The Mote in God's Eye

They stood immobile. Sally took a deep breath and turned toward the air lock. “Let’s go,” she said. She tried again to smile, but it only made her look more nervous.

The starboard air lock had been reconnected to the embassy ship. They left by the port side. Lenin’s boat crew had already rigged lines from the auxiliary vessel to the cutter. The boat was almost a twin for MacArthur’s cutter, a flat-topped lifting body with a shovel-blade reentry shield hanging below the nose.

Sally pulled herself gently along the cable to Lenin’s cutter, then cautiously moved through the hatch, She was halted when she entered the airlock. The mechanism cycled, and she felt pressure again.

Her suit was a woven fabric that fitted like an extra skin. A baggy protective garment covered that. The only space inside her suit that she didn’t fill was the helmet that joined the skintight body stocking with a neck seal.

“It will be necessary to search you, my lady,” a guttural-voiced officer said. She looked around: two armed Marines stood in the air lock with her. Their weapons weren’t aimed at her—not quite. But they stood alertly, and they were afraid.

“What is this?” she demanded.

“All in good time, my lady,” the officer said. He assisted her in detaching the air-bottle backpack from her suit. It was thrust into a transparent plastic container. The officer looked into her helmet after he took that off, then put it in with the backpack and her coveralls. “Thank you,” he muttered. “You will please now go aft. The others will join you there.”

Renner and the other military personnel were treated differently. “Strip,” the officer said. “Everything, if you please.” The Marines did not even do them the courtesy of pointing their weapons slightly away. When they had removed everything—Renner even had to put his signet ring into the plastic container—they were sent forward. Another Marine officer indicated battle armor, and two Marines helped them into it. There were no weapons in sight now.

“Damnedest strip-tease act I ever saw,” Renner said to the pilot. The coxswain nodded. “Mind telling me what it’s about?”

“Your captain will explain, sir,” the coxswain said.

“More Brownies!” Renner exclaimed.

“Is that it, Mr. Renner?” Whitbread asked from behind him. The midshipman was climbing into battle armor as instructed. He hadn’t dared ask anyone else, but Renner was easy to talk to.

Renner shrugged. There was an air of unreality about the situation. The cutter was packed with Marines and armor—many were MacArthur’s Marines. Gunner Kelley watched impassively from near the air lock, and he held his weapon trained at its door.

“That’s all of them,” a voice announced.

“Where is Chaplain Hardy?” Renner asked.

“With the civilians, sir,” the coxswain said. “A minute, please.” He worked at the communications gear. The screen lit with Blaine’s face.

“Secure circuit, sir,” the coxswain announced.

“Thank you. Staley.”

“Yes, Captain?” the senior midshipman answered.

“Mr. Staley, this cutter will shortly come alongside Lenin. The civilians and cutter crew except Cox’n Lafferty will transfer to the battleship, where they will be inspected by security personnel. After they have left, you will take command of Lenin

’s number-one cutter and proceed to MacArthur. You will board MacArthur from the starboard side immediately aft of the starboard petty officers’ lounge. Your purpose is to create a diversion and engage any surviving enemies in that area in order to assist a group of civilians and Marines trapped in the lounge to escape. You will send Kelley and his Marines into that lounge with pressure suits and battle armor for twenty-five men. The equipment is already aboard. Send that party forward. Commander Cargill has secured the way forward of bulkhead one six zero.”

“Aye aye, sir.” Staley sounded incredulous. He stood at near-rigid attention despite the absence of gravity in the cutter.

Blaine almost smiled. At least there was a twitch to his lips. “The enemy, Mister, is several hundred miniature Moties. They are armed with hand weapons. Some have gas masks. They are not well organized, but they are quite deadly. You will satisfy yourself that there are no other passengers or crew in the midships starboard section of MacArthur. After that mission is accomplished, you will lead a party into the midships crew mess and send out the coffeepot. But be damned sure that pot is empty, Mr. Staley.”

“Coffeepot?” Renner said incredulously. Behind him Whitbread shook his head and murmured something to Potter.