by Timothy Zahn
But now, with Virtamco to compare him against, Raimey realized that Tigrallo had been far more than just a keeper saddled with unpleasant duty. He'd been an adviser, and a guardian, and a companion.
And a friend.
"Yes?" Virtamco prompted impatiently. "Speak up, Breeder Manta."
"Counselor Latranesto said you would teach me those aspects of being a Qanska that I don't yet know," Raimey reminded him. "Well, there's something I need to know."
"Now?" Virtamco said, looking pointedly around at the gathering gloom. "Can't it wait until sunlight?"
"I don't think so," Raimey said. "I mean, no, it can't." He braced himself. "I need you to teach me the courtship ritual."
For a long moment Virtamco just stared at him. "You want what?" he asked at last, his tonals practically vibrating the sky with disbelief.
"I need you to teach me the courtship ritual," Raimey repeated, an uncomfortable feeling beginning to chew its way into his hopes and dreams. Virtamco's expression.... "Counselor Latranesto said you would teach me—"
"Are you making a bad joke?" Virtamco demanded.
Raimey jerked back. "No," he said. "No. But Latranesto said—"
"Why, you arrogant, foul-minded, little profaner," Virtamco bit out. "How dare you even think such a thing?"
Raimey had to fight hard to keep from flipping over and swimming away as fast as he possibly could. The sheer weight of the other's disapproval was like being hit in the face by a slashing wind swirl. "I— I—" he stammered.
"Get out of my sight," Virtamco roared, slapping his tails across his fins like he was trying to sweep something disgusting off of them. "Get away, you—you half-breed." He lunged at Raimey, his jaws snapping—
And with his soul wailing inside him, Raimey turned and fled.
He didn't know how long he swam, or even in what direction. All he could see was Virtamco's scandalized face; all he could hear was that horrible, condemning word.
Half-breed.
He would have cried if Qanska had been capable of tears. Half-breed. Because the Protector was right; that was exactly what he was. A half-Qanska, half-human mongrel. A scientifically created perversion of nature.
A monster.
And he'd dared to think Drusni would actually bond with him? Not only was he a monster, he was also a fool.
"Manta!" a voice called from somewhere behind him.
He tensed, his headlong rush suddenly faltering. That voice. Could it really be...?
No. His ears, and his mind, were playing tricks on him.
"Manta, wait up."
He turned around... and if his ears and mind were playing tricks, so were his eyes.
It was Drusni.
"Crosswinds, but you're fast," she panted as she came up to him. "What's going on? Another message from the people in the clouds?"
"No, I—" Raimey broke off, swallowing hard. This was it. He didn't know the proper methods, or the proper words, or the proper anything. But this was his chance. Maybe his only chance. "Drusni... look, I don't know how to say this. I wish... but I don't. Maybe it doesn't matter."
She had gone very still. "Yes?" she asked softly.
Raimey braced himself. "Drusni... will you... will you bond with me?"
For a long moment she hovered motionlessly, only her fin tips undulating slowly to hold her position in the air. "Wow," she murmured at last. "I don't know what to..."
She took a deep breath. Raimey, for his part, held his. "I'm flattered, Manta," she said softly. "I really am. You're a wonderful person, and a good friend. We've been together a long time, and I love you a lot. If things were different..."
She stopped. "It's all right," Raimey said, feeling a hundred razor-edged Sivran teeth poised at the edges of his heart. "Go ahead."
She moved closer, resting her fin gently on top of his. "But the truth of it is," she said, the words coming out in a rush, "I've already agreed to bond with Pranlo."
Raimey turned away from her. Turned away from that earnest look; eased his skin away from that agonizingly warm touch. "Of course," he managed. "I should have guessed. Congratulations. Or whatever it is you say here."
"I'm sorry, Manta," Drusni said gently, and he could hear some of his own pain echoed in her voice. "Really." She moved up close behind him and again laid her fin across his.
