A Fire Upon the Deep

by Vernor Vinge

  “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.

  Note 1000

  “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 focussers…. 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 calesthenics 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.”

  Note 1001

  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.

  Note 1002

  “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.”

  Note 1003

  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 and she began again, “horror struck, horror struck ….”

  After a moment: “It was like suddenly new memories in the skrode, Blueshell. New memories, new attitudes. But thousands of years deep. And not mine. Instantly, instantly. I never even lost consciousness. I thought just as clearly, I remembered all I had before.”

  “And when you resisted?” Ravna said softly.

  Note 1004

  “… Resisted? My Lady Ravna, I did not resist. I was theirs…. No. Not theirs, for they were owned, too. We were things, our intelligence
in service to another’s goal. Dead, and alive to see our death. I would kill you, I would kill Pham, I would kill Blueshell. You know I tried. And when I did, I wanted to succeed. You could not imagine, Ravna. You humans speak of violation. You could never know….” Long pause. “That’s not quite right. At the Top of the Beyond, within the Blight itself — perhaps there, everyone lives as I did.”

  The shuddering did not subside, but her gestures were no longer aimless. The fronds were saying something in her own language, and brushing gently against Blueshell.

  “Our whole race, dear love. Just as Pham says it.”

  Blueshell wilted, and Ravna felt the sort of gut-tearing she had when they learned of Sjandra Kei. That had been her worlds, her family, her life. Blueshell was hearing worse.

  Ravna pushed a little closer, near enough to run her hand up the side of Greenstalk’s fronds. “Pham says it’s the greater skrodes that are the cause.” Sabotage hidden billions of years deep.

  “Yes, it is mainly the skrodes. The ‘great gift’ we Riders love so…. It is a design for control, but I fear we were remade for it, too. When they touched my skrode, I was converted instantly. Instantly, everything I cared for was meaningless. We are like smart bombs, scattered by the trillions through space that everyone thinks is safe. We will be used sparingly. We are the Blight’s hidden weapon, especially in the Low Beyond.”

  Blueshell twitched, and his voice came out jerkily: “And everything Pham claims is correct.”

  “No, Blueshell, not everything.” Ravna remembered that last chilling standoff with Pham Nuwen. “He has the facts, but he weighs them wrong. As long as your skrodes are not perverted, you are the same folk that I trusted to fly me to the Bottom.”

  Blueshell angled his look away from her, an angry shrug. Greenstalk’s voice came instead. “As long as the skrode has not been perverted…. But look how easy it was done, how sudden I became the Blight’s.”

  “Yes, but could it happen except by direct touch? Could you be ‘changed’ by reading the Net News?” She meant the question as ghastly sarcasm, but poor Greenstalk took it seriously:

  “Not by a News item, nor by standard protocol messages. But accepting a transmission targeted on skrode utilities might do it.”

  “Then we are safe here. You, because you no longer ride a greater skrode, Blueshell because—”

  “Because I was never touched — but how can you know that?” His anger was still there deep within shame, but now it was a hopeless anger, directed at something very far away.

  “No, dear love, you have not been touched. I would know.”

  “Yes, but why should Ravna believe you ?”

  Note 1005

  Everything could be a lie, thought Ravna, … but I believe Greenstalk. I believe we four are the only ones in all the Beyond who can hurt the Blight. If only Pham could see it. And that brought her back to: “You say we will start losing our lead?”

  Blueshell waved an affirmative. “As soon as we are a little lower. They should have us in a matter of weeks.”

  Note 1006

  And then it won’t matter who was perverted and who was not. “I think we should have a little chat with Pham Nuwen.” Godshatter and all.

  Note 1007

  * * *

  Note 1008

  Beforehand Ravna couldn’t imagine how the confrontation would turn out. Just possibly — if he’d lost all touch with reality — Pham might try to kill them when they appeared on the command deck. More likely there would be rage and argument and threats, and they would be back to square one.

  Instead … it was almost like the old Pham, from before Harmonious Repose. He let them enter the command deck, he made no comment when Ravna set herself carefully between himself and the Riders. He listened without interruption, while Ravna explained what Greenstalk had said. “These two are safe, Pham. And without their help we’ll not make it to the Bottom.”

  He nodded, looked away at the windows. Some showed natural starscape; most were ultratrace displays, the closest thing to a picture of the enemies that were closing on the OOB. His calm expression broke for just an instant, and the Pham that loved her seemed to stare out, desperate: “And you really believe all this, Rav? How?” Then the lid was back on, his expression distant and neutral. “Never mind. Certainly it’s true: without all of us working together we’ll never make it to Tines’ World. Blueshell, I accept your offer. Subject to cautious safeguards, we work together.”Till I can safely dispose of you, Ravna could feel the unsaid words behind his blandness. Showdown deferred.

  Note 1009

  Note 1010

  Chapter 33

  Note 1011

  They were less than eight weeks from Tines’ World, both Pham and Blueshell said. If the Zone conditions remained stable. If they were not overtaken in the meantime.

