sunlight sent shafts of light from the jewelled Necklace Nimisha wore. There were oohs and aaahs from the humans and the Sh'im liquid sound of approval, certainly the most beautiful sounds they made and far more evocative of joyfulness than human exclamations. Cuiva kept her eyes down, not so much in modesty as to be sure of her footing on the uneven, sun-baked ground. Behind them came Perdimia, looking as if she held back tears by sheer willpower.

Nimisha led Cuiva into the garlanded circle through one of the openings, where Perdimia halted. Mother and daughter continued around its circumference: mother on the inside. This was the point of the ritual, the presentation of a daughter to the mature spectators invited to a Necklacing ceremony that signified the daughter's right to set childhood behind her. That none were relatives or highly respected family connections did not matter. Cuiva's only other near kin were fast asleep or being amused elsewhere, since even the twins were much too young to behave during this formal part of the day's ceremony.

Jon felt himself almost bursting with pride as Cuiva inclined her head to him as well as to Caleb. Having completed the circle, Nimisha led her daughter to the central podium and Perdimia advanced slowly to them. Nimisha stood on the highest tier with Cuiva on the one below, facing her mother. Perdimia held up the opened case. Slowly and gracefully Nimisha lifted up the exquisite Necklace by its ends, the jewels sparkling from the glare of what sun did penetrate tiny holes in the tarpaulin.

"With this Necklace, Cuiva Boynton-Farquahar, I, your mother, Nimisha Boynton-Rondymense, confirm that you have reached your fourteenth birthday and your minor majority. I confirm you unequivocally as my body-heir and eldest daughter."

Then Cuiva turned her back on her mother while Nimisha carefully draped the beautiful jewellery about Cuiva's slender throat, making certain that it fitted exactly over the tattoo that it replicated in gemstones, size, and design. She clasped it so that the drop sapphire exactly covered that part of the tattoo on Cuiva's back.

Nimisha stepped down to the same level as her daughter, signifying Cuiva's new level in First Family social ranking, and kissed her six times. Tears of joy streaked, but did not mar, their cheeks.

Cuiva stepped to the ground and gave Perdimia the four kisses of deep friendship before she made her way toward the naval contingent and the space station personnel. They rose as one body, the Navy saluting. Cuiva gave Caleb the six kisses of kin relationship that plainly astonished him. Jon could see Nimisha's smile of approval. But when Cuiva accorded him the same degree of relationship, he had to blink away tears of surprise and unexpected pleasure, and swallowed against a huge lump in his throat. What a graceful way to accept a stepfather! She winked at him, her eyes full of mischief for a moment before she stepped to Kendra, embracing her warmly and with two cheek kisses. She gave similar salutes to all those who had been on the Five B. She warmly embraced Syrona, Casper, and Tim, which Syrona later told Tim was more than they could have expected since they had only just recently met Cuiva. She shook hands with the Acclarke crew members and the space station personnel before she made her way across the arena to curtsy deeply to Ook and Ool, graciously bowing to the others.

Then Caleb Rustin stepped into the arena, hat under his arm, walked toward the podium where Nimisha stood, and surveyed the crowd.

"Let us all give a rousing cheer for our Lady Cuiva on this auspicious occasion."

He led the cheers, punctuated by the ululations of the Sh'im, who jumped up and down and waved their hands high above their heads, spinning round and round in place until it was a wonder none fell. With a word to Nimisha, who looked surprised, he led her to his chair and gestured for Cuiva to take the one Kendra Oscony immediately vacated, snugging a long black case under her left arm. The XO entered the circle, one step behind Caleb as he strode to the podium. Caleb took the top level and pointed his finger at Tim and Cherry, who ducked quickly around the circumference of the arena to where Ook and Ool sat. There they crouched beside the couches so they did not obstruct the Sh'im view of the next event.

"Lieutenant Commander Jonagren Svangel, Lieutenant Casper Ontell, Ensign Syrona Lester-Pitt, front and center."

