Manta's Gift

by Timothy Zahn

  "Overgrazed," Manta supplied.

  "Right. Who overgrazed the jeptris?"

  "I guess that makes sense," Manta said slowly. "Except then what happened to the jeptris on Level One? There aren't all that many adults allowed up there."

  "Maybe it doesn't grow on Level One," Drusni said.

  "Beltrenini said it did," Manta told her. "Hold on a pulse, will you? Don't eat that last bite."

  "What, you want it?" Drusni asked as he maneuvered closer to her.

  "No, I just want to look at it," he said, coming to a halt practically snout to snout with her. The jeptris was a delicate thing, he saw. Thin filaments of silver were twisted together with other filaments of light blue, the whole thing looking rather like a French braid with tiny leaves at the intersection points. Woven into the middle of the pattern, spaced at precise intervals between the leaves, were what looked like cone-shaped berries.

  And that single look was all it took. "This is chinster," he told the others.

  "What are you talking about?" Pranlo protested. "Chinster is light purple, all of it. This stuff is silvery blue."

  "I know that," Manta said. "But it's chinster, all right. Or else a really good spinoff."

  "A really good what?" Drusni asked.

  "A spinoff," Manta said. "That's like a new product that's derived from a larger but mostly unrelated product—"

  "Whoa, whoa," Pranlo cut him off. "Can you give that to us in tonals?"

  "Sorry," Manta apologized. For a pulse there he'd drifted back into business school mode. "What I'm saying is that jeptris and chinster seem to be very much the same sort of plant. They've got the same form, same structure—even the shape of the berries is the same. The only differences I can see are in the color and taste. It's as if one of them is nothing more than a different version of the other."

  "All right," Drusni said cautiously. "Maybe. But how does something like that happen? A plant is a plant, just like a Qanska is a Qanska and a Vuuka is a Vuuka. How does it change into something else?"

  "I don't know," Manta admitted, his first rush of excitement fading away. It had to be a mutation of some kind. Didn't it?

  But how could a mutation that was massive enough to change color and taste not also change the plant's appearance? Shouldn't it at least make it look a little different?

  He was still floating snout to snout with Drusni. Silently, he backed away from her, turning his tails to his friends.

  What was he doing here, anyway? He was just a humble business major, on a world that had never even heard of the concept. Spinoffs he understood; profit and loss he understood. Inflow and outflow, structure and management and takeovers and economics. Those he understood.

  But not this scientific stuff. Not any of it.

  Problem-solver. Like the Deep he was. Business problems, maybe. Spinoffs, profit and loss, inflow and outflow—

  His wind of thought hit an abrupt calm. Spinoffs. Inflow and outflow...

  And Level Eight. Inflow and outflow and Level Eight...

  "Manta?" Drusni murmured tentatively.

  And suddenly, there it was, staring him in the face. The answer to all of it.

  Maybe.

  He spun back around to face them, a sudden surge of energy flowing straight out to his fin tips. "I've got it," he said.

  "What?" Pranlo and Drusni said in unison.

  "I know what's going on," Manta said. "I don't know all the details; not yet. But I know what's happening. And I know why."

  "Well, don't keep us in suspense," Pranlo said. "What is it?"

  "I should have listened to myself from the beginning," Manta said. "Inflow and outflow. Basic business concepts."

  He smiled tightly. "And Level Eight," he added. "Where all good little Qanska hope to go when they grow up to be the Wise. Come on."

  He flipped over and headed north. "Wait a pulse," Pranlo called after him. "Where are we going?"

  "Back to Centerline to see Latranesto," Manta called back. "If I'm right, we're going to need the humans' help to figure out what exactly to do to fix the problem."

  "What does Latranesto have to do with the humans?" Drusni asked as she and Pranlo caught up and settled into a pacing swim beside him.

  "He doesn't," Manta said. "But I know humans, and they don't ever give anything away for free. I'm going to need something I can trade with them."

  "And you think they're going to want a lumpy Counselor?" Pranlo asked, sounding confused.

