Looking back, Ravna Bergsndot saw it was inevitable that she become a librarian. As a child on Sjandra Kei, she had been in love with stories from the Age of Princesses. There was adventure, a time when a few brave Ladies had dragged humankind to greatness. She and her sister had spent countless afternoons pretending to be the Greater Two and rescuing the Countess of the Lake. Later they understood that Nyjora and its Princesses were lost in the dim past. Sister Lynne turned to more practical things. But Ravna still wanted adventure. Through her teens, she had dreamed of emigrating to Straumli Realm. That was something very real. Imagine: a new and mostly human colony, right at the Top of the Beyond. And Straum welcomed folk from the mother world; their enterprise was less than one hundred years old. They or their children would be the first humans anywhere in the galaxy to transcend their own humanity. She might end up a god, and richer than a million Beyonder worlds. It was a dream real enough to provoke constant arguments with her parents. For where there is heaven, there can also be hell. Straumli Realm kissed close to the Transcend, and the people there played with "the tigers that pace beyond the bars." Dad had actually used that tired image. The disagreement drove them apart for several years. Then, in her Computer Science and Applied Theology courses, Ravna began to read about some of the old horrors. Maybe, maybe… she should be a little more cautious. Better to look around first. And there was a way to see into everything that humans in the Beyond could possibly understand: Ravna became a librarian. "The ultimate dilettante!" Lynne had teased. "It's true and so what?" Ravna had grumped back, but the dream of far traveling was not quite dead in her.
Life in Herte University at Sjandra Kei should have been perfect for someone who had finally figured out what they wanted from life. Things might have gone on happily for a lifetime there — except that in her graduation year, there had been the Vrinimi Organization's Faraway 'Prentice contest. Three years work-study at the archive by Relay was the prize. Winning was the chance of a lifetime; she would come back with more experience than any local academician.
So it was that Ravna Bergsndot ended up more than twenty thousand light-years from home, at the network hub of a million worlds.
Sunset was an hour past when Ravna drifted across Citypark toward Grondr Vrinimikalir's residence. She'd been on the planet only a handful of times since arriving in the Relay system. Most of her work was at the archives themselves — a thousand light-hours out. This part of Groundside was in early autumn, though twilight had faded the tree colors to bands of gray. From Ravna's altitude, one hundred meters up, the air had the nip of frosts to come. Between her feet she could see picnic fires and gaming fields. The Vrinimi Organization didn't spend much on the planet, but the world was beautiful. As long as she kept her eyes on the darkening ground, Ravna could almost imagine this was someplace in her home terrane on Sjandra Kei. Look into the sky though… and you knew you were far from home: twenty-thousand light-years away, the galactic whirlpool sprawled up toward the zenith.
It was just a faint thing in the twilight, and it might not get much brighter this night: Low in the western sky, a cluster of in-system factories glowed brighter than any moon. The operation was a brilliant flickering of stars and rays, sometimes so intense that stark shadows were cast eastwards from the Citypark mountains. In another half hour, the Docks would rise. The Docks weren't as bright as the factories, but together they would outshine anything from the far stars.
She shifted in her agrav harness, drifting lower. The scent of autumn and picnics came stronger. Suddenly, the click of Kalir laughter was all around her; she had blundered into an airball game. Ravna spread her arms in mock humiliation and dodged out of the players' way.
Her stroll through the park was just about over; she could see her destination ahead. Grondr 'Kalir's residence was a rarity in the Citypark landscape: a recognizable building. It dated from when the Org bought into the Relay operation. Seen from just eighty meters up, the house was a blocky silhouette against the sky. When factory lights flashed, the smooth walls of the monolith glowed in oily tints. Grondr was her boss's boss's boss. She had talked to him exactly three times in two years.
No more delay. Nervous and very curious, Ravna floated lower and let the house electronics guide her across the tree decks toward an entrance.
Grondr Vrinimikalir treated her with standard Organization courtesy, the common denominator that served between the several races of the Org: The meeting room had furniture suitable for human and Vrinimi use. There were refreshments, and questions about her job at the archive.
"Mixed results, sir," Ravna replied honestly. "I've learned a great deal. The 'prenticeship is everything it's claimed to be. But I'm afraid the new division is going to require an added index layer." All this was in reports the old fellow could have seen at the flick of a digit.
Grondr rubbed a hand absently across his eye freckles. "Yes, an expected disappointment. We're at the limits of information management with this expansion. Egravan and Derche — " those were Ravna's boss and boss's boss "— are quite happy with your progress. You came well educated, and learned fast. I think there's a place for humans in the Organization."
