And all because the normally perverse demon of equipment glitches had chosen for once to smile on them. A simple interlock fault, plus a lot of ingenuity on Raimey's part, and Liadof was going to have to back out with her tail between her legs. For want of a nail, the old line echoed through his mind—

"Mr. Milligan," Liadof said suddenly. "What are those red lights on your board?"

"Excuse me?" Milligan said, frowning down at his board.

"Lift your hands," Liadof ordered, taking a step toward him. "Keep them away from the controls."

"I don't understand," Milligan said, his hands reluctantly coming up.

"I think you do," Liadof said icily, bending over for a closer look. "Mr. Boschwitz, what does

'proximity sensor lockdown' mean?"

"What?" Boschwitz asked. "Where?"

"All over Mr. Milligan's board," Liadof said. "What does it mean?"

Boschwitz hissed into the speaker. "It means we've found the problem," he said darkly. "One of the standard safety interlocks is that if a proximity sensor shows you up against something solid, you can't move that direction without an override. By overloading the whole batch of them, he's tweaked it so that they're all showing something solid. You can't go anywhere; ergo, the engines shut down to standby."

"Why didn't you override it?"

"Because the glitch kept changing," Boschwitz growled. "He must have been alternating between different sensor-group overloads to keep me from ever catching up with the right one. Keep his hands away from his board and I can get Omega moving."

Liadof looked up at the display. "It's too late," she said, her voice ominously quiet. "Go ahead and do the overrides and bring Omega back up to reel-in position. No hurry."

"Yes, Arbiter."

Liadof gazed down at Milligan. "Mr. Milligan. Do you have anything to say?"

Milligan folded his arms across his chest. "Not really."

She nodded as if that was the answer she'd been expecting. Shifting her gaze to the doorway, she hooked a finger in invitation to the remaining Sanctum cop. "Escort Mr. Milligan to the brig. And while you're at it, you can take Colonel Faraday back to his quarters. The show's over."

She looked at Faraday. "For now," she added.

Silently, Milligan stood up and walked toward the approaching guard. For a moment Liadof watched him go, her eyes betraying nothing of what was going on inside her. The cop reached Milligan and began to cuff him; and as he did so, Liadof turned around to face the sole remaining tech seated at the curved control board. "Or shall we go ahead and make it a clean sweep, Mr. Beach?" she invited.

Beach's lips compressing briefly. "I'd rather not, Arbiter," he said firmly. "I like my job. I'll stay."

She studied his profile briefly, then nodded. "Very well, Mr. Beach. Carry on."

She turned back to Faraday. "This isn't over yet, Colonel. But we'll speak about that later."

"I'm sure we will," Faraday said, standing up calmly as the Sanctum cop motioned him to his feet.

When push comes to crunch, he'd asked Sprenkle after that fateful meeting in his quarters a week and a half ago, are they going to stand with me?

He had his answer now. They would. And they had.

Or at least most of them had.

Beach had returned his attention to his board, giving Faraday a view of a studiously calm profile.

Still, three of the four had stood with him. That was a number he could be proud of. If he ever found a way out of this mess, he promised himself, he would make sure they were rewarded for their loyalty.

If.

The last of the trapped Breeders made it through the hole in the mesh; and only then did the big engines above Manta finally roar to life. Wonderful timing, he thought sardonically. Though he doubted it was the original timing the humans had had in mind.

Getting his fins moving, he swam away from it, keeping a careful eye on the front end of the cage.

Humans liked to keep their options open, he knew, and that cage could still hold a captured Protector or two.

But apparently they'd had enough. Instead of heading level or downward, as it would have if they were going to hunt more Qanska, the probe angled upward toward the distant clouds above.

It was over. And the Qanska had won.

Manta rolled over on his back and watched it leave, fatigue lying heavy on his fins as the emotion and tension of the battle began to drain out of him. Yes, the Qanska had won. But for him, at least, the victory was going to be mixed at best. That Protector had been right; he was going to have to answer to the Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise for everything that had happened today.

Both his own actions, and very likely those of the humans. As far as they were concerned, after all, he would always be Manta, child of the humans.

Should he try to talk with them? Use the subvocalization trick and ask them what in gritty wind they had been doing?

He flipped his tails decisively. No. They could have talked to him at any point along the way, either before they sent their probe or at any time since. If they hadn't been interested in his opinion then, they were unlikely to be interested in it now.

He smiled grimly to himself. He very much hoped that they had noticed his contribution to the Qanskan victory. Let them bask in the knowledge of what ignoring him had cost them.

The probe had receded to a tiny speck in the sky when he heard the distant scream of fear.

He rolled back over, a flash of resentment whistling through him as he forced tired muscles back into action. What now? Had more Vuuka sensed the commotion and come over to see what was going on?

Well, whatever it was, it wasn't his concern. He was just a Breeder, after all, as everyone on Jupiter was fond of telling him. This was the Protectors' job. Let them handle it. The cry for help came again—

And Manta jerked like he'd been hit by lightning.

It was Drusni's voice.

The fatigue in his muscles vanished as if it had been dropped into the Great Yellow Storm, replaced by a terrified strength. Female Breeders nearing birth can give off cues of receptiveness, Latranesto had told him. But mating at that time can kill the unborn young.

And in humans, Manta knew, a miscarriage usually involved a certain loss of blood....

He threw himself across the wind, the aching terror in his heart driving a terrible strength into his muscles. No, he pleaded with the universe. Please. Not Drusni.

And then, in the distance, he saw her, locked in a writhing struggle with two Vuuka only slightly smaller than she was. Fighting for her life.

And spraying all around was the bright yellow of Qanskan blood.

Something nudged against into his side. Manta twitched over, his rage boiling suddenly to the surface. Half curling, he slapped his tails as hard as he could at his attacker—

"Stay back," the Protector beside him ordered, grunting as Manta's tail slash caught him across his back just behind the ear. "You hear me? Stay back."

"To the Deep with you," Manta snarled, uncurling and lunging forward again.

"I said stop," the Protector barked, speeding up himself and catching up with Manta. He gave him another nudge for emphasis, a harder one this time. "We'll handle this."

Manta ignored him. Jaws clenched, he kept going—

And was nearly knocked upside down by the turbulence as four big Protectors suddenly shot past him, swimming toward Drusni and her attackers.

The Protector beside Manta took advantage of his momentary confusion to push himself into Manta's path. "It's under control," he growled. "You'd just be in the way."

"There'll be more of them," Manta warned, gasping for air. "All that blood—"

"We'll take care of it," the Protector insisted. "Besides, the Counselors and the Leaders and the Wise want to see you. Now."