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Officers and ratings stood as Rod came into the wardroom. Some of the civilians stood likewise; others pretended not to see the Captain; and a few looked at him, then looked away, exploiting their civilian status. As Rod took his place at the head of the table he muttered, "At ease," then sat carefully. Sally thought he looked even more worried than before.
"Kelley."
"Sir!"
"Is this room secure?"
"As near as we can make it, sir. Four files outside and I looked into the duct works."
"What is this?" Horvath demanded. "Just who do you think you are guarding against?"
"Everyone-and every thing-not here, Doctor." Rod looked at the Science Minister with eyes that showed both command and pleading. "I must tell you that everything discussed here will be classified Top Secret. Do each and all of you waive the reading of the Imperial Regulations on disclosure of classified information?"
There was muttered assent. The cheery mood of the group had suddenly vanished.
"Any dissents? Let the record show there were none. Dr. Horvath, I am given to understand that three hours ago you discovered that the miniatures are highly trained animals capable of technical work performed under command. Is that correct?"
"Yes. Certainly. It was quite a surprise, I can tell you! The implications are enormous-if we can learn to direct them, they would be fabulous additions to our capabilities."
Rod nodded absently. "Is there any chance that we could have known that earlier? Did anyone know it? Anyone at all?"
There was a confused ‘babble but no one answered. Rod said, carefully and clearly, "Let the record show there was no one."
"What is this record you keep speaking of?" Horvath demanded. "And why are you concerned about it?"
"Dr. Horvath, this conversation will be recorded and duly witnessed because it may be evidence in a court martial. Quite possibly mine. Is that clear enough?"
"What- Good heavens!" Sally gasped. "Court-martial? You? Why?"
"The charge would be high treason," Rod said. "I see most of my officers aren't surprised. My lady, gentlemen, we have strict orders from the Viceroy himself to do nothing to compromise any Imperial military technology, and in particular to protect the Langston Field and Alderson Drive from Motie inspection. In the past weeks animals capable of learning that technology and quite possibly of passing it on to other Moties have roamed my ship at will. Now do you understand?"
"I see." Horvath showed no signs of alarm, but his face grew thoughtful. "And you have secured this room- Do you really believe the miniatures can understand what we say?"
Rod shrugged. "I think it possible they can memorize conversations and repeat them. But are the miniatures still alive? Kelley?"
"Sir, there haven't been any signs of them for weeks. No raids on food stores. Ferrets haven't turned up a thing but a bloody lot of mice. I think the beasties are dead, Captain."
Blaine rubbed his nose, then quickly drew his hand away. "Gu
Kelley's face showed no surprise. In fact it showed nothing. "Brownies, Captain?"
"Rod, have you lost your mind?" Sally blurted. Everyone was looking at her, and some of them didn't seem friendly. Oh boy, she thought, I've stuck my foot in it. Some of them know what he's talking about. Oh boy.
"I said Brownies, Gu
"Well, not officially, Captain. I will say some of the spacers seem lately to believe in the Little People. Couldn't see any harm in it meself." But Kelley looked confused. He had heard of this and he hadn't reported it, and now the Captain, his Captain, might be in trouble over it.
"Anyone else?" Rod demanded.
"Uh-sir?"
Rod had to strain to see who was speaking. Midshipman Potter was near the far wall, almost hidden by two biologists. "Yes, Mr. Potter?"
"Some of the men in my watch section, Captain-they say that if ye leave some food-grain, cereals, mess leftovers, anything at all-in the corridors or under your bunk along with something that needs fixing, it gets fixed." Potter looked uncomfortable. It was obvious he thought he was reporting nonsense. "One of the men called them ‘Brownies.' I thought it a joke."
Once Potter had spoken there were a dozen others, even some of the scientists. Microscopes with smoother focusing operations than the best things ever made by Leica Optical. A handmade lamp in the biology section. Boots and shoes customized to individual feet. Rod looked up at that one.
"Kelley. How many of your troops have sidearms individualized like yours and Mr. Re
"Uh-I don't know, sir."
"I can see one from here. You, man, Polizawsky, how did you come by that weapon?"
The Marine stammered. He wasn't used to speaking to officers, certainly not the Captain, and most certainly not the Captain in an ugly mood. "Uh, well, sir, I leaves my weapon and a bag o' popcorn by my bunk and next morning it's done, sir. Like the others said, Captain."
"And you didn't think this unusual enough to report to Gu
"Uh-sir-uh, some of the others, we thought maybe, uh, well, the Surgeon's been talking about hallucinations in space, Captain, and we, uh-"
"Besides, if you reported it I might stop the whole thing," Rod finished for him. Oh, God damn it to hell! How was he going to explain all this? Busy, too busy arbitrating squabbles with the scientists- But the fact stood out. He'd neglected his naval duties, and with what outcome?
"Aren't you taking all this too seriously?" Horvath asked. "After all, Captain, the Viceroy's orders were given before we knew much about Moties. Now, surely, we can see they aren't dangerous, and they certainly aren't hostile."
"Are you suggesting, Doctor, that we put ourselves in the position of countermanding an Imperial Directive?"
Horvath looked amused. His grin spread slowly across his face. "Oh no," he said. "I don't even imply, it. I only suggest that if and when-when, really, it's inevitable- that policy is changed, all this will seem a trifle silly, Captain Blaine. Childish in fact."
"Be damned to you!" Sinclair exploded. "That's nae way to talk to the Captain, mon!"
"Gently, Sandy," First Lieutenant Cargill interjected. "Dr. Horvath, I take it you've never been involved in military intelligence? No, of course not. But you see, in intelligence work we have to go by capabilities, not by intentions. If a potential enemy can do something to you, you have to prepare for it, without regard to what you think he wants to do."
"Exactly," Rod said. He was glad of the interruptions. Sinclair was still fuming at his end of the table, and it wouldn't take much to make him explode again. "So first we have to find out what the potential of the miniatures is. From what rye seen of the air-lock construction, plus what we gather about the ‘Brownies,' that's quite high."
"But they're only animals," Sally insisted. She looked at the fuming Sinclair, the sardonically smiling Horvath and Rod's worried face. "You don't understand. This business with tools-well, yes, they're good with tools, but it's not intelligence. Their heads are too small. The more brain tissue they use for this instinct to make tools work; the more they have to give up. They've virtually no sense of smell or taste. They're very nearsighted. They've less sense of language than a chimpanzee. Their space perception is good, and they can be trained, but they don't make tools, they only fix or change things. Intelligence!" She exploded. "What intelligent being would have custom formed the grip on Mr. Battson's toothbrush?"
"As for spying on us, how could they? Nobody could have trained them for it. They were randomly selected the first place." She looked around at their faces, trying to judge if she was getting through.