by Timothy Zahn
Or had that been their plan all along?
"What makes you think he hasn't been around?" Pranlo countered. "Just because you haven't seen him?"
"Well, I could start by asking where he was when Gryntaro was getting ready to bite off my ear," Manta said pointedly.
Pranlo snorted. "Oh, come on. How do you think I got deep enough to go shooting up and bounce him off you?"
Manta stared at Virtamco. "But..."
"The Counselors had ordered you exiled," Virtamco said. "But I could see that Counselor Latranesto was unhappy with that requirement of the law. When I met Prantrulo, he didn't find it difficult to persuade me to assist him."
Manta sighed. "Look, Virtamco, I understand your feelings," he said. "But you can't let guilt control your actions. Especially guilt over something that wasn't really that bad."
"You don't understand, Manta," Virtamco said. "I came to ask your forgiveness, and I'm relieved and gratified that you've granted it to me. But that's not the only reason why I'm going to take the human machine to its place."
"The point is that we can't afford to lose you, Manta," Pranlo said. "Not just Drusni and me, because you're our friend, but all the Qanskan people. We need you."
"This won't be the end of our problems," Virtamco reminded him. "There will be more; and you, alone of all of us, have the gift of finding solutions."
"You wouldn't just abandon us, would you?" Pranlo added. "Surely you're not that selfish."
Manta took a deep breath, his tails twitching, his heart locked in indecision. "But I can't just ask someone to go die in my place," he said helplessly.
"Then we will take the decision from you," Virtamco said evenly. "Prantrulo?"
"I'm ready," Pranlo said.
Abruptly, the movement startling in its quickness, Virtamco flipped his tails and shoved himself toward them. Reflexively, Manta ducked—
And as the Protector's back swept past him, Pranlo opened his mouth wide, his teeth ripping across the skin.
"No!" Manta gasped, lunging uselessly forward as the yellow blood spattered across his face.
"Let me be," Virtamco said. Flipping around again, he slid smoothly beneath the descending weapon, letting it settle onto the fresh wound on his back. "I'll take it from here."
"This isn't right," Manta said again, his stomach twisting in guilt. "I should be the one doing this, not you."
"No," Virtamco said again. "Part of my task has always been to instruct you in the ways of the Qanska. I often failed in that task; but now, here, I offer my final lesson. You've already proven yourself willing to serve others, even to the point of giving of your life for them. That is indeed the height of wisdom, and honor, and courage."
He smiled. "But equally wise and honorable is to have the courage to allow others to serve you. Even many of the Wise never learn that lesson, or else have too much pride to allow it."
He flicked his tails in salute. "Farewell, Manta, child of the Qanska. I give you to your friends, and to your people."
Slowly, Manta let his fins come to a halt. Virtamco continued to sink downward; and as he watched, Manta could see the Protector's skin beginning to grow protectively up around the weapon.
Quietly, Pranlo and Drusni floated up beside him. Together, they watched until Virtamco was lost to view in the mists. "Come on, Manta," Pranlo said, touching his fin. "Time to go."
The Contact Room had been silent for a long time, each of them with their own private thoughts, when McCollum finally stirred. "Tether ship reports the weapon is in position," she said quietly.
"Thank you," Faraday said. "Are all Qanska clear of the area?"
"All probes show clear," Milligan said.
"And Latranesto has also confirmed everyone's out of range," Beach added.
"And Manta?" Faraday asked.
Sprenkle lifted his eyebrows. "He's clear, too," he said. "With the rest of his people."
Faraday nodded. Manta, child of the Qanska. Virtamco had been right, he realized. Matthew Raimey, self-centered human being, no longer existed. In his place was now Manta, child of the Qanska, mature beyond his years.
And if this worked as they all hoped, the greatest Protector his people had ever known.
Project Changeling had started in desperation and greed. It was ending in peace and a minor miracle.
Not bad for a few years' work.
"Activate the weapon, Mr. Milligan," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Let's do it."
EPILOGUE
"Hey, Manta! Wait up, will you?"
Manta rolled ponderously over onto his side, hearing the echoes of distant childhood in the deep voice rumbling from behind him. It was Drusni, of course, making her own ponderous way down toward him. "Hi, Drusni," he greeted her. "Is there trouble?"