And as all those phantom Sivran teeth chewed their path of destruction across his heart, something inside him snapped. "Don't touch me," he snarled, slapping her fin violently away from his. "You're happy. Wonderful. Be happy. But be happy somewhere else."
"Please, Manta, don't do this," she pleaded. "If there was any other way—"
"But there isn't, is there?" he snarled. The pain in her voice was twisting though his heart, doubling the agony there. But he no longer cared about pain, or her, or himself. "So go. Go and be happy with Pranlo."
"Manta—"
"I said go!" he thundered, spinning around to glare at her. "I don't ever want to see you again. Ever!"
For a single heartpulse their eyes locked. The last view of those lovely eyes, Raimey knew, that he would ever have.
And then, with a choking sob, she flipped around and drove blindly away into the sundark.
He stared for a long time in the direction she had gone. Perhaps she would return, one last tendril of hope whispered to him. Perhaps after a time she would decide that he was the one she loved the most, and she would say good-bye to Pranlo.
But she didn't come back. As he'd known she wouldn't.
Eventually, he shook himself back to reality. The ninth-parts of the sundark were passing quickly, and soon all those in this part of Jupiter's sky would awaken and begin the day's activities.
He intended to be long gone before that happened.
He dove deep, not leveling off until he was nearly to the bottom of Level Four, as deep as he could force his body to go. Then, turning his left ear into the winds, he headed northward. Most of the Qanska, he knew, kept to the equatorial region of the planet, riding with the winds. Away from that relatively narrow band, there was a lot of unknown and presumably unexplored territory. Plenty of room to lose himself in.
And the sundark hadn't been a total waste. At least now he knew exactly what he was, and how he was perceived. And with that revelation, he also knew what his priorities had to be.
Hesse and Faraday had better get their lab tables cleared off and ready to go. Because one way or another, he was going to get them that stardrive.
And to the Deep with the Qanska. All of them.
ELEVEN
The Protector was a big one, nearly twice as long as Raimey, with a skin that was so lumpy and scarred he was almost unrecognizable as a Qanska. Clearly, he'd been in a lot of fights throughout his lifetime.
And unless Raimey did something quick, he was going to be in one more.
"I asked you a question, Breeder," the Protector rumbled warningly. "What in Pakra worms do you think you're doing in my drokmur patch?"
"I'm sorry, Protector," Raimey said, fighting to control the trembling in his voice. The shaking wasn't so much fear—though there was some of that, too—but simple hunger. He hadn't found anything to eat in the past four days, and his whole body was starting to shake in reaction.
And of course, now that he had finally found food, he'd also found a crazed Protector who seemed to think he owned it.
Which was blatantly unlawful, of course. But here, several ninedays' journey north of the equator and the center of Qanskan culture and authority, laws were apparently only followed when it was convenient.
"Well?" the Protector demanded. "What are you waiting for?"
"I'm very hungry, sir," Raimey said, the trembling even worse now. Simple hunger; but of course, the Protector would assume it was fear.
And why on Jupiter should he bother to give away any of his precious drokmur to a Breeder who was obviously scared to death of him?
Apparently, the Protector couldn't think of a reason, either. "Then go fi
nd yourself some food," the other growled. "But do it somewhere else. Now go away, or I'll give you more than just your belly to worry about."
Raimey thought longingly of the days with Tigrallo, or even those with Virtamco. If he'd had a Protector of his own here to back him up...
But he didn't. And there was no point in arguing the point any further. With a sigh, he flipped over and swam slowly away. Okay, he told himself firmly. Just a little setback. That's all. Just a little setback.
But the pep talk didn't help. Mainly because lately, it seemed, life had become nothing but a continuing series of setbacks.
It hadn't always been so. The first dayherd had been decent enough, once he'd gotten used to the solitude. He'd had to outfight or outrun quite a few predators along the way, and had turned a small Vuuka and two more Sivra into distended lumps on various parts of his body and fins. But the food supplies had been plentiful enough, and there had been other Qanska swimming around to talk to when the loneliness became too much to bear. That potential for companionship, even of such a brief and superficial sort, was the main reason he'd abandoned his original plan of leaving Qanskan territory entirely.
