But ... what if that Straumer ship is really as important as Ravna thinks? After all this time it seems absurd,
mbt sport white, but she's convinced Vrinimi Org of the possibility. If there's something down there that could harm the Straumli Blight --" If the Blight ever suspected the same, it could have a fleet of ten thousand warships descending on their goal. Down at the Bottom they might be little better than conventional vessels, but he and Greenstalk would be no less dead for that. Except for a faint daydreamy hum, Greenstalk was silent. Had she had lost track of the conversation? Then her voice came to him through the water, a reassuring caress. "I know, Blueshell, it could be the end of us. But I still want to venture it. If it's safe, we make enormous profit. If our going could harm the Blight ... well, then it's terribly important. Our help might save dozens of civilizations -- a million beaches of Riders, just in passing." "Hmpf. You're following stalk and not skrode." "Probably." They had watched the progress of the Blight since its beginning. The feelings of horror and sympathy had been reinforced every day till they percolated into their natural minds. So Greenstalk (and Blueshell too; he couldn't deny it) felt stronger about the Blight than about the danger in their new contract. "Probably. My fears of making the rescue are still analytical," still confined to her skrode. "Yet ... I think if we could stand here a year, if we could wait till we truly felt all the issues ... I think we would still choose to go." Blueshell rolled irritably back and forth. The grit swirled up and through his fronds. She was right, she was right. But he couldn't say it aloud; the mission still terrified him. "And think,
shoe mbt, mate: If it is this important, then perhaps we can get help. You know the Org is negotiating with the Emissary Device. With any luck we'll end up with an escort designed by a Transcendental Power." The image almost made Blueshell laugh. Two little Skroderiders, journeying to the Bottom of the Beyond -- surrounded by help from the Transcend. "I will hope for it." The Skroderiders were not the only ones with that wish. Further up the beach, Ravna Bergsndot prowled her office. What gruesome irony that even the greatest disasters can create opportunities for decent people. Her transfer to Marketing had been made permanent with the fall of Arbitration Arts. As the Blight spread and High Beyond markets collapsed, the Org became ever more interested in providing information services about the Straumli Perversion. Her "special" expertise in things human suddenly became extraordinarily valuable -- never mind that Straumli Realm itself was only a small part of what was now the Blight. What little the Blight said of itself was often in Samnorsk. Grondr and company continued to be vitally interested in her analysis. Well,
复件 (64) air max, she had done some good. They had picked up the refugee ship's "I-am-here", and then -- ninety days later -- a message from a human survivor,
mbt in uk, Jefri Olsndot. Barely forty messages had they exchanged,
Mbt Maliza Brown, but enough to learn about the Tines and Mr. Steel and the evil Woodcarvers. Enough to know that a small human life would be ended if she could not help. Ironic but natural: most times that single life weighed more on her than all the horror of the Perversion, even the fall of Straumli Realm. Thank the Powers that Grondr had endorsed the rescue mission: It was a chance to learn something important about the Straumli Perversion. And the Tinish packs seemed to interest him, too; group minds were a fleeting thing in the Beyond. Grondr had kept the whole affair secret,
mbt imara black, and persuaded his bosses to support the mission.
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