by Timothy Zahn
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.
Technically, of course, he wasn't even supposed to be here on Level One. Under the circumstances, though, he didn't expect the Protectors would complain about being offered extra help—
Abruptly, a startled jolt ran though him. He had been heading up toward the back of the attack line, hadn't he? At least, that was what he'd intended to do.
So why was he instead skimming close in to the surface of the cage, heading directly toward the impact line?
He flipped his fins and tail, trying to change direction. But to his stunned disbelief, he found himself speeding up instead. He tried again, and again. But nothing he could do made the slightest bit of difference. Somehow, he had lost all control of his body.
He was still trying to figure it out when he swam directly into the path of one of the attacking Protectors.
The Protector hit him just in front of his tails, the impact spinning him around and sending a flash of pain through his side. "Look out, you fool Breeder!" the Protector snapped. His momentum dissipated by the collision, he skidded past Raimey and bumped harmlessly against the mesh. "Get out of the way!"
Raimey would have given anything to do just that. But to his horror, he instead found himself cutting a tight circle and moving directly into the path of the next Protector. This one managed to veer mostly out of the way, merely scraping against Raimey's belly as he shot past. But the dodging had ruined his aim, sending him bouncing off the more flexible part of the mesh.
"What are you doing?" someone shouted. "Get out of the way!"
"I can't," Raimey said, his voice shaking with the beginnings of panic. "I can't control—"
He gasped, the rest of the protest cut off as the wind was knocked out of him. His rogue body had leaped into the path of yet another Protector, with the same results as the first two times. His vision hazed over, the images of Protector and machine wavering....
"—out!" someone shouted right into his ear.
Raimey started, snapping back to full consciousness as something began beating at his body. A group of Protectors had surrounded him and were nudging him none too gently away from the cage. "Come on, get out," the Protector ordered again.
"I'm trying," Raimey gasped. He was, too, as hard as he could. But it was no use. He could still feel his body; every touch, every ache and pain. But as far as muscle control was concerned, he might as well have been watching someone else entirely.
"What do you think you're doing?" the Protector snarled. They had shoved him away from the cage now, but Raimey's body was still perversely trying to force its way back. "You think this is a game?"
"No, of course not," Raimey panted, wishing desperately he could explain but knowing that the others wouldn't understand. They probably did think he was playing some game, that he was too stupid to see what was going on here.
He could hardly blame them. It was exactly as if he'd suddenly changed sides and become a blocker for the rival team.
Abruptly, he stiffened. A blocker for the rival team...
The humans.
And suddenly it all fell together. That sundark swim he'd taken in his sleep right after the Song of Change, when Faraday had first revealed what his true mission was on Jupiter. The Qanskan equivalent of sleepwalking, he'd assumed at the time.
But now he knew the truth. The subvocalization system wasn't the only thing the humans had built into his brain before sending him down here.
They'd also set up a remote control. And like a living puppet, they were using him against the Qanska.
The Contact Room had gone very quiet. The three techs sat stiffly at their stations, clearly hating the whole thing even as they carried out Liadof's orders. Liadof was silent, too, though hers was the silence of focus and anticipation.
And as for himself, Faraday was silent with the agony of fury and despair.
It was barbaric. That was the only word for it. To strip a person of his dignity and the use of his body this way was bad enough. But to then turn him against the people he'd lived with for nearly five years was utterly indefensible.
And it marked the end of any chance Raimey might ever have of fitting in with Qanskan society. However this ended, whether Liadof got what she wanted or not, Raimey was already as good as dead.
It was too high a price to pay. Too high for a stardrive; too high even if the Qanska had held the cure to some horrible plague. Nothing could justify what Liadof was doing.
What Faraday, by his silent acquiescence back when the McCarthy setup was first proposed, had helped give her the power to do.
"Where is he?" Liadof demanded. She was leaning forward in her chair, her eyes darting back and forth between the various displays. "He's gone off-camera. Where is he?"
"Don't worry, he's not doing anything," Milligan muttered. "The Protectors are just pushing him away. They've gotten him underneath and behind the cage where there aren't any cameras."
"I want to see him," Liadof said. "What about that other spy probe, the one that's been following him?"
"I thought the idea was to keep that one far enough away that he wouldn't know it was there," Milligan reminded her.
"That doesn't matter anymore," Liadof told him. "Bring it in. I want to see what's going on. And get him back in there. I want him blocking again."
"They're not going to let him," Faraday told her, fighting to keep his voice under control. What was she trying to do, goad the rest of the Qanska into beating Raimey to death right in front of her? "Can't you just leave him alone?"
