And it was gaining.

"That's enough, Arbiter," Faraday said, the tightness of his throat making his voice sound strange in his ears. "Please. You already have more than enough. Just leave the others alone."

"Thank you for your advice," Liadof said coolly. "Mr. Boschwitz: those two on the left—the smaller ones. I want them both."

"Acknowledged, Arbiter," the voice replied from the ceiling speaker. "Commencing run."

Faraday took a deep breath. "Arbiter, this is completely and thoroughly unconscionable," he said, fighting hard against the frustration boiling inside him.

"Again, your opinion is noted, Colonel," Liadof said coldly. "But the base rule of negotiation is that the more cards in your hand, the stronger that hand is." She nodded toward the display. "Two more will make a nice even ten. A good number to have when the Leaders finally arrive."

Faraday looked over at the techs. Sprenkle was staring back at him out of the corner of his eye, his face rigid. Do something, that look seemed to say.

But all Faraday could do was give him a small, helpless shrug in return.

The probe was closing fast on the fleeing Qanska. Raimey pushed hard against the air, trying to get there first, a sense of unreality swirling through his mind like a poisonous mist. For Faraday to be deliberately chasing down Qanskan children this way was utterly beyond comprehension.

But chasing them down he most certainly was. Raimey was close enough now to see that the hundred-size lower shape was made of a loosely woven mesh; and inside, pressed against the back wall by the probe's speed, he could see the figures of several more Qanskan children, flailing away in helplessness and fear.

An old, almost alien memory flicked into his mind: himself as a human child, spending lazy summer days hunting frogs in the creek that ran behind his house. But he'd always put the frogs back again afterward.

That couldn't be what was happening here. Could it? The humans had had over twenty dayherds to study the Qanska before Raimey had even come here. Surely they didn't need to swoop down now and take fresh samples.

But whatever they needed or thought they needed, the bitter-cold fact was that that was what they were doing. Even as he charged toward the probe, the front end of the mesh opened wide like a gaping mouth. Some kind of tentacle shot out the gap, snaking its way straight to one of the swimming Babies.

And as the tentacle reached its target, the tip exploded into a tangle of smaller threads, wrapping securely around the small form.

The Baby screeched in terror. Its mother braked hard, fins slapping against the air as she cut around in a tight circle to come to her child's aid.

But there was nothing she could do. The tentacle was reeling the Baby in now, pulling it into the gaping mouth of the humans' cage with the inevitability of a pack of Sivra chewing their way under the skin. And then, even as she bit and slapped uselessly at the tentacle, a second cable shot out through the opening, barely missing her. A ninepulse later, a second Baby was being pulled in with the first.

The first Baby vanished into the mesh cage. Its mother seemed to hesitate; then she, too, swam inside with her child. The second Baby was pulled in with them, and the mouth swung closed again.

The deafening rumble of the engines faded, and the probe began to slow down, bouncing slightly in the buffeting of the winds.

"Manta!" a voice gasped from behind him.

An all-too-familiar voice. Raimey turned, his heart seizing up inside him.

And there she was, swimming up behind him like something from a dream, or a nightmare.

Drusni.

It was a moment he'd feared ever since making the decision to come back. He'd played the scenario over in his mind a thousand times, trying to anticipate every possible combination of emotion and conversation and conflict and outcome.

And now, in the midst of chaos, the moment had come. Here he floated, nose to nose with the female he realized now he still so desperately loved. Gazing at her, with the sounds of fear and panic raging behind him, he waited for the windstorm of emotion.

But it didn't come. The love he felt was still there, simmering deep within him. So was the pain that a portion of that love had decayed into.

But there was no anger, no recrimination, not even any awkwardness. For the moment, at least, the crisis swirling around them was driving everything else away.

"What's going on?" he demanded, swiveling around and coming alongside her so he could keep an eye on the probe.

"They're stealing our children," Drusni said, her voice trembling with fatigue and horror. "They said—I mean, a voice came and said—"

"Calm down," Raimey said, reaching over automatically to touch her fin with his.

She didn't recoil from his touch, as he'd half expected she would. Instead, to his surprise, she moved closer to him, pressing the side of her body against his as she huddled like a frightened child beneath his fin. "I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm just—I'm so scared."

"I know," Raimey said. "Me, too. Now, what exactly did they say?"

"They want something from us, but I don't understand what," she said. "Something that takes us back and forth between the great lights. Do you know what that means?"

"Unfortunately, yes," Raimey said grimly, anger and contempt swirling together with the fear in his stomach. So that was how it was going to be. No requests; no bargaining; no negotiation or trading.

Earth wanted that stardrive; and by the Deep, they were going to have it.

Even if they had to turn to kidnapping to get it. "And they said they would hold on to those children until we give it up?"

"Yes," Drusni said. "They said that someone was to deliver the message to the Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise, and call them here for a conversation."

Raimey lashed his tails furiously. What in the Deep was Faraday doing? Calling the Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise? He should know by now that only the Counselors could ever make it up to Level One, and they only with assistance. Had he lost his mind?

Or was Faraday even there anymore? Had he left the project, and someone else taken over?

Drusni shivered against him. "Why are they doing this?" she asked softly. "How many children are they going to take?"

"I don't know," Raimey said, pulling reluctantly away from her. Belatedly now, as he half turned to face her again, he noticed something he'd missed in their initial meeting: she was very pregnant. One of her children with Pranlo, no doubt. Distantly, he wondered how many others they'd had together.

And the humans up there were stealing children. No wonder she was on the edge of panic.

There was a sudden multiple thudding sound from the direction of the probe. Raimey turned again, to see that the pack of pursuing Protectors had caught up with it and resumed throwing themselves against the cage.

"But they're your own people," Drusni pleaded. "Can't you make them stop this?"

"I can try," Raimey said, searching his memory. It had been so long since he'd used that subvocalization trick. How had that worked again?

Ah. There—he had it. Faraday? he called silently. The English phonemes sounded starkly alien as they echoed through his mind, and he wondered if he was even getting them right. Faraday, where are you? What are you doing?

But there was no answer. Could he still be out of range?

Ridiculous. The probe was right there. If they could communicate with it, they could surely communicate with him.

Unless they simply didn't want to talk to him anymore.

His tails lashed viciously. So that was it. All they'd ever wanted in the first place was the Qanskan stardrive. Raimey had failed to get it for them; and so Raimey was no longer part of the plan.