The Mote in God's Eye

“Blunt enough,” Fowler muttered. And intended to put us a bit ill at ease, wasn’t it, my friend? You’re smooth. “We need information first. About your history.”

“Ah.” Charlie hesitated only a second, but she saw the signals Jock gestured, and the Master’s finger movements. “You are concerned about our wars?”

“Damn right,” Senator Fowler agreed. “You hid damn near your whole history. Lied about what you did tell us.”

There were mutters of disapproval. Dr. Horvath shot Fowler a disgusted look. Didn’t the man know anything about negotiations? But of course he did, which made such rudeness even more puzzling…

Charlie gave a human shrug. “As you did with us, Senator. Our history: very well. Like you humans, we have had periods of warfare. Often over religions. Our last great wars were several of your centuries ago—since that time we have managed to control ourselves. But we have rebellions from time to time. Masters much like your outies, who place independence ahead of the good of the race. It is then necessary to fight them—”

“Why didn’t you just admit that in the first place?” Rod demanded.

The Motie shrugged again. “What did we know of you? Until you gave us the tri-v and let us see you as you are, what could we know? And we are as ashamed of our conflicts as many of you are of yours. You must understand, nearly all Mediators serve Masters who have no connection with war. We were instructed to assure you of our peaceful intentions toward your race. Our internal conflicts did not seem to be any of your business.”

“So you hid your weapons?” Rod asked.

Charlie looked to Jock. The other Mediator answered. “Those we have. We are inhabitants of a single star system, my lord. We have no racial enemies and few resources to devote to naval vessels—our military forces, such as they are, are more similar to your police than to your Navy and Marines.” The Motie’s gentle smile said nothing more, but somehow conveyed another thought: They would be fools to let the humans know how much or how little armament they had.

Sally smiled happily. “I told you, Uncle Ben—”

Senator Fowler nodded. “One other little point, Charlie. Just how often do your reproductive castes breed, anyway?”

It was Jock who answered. When Charlie hesitated, David Hardy watched with interest—was there communication by gesture? “When they are allowed to,” the alien said smoothly. “Don’t yours?”

“Eh?”

“You control your populations through economic incentives and forced emigration. Neither alternative is available to us, yet our reproductive drives are no less strong than yours. Our Masters breed when they can.”

“You mean you have legal mechanisms to restrict population?” Horvath asked.

“Essentially yes.”

“And why didn’t you say that before?” Senator Fowler demanded.

“You didn’t ask.”

Dr. Horvath was grinning now. So was Sally. Relief showed around the room. Except— “You deliberately misled Lady Sally,” Chaplain Hardy said carefully. “Please tell me why.”

“That Mediator served Jock’s Master,” Charlie answered. “She should speak to you of this. And please excuse us, I must tell the Ambassador what has been said.” Charlie twittered.

“Jock, you must take great care. We have won their sympathy. They want reasons to believe us. These humans have almost as much empathy as Mediators when they are in the proper mood, but they can change instantly.”

“I have listened,” Ivan said. “Do what you can to reassure these humans. If we are ever once away from their control we will be useful to all of them, and we will be an economic necessity to powerful groups of humans.”

“She felt the truth would upset you,” Jock answered. “I am not sure what was said. It was not discussed with me. We do not often discuss sex and reproduction within our family groups and almost never beyond them. The subject is— You do not have the emotion. It is similar to embarrassment but not identical. And you must realize how closely a Mediator will identify with her Fyunch(click). Lady Sally does not easily discuss sexual matters, nor does she enjoy doing so; her Mediator would feel the same emotions, and would know that the sterility of Mediators would upset Sally if she knew—as it did, when you learned of it. I say all this, but I do not know for certain: the matter was never thought important.”

“All that suspicion,” Sally said. “Just to spare me. I’m glad we cleared it up.”

The Motie shrugged. “Despite our abilities, some misunderstandings between alien species are inevitable. Remember the toilet doors?”