He heard a small sound of surprise from the far side of the deck. Ravna was standing close by a window that looked out from one of Greenstalk's side cameras. "What is it, Rav?" "Skroderiders. See?" She pointed into the mob and zoomed the view. For a moment the images towered over her. Through the passing chaos he had a glimpse of hull forms and graceful fronds. Except for cosmetic stripes and tassles, they looked very familiar indeed. "Yeah,
复件 (66) air max1, there's a small colony of them hereabouts." He opened the channel to Greenstalk and told her about the sighting. "I know. We ... smelled them. Sigh. I wish we had time to visit them after this. Finding friends in far places ... always nice." She helped Blueshell push the trellises around a balloon acquarium. They could see Rihndell's people just ahead. Six tusk-legs sat on the wall around what might be test equipment. Blueshell and Greenstalk pushed their ball of frothy carbon into the group. The scrimshawed one leaned close to the pile and reached out to fondle the pieces with its tiny arms. One after another the trellises were placed in the tester. Blueshell moved in close to watch,
Beats Butterfly by Vivienne Tam with ControlTalk High Monster Butterfly, and Pham set the main windows to look through his cameras. Twenty seconds passed. Rihndell's Trisk interpreter said, "First seven test true, make an interlocked septet." Only then did Pham realize he had been holding his breath. The next three "septets" passed, too. Another sixty seconds. He glanced at the ship's repair status. OOB considered the job done but for sign-off commit from the local net. Another few minutes and we can kiss this place goodbye,
复件 (29) air max! But there are always problems. Saint Rihndell bitched about the twelfth and fifteenth sets. Blueshell argued at length, grudgingly produced replacement pieces from his bag of spares. Pham couldn't tell if the Skroderider was debating for the fun of it,
复件 (82) air max, or if he really was short on good replacements. Twenty-five sets okayed. "Where is Greenstalk going?" said Ravna. "What?" Pham called up the view from Greenstalk's cameras. She was five meters from Blueshell and moving away. He panned wildly about. A local Skroderider was on her left and another floated inverted above her. Its fronds touched hers in apparently amiable conversation. "Greenstalk!" There was no reply. "Blueshell! What's happening?" But that Rider was in gesticulating argument with the tusk-legs. Still another set of trellises had failed their examination. "Blueshell,
复件 (57) air max1!" After a moment the Rider's voice came over their private channel. He sounded drifty, the way he often did when he was jammed or overloaded. "Not to bother me now, Sir Pham. I'm down to three perfect replacements. I must persuade these fellows to settle for what they already have." Ravna broke in, "But what about Greenstalk? What's happening to her?" The cameras had lost sight of each other. Greenstalk and her companions emerged from a dense crowd and floated across the middle of the concourse. They were using gas jets instead of wheels. Someone was in a hurry. The seriousness of events finally got through to Blueshell. The view from his skrode turned wildly as he rolled back and forth around Saint Rihndell's people. There was the rattle of Rider talk and then his voice came back on the inside channel, plaintive and confused. "She's gone. She's gone. I must ... I have to ...." Abruptly he rolled back to the tusk legs and resumed the argument that had just been interrupted. After a couple of seconds his voice came back on the inside channel. "What should I do, Sir Pham? I have a sale here still incomplete,
复件 (16) air max1, yet my Greenstalk has wandered off." Or been kidnapped. "