Timothy Zahn - Manta's Gift

And yet, where Gryntaro's gruffness seemed genuine, Wirkani's pleasantness felt somehow artificial or forced. Almost as if she was play-acting for his benefit.

Or maybe for Gryntaro's. Maybe she really didn't like him any more than Manta did.

In which case, why swim with him at all? Because Latranesto and his Counselor buddies had told her to?

He sniffed under his breath as he caught up a mouthful of ranshay. Back at his trial, he'd concluded he was being let off easy. Now, stuck with these two, he wasn't so sure anymore.

Something moving to the side caught his eye. He looked up—

"What?" Gryntaro asked sharply, looking up too.

"Oh, it's just a Brolka," Wirkani said soothingly. "Nothing to be afraid of."

"I know what it is," Manta growled, watching as the miniature Qanska snatched a few bites from the other side of the ranshay run and then darted off. It was the first one of the creatures he'd seen since he and his new companions had left the Centerline.

And the sight of it reminded him that he never had figured out what exactly they were.

Well, no time like the present. "Or rather, I don't know," he amended. "What are those things, anyway?"

"They're Brolka, of course," Gryntaro said, glaring at him. "Don't play silly games."

"I'm not playing games," Manta insisted. "I never even heard of Brolka until twenty or thirty ninedays ago. Where do they come from?"

"Where do you think?" Gryntaro retorted. "From Qanska, of course."

Manta stared at him. "From Qanska?"

"Like Babies," Wirkani said. "You do know where Babies come from, don't you?"

"Of course," Manta said, a creepy sensation flowing through him as he looked back and forth between the two of them. This couldn't possibly be right. "Are you telling me," he asked carefully,

"that Brolka are Qanskan Babies?"

Wirkani actually gasped. "Don't be ridiculous," Gryntaro bit out, sounding even gruffer than usual.

"They're food animals for the Vuuka and Sivra. Do you think we would give up Babies to be food animals?"

"But you just said they come from Qanska," Manta protested, thoroughly confused now. "If they come from Qanska, why aren't they Qanska?"

"Because they're smaller and heavier than Qanska," Wirkani said, her normal cheerfulness starting to sound a little strained. "They don't talk, they don't grow more than about four-size long, and they don't understand us. They're just food animals."

"Maybe you're one of them," Gryntaro added sarcastically. "If you don't understand something this simple—"

"Wait a ninepulse," Manta interrupted, struggling to figure this out. "So Brolka are born from Qanska. Are they born the same time as Qanska, or at different times?"

"The same time," Wirkani said, frowning at him. "A group is born, all at once, usually with one Qanska and four to six Brolka."

"And they all come from Qanska?" Manta asked. "Or can the Brolka then breed together?"

"What, you think we've got enough female Breeders to make this many Brolka?" Gryntaro scoffed.

"I thought you humans were supposed to know something about people and animals."

"Now, now, Gryntaro," Wirkani admonished him. "No, Manta, the Brolka breed together just fine.

Even better, actually. They can have as many as eight or nine at a time. You really don't know all this?"

"No one ever told me," Manta murmured, feeling about as windswept as he'd ever been in his life.

So that was it. Typical Qanska births came as a litter, with the mix including one sentient Qanskan Baby and a whole mess of nonsentient food-animal runts. The Baby joined the herd, and the Brolka just... swam away?

It was breathtakingly weird, and borderline obscene on top of it. But the more he thought about it, the more he had to admit there was a certain logic to it. True, it cost a lot of biological effort for a Breeder to create a bunch of animals while she was also creating a Baby. But at the same time, the more animals there were swimming around, the less likely the new child would find itself at the business end of a set of Vuukan teeth. Provided there were enough food plants floating around to sustain the larger population, the arrangement would definitely be to the Qanskan good.

At least, that was how it had seemed to work in the northern regions, back when he was swimming with Beltrenini and her friends. He remembered noting at the time that he hadn't had nearly as much trouble with predators as he'd had as a child, or even on his travels away from Centerline.

Which left only one question. If it was such a universally good plan, why weren't the Qanska in the Centerline region doing it?

Because they clearly weren't. He'd witnessed a fair number of births while he was swimming with the herd, and he'd heard about a lot more that he hadn't personally seen. And he'd certainly endured his fair share of the story circles where the leaders of the herd had pedantically listed the requirements and obligations and expectations in a young Qanska's life.

And in none of it had he seen, heard of, or heard about Brolka.

"They didn't tell you?" Gryntaro asked sardonically as he scooped up another mouthful. "Or were you just not paying attention?"

"Don't worry about it," Wirkani added encouragingly. "I'm sure there are things around each of us every day that we don't notice. Learning is what makes life exciting."

"Or maybe I was listening, but this was something they didn't talk about," Manta shot back.

"Because there aren't any Brolka in Centerline, and I wasn't supposed to know about them. You think?"

Gryntaro gruffed something and turned away. "It's not quite the way you make it sound, Manta,"

Wirkani said, sounding a little embarrassed. "If it's not talked about, it's because civilized Qanska don't do things that way anymore. We prefer to have our children alone, without any of these other...

complications. It's simpler, cleaner, and much less dangerous for the Breeder mother."

"I can understand that," Manta said, keeping his voice neutral. A nice theory, and he didn't believe it for a minute. As a business major he hadn't had much time for science courses; but those he had taken had made it clear that biological cycles and procedures rarely came down to a matter of personal choice. Certainly not the ones having to do with reproduction. Maybe the Centerline folk had convinced themselves it was more civilized, but there had to be something else behind it.

But what?

Impatiently, he shook the thought away. Once, he would have brought this information to the humans' attention, and he and McCollum would have spent a few ninedays nosing the possibilities and ramifications back and forth.

But now, as far as he was concerned, McCollum, her database, and all the rest of the humans could go to the Deep. The mysteries of life on Jupiter were none of his concern anymore. All he cared about now was his own survival.

He was chewing on yet another bite of ranshay, and gazing out into the distance to the north, when he saw the flicker of movement.

He caught his breath, freezing into immobility as his eyes tried to pierce the gathering darkness. It was back: the same person or thing that had been stalking them ever since they'd left Centerline.

It never came close enough for him to get a good look at it, but it was never very far away. At first he'd thought it was a hungry but shy Vuuka, looking for an opportunity to split one of them away from the others and get a quick meal. But subsequent glimpses had shown the stalker was the wrong shape for that. It was definitely a Qanska, and from the size probably a Breeder or small Protector.

And even though he'd never seen it clearly enough to identify the markings, he had long since concluded there was only one Qanska who could possibly be interested in stalking him this way.