The Mote in God's Eye (72 page)

“Am I also Crazy Eddie, to launch the probe at all? The strategy did not work. Now we must tell these humans something.”

“I say tell them all,” Charlie said. “What else can we do? We are caught in our own lies.”

“Wait,” Ivan commanded. Only seconds had passed, but Jock was normal again. The humans were staring curiously. “We must say something momentous. Hardy knows we are excited. True?”

“Yes,” Charlie gestured.

“What discovery could so have excited us?”

“Trust me,” Jock said quickly. “We may yet be saved. 
Demon worshipers! We told you we have no racial enemies, and this is true; but there is a religious faction, secret, which makes gods of the time demons. They are vicious, and very dangerous. They must have seized the probe before it left the asteroid belt. Secretly, perhaps—”

“Then the passengers and crew were alive?” Rod asked.

Charlie shrugged. “I believe so. They must have committed suicide. Who knows why? Possibly they thought we had developed a faster-than-light drive and were waiting for them. What did you do when you approached them?”

“Sent messages in most human languages,” Rod answered. “You’re sure they were alive?”

“How would we know?” Jock asked. “Do not be concerned about
them
.” The voice was filled with contempt. “They were not proper representatives of our race. Their rituals include sacrifice of sentient classes.”

“Just how many of these demon worshipers are there?” Hardy asked. “I was never told of them.”

“We are not proud of their existence,” Jock answered. “Did you tell us of outies? Of the excesses of Sauron System? Are you pleased that we know humans are capable of such things?”

There were embarrassed murmurs.

“Damn,” Rod said quietly. “They were alive after all—after all that distance.” The thought was bitter.

“You are distressed,” Jock said. “We are pleased that you did not speak to them before you met us. Your expedition would have been of quite a different character if you had—”

She stopped, watching curiously. Dr. Sigmund Horowitz had risen from his seat and was bent against the screen, examining the time-machine picture. He fingered the screen controls to enlarge one of the demon statuettes. The silhouette from the probe faded, leaving half the screen blank, then another picture came on and grew and grew—a sharp-fanged, rat-faced creature squatting on a pile of rubble.

“Aha!” Horowitz shouted in triumph. “I wondered what the ancestry of the rats could be! Degenerate forms of this...” He turned to the Moties. There was nothing in his manner but curiosity, as if he’d paid no attention to the conversation before. “What do you use this caste for?” he asked. “Soldiers, aren’t they? Have to be. What else would they be good for?”

“No. They are only myths.”

“Balderdash. Demons with weapons? Father Hardy, can you imagine devils carrying blast rifles?” Horowitz fingered the controls again and the probe silhouette appeared. “Abraham’s Beard! That’s no statue. Come now, this is a Motie subspecies. Why do you hide it? Fascinating— I’ve never seen anything so well adapted for...” Horowitz’ voice trailed off.

“A Warrior caste,” Ben Fowler said slowly. “I don’t wonder that you hid it from us. Dr. Horowitz, would you suppose that—creature—is as prolific as we know the other Moties can be?”

“Why not?”

“But I tell you the demons are legendary,” Jock insisted. “The poem. Dr. Hardy, you recall the poem? These are the creatures who made the skies fall.”

“I believe that,” Hardy said. “I’m not sure I believe they’re extinct. You keep their feral descendants in zoos. Anthony, I put a hypothetical question to you: If the Moties have a very prolific caste devoted to warfare; their Masters have pride in independence similar to terran lions; they have had several disastrous wars; and they are hopelessly trapped in a single planetary system: what is the most reasonable projection of their history?”

Horvath shuddered. So did the others. “Like—
MacArthur
,” Horvath answered sadly. “Cooperation among Masters must break down when population pressures become severe enough . . .
if
that’s really a current caste, David.”

“But I tell you again, they are legendary demons,” Jock protested.

“I’m afraid we don’t believe everything you tell us,” Hardy said. There was deep sadness in his voice. “Not that I ever accepted everything you said. Priests hear a lot of lies. But I always did wonder what you were hiding. It would have been better if you’d shown us some kind of military or police forces. But you couldn’t, could you? They were—” he gestured at the screen. “Those.”

“Rod,” Senator Fowler said. “You look pretty grim.”

