She had gotten Blueshell and Greenstalk into this mission; they had not asked for it. They were friends and allies, and she would not harm them because of what they could become.
Maybe it was the latest news items. Maybe it was confronting the same impossibilities for the n’th time: Ravna gradually straightened, looking at those last messages. So. She believed Pham about the Skroderider threat. She also believed these two were only enemies in potential. She had thrown away everything to save them and their kind. Maybe it was a mistake, but take what advantage there is in it. If they are to be saved because you think they are allies, then treat them as allies. Treat them as the friends they are. We are all pawns together.
Ravna pushed gently toward her cabin’s doorway.
The Skroderiders’ cabin was just behind the command deck. Since the debacle at RIP, the two had not left it. As she drifted down the passage toward their door, Ravna half-expected to see Pham’s handiwork lurking in the shadows. She knew he was doing his best to “protect himself'. Yet there was nothing unusual. What will he think of my visiting them?
She announced herself. After a moment Blueshell appeared. His skrode was wiped clean of cosmetic stripes, and the room behind him was a jumble. He waved her in with quick jerks of his fronds.
“My lady.”
“Blueshell,” she nodded at him. Half the time she cursed herself for trusting the Riders; the other half, she was mortally embarrassed for having left them alone. “H-how is Greenstalk?”
Surprisingly, Blueshell’s fronds snapped together in a smile. “You guessed? This is the first day with her new skrode… I will show you, if you’d like.”
He threaded around equipment that was scattered in a lattice across the room. It was similar to the shop equipment Pham had used to build his powered armor. And if Pham had seen it, he might have lost all self- control.
“I’ve worked on it every minute since… Pham locked us in here.”
Greenstalk was in the other room. Her stalk and fronds rose from a silver pot. There were no wheels. It looked nothing like a traditional skrode. Blueshell rolled across the ceiling and extended a frond down to his mate. He rustled something at her, and after a moment, she replied.
“The skrodeling is very limited, no mobility, no redundant power supplies. I copied it off a Lesser Skroderider design, a simple thing designed by Dirokimes. It’s not meant for more than sitting in one place, facing in one direction. But it provides her with short-term memory support, and attention focusers… She is back with me.” He fussed around her, some fronds caressing hers, others pointing to the gadget he had built for her. “She herself was not badly injured. Sometimes I wonder—whatever Pham says, maybe at the last second he could not kill her.”
He spoke nervously, as though afraid of what Ravna might say.
“The first few days I was very worried. But the surgeon is good. It gave her plenty of time to stand in strong surf. To think slowly. Since I’ve added on this skrodeling, she has practiced the calisthenics of memory, repeating what the surgeon or I say to her. With the skrodeling, she can hold on to a new memory for almost five hundred seconds. That’s usually long enough for her natural mind to commit a thought to long-term memory.”
Ravna drifted close. There were some new creases in Greenstalk’s fronds. Those would be scars healing. Her visual surfaces followed Ravna’s approach. The Rider knew she was here; her whole posture was friendly.
“Can she talk Trisk, Blueshell? Do you have a voder hooked up?”
“What?” Buzz. He was forgetful or nervous, Ravna couldn’t tell which. “Yes, yes. Just give me a minute… There was no need before. No one wanted to talk to us.” He fiddled with something on the home-made skrode.
After a moment, “Hello, Ravna. I… recognize you.” Her fronds rustled in time with the words.
“I know you, too. We, I am glad that you are back.”
The voder voice was faint, wistful? “Yes. It’s hard for me to tell. I do want to talk, but I’m not sure… am I’m making sense?”
Out of Greenstalk’s sight, Blueshell flicked a long tendril, a gesture: say yes.
“Yes, I understand you, Greenstalk.” And Ravna resolved never again to get angry with Greenstalk about not remembering.
“Good.” Her fronds straightened and she didn’t say anything more.
