by Timothy Zahn
The last of the children were out of the cage now, and the first Breeder had begun the more cautious maneuvering necessary to ease her larger bulk through the hole.
And Faraday could finally breathe a silent sigh of relief. Liadof's scheme had seriously damaged relations with the Qanska, and it was going to take some fancy talk and footwork on someone's part to heal that breach.
But not nearly as much as it would have taken if that same someone had had to do all his talking while a group of Qanska were being held hostage somewhere in the wilds of the Jovian atmosphere.
And all because the normally perverse demon of equipment glitches had chosen for once to smile on them. A simple interlock fault, plus a lot of ingenuity on Raimey's part, and Liadof was going to have to back out with her tail between her legs. For want of a nail, the old line echoed through his mind—
"Mr. Milligan," Liadof said suddenly. "What are those red lights on your board?"
"Excuse me?" Milligan said, frowning down at his board.
"Lift your hands," Liadof ordered, taking a step toward him. "Keep them away from the controls."
"I don't understand," Milligan said, his hands reluctantly coming up.
"I think you do," Liadof said icily, bending over for a closer look. "Mr. Boschwitz, what does 'proximity sensor lockdown' mean?"
"What?" Boschwitz asked. "Where?"
"All over Mr. Milligan's board," Liadof said. "What does it mean?"
Boschwitz hissed into the speaker. "It means we've found the problem," he said darkly. "One of the standard safety interlocks is that if a proximity sensor shows you up against something solid, you can't move that direction without an override. By overloading the whole batch of them, he's tweaked it so that they're all showing something solid. You can't go anywhere; ergo, the engines shut down to standby."
"Why didn't you override it?"
"Because the glitch kept changing," Boschwitz growled. "He must have been alternating between different sensor-group overloads to keep me from ever catching up with the right one. Keep his hands away from his board and I can get Omega moving."
Liadof looked up at the display. "It's too late," she said, her voice ominously quiet. "Go ahead and do the overrides and bring Omega back up to reel-in position. No hurry."
"Yes, Arbiter."
Liadof gazed down at Milligan. "Mr. Milligan. Do you have anything to say?"
Milligan folded his arms across his chest. "Not really."
She nodded as if that was the answer she'd been expecting. Shifting her gaze to the doorway, she hooked a finger in invitation to the remaining Sanctum cop. "Escort Mr. Milligan to the brig. And while you're at it, you can take Colonel Faraday back to his quarters. The show's over."
She looked at Faraday. "For now," she added.
Silently, Milligan stood up and walked toward the approaching guard. For a moment Liadof watched him go, her eyes betraying nothing of what was going on inside her. The cop reached Milligan and began to cuff him; and as he did so, Liadof turned around to face the sole remaining tech seated at the curved control board. "Or shall we go ahead and make it a clean sweep, Mr. Beach?" she invited.
Beach's lips compressing briefly. "I'd rather not, Arbiter," he said firmly. "I like my job. I'll stay."
She studied his profile briefly, then nodded. "Very well, Mr. Beach. Carry on."
She turned back to Faraday. "This isn't over yet, Colonel. But we'll speak about that later."
"I'm sure we will," Faraday said, standing up calmly as the Sanctum cop motioned him to his feet. When push comes to crunch, he'd asked Sprenkle after that fateful meeting in his quarters a week and a half ago, are they going to stand with me?
He had his answer now. They would. And they had.
Or at least most of them had.
Beach had returned his attention to his board, giving Faraday a view of a studiously calm profile. Still, three of the four had stood with him. That was a number he could be proud of. If he ever found a way out of this mess, he promised himself, he would make sure they were rewarded for their loyalty.
If.
The last of the trapped Breeders made it through the hole in the mesh; and only then did the big engines above Manta finally roar to life. Wonderful timing, he thought sardonically. Though he doubted it was the original timing the humans had had in mind.
Getting his fins moving, he swam away from it, keeping a careful eye on the front end of the cage. Humans liked to keep their options open, he knew, and that cage could still hold a captured Protector or two.
But apparently they'd had enough. Instead of heading level or downward, as it would have if they were going to hunt more Qanska, the probe angled upward toward the distant clouds above.
It was over. And the Qanska had won.
Manta rolled over on his back and watched it leave, fatigue lying heavy on his fins as the emotion and tension of the battle began to drain out of him. Yes, the Qanska had won. But for him, at least, the victory was going to be mixed at best. That Protector had been right; he was going to have to answer to the Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise for everything that had happened today.
Both his own actions, and very likely those of the humans. As far as they were concerned, after all, he would always be Manta, child of the humans.
Should he try to talk with them? Use the subvocalization trick and ask them what in gritty wind they had been doing?
He flipped his tails decisively. No. They could have talked to him at any point along the way, either before they sent their probe or at any time since. If they hadn't been interested in his opinion then, they were unlikely to be interested in it now.
He smiled grimly to himself. He very much hoped that they had noticed his contribution to the Qanskan victory. Let them bask in the knowledge of what ignoring him had cost them.
The probe had receded to a tiny speck in the sky when he heard the distant scream of fear.
