But the humans had anticipated that possibility. The underside of the cage was fitted with a forest of jagged spikes, clearly designed to gouge their way into any Qanska who tried to press up against it with his back.

Raimey couldn't tell if they were sharp enough to penetrate the tough Qanskan skin all the way to the vital organs. But then, it was hardly necessary to stab any of the supporting Protectors to death. At the first release of blood, every Vuuka in sniffing range would instantly be on its way. Enough Qanskan blood, enough Vuuka, and the winds would shake with the sounds of the slaughter. And the babies would sink to their deaths anyway.

It made him wonder why the humans hadn't simply put spikes around the whole cage. Were they that confident that it could stand up to anything the Qanska could do?

Well, maybe the Protectors could surprise them a little. Keeping well clear of the spikes, Raimey headed for the far side where the main attack was taking place. He could feel his heart pounding inside him as an odd sense of light-headedness seemed to glaze over his vision. An old phrase of his grandmother's—so mad I couldn't see straight—flashed through his mind. Maybe it wasn't simply the hyperbole that he'd always assumed.

He rounded the bottom of the probe and started upward toward the group of Protectors. One of the attack lines was shorter than the others, he noted, and he headed over to take his place at the back.

Technically, of course, he wasn't even supposed to be here on Level One. Under the circumstances, though, he didn't expect the Protectors would complain about being offered extra help—

Abruptly, a startled jolt ran though him. He had been heading up toward the back of the attack line, hadn't he? At least, that was what he'd intended to do.

So why was he instead skimming close in to the surface of the cage, heading directly toward the impact line?

He flipped his fins and tail, trying to change direction. But to his stunned disbelief, he found himself speeding up instead. He tried again, and again. But nothing he could do made the slightest bit of difference. Somehow, he had lost all control of his body.

He was still trying to figure it out when he swam directly into the path of one of the attacking Protectors.

The Protector hit him just in front of his tails, the impact spinning him around and sending a flash of pain through his side. "Look out, you fool Breeder!" the Protector snapped. His momentum dissipated by the collision, he skidded past Raimey and bumped harmlessly against the mesh. "Get out of the way!"

Raimey would have given anything to do just that. But to his horror, he instead found himself cutting a tight circle and moving directly into the path of the next Protector. This one managed to veer mostly out of the way, merely scraping against Raimey's belly as he shot past. But the dodging had ruined his aim, sending him bouncing off the more flexible part of the mesh.

"What are you doing?" someone shouted. "Get out of the way!"

"I can't," Raimey said, his voice shaking with the beginnings of panic. "I can't control—"

He gasped, the rest of the protest cut off as the wind was knocked out of him. His rogue body had leaped into the path of yet another Protector, with the same results as the first two times. His vision hazed over, the images of Protector and machine wavering....

"—out!" someone shouted right into his ear.

Raimey started, snapping back to full consciousness as something began beating at his body. A

group of Protectors had surrounded him and were nudging him none too gently away from the cage.

"Come on, get out," the Protector ordered again.

"I'm trying," Raimey gasped. He was, too, as hard as he could. But it was no use. He could still feel his body; every touch, every ache and pain. But as far as muscle control was concerned, he might as well have been watching someone else entirely.

"What do you think you're doing?" the Protector snarled. They had shoved him away from the cage now, but Raimey's body was still perversely trying to force its way back. "You think this is a game?"

"No, of course not," Raimey panted, wishing desperately he could explain but knowing that the others wouldn't understand. They probably did think he was playing some game, that he was too stupid to see what was going on here.

He could hardly blame them. It was exactly as if he'd suddenly changed sides and become a blocker for the rival team.

Abruptly, he stiffened. A blocker for the rival team...

The humans.

And suddenly it all fell together. That sundark swim he'd taken in his sleep right after the Song of Change, when Faraday had first revealed what his true mission was on Jupiter. The Qanskan equivalent of sleepwalking, he'd assumed at the time.

But now he knew the truth. The subvocalization system wasn't the only thing the humans had built into his brain before sending him down here.

They'd also set up a remote control. And like a living puppet, they were using him against the Qanska.

The Contact Room had gone very quiet. The three techs sat stiffly at their stations, clearly hating the whole thing even as they carried out Liadof's orders. Liadof was silent, too, though hers was the silence of focus and anticipation.

And as for himself, Faraday was silent with the agony of fury and despair.

It was barbaric. That was the only word for it. To strip a person of his dignity and the use of his body this way was bad enough. But to then turn him against the people he'd lived with for nearly five years was utterly indefensible.

And it marked the end of any chance Raimey might ever have of fitting in with Qanskan society.

However this ended, whether Liadof got what she wanted or not, Raimey was already as good as dead.

It was too high a price to pay. Too high for a stardrive; too high even if the Qanska had held the cure to some horrible plague. Nothing could justify what Liadof was doing.

What Faraday, by his silent acquiescence back when the McCarthy setup was first proposed, had helped give her the power to do.

"Where is he?" Liadof demanded. She was leaning forward in her chair, her eyes darting back and forth between the various displays. "He's gone off-camera. Where is he?"

"Don't worry, he's not doing anything," Milligan muttered. "The Protectors are just pushing him away. They've gotten him underneath and behind the cage where there aren't any cameras."

"I want to see him," Liadof said. "What about that other spy probe, the one that's been following him?"

"I thought the idea was to keep that one far enough away that he wouldn't know it was there,"

Milligan reminded her.

"That doesn't matter anymore," Liadof told him. "Bring it in. I want to see what's going on. And get him back in there. I want him blocking again."

"They're not going to let him," Faraday told her, fighting to keep his voice under control. What was she trying to do, goad the rest of the Qanska into beating Raimey to death right in front of her?

"Can't you just leave him alone?"

"He'll be left alone when he's finished his job," Liadof told him tartly. "Right now, that job is to convince those Protectors that their attack is a waste of effort. That will facilitate our negotiating position when the Leaders get here."

"Why not just keep Omega moving instead?" Faraday asked. "You've got plenty of spare fuel. Keep it moving and the Protectors won't be able to mount a serious attack."

"I don't want to risk running out of fuel before we can get to wherever they've hidden their stardrive," Liadof said. "Mr. Beach, why isn't Raimey back in the firing line?"

"As Colonel Faraday said, the Protectors pushed him away," Beach said.

"Are they still on top of him?" Liadof demanded. "Well? Are they?"