The Mote in God's Eye

“Hah.” That didn’t need comment in Rod’s opinion. “Harm or good, immediately after this meeting we will sterilize this ship. Sinclair, have you arranged to evacuate hangar deck?”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Then do it. Open it to space, and see all the compartments in there are opened to space. I want that hangar deck dead. Commander Cargill, see that the essential watch crew are in battle armor. Alone in their battle armor, Number One. The rest of you give some thought to whatever equipment you have that can’t stand hard vacuum. When hangar deck’s done, Kelley’s Marines will help you get that into hangar deck; then we depressurize the rest of the ship. We’re going to put an end to Brownies once and for all.”

“But” — ”Hey, that’s silly” — ”My cultures will die” — “Goddamn regular Navy bastards are always” — ”Can he do that?” — ”Aye aye, Captain” — ”What the hell does he think he’s—”

“Tenn-shut!” Kelley’s roar cut through the babble.

“Captain, do you really have to be so vicious about it?” Sally asked.

He shrugged. “I think they’re cute too. So what? If I don’t order it done, the Admiral will anyway. Now, are we all agreed that the miniatures aren’t spies?”

“Not deliberate ones,” Renner said. “But, Captain, do you know about the incident with the pocket computer?”

“No.”

“The big Motie took Miss Fowler’s pocket computer apart. And put it back together again. It works.”

“Uh.” Rod made a sour face. “But that was the big brown Motie.”

“Which can talk to the little Moties. It made the miniatures give Mr. Bury his watch back,” Renner said.

“I’ve got the crew alerted, Captain,” Cargill reported. He was standing by the wardroom intercom. “I didn’t tell anyone anything. The crew thinks it’s a drill.”

“Good thinking, Jack. Seriously, everyone, what’s the objection to killing off these vermin? The big Motie did the same thing, and if, as you say, they’re only animals, there must be plenty more of them. We won’t be upsetting the big Moties one whit. Will we?”

“Well, no-oo,” said Sally. “But—”

Rod shook his head decisively. “There are plenty of reasons for killing them, and I haven’t heard any for keeping them around. We can take that as settled, then.”

Horvath shook his head. “But it’s all so drastic, Captain. Just what do we think we’re protecting?”

“The Alderson Drive, directly. Indirectly, the whole Empire, but mainly the Drive,” Cargill said seriously. “And don’t ask me why I think the Empire needs protecting from Moties. I don’t know, but—I think it does.”

“You won’t save the Drive. They’ve already got that,” Renner announced. He gave them all a lopsided smile as everyone in the room swiveled toward him.

“What?!” Rod demanded. “How?”

“Who’s the bloody traitor?” Sinclair demanded. “Name the scum!”

“Whoa! Hold it! Stop already!” Renner insisted. “They already had the Drive, Captain. I only learned an hour ago. It’s all recorded, let me show you.” He stood and went to the big screen. Images flashed across it until Renner found the place he wanted. He turned to the watchful group.

“It’s nice to be the center of attention—” Renner cut off at the sight of Rod’s glare. “This is a conversation between, uh, my Motie and myself. I’ll use split screens to show you both sides of it.” He touched the controls and the screen sprang to life: Renner on MacArthur’s bridge, his Fyunch(click) in the Motie embassy ship. Renner ran it at high speed until he found precisely what he wanted.

“You might have come from anywhere,” said Renner’s Motie. “Though it seems more likely that you came from a nearby star, such as—well, I can point to it.” Stellar images showed on a screen behind the Motie; screen within screens. She pointed with the upper right arm. The star was New Caledonia. “We know that you have an instantaneous drive, because of where you appeared.”

Renner’s image sat forward. “Where we appeared?”

“Yes. You appeared precisely in the…” Renner’s Motie seemed to search for a word. Visibly, she gave up. “Renner, I must tell you of a creature of legend.”

“Say on.” Renner’s image dialed for coffee. Coffee and stories, they went together.

“We will call him Crazy Eddie, if you like. He is a… he is like me, sometimes, and he is a Brown, an idiot savant tinker, sometimes. Always he does the wrong things for excellent reasons. He does the same things over and over, and they always bring disaster, and he never learns.”

There were small sounds of whispering in MacArthur’s wardroom. Renner’s image said, “For instance?”

Renner’s Motie’s image paused to think. It said, “When a city has grown so overlarge and crowded that it is in immediate danger of collapse… when food and clean water flow into the city at a rate just sufficient to feed every mouth, and every hand must work constantly to keep it that way… when all transportation is involved in moving vital supplies, and none is left over to move people out of the city should the need arise… then it is that Crazy Eddie leads the movers of garbage out on strike for better working conditions.”