The Mote in God's Eye

“We’ll get you away from the goddamn press corps,” Fowler muttered. “Can’t do anything in a goldfish bowl.” He turned to smile for the cameras. So did the others, and they were still smiling as the elevator door closed in the faces of the reporters who had rushed forward when they saw that the Moties were leaving.

There were no obvious spy eyes in the rooms, and the doors had inside locks. There were many rooms, all with very high ceilings. There were three rooms with what the humans thought were beds for Moties, and each of those rooms was adjoined by a room with waste disposal and washing facilities. In another room were a refrigerator, flame and microwave stoves, large stocks of food including the stores brought by the Moties, implements for eating, and equipment they did not recognize. Still another room, the largest of all, held a big polished wood table and both Motie and human chairs.

They wandered through the vast spaces.

“A tri-v screen,” Jock exclaimed. He turned the controls, and a picture appeared. It was a tape of themselves listening to the message from the Emperor. Other channels showed the same things, or men talking about the Motie arrival or—

A big man in loose clothing was shouting. His tones and gestures indicated rage. “Devils! They must be destroyed! The Legions of Him will go forth against the Legions of Hell!”

The shouting man was cut off and replaced by another man, also in loose clothing, but this one did not shout. He spoke calmly. “You have heard the man who calls himself the Voice of Him. It is of course not necessary for me to say it, but speaking for the Church I can assure you that the Moties are neither angels nor devils; merely intelligent beings much like us. If they are a threat to humanity it is not a spiritual one, and His Majesty’s servants will certainly be more than adequate to deal with them.”

“Cardinal Randolph, has the Church determined the, ah, status of Moties? That is, their place in the theology of—”

“Of course not. But I can say they are hardly supernatural beings.” Cardinal Randolph laughed and so did the commentator. There was no sign of the man who had been screaming in rage.

“Come,” the Master said. “You will have time for this later.” They went into the large room and sat at the table. Charlie brought grain from their food supply.

“You have smelled the air,” Jock said. “No industrial development. The planet must be nearly empty! Room for a billion Masters and all their dependents.”

“Too much of this sunlight would make us blind. The gravity would shorten our lives.” Charlie inhaled deeply. “But there is room and food and metal. The gravity be cursed with the sunlight. We’ll take it.”

“I must have missed hearing the offer.” Jock gestured amusement. “I do not believe the three of us will take it by force.”