Manta's Gift (48 page)

"It'll make it," Milligan assured her. "As long as the tether doesn't break, the probe should hold together."

"Tether ship status?" Faraday asked.

"They're getting bounced a little, but they're holding position," McCollum reported. "The winch mechanism seems to be holding up all right."

"Tell them to keep a close eye on it," Faraday ordered. "I just hope there aren't too many more of these layers down here."

"I think we'll find there's at least one more," Beach said. "Probably at the bottom of Level Eight."

"What makes you say that?" Faraday asked, frowning.

"Remember what Manta said back when he first resurfaced?" Beach reminded him. "He mentioned a special speaking layer of Level Eight."

"Of course," Milligan said suddenly. "Put a turbulence layer on either side of Level Eight, and you've got yourself a huge sonic waveguide. Just like a fiber optic cable, only for sound instead of light: The message bounces back and forth between the layers as it propagates down the mostly calm area in the middle."

"Which is how the Wise can call all around the planet but no one above them can listen in," McCollum said, nodding. "I've been wondering about that."

"Clever," Sprenkle remarked. "And it makes perfect sense that the Wise would keep that fact as secret as possible. All social power structures depend to one degree or another on good communication."

"If you don't mind, Dr. Sprenkle, let's save the sociology lecture for later," Liadof said tartly. "We have something a little more urgent on our plate right now."

"Urgent, perhaps, but nothing we can do anything about," Faraday pointed out. "At this point the probe's pretty much on its own."

"Unless we haul it out of there," Liadof retorted. "Is there something wrong with simply getting it out of there before it tears itself apart?"

"Actually, there's not much point in doing that," Sprenkle said. "From the wind pattern readings, I'd say it's already well past the halfway mark."

"And it's holding together?" Faraday asked.

"We're still getting transmissions along the tether," Milligan said with a shrug.

"There," Sprenkle said, pointing to one of the displays. "Look—it's through."

He was right, Faraday saw: The inertial indicators were settling down. "Confirmed," Milligan said. "We're back to steady westerlies again."

He looked over his shoulder at Faraday. "Do you want me to hold it here while the diagnostics check it over?"

"No, keep it moving," Faraday said. "The diagnostics can run just as well on the fly as they can stationary. Let's just hope the lower layer isn't as bad as this one."

"And hope it's the last," Liadof added. "I don't suppose you know anything about that, either, Mr. Raimey?"

Manta's tonals began rumbling through the speakers. "I don't know anything about what lies below Level Eight," the translation came.

"Of course not," Liadof said, half under her breath. "You don't know anything useful, do you?"

There was just the slightest pause. "I'm sorry my knowledge is not up to your standards," Manta said. "Colonel Faraday, can you tell
me
when you'll be sending the weapon down?"

"Give us a break, Manta," Faraday protested. "We don't even know how deep it's going to have to go yet."

"You said you already knew."

"We know how deep we
think
it should be," Faraday corrected. "But that's based on a whole collection of different density and structural assumptions."

"That's why we're sending the probe," Liadof added. "Why, are you in a hurry or something?"

"My people have a problem," Manta reminded her, his voice hardening. "We'd like it to be solved."

"And that's all there is to it?" Liadof pressed.

"I don't understand the question," Manta said.

"Then let me put it another way," Liadof said. "It occurs to me that there are only two general places where this alleged stargate of yours can be located: Either it's somewhere above the cadaver logjam, or it's somewhere below it. Does that make sense, Mr. Raimey?"

"I suppose," Manta said hesitantly. "I don't really know."

"Now, logically, it can't be below it, because apparently even dead Qanska can't go any deeper than that," Liadof continued. "Therefore, it must be above it."

She threw a hard look at Faraday. "And if it's above it, then our probe should be hitting it very soon now. Wouldn't you say, Colonel?"

All four techs had turned around to look at her. "What exactly are you suggesting, Arbiter?" Faraday asked carefully.

"I'm suggesting one of two things," Liadof said, her voice hard and cold. "Either the whole stargate story is a complete boxful of lies; or else we're about to find it ourselves, right here on our own."