  Manta flicked his tails. Latranesto, he suspected, was not going to like this. Not a single bit. "No," he said. "Not exactly."

  "Well, it's confirmed," Hesse said, dropping with jerky awkwardness into Faraday's desk chair. "Nemesis Six is definitely on the move, and it's definitely coming here."

  "How long before it arrives?" Faraday asked. "We've still got two to three weeks, right?"

  "Two weeks and four days," Hesse said, drumming his fingers silently on the edge of the desk. "Assuming it stays with its current schedule."

  "So we've still got time," Faraday concluded. "There's no need to panic just yet."

  "Panic?" Hesse suddenly seemed to notice what his fingers were doing. "Right," he apologized, bringing them to an abrupt halt. "Sorry. I'm just... this whole thing's got me spinning three ways from clockwise. What in the System is she up to?"

  "You tell me," Faraday said. "I'm not very up-to-date on what's been happening around here lately."

  "But that's just it: I don't know," Hesse said. "I've been over Six's equipment list twice. If there's any special sensor or search gear aboard, I can't find it."

  "What about the crew?" Faraday asked. "Anyone aboard with special expertise?"

  "Not that I can find in any of the crew profiles," Hesse said. "Near as I can tell, the whole Nemesis project is basically a sort of high-class, low-profile grunt duty. You go out and sit in the middle of nowhere waiting for a call that never comes."

  "Or at least a call that hasn't come yet" Faraday reminded him soberly. "If and when a rogue comet comes by with Earth in its crosshairs, we'll be damn glad we've got those stockpiles sitting ready to go."

  "Maybe," Hesse said, not sounding convinced. "But anyway, you sit out there for a few months and then get rotated back to civilization. Doesn't seem like the kind of place you'd stick someone with special talents or training."

  "How about the political aspect?" Faraday suggested. "Anyone's son or daughter or nephew on Nemesis Six who she might be hoping to influence?"

  "I suppose that's possible," Hesse said doubtfully. "I don't have a complete listing of all the System's high and mighty to run a comparison against. But if that was what she wanted, why bring the whole platform here? Why not just send a transport?"

  "Good question," Faraday conceded. "So what does that leave us? The weapons themselves?"

  Hesse grimaced. "Frankly, that's all I can see."

  Faraday nodded. He'd suspected they would arrive at this conclusion sooner or later. But all the other possibilities had at least had to be looked at. "So what could she want with a pair of half-gigaton nukes?"

  "Only one thing I can think of," Hesse said. His fingers, Faraday noted, had started their silent drumming again. Clearly, he was having a really hard time with this. "And I don't like it at all."

  "So tell me," Faraday prompted.

  Hesse seemed to brace himself. "You remember we talked once about the way Liadof handled defeat?"

  "Yes, I remember," Faraday said.

  "Maybe I was wrong," Hesse said. "I mean, about what I said then about revenge never being her primary goal. Or maybe she thinks she's found a way to meet her agenda and get revenge at the same time."

  Faraday frowned. "You're not actually suggesting she's planning to use Nemesis weapons against Jupiter Prime, are you?"

  "Not Prime, no," Hesse said grimly. "I think she's going to use them against the Qanska."

  Faraday pursed his lips. So there it was, at last. Exactly as he'd anticipated. "There is, of course, no way in
hell we can let that happen," he told Hesse. "The Omega extortion attempt was bad enough. Using nuclear weapons against the Qanska would be a deliberate act of war."

  "I know," Hesse said soberly. "And it gets worse. From the way she keeps insisting we keep track of the herd where Mr. Raimey grew up—"

  He swallowed. "Well, I'm afraid that's the one she's going to go after."

  Faraday nodded. Again, as anticipated. "Which, not coincidentally, is also the herd where Pranlo and Drusni are swimming."

  "Or at least where their children are," Hesse said. "Pranlo and Drusni themselves haven't been seen there for several weeks. But Liadof might even like that better. Kill the children; leave the parents alive to suffer their loss."

