The Mote in God's Eye

“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!”