The Mote In God's Eye

"That was clever. Oh, stop looking like a little boy. Yes, I want to marry you. I don't much like being commanded to do something I wanted to do anyway."

He studied her. "You were out from under for a long time. I never was."

"What?"

"The obligations that go with the titles. First you were en route to study primitive cultures-your own free choice. I went to the Academy for my Wanderjahr. Then you were in the prison camp, but even in that hellhole you weren't under any authority you could respect." He was choosing his words with great care. Sally was red with anger.

"Then MacArthur, as a guest. Under my authority then, remember? And you respected the fact to such an extent-"

"All right, I Stowed away when we captured the Crazy Eddie probe. You know why."

"Too right. Then New Scotland, where you were practically the highest rank around. You enjoyed that, didn't you? The few people above you weren't interested in making you do anything. And on to Mote Prime, doing exactly what you wanted to do in life. You were out from under for a long time. Now you're back in the box."

"That's what-it-feels like."

Rod flicked the flimsy in her hand. "Arrogant as hell. Right. It jarred me, but not the way it got to you. I've been under orders for a long time. All my life."

"It's the first time you've been ordered to marry any one, I take it."

"Yeah. But we've both been expecting something like that, haven't we? Politically, from an Empire standpoint, our marriage is just too good an alliance to pass up. We get the privileges, the property, the titles, and now the bill comes in. Blind luck we love each other, because we owe it to-"

"To whom?" she demanded.

Rod ginned helplessly. The idea was irresistibly funny. "To Kevin Renner. The Empire exists for the purpose of making it easier for Renner to play tourist. We owe this to Renner, and we're paid well for the privilege, and he's gonna collect."

She was awed. "Does he really think that way? My God, he does! He ordered me to your cabin!"

"What? He what?"

She giggled. "Fantastic. We ought to ask him and see what he does. Let me finish reading this, Rod."

PARAGRAPH I HAVE DISCRETION IN NAMING OTHER MEMBERS OF COMMISSION STOP WILL EXPECT YOUR HELP STOP EVERYBODY IN FIFTY PARSECS WANTS ON COMMISSION

STOP GWEN POWERS HIS MAJESTY DELEGATED TO US DON'T BLAINE THEM STOP YOUR FIRST TASK IS HELPING ME TO FILL OUT COMMISSION STOP SECOND WILL BE ARRANGING

EVIDENCE AND WITNESS LIST STOP

PARAGRAPH ADMIRAL KUTUZOV HAS ORDERS TO PUT YOU ABOARD MESSAGE SLOOP FOR RETURN BEST POSSIBLE SPEED TO NEW SCOTLAND STOP BRING SALLY IF YOU THINK

BEST AND FLIGHT SURGEON APPROVES STOP ADMIRAL WILL ASSUME RESPONSIBILITY FOR HORACE BURY STOP GET MOVING STOP KISS SALLY FOR ME STOP BREAK BREAK REGARDS

BENJAMIN BRIGHT FOWLER COMMA SENATOR OPEN PARENTHESES LORD PRESIDENT IMPERIAL COMMISSION EXTRAORDINARY ACTING FOR HIS MAJESTY LEONIDAS IX CLOSE PARENTHESES BREAK MESSAGE ENDSXX

"Am I going in the message sloop?" she asked.

"That's up to you. You're in condition. Want to?"

"Yes-there are a lot of things to arrange before the Moties get there- My God, we've got to settle things about the Moties, and there's the wedding- Rod, do you realize how big a deal the marriage of Crucis Court and the Fowler heir will be in a provincial capital? I'll need three secretaries, Uncle Ben's not going to be any use, and we've got to arrange for a reception for the Modes and- Oh, all right. Where were we?"

47 Homeward Bound

Kutuzov and Mikhailov went all out in preparing for Rod and Sally's farewell dinner party. Lenin's cooks worked all day to turn out a traditional Ekaterina banquet: dozens of courses, soups, pastries, roasts, stuffed grape leaves from the hydroponics farm, shish kebab, an endless stream of food; and between courses there were thimble glasses of vodka. It was impossible to talk during the meal, for as soon as one course was finished MacArthur's stewards brought another; or, to give a respite for digestion, Lenin's Marines performed dances transported from the Russian steppes to St. Ekaterina's hills and preserved nine hundred years by fanatics like Kutuzov.

Finally the bandsmen left and the stewards removed the dishes, leaving the guests with tea and more vodka. Lenin's junior midshipman toasted the Emperor, and Captain Mikhailov toasted the Tsarevitch Alexander, while the Admiral beamed.

"He can put on quite a show when he's not scared silly," Renner whispered to Cargill. "Never thought I'd say that- Here it comes. The Tsar himself's going to give a toast. Who's left?"

The Admiral stood and lifted his glass. "I will reserve my toast for one moment," he said thickly. It was possible that the endless glasses of vodka had affected him, but no one could be certain. "Captain Blaine, when next we meet roles will be reversed. Then you must tell me how to deal with Moties. I do not envy you that task."

"What's Horvath scowling about?" Cargill whispered. "He looks like somebody put a frog in his bunk."