  "Charming," Faraday murmured. "There's one other point. If Liadof blames Drusni for Omega's failure, she undoubtedly blames Manta for the rest of it. If and when he reappears, where is he likely to go but his old herd, to swim along with his old friends?"

  "Oh, hell," Hesse muttered. "I hadn't even thought about that. But you're right, that probably is where he'd go."

  "He hasn't reappeared, has he?"

  "Not yet," Hesse said. "No one in the herd's been talking about him, either. At least, not with anything new."

  "And the subvocalizer isn't picking up anything?"

  "Not since Omega. Wherever he is, he's out of range."

  Faraday pursed his lips. "All right," he said. "I guess the time has come. What do your backers need from me in order to stop her?"

  Hesse's eyes widened briefly. Maybe he'd expected to have to do more convincing. "Well, basically, we need your public support," he said, stumbling slightly over the words. He really was nervous about all this. "A live newsnet conference, maybe, where you can officially come out against Liadof and her faction."

  "Too risky," Faraday said, shaking his head. "Too many ways Liadof could cut the transmission before I even got going. Especially way out here."

  "How about a recording, then?" Hesse suggested. "We could make a permchip of your statement and then transport it off Prime where she couldn't control the transmission."

  "That's even worse," Faraday told him. "A permchip could be intercepted, and we'd never even know it until it was too late."

  He cocked an eyebrow at Hesse. "Besides, it occurs to me that this is a bit premature. I don't even know for sure if these supporters of yours will even back me up."

  "Oh, they will," Hesse assured him. "They've made that very clear."

  "They may have made it clear to you" Faraday countered. "They haven't said word one to me. I can't afford to stick my neck out without a reasonable assurance that it won't get chopped off."

  He smiled tightly. "Or at least, that it won't get chopped off alone," he amended. 'We must all hang together—' "

  " 'Or we shall all hang separately,' " Hesse finished for him. "Benjamin Franklin; yes."

  "And as true today as it was back then," Faraday said. "Looks to me like the ball's back on your side of the net."

  "Yes, of course," Hesse said, getting to his feet. "All right, I'll talk to them and see what kind of guarantees they can come up with."

  "Good," Faraday said. "And remind them to make it fast. We've got less than three weeks before Nemesis Six gets here."

  "I will," Hesse promised. He hesitated, just noticeably, then nodded. "Good-bye, Colonel," he said, stepping to the door and knocking. "I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

  Faraday nodded in return. The guard opened the door, and Hesse was gone.

  With a tired sigh, Faraday turned back to his desk. So there it was: Liadof's opening shot in this insane private war of hers. A war, if she got her way, that would leave her in an even stronger position than she enjoyed right now.

  And with consequences to the Qanska that would be impossible to predict. To the Qanska, and to Manta.

  Or whatever it was Manta had become.

  He sat down in front of his computer. For better or worse, the die was now cast. The players were taking up their positions on the chessboard, and the game was about to begin in earnest.

  And in the quiet battle about to take place, a pawn could easily see as much action as a queen or a knight or a bishop.

  Maybe even the pawn named Colonel Jakob Faraday.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Even taking into account the drift of the winds, Latranesto had ranged somewhat farther afield than Manta had expected him to go. Hunting for food, probably, or else avoiding predators.

  Still, with three of them available to cover the likely search area, it only took a couple of days of false starts before they finally made the sundark rendezvous.

  "You're back sooner than I'd expected," Latranesto commented as he and Drusni swam up to where Manta and Pranlo were waiting. "Have you come to hear the details of the vanishings?"

  "That won't be necessary," Manta said. "I know what the problem is."

  Even in the fading light, he could see the shocked reaction that rippled across the Counselor's fins. "Already?" he asked incredulously.

  "Already," Manta assured him, trying to sound more confident than he felt. All the way back to Centerline he'd been thinking over his theory; and while he was personally convinced he was right, it still was only a theory.

  "Unbelievable," Latranesto declared, his fin tips rippling again with nervous excitement. "Well, don't hide the end of this story. Tell me."

  "I will," Manta promised. "But there's another matter we need to discuss first. Tell me about your journey here, and the device you use to travel between worlds."

