A Fire Upon the Deep

"Ravna, the rumors in the Threats newsgroup are true. The Straumers had a laboratory in the Low Transcend. They were playing with recipes from some lost archive, and they created a new Power. It appears to be a Class Two perversion."

The Known Net recorded a Class Two perversion about once a century. Such Powers had a normal "lifespan" — about ten years. But they were explicitly malevolent, and in ten years could do enormous damage. Poor Straum.

"So you can see there's enormous potential for profit or loss here. If the disaster spreads, we will lose network customers. On the other hand, everyone around Straumli Realm wants to track what is happening. This could increase our message traffic by several percent."

Grondr put it more cold-bloodedly than she liked, but he had a point. In fact, the opportunity for profit was directly linked with mitigating the perversion. If she hadn't been so wrapped up in archive work, she'd have guessed all this. And now that she did think about it: "There are even more spectacular opportunities. Historically, these perversions have been of interest to other Powers. They'll want Net feeds and… information about the creating race." Her voice guttered into silence as she finally understood the reason for this meeting.

Grondr's mouth parts clicked agreement. "Indeed. We at Relay are well-placed to supply news to the Transcend. And we also have our own human. In the last three days we've received several dozen queries from civilizations in the High Beyond, some claiming to represent Powers. This interest could mean a large increase in Organization income through the next decade.

"All this you could read in the Threats news group. But there is another item, something I ask you to keep secret for now: Five days ago, a ship from the Transcend entered our region. It claims to be directly controlled by a Power." The wall behind him became a window upon the visitor. The craft was an irregular collection of spines and limps. A scale bar claimed the thing was only five meters across.

Ravna felt the hair on her neck prickling. Here in the Middle Beyond they should be relatively safe from the caprice of the Powers. Still… the visit was an unnerving thing. "What does it want?"

"Information about the Straumli perversion. In particular, it is very interested in your race. It would give a great deal to take back a living human…"

Ravna's response was abrupt. "I'm not interested."

Grondr spread his pale hands. The light glittered from the chitin on the back of his fingers. "It would be an enormous opportunity. A 'prenticeship with the gods. This one has promised to establish an oracle here in return."

"No!" Ravna half rose from her chair. She was one human, more than twenty thousand light-years from home. That had been a frightening thing in the first days of her 'prenticeship. Since then she had made friends, had learned more of Organization ethics, had come to trust these folk almost as much as people at Sjandra Kei. But… there was only one halfway trustable oracle on the Net these days, and it was almost ten years old. This Power was tempting Vrinimi Org with fabulous treasure.

Grondr clicked embarrassment. He waved her back to her chair. "It was only a suggestion. We do not abuse our employees. If you will simply serve as our local expert…"

Ravna nodded.

"Good. Frankly, I had not expected you to accept the offer. We have a much more likely volunteer, but one who needs coaching."

"A human? Here?" Ravna had a standing query in the local directory for other humans. During the last two years she had seen three, and they had just been passing through. "How long has she — he? — been here?"

Grondr said something halfway between a smile and a laugh. "A bit more than a century, though we didn't realize it until a few days ago." The pictures around him shifted. Ravna recognized Relay's "attic," the junkyard of abandoned ships and freight devices that floated just a thousand light-seconds from the archives. "We receive a lot of one-way freight, items shipped in the hope we'll buy or sell on consignment." The view closed on a decrepit vessel, perhaps two hundred meters long, wasp-waisted to support a ramscoop drive. Its ultradrive spines were scarcely more than stubs.

"A bottom-lugger?" said Ravna.

Grondr clicked negation. "A dredge. The ship is about thirty thousand years old. Most of that time was spent in a deep penetration of the Slow Zone, plus ten thousand years in the Unthinking Depths."

Up close now, she could see the hull was finely pitted, the result of millennia of relativistic erosion. Even unpiloted, such expeditions were rare: a deep penetration could not return to the Beyond within the lifetime of its builders. Some would not return within the lifetime of the builders' race. People who launched such missions were just a little weird; People who recovered them could make a solid profit.