by Vernor Vinge
The place was beyond the range of Scrupilo’s little airboat. Three days passed, where the only word was Nevil’s voice reporting and happy messages from various of his followers. He was promising pictures any day now. When it came down through the orbiter, Ravna put the video in the Meeting Place.
Ravna and Woodcarver were present at the first showing, along with almost all the remaining Children and their Friends.
Nevil’s “Best Hope” settlement was near the edge of a hanging valley set in the wall of the Streamsdell river valley. It was in the Icefangs, just beyond Woodcarver’s territorial claims in that direction. Those highlands were not much favored by Tinish hunter-farmers, but Nevil was optimistic. In fact, the first video showed him near the middle of the Streamsdell Valley. “This land is ideal for humans, for independence and growth. Come see this in a year. There will be the green buds of our new hardicore grass, a chartreuse carpet stretching all the way to the edge of the Nordhus glacier.”
“Good luck, asshole!” someone in the audience shouted. “You guys never grew anything when you were here.”
The viewpoint bumpily slewed around, away from the glacier, past the river and then up the north valley wall. Some of the Tines were making wondering noises. Øvin said, “Hei, look! That must be why they picked this place!”
From the camera’s position, they could see something that was probably not visible to travelers taking the usual route along Streamsdell: a vertical slit in the dark rock of the side valley.
“That’s what, twenty meters tall?” someone said.
Nevil’s friendly voice rambled on behind their local commentary: “—apparently the Tines were never aware that the warm springs here supported a cave system. It is a truly human discovery.” He walked back into the field of view. “Fortunately, the team that found it were loyal to the best human values. Jefri Olsndot reported this directly to me.”
The hall erupted. “That son of a bitch!” “All that time he was the ‘great explorer,’ he was working for Nevil!”
Ravna had already checked: Jefri was not in the room.
On the display, Nevil had raised his hands, almost as if he knew the racket his announcement would cause. “I know, I know. It could not have been a purely human discovery. Jefri was accompanied by pack Amdiranifani. Friendship with the Tines will always be our policy. We seek friendship with Woodcarver. We have found friendship with Tycoon of the Tropics.”
There was angry laughter. “Hei, don’t forget your late good friend Vendacious!” and, “Ten days ago it was ‘Tycoon of the East Coast.’”
Nevil continued, “But my friends, a time has come for moral decisions. For too long, we’ve accepted the advice of misguided humans and Tines. Humans who truly want peace have a place with our settlement here at Best Hope. There is no need for the endless preparation for apocalypse that Ravna Bergsndot has forced upon you and the Tines of Woodcarver’s Domain. There was a time when we were too young and too desperate to know any better. Ravna and Woodcarver and Flenser saved the lives of all us young refugees who survived their initial massacre. We owe them so much. But at the same time, we owe our parents. They died at the High Lab in a noble effort, the highest striving that any humans have ever undertaken. We must not fall into the destructive hatred that Ravna preaches.”
“Same old, same old!” Giske said. “We have records.”
Ravna heard Øvin reply, “I’m sure Nevil will soon have his own records.”
“Besides, no one knows what really happened at the High Lab,” said someone else, that Ravna couldn’t see.
“We don’t even know what happened in near space, ten years ago!”
“Shut up!”
Nevil’s voice swept on, leaving a wake of tiny dissensions. “I hope that as more of you take honest inventory of the facts, you’ll see beyond the loyalties of the past, and that you and your friends—including any Tinish Best Friends!—will come to join us here at our redoubt of Straum. All who come with honest hearts will be welcome. But whether you agree with us or not—please! Whatever the disagreements, peace between our two human fragments is a desperate necessity. We may be all that is left of our race. In fact, after the galactic genocide of ten years ago, we may be all that is left from the High Beyond.”
Now Nevil was walking up the hillside, toward the entrance of his “redoubt.” His people were coming out, walking down to meet him, all smiles and laughter. Surrounded by familiar faces, Nevil turned and looked into the camera. “So even if we remain apart, even if we have profound disagreements … let us cooperate in surviving. You of the Domain have immense resources. You have Oobii and the treasures in Newcastle. These are the shared inheritance of our Beyonder origin. Let us cooperate in using them.”
