"But now there is scarcely anyone left out there," said Greenstalk. "I hope they're not all dead."
"Not all. I see several thousand ships departing, everyone with the means and any sense." Blueshell rolled back and forth. "Alas! We have the good sense… but look at this repair report." One window spread large, filled with colored patterns that meant less than zip to Ravna. "Two spines still broken, unrepairable. Three partially repaired. If they don't heal, we'll be stuck here. This is unacceptable!" His voder voice buzzed up shrilly. Greenstalk drove close to him, and they rattled their fronds at each other.
Several minutes passed. When Blueshell spoke Samnorsk again, his voice was quieter. "One spine repaired. Maybe, maybe, maybe…" He opened a natural view. The OOB was coasting across Groundside's south pole, back into night. Their orbit should take them over the worst of the Docks junk, but the ride was a constant jigging as the ship avoided other debris. The cries of battle horror from out-system dwindled. The Vrinimi Organization was one vast, twitching corpse… and very soon its killer would come snuffling.
"Two repaired." Blueshell became very quiet… "Three! Three are repaired! Fifteen seconds to recalibrate and we can jump!"
It seemed longer… but then all the windows changed to a natural view. Groundside and its sun were gone. Stars and dark stretched all around.
Three hours later and Relay was a hundred and fifty light-years behind them. The OOB had caught up with the main body of fleeing ships. What with the archives and the tourism, there had been an extraordinary number of interstellar ships at Relay: ten thousand vehicles were spread across the light-years around them. But stars were rare this far off the galactic plane and they were at least a hundred hours flying time from the nearest refuge.
For Ravna, it was the start of a new battle. She glared across the deck at Blueshell. The Skroderider dithered, its fronds twisting on themselves in a way she had not seen before. "See here, my lady Bergsndot, High Point is a lovely civilization, with some bipedal participants. It is safe. It is nearby. You could adapt." He paused. Reading my expression is he? "But -but if that is not acceptable, we will take you further. Give us a chance to contract the proper cargo, and — and we'll take you all the way back to Sjandra Kei. How about that?"
"No. You already have a contract, Blueshell. With Vrinimi Organization. The three of us — " and whatever has become of Pham Nuwen "— are going to the Bottom of the Beyond."
"I am shaking my head in disbelief! We received a preliminary retainer, true. But now that Vrinimi Org is dead, there is no one to make good on the rest of the agreement. Hence we are free of it also."
"Vrinimi is not dead. You heard Grondr 'Kalir. The Org had — has -branch offices all across the Beyond. The obligation stands."
"On a technicality. We both know that those branches could never make the final payment."
Ravna didn't have a good answer to that. "You have an obligation," she said, but without the proper forcefulness. She had never been good at bluster.
"My lady, are you truly speaking from Org ethics, or from simple humanity?"
"I— " In fact, Ravna had never completely understood Org ethics. That was one reason why she had intended to return to Sjandra Kei after her 'prenticeship, and one reason the Org had dealt cautiously with the human race. "It doesn't matter which I speak from! There is a contract. You were happy to honor it when things looked safe. Well, things turned deadly — but that possibility was part of the deal." Ravna glanced at Greenstalk. She had been silent so far, not even rustling at her mate. Her fronds were tightly held against her central stalk. Maybe — "Listen, there are other reasons besides contract obligation. The Perversion is more powerful than anyone thought. It killed a Power today. And it's operating in the Middle Beyond… The Riders have a long history, Blueshell, longer than most races' entire existence. The Perversion may be strong enough to put an end to all of that."
Greenstalk rolled toward her and opened slightly. "You — you really think we might find something on that ship at the Bottom, something that could harm a Power among Powers?"
Ravna paused. "Yes. And Old One himself thought so, just before he died."
Blueshell wrapped even tighter around himself, twisting. In anguish? "My Lady, we are traders. We have lived long and traveled far… and survived by minding our own business. No matter what romantics may think, traders do not go on quests. What you ask… is impossible, mere Beyonders seeking to subvert a Power."
