Manta's Gift

  Carrying out her act of war.

  A small group of Qanska shot past Raimey in the near distance, mothers and children of various ages, swimming as fast as they could. He thought of calling to them, but he didn't have the breath to spare right now for a conversation. Neither, he suspected, did they.

  He kept going. More Qanska were visible now, most of them children with their mothers or other female Breeders, all of them swimming hard away from a point somewhere still ahead of him.

  Something coming up from below caught his eye. Vuuka, was his first, startled thought. But no, it was just a pair of Protectors, swimming upward toward the distress call. If they noticed him, they didn't say anything.

  Ahead, now, he could see something moving through the atmosphere. Or maybe a pair of somethings, one of them attached to the back of the other. His mind flashed back to that Sivra attack so many dayherds ago, where the smaller predators had hitched a ride on a hijacked Vuuka.

  But the shape ahead was all wrong for that. Besides, unless his eyes and distance perception were playing strange tricks on him, the thing up ahead was far too big for any Vuuka that could get up this high.

  In fact, it was too big for a Vuuka of any sort, at least any Vuuka he'd ever heard of. That lower shape had to be at least a hundred-size across from nose to tail, bigger than anything but the oldest of the Wise. What in crosswinds...?

  And then, suddenly, it clicked. "Vuuk-mook," he muttered disgustedly to himself. This was no natural phenomenon threatening the lives and well-being of the herd. This was nothing but another of the humans' probes.

  With an exasperated snort, he let himself glide to a halt, annoyed at himself and even more so with the Protectors and Nurturers of the herd. These were people who had seen Raimey delivered to them by this same sort of machine, after all. Had they forgotten all about that?

  Apparently so. Ahead, he could still see Qanska fleeing from the probe's advance. Mostly they were the slower Babies and younger Midlings, all of them being herded frantically away by their mothers. Behind them, the Protectors were gathered around the probe, churning the air madly as they repeatedly rammed their bony foreheads into its sides.

  Mentally, Raimey shook his head in contempt. Idiots.

  Still, if they kept beating themselves against the probe that way, someone was going to get hurt. He'd better go over and patiently explain that this was nothing to be worried about.

  He started forward again; and as he did so, the dull rumble of the probe's engines began to grow louder. The probe changed course, swiveling a few degrees into the wind and heading off toward Raimey's left.

  Raimey frowned, altering his own course to compensate. What in turbulent air were the humans doing? Trying to get their probe away from the Protectors before they damaged it? Probably. He picked up his pace, noticing as he did so that the probe was likewise speeding up.

  Still, if they wanted to get away, they were going to have to do better than that. Behind the probe, the Protectors had regrouped and were giving chase. Apparently, someone in charge over there was really determined to chase this intruder away.

  The probe was still picking up speed, outpacing the pursuing Protectors, the sound of its propellers filling the sky. Already it was moving far faster than Raimey would have expected something that big could go. Clearly, the humans had decided their best bet was just to give up and go do their research somewhere else. It wasn't like the skies of Jupiter were that crowded, after all—

  And then, abruptly, something seemed to catch in Raimey's throats. The probe wasn't running away, he suddenly realized. It was instead heading straight toward one of the straggler groups of Qanskan children and their mothers. Chasing them across the sky like a huge metal Vuuka.

  And it was gaining.

  "That's enough, Arbiter," Faraday said, the tightness of his throat making his voice sound strange in his ears. "Please. You already have more than enough. Just leave the others alone."

  "Thank you for your advice," Liadof said coolly. "Mr. Boschwitz: those two on the left—the smaller ones. I want them both."

  "Acknowledged, Arbiter," the voice replied from the ceiling speaker. "Commencing run."

  Faraday took a deep breath. "Arbiter, this is completely and thoroughly unconscionable," he said, fighting hard against the frustration boiling inside him.

  "Again, your opinion is noted, Colonel," Liadof said coldly. "But the base rule of negotiation is that the more cards in your hand, the stronger that hand is." She nodded toward the display. "Two more will make a nice even ten. A good number to have when the Leaders finally arrive."

