Timothy Zahn - Manta's Gift

The humans shouldn't have come back. Not like this. And Manta meant to bite that lesson straight through their skin.

Flexing his fins, he started upward toward the dark object floating above him. The Protectors were still ramming themselves against the side, he saw, with no indication that they were making much headway. No surprise there. Thanks to Manta and their studies of him, the humans knew a great deal about Qanskan physiology and capabilities. They would have carefully designed their cowardly weapon to withstand Qanskan attacks.

But Manta was a tool-using creature. And the ultimate tool for this job was quite close at hand.

He could hear Drusni calling to him as he swam upward, the quiet agony in her voice adding to the pain whistling through his heart. Perhaps she thought her sacrifice had been for nothing, that he was still under the control of the evil beings above them.

If so, she would learn the truth soon enough. The same time the humans did.

The bottom of the cage loomed directly above him, the rows of jagged spikes pointed down like the teeth of a giant mouth awaiting its prey. Easing back on his speed, he rose toward them; and just as he reached the tips, he rolled over onto his back and let himself float the rest of the way upward.

Manta's skin had grown thick and tough over the long ninedays of his adulthood, and the spikes barely scratched the outer layer. That would hardly do. Flipping over, he dived down again for a few powerful strokes, then turned back and swam upward again toward the cage, this time making sure he was moving faster. Again, he rolled onto his back as he approached, presenting his belly to the spikes.

And gasped as he hit and the sharp points dug into his skin. He wiggled once; and with a multiple flowering of bright yellow, the blood began to pop out of his new wounds.

Wincing, he eased himself down off the spikes. The tiny droplets of yellow blew away from his belly as the wind caught them, forming little perforated trails across the sky. Flipping his head around into the wind, keeping well clear of the spikes this time, he headed away beneath the cage.

"What does he think he's doing?" Liadof said contemptuously, shaking her head. "Did he really think the spikes would be fragile enough for him to break?"

"Maybe he's just confused," Faraday suggested, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. Was Raimey thinking along the same line he was? If so, there might still be a chance to turn this grand scheme of Liadof's into the fiasco it deserved to be.

Provided, of course, that Liadof herself didn't catch on until it was too late. Surreptitiously, he tapped his myrtlewood ring for luck. "After all, with most animals the belly is the weakest part," he added, hoping she wouldn't get suspicious at this sudden surge of helpfulness.

"I think it's that way with Qanska, too," Milligan spoke up, his voice just slightly off. So he'd figured it out, too. "I'm not sure, though. Too bad we can't consult Ms. McCollum."

"You could get her back in here," Faraday suggested, getting into the spirit of things. "Maybe she'll have some ideas."

Liadof snorted. "You never give up, do you, Colonel?"

Faraday gazed at the display. "No, Arbiter," he said softly. "I don't."

Manta cleared the last row of spikes and turned upward along the side of the cage, rolling over to put his back to the wind. Far above him, the Protectors were continuing their ramming attack, and he saw two or three of them look warily in his direction as he cleared the underside of the cage.

Standing ready to fend him off, no doubt, if he tried to interfere with them again.

No danger there. Manta intended to stay as far away from them as he reasonably could.

With the wind at his back, the thin multiple trails of blood drifting from his wounds began to spatter into the mesh of the cage as he swam upward alongside it. Picking a likely-looking spot along the lower part of the side, he brought his fins to a stop, letting the wind press his belly firmly against the cold metal. He wiggled a couple of times, resting against the side of the cage, taking the opportunity to peer more closely inside.

The humans had done pretty well for themselves, he saw. There were ten children in the cage, ranging from one-size Babies to a couple of four-size Youths. Three female Breeders were inside, too, swimming back and forth among the terrified children, trying to calm and comfort them. Manta wondered if they'd all voluntarily gone in with their young, like the one Breeder he'd seen, or if the humans' aim was simply bad enough that they'd caught a couple by mistake.

But that didn't matter. What was important was that there were three adults in there who could hopefully listen to directions with steady fins and get the children moving when it was time.

And then, from somewhere downwind, Manta heard a distant warning call. Not the terrified pleading that had drawn him here, which was still being shouted by the Breeders and children who had escaped the humans' clutches. This one was an old and very familiar call.

Vuuka!

He took a careful breath. And now, he quoted the old human phrase to himself, it's show time.

"What's he doing?" Liadof asked, her voice uneasy. "Damn it, Colonel, what's he doing?"

"What do you mean?" Faraday asked, feigning puzzlement as he tried to keep the excitement out of his voice. Raimey had the answer—he was sure of it now. Just a few more minutes... "Looks like he's trying to see into the cage."

"He doesn't have to shove himself right up against the mesh to look inside," Liadof countered darkly.

"What's he thinking, that the metal will help stanch the blood?"

"You're asking the wrong person," Faraday said. "As Mr. Milligan pointed out, you've sent away our Qanskan physiology expert."

Liadof didn't bother to respond. "Mr. Beach, there's some new bellowing going on in the background," she growled instead. "What are they saying?"

"They're warning of approaching Vuuka," Beach reported.

Liadof hissed gently between her teeth. "They're zeroing in on Raimey's blood. He should have known that would happen."

"Probably," Faraday agreed.

"And yet he's still just sitting there," Liadof went on, the first hint of uncertainty creeping into her voice. "Why isn't he trying to get away? Doesn't he realize he's the one they'll be coming after?"

"I don't know," Faraday couldn't resist saying. "You've sent our psychologist away, too."

"Vuuka coming into view," Milligan announced. "Looks like... six, seven... looks like nine of them.

Couple of big ones—ten meters each. The rest are reasonably small, in the three- to six-meter range."

"Well, at least that solves the problem of the Protectors batting their brains against the cage," Liadof muttered. "They're certainly not going to have time for any more of that nonsense now."

Faraday smiled tightly to himself. No, the Protectors wouldn't be hitting the cage anymore. They wouldn't have to.

And for all her arrogance, Liadof wouldn't even see it coming. She had shown already she didn't understand Qanskan physiology, or Raimey's personality and psychology.

Now she was showing she didn't even remember history.

The warning calls were getting louder and nearer. Above Manta, the Protectors were beginning to respond, the rhythm of their attack faltering as the majority swam off to confront the incoming predators. Briefly, Manta wondered if they'd noticed that it was his blood that was drawing them, then put the thought out of his mind. If this worked, he hoped there wouldn't be any repercussions for his actions. At least, not this particular action.

If it didn't work, he would probably be dead soon anyway.

He could see the Vuuka now, approaching rapidly from the far side of the cage. A good-sized group, eight or nine of them, swimming in along his blood trail. They had probably spotted the children inside the cage, and he wondered if their blood-fogged brains had noticed the metal mesh lying between them and that particular group of prey.