“Error-checking,” Jaza said. “The environment cosmozoans live in—all the hard radiation, the quantum distortions—they’d need a means to guard against harmful mutations. But one that at the same time would leave them free to evolve and maintain a healthy level of diversity. This kind of conscious design and revision of their genome—it’s perfect for that.”

“Yes, that’s it. That’s what I’m feeling from them. They sense that balance on an instinctive level. They only want what’s best for the baby. And so they try to give it the best of all of themselves, and the best of the kin they’ve lost.” She beamed, her eyes glistening. “There is such bittersweet joy in this.”

“Maybe this is why the Pa’haquel haven’t tried to domesticate the jellies,” Jaza mused. “Any attempt they made to reengineer them could be consciously undone during procreation. They have no choice but to take them from the wild.”

And so it continued for some time, the jellies transferring the embryo between them one by one, until all fourteen members of the school had left their mark on it. Then it was returned to the originator, but Jaza reported more replicator-like activity from inside it. “Second-draft revisions?” Vale suggested.

“Essentially,” Deanna said, still breathless. “They’re nearing consensus…very nearly…Yes,” she said, though it seemed she was holding herself back from shouting it. Riker had long since stopped watching the viewscreen, though the others on the bridge remained studiously focussed on their consoles. She grinned at Riker, eyes wide with wonder. “And now the quickening.”

“That would be an energy transfer,” Jaza interpreted. “They’re feeding energy into the embryo…its biosigns are growing stronger, stabilizing.” On the screen, the “mother” jelly, at the center of another column formation, glowed brighter, especially near its core, where a separate light seemed to be growing within it.

“We share the essence of our lost sibling,” Deanna said, falling into the first person plural once again.

“Or what’s left of it,” Jaza said. “Most of that energy was used in the conception process.”

Now the jellies completed their dance, each of them giving the “mother” a final caress. The others continued swirling around while the gravid jelly descended back to the nesting ground. “Permission to launch a probe, sir,” Jaza asked. “Just to get a better look at this.”

Deanna nodded briefly, indicating that the jellies wouldn’t be offended. “Granted,” Riker said.

Once the “mother” reached the hydrothermal lakes, the probe allowed them to watch from below and to the side as it reached up into its ventral cavity with all eight tentacles. Gingerly, it extracted the embryo, a glowing pod resembling a mother-of-pearl pumpkin, and lowered it slowly into the lake. Despite the delicacy of the action, it was still over forty meters wide, and the water displacement produced a set of prodigious but gentle waves radiating out across the lake.

Soon the pod was completely submerged, but Jaza reported its biosigns were still healthy and strong. “It’s extruding eight small anchors into the lakebed,” he said, reading sensor data from the probe. “I suppose those will grow into its geothermal roots. Eventually it’ll grow large enough to breach the surface again.”

The “mother” creature lingered for a few moments, and then rose up to join the others again. “Do they just leave them there?” Vale asked.

“They keep watch from orbit,” Deanna told her. “The young are fairly self-sufficient, and there’s little that can hurt them…short of a volcanic eruption, I’d say. And the adult jellies can speak to them telepathically, teach and nurture them that way…so in a sense they’re always together.”

“Even when this school is away?”

“They have a very communal sense of parenting. The children belong to them all.”

Jaza cleared his throat. “So…if they feel the young are safe…would they have any objection to us sending down an away team to study them?”

Deanna laughed, somewhat breathlessly after the extended wash of emotions she’d endured. “They would have no objections, Najem. But I would if you intend it to be anytime before morning. I’m exhausted.” She looked at the chronometer on her armside console. “And I hadn’t realized how far past end of shift it is.”

“All right,” Riker said. “Let’s all get some rest, and we’ll arrange a survey in the morning.” He and the others turned over their stations to the gamma-shift personnel who’d been waiting patiently, then made their way to the turbolifts.

But when Vale tried to get into the lift after Riker and Deanna, the counselor stopped her. “Would you mind?” Vale looked between them, then nodded and stepped back, allowing the doors to close. Deanna sighed heavily and fell against Riker. “Ohh, thank goodness.” She pulled him down to her and kissed him passionately.

When it finally ended, he grinned. “I thought you were exhausted.”

“From all the emotions of the mating. Which,” she added, “I really, really need to get out of my system as soon as possible.”

His grin widened. “Can you hold out until we get to our quarters?”

“I don’t know.” She had him pushed against the wall now. “Maybe you’d better have us beamed there.”

Chapter Eight

Elder Qui’hibra studied the sensation feeds with mixed feelings. The displays projected on the control atrium’s wall showed him the telltale signatures of a successful mating. On the one hand, he was glad the mating had gone well; he hoped the embryo would grow into a large, powerful skymount which would serve the Pa’haquel in generations to come. But it was frustrating that the energy fueling the mating had come from a kill that should have been serving his clan in the here and now. Those fools in their little metal toy of a starship had proven more of a nuisance than he’d expected, and would need to be taught the error of their ways soon, one way or another, lest they bring more disruption to the balance.

Next to him, Qui’chiri shivered. Qui’hibra allowed himself a private moment of amusement at his daughter’s melodramatic gesture. He knew that by now her hide had grown as tough as his; she’d inherited that from him, along with her mother’s beauty and genius for fleet management. She was simply offering a critique of his tactic: hiding the fleet in the breeding system’s outer cometary belt, one skymount at each of the most likely departure vectors, their shells camouflaged as ice and with internal heat reduced to minimum. It was not a particularly comfortable tactic, and he had overheard some griping, mainly among the young Pa’haquel males and the Vomnin and Shizadam crew members. (The Rianconi never complained about anything, though Qui’hibra suspected the cold was most troubling to their dainty, half-bare bodies. Conversely, the Fethetrit were prone to complain about everything, but their thick red fur gave them an edge here.) But if Qui’chiri’s only concern were her own comfort, she would not have wasted his time or her own with such weakness.

As he expected, a moment later she followed the gesture with words. “I still question the wisdom of this, Father,” she said. “To attack them so close to a breeding world…”

“So long as we do not make a pattern of it, the risk is manageable,” he replied. “And you know what is at stake, probably better than I. We lost a mighty mount to the cloud-shimmers, and several brave families. Our numbers are even more badly depleted than before. We must replenish them in time for the Great Hounding.”