Under the circumstances, they could certainly spare the delay. “Permission granted to divert from probe deployment to retrieve the captain.”

“Aye, Commander! Diverting to retrieve the captain!”came Bolaji’s immediate reply.

Another voice intruded on the channel. “Aili, is that really you? Ah, Ra-Havreii here!”From the background noise, he was still in the scouter gig, heading toward the base at top speed. Vale wondered if the base would provide any refuge for him by the time he arrived.

“Xin! It’s good to hear your voices, all of you.”

“Aili, we could really use your diplomacy right now. We’re under attack from the squales!”

“What? Why? What did you do?”

“Wha—what the hell do you mean, what didwe do?! We’re only trying to save their whole damned planet, and they’re showing their gratitude by trying to kill me!”

“Hello, superior officer here!” Vale shouted. “Listen, Aili. Are you on good terms with the squales?” It stood to reason, if she and Riker were still alive.

“Some of them, Commander.”

“Well, it’s a start. Ra-Havreii’s right, we’re having a diplomatic meltdown of the potentially fatal variety, and I don’t just mean for us. Listen—”

As Vale spelled out the immediate threat to her crewmates and the larger threat to Droplet in a few terse sentences, Aili absorbed it with growing dismay. She understood perfectly why the squales were so afraid and angry, so she could not blame them for their actions. But if they couldn’t be made to understand the truth, their own fear would doom them.

And Aili Lavena was the only one who could make them understand. Only she knew them well enough to make the case in terms that would hold meaning for them. The fate of this entire world rested on her voice.

Why me?an old, familiar part of her asked. I can’t handle this. There must be someone else.

But that impulse was quickly damped. Aili was done running from responsibility. She’d always done more harm than good that way.

“Acknowledged,” she told Vale. “I’ll talk to them. All of them. But I have to leave the probe. I need the squales’ help, and they can’t stand being close to it.”

“We can damp the EM fields now. We can drop more probes, get your message out quicker.”

“It won’t work, Commander. They don’t hear speakers the same way as voice. I need to do this the natural way. Through the ri’Hoyalina—the deep sound channel. It will take a few hours, but it’s the only way.”

After a brief pause, Vale said, “Do it. We’ll hold out as long as we can.”

“Acknowledged, Commander. Good luck. And…take care of the captain.”

“We will, Aili. Good luck to you too—for everyone’s sake. Vale out.”

Aili swam toward the squales and began singing, loudly enough to reach the whole contact pod. She had to persuade them to help her, for not enough of the squales knew her language, and her voice alone could not carry far enough through the ri’Hoyalina. Expressing her gratitude for all their help, she pleaded with them to help her one more time, and help save their world in the process.

They were reluctant, though. By now, the first reports were reaching them through the long-range channel—songs of fury from squales elsewhere on the planet, battling the perceived invasion of their world. Aili’s voice had to outweigh that angry chorus, and it was hard. The defender squales went on their guard, like troops reacting to a declaration of war, and counseled against doing anything to help the offworlders. Alos and Gasa came to Aili’s defense, but Cham argued them down, scoffing at the notion that dumping lifeless, alien things into the World Below, the very source of the Song, could heal it rather than harming it worse. Aili hoped Melo would come to her defense again, but the elderly pod leader seemed uncertain, more comfortable with abstract science and philosophy than concrete political decisions.

Still, Aili pleaded with them. “You know me,” she sang, using Selkie but approximating their musical idiom as closely as she could. “You have saved my life, and his, so many times. You’re podmates to me, all of you. Would I betray you now?”

“The others…”Cham began.

“They’re the same as me. They’d do no willing harm. And listen,”she said, calling their attention to the news of battles from distant fronts. “They would give their lives to mend the harm they’ve done. To save your people, even if you kill them in return.

“You know me. You, of all the squales, have touched another world, and felt its Song. Through me. Your sister. Trust what you have heard. Trust me, if no one else. I only ask you, help me sing!”

Alos and Gasa swam to her side. “We shall,”they sang in chorus. “She is our podmate. Our responsibility! Must students teach our mentors now where obligation lies?”

“Your duty’s to the Song!”Cham intoned.

“And that’s the duty that we serve! All things are voices in the Song; they play their destined parts. Aili and we, converging here, as discord finds its peak—might this not be the key that will resolve the Song again?”

The two young squales told Aili to sing her case to the world; they would amplify it for her if no one else would. The defender squales swam forward, but Cham interceded; despite his distrust of Aili, he was angered that they would threaten to turn on podmates. Taking a chance that she would not be stopped, Aili began to sing in Selkie, as loudly as she could. The boys joined her in harmony: Gasa repeated her Selkie words, mimicking her voice as perfectly as any amplifier, but adding strength so it could carry further; while Alos sang the squale translation as a counterpoint. A humanoid might have been confused, but the squales normally communicated this way, in multiple parallel lines of song.