Marching abreast and immediately in stride, the three came forward and halted.

"At ease," Caleb said in his most official voice.

The silence was broken by two light voices doing their best to translate unknown rites into a culture that might have nothing similar at all.

"I received a pulsed message at the beacon that I may now read," he said. He took from his breast pocket a handful of the parchment on which commendations and special orders were printed; various coloured ribbons and seals adorned the documents. "Ensign Syrona Lester-Pitt."

She took one step forward to break rank, turned an exact forty-five degrees to port, took two more steps, and smartly turned to face the commander, saluting.

"I have the pleasure to announce your promotion to Lieutenant Commander, retroactive to your landing here on Erehwon twenty years ago." He handed her the promotion document, and Kendra handed him the small box with the proper rank collar tabs. He stepped down and attached them to her uniform. Then he saluted her with a broad smile. "Well deserved, Commander. Don't move," he added as Syrona started to turn away. "It is also my distinct pleasure to award you the Galactic Medal, Gold Class with two clusters, for courage and devotion to your service above and beyond the call of duty."

Syrona's eyes widened and she blinked against tears. Kendra passed over the beautiful medal on its multicoloured bar so that Caleb could pin it above Syrona's breast pocket. This time his salute was held moments longer than necessary.

"Your courage is exceeded only by what you and your fellow survivors have managed to achieve in the most dangerous and primitive conditions. Your Service has asked me to extend their deepest respect. Your name is already listed on the Honour Board at Headquarters."

Syrona somehow managed to return to her place in rank and paid no attention to the tears still trickling down her cheeks or the fact that she had to sniffle.

Casper Ontell was promoted to full Commander and received his Galactic Medal, Gold Class with two clusters, and a repeat of the citation that Syrona had been given.

"Lieutenant Commander Jonagren Svangel, I have the great pleasure of confirming your rank as Captain, retroactive to the date you assumed command on the death of Captain Panados Querine of the Poolbeg." Caleb's grin was broader than ever as he pinned on Jon's new rank pins and handed over the promotion document. "I am also directed by Federated Sentient Planet Exploratory Service to award you the Galactic Medal, Platinum Class with four clusters."

"I don't deserve that," Jon murmured.

"Shut up," Kendra muttered back. "You bloody well do."

"Quite right, XO," Caleb said, and attached the medal with its iridescent ribbon bar to Jon's chest, saluting him with extra precision and length. He waited until Jon had taken a backward step to fall in line with his companions before he held up the final sheet.

"If you are in accord. Lieutenant Commander Lester-Pitt. Commander Ontell, and Captain Svangel, it is the wish of your Service as well as that of Fleet High Command and the Senate of the Federated Sentient Planets that you accept the administrative management of this planet and continue the fine work you have already done with your-with our alien allies. Such a decision, so far from your home planets and family, may not be an easy one to make and I am directed to allow you to consider the proposition until we have received further, or different orders sent by pulse messages. Additional support units are on their way-though we know they will take approximately four years to reach us-but any and all of them are subordinate to your commands and such titles as seem relevant to enforce the policies of mutual cooperation and development of equable Human-Sh'im relations."

The audience, including those nearest the translators, erupted into cheers, hoots, hollers, calls, whistles, and other sounds that made some humans cover their ears in protest.

Caleb stepped down from the top level. "You'll have to draft a plan for development and exploration of this sector of space, you know," he said quietly to the three newly promoted and honoured officers. "But we can take our time on that."

"Who owns this planet then?" Jon murmured, his face expressionless.

"The indigenous personnel," Caleb said with first a nod and then a shake of his head. "Which I interpret as those born here." He looked directly at Tim, so earnestly translating to Ook and Ool. "And the Sh'im. Your lot, too, Jon. D'you think Nimisha will stay on?"

"You couldn't drag Nimisha away from here with a space gantry," the Lady answered for herself, having quietly joined them. "How did you manage to blackmail so many people into agreeing to all this?" she asked.

