Manta's Gift (28 page)

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. For 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."

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.

But if there was such a weakness, it was well hidden. A few of the Protectors were working themselves against the cage itself, but Raimey could see that the mesh was too flexible to be damaged that way. It merely absorbed the impact, dissipating it along its entire surface area, instead of bending or cracking.

The probe itself, in contrast, looked more promising, what with its turboprops and floats and various antennas. Other Protectors were swimming around up there, gingerly poking and prodding at it. For a moment Raimey wondered why they weren't attacking it more vigorously, until it occurred to him that disabling the probe would be instantly disastrous. Sinking it would also sink the cage, sending the helpless children inside to their deaths in the crushing pressure of the lower atmosphere.

Unless the Protectors could hold the cage up while others battered it open. Flipping over, Raimey headed around toward the underside to take a look. After all, enough Protectors working together had been able to lift Latranesto up to Level One the day of Raimey's birth. Surely this thing couldn't weigh more than a full-grown Counselor.

But the humans had anticipated that possibility. The underside of the cage was fitted with a forest of jagged spikes, clearly designed to gouge their way into any Qanska who tried to press up against it with his back.

Raimey couldn't tell if they were sharp enough to penetrate the tough Qanskan skin all the way to the vital organs. But then, it was hardly necessary to stab any of the supporting Protectors to death. At the first release of blood, every Vuuka in sniffing range would instantly be on its way. Enough Qanskan blood, enough Vuuka, and the winds would shake with the sounds of the slaughter. And the babies would sink to their deaths anyway.

It made him wonder why the humans hadn't simply put spikes around the whole cage. Were they that confident that it could stand up to anything the Qanska could do?

Well, maybe the Protectors could surprise them a little. Keeping well clear of the spikes, Raimey headed for the far side where the main attack was taking place. He could feel his heart pounding inside him as an odd sense of light-headedness seemed to glaze over his vision. An old phrase of his grandmother's—
so mad I couldn't see straight—
flashed through his mind. Maybe it wasn't simply the hyperbole that he'd always assumed.

He rounded the bottom of the probe and started upward toward the group of Protectors. One of the attack lines was shorter than the others, he noted, and he headed over to take his place at the back.