"He'll be left alone when he's finished his job," Li
adof told him tartly. "Right now, that job is to convince those Protectors that their attack is a waste of effort. That will facilitate our negotiating position when the Leaders get here."
"Why not just keep Omega moving instead?" Faraday asked. "You've got plenty of spare fuel. Keep it moving and the Protectors won't be able to mount a serious attack."
"I don't want to risk running out of fuel before we can get to wherever they've hidden their stardrive," Liadof said. "Mr. Beach, why isn't Raimey back in the firing line?"
"As Colonel Faraday said, the Protectors pushed him away," Beach said.
"Are they still on top of him?" Liadof demanded. "Well? Are they?"
"Not at the moment," Beach said grudgingly. "But I think Drusni is coming over to talk to him."
"Never mind her," Liadof growled. "Just get him moving."
Beach seemed to sigh. "Yes, Arbiter," he said, reaching again for the McCarthy panel.
"And put them on the speaker," she added. "I want to hear what they're talking about."
Finally, thankfully, the battering of the Protectors trailed off into silence. Raimey shook himself once, his whole body throbbing with pain at the movement, before turning carefully to look around him.
All that shoving had ended up pushing him well beneath the cage. Rolling onto his back, he looked up.
Directly above, the forest of spikes were pointed down at him. Beyond that, up along the side, he could see the Protectors continuing their attack. And between him and them he could see the group of Protectors who had driven him away, hurrying back to their places in line.
He rolled over onto his belly; and it was only then that his dazed mind caught on to the fact that he was back in control of his body again. Somehow, the humans' control over him had been broken.
That, or they'd simply decided he was of no further use and had tossed him aside.
Something bumped against his side, sending a ripple of pain through the already tender skin and muscle. He tensed, waiting for another round of Protector beatings—
"Manta, what were you doing?" Drusni demanded. "You weren't helping them—you were stopping them."
"I know," Raimey said, shying away from her touch.
And not just because of the pain. He had betrayed her. He had betrayed everyone. All he wanted now was to turn and run, as fast as possible, as far away as possible.
To run, and hide, and then to die. There was nothing else left for him now.
"What happened?" she asked. There was no anger in her voice, or accusation either. Only bewilderment and fear and concern.
"I don't know," he said with a tired sigh. "All of a sudden, I couldn't control myself. All I can think of is that the humans must have put something in my brain to control me."
"But how could they do that?" Drusni asked. "The parts of your brain and spinal chord that were once human were replaced by your Qanskan body a long time ago."
Raimey stared at her in astonishment. "How did you know about that?"
She hunched her fins. "I've learned a lot about you in the past one and a half dayherds, Manta," she said quietly. "After you... left... I made it part of my life to talk to everyone who knew about you. I even got Counselor Latranesto to come up to Level Four and talk with me."
She stroked his fin gently. "I never realized just what you went through to be a part of our lives. Will you forgive me for whatever I may have done to hurt you?"
Raimey took a deep breath, the last core of painful hardness in his heart melting away. "You don't have anything to apologize for," he told her. "All of it was my overreaction. When you told me about you and Pranlo—I'm sorry, Drusni. I didn't mean to hurt you. I just—"
"It's all right," she said softly. "You're my friend, Manta. You always have been. You always will be."
Faraday let out a quiet sigh. Not until that moment did he realize just how heavily the rift between Raimey and Drusni had been weighing on him for the past eighteen months. "At least that's resolved," he murmured.
"I'm deeply touched," Liadof growled. "Mr. Beach, why isn't he moving?"
"I thought we could at least let them have a couple of minutes together," Beach said hesitantly.
"Did I authorize a couple of minutes of togetherness?" Liadof snapped. "Or did I give you a direct order to the contrary?"
"A few minutes isn't going to make any difference, Arbiter," Faraday put in. The thought of yanking Raimey away from such a personal moment and throwing him back into the fight...
"And the Protectors aren't making any progress against the cage," Milligan added. "There's plenty of time."
"Well, isn't this precious," Liadof said contemptuously, looking around the room. "Closet romantics, the whole lot of you."
Faraday felt his face flush with warmth. "This isn't a matter of romanticism—"
"But we're not here to smile and cry with Raimey and his girlfriend," Liadof cut him off. "We're here to free humanity from this Solar System. Anyone who can't remember that is free to return to his quarters. Is that clear?"
No one spoke. "Good," she said. "Now. Any new damage to the cage, Mr. Milligan?"
