by Timothy Zahn
And with this many of them, there wouldn't be a lot of maneuvering room for him to work with. Especially given that none of the Protectors would likely be interested in helping him.
The lead Vuuka in each of the two groups had disappeared from sight now, blocked from Manta's view by the curvature of the mesh to his immediate right and left. Which meant that, for the few seconds it would take them to come around the front and back of the cage, Manta was likewise out of their sight.
Which meant it was time to go. Pushing back off the mesh, he expanded his buoyancy sacs and begin to drift slowly up the side of the cage. By movement and blood do Vuuka hunt, Counselor Latranesto had told him that first day of his life. Manta could only hope that he himself wouldn't be showing enough of either to attract them.
Both groups of predators had emerged from their respective sides of the cage now, all of them bearing straight toward him. Steady, Manta ordered himself firmly, fighting against the urge to push his fins against the air and swim away as fast as he could while he still had a head start. The lead Vuuka on the right was speeding up, his flukes pumping faster as he sensed himself closing in on the source of the blood trail he'd been following. He opened his jaws wide—
And with a triumphant roar, dug his sharp teeth into the mesh where Manta had been pressed a few ninepulses earlier.
The spot where he had left a patch of bright yellow Qanskan blood.
Liadof stiffened in her chair, her finger stabbing toward the main display. "What in the world—? What are they doing? Helping the Qanska?"
"Yes, but not on purpose," Faraday told her. "They're attacking the spot where Raimey left his blood, that's all. Or had you forgotten the historic voyage of Chippawa and Faraday?"
She twisted her head to stare at him. "What are you talking about?"
Faraday looked back at the display, a flood of personal memories flashing through his brain. The rest of the Vuuka had joined in with the first one now, all of them tearing at the metal mesh with an insane ferocity. "I'm talking about my trip into the depths of the Jovian atmosphere," he told Liadof. "Don't you remember? A Qanskan Baby—Counselor Latranesto, in fact—cut himself on our Skydiver's tether as he swam past. In the process he left some of his blood on the metal; and within seconds, a Vuuka was chewing happily away. Made damn fast work of it, too."
He gestured at the display. "And from the looks of it, this particular bunch isn't going to have much trouble with your cage, either."
"Not if I can help it," Liadof snarled. "Mr. Boschwitz, get Omega moving. Any direction, full speed."
"Acknowledged, Arbiter," the voice on the speaker said.
She hissed between her teeth. "So the Vuuka can chew," she said acidly. "Fine. Let's see if they can also swim."
It was working. By the clouds above, it was actually working.
Slowly, not daring to move too quickly, Manta rippled his fins and began easing himself around into a head-down position. He couldn't afford to attract attention, not with the Vuuka still so close. But despite the risk, he was determined to get a look at the snarling clatter of teeth on metal he could hear going on beneath him.
It was an awesome sight to behold. Awesome and frightening both. The Vuuka were going at it as if some sort of mass feeding frenzy had completely taken them over.
What was even stranger, they were showing no signs of slowing down. Manta's plan had been for them to each take a bite or two from the cage, realize their mistake, and move on, leaving the mesh hopefully weakened enough for the Protectors to batter their way through.
But that wasn't what was happening. Surely even with the taste of blood slowing their brains they could tell that this wasn't Qanskan skin and muscle and bone they were biting at. Couldn't they?
Or was it perhaps something more subtle? Could the metal actually be tastier than fresh Qanska?
Bizarre, but possible. Manta remembered one of his physiology discussions with McCollum in which the subject of blood composition had briefly come up. The memory of the conversation was a little vague, but he seemed to remember her mentioning that Qanskan blood had a high metal content, several times that of the human counterpart, and with a better variety of metal types as well. Strange though it seemed, it could be that the Vuuka knew perfectly well what they were doing, and were actually enjoying their meal.
Manta smiled grimly to himself. This was, he decided, going to kill two Sivra with one tail slash. Not only would it free the trapped Qanska, but it would also give them a weapon they could use if the humans ever tried to pull such a stunt again.
