The Mote in God's Eye

“You will reflect on this. Remember that they fear us. Recall that they now know we have a prolific subspecies. Recall also that from study of the probe they placed this man in charge of the expedition to our system. Fear for your Masters and your sisters.” Ivan went to his chamber. After a long time the Mediators began to speak rapidly, but very softly.

52. Options

Heavy clouds raced across New Scotland skies. They parted to let New Cal’s bright rays slant warmingly into the paneled conference room. Bright objects flashed momentarily before the windows polarized. Outside there were deep shadows in the Palace grounds, but the sunlight was yet bright in the narrow streets where government offices emptied for the day. Kilted crowds jostled and milled as the sector bureaucracy hurried home to their families, a drink, and tri-v.

Rod Blaine stared moodily through the windows. Down below a pretty secretary hurried out of the Palace, so frantic to reach a people-mover that she nearly bowled over a senior clerk. An important date, Rod thought. And the clerk will have a family… all those people. My responsibility, and that may be just too damn bad for the Moties.

There was a bustle of activity behind him. “You got arrangements for feedin’ the Moties?” Kelley demanded.

“Yes sir,” a steward answered. “The chef would like to do something with that mush they eat, though—spices, something. He don’t feel right, just putting meat and grain in a pot and boilin’ it.”

“He can get artistic some other time. The Commissioners don’t want anything fancy tonight. Just be able to feed ‘em all if they want it.” Kelley glanced at the magic coffeepot to be sure it was full, then glared at an empty space next to it. “Where’s the goddamn chocolate?” he demanded.

“It’s comin’, Mr. Kelley,” the steward said defensively.

“Right. See that it’s here before the Moties come in. That’ll be an hour.” Kelley glanced at the wall clock. “OK. I guess we’re ready. But make sure of that chocolate.”

Since they’d discovered it aboard Lenin the Moties had become addicted to hot chocolate. It was one of the few human beverages they liked; but the way they liked it! Kelley shuddered. Butter he could understand. They put butter in chocolate aboard the Limey ships. But a drop of machine oil in every cup?

“Ready for us, Kelley?” Rod asked.

“Yes, my lord,” Kelley assured him. He took his place at the bar and pressed a button to signal that the conference could begin. Somethin’ botherin’ the boss, he decided. Not his girl, either. Glad I don’t have his problems.

A door opened and the Commission staff came in, followed by several of Horvath’s scientists. They took seats along one side of the inlaid table and laid their pocket computers in front of them. There were soft hums as they tested their linkup with the Palace computer system.

Horvath and Senator Fowler were still arguing as they entered. “Doctor, it takes time to process these things—”

“Why?” Horvath demanded. “I know you don’t have to check with Sparta.”

“All right. It takes me time to make up my mind, then,” Fowler said irritably. “Look: I’ll see what I can do for you next Birthday. You had a gong coming even before the Mote expedition. But, damn it, Doctor, I’m not sure you’re temperamentally suited for a seat on—” He broke off as heads turned toward them. “We’ll finish this later.”

“All right.” Horvath looked around the room and went to a seat directly across from Ben’s. There was a quick reshuffle as the Science Minister arranged his staff on his side of the table.

Others came in—Kevin Renner, Chaplain Hardy, both still in Navy uniform. A secretary. Stewards entered and there was more confusion as Kelley sent coffee around.

Rod frowned as he took his seat, then smiled as Sally entered hastily. “Sorry I’m late,” she panted. “There was—”

“We haven’t started yet,” Rod told her. He indicated a place next to his.

“What’s all this about?” she asked quietly. There was something in Rod’s manner that worried her, and she studied him carefully. “Why is Uncle Ben so interested in Motie history? Just what happened last night?”

“You’ll see. The Senator’s about to start.” And I hope it’ll be all right, sweetheart, but I doubt it. What happens to us after this? Rod turned grimly to the conference. I wonder what my Fyunch(click) is doing now? It’d be nice to send a representative to this and—