"None registering," Milligan reported sullenly.
"What about the spy probe?" she asked. "Is it in position to observe yet?"
"Mostly," he confirmed, peering at another bank of displays. "It's still a little far, but we can keep an eye on Raimey with it."
"Then switch Omega's sensors to long-range mode," Liadof instructed him. "See if you can spot any sign of the Counselors and Leaders."
She turned to Beach. "And you, Mr. Beach, get Raimey moving."
Raimey's first warning was the sudden light-headedness and the glazing over of his vision. "Oh, no," he breathed. "It's happening again. I can feel it starting."
"You can't let them do this to you," Drusni insisted. "You have to stop them."
"How?" Raimey pleaded. "How can I fight it when I don't even know how they're doing it?"
"Well, how could they be doing it?" Drusni said. "You know how your people do things. Is it some kind of thing like that?" She flipped her tails up toward the probe and cage.
Something electronic? "I suppose so," Raimey said doubtfully. "I mean, it has to be something like that. But you're right; my whole brain has changed since I got here. Unless it was specially designed to work with Qanskan biochemistry."
"I don't know what those words mean," Drusni said. "But there must be a way to stop it."
"No," Raimey said. He could hear his voice trembling now. "Putting wires and microequipment into someone's brain is a complicated business. If they went to that much trouble, they'd have made sure I couldn't break out of it."
"I can't accept that," Drusni said firmly. "Please, Manta. Please. You have to find a way."
And then, as if coming from the clouds above, Raimey heard a voice. A vaguely familiar voice, speaking in soft tonals as if fearful of being overheard.
"It's all in your mind, Raimey. It's all in your mind."
"It is all part of your thoughts, Raimey," the translation came over the Contact Room speaker. "It is all part of your thoughts."
"What the hell?" Liadof barked, leaping to her feet. "Who said that? Who said that?"
No one answered. No one even moved. "Hands in the air," she ordered, striding up to the curved control board, her eyes darting back and forth between the techs. "I said hands in the air, away from your boards. Now!"
"Arbiter, what's the matter with you?" Faraday cut in, scrambling to his feet. "Those were Qanskan tonals."
"And whoever it was called him Raimey, Colonel," she snarled back. "None of the Qanska ever call him that. Someone here sent him that message, translated through the computer."
Faraday winced. He'd hoped she wouldn't pick up on that. "I can't see what difference it can possibly make—"
"Dr. Sprenkle," Liadof said, her voice suddenly glacially calm. "Your microphone switch is on."
Sprenkle didn't say a word. His hands still held up in the air, he stood up and turn
ed to face her. "Guard," Liadof said, her voice still quiet as she beckoned to one of the Sanctum cops. "Take him to the station brig. The charge is treason."
"What?" Faraday demanded. "You can't be serious."
"Ms. McCollum clearly acted under your orders, Colonel," Liadof said as the cop stepped forward, pulling a set of wristcuffs from one of his belt pouches. "Dr. Sprenkle just as clearly did not. The charge is treason."
"I protest," Faraday said sharply as the cop pulled Sprenkle's arms behind his back and secured them. "This is illegal, and I will not stand for it."
"You do whatever you want," Liadof bit out. "The charge stands. Take him away."
Silently, the two men headed for the door. As he passed Faraday, Sprenkle's eyes flicked sideways, just for an instant, to meet his. Faraday opened his mouth, wondering what he was going to say—
Sprenkle's eyes flicked away again. Still in silence, he and the cop left the room.
"Now," Liadof said, her quiet voice filling the stunned emptiness like a mass of subzero air. "Mr. Beach, if you please. Get him moving."
Beach took a deep breath. "Yes, Arbiter," he said. "Right away."
EIGHTEEN
"It's all in your mind, Raimey. It's all in your mind."
"It's all in your mind?" Drusni echoed, sounding bewildered. "What does that mean?"
"I don't know," Raimey said slowly, thinking furiously. That had been Sprenkle's voice, he recognized now. And from the flurry of angry conversation he could vaguely hear in the background, it seemed that someone up on Prime wasn't at all happy with the psychologist for saying it.
Which meant it was some kind of clue. Possibly even a clue to this control they had over him.
But what?
He growled under his breath, wishing to the Deep that Sprenkle hadn't tried to be so coy with his hint. He'd probably hoped whoever was in charge would miss the significance of it. But from the shouting that had followed, clearly that had been a waste of effort.
But just as clearly, he'd expected Raimey to get the message. It's all in your mind. It's all in your...
