to know more. We need
to take  a few risks." She stopped  her  pacing; all her  eyes turned toward
Peregrine in a gesture of surprise. Abruptly she laughed.
     "What?"
     "Something we've thought before, dear Peregrine, but now I see how true
it may  be.  You're  being a  little  bit  clever and scheming here. A  good
statesman and planner for the future."
     "But still for a pilgrimly goal."
     "To  be  sure.... And  I, now I  don't  care  so  completely  about the
planning  and the  safety.  We will visit  the  stars someday." Her  puppies
waggled a joyous salute. "I've a little of the pilgrim in me now, too."
     She went down all on her bellies and crept across the floor toward him.
Consciousness  slowly dissolved  into a haze of  loving lust. The last thing
Peregrine remembered her saying was, "How wonderful  the  luck:  that  I had
grown old and had to be new, and that you were just the change we need."
     Peregrine's attention drifted back to the present, and Ravna. The human
was  still grinning at  him. She reached a hand  across to  brush one of his
heads. "Medieval minds indeed."
     They  sat in the fern shade for another couple of hours and watched the
tide  come in. The sun fell through midafternoon -- even then it was as high
in  the sky as any noontime  sun could be at Woodcarver's. In some ways, the
quality of the light and the  motion of the sun  were the  strangest  things
about the scene. The sun was  so high, and came  down so straight, with none
of  the long  sliding  glide  of afternoon  in  the  arctic.  He  had almost
forgotten what it was like in the land of Short Twilight.
     Now the surf was thirty yards inland of where  they had put  the Rider.
The  crescent moon  was  following  the  sun  toward the horizon;  the water
wouldn't rise any further. Ravna stood, shaded her eyes against the lowering
sun. "Time for us to go, I think."
     "You think she'll be safe?"
     Ravna  nodded.  "This was  long  enough for Greenstalk  to  notice  any
poisons, and most predators. Besides, she's armed."
     Human  and Tines picked their  way to the crest of the atoll,  past the
tallest of the  ferns. Peregrine kept a pair of eyes on the sea behind them.
The surf was well past  Greenstalk now. Her location was still swept by deep
waves, but it was beyond the spume and spray. His last sight  of  her was in
the trough  behind a  crasher: the smoothness  of  the sea was broken for an
instant by two of her tallest fronds, the tips gently swaying.
     Summer took  gentle leave of  the land around Hidden  Island. There was
some rain, and no  more brush fires. There would even be  a harvest, war and
drought  notwithstanding.  Each dayaround  the  sun hid  deeper  behind  the
northern  hills, a time  of twilight that broadened with the weeks till true
night held at midnight. And there were stars.
     It was something  of an accident that  so many things  came together on
the last night of summer. Ravna took the kids out skygazing on the fields by
Starship Castle.
     No urban  haze  here, nor even near-space industry.  Nothing to fog the
view of  heaven except a subtle  pinkness in  the north that might have been
vagrant twilight -- or aurora. The four  of them settled on the  frosty moss
and looked  around. Ravna took a deep breath. There was no hint of ash  left
in the air, just a clean chill, a promise of winter.
     "The  snow  will  be  deep  as  your  shoulders,  Ravna,"  said  Jefri,
enthusiastic about the  possibility. "You'll love it." The  pale blotch that
was his face seemed to be looking back and forth across the sky.
     "It can be bad," said Johanna Olsndot. She hadn't objected to coming up
here tonight,  but  Ravna  knew that  she would rather  have  stayed down on
Hidden Island to worry about the doings of tomorrow.
     Jefri picked up on her unease --  no, that  was Amdi talking  now; they
would never  cure those two of pretending  to be  each  other. "Don't worry,
Johanna. We'll help you."