"Not really," Drusni said, settling in beside him. "Pranlo sent a message down from the rear. We're starting to string out again."
"Right," Manta said, slowing his pace. In his eagerness to move ahead with this, he sometimes forgot that not all of those going with them had his same speed and stamina.
Or maybe just his same weight. Even among the Wise, he was considered pretty hefty. "How about you?" he asked. "You holding up okay?"
"I'm doing fine," she assured him. "I was thinking a while back that this is just like old times again. You, me, and Pranlo, sneaking off from the herd on some grand adventure. The Three Musketta, together again."
"Together forever," Manta said, rolling over again to look at the hundreds of other Wise filling the sky behind him. "Though I don't know if this exactly qualifies as leaving the herd behind."
"Oh, well, I was thinking of the herd as being the rest of the Qanska back there in Centerline," Drusni explained, flipping her tails toward the south. "The ones who are just too content with life here to strike out and try something new. That's the herd. This is more like we're sneaking off with a few friends."
She tapped his fin. "And speaking of friends, have you decided yet which of the females you're going to mate with when we reach the new world and get stripped back down to Breeders again?"
"Don't be silly," Manta said, gravely serious. "You know you're the only female I could ever truly love."
"Of course," she replied, equally serious. "I know that. But you have to think of the new world. You can't leave it to Pranlo and me to populate it all by ourselves, you know."
She flipped her tails. "Besides, some of those females strike me as the kind who'll be pretty pushy when they can frisk around again. I wouldn't want any of them getting the idea that I was standing between them and you."
Manta smiled. "Actually, there are a couple I'm considering," he told her. "Though I get the feeling Beltrenini thinks she deserves to be at the front of the line."
"And?" Drusni prompted. "Is she?"
"I don't know," Manta said reflectively. "After all that time she and I spent together in the northern regions, I might have trouble thinking of her as anything but a mother figure."
Drusni snorted. "Right. Trust me; when she's a Breeder again, you'll forget all that."
"Really," Manta murmured. "Imagine being able to remember way back to being a Breeder."
"Hey," Drusni said, slapping his fin in mock annoyance. "In case you've forgotten, I'm exactly the same age you are."
"Nonsense," Manta said huffily. "You're a whole nineday older."
"Am not," Drusni insisted. "Half a nineday at the most."
Manta smiled. "You know, I think you and Beltrenini are going to get along just fine together. Frightening though that thought might be."
"I hope so," Drusni said. "I like her a lot. And I think she'll make a great bond-mate for you."
"And besides, she's one of the pushy ones you were worried about?"
"You never heard that from me," Drusni said firmly. "And that just leaves one question."
"Which is?"
She flipped her tails. "Is it permissible to have Four Musketta at the same time?"
Manta smiled. "Absolu
tely."
"Good," Drusni said. "Then I'm ready. What was that phrase again? To the Deep, what?"
" To the Deep, ho,' " Manta told her.
"Right," Drusni said. "To Manta's Deep. Ho!"
With a surge of her fins, she pushed out in front of him. Manta smiled again, increasing his own speed to catch up with her. Echoes and memories of the past, indeed.
But as he gazed at Drusni, he knew that it was the present, not the past, that held the greater contentment and joy.
And it was the future that promised an infinitely greater adventure. For all of them.
Yes, indeed. Manta's Deep, ho!
"Magnetic fluctuations getting stronger," the young woman at the sensor station reported, her voice crisp and official. "We should be getting close, Commander."
"Acknowledged," the young man in the command chair replied, equally crisply. He was considerably older than the woman, of course, and undoubtedly well trained. But to Faraday, he still looked far too young to be in command of humanity's first colony ship to the stars.
But then, to Faraday, everyone aboard the Matthew Raimey looked far too young.
Well, almost everyone.
"They sure do teach parade and polish these days, don't they?" the man seated beside him murmured, the servos in his gravity suit humming softly as he shook his head. "I always worry that that much professional form is a way of painting over basic incompetence."
"Careful, Arbiter Hesse," Faraday admonished him. "You're far too young to become that cynical."
Hesse snorted. "Maybe to you I'm young," he countered. "To everyone else aboard, you and I are the Grand Old Spits of this trip. And you know it."
"Hey, I could have been the Grand Old Spit, singular," Faraday reminded him. "No one made you come along on this. You could have stayed on Earth with all that power and glory and comfort and been happy."
