The Mote In God's Eye

"Yes, sir." Jack Cargill spoke enthusiastically. "The Admiral asked me to assume the Moties have the secrets of the Drive and Field and estimate their military potential under those circumstances. I've plotted their naval strength-" He gestured to a petty officer and a graph appeared on the wardroom intercom screen.

Heads turned, and there was a moment of shocked silence. Someone gasped. "That many?-""Good God!"- "But that's bigger than the sector fleet-"

The curves rose steeply at first, showing conversion of Motie passenger and cargo ships to navy vessels. Then they flattened out, but began rising again.

"You can see the threat is quite high," Cargill said smoothly. "Within two years the Modes could put together a fleet that would be a significant challenge to the entire Imperial Navy."

"This is ridiculous," Horvath protested.

"Oh, no, sir," Cargill answered. "I was quite conservative in my estimate of their industrial capacities. We have the neutrino readings, and a good estimate of their energy generation-number of fusion plants, thermal output- and I assumed efficiencies no greater than our own, although I suspect they're better than that. God knows they've no shortage of skilled workmen."

"Where do they get the metals?" de Vandalia demanded. The geologist sounded puzzled. "They've mined everything on the planet and, if we can believe what they told us, on the asteroids."

"Conversion of existing stuff. Luxury items. Superfluous transportation vehicles. Right now every Master has a fleet of cars and trucks that could be consolidated. They'd have to do without some things, but remember-the Moties have all the metals of a whole planetary system already mined out." Cargill was glib, as if he'd expected all this. "A fleet uses a lot of metal, but it's not really very much compared to an entire industrial civilization's resources."

"Oh, all right!" Horvath snapped. "I'll grant you the capability estimates. But how the devil can you call it a threat estimate? The Moties aren't a threat."

Cargill looked annoyed. "It's a technical term. ‘Threat' in intelligence work refers to capabilities-"

"And not intentions. You've told me that before. Admiral, all this means is that we'd better be polite to their ambassadors, so they won't go all out building warships."

"That is not my interpretation," Kutuzov said. He seemed less imperious now; his voice was more smoothly modulated, whether because he wanted to convince the others or because he was more confident was not clear. "It means to me that we take every precaution to prevent Moties from obtaining secret of Langston Field."

There was more silence. Cargill's graphs were frightening in their simplicity. The Mote fleet was potentially larger than those of all the outies and rebels in the sector combined.

"Rod-is he right?" Sally asked.

"The figures are right," Blaine muttered grimly. "But- OK. Here goes." He raised his voice. "Admiral, I'm not certain we can protect the Field in any case."

Kutuzov turned toward him in silence and looked expectant.

"First, sir," Rod said carefully, "there is the risk that the Moties have already obtained that secret. From the Brownies." Pain crossed Rod's face, and he had to make an effort not to finger the bridge of his nose. "I don't believe they did, but it's possible. Second, they may have obtained it from the missing midshipmen. Both Whitbread and Staley knew enough to give them a good start..."

"Aye. Mr. Potter knew more," Sinclair seconded. "He was a verra studious lad, sir."

"Or Potter, then," Rod said. "I don't believe it happened, but it could."

"Ridiculous"-"As paranoid as the Tsar"-"They're dead." Several civilians spoke at once. Sally wondered what Rod was doing, but stayed quiet.

"Finally, the Moties know the Field exists. We've all seen what they can do-frictionless surfaces, differential permeabilities, realignment of molecular structures. Look what the Brownies did with Mac's generator! Frankly, Admiral, given that they know the Field is possible, it's only a question of time before their Engineers build one. Therefore, while protection of our technological secrets is important, it can't be the only consideration."

There was more excited chatter around the table, but the Admiral wasn't listening. He seemed to be thinking about what Rod had said.

Horvath took a breath to speak but controlled himself. Blaine had made the first visible impression on the Admiral, and Horvath was realist enough to know that anything he said would be rejected automatically. He nudged Hardy. "David, can't you say something?" he pleaded.

"We can take any precautions you like," Sally announced; "They accept the plague story, whether they believe it or not. They said their ambassadors would expect to be quarantined-surely they can't escape your security people, Admiral. And we won't have them long, you can Jump as soon as they're aboard."