Manta's Gift

"Get the computer scrubbing the images from the probe," Faraday ordered, stepping back to his chair. They had work to do; and for the moment, at least, Manta's state of mind would have to wait.

So would Beach's, for that matter. Sitting down again, Faraday made a mental note to talk to the tech about it later.

They found the layer of floating bodies right where theory had predicted it would be. And, to McCollum's highly verbal satisfaction, they found it sandwiched between two mild turbulence layers.

It also wasn't the compact, layered clump that Faraday had envisioned, but something looser and more spread out. Less like a mass graveyard, he decided at that first glimpse, than simply a group of superhuge Qanska swimming in close order together. A few slightly smaller animals could be seen here and there in the gaps, both Qanska and a few large predators who had managed to elude the scavenging Pakra after their deaths and make it through Level Eight. There was also a fair sprinkling of stray bones apparently left over from Pakra meals.

But whether logjam or fighter air-show formation, the effect was just as Manta had guessed. Above the layer of bodies, the radiation readings were predominantly in the low-energy end of the electromagnetic spectrum: mostly infrared, with small percentages edging into the short-wave radio and visible regions. Below the layer, once the tether ship crew managed to tease the probe between the floating bodies, were the heavy concentrations of ultraviolet, X-ray, and gamma radiation required to turn on and off most of the Qanskan trigger genes.

The tether ship crew got the probe reeled back in and returned it to the station. There Faraday and the others studied the records from the onboard sensors, and held what seemed like endless discussions with Latranesto and Manta and the techs building the pressure casing for the nuclear weapon. Some of the discussions became heated, with the techs saying the pressure and maneuverability requirements couldn't possibly be met, and Faraday insisting that by God they would be.

And finally, after all was said and done and said again, the date was set.

"Manta?"

Manta rolled over, peering into the gloom of Centerline sundark. Drusni was floating up behind him, her fin tips brushing gently against the wind. "Hi, Drusni," he said. "You're awake early."

"So are you," she pointed out. "I noticed you twitching a little while ago. You all right?"

"Sure," he said, trying to sound like he meant it.

He might have saved himself the effort. "You haven't slept at all, have you?" she asked quietly.

He grimaced. "No," he conceded. "I've tried. But I can't."

"You should have wakened me," she said. "I would have kept you company."

Manta flipped his tails. "I didn't want to do that," he said. "No point in all of us being tired today."

She moved closer to him. "What's wrong? Is it something about the machine the humans are going to be lowering this sunlight? Are you worried that it won't fix the problem? Or that they might change their minds and not send it at all?"

Manta hesitated. How could he answer that? What could he say? There was so much he wanted to tell her; so much he wanted to hear from her, and discuss with her, or just float silently and comfortably alongside her.

So much he knew now they would never have the time or opportunity for.

But he couldn't tell her even that much. If he let slip the slightest hint of what was about to happen, he would only frighten her.

No. Better for all concerned if he just went quietly, alone, into that long sundark.

"I really don't know what's going to happen," he said, choosing the safest part of the truth. "Faraday says they've gotten the pressure and control problems solved and are going to go through with it. But Faraday isn't the only Leader anymore. And we already know the kind of games this Liadof human likes to play with agreements."

Drusni reached out to stroke his fin. "They'll come through," she assured him. "You were once one of them, you know. If they're not interested in doing it for us, surely they'll do it for you."

Manta snorted gently. "Sure," he said. "You, uh, you and Pranlo going to be helping with that last sweep of Level One?"

"I think so," she said, maneuvering around to get a closer look at his expression in the dim light.

"You're going to be with us, aren't you?"

"No," Manta said, trying to keep his voice casual. "The humans want me to follow the machine down to the bottom of Level Four. Make sure it doesn't draw some wandering Vuuka's attention."

"As long as there isn't any blood on it, I can't see why the Vuuka would care," Drusni said, frowning.

"But if you do that, are you going to be able to get away in time?"

"Oh, sure," Manta said. "It'll still have to go all the way down, way past Level Eight. Plenty of time."

"Uh-huh," Drusni said, still frowning. She wasn't buying this, Manta realized with a sinking feeling.

"You know, maybe Pranlo or I should stay and go along with you. I'm sure Latranesto has enough people to check Level One."

"No, that's all right," Manta said quickly. "It's more important that you make sure all the children are out of range of the blast. Besides, there really isn't anything you can do to help me."

"Yes, but—"

"No buts," Manta said firmly. "I don't need your help. You go with Pranlo and make sure everything's clear above."

For a long ninepulse she floated silently beside him. Then, gently, she reached out and stroked his fin again. "Okay," she said. "But you be careful."

"Sure," Manta said. "Anyway. It must be almost sunlight. I might as well head up and get ready."

"Okay," she said. "Unless you want to talk a little longer."

He looked at her, her face and body shimmering in the dim light; and suddenly, completely unbidden, a stray memory flickered to life in the back of his mind. That human woman—Bria

Was that her name?—the last human woman he'd ever loved.

Or at least, the last woman he'd thought he loved. Because now, with the perspective of age, and with the end of his life swimming swiftly toward him, he suddenly saw her with fresh eyes. What he'd thought back then was a quick and easy spontaneity had been in reality a lack of forethought and pla

And the unjudgmental acceptance of everything and everyone that he'd so admired had been nothing more than the sign of a lazy, undiscerning, shallow character.

How could he have ever been attracted to such a woman? How could he even have tolerated her presence in the same room with him?

There was only one answer; a painful, embarrassing answer. The young Matthew Raimey, the human he had once been, had been just as shallow and self-centered and foolish as she was.

It was odd, he thought distantly, how you didn't even notice the changes taking place in yourself.

"Manta?"

He focused on Drusni, the memory of Bria

"I asked if you wanted to talk some more," she repeated.

He sighed. Yes, he wanted to talk longer. He wanted to talk with her until sunlight turned to sundark, and nineday turned to nineday into nineday. He wanted to talk with her, and to laugh with her, and to be with her, until they were both too old to swim through Level Eight and slipped peacefully into death.

But they would never have that time now. And without it, there was no point in trying to squeeze anything more out of a few more ninepulses. "No, that's okay," he told her, flipping his tails. "I'd better get going." He hesitated. "Good-bye, Drusni. And... be sure to say good-bye to Pranlo for me."