  Note 1012

  Less than two months, after the six already voyaged. But the days were not like before. Every one was a challenge, a standoff sometimes cloaked in civility, sometimes flaring into threats of sudden death — as when Pham retrieved Blueshell’s shop equipment.

  Note 1013

  Pham was living on the command deck now; when he left it, the hatch was locked on his ID. He had destroyed, or thought he had destroyed, all other privileged links to the ship’s automation. He and Blueshell were in almost constant collaboration … but not like before. Every step was slow, Blueshell explaining everything, allowed to demonstrate nothing. That’s where the arguments came closest to deadly force, when Pham must give in to one peril or the other. For every day the pursuing fleets were a little bit closer: two bands of killers, and what was left of Sjandra Kei. Evidently some of the SjK Commercial Security fleet could still fight, wanted revenge on the Alliance. Once Ravna suggested to Pham that they contact Commercial Security, try to persuade them to attack the Blighter fleet. Pham had given her a blank look. “Not yet, maybe not ever,” he said, and turned away. In a way his answer was a relief: Such a battle would be a suicidal long shot. Ravna didn’t want the last of her kinsfolk dying for her.

  So the OOB might arrive at Tines’ World before the enemy, but with what little time to spare! Some days Ravna withdrew in tears and despair. What brought her back was Jefri and Greenstalk. They both needed her, and for a few weeks more she could still help.

  Note 1014

  Mr. Steel’s defense plans were proceeding. The Tines were even having some success with their wideband radio. Steel reported that Woodcarver’s main force was on its way north; there was more than one race against time. She spent many hours with the OOB‘s library, devising more gifts for the Jefri’s friends. Some things — like telescopes — were easy, but others…. It wasn’t wasted effort. Even if the Blight won, its fleet might ignore the natives, might settle for killing the OOB and winning back the Countermeasure.

  Note 1015

  Greenstalk was slowly improving. At first Ravna was afraid the improvement might be in her own imagination. Ravna was spending a good part of each day sitting with the Rider, trying to see progress in her responses. Greenstalk was very “far away”, almost like a human with stroke damage and prosthesis. In fact, she seemed regressed from the articulate horror of her first conversations. Maybe her recent progress was just a mirror to Ravna’s sensitivity, to the fact that Ravna was with her so much. Blueshell insisted there was progress, but with that stubborn inflexibility of his. Two weeks, three — and there was no doubt: something was healing at the boundary between Rider and skrodeling. Greenstalk consistently made sense, consistently committed important rememberings…. Now as often as not it was she helping Ravna. Greenstalk saw things that Ravna had missed: “Sir Pham isn’t the only one who is afraid of us Skroderiders. Blueshell is frightened too, and it is tearing him apart. He can’t admit it even to me, but he thinks it’s possible that we’re infected independently of our skrodes. He desperately wants to convince Pham that this is not true — and so to convince himself.” She was silent for a long moment, one frond brushing again
st Ravna’s arm. Sea sounds surrounded them in the cabin, but ship’s automation could no longer produce surging water. “Sigh. We must pretend the surf, dear Ravna. Somewhere it will always be, no matter what happened at Sjandra Kei, no matter what happens here.”

  * * *

  Blueshell was hearty gentleness around his mate, but alone with Ravna his rage showed through: “No, no, I don’t object to Sir Pham’s navigation, at least not now. Perhaps we could be a little further ahead with me directly at the helm, but the fastest ships behind us would still be closing. It’s the other things, my lady. You know how untrustworthy our automation is down here. Pham is hurting it further. He’s written his own security overrides. He’s turning the ship’s environment automation into a system of boobytraps.”

  Ravna had seen evidence of this. The areas around OOB‘s command deck and ship’s workshop looked like military checkpoints. “You know his fears. If this makes him feel safer—”

  “That’s not the point, My Lady. I would do anything to persuade him to accept my help. But what he’s doing is deadly dangerous. Our Bottom automation is not reliable, and he’s making it actively worse. If we get some sudden stress, the environment programs will likely have a bizarre crash — atmosphere dump, thermal runaway, anything.”

  “I—”

  “Doesn’t he understand? Pham controls nothing.” His voder broke into a nonlinear squawk. “He has the ability to destroy, but that is all. He needs my help. He was my friend. Doesn’t he understand?”

  * * *

  Pham understood … oh, Pham understood. He and Ravna still talked. Their arguments were the hardest thing in her life. And sometimes they didn’t exactly argue; sometimes it was almost like rational discussion:

  “I haven’t been taken over, Ravna. Not like the Blight takes over Riders, anyway. I still have charge of my soul.” He turned away from the console and flashed a wan smile in her direction, acknowledging the flaw in such self-conviction. And from things like that smile, Ravna was convinced that Pham Nuwen still lived, and sometimes spoke.