It was difficult to see what was happening in the middle of the flurry of bodies, but he knew the Vuuka had to be getting close to eating their way through the mesh. The timing here was going to be critical: It would be a sad victory indeed if the predators succeeded in breaking through the humans' cage only to then devour the children Manta had gone to all this dangerous effort to free.
The Protectors were clearly thinking along the same lines. They had gathered together a cautious distance from the manic Vuuka, talking in low voices among themselves and twitching uncertainly back and forth as they pondered the question of when to move in for the attack.
Or maybe they were waiting for Manta, with his closer vantage point, to give them a signal. Rippling his fins to hold his position, Manta focused his attention on the mesh. If the Vuuka would just keep at it until there was a hole big enough for the Breeders inside to slip out through...
And then, from above him, Manta heard a noise that froze the air in his lungs. The propellers of the probe above the cage were starting up.
The propellers that he knew could move the cage faster than a Qanska could swim. And if faster than a Qanska, faster than a Vuuka, as well?
He twisted around again to look up, heedless of the risk this time. The giant turboprop propellers were visibly spinning within their protective cowlings.
No, Manta pleaded silently, staring at the engines and trying frantically to come up with a way to stop them.
Because once the humans got the probe and cage moving, there would be no way to stop them. They could outdistance any pursuit, Qanskan or Vuukan, and keep it up until the wind had driven away all traces of Manta's blood. And when they finally brought it to a halt, there would be no one at its new resting place who would know how to pull the trick Manta had used in order to finish breaking it open.
The humans would have won. They would get the stardrive they wanted, or they would continue to trap Qanskan children until they did.
The probe and cage were starting to lumber across the wind now. Manta drove upward, his eyes searching the sleekly curved metal surfaces desperately for a weakness. But there wasn't one.
Unless...
His eyes fell on the mesh screen covering the intake side of the turboprop cowling. The mesh there was considerably finer than the one that made up the cage. Could a Qanska, swimming at top speed, ram his way through the mesh and into the propeller itself?
The thought was terrifying. In his imagination, he could see himself hitting the blades; could feel the tearing of skin and muscle and bone, a disintegration of his body far worse than even a pack of Sivra could manage.
But at least it would be fast. Faster than living the rest of a Qanskan lifetime with that last, broken image of Drusni haunting his vision wherever he looked.
The probe was picking up speed. Driving hard, he swam forward, trying to get around in front of the nearest engine's intake. He deserved to die anyway. This way, at least, his death could have a purpose.
Maybe that would be how Drusni would remember him. Maybe she could be that forgiving.
But he doubted it.
NINETEEN
The whine of Omega's turboprops was starting to fill the Contact Room as the engines revved their way toward full speed. "But what about your demands?" Faraday asked, frustration churning his stomach. If the probe got away now, all of the Qanskans' effort—not to mention Raimey's—would be for nothing.
; And this insane standoff would continue.
"What about them?" Liadof countered. "The Leaders know what we want."
"But they won't know where to deliver their answer," Faraday argued. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the inertial indicators at the bottom of the display were flashing. Omega was starting to move.
But Faraday wasn't really watching the indicators. His full attention was on the image coming from the spy probe. Darting up alongside the cage like a minnow swimming past a crab pot, Raimey was charging upward toward the operational part of the Omega probe. Swimming with a determination Faraday had seldom if ever seen in him.
And it didn't take a genius to figure out what he was doing. He was heading for Omega's engines, clearly hoping to prevent the hostages from being whisked away.
And there was only one way Faraday could imagine he might accomplish that.
Don't do it, Faraday pleaded silently with the image. It would cost Raimey his life; and it wouldn't stop Omega from getting away anyway. With one engine gone it would be more sluggish, but it could still outpace any Qanskan attackers in the long run. Surely Raimey could see that. Had he gotten so worked up by the Vuuka attack that he couldn't think straight?
Perhaps he had. Omega was picking up speed, and so was Raimey.
