Timothy Zahn - Manta's Gift

But they wouldn't. Manta had once been human, after all. He knew them better than that.

Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his fins and let the wind take him. Tomorrow was going to be a busy day. He'd better get some sleep.

"Colonel Faraday?" The muffled voice called, the words half buried in the staccato of nervouswoodpecker tapping on his door. "Colonel Faraday!"

"Hold on," Faraday said, throwing off the blankets and blinking his eyes at his clock. It was just after four in the morning; and unless he was still dreaming, that was Hesse's voice out there in the corridor.

"Colonel Faraday?"

He wasn't still dreaming. Pulling on his slacks, Faraday grabbed a shirt and stepped to the door.

Liadof's men still had a passcard to his room, but he'd learned how to gimmick the door at night to give himself a little privacy. Draping the shirt over one shoulder, he flipped on the light and pulled off the access panel to the opening mechanism. A couple of wires put back where they belonged, and the door was functional again. Pulling on his shirt, he keyed the release.

Hesse had the slightly disheveled look of a man who's just thrown on his own clothing, and there was something tensely wild around his eyes. "Sorry to wake you, sir," he said as he stepped inside.

His voice, now that Faraday could hear it more clearly, was as agitated as his eyes. "We've got a situation here."

"What are you talking about?" Faraday asked cautiously, the skin on the back of his neck beginning to tingle. Something was very wrong here; Nemesis Six wasn't due at Prime for at least another week and a half. There shouldn't be any crises happening now. "What's happened?"

"I don't know," Hesse said, his breath coming in ragged gasps as if he'd run the whole way from his quarters. "All I know is that Liadof's been called urgently to the Contact Room, and there's word she's about to call you there, too."

Glancing back at the closed door behind him, he reached into his inner jacket pocket and slid out a folded sheet of paper. "I wanted to get this to you before that happens," he continued, holding it out toward Faraday, "It's the guarantee from my backers that you wanted. Here; you have to sign it."

"Put it on the desk," Faraday instructed him, sitting back down on the bed and snaring his shoes.

"Open it up and lay it out; I'll read it while I finish dressing."

"Do it fast," Hesse warned, fumbling the paper open and smoothing it out on the desktop. "They could be here any minute."

Faraday stepped past him and sat down at the desk. It was official document paper, he saw: ripproof, fire-proof, tamper-proof. This was serious business, all right. Leaning over to pull on his shoes, he began to read. The undersigned does hereby declare and state that he stands in alliance with the Citizens for Liberty—

"The Citizens for Liberty?" he asked, frowning up at Hesse. "Isn't that the group that's been protesting the Mars crackdown?"

"That's the one," Hesse confirmed, glancing back at the door again. "My backers have been sponsoring them as sort of unofficial public-relations arm. They're using the CFL to help stir up public sentiment against governmental excesses."

"I hope that's not their only outlet," Faraday grunted. "The CFL sounds awfully strident sometimes."

"No, they're just one of several groups," Hesse said. "It's a standard wide-spectrum PR approach.

The CFL reaches the people who are the most angry at the crackdown, while other groups concentrate on connecting with the moderates and undecideds. The CFL is just the one that's getting the most press at the moment."

"Ah," Faraday said, looking back down at the paper as he started fastening his shirt.—with the Citizens for Liberty against the blatantly illegal actions of Arbiter Katrina Liadof and the Five Hundred...

He finished with his shirt and rested his left elbow on the edge of the paper, cupping his chin in his hand as he skimmed down the rest of the document. "Doesn't look unreasonable," he commented when he had finished. "Only I thought your backers were supposed to be supporting me. This looks more like a guarantee of me supporting them."

"Well, of course it has to work both directions," Hesse pointed out. "They can hardly give you a blank check for support without acknowledgment that you're on their side, too. That's why the word alliance is used. That makes the whole thing mutual."

"I suppose that makes sense," Faraday agreed. "I might have felt more comfortable if they'd looped me in with one of the less radical groups, though."

"The idea isn't for any of us to be comfortable," Hesse said tartly. "What we need is for people to be angry about this, angry enough that there's real public pressure on the Five Hundred to back away from what Liadof's side is doing. From everything they're doing, from the Martian crackdown on down. That's the only way you're going to be able to protect Drusni's children and the other Qanska from getting nukes thrown down their throats. We've got to throw her out, and we've got to get her out now. There's no time to let you ramp up from concerned to annoyed to righteously indignant and finally to angry."

"I suppose not," Faraday conceded.

"So sign and let's get on with it." Hesse looked at the door again. "And make it quick," he added. "I think I hear someone coming."

He was right; Faraday could hear the approaching footsteps, too. Picking up a pen, he rested his hand on the edge of the desk and scrawled briefly across the line at the bottom. "There," he said, tossing the pen aside and standing up. "Better tuck it away out of sight. I'll get my jacket."

His timing was perfect. Even as he stepped away from the desk, there was a fresh pounding at his door. "Colonel?" a deep voice demanded.

"Come on, take it," Faraday hissed.

Lunging to the desk, Hesse scooped up the paper, hastily folded it back together, and stuffed it away inside his jacket.

Just in time. Behind him, the door slid open and one of Liadof's Sanctum cops strode in. "Colonel, you're wanted at the Contact Room," he announced. His eyes seemed to suddenly notice that Faraday was fully dressed. "Which I take it you already know," he added, throwing a brief and unreadable look at Hesse. "Come with me."

The corridors were mostly empty and quiet as Faraday followed the cop to the Contact Room, Hesse trailing behind them. The security officer at the entrance had obviously been briefed; he passed all three of them through with only a perfunctory glance at their IDs.

Liadof was waiting for them, standing in front of the command chair, her posture unnaturally stiff.

"Colonel Faraday," she said formally. "I apologize for awakening you at this hour."

"No apology necessary, Arbiter Liadof," Faraday said just as formally as he glanced around the room. Despite the late hour, he noted, Beach was in his usual spot at the communications station.

Either he'd been moved here to Gamma Shift, or else Liadof had roused him out of bed, too. The other three men seated at the wraparound control panel were complete strangers to him. "What seems to be the problem?"

He looked back at Liadof in time to see her lips compress briefly. "It's not really a problem," she said. "We've just heard from Mr. Raimey."

She flicked a glance in Beach's direction. "And there seems to be a certain confusion as to what exactly he's trying to say."

Faraday frowned. "The computer can't make it out?"

"The computer's translation is ambiguous," Liadof said. "Mr. Beach seems to think it's not ambiguous at all. As the other local expert on Qanskan tonals, I thought it might be interesting to get your take on it, as well."

"I'll do my best," Faraday said, trying hard to read her face. What new game was she playing now?