  The undulating fin tips suddenly stopped dead in the air. "You ask for that which the humans also demanded of us," Latranesto said, his voice wary. "Why?"

  "Because if I'm right about this, we'll need the humans' help in solving our problem," Manta explained, keeping his voice even and reasonable. "For that, I'll need something to bargain with."

  "But you will not simply give it to them?" Latranesto asked, his voice dark with suspicion.

  "Absolutely not," Manta promised. "Part of my human training was in the technique of bargaining with others in exactly this way. I intend to use all of that ability on behalf of the Qanska."

  "And what if the humans take first, but then do not give?"

  "Trust me," Manta said grimly. "I'll make sure we get what we need before they get what they want."

  "Trust," Latranesto murmured. "To trust a human."

  "No," Pranlo put in softly. "To trust Manta."

  For a ninepulse there was only the whistling of the winds around them. Latranesto gazed into the gathering darkness, his tails lashing back and forth in indecision. Manta kept silent, uncomfortably aware that the whole thing could fall apart right here and now. If Latranesto wasn't even willing to tell him where the stardrive was hidden, he would certainly be unwilling to let the humans borrow it for examination.

  And without such a commitment from the Qanska, there was no way Manta was going to persuade Faraday and the humans to help them out.

  With a final flick of his tails, the Counselor exhaled in a rolling sigh. "Very well," he said. "The way to other worlds is in the air below Level Eight. Through what is called the Deep."

  "I understand," Manta said. So the stardrive was buried deep in the atmosphere. That made sense. "How do you get to it?"

  "You swim, of course," Latranesto retorted. "What did you expect?"

  "Sorry," Manta apologized. "I guess I just assumed that Level Eight was as deep as a Qanska could go. I thought you had to call the machine or something so that it would come up to meet you."

  Latranesto frowned. "What machine?"

  "Your stardrive, of course," Manta said, frowning back. "I thought that was what we were talking about."

  "You asked how we travel between worlds," Latranesto said. "That's what I'm telling you. I said nothing about any machine."

  "But—" Manta floundered, "That's what you have to use for this kind of traveling. Isn't it?"

  "There is no machine, Manta," Lat
ranesto said quietly. "That's why we can never give the humans what they demand. There is no machine, but only a place. A place within the darkness and pain and fear of the Deep."

  Manta's skin was starting to crawl. What Latranesto was suggesting... "What sort of place is it?" he asked carefully. "I mean, where exactly is it? And how is it different from other places on Jupiter?"

  "It is a place encompassing in and of itself," Latranesto said, his voice shifting into the sing-song pattern of Qanskan story-circle legends. One more story, Manta knew, that no doubt had been carefully deleted from his own herd's lessons. "There is pressure—great pressure—and an eerie light. There is a frightening confusion of twisting winds and multiple directions that defy the strong and overwhelm the weak. Only those of the Wise with the strength of will and the spirit of determination can reach it."

  "I never heard anything about this," Drusni murmured quietly.

  "They made sure our herd's storytellers kept quiet about it," Manta explained. "Though you'll notice they couldn't suppress it completely. Expressions like 'to the Deep with it,' for instance."

  "I always thought that just meant 'let it die,' " Pranlo commented soberly.

  "I thought it meant 'to hell with it,' " Manta said, tasting the irony. So in other words, what he'd always taken to be the Qanskan concept of hell was in actual fact their pathway into the heavens.

  "But why hide it from us?" Drusni asked, sounding puzzled.

  "Not from you," Manta told her. "From me. And of course from the humans they figured would be listening in."

  He turned back to Latranesto. "Which means you knew right from the start that this was what they wanted."

  "We didn't know," Latranesto hedged. "But we did suspect."

  "But that's my point," Drusni persisted. "It wasn't something the humans could steal from us, so why not let them know the truth?"

  "Because if the humans had found out they couldn't obtain a stardrive here, they'd have lost interest in the Qanska in a pulse," Manta said sourly.

  He looked at Latranesto. "And if they did that, who would solve the problem of your dying world?"