Manta's Gift

  Still, the very fact that he now knew what was going on sent a welcome breath of new life into the monotony of the journey. He began to pay attention to everything around him: observing the animals and plant life, studying each passing Qanska to see if it looked like it might be on guard duty, and generally watching for signs that they were getting close.

  Which meant that, when the abrupt and violent end of the journey came, he was looking in exactly the wrong direction.

  "How much farther are we going?" Manta asked as the three of them settled down to eat. The meal today was a new one on him: a rather spicy orange-colored plant Wirkani had identified as cloftis. "What, you mean today?" Gryntaro asked, glowering as he nibbled disdainfully at one corner of the run. He had proclaimed his distaste for cloftis at their first sighting of the orange flow and urged that they continue on until they found something more palatable. But Wirkani had been hungry, and had insisted, and here they were. "I suppose that depends on how long we spend with this waste of air space."

  "It won't be much longer," Wirkani said soothingly. "Tell me, what do you think of the cloftis?"

  "It's not bad," Manta said, taking another bite. Wirkani seemed inordinately concerned lately with his opinion of the various new plants they were running into out here. Was she that obsessed with food, or was that simply her favorite way of changing the subject?

  "It's one of my favorites," she said, taking another mouthful. "Though of course there's no accounting for taste," she added, flipping her tails in a slightly condescending way toward Gryntaro.

  "So you've been out here often?" Manta asked, probing gently. "I mean, this stuff doesn't seem to grow in Centerline."

  "We've done the trip a few times," Gryntaro said, his voice suddenly and strangely cautious.

  "The Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise have sent us to both the northern and southern regions on several occasions," Wirkani added more casually. "I prefer the southern, myself. The food's better."

  "And of course it's warmer?" Manta suggested.

  Gryntaro sent him an odd look. "Warmer?"

  "Yes, warmer," Manta repeated, looking back and forth between them. He'd been expecting the comment to spark some kind of reaction, but all he could see on either of them was puzzlement. "Isn't it warmer here than in the northern regions?"

  "Not that I ever noticed," Wirkani said.

  "Me, neither," Gryntaro seconded.

  "But it is warmer than in Centerline," Manta persisted. He wasn't imagining it, was he? "Right?"

  "If you say so," Gryntaro said impatiently. "Look, this is getting ridiculous. Wirkani?"

  "I suppose so," she said, an odd note of reluctance in her voice. "Yes, I agree."

  Manta grimaced. So much for that theory. Either the stardrive wasn't responsible for the extra warmth, or the two of them were terrific actors.

  Or else he was imagining all of it.

  "Good," Gryntaro said. "You finished eating yet, Breeder?"

  "Sure," Manta told him. "Let's go."

  "Now, don't say that just because Gryntaro's impatient," Wirkani cautioned. "If you haven't eaten your fill, say so right now."

  "No, it's okay," Manta said.

  "Because you may not be eating anything more for a while," she said. "I want to make sure you're all right."

  "I'm fine," Manta assured her, frowning. First questions about his taste in food, and now questions about whether he was getting enough to eat. His own mother hadn't been this solicitous. "Really. I've had plenty."

  "All right," she said, her voice sounding oddly tense. Flipping her fins, she swam up and over him. Manta took one last nibble of the cloftis—

  And gasped as, with a whoosh of collapsing buoyancy sacs, Wirkani dropped hard straight down on top of him.

  "Hey!" he yelped, fighting not to choke as that last mouthful tried to stick in the wrong throat. "What are you doing?"

  "I'm sorry, Manta," she said, her voice muffled as her body pressed down, pushing the two of them deeper into the atmosphere. "I really am."

  "Come on, this isn't funny," Manta protested, wiggling back and forth and trying to get free of her, his mind flashing back to that first time Beltrenini had pulled this same stunt.

  But where Beltrenini had been cheerful and casual about the whole thing, there was an edge of grim determination in Wirkani's voice that was swirling up a whirlwind of fear inside him. He wiggled harder—

  "Stop squirming," Gryntaro rumbled, shoving a fin against Manta's side to hold him in place. He was sinking alongside them, helping to keep Manta in position in the hollow between Wirkani's body and fin. "You'll just make it harder on yourself."