That first video left the kids arguing throughout the afternoon. The second and third videos were so similar that by the time the fourth one came in, Ravna just watched the kids’ reaction from the bridge. There was no crowd in the Meeting Place; the message could be rewatched at any time. The live audience consisted mainly of sad Children hoping to see a few seconds of their lost loved ones.
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But Nevil’s fourth message was different.
The video started with pictures of the Deniers’ new construction, inside the caves. They were building without the aid of Oobii technology, but now Ravna saw the use the Deniers had made of the gear stripped from the Straumer Lander. Indeed, it was not junk—she’d simply never figured out the user interface! Under sunny artificial lighting, the caves looked warm and dry. Three “participation homes”—that’s what Nevil called them—were already in place. Fresh timber was stacked everywhere, sawn and measured, ready for the construction of more housing. The timber and carpentering must be from Tycoon via Dekutomon. Somehow Nevil had patched things up with his remaining ally.
The few Children down in Oobii’s Meeting Place were using their new radios to tell others about the pictures. By the time a crowd started to form in the Meeting Place, Nevil had finished his show-and-tell of Best Hope marvels and was moving on to the platitudes. As usual he was surrounded by smiling faces. But now, Ravna wasn’t paying much attention; she could almost recite what the rest would be. Sure enough: “So even though we have profound disagreements … let us cooperate in surviving. You of the Domain have immense resources. We at Best Hope have the goodwill of Tines from the Tropics all the way to the Long Lakes and the East Coast. We have made peace with what was once a fearsome Enemy: Tycoon. By winning his trust and goodwill, we have secured the release of everyone he is holding. The release”—
Ravna’s eyes snapped up to the display. Downstairs, she heard gasps and then babble.
—“is without conditions. It’s happening because we showed Tycoon that—unlike Ravna and Woodcarver—we of Best Hope mean him no harm.” Nevil paused. Around him, his Deniers were cheering. Downstairs on the Oobii, the Children were cheering too, but more raggedly.
“We expect,” continued Nevil, “that most of the newly freed will prefer to stay here at Best Hope.” He paused, letting them all think on the consequences of that. “But we recognize that for the most extreme of Ravna’s acolytes, that would destroy whatever goodwill our effort should bring.” His expression darkened, one of the rare moments when the public Nevil looked angry. “Make no mistake. We won’t trade the freedom of any of these Children. We won’t force anyone to return to Ravna and Woodcarver and Flenser. But we welcome a peace party from the Domain. Any may come. Your party will have free access to all who are released. You can determine for yourself the desires of the freed Children and Tines.”
Ravna saw that Elspa Latterby had collapsed in tears. She wasn’t the only one weeping. Ravna ran out of the bridge, heading for the Meeting Place.
CHAPTER 43
Everyone wanted to go to the Great Prisoner Release. Woodcarver exercised some of her old authority and asked Ravna to come up to the New Castle for a private chat. They met in Woodcarver’s throne room. Sht was big enough for it
s own little throne now. The other puppy nestled on the shoulders of another member.
“Nevil has stolen half the human race and almost all the equipment that wasn’t nailed down. I don’t want the rest of you in his claws.”
Ravna nodded; she had spent the afternoon talking to the kids, and worrying about the same thing. “But you’ll provide a military escort, right?”
“Of course! And unless Nevil has magic we don’t know about, my troops totally outgun him. But consider. We have only Nevil’s word of this agreement”—there was still no direct communication with Tycoon—“and if there is a deal between those two, we have no idea what it is. For all I know, Tycoon could field a force that would trump mine. There is no treachery that I put beyond these two.”
That was something the remaining Children agreed on, too. “Okay. I think I can persuade most of the Children to stay behind.” Ravna no longer looked like the victim of a sadistic mugging, but the kids were still amazingly solicitous of her. She had to be careful in making casual statements lest they take them as imperatives. “I am going, however.”
Woodcarver emitted a sigh. “That’s what I was afraid of, and I fear it undoes all our other caution.”
Ravna smiled. “I take it that you’re not going?”