“Yes, sir. I was thinking what it would be like to fight a race that’s bred Warriors for ten thousand years. Those things must be adapted to space warfare too. Give the Moties Field technology, and—Ben, I don’t think we could beat them! It’d be like trying to fight millions of Sauron cyborgs! Hell, the couple of thousand they had were enough to keep the war going for years!”

Sally listened helplessly. “But what if Jock’s telling the truth? Couldn’t she be right? There was a Warrior caste, it’s extinct now, and outlaw Moties—want to bring them back.”

 “Easy enough to find out,” Fowler muttered. “And best done fast, before the Motie Browns build a fleet that could stop us.”

“If they haven’t already,” Rod muttered. “They work so fast. They rebuilt the embassy ship while it was on its way to
MacArthur
. A complete overhaul, with two Browns and some Watchmakers. I think Commander Cargill’s threat estimate may be a bit conservative, Senator.”

“Even if it isn’t,” said Renner, “we still have to picture every ship captained and crewed by Admiral Kutuzov.”

“Right. Okay, Jock. You see our situation,” said the Senator.

“Not really.” The Motie was crouched forward and looked very alien.

“I’ll spell it out. We don’t have the resources to fight a million critters evolved for warfare. Maybe we’d win, may be not. If you keep those things around, it’s because you need ‘em; your system’s too crowded to keep useless mouths. If you need ‘em, you fight wars.”

“I see,” Jock said carefully.

“No, you don’t,” the Senator growled. “You know something about the Sauron System, but not enough. Jock, if you Moties breed Warrior castes, our people are goin’ to identify you with Saurons, and I don’t think you appreciate just how much the Empire hated them and their superman ideas.”

“What will you do?” Jock asked.

“Take a look at your system. A
real
look.”

“And if you find Warriors?”

“We don’t need to look, do we?” Senator Fowler demanded. “You know we’ll find ‘em.” He sighed heavily. His pause for thought was very short—no more than a second. Then he stood and went to the view screen, walking slowly, like a juggernaut—

“What will we do? Can we not stop him?” Jock wailed.

Ivan remained calm. “It would do no good, and you could not do it. That Marine is no Warrior, but he is armed and his hand is on his weapon. He fears us.”

“But—”

“Listen.”

“Conference call,” Fowler told the Palace operator. “I want Prince Merrill and War Minister Armstrong. Personally, and I don’t give a damn where they are. I want ‘em now.”

“Yes, Senator.” The girl was young, and frightened by the Senator’s manner. She fumbled with her equipment, and the room was still for a time.

Minister Armstrong was in his office. His tunic was missing and his shirt unbuttoned. Papers littered his desk. He looked up in irritation, saw who was calling, and muttered, “Aye?”

“A moment,” Fowler said brusquely. “I’m getting the Viceroy on a conference circuit.” There was another long wait.

His Highness came on; the screen showed his face only. He seemed breathless. “Yes, Senator?”

“Your Highness, you have seen my Commission from the Emperor?”

“Yes.”

“You accept my authority in all matters having to do with the aliens?”

“Of course.”

“As representative of His Imperial Majesty I order you to assemble the sector battle fleet as quickly as possible. You will place Admiral Kutuzov in command to await my orders.”

There was more silence on the screens. An irritating babble filled the conference room. Ben gestured imperiously for silence and it cut off.

“As a matter of form, Senator,” Merrill said carefully, “I will require confirmation of that order from another member of the Commission.”

“Yeah. Rod.”

And here it is, Rod thought. He didn’t dare look at Sally. A race of Warriors? Independent Masters? We can’t let them get out into human space. We wouldn’t last a century.

The Moties are frozen stiff. They know what we’ll find. Unrestricted breeding and demons. Every nightmare every kid ever had . . . but I
like
Moties. No. I like the Mediators. I’ve never known any of the others. And the Mediators don’t control the Mote civilization. Carefully he looked down at Sally. She was as unmoving as the Moties. Rod drew in a deep breath.

“Your Highness, I approve.”

Their quarters seemed small now, despite the high ceilings. Nothing had changed. There were all the delicacies the Empire could find to put in their kitchen. A single push on a button would summon a dozen, a hundred servants. The Marines in the corridor outside were polite and respectful.

