A Fire Upon the Deep

After a moment, the other Rider — Greenstalk, was it? — spoke. "Besides, our commercial situation may not be a complete failure. I am sure the other thirds of the shipment went nowhere near Straumli Realm." That was the usual procedure anyway: each part of the shipment was carried by a different company, each taking a very different path. If the other thirds could be certified, the crew of the Out of Band might not come away empty-handed. "In — in fact, there may be a way we can get full certification. True, we were at Straumli Main, but — "

"How long ago did you leave?"

"Six hundred and fifty hours ago. About two hundred hours after they dropped off the Net."

It suddenly dawned on Ravna that she was talking to something like eyewitnesses. After thirty days, the Threats news was still dominated by the events at Straum. The consensus was that a Class Two perversion had been created — even Vrinimi Org believed that. Yet it was still mainly guesswork… And here she was talking to beings who had actually been there. "You don't think the Straumers created a perversion?"

It was Blueshell who replied. "Sigh," he said. "Our certificants deny it, but I see a problem of conscience here. We did witness strangeness on Straum… Have you ever encountered artificial immune systems? The ones that work in the Middle Beyond are more trouble than they're worth, so perhaps not. I noticed a real change in certain officers of the Crypto Authority right after the Straumli victory. It was as if they were suddenly part of a poorly calibrated automation, as if they were somebody's, um, fingers… No one can doubt they were playing in the Transcend. They found something up there; a lost archive. But that is not the point." He stopped talking for a long moment; Ravna almost thought he was finished. "You see, just before leaving Straumli Main, we — "

But now Pham Nuwen was talking too. "That's something I've been wondering about. Everybody talks as though this Straumli Realm was doomed the moment they began research in the Transcend. Look. I've played with bugged software and strange weapons. I know you can get killed that way. But it looks like the Straumers were careful to put their lab far away. They were building something that could go very wrong, but apparently it was a previously-tried experiment — like just about everything Up Here. They could stop the work any time it deviated from the records, right up to the end. So how could they screw up so bad?"

The question stopped the Skroderider in its tracks. You didn't need a doctorate in Applied Theology to know the answer. Even the damn Straumers should have known the answer. But given Pham Nuwen's background, it was a reasonable question. Ravna kept her mouth shut. The Skroderider's very alienness might be more convincing to Pham than another lecture from her.

Blueshell dithered for a moment, no doubt using his skrode to help assemble his arguments. When he finally spoke, he didn't seem irritated by the interruption. "I hear several misconceptions, My Lady Pham." He seemed to use the old Nyjoran honorific pretty indiscriminately. "Have you been into the archive at Relay?"

Pham said yes. Ravna guessed he'd never been past the beginners' front end.

"Then you know that an archive is a fundamentally vaster thing than the database on a conventional local net. For practical purposes the big ones can't even be duplicated. The major archives go back millions of years, have been maintained by hundreds of different races — most now extinct or Transcended into Powers. Even the archive at Relay is a jumble, so huge that indexing systems are laid on top of indexing systems. Only in the Transcend could such a mass be well organized and even then only the Powers could understand it."

"So?"

"There are thousands of archives in the Beyond — tens of thousands if you count the ones that have fallen into disrepair or dropped off the Net. Along with unending trivia, they contain important secrets and important lies. There are traps and snares." Millions of races played with the advice that filtered unsolicited across the Net. Tens of thousands had been burned thereby. Sometimes the damage was relatively minor, good inventions that weren't quite right for the target environment. Sometimes it was malicious, viruses that would jam a local net so thoroughly that a civilization must restart from scratch. Where-Are-They-Now and Threats carried stories of worse tragedies: planets kneedeep in replicant goo, races turned brainless by badly programmed immune systems.

Pham Nuwen was wearing his skeptical expression. "Just test the stuff at a safe remove. Be prepared for local disasters."