  Faraday looked over at the techs. Sprenkle was staring back at him out of the corner of his eye, his face rigid. Do something, that look seemed to say.

  But all Faraday could do was give him a small, helpless shrug in return.

  The probe was closing fast on the fleeing Qanska. Raimey pushed hard against the air, trying to get there first, a sense of unreality swirling through his mind like a poisonous mist. For Faraday to be deliberately chasing down Qanskan children this way was utterly beyond comprehension.

  But chasing them down he most certainly was. Raimey was close enough now to see that the hundred-size lower shape was made of a loosely woven mesh; and inside, pressed against the back wall by the probe's speed, he could see the figures of several more Qanskan children, flailing away in helplessness and fear.

  An old, almost alien memory flicked into his mind: himself as a human child, spending lazy summer days hunting frogs in the creek that ran behind his house. But he'd always put the frogs back again afterward.

  That couldn't be what was happening here. Could it? The humans had had over twenty dayherds to study the Qanska before Raimey had even come here. Surely they didn't need to swoop down now and take fresh samples.

  But whatever they needed or thought they needed, the bitter-cold fact was that that was what they were doing. Even as he charged toward the probe, the front end of the mesh opened wide like a gaping mouth. Some kind of tentacle shot out the gap, snaking its way straight to one of the swimming Babies.

  And as the tentacle reached its target, the tip exploded into a tangle of smaller threads, wrapping securely around the small form.

  The Baby screeched in terror. Its mother braked hard, fins slapping against the air as she cut around in a tight circle to come to her child's aid.

  But there was nothing she could do. The tentacle was reeling the Baby in now, pulling it into the gaping mouth of the humans' cage with the inevitability of a pack of Sivra chewing their way under the skin. And then, even as she bit and slapped uselessly at the tentacle, a second cable shot out through the opening, barely missing her. A ninepulse later, a second Baby was being pulled in with the first.

  The first Baby vanished into the mesh cage. Its mother seemed to hesitate; then she, too, swam inside with her child. The second Baby was pulled in with them, and the mouth swung closed again. The deafening rumble of the engines faded, and the probe began to slow down, bouncing slightly in the buffeting of the winds.

  "Manta!" a voice gasped from behind him.

  An all-too-familiar voice. Raimey turned, his heart seizing up inside him.

  And there she was, swimming up behind him like something from a dream, or a nightmare.

  Drusni.

  It was a moment he'd feared ever since making the decision to come back. He'd played the scenario over in his mind a thousand times, trying to anticipate every possible combination of emotion and conversation and conflict and outcome.

  And now, in the midst of chaos, the moment had come. Here he floated, nose to nose with the female he realized now he still so desperately loved. Gazing at her, with the sounds of fear and panic raging behind him, he waited for the windstorm of emotion.

  But it didn't come. The love he felt was still there, simmering deep within him. So was the pain that a portion of that love had decayed into.

  But there was no anger, no recrimination, not even any awkwardness. F
or the moment, at least, the crisis swirling around them was driving everything else away.

  "What's going on?" he demanded, swiveling around and coming alongside her so he could keep an eye on the probe.

  "They're stealing our children," Drusni said, her voice trembling with fatigue and horror. "They said—I mean, a voice came and said—"

  "Calm down," Raimey said, reaching over automatically to touch her fin with his.

  She didn't recoil from his touch, as he'd half expected she would. Instead, to his surprise, she moved closer to him, pressing the side of her body against his as she huddled like a frightened child beneath his fin. "I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm just—I'm so scared."

  "I know," Raimey said. "Me, too. Now, what exactly did they say?"

  "They want something from us, but I don't understand what," she said. "Something that takes us back and forth between the great lights. Do you know what that means?"

  "Unfortunately, yes," Raimey said grimly, anger and contempt swirling together with the fear in his stomach. So that was how it was going to be. No requests; no bargaining; no negotiation or trading. Earth wanted that stardrive; and by the Deep, they were going to have it.