"I didn't do anything," Caleb said, holding up his hands in mock defence. "I was on my way here." Then he relented with a big grin. "Now your esteemed mother, Lady Rezalla, made certain that neither High Command nor FSP Senate was going to slight her body-heir, since it was your ship and inimitable wit and courage that precipitated the discovery of this brand-new sector of space. And rescued our lost officers."

"Nimisha deserves a medal, too," Syrona said, blushing a little when Caleb gave her an odd look.

"Civilians don't get medals," Nimisha said. "They get greater responsibilities, but since I can pick mine-again-I'd rather stay on Erehwon with all my friends." She touched Syrona's cheek, then Casper's, before linking her arm in Jon's and standing close to him. "You've some time to kill here then on Erehwon, Caleb? Kendra?"

"That's open-ended," Caleb said with a grin and a quick glance at Jon. "I'm still your naval attache, Nimisha. I can't seem to get relieved of that duty."

"Onerous as it is," she said, pretending long-sufferance.

Tim burst into the small circle of them, hugging his mother around the hips and then pulling her down so he could see her medal, and then Caleb's and Jon's.

"Just how much did the Sh'im understand of the honours ceremony, Tim?" Caleb asked, hunkering down so he was on a level with the ten-year-old.

"Well, we know they knew that Cuiva's now an adult. They know that you got honours, and they were very impressed with the way you did it all, Caleb," he said. "Looked right o'olio to them. But the best part is that we're all staying. They really didn't want us to leave."

"As if we would," Nimisha said indignantly. "We still have to find their home world and see if Tertio's M-type can be made habitable and- What are you laughing about, Captain?" she demanded of Jon.

"Lady Rezalla knew what she was doing." Jon said.

"Lady Rezalla always knows what she's doing," her daughter said firmly. She kissed him enthusiastically while the others cheered.

"So it's just as well, isn't it," remarked Caleb at his drollest, putting his arm about Kendra's waist and pulling her close to him. "that Lady Rezalla does not know the half of what her daughter's been up to."

"Mother?" Cuiva's soft voice interrupted. "Can we start the dancing now?"

"And the eating?" Tim asked plaintively.

"Just a moment, if you will, Timothy Lester-Ontell," Jon said firmly. He pointed to where the Sh'im had been seated, on couches and chairs. Without their occupants, it was plain that these were naval issue. "How did the Sh'im end up with Acclarke furnishings?"

Syrona gasped, Casper gulped, and both stared at their son in amazement.

"Well," Tim replied, not at all dismayed by Jon's or his parents' reaction, "Captain Meterios and Brad Karpla wouldn't be needing them, since they're asleep. And I thought Ook and Ool should have something more… important looking… than their stools." Then he cocked his head questioningly at his adults. "I didn't do anything wrong, did I? We're always recycling stuff here, aren't we?"

The adults exchanged glances and then Nimisha burst out laughing.

"We are indeed always recycling stuff here," Jon said, trying very hard not to break into a smile. "But the Acclarke's furniture falls in a different category, since she's going back to her base for reassignment."

"Oh." It was obvious that Tim did not quite understand the distinction Jon was trying to make.

Casper and Syrona both started apologising at once until Jon held up his hand.

"We can't give him examples and then complain when he follows them, can we?" he said. "We all have enough back pay to refit the entire ship if anyone complains."

"No one will," Caleb said firmly. "After all, the furniture was only bolted to the floor to keep it from sliding about in turbulence."

They all began to laugh at that, while Tim kept looking from one face to another, clearly mystified.

"Is it okay for me to go eat now?" he asked.

"Yes, go on, Tim," Jon said and gave the boy a little push toward those crowding around the refreshment tables. "Only I want to be around when you two explain the difference to him," he added, cocking his finger at Tim's shocked parents. "And he's got the right idea about eating. My lady?" He held his arm for Nimisha to take and led the procession to the Necklace feast.