The Mote In God's Eye

Whitbread yawned and looked at the alien beside him. "I think I called you brother, some time last night."

"I know. You meant sister. Gender is important to us, too. A matter of life and death."

"I'm not sure I mean that either. I meant friend," Whitbread said with some awkwardness.

"Fyunch(click) is a closer relationship. But I am glad to be your friend," said the Motie. "I wouldn't have given up the experience of knowing you."

The silence was embarrassing. "I better wake up the others," Whitbread said softly.

The plane banked sharply and turned northwards, Whitbread's Mode looked out at the city below, across to the other side to be sure of the location of the sun, then down again. She got up and went forward into the pilot's compartment, and twittered. Charlie answered and they twittered again.

"Horst," Whitbread said. "Mr. Staley. Wake up."

Horst Staley had forced himself to sleep. He was still as rigid as a statue, the rocket launcher across his lap, his hands gripping it tightly.

"Yeah?"

"I don't know. We changed course, and now-listen," Whitbread said. The Moties were still chattering. Their voices grew louder.

38 Final Solution

Whitbread's Mode came back to her seat. "It's started," she said. She didn't sound like Whitbread now. She sounded like an alien. "War."

"Who?" Staley demanded.

"My Master and King Peter. The others haven't joined in yet, but they will."

"War over us?" Whitbread asked incredulously. He was ready to cry. The transformation in his Fyunch(click) was too much to bear.

"Over jurisdiction over you," the Motie corrected. She shivered, relaxed, and suddenly Whitbread's voice spoke to them from the half-smiling alien lips. "It's not too bad yet. Just Warriors, and raids. Each one wants to show the other what she could do, without destroying anything really valuable. There'll be a lot of pressure from the other decision makers to keep it that way They don't want to be in a fallout pattern."

"God's teeth," said Whitbread. He gulped. "But-welcome back, brother."

"Where does that leave us?" Staley demanded. "Where do we go now?"

"A neutral place. The Castle."

"Castle?" Horst shouted. "That's your Master's territory? His hand was very near his pistol again.

"Think the others would give my Master that much control over you? The Mediators you met were all part of my clan, but the Castle itself belongs to a sterile decision maker. A Keeper."

Staley looked distrustful. "What do we do once we're there?"

The Motie shrugged "Wait and see who wins. If King Peter wins he's going to send you back to Lenin. Maybe this war will convince the Empire that it's better to leave us alone. Maybe you can even help us." The Motie gestured disgustedly. "Help us. He's Crazy Eddie too. There'll never be an end to the Cycles."

"Wait?" Staley muttered. "Not me, damn it. Where is this Master of yours?"

"No!" the Motie shouted. "Horst, I can't help you with something like that. Besides, you'd never get past the Warriors. They're good, Horst, better than your Marines; and what are you? Three junior officers with damn little experience and some weapons you got from an old museum."

Staley looked below. Castle City was ahead. He saw tile space port, an open space among many, but gray, not green. Beyond it was the Castle, a spire circled by a balcony. Small as it was, it stood out among the industrial ugliness of the endless cityscape.

There was communications gear in their baggage. When Renner and the others came up, the Sailing Master had left everything but their notes and records in the Castle. He hadn't said why, but now they knew: he wanted the Moties to think they would return.

There might even be enough to build a good transmitter. Something that would reach Lenin. "Can we land in the street?" Staley asked.

"In the street?" The Motie blinked. "Why not? If Charlie agrees. This is her aircraft." Whitbread's Mode trilled. There were answering hums and clicks from the cockpit.

"You're sure the Castle is safe?" Staley asked. "Whitbread, do you trust the Moties?"

"I trust this one. But I may be a little prejudiced, Hor-Mr. Staley. You'll have to make your own judgment."

"Charlie says the Castle is empty, and the ban on Warriors in Castle City still holds," Whitbread's Motie said. "She also says King Peter's winning, but she's only hearing reports from her side."

"Will she land near to the Castle?" Staley asked.

"Why not? We have to buzz the street first, to warn the Browns to look up." The Motie trilled again.

The grumble of motors died to a whisper. Wings spread again, and the plane dipped lower, falling almost straight down to pull level with a swoop. It whizzed past the Castle, giving them a view of its balconies. Traffic moved below, and Staley saw a White on the pedestrian walkway across from the Castle. The Master ducked quickly into a building.

"No demons," Staley said. "Anybody see Warriors?"

"No."

"Nae."

"Me neither."