Nimisha's Ship Read online

  THERE WERE TWO malicious attempts to injure Lady Cuiva, so clumsy that Lady Rezalla was outraged: How could anyone think a message bomb or a poisoned plant sent to her granddaughter would reach its intended victim?

  The Residence Manager had, in any case, been programmed to investigate any package or hand-delivered formal invitation sent to the House. The RM detected the dangerous message immediately and disarmed it. The RM then informed Lady Rezalla, the Acclarkian Peace Guardians, and Commander Caleb Rustin of the incident.

  The message folder was similar to any of hundreds manufactured on the planet; when opened, it was set to detonate an explosive.

  “For a younger child,” the APG said, examining the now-impotent device, “it would have caused serious injuries. Your granddaughter would have sustained only minimal damage.”

  “That,” Lady Rezalla said scornfully, “is not much comfort. I want the perpetrators caught and punished to the full extent of the law.”

  “Dear lady,” the APG said, ruefully shaking his head. He had been chosen for this assignment because he knew First Family protocol and how to deal with indignant members of that society. “We shall certainly do our best to arrest the perpetrators. But, in fact, this,” and he jiggled the disarmed message envelope, “was useless as well as stupidly contrived since, obviously, your granddaughter’s age and size were ignored. I do, however, respectfully suggest that this House go on an alert status against subsequent invasions of its privacy and/or the causing of injury or distress to its residents. I shall instruct the patrols that they should keep an especial watch on your House, Lady Rezalla.”

  She repeated her first demand in an even more disapproving manner, which he took with the grace for which he was noted.

  “Be assured, Lady Rezalla, that my department does not treat this matter lightly. The Peace Guardians consider the protection of members of Acclarke’s illustrious First Families the most important aspect of their many duties. May I comment on your wisdom in employing Perdimia Ejallos as Lady Cuiva’s constant companion.”

  Lady Rezalla regarded him with an expression of displeased surprise.

  “Oh, yes, Lady Rezalla, we have already investigated the young woman’s background and family. She will guard her charge with her life.”

  “That’s what she’s been employed to do.”

  Commander Rustin’s response was to rig about the House the most sensitive alarm system the Vegan Fleet possessed. He got permission to install a repeller shield in the ground vehicle that was generally used by Lady Rezalla, Cuiva, and Perdimia for their social activities and other excursions. He presented both Lady Cuiva and Perdimia with a top-secret personal alarm. His presentation was as offhand as he could manage, considering the necessity for keeping Cuiva ignorant of the malicious message.

  “Cuiva, I’ve a little gift for you today,” he said, displaying the golden band in its velvet case.

  “A Coskanito?” Lady Cuiva exclaimed, noticing the name discreetly printed in gold on the cover. “Oh!” she cried, examining the delicate bracelet within.

  Coskanito was not only the maker of the special body-heir Necklaces for the First Families but also of elegant adornments with unusual, hidden facets. This bracelet, which fastened snugly around the wrist, immediately detected any increase in pulse, consonant with its wearer’s alarm or excitement. Perdimia recognized what it was instantly but connived with the commander to exclaim over its charm so that Cuiva would not realize she was wearing a personal alarm. Contained in the circuitry was a homing device, so that Cuiva’s location could be traced anywhere on Vega III.

  When the commander later, and privately, gave Perdimia a silver bracelet from the same maker, she was both pleased and even more concerned.

  “You don’t think . . .”

  “That Lord Vestrin will try again? I certainly do, Perdimia,” Caleb said. “He’s known to be a vindictive sort.”

  “I’d look to his dam more than him, sir,” Perdimia said, her expression angry.

  “Vescuya?” he asked. Perdimia nodded. “That’s a point. Especially since it is Lord Vestrin who has seen Cuiva whereas I doubt his dam has.”

  He took that suggestion more seriously when the second attempt was made: An exotic flowering plant was sent by an “unknown admirer” after Lady Cuiva’s appearance—well guarded—at the ballet. The leaves of the plant had been coated with a contact poison, and the blooms had been treated with a dust that would have badly affected the lungs of anyone sniffing the fragrant blossom. The RM had detected the poison and reported it.