"Thank you, sir." Ravna blushed. Grondr's assessment was casually spoken but very important to her. And it would probably mean the arrival of more humans, perhaps even before her 'prenticeship was up. So was this the reason for the interview?
She tried not to stare at the other. She was quite used to the Vrinimi majority race by now. From a distance the Kalir looked humanoid. Up close, the differences were substantial. The race was descended from something like an insect. In upsizing, evolution had necessarily moved reinforcing struts inside the body, till the outside was a combination of grublike skin and sheets of pale chitin. At first glance Grondr was an unremarkable exemplar of the race. But when the fellow moved, even to adjust his jacket or scratch at his eye freckles, there was a strange precision to him. Egravan said that he was very, very old.
Grondr changed the subject with the clickety abruptness. "You are aware of the… changes at Straumli Realm?"
"You mean the fall of Straum? Yes." Though I'm surprised you are. Straumli Realm was a significant human civilization, but it accounted for only an infinitesimal fraction of Relay's message traffic.
"Please accept my sympathy." Despite the cheerful announcements from Straum, it was clear that absolute disaster had befallen Straumli Realm. Almost every race eventually dabbled in the Transcend, more often than not becoming a superintelligence, a Power. But it was clear by now that the Straumers had created, or awakened, a Power of deadly inclination. Their fate was as terrible as anything Ravna's father had ever predicted. And their bad luck was now a disaster that stretched across all that had been Straumli Realm. Grondr continued: "Will this news affect your work?"
Curiouser and curiouser; she would have sworn the other was coming to the point. Maybe this was the point? "Uh, no sir. The Straumli affair is a terrible thing, especially for humankind. But my home is Sjandra Kei. Straumli Realm is our offspring, but I have no relatives there." Though I might have been there if it hadn't been for Mother and Dad. Actually, when Straumli Main dropped off the Net, Sjandra Kei had been unreachable for almost forty hours. That had bothered her very much, since any rerouting should have been immediate. Communication was eventually established; the problem had been screwed-up routing tables on an alternate path. Ravna had even shot half a year's savings for an over-and-back mailing. Lynne and her parents were fine; the Straumli debacle was the news of the century for folks at Sjandra Kei, but it was still a disaster at great remove. Ravna wondered if parents had ever given better advice than hers!
"Good, good." His mouth parts moved in the analog of a human nod. His head tilted so only peripheral freckles were looking at her; the guy actually seemed hesitant! Ravna looked back silently. Grondr 'Kalir might be the strangest exec in the Org. He was the only one whose principal residence was Groundside. Officially he was in charge of a division of the archives; in fact, he ran Vrinimi Marketing (i.e., Intelligence). There were stories that he had visited the Top of the Beyond; Egravan claimed he had an artificial immune system. "You see, the Straumli disaster has incidentally made you one of the Organization's most valuable employees."
"I… don't understand."
"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.
"This one came from very far away, even if it's not quite a jackpot mission. It didn't see anything interesting in the Unthinking Depths — not surprising given that even simple automation fails there. We sold most of the cargo immediately. The rest we cataloged and forgot… till the Straumli affair." The starscape vanished. They were looking at a medical display, random limbs and body parts. They looked very human. "In a solar system at the bottom of the Slowness, the dredge found a derelict. The wreck had no ultradrive capability; it was truly a Slow Zone design. The solar system was uninhabited. We speculate the ship had a structural failure — or perhaps the crew was affected by the Depths. Either way, they ended up in a frozen mangle."
Tragedy at the bottom of the Slowness, thousands of years ago. Ravna forced her eyes from the carnage. "You figure on selling this to our visitor?"
"Even better. Once we started poking around, we discovered a substantial error in the cataloging. One of the deaders is almost intact. We patched it up with parts from the others. It was expensive, but we ended up with a living human." The picture flickered again, and Ravna caught her breath. In the medical animation, the parts floated into an orderly arrangement. There was a complete body there, torn up a little in the belly. Pieces came together, and… this was no "she". He floated whole and naked, as if in sleep. Ravna had no doubt of his humanity, but all humankind in the Beyond was descended from Nyjoran stock. This fellow had none of that heritage. The skin was smoky gray, not brown. The hair was bright reddish brown, a color she had only seen in pre-Nyjoran histories. The bones of the face were subtly different from modern humans. The small differences were more jarring than the outright alienness of her coworkers.
Now the figure was clothed. Under other circumstances, Ravna would have smiled. Grondr 'Kalir had picked an absurd costume, something from the Nyjoran era. The figure bore a sword and slug gun… A sleeping prince from the Age of Princesses.
"Behold the Ur-human," said Grondr.