  "Make what harder?" Manta demanded. This was no Beltrenini-style food run—that much was for sure. But what in the Deep was it? "Come on, please. What's going on?"

  But there was no answer. Only the pressure of Wirkani's body on top of his, and the stiffness of Gryntaro's fin.

  They passed the lower part of Level Four and sank into Level Five. Manta continued to squirm, but the deeper they went the less effective his wiggling seemed to become.

  A new plan was called for; and with a conscious effort, he forced his muscles to relax. Whatever insane plan Gryntaro and Wirkani had scooped together for him, he would do better to conserve his strength and watch for a chance to fight back. At their twelve-sizes long to his own seven-size, at least they didn't outweigh and outsize him as much as Beltrenini had.

  And of course, they couldn't go as deep as the Counselor and her friends could, either. Level Five was about the limit for a Protector and Nurturer, which wasn't that much farther than a Breeder like Manta could manage. That meant that his own buoyancy wouldn't hold him as tightly in place here as it had with Beltrenini.

  So, given all that, what in the Deep did they think they were going to accomplish here?

  "You have him?" Gryntaro called.

  "I have him," Wirkani's muffled voice confirmed. "Do it quickly, all right?"

  "Sure."

  Leaving Manta's side, Gryntaro swam away, curving around in a wide circle. Keeping an eye on him, Manta gave his fins one more tentative wiggle.

  But Wirkani had been right. Her weight and his buoyancy were holding him pretty solidly against her.

  Still, if he could distract the two of them, just for a pulse or two...

  Gryntaro finished his circle and came to a halt facing Manta. "Manta, child of the humans, you have been examined by a triad of Counselors of the Qanska," he intoned, his gruff voice suddenly darkly official. "Under the direction and guidance of the Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise, they have passed sentence upon you."

  "What are you talking about?" Manta protested, a horrible feeling starting to churn in his stomach. "What sentence?"

  "It has therefore been decreed that you are to be sent into exile from Centerline Qanskan civilization," Gryntaro continued in that same voice. "You will never again be permitted—"

  "Wait a ninepulse," Manta cut him off. "Please, wait. Counselor Latranesto never said anything about punishment. You were there—you heard him. He said I could go."

  "Don't be a fool," Gryntaro growled. "Did you really think you would escape justice for the terrible crimes you committed against Breeder Druskani, Breeder Prantrulo, and their unborn child?"

  "But I explained all that," Manta said, desperation edging into his voice. Exile? "It wasn't my fault. It really wasn't."

  "The sentence has been passed," Gryntaro said, ignoring him. "It will now be carried out." Flipping the ends of his fins, he started moving forward again. Drifting around toward Manta's left, he opened his jaws—

  "Wait a pulse," Manta said, shrinking back from the sight of those teeth. "Please. What are you going to do? I mean, you said exile, right? What are you going to do?"

  "Gryntaro," Wirkani's muffled voice came.

  "What?" the Protector asked.

  "He really does have a right to know," she said. "Go ahead and tell him."

  Reluctantly, Manta
thought, Gryntaro stopped. "You've been exiled from Centerline," he said. "We have to make sure you won't try to come back. Therefore—" he flicked his tails over his back toward the side of Manta's head. "—I'm going to bite out your left ear."

  A jolt of terror and disbelief shocked through Manta. "What?" he gasped.

  "You'll still be able to function well enough to survive," Gryntaro continued, his voice almost obscenely calm. "But you'll find that the pressure of the winds in the open cavity will make it painful for you to swim northward for very long. Far too painful for you to ever undertake the journey back to Centerline."

  "I'll stay with you long enough to make sure you're healing properly," Wirkani added. "It will mostly heal."

  "I'll be removing the ear itself, plus all the parts of it that lie beneath the skin," Gryntaro said. "There will be pain, and for that I apologize. But I know what I'm doing, and I'll be as quick and clean as possible."

  Manta was having trouble breathing. "You don't have to do this," he pleaded, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. "I won't come back. I promise."