  Even if they had to turn to kidnapping to get it. "And they said they would hold on to those children until we give it up?"

  "Yes," Drusni said. "They said that someone was to deliver the message to the Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise, and call them here for a conversation."

  Raimey lashed his tails furiously. What in the Deep was Faraday doing? Calling the Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise? He should know by now that only the Counselors could ever make it up to Level One, and they only with assistance. Had he lost his mind?

  Or was Faraday even there anymore? Had he left the project, and someone else taken over?

  Drusni shivered against him. "Why are they doing this?" she asked softly. "How many children are they going to take?"

  "I don't know," Raimey said, pulling reluctantly away from her. Belatedly now, as he half turned to face her again, he noticed something he'd missed in their initial meeting: she was very pregnant. One of her children with Pranlo, no doubt. Distantly, he wondered how many others they'd had together.

  And the humans up there were stealing children. No wonder she was on the edge of panic.

  There was a sudden multiple thudding sound from the direction of the probe. Raimey turned again, to see that the pack of pursuing Protectors had caught up with it and resumed throwing themselves against the cage.

  "But they're your own people," Drusni pleaded. "Can't you make them stop this?"

  "I can try," Raimey said, searching his memory. It had been so long since he'd used that subvocalization trick. How had that worked again?

  Ah. There—he had it. Faraday? he called silently. The English phonemes sounded starkly alien as they echoed through his mind, and he wondered if he was even getting them right. Faraday, where are you? What are you doing?

  But there was no answer. Could he still be out of range?

  Ridiculous. The probe was right there. If they could communicate with it, they could surely communicate with him.

  Unless they simply didn't want to talk to him anymore.

  His tails lashed viciously. So that was it. All they'd ever wanted in the first place was the Qanskan stardrive. Raimey had failed to get it for them; and so Raimey was no longer part of the plan.

  "Manta?" Drusni asked anxiously.

  "I'm sorry," Raimey said. "I can't get them to talk to me."

  "Then you can't stop them?"

  Raimey arched his fins, glancing again at her distended belly where her unborn child lay. Pranlo's child; and that too added a fresh layer to the ache inside him.

  But if things had been different, it might have been his child she was carrying.

  His child who was now in deadly danger.

  "I don't know," he told her grimly. "Let's see."

  And with that he leaped forward. One more Qanska battering himself against the metal cage, he knew, would probably not make a difference. But then again, it might.

  One way or the other, he was going to find out.

  SEVENTEEN

  "Damage readings?" Liadof called. "Mr. Milligan?"

  "Nothing major," Milligan said, his voice studiously neutral.

  "Anything minor?"

  Milligan shrugged. "Looks like we've got about a meter of partial link separation along the starboard edge of the probe/cage intersection."

  "A meter?" Liadof demanded. "And you didn't think that was worth volunteering?"

  "I assumed that because it's not a complete break, it wasn't something that required your attention," Milligan said stiffly.

  "Or you hoped I wouldn't notice?" Liadof countered acidly. "That's the sort of attitude that borders on insubordination. That, or gross incompetence. Either one could have you joining Ms. McCollum under house arrest."

  A muscle in Milligan's cheek twitched. Anger or surrender; Faraday couldn't tell which. "My apologies, Arbiter. I'll try to do better."

  "Yes. You will." Liadof looked at Faraday. "Your Qanska are getting clever, Colonel. They've realized they can't do anything against the cage material itself, so they've shifted to attacking the more rigid interface."

  "No, they're not stupid," Faraday agreed tightly. "And I remind you that we've never seen what they can do if they're pushed too far."

  "Don't be absurd," she said contemptuously. "They're herbivores, without hands or any natural weapons except those bony foreheads of theirs. Trust me, Omega is perfectly safe."