She lifted her eyebrows. "In either case, one way or the other, I don't see that we need the Qanska anymore."

Faraday stared her in disbelief. She couldn't be serious. To pull something like this
now?
"I trust you're not suggesting we back out of our agreement," he said. "I've given my word.
You've
given
your
word."

"Based on a story that may not be true," Liadof countered. "Mr. Raimey was a business major. He knows the value of a contract made under false pretenses."

She raised her voice a little. "What about it, Mr. Raimey? Do you and the Qanska expect a service to be offered in return for lies?"

"It's not a lie," Manta insisted. "The pathway exists. I just don't know where."

Something pinged. "Hitting the next turbulence layer," Milligan announced, turning back to his board.

"Sorry, but I don't believe that anymore," Liadof said. "And you can tell Counselor Latranesto I said so. Unless the probe hits this supposed region of pressure and winds and multiple directions—whatever the hell
that
means—then we're just going to conclude that it doesn't exist."

Sprenkle cleared his throat. "That hardly seems fair—"

"Shut up," Liadof cut him off. "Mr. Milligan, anything odd showing up in your readings?"

"It's a little hard to tell right now," Milligan ground out. "Once the turbulence ends, I'll take a look."

"Make it a good one," Liadof ordered. "And a fast one. If this is all a lie, I want that probe brought back up before it takes any more damage."

"Just a moment," Manta called. "Counselor Latranesto has returned."

The speaker went silent. "Mr. Beach?" Liadof asked. "What's happening?"

"They've both moved off a ways from the probe," Beach replied. "Probably wanted to talk in private."

"Arbiter, you can't be serious," Faraday said, keeping his voice low. "We had a deal."

"So we did," Liadof acknowledged. "But you know as well as I do how often deals shift and change. Especially with changing circumstances."

She turned steady eyes on him. "You made me look bad in that conference room, Colonel," she said, her voice so quiet he could barely hear her. "You pushed me into a corner, with no way out except to give you what you wanted. A very effective technique, you have to admit."

She looked back at the displays. "Now, it's my turn."

Faraday stared at her, feeling like he'd been slapped across the mouth with a live electrical wire. "Is
that
what this is about?" he demanded. "Your pride?"

"Call it what you want," she said, turning back to the displays. "Mr. Beach?"

"They're coming back," Beach reported.

"Good," Liadof said. "Mr. Milligan, are we through the turbulence yet?"

"Just coming out of it," Milligan muttered.

"Excellent," she said. "I'm waiting, Mr. Raimey. Convince me all of you are worth my trouble."

A deeper and highly agitated-sounding set of tonals began rumbling through the speaker. "This is Counselor Latranesto," the translation came. "You cannot do this. Not now."

"I'm sorry, Counselor," Liadof said. "But I don't deal with liars."

"I'm not a liar," Latranesto insisted. "It's simply that you won't find the pathway here along Centerline."

"I'm afraid I don't believe you," Liadof said flatly. "Ms. McCollum, signal the tether ship to prepare to reel in the probe. We're finished here."

"Wait," Latranesto all but pleaded. "You believed me before. Why won't you believe me now?"

"Because I've had time to do some thinking," Liadof said. "Most of your people congregate along Centerline. Logically, the only reason for them to do that is if that's where they came out of this so-called pathway of yours. Therefore, if it's not on Centerline, it doesn't exist."

"Of course we came out along Centerline," Latranesto said. "That's how it always is, according to the stories. But that doesn't mean that's where the pathway begins."

"Then where is it?" Liadof asked softly. "Prove it's not a lie."

There was a desperate, wordless rumble. "The pathway begins in the farthest north," Latranesto said. "Where all directions meet."

"You mean at the north pole?" Faraday asked.

"More likely magnetic north," Liadof said. "The Qanska use Jupiter's magnetic field to help navigate, don't they, Ms. McCollum?"

McCollum sighed. "Yes."

"Very good," Liadof said. All the firmness and indignation had vanished from her voice without a trace, leaving something almost genteel in its place. "Thank you, Counselor Latranesto."

"So what happens now?" Faraday demanded, the bitter taste of defeat in his mouth. So Liadof had won. At the last second, she'd kicked all their carefully negotiated agreements aside and forced the Qanska to give in to her.