But now, midway through his second dayherd, things seemed to be on a downward dive. The food supplies had been slowly but steadily dwindling, at least the ones he could find, with more and more Qanska nudging or bullying or flat-out chasing him away from it. As his body grew heavier, and he ranged lower and lower into the atmosphere, the resident Qanska seemed to grow less and less friendly and hospitable, particularly to strangers. It was almost as if, once the breeding stage was passed, the Qanska out here had gathered into informal herds again.
Or maybe it was like that everywhere, even back at the equator. There was so much he still didn't know.
But for this particular ninepulse, academic curiosity was definitely somewhere way back in the slipstream. Food was the top priority, and he wasn't finding any. Perhaps, as his old business school buddies used to say, it was time for Option B.
Trouble was, there was no Option B.
True, he could continue on northward as he'd originally planned and try to leave Qanskan territory behind. But that would require him to become a complete hermit, and he'd already discovered he wasn't wired for that kind of life.
Or he could head up to Level One, avoiding the herds and their Protectors, and try to contact Jupiter Prime. But they'd want to know why he'd been silent for so long, and he absolutely didn't want to talk to them about what had happened. Anyway, there wasn't a whole lot of anything they could do for him.
Or he could go back, cross the equator the other direction, and see if life in the southern areas was any better than it was here in the north. But that would mean passing through the center of Qanskan activity, and Latranesto probably had every Breeder and Protector and Counselor down there on the lookout for him. If he wasn't ready for a lecture from Hesse and Faraday, he sure as the Deep wasn't ready for one from Latranesto.
Besides, somewhere back there in the equatorial region Pranlo and Drusni were swimming along together. And seeing them right now would very likely kill him.
He sighed again, the dull ache within him throbbing to life again. Drusni. A hundred forty ninedays later, and he still hadn't gotten over her.
He probably never would. He would hold her image next to his heart, wrapped in his quiet pain, until his death.
Death. Maybe that was the only real Option B left to him. There didn't seem any real point to his life now. Better for everyone if he was just gone. Maybe the next time the Sivra attacked, he would just let them have him. Better for him. Better for everyone.
Back in that shadowy former life, back when he'd been a paralyzed human being, Faraday had talked about this being a glorious gift he and the Qanska were offering him.
Some gift.
"Falkaro giving you a hard time?" a voice asked from behind him.
Raimey spun around, startled. A large female was hovering there, bigger even than the Protector who'd chased him away from his private drokmur patch. Probably a Counselor, he guessed. Like the grouchy Protector, her skin was also studded with the lumps and distortions of past battles. "I'm sorry?" he asked. "Who is...?"
"Falkaro," she repeated, flipping her tails back in the direction Raimey had just come from. "That grouch of a Protector back there. I asked if he gave you a hard time."
"Not really, I suppose," Raimey said. "I mean, he didn't hurt me, but he wouldn't let me eat anything. Seems to think he owns all the food within swimming distance."
"Yes, you get that around here sometimes," she said with a shrug. "It's probably a lot less civilized than what you're used to."
Raimey frowned. "How do you know what I'm used to?"
"Oh, come on," she said with a smile. "Your accent gives you away. You're from the Centerline. What are you doing this far across the winds?"
"Just sort of exploring," Raimey said cautiously. Could Latranesto's all-points bulletin have reached all the way out here?
"Right," she said, her tone making it clear that she didn't believe that for a ninepulse. "But mostly, you're going hungry? Hmm? Tell me I'm wrong."
"No, you're not wrong," he admitted. "I don't suppose you'd happen to know if there's any food nearby?" He flipped a tail back toward Falkaro's private kingdom. "Unclaimed food, that is?"
"Mm," she said, looking him up and down. "I might. Tell me, how are you with pressures?"
Raimey frowned. "I can usually handle them okay. Why?"
"Well, I just happen to know where there's a very good run down on Level Five."