Liadof had noticed him, too. "What's he doing?" she muttered from Faraday's side.
"Trying to stop the probe," Faraday told her, hoping that his reading of Raimey's plan was wrong. But no. Raimey had already passed the trailing communications and control antennae, and at the rate Omega was accelerating he would never make it to the group at the bow end before the probe got away from him. And there was no other exposed equipment anywhere that Faraday could see.
Which left only the propellers. And the supreme sacrifice.
"He's going for the engines," Liadof said suddenly, her voice a mixture of disbelief and indignation. "Is there any way he can hurt them? Colonel?"
"Not without hurting himself," Faraday said bitterly. Out of another corner of his eye, he noticed Mulligan fiddling with his sensor controls. "But if he doesn't mind dying for his people, and if he can get through the forward baffle screen—"
"Damn it," Liadof bit out. "Mr. Boschwitz—get Omega up to full speed. Now."
"Yes, Arbiter," Boschwitz's voice confirmed. "I'm running the engines through their prescribed ramp-up; it'll just be—"
"I said now!" Liadof cut him off. "Full power now!"
"But—acknowledged, Arbiter," Boschwitz interrupted himself. "Full power now." The engine noise jolted suddenly up in pitch and intensity—
And then, to Faraday's astonishment, it just as suddenly dropped off completely.
Liadof literally leaped out of her chair. "Boschwitz!" she shouted. "You bungling little—" She choked back the rest of the curse. "Get them going again. Now!"
"I'm trying," Boschwitz said, his voice cringing. "They're not responding. Any of them."
"He warned you there was a proper ramp-up procedure," Faraday reminded her. "They've probably overheated or safety-locked or something."
"Shut up," Liadof snapped. "Mr. Boschwitz?"
"Still not responding," the controller said tightly. "Colonel Faraday's right—the diagnostic's indicating some kind of safety interlock."
"Then override it," Liadof ordered, striding forward to stand behind McCollum's vacant chair and peering at the diagnostic displays. "Everything can be overridden."
"Yes, ma'am, but I need to know the problem first," Boschwitz explained. "The overrides are specific to the particular interlock—"
"I don't care how you do it," Liadof shouted. "Rip them all out if you have to. But get that probe moving!"
"Too late," Milligan murmured, pointing up at the main display. "They're through."
Faraday looked at the view from the spy probe. Milligan was right: The Vuuka had chewed a hole completely through the mesh, still jostling against each other as they gnawed away at the edges. The hole was still pretty small, but already the youngest of the Qanskan children trapped inside should be able to squeeze through.
"Yes, well, they're not through enough," Liadof said tartly, an odd note creeping into her voice. It was an edge that in a lesser personality might be the first beginnings of panic. "Mr. Boschwitz, you have thirty seconds to get Omega moving. If you don't, I'll have you arrested on a charge of treason."
"Don't be absurd," Faraday said, keeping his voice low. "You can't blame him for this."
"I can blame anyone I want," Liadof said shortly. "I'm an Arbiter of the Five Hundred. This is my project; and it will not fail."
She turned bitter eyes toward Faraday. "Or else."
Above him, the huge driving engines suddenly stopped.
Manta slowed the rippling of his fins, letting himself coast to a confused stop. Was he misreading the sounds here?
No. The engines had stopped, the probe itself coasting to a halt.
What in the Deep were the humans up to now?
He didn't have the haziest idea. But it didn't matter. This was their opportunity to get the children and Breeders out, and he intended to take it.
He rolled over and looked down. From his distance and angle it was hard to tell, but it looked like the Vuuka had succeeded in eating through the metal cage. If the humans would be considerate enough to leave their engines off just a little longer...
A movement to the side caught his eye. A group of perhaps twenty Protectors had gathered a short distance away and were starting to drift toward the thrashing Vuuka. "Wait," Manta called, hoping the Vuuka were too busy to pay attention to him. "Not yet."
"Don't worry," a gruff voice came from his right. "They know what they're doing."