“I’m not crazy.” Woodcarver’s tone was sour. “On top of everything else, there’s the possibility that all this is a feint, and Tycoon is set to attack us here.”
Ravna nodded. What Woodcarver said made sense, but—“You know, I think there’s still a chance for Pilgrim. From Wenda, I gather that Jo and Pilgrim crashed right in the middle of Tycoon’s operation. I know Tycoon wasn’t aware of that! It’s possible that Pilgrim is still in hiding down there. And Tycoon is not the monster Vendacious was. Even if Tycoon has captured Pilgrim, I think he’d be safe.”
Woodcarver sat back. All her eyes were on Ravna, except for the puppies, who were looking at each other. They did that just when the old Woodcarver would have said something really nasty. When she finally spoke, Woodcarver just sounded sad: “But Jo didn’t tell Wenda what had become of Pilgrim. And when we were all on stage, we learned nothing more; Tycoon was too busy ripping at her. Face it, Ravna. Both Jo and Pilgrim are dead.”
This was a dark outlook Woodcarver was not showing in public. Maybe the pessimism was entirely little Sht’s influence, or maybe it had more history. “You also grieve for Vendacious, don’t you, Woodcarver?”
Woodcarver’s heads came up abruptly. “Yes. I grieve for a monstrous pack, who after a century shared virtually none of my blood. Even my own advisors call my sympathy ‘the Queen’s madness.’”
“Not … madness.” But Ravna remembered her horror when Gannon was crushed; Woodcarver’s grief was a different thing. “You packs—you in particular—have done something most civilizations can’t do until they’ve externalized thought; you’ve taken biological selection by the throats and put it in service to ideas. Your offspring packs are your great experiments.”
“And two of them were the greatest Tinish monsters of all time.”
“True,” said Ravna. “But consider. Old Flenser changed the Northwest almost as much as you have—and he created and recreated Steel, and Steel designed and assembled and guided Amdiranifani.”
After a moment, Woodcarver replied, “Long ago, I imagined Vendacious as a weapon against Flenser. That weapon ran amok. It has killed so many. It probably killed the pack my members especially loved. And yet, however much I hate Vendacious, I can’t share everyone’s joy at his total death.”
Ravna nodded, trying unsuccessfully to imagine a reformed Vendacious. “So now, listen more to your members. Hope for what still may be.”
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Of course, their wagon trip up the Streamsdell Valley was nothing like Ravna’s days with Chitiratifor. This expedition had decent food and good tents to sleep in. Domain troops were spread out around them and scouting ahead. The travelers who suffered were the Children who were most desperate to come. Øvin refused to give up on Edvi. Elspa had more hope for her sister Geri, even though she had heard Tycoon’s terrible voice. Jefri said he was optimistic about Amdi, but he didn’t look optimistic. Giske Gisksndot didn’t talk about her feelings at all, but anger radiated from her. Right after Nevil’s big announcement, the Chief Denier had “generously” allowed her to speak with her husband. Giske knew that no hostages would come home with her, that Rolf was determined to keep their two sons. “Powers be damned, I just want to see them!” she had cried to Ravna, begging to be included in the expedition. In the end, Ravna couldn’t refuse her, but she worried what Giske might do when she finally confronted Rolf and Nevil.
The only traveler who seemed unconcerned was Ritl, though she complained as much as ever, especially when she was around Ravna. The singleton had not been given a choice about coming, but then she hadn’t been left in the Domain by her own choice either. Fate had bounced the animal from place to place, but within the limits of her intelligence, she seemed to be searching for something. Ravna hoped that Tycoon would be grateful for her return—or at least not hold that return against Ravna and company.
After five days on the road, their expedition came in sight of Nevil’s hanging valley. Benky’s troops set up a perimeter and the travelers made camp by the river. While everyone waited impatiently for some sign from above, Flenser-Tyrathect spread himself out on sun-warmed boulders by the river. Flenser had brought several telescopes. He idled away the time peering up at the lip of the hanging valley. He seemed to be enjoying himself. “I wager that Nevil won’t invite us into his caves. I remember when I was a co-conspirator.” His heads, except for the ones eyeballing the heights, all bobbed in a grin. “He never trusted me with the exact location, but it was clear that Vendacious and probably Tycoon knew about it. I predict that Tycoon will support ‘Best Hope’ just enough to be a problem.”
