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More than once in his life, Pham Nuwen had wakened inside medical automation. He was almost used to coffin-close tanks, plain green walls, wires and tubes. This was different, and it took him a while to realize just where he was. Willowy trees bent close around him, swaying just a little in the warm breeze. He seemed to be lying on the softest moss, in a tiny glade above a pond. Summer haze hung in the air above the water. It was all very nice, except that the leaves were furry, and not quite the green of anything he had ever seen. This was someone else's notion of home. He reached up toward the nearest branch,复件 (6) 复件 air max, and his hand hit something unyielding just fifty centimeters above his face. A curved wall. For all the trick pictures, this was about the same size as the surgeons he remembered. Something clicked behind his head; the idyll slid past him,Beats Tour (Black) High Resolution In-Ear Headphones With ControlTalk, taking its warm breeze with it. Somebody -- Ravna -- floated just beyond the cylinder. "Hi, Pham." She reached past the surgeon's hull to squeeze his hand. Her kiss was tremulous, and she looked haunted, as if she'd been crying a lot. "Hi, yourself," he said. Memory came back in jagged pieces. He tried to push off the bed, and found another similarity between this surgeon and ones of the Qeng Ho: he was securely plugged in. Ravna laughed a little weakly. "Surgeon. Disconnect." After a moment, Pham drifted free. "It's still holding my arm." "No,复件 (35) air max1, that's the sling. Your left arm is going to take a while to regrow. It almost got burned off, Pham." "Oh." He looked down at the white cocoon that meshed his arm against his side. He remembered the gunfight now.... and realized that parts of his dream were deadly real. "How long have I been out?" The anxiety spilled into his voice. "About thirty hours. We're more than sixty light-years out from Harmonious Repose. We're doing okay, except that now everyone in creation seems to be chasing us." The dream. His free hand clamped hard on Ravna's arm. "The Skroderiders, where are they?" Not on board, pray the Fleet. "W-what's left of Greenstalk is in the other surgeon. Blueshell is --" Why has he let me live? Pham's eyes roved the room. They were in a utility cabin. Any weapons were at least twenty meters away. Hm. More important than guns: get command console privileges with the OOB ... if it was not already too late. He pushed out of the surgeon and drifted out of the room. Ravna followed. "Take it easy, Pham. You just came out of a surgeon." "What have they said about the shoot-out?" "Poor Greenstalk's not in a position to say anything,复件 (62) air max1, Pham. Blueshell says pretty much what you did: Greenstalk was grabbed by the rogue Riders, forced to lure you two into a trap." "Hmhm,复件 (60) air max1, hmhm," Pham strove for a noncommittal tone. So maybe there was a chance; maybe Blueshell was not yet perverted. He continued his one-handed progress up the ship's axis corridor. A minute later he was on the bridge, Ravna tagging behind. "Pham. What's the matter? There's a lot we have to decide, but --" How right you are. He dived onto the command deck, and made for the command console. "Ship. Do you recognize my voice?" Ravna began,复件 (63) air max, "Pham, What's this --" "Yes, sir." " -- all about?" "Command privileges," he said. Capabilities granted while the Riders were ashore. Would they still be in place? "Granted." The Skroderiders had had thirty hours to plan their defense. This was all too easy, too easy. "Suspend command privileges for the Skroderiders. Isolate them." "Yes, sir," came the ship's reply. Liar! But what more could he do? The sweep toward panic crested, and suddenly he felt very cool.