Which left only one question. If it was such a universally good plan, why weren't the Qanska in the Centerline region doing it?

Because they clearly weren't. He'd witnessed a fair number of births while he was swimming with the herd, and he'd heard about a lot more that he hadn't personally seen. And he'd certainly endured his fair share of the story circles where the leaders of the herd had pedantically listed the requirements and obligations and expectations in a young Qanska's life.

And in none of it had he seen, heard of, or heard about Brolka.

"They didn't tell you?" Gryntaro asked sardonically as he scooped up another mouthful. "Or were you just not paying attention?"

"Don't worry about it," Wirkani added encouragingly. "I'm sure there are things around each of us every day that we don't notice. Learning is what makes life exciting."

"Or maybe I was listening, but this was something they didn't talk about," Manta shot back.

"Because there aren't any Brolka in Centerline, and I wasn't supposed to know about them. You think?"

Gryntaro gruffed something and turned away. "It's not quite the way you make it sound, Manta,"

Wirkani said, sounding a little embarrassed. "If it's not talked about, it's because civilized Qanska don't do things that way anymore. We prefer to have our children alone, without any of these other...

complications. It's simpler, cleaner, and much less dangerous for the Breeder mother."

"I can understand that," Manta said, keeping his voice neutral. A nice theory, and he didn't believe it for a minute. As a business major he hadn't had much time for science courses; but those he had taken had made it clear that biological cycles and procedures rarely came down to a matter of personal choice. Certainly not the ones having to do with reproduction. Maybe the Centerline folk had convinced themselves it was more civilized, but there had to be something else behind it.

But what?

Impatiently, he shook the thought away. Once, he would have brought this information to the humans' attention, and he and McCollum would have spent a few ninedays nosing the possibilities and ramifications back and forth.

But now, as far as he was concerned, McCollum, her database, and all the rest of the humans could go to the Deep. The mysteries of life on Jupiter were none of his concern anymore. All he cared about now was his own survival.

He was chewing on yet another bite of ranshay, and gazing out into the distance to the north, when he saw the flicker of movement.

He caught his breath, freezing into immobility as his eyes tried to pierce the gathering darkness. It was back: the same person or thing that had been stalking them ever since they'd left Centerline.

It never came close enough for him to get a good look at it, but it was never very far away. At first he'd thought it was a hungry but shy Vuuka, looking for an opportunity to split one of them away from the others and get a quick meal. But subsequent glimpses had shown the stalker was the wrong shape for that. It was definitely a Qanska, and from the size probably a Breeder or small Protector.

And even though he'd never seen it clearly enough to identify the markings, he had long since concluded there was only one Qanska who could possibly be interested in stalking him this way.

Pranlo.

He shivered. Pranlo. The former friend whose bond-mate he'd attacked. Possibly even killed.

The former friend whose child he definitely had killed.

Which wasn't at all how it had been, of course. But it was how everyone else saw it. He doubted Pranlo would see it any differently than the rest of the world.

He looked over at Gryntaro. The Protector was eating stolidly away, rhythmically munching his ranshay calmly and only occasionally glancing around to watch for predators. If he had noticed their shadow, he wasn't showing any sign of it.

Should he tell him? Put him on his guard that there was trouble lurking in the eddies behind them?

He grimaced. No. If Pranlo was looking for revenge, let him go ahead and take it. It wouldn't bring back his dead child, but if it would make him feel better Manta was willing to pay the cost.

"You finished?" Wirkani asked.

Manta looked over at her. A tendril of ranshay was hanging out of the corner of her mouth, and as he watched the wind plucked it away. "Why?" he asked. "I thought we were staying here for the sundark."

"What, with this much light left?" Gryntaro said, flipping his tail at the near-perfect darkness around them. "Don't be silly. We can get a little farther before we stop."

"If you're finished eating, that is," Wirkani added.

Manta looked back toward where he'd seen Pranlo. But it was way too dark to see anything there now. Maybe Gryntaro and Wirkani had seen him, and this was their way of trying to lose him without worrying Manta.

But it didn't matter. He was ready to die anyway. If not this sundark, then whenever.

And one way or another, he had certainly lost his appetite. "Sure," he said. "Let's go."

The distant sunlight was in the eastern sky, and Wirkani was already awake when Manta dragged himself out of the swirl of unpleasant dreams he'd wrestled with all sundark. "Good sunlight, Manta," she greeted him cheerfully, her fin tips undulating as she held herself beside him. "Did you sleep well?"

"It wasn't too bad," Manta said, looking around. "Where's Gryntaro?"

"He thought he heard some predators moving around before light," she said, rolling over and doing some flip-stretches. "He went to take a quick look around."

Manta grimaced. Predators? Or Pranlo? "So where exactly are we going?"

"What do you mean?" Wirkani asked, rolling back over to face him.

"You told me the Counselors wanted me to see more of our world," Manta reminded her. "But we seem to be heading pretty much straight south."

"Where else should we be going?" she asked. "You already know what life is like along Centerline."

"North and south are where things are different," Gryntaro said gruffly from behind him.

Manta twitched violently; he hadn't heard the Protector's approach. "You sure are the jumpy one,"

Gryntaro commented, swimming around Manta to Wirkani's side. "We ready to go?"

"Sure," Manta said, looking around. There was no sign of anyone else nearby, either Pranlo or predators.

What there was, though, was a whole new group of colors floating along in the winds. "What's that?" he asked, flipping his tails toward them.

"Which one?" Wirkani asked. "The green-speckled-brown, or the purple-and-yellow?"

"Both," Manta said. "I've never seen either of them before."

"The green-and-brown one is fomprur," Wirkani told him. "The other is preester."

"The preester's better eating," Gryntaro added, flipping his fins and starting toward the flow of colors. "Let's do it and get out of here. We've still got a long way to go."

"Okay," Manta murmured, falling into the flow behind him. So there it was: the first appearance of Brolka yesterday coinciding with the equally sudden appearance of new varieties of foodstuffs. He'd gotten the feeling during his northern journey that that was how it worked, but back then he hadn't been paying close enough attention to be sure. This time, he was.

So what did that mean? He remembered speculating that it would only make sense for Breeders to have combined litters of Qanska and Brolka if there was enough food to go around. Did this mean that guess had been correct?

He snorted under his breath. Probably not. This was an ecology problem, after all, not a business one. He could try to think of it in terms of supply and demand if he wanted to, but that couldn't possibly be the entire story.

But then, why should he care about any deeper meanings anyway? As long as he had the system figured out well enough to survive, esoteric questions like this could go to the Deep.