  "It'll be easier if you hold still," Gryntaro said, beginning to drift forward again. "If you squirm, I'll only wind up biting off more than I have to." He opened his mouth, his breath warm on the side of Manta's head.

  From the depths beneath them, something flashed suddenly into view. Manta caught just a glimpse of rapid movement as the jaws opened wide beside him—

  And with a grunt of pain, Gryntaro jerked and doubled over as a blur of color slammed up hard into his belly, catching him squarely in the lungs. The Protector rolled half over onto his side, fin tips twitching as he gasped for breath.

  Manta gaped in astonishment. But before he could do anything more than that, the blur slid deftly past Gryntaro's bulk and continued upward. There was the whistling hiss of something slashing across Wirkani's skin, and her shrill scream of pain joined in with Gryntaro's deeper wheezing. The Nurturer tilted to the side—

  And with a hard twist the opposite direction, Manta rolled out from underneath her, popping out and bouncing upward like a baby being ejected from its mother's womb. Stretching out his buoyancy sacs, he headed as fast as he could for the upper levels.

  Above him, his rescuer was similarly moving upward, and Manta could see those lumpy and distended fins rippling as he added a horizontal component to his upward movement. Manta tried to do likewise, but his muscles were still trembling too much from residual panic for him to get them moving. He continued to rise, watching as the other slowly began to leave him behind.

  Abruptly, the rescuer seemed to notice the widening gap. With a smooth twist of his body and tails, he abandoned his forward motion and curved back around toward Manta. "Well, come on," he called. "You want to stick around here all sundark?"

  A very familiar voice; and for the second time that terrible day, Manta felt his throats tighten in surprise and uncertainty and fear.

  It was Pranlo.

  They swam the rest of the day together in silence, pushing themselves to the limit as they tried to put as much distance as possible between them and Manta's erstwhile companions. Keeping quiet seemed only prudent; and for his part, Manta didn't have any extra lung power to spare for conversation anyway.

  He could only hope Pranlo's silence was for the same reasons.

  They swam until sundark, and a little ways beyond it. Only then, finally, did Pranlo signal a halt.

  "Whew!" he said, breathing hard as the two of them coasted to a stop in the buffeting winds. "I haven't had a swim like that in dayherds. Nice to know I can still do it. How about you? You okay?"

  "I'm a little winded," Manta admitted, feeling nervous and awkward and fearful as he faced the other. "My fins are probably going to hurt in the sunlight."

  "Hopefully not as much as those new friends of yours are going to hurt," Pranlo said, his voice sounding rather grimly satisfied. Maybe he was feeling awkward, too. "I was trying to catch that Nurturer's eye with my tails as I went past. Don't know if I got her or not."

  "You definitely got Gryntaro square in the lungs," Manta said, trying hard to pretend this was just a casual conversation between two friends. "I tried that trick on a couple of Vuuka once. Works pretty good."

  "Wish I could have seen their expressions," Pranlo said, moving in for a closer look at Manta's left ear. "He didn't get you, did he?"

  "No, you were just in time," Manta assured him, wishing he could read the other's face. There seemed to be more background light here than he remembered from a typical Centerline sundark, but it wasn't nearly enough for him to figure out what Pranlo might be thinking.

  Odd that he hadn't noticed the brighter sundarks before during this trip. But then, the way Gryntaro had pushed them, he was usually fast asleep by this time of sundark.

  "Yeah, it looks fine," Pranlo confirmed, drifting back again. "Good thing, too. I'd hate to have followed you all this way and then wound up being a couple of pulses too late. Drusni would never have let me hear the end of it."

  Manta's heart twisted painfully inside him. Drusni. "Is she... I mean...?"

  "She's fine," Pranlo said. "She was still weak when I left, but the Nurturers assured me she was out of danger. She's probably mostly healed by now."

  "At least physically," Manta murmured. "Pranlo... I..."

  "It's all right," Pranlo said softly. "Drusni told me what happened."

  Manta winced. "All of it?"

  "All of it," the other said. "Like I said, it's all right."