"What happens now?" Liadof echoed, lifting her eyebrows at him. "We continue the mission, of course. Ms. McCollum, tell the ship to get the probe moving again."

"Which direction?" McCollum asked, frowning back at her.

"Down, of course," Liadof said, as if it was obvious. "Let's find out where this logjam is we have to break up."

Faraday blinked. "Excuse me?"

"What part of it don't you understand?" Liadof asked, clearly enjoying his confusion. "We made a deal with the Qanska. We're going to carry that deal through."

"But you just—"

"I'm an Arbiter of the Five Hundred," she reminded him evenly. "My job is to make deals, and to negotiate, and to find common ground. But mostly, it's to make sure Earth gets what it wants."

"And now you've got it," Faraday said. "So...?"

"You really don't understand, do you?" Liadof gestured toward the displays. "I have no problem with keeping deals, Colonel, or for delivering payment promised for value received."

She smiled tightly. "I just want to have my half of the deal delivered first."

"I see," Faraday said. "So you pushed the Qanska into a corner of your own. You made a promise, then threatened to withhold it."

"The System gets what it wants; the Qanska get what they want," Liadof said calmly. "By definition, everyone is happy. I frankly don't see what your problem is."

Faraday gazed at her, torn between disgust and pity. "No," he said. "I don't suppose you do."

She snorted. "Carry on, Colonel. Let's get this taken care of." Turning, she left the room.

The techs were looking back at him again. Or maybe they were staring after Liadof; Faraday wasn't sure which. "Manta?" he called. "Did you hear all that?"

"Yes," Manta said, his voice cautious. "I'm not sure I understand it, though."

"It means the trouble at this end is over," Faraday said. "Arbiter Liadof's managed to satisfy her wounded professional pride, and the deal's back in place."

"You're sure about that?"

"It was never really in doubt," Faraday told him firmly. "One way or another, I would have made it work."

"Of course," Manta murmured. "When will you be sending the weapon? Soon?"

In a hurry to get it done, no doubt, just in case Liadof took a fancy to renege again. Faraday couldn't really blame him. "As soon as possible," Faraday assured him. "We need to confirm the location of the logjam and make sure the weapon is armored enough to handle the pressure. They're already working on that last part. If the probe makes it down there all right, I'd guess we'll be ready to move in a week or two. Possibly sooner."

"Partly it depends on how fast you can clear the Qanska out of that area," Milligan added. "Even living with radiation all the time the way you do, I can't imagine a blast like this being very healthy for you."

"Though you never know," McCollum added. "It may create all sorts of interesting metabolic stimuli. We might get a surge of these alternate forms in the next Qanskan generation."

"Yes," Manta said, almost as if talking to himself. "The pressure will be the most difficult part, I suppose."

Apparently Manta's thoughts were still back on the question of the weapon's deployment. "Probably," Faraday agreed. "But that turbulence will be a kicker, too. I see now why only the Wise ever make it to Level Eight, and why predators never make it at all. You'd need a lot of strength to get through that top layer."

"Strength is important," Manta agreed, almost absently. "But it's mostly a matter of size alone. With enough extra weight, even a Breeder could probably get through."

"You'd better not tell anyone else that," Sprenkle warned dryly. "The Wise probably wouldn't like it if their private retirement community was suddenly turned into a weekend resort."

"Don't worry, I won't say anything," Manta said. "You'll be lowering the weapon on a tether, I presume?"

"That's the plan," Faraday said, frowning. There was something suddenly odd about Manta's voice, something he couldn't quite place. "Given the turbulence, I doubt a free-swimming system would ever make it where we wanted it to go."

"Yes," Manta murmured. "Continue, then. You'll keep us informed?"

"Of course," Faraday said, frowning a little harder. He didn't have to have Sprenkle's degree in psychology to know that something had just happened inside Manta's mind. Something important.

The question was, what?

He had no idea. But as he glanced around at the techs, he noticed that Beach, too, seemed to be frowning oddly at his control board. Either Beach had had the same epiphany, or else he had some private trouble of his own.