Ravna had come over to sit nearby, beside the member with the white-tipped low-sound ears. Even at its best, this crippled creature couldn’t have climbed the rocks, but the rest of Flenser still kept it close. Ravna stroked White Tips along the neck, almost as she would a dog. It always accepted such affection. That had been one of the things that had made her want to trust Flenser-Tyrathect. White Tips emitted a rumbling purr; all of Flenser might be less of a sarcastic twit for a few minutes now.
“So you think the prisoner release is going to be down here?” said Ravna. “I don’t see signs of anyone but us here.”
Jefri and others were walking toward them from the tents. Despite Jef’s ambiguous reputation—some of the loyalist Children thought he was Ravna’s secret agent and others were convinced he was a traitor—Jef had ended up being their chief human advisor on this outing. As long as he was clearly working from Ravna’s game plan, everyone seemed willing to accept his expertise. The camp wouldn’t have settled down so quickly and comfortably without Jefri and Benky.
Elspa was just a few feet behind Jef. She gestured to Flenser. “Still no sign of Deniers?”
“Nope, sorry.” Flenser waggled his telescopes authoritatively. Today he had better eyesight than anyone.
Elspa plunked down near Ravna. “I pray … I pray they have my Geri.”
Jefri came around to Ravna’s right so he was standing by White Tips. He muttered just loud enough for Ravna’s ears and the pack. “They better have Amdi. There’s no excuse for not returning him.”
Flenser’s voice came even more softly, barely more than a hum that Ravna felt where her fingertips touched White Tips. “And they better have Screwfloss.”
Their party sat by the river for a time, speculating, sometimes arguing. A meal broke up the discussion, but not the mood. Afterwards Jefri was gone for a time, checking with Benky that the soldiers and lookouts were in position. Ritl was occasionally visible, on some scouting mission of her own.
Ravna checked in with their hidden expedition participant: Scrup had parked his airboat on a mountain pass selected by Oobii. He was playing rela
y; ionospheric bounce was not good enough today. Ravna wanted reliable communication back to Woodcarver and Oobii. Scrupilo kibitzed on the link but wasn’t supposed to mess with the main data stream. “Amazing,” he said. “From this mountain top looking east, it’s like being the Pack of Packs. I see glaciers and mountains going on forever, like a stony sea. Pilgrim used to brag about this.”
“I still don’t have imagery, Scrupilo.” Ravna’s data tiara was giving her audio, but she had no windows from Oobii.
“Sorry,” said Scrupilo. “Maybe your tiara is finally busted? We’re getting good pictures from Wilm Linden’s camera.”
“Okay.” Audio plus Wilm’s camera should be enough for today. She talked past Scrupilo: “Ship! What are you seeing?”
Oobii replied, “My radar shows mostly clear sky, a few bird swarms. I can’t see all the way down into the valleys.”
“Yes,” interrupted Scrupilo. “Damn Nevil. If his idiots hadn’t crashed EA2, we might have our own look-down radar.” He ranted about Denier incompetence for some minutes; Scrupilo had his own geeky slant on what was wrong with Nevil.
The sun was well past noon when the packs farthest from the noise of the river sounded alarms. Their shouts were not quiet alerts. They were booming chords that announced, “Airship sounds! Airship sounds!”
Flenser was instantly scanning the ridgeline. “I don’t see anything.” He kept his scopes aimed at Nevil’s side valley, but there was a subtle change in the rest of him. He was listening with most of his attention. “I’m too close to the river. It’s not the best hearing … Yes! Airships, definitely.”
Now other packs began shouting. They were racing around, not looking anywhere in particular. Give me a clue, guys! thought Ravna. Where should I be looking?
Benky came racing down from the tree line, jabbing snouts at the southeastern sky.
Ravna followed the gestures. Nothing. And she still couldn’t hear a shred of engine sound … but now Oobii reported secondary radar echoes that might be aircraft following the curve of the Streamsdell Valley.