There was a ripple of a new sound, something like fingernails scratching on a piece of flat slate. A

sound of respect or greeting? A ritual noise of greeting that they hadn't thought to mention to their human contacts up in Jupiter Prime?

Or were they just laughing at his accent?

You are welcome among us, Latranesto said. If I may remember in your presence, it has been a long time since my first meeting with your kind.

Raimey frowned. Could this possibly be...?

No, he realized. Latranesto couldn't possibly be the Qanska who had rescued Chippawa and Faraday and their crippled bathyscaph. That one had looked at least twice this size in the Skydiver's vid, probably even bigger. Besides, that had been twenty years ago. "I do not understand," he said, trying to match the other's tone and to pick up some of the nuances he was hearing. It would be nice if he was getting some of the words right, too. "When before have you met other humans?"

When before have you met other humans, you mean to say, the big Qanska said.

A correction, obviously. Only Raimey had no idea how the Counselor's version differed from his. So much for this communication stuff being easy. Salesman's cockiness, they'd called this in business school, and warned against it. The encounter was long ago, and very brief, Latranesto went on. I was the Baby who foolishly collided with the machine's cord.

Ah—so that was it. He'd been the baby Qanska who had bounced off the Skydiver's tether line. "I see," he said.

It was my fault that those humans inside neared death. Latranesto said. I left a taste of my blood on the cord, which was what drew the Vuuka to attack.

Raimey looked over at Latranesto's fin. Only the Vuuka's tail flukes remained uncovered by the Qanska's spreading skin, and they had long since ceased to beat at the air.

And Latranesto had a new surface lump for his already impressive collection. "So that was why it attacked you," he said. "A Qanska four times its size. It was attracted by your blood."

By blood, and by movement, Latranesto said. That was what drew it to you. By movement and blood do Vuuka hunt.

Raimey grimaced, remembering all that flailing around as he tried to get his new muscles to cooperate. "You could have said something," he said accusingly.

Your words have no clear meaning.

"I mean you should have warned us there would be a predator on my tail the minute I was born,"

Raimey said. "You should have had a Protector waiting, too."

From one of the Qanska under Latranesto's wide belly came a noise that sounded suspiciously like a harrumph. There is normally no need for a Protector, Latranesto rumbled. Qanskan babies are born still and quiet, and do not attract the Vuuka.

"Damn and a half," Faraday's voice murmured in the back of Raimey's brain.

Raimey felt his whole body twitch. To hear a human voice suddenly interjected into the rumbles of Qanskan conversation was startling. It felt very... alien. "What?" Raimey demanded.

"The atrophying umbilical cord," Faraday said. "That makes Qanskan babies slightly air-starved before birth so that they'll go to sleep."

Another voice, female-sounding, said something unintelligible in the background. "What was that?"

Raimey demanded.

There was a click of another microphone opening up. "I said, and then they're shot like a torpedo out of the birth canal," the voice repeated. Probably McCollum, the Qanskan expert, Raimey guessed.

"That gets it far enough away from the mother that any predators zeroing in on her movement or any blood from her afterbirth probably won't even notice the kid. Cool."

"We're glad you're impressed," Raimey growled. "Can everyone just shut up now? Okay?"

With an effort, he shifted his mind back to Qanskan tonals. "I understand that now," he rumbled to Latranesto. "I did not understand at the time." He hesitated for a moment, but he couldn't resist. "My people do not understand the Qanska as well as they think they do."

It is good that you learn, child of the humans, Latranesto said. That is why you are here, is it not?

Raimey felt himself frowning, or what would have been a frown if he'd had a human face to do it with. On the surface, the comment certainly seemed reasonable enough.

And yet, something about it struck him as being just a little bit odd. From the words alone, it could have been straight, sarcastic, indulgent, amused, or even offended. Again, he wished he had a better handle on the nuances that were clearly going over his head. "I am here to bring understanding and harmony between our two peoples," he improvised, hoping that would cover all the bases.

Of course you are, Latranesto said. And it is time that that harmony should begin.

"I'm ready," Raimey said. Distantly, he wished he'd had the foresight to take a few more Salesman's Technique classes back at school. The people-reading aspects taught there would have been a lot more useful here than all those stock market analysis labs he'd dripped the midnight sweat over.

"What's the first step?"

Before all else, you must learn to survive, Latranesto said. To that purpose, the Counselors, and the Leaders, and the Wise have chosen a companion for you.

He made a sound like a foghorn with a cold, and from behind him came a much smaller adult Qanska. This is Tigrallo, a Protector, Latranesto identified him. He and your mother, Mirasni, will look after you until you have learned all of what it means to be a Qanska.

"Thank you," Raimey said sourly, feeling a reflexive flicker of embarrassment. Here he was, twentythree years old, a full-grown adult human being, and they were saddling him with not just one but two baby-sitters.

He looked again at the fresh bulge on Latranesto's side, the bulge that had once been a Vuuka. On the other hand, there were worse things on Jupiter than a little embarrassment. "I thank you," he said again, and this time he meant it. "I am sure I will find their assistance of great value."

Then you will be a Qanska in truth, Latranesto said. You must also become a Qanska in name.

Raimey blinked. "I'm sorry?"

I do not understand sorrow for a name.

"No, that's not what I meant," Raimey said. "I meant—"

"Raimey," Faraday murmured in his ear.

"What?" Raimey snapped, annoyed at the interruption. Again, it was oddly difficult to switch back to English, even subvocalizing this way.

"I mean your name: Raimey," Faraday said. "It's a female Qanska's name. An I-sound ending. Male names end in an O-sound."

"That's nice to know," Raimey growled. "You suppose someone might have mentioned this to me a little sooner?"

"I'm sorry," Faraday said. "I just assumed the prep team would have told you that."

"Well, they didn't," Raimey said, disgusted with the whole lot of them. "What else haven't you told me?"

"I said I was sorry," Faraday said, an edge to his voice this time. "What else do you want?"

Raimey snorted. But then, what else should he have expected from a huge, stable, terminally comfortable operation like SkyLight? His Corporate History classes had demonstrated how, over and over again, fat and sassy led directly to sloppy and lazy.

Throw the contentious politicians of the Five Hundred into the mix and it only got worse. He should probably count himself lucky that they'd gotten him to the right planet.

Do you speak to your former people instead of to the Counselor? Tigrallo demanded, swimming a corkscrew pattern around him. His voice was less deep than Latranesto's, but Raimey could hear the same range of subtleties there.

And if Tigrallo was getting impatient, Latranesto probably was, too. "My apologies," Raimey said, switching back to tonals and trying mightily to come up with something clever for a name. Clever, and easier to remember than these jawbreaker types the rest of the Qanska seemed to have.