The Mote In God's Eye

"But," said Potter, "ye've reached your dispassionate judgment by adopting our viewpoint-or rather, Whitbread's. You act so much like Jonathon the rest of us have to keep counting your arms. What will happen when you give up the human viewpoint? Might not your judgment- Ugh!"

The alien's left arm closed on the front of Potter's uniform, painfully tight, and drew him down until his nose was an inch from the Motie's sketched-in face. She said, "Never say that. Never think that. The survival of our civilization, any civilization, depends entirely on the justice of my class. We understand all viewpoints, and judge between them, If other Mediators come to a different conclusion from mine, that is their affair, It may be that their facts are incomplete, or their aims different. I judge on the evidence."

She released him, Potter stumbled backward. With the fingers of a right hand the Motie picked Staley's gunpoint out of her ear.

"That wasna' necessary," said Potter.

"It got your attention, didn't it? Come on, we're wasting time."

"Just a minute." Staley spoke quietly, but they all heard him easily in the night silence. "We're going to find this King Peter, who may or may not let us report to Lenin. That's not good enough. We've got to tell the Captain what we know."

"And how will you do that?" Whitbread's Motie asked. "I tell you, we won't help you, and you can't do it without us. I hope you don't have something stupid in mind, like threatening us with death? If that scared me, do you think I'd be here?"

"But-"

"Horst, get it through that military mind of yours that the only thing keeping Lenin alive is that my Master and King Peter agree on letting it live! My Master wants Lenin to go back with Dr Horvath and Mr. Bury aboard. If we've analyzed you right, they'll be very persuasive. They'll argue for free trade and peaceful relationships with us-"

"Aye," Potter said thoughtfully. "And wi'out our message, there'll be nae opposition ... why does this King Peter no call Lenin himself?"

Charlie and Whitbread's Motie twittered. Charlie answered. "He is not sure that the Empire will not come in strength to destroy the Mote worlds once you know the truth. And until he is sure.. ."

"How in God's name can he be sure of anything like that from talking to us?" Staley demanded. "I'm not sure myself. If His Majesty asked me, right now, I don't know what I'd advise-for God's sake, we're only three midshipmen from one battle cruiser. We can't speak for the Empire."

"Could we do it?" Whitbread asked. "I'm begi

"Jesus, Whitbread," Staley protested.

"I mean it. By the time Lenin gets back and reports to Sparta, they'll have the Field. Won't you?"

Both Modes shrugged. The gestures were exactly alike-and exactly like Whitbread's shrug. "The Engineers will work on it now that they know it exists," Whitbread's Mode said. "Even without it, we've got some experience in space wars. Now come on. God's teeth, you don't know how close to war we are right now! If my Master thinks you've told all this to Lenin she'll order an attack on the ship. If King Peter isn't convinced there's a way to make you leave us alone, he might order it."

"And if we do no hurry, the Admiral will already hae taken Lenin back to New Caledonia," Potter added. "Mr. Staley, we hae nae choices at all. We find Charlie's Master before the other Masters find us. ‘Tis as simple as that."

"Jonathon?" Staley asked.

"You want advice? Sir?" Whitbread's Mode clucked in disapproval. Jonathon Whitbread looked at her irritably, then gri

Staley lowered his weapon. "Right. Lead on, then." He looked at his small command. "We're a damn sorry lot to be the ambassadors of the human race."

They struck out across the darkened fields toward the brightly lit city beyond.

37 History Lesson

There was a three-meter-high wall around (Bird Whistle) city. It might have been stone, or a hard plastic; the structure was difficult to see in the red-black light of Murcheson's Eye. Beyond it they could see great oblong buildings. Yellow windows loomed over their heads.

"The gates will be guarded," Whitbread's Mode said. "I'm sure," Staley muttered. "Does the Keeper live here too?"

"Yes. At the subway terminal. Keepers aren't allowed farm lands of their own. The temptation to exploit that kind of sell-sufficiency might be too much even for a sterile male."

"But how do you get to be a Keeper?" Whitbread asked. "You're always talking about competition among Masters, but how do they compete?"

"God's eyes, Whitbread!" Staley exploded. "Look, what do we do about that wall?"

"We'll have to go through it," Whitbread's Motie said. She twittered to Charlie for a moment. "There are alarms and there'll be Warriors on guard."

"Can we go over it?"

"You'd pass through an x-ray laser, Horst."

"God's teeth. What are they so afraid of?"

"Food riots."

"So we go through it. Any one place better than another?"

The Moties shrugged with Whitbread's gestures. "Maybe half a kilometer farther. There's a fast road there."

They walked along the wall, "Well, how do they compete?" Whitbread insisted. "We've got nothing better to talk about."

Staley muttered something, but stayed close to listen.

"How do you compete?" Whitbread's Mode asked. "Efficiency. We have commerce, you know. Mr. Bury might be surprised at just how shrewd some of our Traders are. Partly, Masters buy responsibilities-that is, they show they can handle the job. They get other powerful givers of orders to support them. Mediators negotiate it. Contracts-promises of services to be delivered, that kind of thing-are drawn up and published. And some givers of orders work for others, you know. Never directly. But they'll have a job they take care of, and they'll consult a more powerful Master about policy. A Master gains prestige and authority when other givers of orders start asking her for advice. And of course her daughters help."

"It sounds complex," Potter said. "I think o' nae time or place similar in human history."

"It is complex," said Whitbread's Mode. "How could it be anything else? How can a decision maker be anything but independent? That's what drove Captain Blaine's Fyunch(dick) insane, you know. Here was your Captain, Absolute Master on that ship-except that when whoever it-was on Lenin croaked frog, Captain Blaine hopped around the bridge."

"Do you really talk about the Captain that way?" Staley asked Whitbread.

"I refuse to answer on the grounds that it might tend to get me dumped into the mass converter," Whitbread said. "Besides, we're coming to a bend in the wail.

"About here, Mr. Staley," Whitbread's Mode said. "There's a road on the other side."

"Stand, back." Horst raised the rocket launcher and fired. At the second explosion light showed through the wail. More lights rippled along its top. Some shone out into the fields, showing crops growing to the edge of the wail. "OK, get through fast," Staley ordered.

They went through the gap and onto a highway. Cars and larger vehicles whizzed past, missing them by centimeters as they cowered against the wall. The three Moties walked boldly into the road.

Whitbread shouted and tried to grab his Fyunch(click). She shook him off impatiently and strolled across the street. Cars missed her narrowly, cu

On the other side the Brown-and-whites waved theft left arms in an unmistakable sign: Come on!

Light poured through the gap in the wail. Something was out there in the fields where they'd been. Staley waved the others into the street and fired back through the gap. The rocket exploded a hundred meters away, and the light went out.