  “Poison is generally a woman’s choice,” Lady Rezalla remarked, circling the dangerous plant on the table where it had been set until the AGP could arrive.

  “Would Lady Vescuya . . .” Commander Rustin said. He had been close enough to answer the RM’s emergency pulse in moments. He had not mentioned to anyone that he had, in fact, taken new quarters in a nearby building where a naval security unit had been set up for permanent surveillance of the Boynton-Chonderlee Compound.

  “Lady Vescuya most certainly would,” Lady Rezalla said scathingly. “A worm of a woman. Can’t figure out why dear Ti ever consorted with her, except she had quite a talent for attracting the opposite sex. Cultivated it into an art. Can’t stand any member of her own sex. Nor we her, for that matter. That would explain why the letter bomb was so ineffective. She never bothered to check how old Nimisha’s body-heir is! Stupid woman! Ineffectual! I’ve always suspected that she isn’t full-blooded First Family. There are certain standards that all of us,”—she placed her hand gracefully on her chest—“keep no matter what the provocation.”

  “Provocation?” the commander repeated.

  She looked down her elegant nose at him despite his superior height. “I have been tempted occasionally, Commander, when events have seriously tried my patience. I consider it my duty, however, to adhere to the strictures and disciplines of my lineage. Make no doubt of that!”

  “I do not, Lady Rezalla, I fervently assure you.” He bowed low in apology for any unintentional affront to her dignity.

  Cuiva never knew of the existence of this dangerous gift. The AGP, now attached as additional protection for the Boynton-Chonderlee Compound, took the plant away for forensic analysis. The RM had of course taped the delivery; the tape showed a man wearing the livery of a well-known courier agency. When the agency representatives were shown the tape, they said the person was not employed by them and was illegally using their livery. They opened their personnel files to prove their point. They were horrified and promised to do all possible to protect the Boynton-Farquahar body-heir. The other courier firms were put on alert, just in case their agency was misused for a similar errand.

  The day after the plant’s delivery, a third untoward event occurred in the space adjacent to the Rondymense Ship Yard. An old freighter hulk, ostensibly bound for the supply dock, suddenly started its engines, its trajectory inexorably making for the gantry around the Fiver B; a trajectory that could not be random, since the gantry was nowhere close to the main supply station. When there was no response to the Navy’s first hail and warning to sheer off, the naval yard defensive batteries blasted its engines and it was intercepted by a high-speed tug before it reached the Fiver’s vicinity. The tug deployed a strong netting material around the hulk and gently braked it to a stop. When it was boarded, after very careful remote scrutiny, it was found that it had been carrying considerable explosive material, surrounded by scrap metal to make it a giant shrapnel shell. The experts deduced from the installation of the explosive and the detonating device—which was set to explode on a sudden deceleration, such as might be caused by contact at high relative velocity with another object—that had it come any closer to the Ship Yard it could have easily caused significant damage, not so much from the explosion itself as from the fragments propelled from the point of detonation by the explosives.

  “To my mind, that is just a further example of their ineffectuality,” Caleb told the admiral when t
hey discussed the matter with the Fleet Security staff.

  “Their?” the admiral repeated. “Is this a gang? I thought you said you were certain that the Rondymense body-heir was behind the attempts on the child.”

  “I do, but I think his womb-mother is as deeply involved.”

  The admiral stared angrily at the commander. “First Families are supposed to be above such antics. Especially someone with an FF tattoo. If they have aggressions, they can dissipate them on the hunting preserves set up for that purpose. But to attack humans! And a child at that. Revolting!”

  Caleb Rustin and the others in the room murmured agreement.

  “Proof of such aggression will have to be without the shadow of a doubt, you know,” the admiral said sternly.

  “If they are as stupid as these three attempts indicate,” Caleb remarked, “they are likely to give themselves away in an irretrievable fashion.”

