The Mote In God's Eye

The plane banked sharply and fell again. Whitbread stared wide-eyed at the hard concrete sides of skyscrapers whipping past. They watched for Whites-and Warriors- but saw neither.

The plane slowed and leveled off two meters above the ground. They glided toward the Castle like a gull above waters. Staley braced himself at the windows and waited. Cars came at them and swerved around.

They were going to hit the Castle, he realized. Was the Brown trying to ram their way through like the cutter into MacArthur? The plane dropped joltingly and surged against brakes and thrust reverses. They were just beneath the Castle wall.

"Here, trade with me, Potter." Staley took the x-ray laser. "Now move out." The door wouldn't work for him and he waved at the Motie.

She threw the door wide. There was a two-meter space between wingtip and wall, making twenty-five meters in all. That wing of the aircraft had folded somehow. The Motie leaped into the street.

The humans dashed after her, with Whitbread carrying the magic sword in his left hand. The door might be locked, but it would never stand up to that,

The door was locked. Whitbread hefted the sword to hew through it, but his Mode waved him back. She examined a pair of dials set in the door, took one in each of the right hands, and as she twirled them turned a lever with her left arm. The door opened smoothly. "Meant to keep humans out," she said.

The entryway was empty. "Any way to barricade that damn door?" Staley asked. His voice sounded hollow, and he saw that the furnishings were gone from the room.

When there was no answer, Staley handed Potter the x-ray laser. "Keep guard here. You'll need the Moties to tell if someone coming through is an enemy. Come on, Whitbread." He turned and ran for the stairs.

Whitbread followed reluctantly. Horst climbed rapidly, leaving Whitbread out of breath when they reached the floor where their rooms were. "You got something against elevators?' Whitbread demanded. "Sir?"

Staley didn't answer. The door to Renner's room stood open, and Horst dashed inside. "God damn!"

"What's the matter?" Whitbread panted. He went through the door.

The room was empty. Even the bunks were removed.

There was no sign of the equipment Renner had left behind. "I was hoping to find something to talk to Lenin with," Staley growled. "Help me look. Maybe they stored our stuff in here somewhere."

They searched, but found nothing. On every floor it was the same: fixtures, beds, furniture, everything removed. The Castle was a hollow shell. They went back downstairs to the entryway.

"Are we alone?" Gavin Potter asked.

"Yeah," Staley replied. "And we'll starve pretty bloody quick if nothing worse. The place has been stripped."

Both Modes shrugged. "I'm a little surprised," Whitbread's Motie said. The two Moties twittered for a moment. "She doesn't know why either. It looks like the place won't be used again-"

"Well, they damn well know where we are," Staley growled. He took his helmet from his belt and connected the leads to his radio. Then he put the helmet on. "Lenin, this is Staley. Lenin, Lenin, Lenin, this is Midshipman Staley. Over."

"Mr. Staley, where in hell are you?" It was Captain Blaine.

"Captain! Thank God! Captain, we're holed up in- Wait one moment, sir." The Moties were twittering to each other, Whitbread's Mode tried to say something, but Staley didn't hear it. What he heard was a Mode speaking with Whitbread's voice- "Captain Blaine, sir. Where do you get your Trish Mist? Over."

"Staley, cut the goddamn comedy and report! Over."

"Sorry, sir, I really must know. You'll understand why I ask. Where do you get your Irish Mist? Over."

"Staley! I'm tired of the goddamn jokes!"

Horst took the helmet off. "It isn't the Captain," he said. "It's a Motie with the Captain's voice. One of yours?" he asked Whitbread's Motie.

"Probably. It was a stupid trick. Your Fyunch(click) would have known better. Which means she's not cooperating with my Master too well."

"There's no way to defend this place," Staley said. He looked around the entryway. It was about ten meters by thirty, and there was no furniture at all. The hangings and pictures which adorned the walls were gone. "Upstairs," Horst said. "We've got a better chance there." He led them back up to the living quarters floor, and they took positions at the end of the hail where they could cover the stairwell and elevator.

"Now what?" Whitbread asked.

"Now we wait," both Moties said in unison. A long hour passed.

The traffic sounds died away. It took - them a minute to notice, then it was obvious. No-thing moved outside.

"I'll have a look," Staley said. He went to a room and peered carefully out the window, standing well inside so that he wouldn't expose himself. - - -