     For a moment no one  said anything. Ravna looked down the hill. It  was
too dark to see the six hundred meter drop,  too dark to see where fjord and
islands lay  below. But  the  torchlight on  the  ramparts of Hidden  Island
marked  its  location.  Down  there  in Steel's  old  inner  court --  where
Woodcarver  now ruled -- were all the  working coldboxes  from the ship. One
hundred and fifty-one  children slept  there,  the  last  survivors  of  the
Straumer's flight. Johanna claimed  that  most  could be revived, with  best
chance of success if it were  done soon. The  Queen  had  been  enthusiastic
about the idea. Large sections of the castle had been set aside, refurbished
for  human needs.  Hidden Island  was well  sheltered -- if not  from winter
snow,  at least from the worst winds. If they could be revived, the children
would have no trouble living there. Ravna had come to love Jefri and Johanna
and  Amdi  --  But  could she handle one  hundred and fifty more? Woodcarver
seemed to have no misgivings.  She had plans for a school  where Tines would
learn  of humans and  the children would  learn of  this  world.... Watching
Jefri and Amdi, Ravna was beginning to  see what might become of this. Those
two were closer  than  any children she  had ever known,  and  in  sum  more
competent.  And  that  was  not  just the puppies'  math  genius; they  were
competent in other ways.
     Humans  and  Packs fit,  and Old Woodcarver was  clever enough  to take
advantage of  it. Ravna liked the Queen, and liked Pilgrim even more, but in
the end  the Packs  would  be  the  great beneficiaries.  Woodcarver clearly
understood  the disabilities of her pack race.  Tinish  records went back at
least  ten  thousand  years. For all  their  recorded history they  had been
trapped in  cultures not  much  less  advanced than now.  A  race  of  sharp
intelligence,  yet they had a  single overwhelming disadvantage:  they could
not  cooperate  at close  range  without  losing  that  intelligence.  Their
civilizations were made of isolated minds, forced introverts who could never
progress beyond certain limits.  The eagerness  of Pilgrim and  Scrupilo and
the others  for  human contact was evidence of this. In the long run, we can
move the Tines out of this cul de sac.
     Amdi and Jefri were giggling about something, the Pack  sending runners
out  almost to the limit of consciousness. These last  weeks, Ravna had come
to  learn that pell-mell activity was the  norm for  Amdi, that  his initial
slowness had  been part of his hurt  over Steel.  How ... perverse  (or  how
wonderful?) ... that a monster like Steel could be the object of such love.
     Jefri  shouted,  "You watch  in  all directions, let me know  where  to
look." Silence. Then Jefri's voice again: "There!"
     "What are you doing?" Johanna asked with sisterly belligerence.
     "Watching for  meteors," one  of the  two said.  "Yes,  I watch in  all
directions and jab Jefri -- there! -- where to look when one comes by."
     Ravna didn't see  anything, but the boy had twisted around abruptly  at
his friend's signal.
     "Neat, neat," came Jefri's voice. "That was about forty kilometers  up,
speed -- " the two's voice murmured  unintelligibly for a  second. Even with
the pack's wide vision, how could they know how high it was?
     Ravna sat back in the hollow formed by the hummocky moss. It was a good
parka the locals had made  for her; she barely felt the chill in the ground.
Overhead, the  stars. Time to think,  get some peace before all  the  things
that would begin  tomorrow. Den Mother to one hundred and fifty kids ... and
I thought I was a librarian.
     Back home she had loved  the night sky; at one glance she could see the
other stars  of  Sjandra Kei, sometimes the other  worlds. The places of her
home had been in her  sky. For  a  moment the evening chill seemed part of a
winter  that would  never go away. Lynne and her folks and Sjandra  Kei. Her
whole  life till  three years ago. It was all  gone now. Don't  think on it.
Somewhere out there was what was left of Aniara fleet, and what was left  of
her people. Kjet  Svensndot. Tirolle and Glimfrelle. She had only known them
for  a few hours, but they were  of Sjandra  Kei  -- and they had saved more
than they would ever  know. They  would still live. SjK Commercial  Security
had  some ramscoops  in its fleet. They could  find  a world, not  here, but
nearer the battle site.