He grimaced. Level Five. It might as well have been on Europa. "I don't think I can get that far down."
"Yes, I figured that," she said. "But if you could get there, do you think you could handle the pressures?"
"I don't know," Raimey said, starting to feel a little annoyed. What point was there to discussing pressures if he couldn't get down there in the first place? "Probably."
"Good," she said. "Then hold still."
She swam up over his back, as if she was leaving, then stopped directly above him. "What are you doing?" he said, frowning up at her.
"I said hold still," she said, her fins rippling almost delicately as she adjusted her position. "Here we go."
And with an audible whoosh of collapsing buoyancy sacs, she began to sink.
With Raimey, held firmly in place beneath her massive fin, sinking right along with her.
"My name's Beltrenini," she said, her voice sounding oddly muffled in this position. "What's yours?"
"Uh—Raimo," Raimey improvised. Even out here, the Qanska might have heard of the strange half-human, half-Qanskan monster named Manta.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Raimilo," he corrected, remembering this time to add the extra Breeder syllable.
"Ah," she said. "Interesting name. Don't think I've ever heard it before. How come you're out here alone?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean without a mate," she said. "You're a Breeder, right? Why aren't you busy breeding?"
Raimey grimaced. "It's not something I want to talk about."
"Oh, come on," she cajoled. "I'm a Counselor, right?"
"That's purely an age thing," Raimey reminded her tartly. "It doesn't necessarily mean you've got any actual skill at counseling people."
"A little respect, there, Breeder Raimilo," she warned testily. "Maybe all I've got is age and experience; but that's already more than you have. Hmm? Tell me I'm wrong."
For a moment, Raimey was sorely tempted to rattle off a list of his achievements and knowledge, from the business and organizational classes he'd taken right up to the experience of skiing down a snowy mountain with solid ground beneath his feet. That might shut her up.
He resisted the temptation. "You're right," he said humbly. "I apologize."
"That's better," she said. "So let's hear your story. Starting with why you're not swimming with some nice female Breeder."
"I appreciate your concern," Raimey hedged, coming to a decision. Wherever she was taking him, food or no food, it wasn't worth having to float through an interrogation. He didn't even want to think about Drusni, let alone talk about her to some nosy-snouted stranger. Flexing his fins, he tried to wiggle his way free.
And to his shock, discovered that he couldn't.
He tried again, putting all his strength into it. But it was no use. He was nestled solidly into the slightly concave area where Beltrenini's fin joined her body, and they were already deep enough that his own natural buoyancy was pinning him there. And with her three-to-one size advantage, there was no way he was going to physically shove her aside.
Which meant he was helpless. Beltrenini could basically take him anywhere she wanted, however she wanted, whenever she wanted. Back to the equatorial regions, maybe, or directly to Latranesto for punishment.
Or even to his death.
His muscles tensed uselessly against the massive bulk as a horrible suspicion suddenly struck him. Beltrenini had as good as admitted that the usual Qanskan rules didn't apply out here. And it also occurred to him that he hadn't seen too many Vuuka prowling around lately.
Could she have possibly have made some sort of devil's bargain with them? After all, Earth predators were typically more intelligent than their prey. He'd never heard a hint about Vuukan intelligence; but then there was a lot the Qanska hadn't told him. Maybe they could be talked to, even bargained with.
And the simplest bargain a prey could make a predator would be to deliver food in exchange for not becoming food herself.
Could he, Raimey, be Beltrenini's latest sacrifice to them?
He wiggled again, with the same nonresults. "Hold still," Beltrenini ordered, giving a little wiggle of her own in emphasis. Raimey had a quick flash of boyhood memory: his uncle shaking him by the shoulders to get his attention when he'd been misbehaving. "This is hard enough without you flailing around like a newborn."
"Where are you taking me?" he asked tightly.
"Where do you think?" she retorted. "To get food."
Or to be food? Still, unless she wanted to risk getting bit herself, she would have to release him before the Vuuka attacked. That would give him one last chance...