He rolled back over, a flash of resentment whistling through him as he forced tired muscles back into action. What now? Had more Vuuka sensed the commotion and come over to see what was going on?
Well, whatever it was, it wasn't his concern. He was just a Breeder, after all, as everyone on Jupiter was fond of telling him. This was the Protectors' job. Let them handle it. The cry for help came again—
And Manta jerked like he'd been hit by lightning.
It was Drusni's voice.
The fatigue in his muscles vanished as if it had been dropped into the Great Yellow Storm, replaced by a terrified strength. Female Breeders nearing birth can give off cues of receptiveness, Latranesto had told him. But mating at that time can kill the unborn young.
And in humans, Manta knew, a miscarriage usually involved a certain loss of blood....
He threw himself across the wind, the aching terror in his heart driving a terrible strength into his muscles. No, he pleaded with the universe. Please. Not Drusni.
And then, in the distance, he saw her, locked in a writhing struggle with two Vuuka only slightly smaller than she was. Fighting for her life.
And spraying all around was the bright yellow of Qanskan blood.
Something nudged against into his side. Manta twitched over, his rage boiling suddenly to the surface. Half curling, he slapped his tails as hard as he could at his attacker—
"Stay back," the Protector beside him ordered, grunting as Manta's tail slash caught him across his back just behind the ear. "You hear me? Stay back."
"To the Deep with you," Manta snarled, uncurling and lunging forward again.
"I said stop," the Protector barked, speeding up himself and catching up with Manta. He gave him another nudge for emphasis, a harder one this time. "We'll handle this."
Manta ignored him. Jaws clenched, he kept going—
And was nearly knocked upside down by the turbulence as four big Protectors suddenly shot past him, swimming toward Drusni and her attackers.
The Protector beside Manta took advantage of his momentary conf
usion to push himself into Manta's path. "It's under control," he growled. "You'd just be in the way."
"There'll be more of them," Manta warned, gasping for air. "All that blood—"
"We'll take care of it," the Protector insisted. "Besides, the Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise want to see you. Now."
Manta looked behind him. The four Protectors were nearly to Drusni and the Vuuka now. For better or worse, it was out of his strength. "All right," he murmured, his throats aching. "Lead the way."
TWENTY
Latranesto hadn't changed much in the past couple of dayherds, Manta thought as the big Qanska hovered there between two of his fellow Counselors, looking strong and almost regal. He'd probably grown a little since their last meeting, and his markings were a bit more faded, and he seemed to be having more trouble than usual maintaining his position in the Level Four air.
And his skin was marred by a few more lumps where various predators had tried for a quick meal and failed. Even at the lower levels, apparently, Qanskan life was not calm and peaceful.
But his eyes were just as bright as ever as he gazed across at Manta. "Well, Manta," he said. His voice seemed more gravelly, too. "Once again, unpleasant events have brought us together."
"Yes," Manta agreed, striving to keep his own voice calm. "This is becoming a very bad habit."
"You will speak with respect to the Counselors of the Qanska," the Counselor to Latranesto's left said sharply. His markings, Manta noted, were very similar to Latranesto's.
In fact, all three Counselors looked remarkably alike, except that the one to Latranesto's right was a female. All of them siblings, perhaps?
"I beg the Counselors' pardon," Manta said. "But I'm concerned for my friend. Why won't anyone tell me what's happened to her?"
"Your friend?" the male Counselor demanded harshly. "You mean the female whose weakness you took advantage of to obscenely mate with her? The female whose child died as a result, and is even now being mourned by his herd?"
"That same herd who nearly lost many of its other children as a result of your people's actions?" the female Counselor to Latranesto's right added, her voice as bitter as her colleague's. "That is the female, and that is the herd you now claim as friends?"
"The humans are not my people," Manta said, hearing the tension in his voice. "And as for the rest of it, I would have willingly given my life to prevent it from happening."
"Yet your life is still here," the male Counselor said pointedly. "The child's is not."
Manta flicked his tails. What could he say to that?
"Tell us about your actions this day," Latranesto said.
Manta focused on him. The big Counselor's eyes were steady on him, but he thought he could detect a hint of sympathy hidden deep in his expression.
Sympathy? Or something else?
"As you know, the humans have spoken to me many times in the past," he reminded them in a low voice. "But they gave me no warning of this attack. I arrived to find their machine pursuing and capturing the children of my former herd, and the herd of my friend Drusni. When I tried to stop them, they took control of my body and used me to interfere with the Protectors."
"How did they gain this control?" Latranesto asked.
"They used my human origins against me," Manta said, wincing at the memory. How could he have done such things to his people? "The way my thoughts and feelings are put together. And I was unable to free myself until Drusni... until she suggested that we..." He trailed off.
"Are you telling us that it was Druskani who initiated the mating?" the male Counselor demanded. "How dare you imply such a thing?"
"Especially with her absent and unable to refute your claims?" the other added with a contemptuous flip of her tails. "Such arrogance added to the crime itself—"
"Please," Latranesto cut her off. "Continue, Manta."