"You have a very warped view of happiness if you think it consists of sitting around with the rest of the Five Hundred discussing crop allocations," Hesse said dryly. "Besides, this is really nothing more than the final act of Project Changeling. How could I not be here? Any more than you could?"
"Nonsense," Faraday said. "I'm here solely because the Five Hundred find me awkward to have around anymore. How did you put it back then? Humanity needs a frontier for the restless and ambitious, and where the troublemakers can be dumped?"
"I think that last one was yours," Hesse pointed out. "Are you suggesting you're a troublemaker?"
"I'm certainly politically inconvenient," Faraday said. "Old heroes who refuse to fade into the sunset are like that."
He looked around the control room. "Fortunately for us, most of the rest of this particular crowd fall into the 'adventurous' category."
"Though that'll certainly change," Hesse murmured. "If this works, I imagine the Five Hundred will be commissioning a whole series of these ships. The malcontents will get their turn, never fear."
Faraday nodded. If it worked. But no one back on Earth would ever really know that, would they? All they could ever know would be whether or not the Raimey vanished into the Deep with Manta's group of Qanskan colonists. They wouldn't know if the huge colony ship made it out the other end, to whatever gas giant planet this particular Deep connected to. They wouldn't know if the Raimey would have the power to make it up out of the planet's gravity well and into that other, distant solar system.
And they wouldn't know whether or not there would be a planet in the system that could be made into a new home for the three thousand colonists crammed together inside the Raimey's pressure hull.
But then, no one aboard the ship knew those things, either. They weren't just adventurers, Faraday decided. They were the ultimate gamblers, staking everything on a single roll of the dice.
Absently, he stroked a fingertip across his myrtlewood ring. And speaking of gambling...
"You know, Albrecht, there's one thing I've never quite had the nerve to ask," he commented. "And just in case this doesn't work, it might be nice to know."
"Sure," Hesse said. "Ask away."
"Way back when Liadof was planning to destroy me to keep me from interfering with her plans for Changeling, she sent you to my quarters with that treasonous document for me to sign," Faraday said. "You remember?"
"Like it was yesterday," Hesse said, smiling. "I'll never forget the look on her face when she saw that 'Charlie the Carp' you'd written on the signature line."
"Me, neither," Faraday said. "And that's the question. You'd carried that paper all the way from my quarters to the Contact Room, walking along behind me. After that you had it sitting in your pocket, over in a corner, while the rest of us hashed things over with Manta and the other Qanska."
He lifted his eyebrows. "Tell me the truth. Didn't you ever just take it out to see whether I'd signed it properly?"
Hesse's wrinkled face was the image of perfect innocence. "General Faraday, I'm surprised at you," he said reprovingly. "I was under Arbiter Liadof's authority at that time, constrained by law to support her in every way possible. If I'd realized she'd stepped out onto an unsupported limb that way, don't you think I would have said something to keep her from moving still farther along it?"
He waved a servo-enhanced hand. "I mean, even with your future and the fate of the Qanska hanging in the balance, my legal obligations were perfectly clear."
"Of course," Faraday murmured. "Forgive me for even asking."
"I should think so," Hesse said. "Well, I think I'm going to the mess hall for a cup of tea. Lieutenant Seibei's optimism notwithstanding, I think it'll be a while yet before we hit the Deep. Would you care to join me?"
"Not right now," Faraday told him. "I was thinking of taking a quick nap."
There was a distant creaking of seams. "Be my guest," Hesse said, throwing a suspicious glance at the ceiling. "Though how you can sleep comfortably knowing what's out there is beyond me."
"Just a matter of practice," Faraday assured him. "I've been here before, you know."
"Right." With a hum of servos, Hesse got to his feet. "I'll see you later. Happy dreams."
"Thank you," Faraday said. "Happy tea."
Hesse waddled his way to the door and left. Shifting his attention to the bank of displays, Faraday gazed at the awesome view of the hundreds of Qanskan Wise blazing the trail ahead of them. Qanska who were leaving Jupiter, not because they had to, but because they wanted to.
It would work, he knew. It would all work. This many eager gamblers couldn't possibly be wrong.
And with the soft sounds of the beeping instruments and the muffled rumbling of the wind outside tugging soothingly at his ears, he drifted off to sleep.