The Mote In God's Eye

"Maybe they were, Piper," Blaine said. He moved to the air lock and oriented his suit toward Lenin. The communication laser winked on, and he hung in space, holding himself steady to keep the security circuit open.

"Your situation?" Kutuzov demanded. Reluctantly, knowing what it would mean, Rod told him.

"Recommended action?" the Admiral snapped.

"MacArthur may never sail again, sir. I think I'll have to abandon her and scuttle as soon as I've made a sweep to rescue any trapped crewmen."

"And where will you be?"

"Leading the rescue party, sir."

"No." The voice was calm. "I accept your recommendation, Captain, but you are hereby ordered to abandon your ship. Log that order, Commander Borman," he added to someone on his bridge. "You will issue the order to abandon and scuttle, turn over command to your First Lieutenant, and report aboard Lenin's number-two cutter. Immediately."

• "Sir, Sir, I request permission to remain with my ship until my crew, is safe."

"Denied, Captain," the merciless voice snapped. "I am quite aware that you have courage, Captain. Have you enough to live when you lose your command?"

"Sir-" Oh, God damn him to hell! Rod turned toward MacArthur, breaking the secure circuit. There was fighting at the air lock. Several miniatures had dissolved the bulkhead opposite the Marines' barricade, and the joeys were pouring fire into the gap. Blaine gritted his teeth and turned away from the battle. "Admiral, you ca

"I ca

"No, sir."

"You disobey direct order, Captain?"

"I can't accept that order, sir. She's still my ship."

There was a long pause. "Your devotion to Navy tradition is admirable, Captain, but stupid. It is possible that you are only officer in Empire who can devise defense against this menace. You know more about aliens than anyone else in fleet. That knowledge is worth more than your ship. It is worth more than every man aboard your ship, now that civilians are evacuated. I ca

"He'd never find me, Admiral. Excuse me, sir, I have work to do."

"Stop!" There was another pause. "Very well, Captain. I will make agreement with you. If you will stay in communication with me, I will allow you to remain aboard MacArthur until you have abandoned and scuttled. At instant that you are no longer in communication with me, that is moment at which you no longer command MacArthur. Need I send Commander Borman there?"

The trouble is, Rod thought, he's right. MacArthur's doomed. Cargill can get the crew out as well as I can. Maybe I do know something important. But suds my ship! "I'll accept your proposition, sir. I can direct operations better from here anyway. There's no communications left on the bridge."

"Very well. I have your word, then." The circuit went dead.

Rod turned back to the air lock. The Marines had won their skirmish, and Piper was waving to him. Rod went aboard. "Commander Cargill here," the intercom said. "Skipper?"

"Yeah, Jack?"

"We're fighting our way to port side, Skipper. Sinclair's got his people ready to leave. Says he can't hold the engine rooms without reinforcements. And a ru

"We've been ordered to abandon ship and scuttle, Number One."

"Yes, sir."

"We have to get those civilians out. Can you hold a route from bulkhead l60 forward? Maybe I can get some help in to let the scientists get that far."

"I think we can, sir. But, Captain, I can't get to the Field generator room! How do we scuttle?"

"I'll take care of that, too. Get moving, Number One."

"Aye aye, Skipper."

Scuttle. The word had an unreal sound. Rod breathed deeply. The suit air had a sharp metallic taste. Or perhaps it wasn't the air at all.

It was nearly an hour before one of Lenin's boats pulled alongside the cutter. They watched it approach in silence.

"Relay from MacArthur through Lenin, sir," the coxswain said. The screen lit.

The face on the screen wore Rod Blaine's features but it wasn't his face. Sally didn't recognize him. He looked older, and the eyes were-dead. He stared at them, and they stared back. Finally Sally said it. "Rod, what's happening?"

Blaine looked her in the eyes, then looked away. His expression hadn't changed. He reminded Sally of something pickled in a bottle at the Imperial Museum. "Mr. Re

"Now, just a minute," Horvath bellowed. "I-"

Rod cut him off. "Doctor, for reasons you will understand later, we are not going to explain a damned thing. Just do as you're told." He looked back to Sally. His eyes changed, just a little. Perhaps there was concern in them. Something, a tiny spark of life, came into them for a moment, anyway. She tried to smile, but failed. "Please,

"Sally," he said. "Do exactly as Lenin's pilot instructs you. All right. Out. Now."

They stood immobile. Sally took a deep breath and turned toward the air lock. "Let's go," she said. She tried again to smile, but it only made her look more nervous.

The starboard air lock had been reco

Sally pulled herself gently along the cable to Lenin's cutter, then cautiously moved through the hatch, She was halted when she entered the airlock. The mechanism cycled, and she felt pressure again.

Her suit was a woven fabric that fitted like an extra skin. A baggy protective garment covered that. The only space inside her suit that she didn't fill was the helmet that joined the skintight body stocking with a neck seal.

"It will be necessary to search you, my lady," a guttural-voiced officer said. She looked around: two armed

Marines stood in the air lock with her. Their weapons weren't aimed at her-not quite. But they stood alertly, and they were afraid.

"What is this?" she demanded.

"All in good time, my lady," the officer said. He assisted her in detaching the air-bottle backpack from her suit. It was thrust into a transparent plastic container. The officer looked into her helmet after he took that off, then put it in with the backpack and her coveralls. "Thank you," he muttered. "You will please now go aft. The others will join you there."

Re

"Damnedest strip-tease act I ever saw," Re

"Your captain will explain, sir," the coxswain said.

"More Brownies!" Re

"Is that it, Mr. Re