  "I wasn't necessarily talking about their physical strength," Faraday said. "Let me also remind you that our assumption is that they've built themselves a stardrive—"

  "More likely inherited or stolen one built by someone else," Liadof interrupted. "They're certainly not capable of building anything themselves."

  "Fine," Faraday said impatiently. "Whatever. My point is, if they've got a stardrive, who's to say they haven't got weapons to go along with it?"

  "Arbiter!" Beach called sharply. "I'm getting a signal from Raimey."

  "Put it on," Faraday ordered.

  "I give the orders here, Colonel," Liadof said sharply. "What does he want, Mr. Beach?"

  "So far, he's just hailing us," Beach said. "He's close enough to see the probe; I presume he wants to know what's going on."

  "And he deserves to know," Faraday said, searching for a good reason to bring Raimey into the loop on this. "Besides, he needs the whole story in case you want him to help translate to the Counselors when they arrive."

  "I thought we had computer programs capable of translating Qanskan tonals," Liadof said.

  "To some degree, yes," Faraday told her. "But there are a lot of subtleties the translators still don't get."

  "Subtleties aren't going to make or break this deal." Liadof lifted her eyebrows at him. "Besides, I thought you were the one who wanted to keep Raimey out of this as much as possible."

  "I thought you were the one who didn't care how this affected his life," Faraday countered. "Besides, it's too late to keep him out."

  Liadof shrugged fractionally and turned her attention back to the displays. "Situation, Mr. Milligan?"

  "They still haven't broken through," Milligan reported.

  "Of course not," Liadof said with an edge of sarcasm. "That wouldn't be something you could pretend you hadn't seen, would it? Now tell me what they have done."

  "They're still beating at the starboard intersection line," Milligan said. "Looks like they've battered, oh, two more links partially out of shape."

  "How large is the gap they've made?" Liadof asked. "Big enough for the hostages to get out?"

  "There isn't any actual gap," Milligan said. "The separation is only partial."

  "I know that," Liadof snapped. "I meant that if they manage to work it all the way open, then will it be big enough?"

  "Possibly," Milligan conceded. "But I doubt they'll get it open."

&nb
sp; Liadof smiled thinly. "You doubt? Or you hope?"

  "That's unfair, Arbiter," Faraday put in. "You've already made it clear—"

  "Spare me, Colonel," Liadof said acidly. "Your people's token obedience hardly obscures true loyalties. Mr. Milligan, where is Raimey now?"

  "He's headed for Omega." Milligan hesitated. "It looks like he's going to join the fight against the cage."

  "Really," Liadof said, flashing a look at Faraday. "And so much for his loyalties. All right, Colonel, let's hear your opinion. Do you think they can break through the cage?"

  "Ms. McCollum is our expert on Qanskan capabilities," Faraday said pointedly. "In her absence, I'd hesitate to even hazard a guess."

  Liadof exhaled noisily. "Fine," she bit out. "Have it your way. If you and your people won't help, we'll just assume a worst-case scenario and take it from there. Mr. Beach, activate the McCarthy system."

  She gave Faraday a tight, mocking smile. "You wanted Raimey involved, Colonel? Fine. Let's get him involved."

  The smile vanished. "And let's see how well he can fight," she added. "On our side.

  The major thrust of the attack seemed to be along the right-hand flank of the intruding machine, Raimey saw as he swam toward it, right at the seam where the probe itself joined the lower cage structure. The Protectors had an organized attack going, each one swimming toward it at top speed, ramming the target area, then circling around to wait his turn in line again. They were running four abreast, rhythmically hitting the intersection along a line probably fifteen sizes long. And of course, they had chosen to concentrate on the windward side of the cage, letting the wind give their attacks that much extra speed and impact.

  It seemed a reasonable, well thought out strategy. Question was, was there a better one?

  Raimey cut to his right, shifting into a wide circle around the intruder. He was by no means an expert on devices like this, but he would bet a nineday chinster feast that he was more familiar with human machines in general than anyone else on Jupiter. Maybe he could find a weakness that the others wouldn't be able to spot.