Manta took a deep breath. "The mating was wrong," he said. "I knew it then, and I know it now. But with my body controlled by the humans I was unable to prevent it from happening."
"How convenient," the male Counselor muttered.
"But afterwards," Manta went on doggedly, "after the... the emotions of the action had faded away, I finally found myself free of their control."
He straightened to his full length, or at least as best as he could while flapping hard to hold himself in position in the dense air. "And then I did what I could to stop them and free the children."
"And at the risk of your own life," Latranesto added. "There was, after all, no promise that the Vuuka you had attracted would not attack you instead of the humans' machine."
Manta eyed him. Was Latranesto actually on his side here? "I was fortunate," he said.
"You may have been fortunate," the male grunted. "But not all the Qanska were. Or did you expect that all the Vuuka you drew to that area would follow your blood trail?"
Manta winced. "Yes, I was told," he said quietly. "Four other children and a Breeder also died." He looked the male Counselor squarely in the eye. "And I do mourn them."
"Your feelings and emotions are not on trial here, Breeder Manta," the Counselor countered. "It is your actions that we must judge."
"Yet feelings and emotions are often the Breeders of the actions," Latranesto murmured. "And if his emotions are human, how can we expect his actions to conform to those of the Qanska?"
There it was again: Latranesto acting more like his advocate than his judge. "Yet I don't believe my emotions are human anymore," Manta said firmly. "I consider myself truly a Qanska."
"Do you?" the female Counselor asked, an odd intensity to her voice. "Your emotions are Qanskan, you say. But what about your thoughts? Have you also become a Qanska in thought as well as feeling?"
"I don't know," Manta said honestly. "I don't know which of my thoughts are human or which are Qanskan. All I can point out is, again, that I risked my life to protect Qanskan children."
"Yet you have done such protecting before," Latranesto reminded him. "And you have said that the desire to protect others is a strong human trait. That would imply you are still human in both thoughts and desires."
Manta felt his throats tighten, feeling like he'd just hit a down-draft. He'd just concluded that Latranesto was on his side here; now, suddenly, the Counselor seemed to be trying to prove that Manta was still dangerously human.
"The protective urge is strong in some humans," he said. "But not all. Besides, isn't that same urge present in Qanskan Protectors, as well?"
"In Qanskan Protectors, yes," the female said. "But you're a Breeder."
"The evidence seems clear," Latranesto said. "I believe he does yet think like a human. Certainly his chosen method of protecting the children was not one any Qanska would have thought of."
He twitched his tails. "In my opinion, that will always be a part of him."
"Perhaps," the female said.
"No," the male said firmly. "I say he is Qanskan. Warped and perverse, but Qanskan nonetheless. And as such—"
"Peace," Latranesto cut him off. "The examination is ended."
He backed up a few lengths. The other two Counselors swiveled around toward him, and for a few ninepulses the three of them hovered snout to snout, murmuring together in low voices. Manta watched them, his tired fins feeling as heavy as if he were lugging a pair of Youths on each of them. Whatever they were going to do, he wished they would just get it over with.
Then maybe they would finally tell him what had happened to Drusni.
The Counselors finished their debate and swiveled back around to face him. "We have reached our decision," Latranesto declared, his voice sounding suddenly as tired as Manta felt. "Manta, child of the humans, in your actions this day you have committed a terrible crime against the Breeder Druskani, the Breeder Prantrulo, and their unborn child. Moreover, in committing this crime, you have dishonored all of the Qanska. These facts cannot be argued."
He paused, and Manta took a deep breath. Here it came.
"Yet in your
actions you also protected the lives of many other Qanska," Latranesto continued. "Whether you are still a child of the humans, we cannot say with certainty. We can only balance your actions of this day against each other."
He paused again. The two other Counselors, Manta noted, seemed oddly still, despite their flapping fins.
"When those actions are balanced, it becomes clear that you cannot continue to move about freely," Latranesto said. "We have therefore chosen two Qanska to accompany you. You will stay with them and allow them to guide you wherever they so choose."
Manta suppressed a grimace. No punishment, but he wasn't getting off scot-free, either. More baby-sitters, two of them this time.
"This hearing is now ended," Latranesto said. "You may go, Breeder Manta."
"Thank you, Counselors of the Qanska," Manta said. "May I now be informed as to the condition of my friend Druskani?"
Latranesto rippled his tails in a gesture of sympathy. "Her fate is still uncertain," he said quietly. "The Nurturers are still treating her."
A cold lump settled into Manta's heart. At least she was alive. But the very fact that she was still being treated wasn't a good sign. "May I see her?" he asked.
"No," Latranesto said. "She has gone into seclusion, and is seeing no one."
"I see," Manta murmured. And if and when she was ready to see people again, he would bet his name wasn't going to be high on her list. Chances were, he would never have the chance to apologize.
Though even if such a chance ever came, he wouldn't know what to say anyway. Probably just as well that he would never see her again.
"You may go," Latranesto said again.
Manta flipped his tails once in acknowledgment and turned away. Letting his aching muscles relax, he began floating upward.
"And now," Latranesto added, "we will hear the charges against Protector Virtamco. Let him be brought before us."