“See?” came Blueshell’s voder voice. “I am brightly cheerful. Even now, Greenstalk is committing this conversation to long-term memory. It goes slowly for now, but I am improving the skrodeling. I’m sure her slowness is mainly emotional shock.” He continued to brush at Greenstalk’s fronds, but she didn’t say anything more. Ravna wondered just how brightly cheerful he could be.
Behind the Riders were a set of display windows, customized now for the Rider outlook. “You’ve been following the News?” Ravna asked.
“Yes, indeed.”
“I-I feel so helpless.” I feel so foolish, saying that to you.
But Blueshell didn’t take offense. He seemed grateful for the change of topic, preferring the gloom at a distance. “Yes. We certainly are famous now. Three fleets chasing us down, my lady. Ha ha.”
“They don’t seem to be gaining very fast.”
Frond shrug. “Sir Pham has turned out to be a competent ship’s master. I’m afraid things will change as we descend. The ship’s higher automation will gradually fail. What you call ‘manual control’ will become very important. OOB was designed for my race, my lady. No matter what Sir Pham thinks of us, at bottom we can fly it better than any. So bit by bit the others will gain—at least those who truly understand their own ships.”
It was something she hadn’t guessed, certainly something she would never have found reading the Net. Too bad it’s also bad news. “S-surely Pham must know this?”
“I think he must. But he is trapped in his own fears. What can he do? If not for you, My Lady Ravna, he might have killed us already. Maybe when the choice comes down to dying in the next hour against trusting us, maybe then there will be a chance.”
“By then it will be too late. Look, even if he doesn’t trust—even though he believes the worst of Riders— there must still be a way.” And it came to her that sometimes you don’t have to change the way people think, or even whom they may hate. “Pham wants to get to the Bottom, to recover this Countermeasure. He thinks you may be from the Blight, and after the same thing. But up to a point—” up to a point he can cooperate, postpone the showdown he imagines till perhaps it won’t matter.
Even as she started to say it, Blueshell was already shouting back at her. “I’m am not of the Blight! Greenstalk is not! The Rider race is not!” He swept around his mate, rolled across the ceiling till his fronds rattled right before Ravna’s face.
“I’m sorry. It’s just the potential—”
“Nonsense!” His voder buzzed off scale. “We ran in to an evil few. Every race has such, people who will kill for trade. They forced Greenstalk, substituted data at her voder. Pham Nuwen would kill our billions for the sake of this fantasy.” He waved, inarticulate. Something she had never seen in a Skroderider: his fronds actually changed tone, darkened.
The motion ceased, yet he said nothing more. And then Ravna heard it, a keening that might have come from a voder. The sound was steadily growing, a howl that made all Blueshell’s sound effects friendly nonsense. It was Greenstalk.
The scream reached a threshold just below pain, then broke into choppy Triskweline: “It’s true! Oh, by all our trading, Blueshell, it’s true…” and staticky noise came from her voder. Her fronds started shaking, random turning that must be like a human’s eyes wildly staring, like a human’s mouth mumbling hysteria.
Blueshell was already back by the wall, reaching to adjust her new skrode. Greenstalk’s fronds brushed him away, and her voder voice continued, “I was horror struck, Blueshell. I was horror struck, struck by horror. And it would not stop…” the voice rattled quiet for just an instant, and this time Blueshell made no move. “I remember everything up till the last five minutes. And everything Pham says is true, dear love. Loyal as you are, and I have seen that loyalty now for two hundred years, you would be turned in an instant… just as I was.” Now that the dam broke, her words came quickly, mostly making sense. The horrors she could remember were graven deep, and she was finally coming out of ghastly shock. “I was right behind you, remember, Blueshell? You were deep in your trading with the tusk-legs, so deep you did not really see. I noticed the other Riders coming toward us. No matter: a friendly meeting, so far from home. Then one touched my Skrode. I—” Greenstalk hesitated. Her fronds rattled