     Ravna tilted her head back, wondering at the sky. Where? Maybe not even
above the horizon now.  From here the galactic disk was a  glow that climbed
across the sky almost at right angles to the ecliptic. There was no sense of
its true shape or their exact  position in  it; the greater picture was lost
to  nearby  splendors,  the  bright  knots of  open clusters,  frozen jewels
against the fainter light. But down near the southern horizon, far  from the
galactic  way,  there were  two splotchy clouds  of light. The  Magellanics!
Suddenly the  geometry  clicked, and  the universe above  was not completely
unknown. Aniara fleet would be --
     "I -- I wonder if we can see  Straumli Realm from here,"  said Johanna.
For more than a year now she had had to play the adult. Come tomorrow,  that
role would be forever. But her voice just now was wistful, childlike.
     Ravna opened her mouth, about to say how unlikely that must be.
     "Maybe we can,  maybe we can." It was  Amdi. The pack had pulled itself
together, snuggled companionably among  the humans. The warmth was  welcome.
"See, I've been reading Dataset about where things are, and trying to figure
how it matches  what  we see." A pair of noses were silhouetted  against the
sky  for instant, like a human waving his hands exuberantly at  the heavens.
"The brightest things we see are just kind of local dazzle. They aren't good
guide posts."  He pointed at a couple of open clusters, claimed they matched
stuff  he'd  found  in  the  Dataset. Amdi had  also noticed the  Magellanic
galaxies, and figured out far  more than Ravna.  "So anyway, Straumli  Realm
was" -- was!  you  got it kid -- "in the High Beyond, but  near the galactic
disk.  So,  see that  big square of stars?" Noses  jabbed. "We call that the
Great  Square. Anyway,  just left of  the upper corner and  go  six thousand
light-years, and you'd be at Straumli Realm."
     Jefri came  to his knees and stared  silently for a second. "But so far
away, is there anything to see?"
     "Not the Straumli stars, but just forty light-years from Straum there's
a blue-white giant -- "
     "Yeah,"  whispered Johanna. "Storlys. It was so  bright you  could  see
shadows at night."
     "Well that's the  fourth  brightest star up from the corner; see,  they
almost make a straight line. I can see it, so I know you can."
     Johanna and Jefri were silent for  a long time, just staring up at that
patch of  sky.  Ravna's lips compressed in anger. These were good kids; they
had been through  hell. And  their parents  had fought to prevent that hell;
they had escaped the Blight with the means of its destruction.  But  ... how
many million races  had  lived in the Beyond, had  probed the Transcend  and
made bargains with devils? How many more had destroyed themselves There? Ah,
but that had not  been  enough for Straumli  Realm. They had  gone into  the
Transcend and wakened Something that could take over a galaxy.
     "Do  you think anybody's  left there?" said  Jefri. "Do you think we're
all that's left?"
     His sister put an arm around him. "Maybe, maybe not Straumli Realm. But
the rest of the universe --  look, it's still there." Weak laughter.  "Daddy
and Mom,  Ravna and Pham. They stopped the Blight." She waved a hand against
the sky. "They saved most all of it."
     "Yes,"  said Ravna. "We're saved and safe, Jefri. To begin  again." And
as  far as it went,  that comfort  was probably true. The ship's zone probes
were still  working.  Of  course, a single  measure point  is  of no use for
precise zonography, but she could tell that they were deep in the new volume
of the Slowness,  the  volume created by Pham's Revenge.  And  --  much more
significant -- the  OOB detected  no  variation in zonal intensity. Gone was
the  continuous  trembling of the months  before. This  new  status had  the
feeling of mountain roots, to be moved only by the passage of the ages.
     Fifty  degrees along the galactic river was another unremarkable  space
of sky. She didn't point it out to the kids,  but what was of interest there
was  much nearer, just  under thirty light-years out:  the  Blighter  Fleet.
Flies trapped in amber. At normal jump rates for the  Low Beyond,  they  had
been just hours away when Pham created the Great Surge. And now ...? If they
had been bottom  luggers, ships with ramscoops, they could  close the gap in
less than fifty years. But  Aniara  Fleet had made their sacrifice; they had
followed Pham's godshattered advice. And  though they didn't  know it,  they
had broken the Blight. There wasn't a single Slow Zone capable vessel in the
approaching  fleet.  Perhaps  they  had  some in-system  capability -- a few
thousand  klicks  per  second.  But  no  more,  not  Down  Here,  where  new
construction  was  not  a  matter  of  waving  a  magic  wand.  The Blight's
extermination force would sweep past  Tines  World  in  ... a  few  thousand
years. Time enough.
