Manta's Gift

"Do you remember what it was?" Faraday asked.

She shook her head. "Just that it was something really odd. I'm sorry."

Faraday hissed between his teeth. But then, he wasn't doing any better at pulling out the memories, either. The last week had been just too hectic. "Dr. Sprenkle, find me that record," he ordered. "I want to know what the hell Manta's got pla

Beside him, the massive human weapon lowered itself ponderously along on its relatively thin tether line. Even through all the shielding and pressure protection, Manta imagined he could see the faint glow of its internal radiation leaking out. All around him, the world was brightening as the sun made its all too rapid passage across the sky.

And above him, the humans' spy probe was fading into the mists of Level One.

It was almost time.

He found himself staring at the weapon as it sank through the air beside him. The very thought of what he was pla

But it had to be done. Already the human Liadof had shown the kind of negotiator she was; and Manta had studied humans like that in his business classes. Humans like Liadof never let a deal remain fixed. They would push and prod and argue and threaten and renege until they had everything they wanted.

And there was more Liadof wanted from the Qanska. Manta couldn't imagine what that might be, but it was sure as sundark that there was something. People like Liadof always wanted more. And the time she would most likely choose to spring her next demand would be right as the answer to their desperate problem was already in sight.

In other words, right about now.

Only the Qanska didn't have anything else to give her. And so she would push and prod and argue and threaten and renege... and when she didn't get whatever it was she thought they were holding back, she would reel the weapon back in and take it away from them.

It was up to Manta to make sure that didn't happen.

Up above, the watchful probe had completely vanished now. He and the weapon were out of the humans' sight.

Time to go.

He dived away from the glowing weapon casing, heading at a sharp angle downward toward Level Three. The tether was going to be the only really tricky part, but he'd had two and a half ninedays to come up with a plan.

He would find out now just how good a problem-solver he really was.

The probe he'd sabotaged was still where he'd left it, circling in the winds, its propellers spi

The weapon had made better progress than he'd expected during his absence, and he arrived at his projected interception point to find only the tether stretching downward toward the Deep. Flipping over, fighting against the strange tendency of the probe to turn sideways as he did, he started down the tether.

He caught up with the weapon near the bottom of Level Three. The co

But he'd pla

And he was ready. For you, human Liadof, he thought toward the clouds above, and swung the spi

The alarm from Milligan's control panel cut through the Control Room like a trapped banshee.

"Collision!" Milligan snapped. "Something's hit the tether!"

"Hit, nothing," McCollum corrected, jabbing a finger at the reading on one of the displays. "It's had a whole slice taken out of it."

"Abort deployment!" Faraday ordered, taking a long stride to Milligan's side. What the hell was happening? "Tether ship, you hear me? Stop it now."

"No!" Milligan insisted. "Colonel, we can't. Look at the tensile strength readings. You try to bring it up now, or even stop it, and the whole tether could snap."

Faraday ground his teeth helplessly as he looked at the readings. But Milligan was right.

"Countermand that, tether ship," he said. "Keep it moving down, as smooth and steady as possible.

Mr. Milligan, get Probe Four down there."

"On its way."

Faraday looked at Four's video display as the probe drove downward through the atmosphere. So far nothing but swirling air and the long black tether line...

And then, right at the edge of the display, there it was. The nuke, the now half-cut tether line—

And Manta, the rogue Probe Seven gripped in his mouth like a dolphin holding a prize salmon.

Using one of the probe's propellers to cut away at the tether line.

"Manta, stop!" he shouted. "Manta? Damn it. Milligan, get that probe into hearing range."

"He can hear you," McCollum said with a sigh. "He's just not listening."

"Get it down there anyway." Faraday gritted his teeth. With almost half the tether cut away, the nuke was being held up by little more now than a wing and a prayer. Any extra jostling, and they would lose it completely. "Sprenkle, what's the wind situation?"

"Holding steady," Sprenkle said. "And for whatever it's worth, I've got that conversation now. I think I've found the part we were all thinking of."

Faraday nodded grimly. "Go."

There was a soft click, and the computer's translation of Manta's voice came on the speaker.

"Strength is important," the voice said thoughtfully. "But it's mostly only a matter of size. With enough extra weight, even a Breeder could probably get through."

"That was it," McCollum said quietly. " 'With enough weight, even a Breeder could get through.'

We'd been talking about Level Eight and the Wise. Why mention Breeders at all?"

"Unless he was thinking about himself," Sprenkle murmured.

"Wait a second," Milligan said slowly. "Are you saying he's thinking about taking the nuke down himself?"

"Not thinking about it," Beach corrected, his voice dark. "By cutting the tether that way, he's pretty much committed himself to it. It'll never make it through the turbulence layers now. Not without some protection."

"But how does he think he's going to carry it?" Milligan demanded. "He can't just—oh, hell."

"You got it," McCollum said, her voice dark with dread. "He'll carry it the only way a Qanska can carry something that big."

"But why?" Milligan demanded, sounding bewildered. "Why is he doing this?"

"Because of Liadof," Faraday said. Now, too late, the whole thing was obvious. "Liadof, and the underhanded way she threatened to back out of the agreement so as to squeeze out the stargate's location. Manta's making sure she can't do it again."

On Probe Four's display, Manta had shifted his grip on the probe in his mouth, working it around so that the propeller end lay over the intersection of his body and his right fin. From looking like a prize salmon, the thought flicked through Faraday's mind, to becoming a giant back scratcher. "And there's no way for you to shut down the propellers?" he asked Milligan, just to make sure.

Milligan shook his head. "I've been trying for the last two minutes," he said. "He must have taken out the control lines when he wrecked the rudder. They'll keep spi