Free Nimisha's Ship by Anne McCaffrey Page A

without direct command. She had another AI in the compact infirmary, Doc, and a less broadly programmed one in the galley who responded to “Cater.”
    She flipped open the safety harness that she had fastened at the sound of the warning bell of reentry and rose in a single graceful movement. “I’ll be in the galley.”
    A needless comment but part of the routine she had established with her AI units. This initial run should shake out the glitches that had escaped the grueling routines to which she subjected each part of a new ship. Responses from the AI’s were very much a part of a ship that she wished to produce and sell to both the Federated Sentient Planet Space Authority and private buyers among the wealthy of her acquaintance. Many of them enjoyed flitting about the star system. Many of them preferred to have little, if any, crew and some of them were not competent enough to be permitted to travel alone. Most needed as much backup and assistance as could be crammed into a compact vessel. And a Fleet ship with a single scouting pilot would need the “company,” spurious as it was.
    The large “day” room was spacious enough to hold large parties in. That would be a boon to those who wished to entertain at their ports of call. It could also be separated into four sections with privacy shields for discreet conferences. The galley was located on the long starboard wall, and the panels on either side of it enclosed additional dispenser units to accommodate an increase in guests. The main airlock was on the port side of the cabin. On either side of the galley facility were the passageways to the six private cabins, far more spacious and well appointed than a naval vessel could permit. A circular staircase on one side gave access to the lower level, which included a well-equipped gymnasium, one of the several hydroponics units, and additional storage space. On the other side, a quick descent pole reached the lower deck, closer to the escape pods. On the main deck, beyond the private cabins, were the main storage units and the larger hydroponics. Through a safety hatch, there was the skiff secured in its own garage, and, through an additional safety hatch, the engineering section and the ship’s propulsion system.
    The medical unit was directly to the port side of the bridge: compact enough to hold state-of-the-art diagnostic equipment, a life-suspension facility, and an AI programmed to deal with any esoteric disease so far discovered—or any condition a human could be reduced to, including being flattened by the stampede of quadrupeds. The AI medic was a baritone. Nimisha had borrowed his mellifluous voice from Lord Physician Naves, a longtime friend of her dam’s. In fact, she’d nearly asked him to sire her heir. Not that she wasn’t totally satisfied with Rhidian’s performance; his genes had abetted hers in producing beauty, intelligence, and character. She wouldn’t have had Rhidian as a long-term partner—hunting bored her and stimulated him—though he had a wry sense of humor that she liked. And he seemed to be rather proud of his biological daughter, evoking Lord Tionel’s continued interest in Nimisha. But Rhidian had never understood Nimisha’s fascination with space or her propensity to do hands-on work with machinery of all kinds. Which was why Cuiva’s early childhood interest in “tinkering” was such a delightful surprise. Obviously the Rondymense genes had dominated.
    Nimisha had no intention of pushing the child into her own profession since there were many options for an intelligent, well-trained mind. She was, however, gratified that Cuiva was so happy to play with building blocks and stick-togethers while she was busy at her design screen.
    Nimisha’s thoughts right now were more on something to fill her empty stomach than on her heir.
    “I’ll have a mixed fruit juice, a green salad, and Mercassian bread,” Nimisha said as she strode across the carpeted deck. A single chair and