The Mote in God's Eye

Dr. Horvath had been struggling to control himself, while Sally Fowler attempted without success to hide her amusement. Finally she laughed. “Commander Cargill, the Moties have had space travel and fusion power for centuries. If their buildings still have a fortress look, it must be traditional—there’s no possible purpose! You’re the military expert, just how would building your house that way help you against modern weapons?”

Cargill was silenced, but his expression showed he wasn’t convinced.

“You say they try to make their houses self-sufficient?” Rod asked. “Even in the city? But that is silly. They’d still have to bring in water.”

“It rained a lot,” said Renner. “Three days out of six.” Rod looked at the Sailing Master. Was he serious? “Did you know there are left-handed Moties?” Renner continued. “Everything reversed. Two six-fingered left hands, one massive right arm, and the swelling of the skull is on the right.”

“It took me half an hour to notice,” Whitbread laughed. “The new Motie behaved just like Jackson’s old one. He must have been briefed.”

“Left-handed,” said Rod. “Why not?” At least they’d changed the subject. The stewards brought in lunch and everyone fell to. When they finished it was time to leave for the Mote.

“A word with you, Mr. Renner,” Rod said as the Sailing Master was about to go. He waited until everyone but Cargill was gone. “I need an officer down there, and you’re the one senior man that I can spare who meets the Admiral’s restrictions. But although you’ve no weapons but your side arms, and no Marines, that’s a military expedition, and if it comes to it, you’re in charge.”

“Yes, sir,” Renner said. He sounded puzzled.

“If you had to shoot a man or a Motie, could you do it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You answered that very quickly, Mr. Renner.”

“I thought it over very slowly, some time past, when I knew I was joining the Navy. If I had decided I was incapable of shooting anyone, I’d have had to make damned sure the Captain knew it.”

Blaine nodded. “Next question. Can you recognize the need for military action in time to do something? Even if what you do is hopeless?”

“I think so. Captain, can I bring up something else? I do want to go back, and—”

“Speak your piece, Mr. Renner.”

“Captain, your Fyunch(click) went mad.”

“I’m aware of that,” Captain Blaine said coldly.

“I think the Tsar’s hypothetical Fyunch(click) would go mad much faster. What you want is the one officer aboard this ship who is least inclined to the military way of thinking.”

“Get aboard, Mr. Renner. And good luck.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Renner made no attempt to hide his lopsided grin as he left the cabin.

“He’ll do, Captain,” Cargill said.

“I hope so, Number One. Jack, do you think it was our military manner that drove my Motie crazy?”

“No, sir.” Cargill seemed positive.

“Then what did?”

“Captain, I don’t know. I don’t know a lot of things about those bug-eyed monsters. There’s only one thing I am sure of, and that is they’re learning more about us than we are about them.”

“Oh, come on, Number One. They take our people anywhere they ask to go. Sally says they’re bending over backwards—well, for them, that isn’t so hard to do—but anyway, she says they’re very cooperative. Not hiding a thing. You’ve always been scared of the Moties, haven’t you? Any idea why?”

“No, Captain.” Cargill looked closely at Blaine and decided that his boss wasn’t accusing him of funk. “I just don’t like the feel of this.” He glanced at his pocket computer to note the time. “I’ve got to hurry, Skipper. I’m supposed to help Mr. Bury with that coffee business.”

“Bury— Jack, I’ve been meaning to speak to you about him. His Motie lives on the embassy ship now. Bury’s moved to the cutter. What do they talk about?”

“Sir? They’re supposed to be negotiating trade deals—”

“Sure, but Bury knows a lot about the Empire. Economy, industry, general size of the Fleet, how many outies we’ve got to deal with, you name it and he’d probably know it.”

Cargill grinned. “He hasn’t let his right hand know how many fingers there are on the left, Captain. What’s he going to give the Motie for free? Besides, I’ve sort of made sure he won’t say anything you wouldn’t approve of.”

“Now how did you do that?”

“I told him we’d bugged every inch of the cutter, sir.” Cargill’s grin broadened. “Sure, he knows we can’t listen to every one of those bugs every time, but—”

Rod returned the grin. “I expect that’ll work. OK, you’d better move along to the Kaffee Klatsch—you sure you don’t mind helping with this?”

“Hell, Skipper, it was my idea. If Bury can show the cooks how to make better coffee during combat alerts, I might even change my opinion of him. Just why is he being kept a prisoner on this ship, anyway?”

“Prisoner? Commander Cargill—”

“Skipper, everybody in the crew knows there’s something funny about that man’s being aboard. The grapevine has it he’s implicated in the New Chicago revolt and you’re hanging onto him for the Admiralty. That’s about right, isn’t it?”