they reentered the Yard proper. That was the beginning of their stimulating and inclusive association.
Caleb lent his knowledge and naval expertise to Nimisha’s often intuitive ideas. He came to appreciate Jeska’s precision and practicality. Indeed, he encouraged them to include some of the more radical changes, reveling in their grasp of efficient spaceship design. It was a change for him to work with minds that were not hedged in by bureaucratic shibboleths and antiquated thinking, not to mention Fleet budgetary restrictions. Nimisha had the resources to build a squadron of her versatile long-distance yachts if it so pleased her, and Jeska kept her to what was possible, effortlessly taking over most of the less spectacular management duties.
It was inevitable that Nimisha and Caleb enjoyed some intimacies, the result of long hours of intense, cerebral work that had ended in rather special, to him, interludes. He knew she hadn’t taken these incidents seriously: No doubt she dismissed them as the needs of the moment, enjoyed them for that moment, and then forgot them in the face of more pressing concerns as she returned to her overriding desire to perfect an intergalactic spaceship. He had schooled himself to do so as well, fascinated more by her personality and her dedication to design improvement than by her beauty—not that he ever became accustomed to having such a beauty as a companion. With selective breeding and gene control now four centuries in use, no one in her stratum of society could ever be considered ugly; some were simply more beautiful than others. Indeed, beauty was hardly limited to her class, since antenatal gene repair and intelligent nutrition produced handsome folk in every walk of life. Lately, elements of bizarre styles of “beauty” had been introduced, not in the major Families, of course, who were more conservative, but in those lesser Families who delighted to shock. Some of the variants had been spectacular—but artificial in ways that did not quite come off as something the owner would be likely to bequeath to his or her successor.
Lady Rezalla actually approved of Lt. Commander Rustin, despite his rather modest body-heir tattoo, especially after she discovered from Admiral Gollanch that he was due for further promotions in his position as attaché. She could consider a possible admiral appropriate for any long-term association her daughter might make. When not even a “friendly contract” ensued after several weeklong absences with Rustin, Rezalla was almost disappointed. Nimisha did, indeed, know what was due her Family. And to her daughter.
Obviously, Nimisha’s passion for naval design far outweighed the need for any legal companionship. The best of all possible worlds, Lady Rezalla thought, for she had long practiced the art of “to have and have not” as far as males were concerned. At least, if Nimisha insisted on such an unusual career, she had chosen one of the most prestigious.
And Lt. Commander Rustin was an acceptable escort, so Lady Rezalla included him on her special guest list, an honor on which he never presumed.
The Mark 3 was built, tested, and put into production over the next three years but, after many severe tests, the perfection Nimisha wanted of it had still not been attained. Candidly Caleb Rustin agreed with her. Jeska, who spent more and more of her time in her managerial capacity, still attended their Design Room sessions and felt that the Mark 3, sleek and compact, could become claustrophobic for the light-year distances it was intended to traverse.
“Why not go back to the ellipsoid shape and keep it pure in that shape?” she suggested. “There’s really no need, especially if you plan to have this surface lander, to have all the bulges and bumps to contain the necessary storage spaces. We’ve gone a little too far in the opposite direction. Simplicity, especially with the femtosecond AI’s now available, might be the way to go.”
Caleb lent his knowledge and naval expertise to Nimisha’s often intuitive ideas. He came to appreciate Jeska’s precision and practicality. Indeed, he encouraged them to include some of the more radical changes, reveling in their grasp of efficient spaceship design. It was a change for him to work with minds that were not hedged in by bureaucratic shibboleths and antiquated thinking, not to mention Fleet budgetary restrictions. Nimisha had the resources to build a squadron of her versatile long-distance yachts if it so pleased her, and Jeska kept her to what was possible, effortlessly taking over most of the less spectacular management duties.
It was inevitable that Nimisha and Caleb enjoyed some intimacies, the result of long hours of intense, cerebral work that had ended in rather special, to him, interludes. He knew she hadn’t taken these incidents seriously: No doubt she dismissed them as the needs of the moment, enjoyed them for that moment, and then forgot them in the face of more pressing concerns as she returned to her overriding desire to perfect an intergalactic spaceship. He had schooled himself to do so as well, fascinated more by her personality and her dedication to design improvement than by her beauty—not that he ever became accustomed to having such a beauty as a companion. With selective breeding and gene control now four centuries in use, no one in her stratum of society could ever be considered ugly; some were simply more beautiful than others. Indeed, beauty was hardly limited to her class, since antenatal gene repair and intelligent nutrition produced handsome folk in every walk of life. Lately, elements of bizarre styles of “beauty” had been introduced, not in the major Families, of course, who were more conservative, but in those lesser Families who delighted to shock. Some of the variants had been spectacular—but artificial in ways that did not quite come off as something the owner would be likely to bequeath to his or her successor.
Lady Rezalla actually approved of Lt. Commander Rustin, despite his rather modest body-heir tattoo, especially after she discovered from Admiral Gollanch that he was due for further promotions in his position as attaché. She could consider a possible admiral appropriate for any long-term association her daughter might make. When not even a “friendly contract” ensued after several weeklong absences with Rustin, Rezalla was almost disappointed. Nimisha did, indeed, know what was due her Family. And to her daughter.
Obviously, Nimisha’s passion for naval design far outweighed the need for any legal companionship. The best of all possible worlds, Lady Rezalla thought, for she had long practiced the art of “to have and have not” as far as males were concerned. At least, if Nimisha insisted on such an unusual career, she had chosen one of the most prestigious.
And Lt. Commander Rustin was an acceptable escort, so Lady Rezalla included him on her special guest list, an honor on which he never presumed.
The Mark 3 was built, tested, and put into production over the next three years but, after many severe tests, the perfection Nimisha wanted of it had still not been attained. Candidly Caleb Rustin agreed with her. Jeska, who spent more and more of her time in her managerial capacity, still attended their Design Room sessions and felt that the Mark 3, sleek and compact, could become claustrophobic for the light-year distances it was intended to traverse.
“Why not go back to the ellipsoid shape and keep it pure in that shape?” she suggested. “There’s really no need, especially if you plan to have this surface lander, to have all the bulges and bumps to contain the necessary storage spaces. We’ve gone a little too far in the opposite direction. Simplicity, especially with the femtosecond AI’s now available, might be the way to go.”
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