  Manta turned away from him. Even in the dim light, he couldn't stand to look his friend in the eye. "It's not all right," he said, the words hurting his throats. "What I did was... I can't even find the right words for it."

  He flipped his tails restlessly. "I've been thinking about it ever since it happened," he went on, wondering if Pranlo was understanding any of this. "All my life, anything bad that happened to me was never my fault. At least, not as far as I was concerned. It was always someone else's fault, or even the whole universe's fault. Never mine."

  "But this one wasn't your fault," Pranlo pointed out.

  "Ironic, isn't it?" Manta said, grimacing. "For once in my life, I really didn't have anything to do with it; and so, of course, this is the one I feel worse about than all the rest of my screw-ups put together."

  He sighed. "And this is the one I can't ever make right."

  "Not to mention the one you were going to be punished for," Pranlo pointed out.

  Manta shivered, thinking about what had almost happened to him.

  What still would happen if they ever caught up with him again.

  Pranlo was apparently thinking the same thing. "We'll have to be careful, of course," he said. "They'll be on the watch for us as soon as those two get back to Centerline and whistle up the alarm."

  "They'll be watching for me, anyway," Manta said. "With luck, you went by too fast for them to be able to identify you."

  "Probably," Pranlo said dryly. "But if they catch us together, they shouldn't have any trouble figuring it out."

  "We'll just have to make sure they don't, then," Manta said, suddenly making up his mind. "Do you want me to leave now? Or should I wait until sunlight in case we get jumped by predators—"

  "Whoa, whoa," Pranlo interrupted. "Wait a pulse. What's this leaving stuff? We're going back to Centerline together, aren't we?"

  "We most certainly are not," Manta said firmly. "Like you said, if they catch you with me, you've had it. Besides, I've been exiled. I can't go back."

  Pranlo flipped his tails in contempt. "To the Deep with that," he said, just as firmly. "Hey, swimming circles around authority is one of the things you and I do best, remember? We can keep you hidden, even in Centerline. Besides, Drusni wants to see you, and I sure don't want to bring her way out here."

  Manta's heart twisted a little more. "Drusni doesn't want to see me," he said. "Not after what I..."

  "She knows what you did," Pranlo reminded him. "She also knows something you see
m to have forgotten: that it was her idea in the first place. And that it saved the lives of a whole bunch of children."

  "Yeah, right," Manta said bitterly. "And all it cost was her dignity, her self-esteem, and her child. Yeah, that was sure worth it."

  "She knew the risks at the time," Pranlo said quietly. "And she was ready to pay whatever it cost."

  "But her own baby?"

  "We had two other children swimming in that herd, you know," Pranlo said tartly. "A Midling and a Youth. They might have been grabbed on that machine's next pass."

  "So she did it for her children?" Manta asked.

  "Partly," Pranlo said. "And partly to help the children who'd already been caught."

  He flipped his tails. "But the biggest reason she did it was for you."

  Manta felt his muscles tense. "For me?"

  "You were as much a captive of the humans as the children were," Pranlo said. "She knew that. I really think that for that alone she would have paid the price, even if there hadn't been any children involved. She was willing to do whatever it took to set you free."

  "No," Manta said, tails twitching in agitation. "That can't be."

  "Okay, fine," Pranlo said calmly. "So which one of us are you calling a liar? Her, or me?"

  Manta clenched his jaws. "I'm not calling anyone a liar," he said. "I'm suggesting you're bending the truth to be kind. Trying to make me think that she doesn't... that she doesn't hate me."

  "Hate you?" Pranlo gave a little snort. "Listen, you big striped idiot. Who do you think sent me out here to keep an eye on you in the first place? My mother?"

  Manta swiveled around to stare at him, not daring to believe it. "You mean she really doesn't...?"

  "We're friends, Manta," Pranlo said quietly. "All three of us. Always have been; always will be. It'll take a lot more than getting caught up in some Pakra-scorned human scheme to change that."

  Manta swallowed hard. "The Three Musketta, huh?"

  "Exactly." Pranlo yawned. "And right now, at least one of the Musketta needs to get some sleep. How about you?"