Org[18]: We will help. We are coming as fast as we can, Jefri.

Target[19]: Sorry I couldn't talk yesterday. The bad people were on the hill again yesterday. It wasn't safe to go to the ship.

Org[19]: Are the bad ones that close by?

Target[20]: Yes yes. I could see them from the island. I'm with Amdi on shipboard now, but walking up here there were dead soldiers all around. Woodcarver raids here often.

Mother is dead. Father is dead. Johanna is dead. Mister Steel will protect me as much as he can. He says that I must be brave.

For a moment, his smile was gone. "Poor kid," he said softly. Then he shrugged and jabbed his hand at one of the messages. "Well, I'm glad Vrinimi is sending a rescue mission. That is generous of you."

"Not really, sir. Look at items six through fourteen. The boy is complaining about the ship's automation."

"Yeah, he makes it sound like something out of a dawn age: keyboards and video, no voice recognition. A completely unfriendly interface. Looks like the crash scragged almost everything, eh?"

He was being deliberately obtuse, but Ravna resolved to be infinitely patient. "Perhaps not, considering the vessel's origin." Pham just smiled, so Ravna continued to spell things out. "The processors are likely High Beyond or Transcendent, snuffed down to near brainlessness by the current environment."

Pham Nuwen sighed. "All consistent with the Skroderiders' theory, right? You're still hoping this crate is carrying some tremendous secret that will blow the Blight away."

"Yes!… Look. At one time, the Old One was very curious about all this. Why the total disinterest now? Is there some reason why the ship can't be the key to fighting the Perversion?" That was Grondr's explanation for the Old One's recent lack of interest. All her life Ravna Bergsndot had heard tales of the Powers, and always from a great remove. Here, she was awfully close to questioning one directly. It was a very strange feeling.

After a moment Pham said, "No. It's unlikely, but you could be right."

Ravna let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Good. Then what we're asking is reasonable. Suppose the downed ship contains something the Perversion needs, or something it fears. Then it's likely the Perversion knows of its existence — and may even be monitoring ultradrive traffic in that part of the Bottom. A rescue expedition could lead the Perversion right to it. In that case, the mission will be suicide for its crew — and could increase the Blight's overall power."

"So?"

Ravna slapped her dataset, resolutions of patience dissolving. "So, Vrinimi Org is asking Old One's help to build an expedition the Blight can't knock over!"

Pham Nuwen just shook his head. "Ravna, Ravna. You're talking about an expedition to the Bottom of the Beyond. There's no way a Power can hold your hand down there. Even an Emissary Device would be mostly on its own there."

"Don't act like more of a jerk than you are, Pham Nuwen. Down there, the Perversion will be at just as much a disadvantage. What we're asking for is equipment of Transcendent manufacture, designed for those depths, and provided in substantial quantities."

"Jerk?" Pham Nuwen drew himself up, but there was still the ghost of smile on his face. "Is that how you normally address a Power?"

Before this year, I would have died rather than address a Power in any manner. She leaned back, giving him her own version of an indolent smile. "You have a pipeline to god, Mister, but let me tell you a little secret: I can tell whether it's open or closed."

Polite curiosity: "Oh? How is that?"

"Pham Nuwen — left on his own — is a bright, egotistical guy, and about as subtle as a kick in the head." She thought back to their time together. "I don't really start worrying until the arrogance and smart remarks go away."

"Um. Your logic is a little weak. If the Old One were running me direct, he could just as easily play a jerk as," he cocked his head, "as the man of your dreams."

Ravna gritted her teeth. "That's true, but I've got a little help from my boss. He's cleared me to monitor transceiver usage." She looked at her dataset. "Right now, your Old One is getting less than ten kilobits per second from all of Relay… which means, my friend, that you are not being tele-operated. Any crass behavior I see today is the true Pham Nuwen."

The redhead chuckled, faint embarrassment evident. "You got me. I'm on detached duty, have been ever since the Org persuaded Old One to back off. But I want you to know that all those ten Kbps are dedicated to this charming conversation." He paused as if listening, then waved his hand. "Old One says 'hi'."

Ravna laughed despite herself; there was something absurd about the gesture, and the notion that a Power would indulge such trivial humor. "Okay. I'm glad he can, um, sit in. Look, Pham, we're not asking for much by Transcendent standards, and it could save whole civilizations. Give us a few thousand ships; robot oneshots would be fine."

"Old One could make that many, but they wouldn't be much better that what's built down here. Tricking — " he paused, looking surprised by his own choice of words, "tricking the Zones is subtle work."

"Fine. Quality or quantity. We'll settle for whichever the Old One thinks — "

"No."

"Pham! We're talking about a few days work for the Old One. It's already paid more to study the Blight." Their single wild evening might have cost as much — but she didn't say that.

"Yes, and Vrinimi has spent most of it."

"Paying off the customers you stepped on!… Pham, can't you at least tell us why?"

The lazy smile faded from his face. She took a quick glance at her dataset. No, Pham Nuwen was not possessed. She remembered the look on his face when he read the mail from Jefri Olsndot; there was a decent human being lurking behind all the arrogance. "I'll give it a try. Keep in mind -even though I've been part of Old One — I'm remembering and explaining with human limitations.

"You're right, the Perversion is chewing up the Top of the Beyond. Maybe fifty civilizations will die before this Power gets tired of screwing around — and for a couple of thousand years after that there'll be 'echoes' of the disaster, poisoned star systems, artificial races with bloody-minded ideas. But — I hate to say it this way — so what? Old One has been thinking about this problem, off and on, for more than a hundred days. That's a long time for a Power, especially Old One. He's existed for more than ten years now; his minds are drifting fast toward… changes… that will put him beyond all communication. Why should he give a damn about this?"

It was a standard topic in school, but Ravna couldn't help herself. This time it was for real. "But history is full of incidents where Powers helped Beyonder races, sometimes even individuals." She had already looked up the Beyonder race that created Old One. They were gasbag creatures. Their netmail was mostly jabberwocky even after Relay's best interpretation. Apparently they had no special leverage with Old One. The direct appeal was about all she had. "Look. Turn the thing around: Even ordinary humans don't need special explanation to help animals that are hurting."

Pham's smile was beginning to come back. "You're so big on analogies. Remember that no analogy is perfect, and the more complex the automation the more complex the possible motivations. But… okay, how about this for an analogy: Old One is a basically decent guy, with a nice home in a good part of town. One day he notices he has a new neighbor, a scruffy fellow whose homestead is awhiff with toxic sludge. If you were Old One, you'd be concerned, right? You might probe around beneath your properties. You'd also chat with the new fellow and check on where he came from, try to figure out what's going on. The Vrinimi Org saw part of that investigation.