Manta turned, to find a Protector floating beside him. "What?"
"I said they know what they're doing," the other repeated, his eyes on the feeding frenzy below. "They'll wait until the opening is large enough for all inside to escape before they drive the Vuuka away."
"Good," Manta said, frowning. Maybe it was just that the Protector was concentrating so hard on the events below; but somehow, Manta had the distinct impression he was deliberately not looking at him. "Who are you, anyway?"
"The question is who are you?" the Protector countered, still not raising his eyes. "You, Manta, child of the humans."
So that was it. Someone had recognized him, or else they'd heard Drusni call him by name.
And he was in for it now.
"I am indeed a child of the humans," Manta said, keeping his voice low. "But my childhood is over. Now, I'm a Breeder of the Qanska."
"Are you?" the Protector retorted. "Does a Breeder of the Qanska help the humans capture our children?"
"The humans had me under their control," Manta told him. "They made me try to stop you from freeing the children. But that's over now."
"Perhaps," the Protector said darkly. "Or perhaps they have let you go merely so that they can use you to another purpose."
"A purpose that involved letting me ruin their plan?" Manta asked, flipping his tails pointedly at the dark shape and huge engines above them. "This device cost them a great deal of time and effort to construct; and as you may have noticed, I was the one who lured the Vuuka who are busily destroying it. There's no reason they wouldn't have stopped me from doing that if they still had the power to do so."
"Perhaps there was no reason," the Protector said. "Perhaps it was simply the random whistling of the wind. Or are humans not subject to the winds?"
"Trust me, they would have," Manta assured him. "Humans have a reason for everything they do."
"Do they really?" the Protector demanded. "And what was their reason for you to shatter the honor and life of a bonded female by mating with her?"
In the past few ninepulses Manta had almost managed to forget about that. Now, it came rushing back like the edge of a twistwind. "It wasn't like that," he said through suddenly aching throats. "It was... I can't completely explain what happened."
For a lon
g moment the Protector remained silent. "You don't need to discuss it with me," he said at last. "I'd rather you not, in fact. But be assured, you will discuss it soon. You've committed a crime of violence and disgrace, and the Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise will be required to pass judgment."
"Yes," Manta said quietly. "I understand."
"But until then—" the Protector flipped his tails "—it's time for action."
Manta looked. The group of Protectors who'd been standing by to the side weren't standing by anymore. They were in full charge, driving their way toward the Vuuka at the cage.
"The opening must be large enough," the other Protector said, rippling himself into motion. "Wait here. We'll drive off the Vuuka."
"I'm coming with you," Manta said, pushing off the wind into his wake.
"No," the Protector snapped, half turning around. "You're a Breeder, and you've violated the law enough times today already. Now wait here."
Manta sighed and let his fins come to a halt. "Very well," he said quietly. "I obey."
"Damn it all," Liadof ground out between her teeth, her thin hands balled into thin fists in her frustration. "They're getting away. Boschwitz, they're getting away."
"I'm sorry, Arbiter," Boschwitz's voice came back, the words edged with his own frustration. "I can't get this damn thing to clear. The error messages keep shifting back and forth, like we've got two or three separate faults, all of them intermittent."
Liadof spat out a set of jawbreaker syllables; some blistering Russian curse, no doubt. Not that Faraday could really blame her. With their attention fixed on the cage, the Vuuka had been caught completely by surprise by the massed Qanskan charge. Even worse, at least from the Arbiter's point of view, chewing on the hard metal that way had apparently been exhausting to even Vuukan jaw muscles. Disorganized and too tired to fight back, the predators had quickly scattered before the attack.
The three Breeders inside the cage had been ready. Even as the last two Vuuka were being butted away by the Protectors, the first of the Qanskan children had been sent swimming out through the hole, his fins flapping with nervous haste as he passed bare meters away from one of his deadliest enemies. A Protector had intercepted him and ushered him away to safety, clearing the path for the next child in line to make her break for freedom.