  He looked over to the Security chief, who was there to report on the investigations of how, or why, a derelict freighter had been in that vicinity and illegally packed with explosives. Lt. Commander Barney Bellpage stood and flashed images on the main screen of the admiral’s ready room.

  “We’ve traced the freighter, which was bought from the scrapyard for far more than it was worth by an unknown using untraceable pay-bearer credit chits,” he reported. The subject freighter was seen hanging amid the remnants that infested the area. “The freighter was towed, part of the purchase fee, to coordinates and left there. Beyond any surveillance drones, naturally.”

  “Naturally,” the admiral said drily and waved at the commander to continue.

  “With so many private and public fields available to the perpetrators, we are slowly sifting through arrivals and departures, and the APG is tracing the supplier of the explosive material. Unfortunately it is a readily available commercial product for construction contractors. We are also checking the construction firms to see if any quantities of explosives in their inventories have suddenly disappeared.

  “Unfortunately, that takes time,” the commander went on sourly, “but we should have some leads shortly. The APG is also tracing unusual deposits in credit accounts of some of the less respectable traders in such substances. They are quite upset about the attempts to harm a body-heir, and one not even of her minor majority. As they are well aware of the penalties for being accessories to such a heinous crime, they are assisting our efforts. They suggest, most respectfully, that the explosives might have originated off-planet.”

  Looks were exchanged among those in the office: they all knew that both Lady Vescuya and Lord Vestrin had been off-planet for some time.

  “No matter, we merely extend the search,” the admiral said, bringing one fist down on the table to emphasize his resolution. He turned toward Caleb Rustin. “How soon will Five B be ready for space? The safest place for that child is on her and out of this system.”

  Caleb was speechless for a moment. That solution to Cuiva’s safety had never occurred to him. She was far too young to be an asset to a search party, even if its object was finding her mother. Certainly accompanying the search would remove her from harm’s way. Could Lady Rezalla be persuaded to such a course? She doted on her granddaughter.

  “APG is aware of our suspicions as to the source of these attempts,” he began.

  The admiral snorted. “And can do nothing without absolute, airtight proof that a First Family scion would dare harm the body-heir of another. It’s unheard of. Totally out of character for any First Family!” His sarcasm mirrored his disgust with the notion that First Families, merely by virtue of their social status, were totally free of greed, dishonor, and underhanded activities.

  “Lady Rezalla believes that Lord Vestrin’s dam is behind the attempts,” Caleb said, “not Lord Vestrin. Though the freighter stratagem is more in keeping with his personality than the message bomb or the poisoned plant.”

  “Lord Vestrin’s logged off-planet with a hunting party,” Bellpage said with a weary sigh.

  “Are you absolutely sure of that?” Caleb asked.

  Bellpage sat up straight and stared at Caleb. “Yes, I see your point. If the admiral will excuse me, I’ll check further. We have a patrol unit near his destination planet. I’ll insist on vid proof of his presence.”

  The admiral waved him off on that errand.

  “Lady Vescuya remains in Acclarke,” Caleb said. “But her activities are being closely monitored.” He grinned. “She’s a very busy lady.”

  “See if you can persuade Lady Rezalla to allow Lady Cuiva to go off-planet. She will be safer,” the admiral said. “The three-month shakedown cruise would not be too arduous for a girl her age and her safety would be assured.”

  To give Lady Rezalla credit, she considered the notion only briefly before agreeing.

  “I’d even considered putting her into suspension to keep her safe,” Lady Rezalla said, but she dismissed that option with a flick of her long white fingers, delicately tipped in a pink that matched her flowing attire. “And keep her safe we must! She is, unfortunately, too young yet to have a body-heir to whom she can assign her possessions.”

  The very notion of that shocked Caleb. He did happen to know that Cuiva had started menstruation, but the very thought of the twelve-year-old child having a body-heir merely to preserve her assets unto the next generation was nothing short of brutal.