And they were trapped. Somewhere at the edges of New Cal’s system, at a base called Dagda, the Empire’s warships were summoned; and when they had arrived...

“They will not kill them all,” Charlie gibbered.

“But they will.” Jock’s voice was a wail, quavering.

“The Warriors will fight. The
Navy
will lose ships. And
Kutuzov
will be in command. Will he risk his ships to spare any of us? Or will he reduce our planet to iridescent slag?”

“The asteroids as well?” Charlie whimpered. “Yes. There has never been a Cycle in which both were gone. Master, we must do something! We cannot allow this! If we had been truthful with them—”

“Their fleet would even now be on its way instead of merely ordered to assemble,” Jock said contemptuously. 
“It was so close! I had them!” Three fingers the size of knackwurst closed, empty. “They were ready to agree, and then—and then—” She whimpered on the edge of madness but recoiled from the brink. “There must be something we can do.”

“Tell them all,” Charlie said. “What harm can it do? Now they see us as evil. At least we can explain why we lied to them.”

“Think of what we can offer them,” Ivan ordered. 
“Consider their interests and think of ways to protect them without destroying the Race.”

“Help them?” Jock asked.

“Of course. Help them to be safe from us.”

“It is the Warriors they fear. Would the Masters agree to kill all the Warriors? We could then join the Empire.”

“Crazy Eddie!” Charlie screamed. “And how many Masters would keep Warrior breeding stock?”

“It has been attempted before,” Ivan said. “Think of something else.”

“Can we make them believe we cannot build the Fields?” Charlie asked.

“To what end? They will know soon enough. No. They will not enter our system again until their fleet is ready; and then they will take it all. A dozen battleships. If that fleet enters our system, the Warriors will fight and the Race will die. They must not send it. THEY MUST NOT.”

Jock used a half-forgotten tongue, not known to Masters. “He is nearly insane.”

“As are we.” Charlie wriggled in bitter, silent Motie laughter. “Pity the Master. His fears are our own, plus the fear that we will go mad. Without us he would be mute, watching the fleet assemble, unable to say a word in protest.”

“Think!” Ivan ordered. “They are sending
Kutuzov
. He destroyed a human planet—what mercy will he show to aliens? Think! Think or the Race is doomed!”

As Sally entered Rod’s office she heard him speaking into the phone. He hadn’t seen her. For a moment she hesitated, then stood motionless, listening.

“I agree, Lavrenti. The asteroid civilization must be covered in the first sweep. It may even be their prime naval base.”

“I do not like to divide fleet,” the heavily accented voice said from the phone. “You give me two missions, Lord Blaine. They are not compatible. To fall upon Moties and cripple them without warning—yes, that is possible. To invite their attack before we react—that will cost lives and ships we cannot spare.”

“You’ll plan it that way nonetheless.”

“Yes, my lord. My officers will bring you preliminary plans in the morning. They will also bring you loss estimates. What officer do you suggest I place in command of decoy vessel, my lord? Classmate of yours? Stranger? I await your suggestions.”

“Damn it!”

“Please excuse my impertinence, my lord. Your commands will be obeyed.”

The screen went dark. Rod sat staring at its blank face until Sally came in and sat across from him. The Warrior statuettes were vivid behind his eyes.

“You heard?”

“Some of it—is it really that bad?”

Rod shrugged. “Depends on what we’re up against. It’s one thing to go in shooting, blast our way in and saturate the planet and asteroids with hellburners. But to send the fleet in, give the Moties warning of what we’re up to, and wait for them to attack us? The first hostile move could be from the laser cannon that launched the probe!”

She looked at him miserably. “Why do we have to do it at all? Why can’t we just let them alone?”

“So that one of these days they can come out here and chop up our grandkids?”

“Why does it have to be us?”

“It was, though. Tell me, Sally, is there any doubt about it? About what the Moties really are?”

“They’re not monsters!”

“No. Just our enemies.”

She shook her head sadly. “So what will happen?”

“The fleet goes in. We demand they surrender to the Empire. Maybe they accept, maybe not. If they do, suicide crews go in to supervise the disarmament. If they fight, the fleet attacks.”

“Who— Who’s going to land on Mote Prime? Who’ll be in charge of the—
No!
Rod, I can’t let you
do
that!”