     Ravna  leaned  back  against  one  of  Amdi's  shoulders.  He   nestled
comfortably  around her neck. The puppies had  grown  these last two months;
apparently Steel had kept them on some sort of stunting drugs. Her gaze lost
itself in the dark and glow: far upon far that were all the Zones above her.
And where are the boundaries now? How awesome was  Pham's Revenge. Maybe she
should call  it Old One's Revenge. No, it was far more  even than that. "Old
One" was just a recent  victim of the Blight. Even Old  One was no more than
midwife to  this revenge. The first  cause must be as  old as  the  original
Blight and more powerful than the Powers.
     But whatever caused it, the Surge had done more than revenge. Ravna had
studied the  ship's  measurement  of  zone intensity. It  could only  be  an
estimate, but she  knew they  were trapped between one  thousand and  thirty
thousand light-years deep in the new Slowness. Powers only knew  how far the
Surge  had pushed the Slowness.... And maybe even some  of the  Powers  were
destroyed by it.  This was like  some vision of planetary armageddon --  the
type of thing that primitive civilizations nightmared  about -- but blown up
to a galactic scale. A huge hunk of the Milky Way galaxy had been gobbled up
by the Slowness, all in a single afternoon. Not just the Blighter Fleet were
flies  trapped  in amber. Why, the whole vault  of  heaven --  excepting the
Magellanics faint and far away -- might now be a tomb of Slowness. Many must
still  be  alive out there,  but  how many millions  of starships  had  been
trapped between the stars?  How many  automated  systems had failed, killing
the civilizations  that depended  on them?  Heaven was truly silent now.  In
some ways the Revenge was a worse thing than the Blight itself.
     And what of  the Blight  -- not the  fleet that chased the OOB, but the
Blight  itself? That was a creature of the Top and the  Transcend. At a very
far  remove,  it  covered much  of the sky they could see this  night. Could
Pham's revenge have  really  toppled it?  If  there was  a point  to all the
sacrifice,  then surely so. A surge so great that it pushed the  Slowness up
thousands of light-years,  through the Low  and Mid  Beyond, past the  great
civilizations at the Top  ... and into  the  Transcend.  No wonder it was so
eager to stop us. A Power immersed in the Slowness would be a Power no more,
would likely  be a living thing no more. If, if,  if. If  Pham's Surge could
climb so high.
     And that is something I will never know.
     Crypto: 0
     As received by:
     Language path: Optima
     From: Society for Rational Investigation
     Subject: Ping
     Key phrases: Help me!
     Summary: Has there been a network partition, or what?
     Distribution:
 Threat of the Blight, Society for Rational Network Management, War Trackers Interest Group
     Date: 0.412 Msec since loss of contacts
     Text of message:
     I  have still not recovered  contact with any network site known to  be
spinward of me. Apparently, I am right at the edge of a catastrophe.
     If you receive this ping, please respond! Am I in danger?
     For  your  information,  I have  no  trouble  reaching  sites that  are
antispinward. I understand an effort is being made  to hop messages the long
way around the galaxy. At least that would  give us an idea how big the loss
is. Nothing has come back as yet -- not surprising, I guess, considering the
great number of hops and the expense.
     In  the meantime,  I am sending out pings such  as this. I am expending
enormous resources to do  this, let me tell you -- but it is that important.
I've beamed direct at all the hub sites that are in range to the spinward of
me. No replies.
     More ominous: I have tried to transmit "over the top", that is by using
known sites in the Transcend that are above the catastrophe. Most such would
not normally respond, Powers being what they are. But I received no replies.
A  silence like the Depths is  there.  It  appears  that  a portion  of  the
Transcend itself has been engulfed.
     Again: If you receive this message, please respond!
        THE END