They were less than eight weeks from Tines' World, both Pham and Blueshell said. If the Zone conditions remained stable. If they were not overtaken in the meantime.
Less than two months, after the six already voyaged. But the days were not like before. Every one was a challenge, a standoff sometimes cloaked in civility, sometimes flaring into threats of sudden death — as when Pham retrieved Blueshell's shop equipment.
Pham was living on the command deck now; when he left it, the hatch was locked on his ID. He had destroyed, or thought he had destroyed, all other privileged links to the ship's automation. He and Blueshell were in almost constant collaboration… but not like before. Every step was slow, Blueshell explaining everything, allowed to demonstrate nothing. That's where the arguments came closest to deadly force, when Pham must give in to one peril or the other. For every day the pursuing fleets were a little bit closer: two bands of killers, and what was left of Sjandra Kei. Evidently some of the SjK Commercial Security fleet could still fight, wanted revenge on the Alliance. Once Ravna suggested to Pham that they contact Commercial Security, try to persuade them to attack the Blighter fleet. Pham had given her a blank look. "Not yet, maybe not ever," he said, and turned away. In a way his answer was a relief: Such a battle would be a suicidal long shot. Ravna didn't want the last of her kinsfolk dying for her.
So the OOB might arrive at Tines' World before the enemy, but with what little time to spare! Some days Ravna withdrew in tears and despair. What brought her back was Jefri and Greenstalk. They both needed her, and for a few weeks more she could still help.
Mr. Steel's defense plans were proceeding. The Tines were even having some success with their wideband radio. Steel reported that Woodcarver's main force was on its way north; there was more than one race against time. She spent many hours with the OOB's library, devising more gifts for the Jefri's friends. Some things — like telescopes — were easy, but others… It wasn't wasted effort. Even if the Blight won, its fleet might ignore the natives, might settle for killing the OOB and winning back the Countermeasure.
Greenstalk was slowly improving. At first Ravna was afraid the improvement might be in her own imagination. Ravna was spending a good part of each day sitting with the Rider, trying to see progress in her responses. Greenstalk was very "far away", almost like a human with stroke damage and prosthesis. In fact, she seemed regressed from the articulate horror of her first conversations. Maybe her recent progress was just a mirror to Ravna's sensitivity, to the fact that Ravna was with her so much. Blueshell insisted there was progress, but with that stubborn inflexibility of his. Two weeks, three — and there was no doubt: something was healing at the boundary between Rider and skrodeling. Greenstalk consistently made sense, consistently committed important rememberings… Now as often as not it was she helping Ravna. Greenstalk saw things that Ravna had missed: "Sir Pham isn't the only one who is afraid of us Skroderiders. Blueshell is frightened too, and it is tearing him apart. He can't admit it even to me, but he thinks it's possible that we're infected independently of our skrodes. He desperately wants to convince Pham that this is not true — and so to convince himself." She was silent for a long moment, one frond brushing against Ravna's arm. Sea sounds surrounded them in the cabin, but ship's automation could no longer produce surging water. "Sigh. We must pretend the surf, dear Ravna. Somewhere it will always be, no matter what happened at Sjandra Kei, no matter what happens here."
Blueshell was hearty gentleness around his mate, but alone with Ravna his rage showed through: "No, no, I don't object to Sir Pham's navigation, at least not now. Perhaps we could be a little further ahead with me directly at the helm, but the fastest ships behind us would still be closing. It's the other things, my lady. You know how untrustworthy our automation is down here. Pham is hurting it further. He's written his own security overrides. He's turning the ship's environment automation into a system of boobytraps."
Ravna had seen evidence of this. The areas around OOB's command deck and ship's workshop looked like military checkpoints. "You know his fears. If this makes him feel safer — "
"That's not the point, My Lady. I would do anything to persuade him to accept my help. But what he's doing is deadly dangerous. Our Bottom automation is not reliable, and he's making it actively worse. If we get some sudden stress, the environment programs will likely have a bizarre crash — atmosphere dump, thermal runaway, anything."