  “I will not allow that man, nor his dam, to succeed, or profit by their machinations,” Lady Rezalla said in the harshest voice he had ever heard her use. Her tone made him straighten to full attention. “The ship can carry a crew of six, if I correctly remember such details from Nimisha’s rattling on about its unique specifications.”

  “More if necessary, milady, though not in as elegant a manner.”

  “Manner be damned if my grandchild’s life is at risk. Perdimia, of course, will accompany her. Jeska will have to stay and run the yard, since she does that well, according to my reports.”

  “She does,” Caleb admitted. His mind was already leaping forward to the tasks of altering the luxury cabins to accommodate more crew and choosing a crew of utterly trustworthy credentials and skills.

  “I shall check with my legal staff and see how to compose a Will that will secure my granddaughter’s assets, and those of her mother. I will inform you within the hour of the results, Commander. Keep yourself available to my call.”

  “I shall, my lady.”

  He bowed himself out of her chamber. Outside, he let off a whoosh of surprise. That had been incredibly easy.

  “The shakedown cruise lasts three months, which is a start,” he murmured to himself as he left the House. “And that gives time to find any evidence there might be that Vestrin and Vescuya are behind the attempts. If we’re lucky. After that? We haven’t even any idea of which direction to search in!”

  There had been no reports of any activity from the monitors on guard in the section of space where Nimisha had expected to re-enter normal space: both Caleb and the admiral had known the details of her flight plan for that test-run. No one still knew if, indeed, that wormhole had been the cause of the disappearance. Nor had anyone come forward with any other explanation for why nineteen ships had gone missing in that area. He would rather they had a destination in mind. Even the maw of the wormhole.

  Frustratingly, it took three more weeks to test Five B with the augmented and refined elements that had been on Nimisha’s disks. Hiska noticeably lost weight and apparently would keep going until she fell asleep at her workstation. Lord Vestrin definitely was part of the hunting party, and discreet inquiry revealed that he had been seen boarding his friend’s space yacht at Vega III Port. However, that did not keep him from having hired someone to act as his agent. GoP were doing their own hunting. So was the Fleet. Lady Vescuya was being closely watched. Lady Rezalla, who was well liked and respected by her contemporaries, subtly queried them about the woman’s associates and social activities. Lady Vescuya’s methods might be amateurish and c
lumsy, but no one could find a link between her and either the message bomb or the plant.

  On the advice of the APG as well as Caleb, Cuiva was housebound and a rumor was circulated that she was suffering from some malady. Lord Naves, in fact, was to be seen hurrying to the House several times a day. Emergency medical equipment was delivered and specialists arrived and departed. If Lady Vescuya had a spy watching, she might be fooled into thinking the poisoned plant was responsible for such activity. Lady Rezalla curtailed her social visits and canceled several engagements for herself and Lady Cuiva.

  Two further inept attempts to damage Five B were foiled before any damage could occur. The first one was a robotic device, its reservoir charged with an acid that could destroy almost any metal. The second was an unmanned personnel gig, similar to those used by the Yard for short hops between construction sites. When it responded to an identity request, the answer was not only wrong but also delivered in the flat tone of a bad recording.

  “The most sophisticated of the tries,” Caleb said when the gig was tractor-beamed into space and its explosive package disarmed. Of course, whoever had sent it could not have known of the increased security at the Yard, or that all the access codes for traffic to and from Rondymense had been changed.

  “Their information was fortunately out-of-date,” Bellpage said. “We now have off-planet suspects that we are investigating.”

  “The sooner that ship is out of here, the better. And Lady Cuiva on it,” the admiral said.

  “Lady Cuiva must first be seen alive and well,” Lady Rezalla put in. She had accompanied Caleb Rustin to Fleet Headquarters. “Completely recovered from a mystifying childhood fever. Her legal position as body-heir is unassailable. Nor, I am assured by our solicitors, can it be contested.” She gave a smug smile. “Even so, Commander, I expect you to find my daughter before she can be legally assumed to be . . . dead.” Lady Rezalla’s expression challenged the commander.

  “My intention, I assure you, Lady Rezalla,” Caleb replied firmly.