The Mote In God's Eye

Hardy sipped his brandy. It was very good, and he wondered where the Moties had obtained a supply for a model. This was undoubtedly a synthetic, and Hardy thought he could detect the difference, but he had to strain. "Very thoughtful of them to put this aboard." He sipped again.

"Too bad we'll have to leave all this," Horvath said. "We're doing all right with the recording, though. Holograms, x-rays, mass densities, radon emissions, and anything that comes apart we take apart and holo the contents. Commander Sinclair has been very helpful-the Navy can be very helpful sometimes. I wish it were always so."

Hardy shrugged. "Have you thought about the problem from the Navy's view? If you guess wrong, you've lost some information. If they guess wrong, they've endangered the race."

"Bosh. One planetful of Moties? No matter how advanced they are, there just aren't enough Moties to threaten the Empire. You know that, David."

"I suppose, Anthony. I don't think the Moties are a threat either. On the other' hand, I can't believe they're quite as simple and open as you seem to think. Of course I've had more time to think about them than you have."

"Eh?" Horvath prompted. He liked Chaplain Hardy. The clergyman always had interesting stories and ideas. Of course he'd be easy to talk to, his profession demanded it, but he wasn't a typical priest-or a typical Navy blockhead either.

Hardy smiled. "I can't perform any of my regular jobs, you know. Linguistic archeology? I'll never even learn the Motie language. As to the commission the Church gave me, I doubt if there's enough evidence to decide anything. Ship's chaplain isn't that time-consuming-what's left but to think about Moties?" He grinned again. "And contemplate the problems the missionaries will have on the next expedition-"

"Think the Church will send a mission?"

"Why not? Certainly no theological objections I can raise. Probably useless, though." Hardy chuckled. "I recall a story about missionaries in Heaven. They were discussing their former work, and one told of the thousands he'd converted. Another boasted of a whole planet of the fallen whom he had brought back to the Church. Finally they turned to this little chap at the end of the table and asked him how many souls he'd saved. ‘One.' Now that story Is supposed to illustrate a moral principle, but I can't help thinking that the missions to Mote Prime may produce it in, uh, real life. .

"David," Horvath said. There was a note of urgency in his voice, "The Church is going to be an important influence on Imperial policy regarding Moties. And I'm sure you know that the Cardinal will give great weight to your opinions when he reports to New Rome. Do you realize that what you conclude about Moties will be as influential as- Damn it, more influential. More influential than the scientific report, or perhaps even the Navy's."

"I'm aware of it." Hardy was serious. "It's influence I didn't ask for, Anthony. But I'm aware of the situation."

"All right." Horvath wasn't a pusher either. Or tried not to be, although sometimes he got carried away. Since he'd gone into scientific administration he'd had to learn to fight for his budgets, though. He sighed deeply and changed tactics. "I wish you'd help me with something right now. I'd like to take these statuettes back with us."

"Why not wish for the whole ship?" Hardy asked. "I do." He sipped his brandy again and cleared his throat. It was much easier to talk about Moties than about Imperial policies. "I noticed you were giving rather a lot of attention to the blank areas on the figures," he said mischievously.

Horvath frowned. "I did? Well, perhaps. Perhaps I did."

"You must have spent considerable time thinking about it. Didn't it strike you as odd that that's another area of Motie reticence?"

"Not really."

"It did me. It puzzles me."

Horvath shrugged, then leaned forward to pour more brandy for both of them. No point in saving it to be abandoned later. "They probably think theft sex lives are none of our business. How much detail did we give them?"

"Quite a lot. I had a long and happy married life," said Chaplain Hardy. "I may not be an expert on what makes a happy love life, but I know enough to teach Moties all they'll ever need to know. I didn't conceal anything, and I gather Sally Fowler didn't either. After all, they're aliens-we're scarcely tempting them with prurient desire." Hardy grinned.

Horvath did too. "You have a point, Doctor." He nodded thoughtfully. "Tell me, David-why did the Admiral insist on blasting the bodies after the funeral?"

"Why, I should have thought that-ah. Yes. And no one protested. We didn't want aliens dissecting our comrades."

"Precisely. Nothing to hide, just squeamish about aliens dissecting dead men. One thing the Tsar and I could agree on. Now, David, could the Moties feel the same way about reproductions of themselves?"