The Mote in God's Eye

“Motie astrogation is that efficient?” Mikhailov asked incredulously.

“Yah. It’s enough to drive you crazy, but they can do it. Assume constant acceleration.”

“There is another ship approaching that point from the Mote,” Kutuzov said. He reached past Captain Mikhailov to adjust the bridge screen controls, and vectors flashed in front of them. “It will not arrive until well after we have departed.”

“Fuel ship,” Renner said positively. “And I’ll bet anything you like that the ship carrying the ambassadors is light, transparent, and so obviously harmless that no one could suspect it of anything, sir.”

“Not even me, you mean,” Kutuzov said. Renner saw no smile to accompany the words. “Thank you, Mr. Renner. You will continue to assist Captain Mikhailov.”

They had left the Trojan asteroids behind. Every scientist aboard wanted Lenin’s telescopes to examine those asteroids and the Admiral had made no objections. It was not clear whether he feared a last-minute attack from the asteroids, or shared the civilians’ wish to know everything about Moties, but Buckman and the others had their chance.

Buckman soon lost interest. The asteroids were thoroughly civilized and their orbits had been shaped. They weren’t worth anything at all. The others didn’t share that view. They watched the light of Motie fusion drives, measured neutrino fluxes from power stations, saw flecks of light that showed a dark spectrum around the chlorophyll green band, and wondered. Huge plant farms were under domes there—it was the only possible conclusion. And on every rock large enough to see, there was the characteristic single crater proving conclusively that the asteroid had been moved.

Once Buckman regained his interest. He had been examining the asteroid orbits as a favor to Horvath; suddenly his eyes went blank. Then he feverishly punched codes into the computer and watched the results. “Incredible.”

“What’s incredible?” Horvath asked patiently.

“The Stone Beehive was dead cold.”

“Yes.” Horvath had experience drawing information out of Buckman.

“Assume the rest of the asteroids are. I believe it. Those orbits are perfect—project them back or forward as far as you like, they’ll never have collisions. Those things could have been up there a long time.”

Horvath went away talking to himself. Just how old was that asteroid civilization? Buckman thought in stellar lifetimes! No wonder the Stone Beehive had been cold: the Moties made no orbit corrections. They just put them where they wanted them— Well, he thought, time to get back to the gift ship. It won’t be long before we have to abandon it—wonder if Blaine’s making any progress?

Rod and Sally were at the moment in conference with the Admiral. They met on the bridge: to the best of Rod’s knowledge, no one but the Admiral and his steward had ever seen the inside of Kutuzov’s cabin. Possibly not even the Admiral, as he seemed always to be on the bridge, watching the screens like any scope dope, perpetually looking for Motie treachery.

“It is pity,” Kutuzov was saying. “That ship would be valuable. But we cannot risk it aboard. Mechanisms—who knows what they are for? And with Moties here to take advantage?” Kutuzov shuddered.

“Yes, sir,” Rod agreed affably. He doubted that the gift ship was any threat, but there were assemblies not even Sinclair could understand. “I was thinking of some of the other artifacts. Small parts. Those statuettes Chaplain Hardy is so fond of. We could seal everything in plastic, then weld it all inside grounded steel containers and strap the whole works on the hull inside the Field. If the Moties have anything that’ll hurt us after those precautions, maybe it’s better we don’t go home.”

“Um.” The Admiral fingered his beard. “You believe these artifacts valuable?”

“Yes, sir.” When Kutuzov said valuable, he meant something different from what Sally or Horvath implied. “The more we know about Motie technology, the better threat estimates Cargill and I can make, sir.”

“Da. Captain, I wish your honest opinion. What do you think of Moties?”

Sally controlled herself with an effort. She wondered what Rod would say. He was proving to be an absolute genius at maneuvering the Admiral.

Rod shrugged. “I can agree with both Dr. Horvath and yourself, sir.” When Kutuzov’s eyes widened, Rod hastened to add, “They could be the greatest potential danger we have ever faced, or the greatest potential opportunity we’ve ever found. Or both. Either way, the more we know about them, the better—provided we take precautions against the dangers.”

“Uh. Captain, I value your opinion. If I give permission, will you take personal responsibility for neutralization of any threat from Motie artifacts taken from that ship? I want more than obedience. I demand your cooperation, and your word that you will take no risks.”