The Mote In God's Eye

by Larry Niven, Jerry Pournelle

  "I see," said Charlie. "Dr. Hardy, if you will excuse us, we do not yet feel up to conversation. Perhaps in a few hours. And next time we will take your advice and be in our bunks, strapped down, and asleep, when you turn on your Crazy Eddie machine."

  "I'll leave you then," Hardy said. "Could we—is there anything you require? Is the Ambassador all right?"

  "He is well enough. Thank you for your concern."

  Hardy left, and the Moties went back to their bunks. They twittered and whistled.

  "And that," Rod said, "is that. I can think of a lot of more interesting things to do than watch Moties lie around chatting in a language I don't understand."

  And there's plenty of time to study the Moties, Sally thought. For a wonder, we don't either one of us have duties right now—and we do have privacy. "So can I," she said demurely.

  Despite the cubic kilometers of yellow-hot flame around her, Lenin was a happy ship. Kutuzov relaxed his vigil and let the crew resume normal watches for the first time since the destruction of MacArthur. Although the ship was deep within a sun, she had fuel, and her problems were in the Book. Navy routine would deal with them. Even the scientists forgot their disappointment at leaving the alien system with unanswered questions: they were going home.

  The only woman in ten parsecs would have been a subject for speculation under any circumstances. Fights might have started over either of two questions: What are my/your chances with her? and Is she being wasted? But Sally had clearly chosen her man. It made life easier for those who worry over such problems, and for those whose duty it is to stop fist fights.

  The first night after the Jump, Kutuzov held a dinner party. It was formal, and most of the guests did not enjoy themselves much; the Admiral's table talk was confined to professional matters. However, he left early, and a much wilder party developed.

  Rod and Sally stayed for three hours. Everyone wanted to talk about Moties, and Rod was surprised to find himself discussing them with only a hint of the dull pain that had formerly come over him when he thought of the aliens. Sally's enthusiasm was enough in itself—and besides, she seemed as worried about him as about the aliens. She had even spent hours remaking Mikhailov's extra dress uniform so that it almost fit.

  When they left the party, neither Moties nor the Mote were mentioned during the hours they were together before going to their separate cabins.

  The ship moved outward. Eventually the yellow beyond the Field turned to orange, then brick-red, and Lenin's probes reported her Field hotter than the photosphere around her. Scientists and crew alike eagerly watched the screen, and when stars appeared against a red-black background everyone had a drink in celebration. Even the Admiral joined them, his features a broad and heavy smile.

  Shortly afterward the communications officer established contact with a waiting tanker. There was also a small message sloop, fast, manned by young crewmen in perfect physical condition. Kutuzov dictated his report and sent it with two of his midshipmen, and the sloop accelerated at three gravities, racing for the Alderson point where it would Jump to the New Caledonia System and deliver the report of mankind's first contact with an alien civilization.

  The tanker carried mail and nearly a year's worth of news. There had been more revolts in the sector. A former colony had allied with an armed outie system and defied the Empire. New Chicago was occupied by the Army, and although the economy was working again much of the population was resentful of Imperial paternalism. The inflation of the crown was under control. Her Imperial Majesty had given birth to a boy, Alexander, and Crown Prince Lysander was no longer the only insurance of the present Imperial line. That news was worth another celebration on Lenin, and it got so big that Mikhailov had to borrow MacArthur crewmen to man his ship.

  The sloop returned with more messages masered even before the message ship could rendezvous. The Sector Capital was wild with enthusiasm, and the Viceroy was planning a gala reception for the Motie ambassadors. War Minister Armstrong sent a muted "well done" and a thousand questions.

  There was also a message for Rod Blaine. He learned of it when he was summoned to Kutuzov's cabin by the Admiral's Marine orderly.

  "This is probably it," Rod told Sally. "Put Blaine under arrest until he can be tried by court-martial."

  "Don't be silly." She smiled encouragement. "I'll wait for you here."

  "If they ever let me come back to my cabin." He turned to the Marine. "Lead on, Ivanov."

  When he was let into the Admiral's cabin it was a shock. Rod had expected a bare room, functional and cold; instead it was a bewildering variety of colors, oriental carpets, tapestries on the walls, the inevitable icon and portrait of the Emperor but much more. There were even

  leather-bound books in a shelf above Kutuzov's desk. The Admiral indicated a Spartan rose teak chair. “Will you have tea?" he asked.

  “Well—thank you, sir."

  "Two glasses tea, Keemun." The steward drew them from a silver thermos shaped like an ancient Russian samovar, and served the tea in crystal cups.

  "You may go. Captain Blaine, I have orders concerning you."

  "Yes, sir." Rod said. He might at least have waited until I'd enjoyed the tea.

  "You will be leaving this ship. As soon as the sloop makes rendezvous you are to go aboard for return to New Caledonia at maximum acceleration flight surgeon will approve."

  "Yes, sir—are they that eager to haul me in front of a court-martial?"

  Kutuzov looked puzzled. "Court-martial? I do not think so, Captain. There must be formal court of inquiry, certainly. That is in regulations. But I would be surprised if court of inquiry made charges against you."

  Kutuzov turned to his elaborately carved desk. There was a message tape on the polished wood surface. "This is for you. It is marked 'personal and urgent' and doubtless it will explain."

  Rod took the tape and examined it curiously.

  "It is in commanding-officer code, of course," the Admiral said. "My flag secretary will assist you if you like."

  "Thank you."

  The Admiral used the intercom to summon a lieutenant, who fed decoding tapes into the code machine. It clattered out a thin form.

  “Will that be all, Admiral?" the Lieutenant asked.

  "Yes. Captain, I leave you to read your message. Good morning." Admiral and lieutenant left the cabin as the code machine continued to chatter. The message flimsy wormed out of the machine's innards.

  Rod tore it off and read in growing wonder.

  He read it again on his way back to his cabin. Sally stood when he came in. "Rod, that's the strangest look I've ever seen!"

  "Got a letter," he said.

  "Oh—news from home?"

  "Sort of."

  She smiled, but her voice was puzzled. "How is everyone? Your father all right?" Rod seemed very nervous and excited, but he was too cheerful to have got bad news. So what was upsetting him? It was as if he had some task to carry out, something he wanted to do but was afraid of—

  "My family's fine. So is yours—you'll know about that soon enough. Senator Fowler is in New Scotland."

  She looked at him incredulously. "Uncle Ben is out here? But why?"

  "He says he got worried about you. Nobody to take care of you, so he had to—"

  She put her tongue out at him and grabbed for the message blank. Rod dodged nimbly despite the gravity-and-a-half acceleration.

  "All right," he told her. He laughed, but it was strained. "The Emperor sent him. As his personal representative, to chair an Imperial Commission to negotiate with the Moties." Rod paused. "We're both appointed to the Commission."

  She looked at him blankly. Slow comprehension invaded her eyes. This was professional recognition beyond anything she'd imagined.

  "Congratulations, Commissioner," Rod laughed. He caught her waist in both hands and held her at arm's length. "The Lord President of His Majesty's Commission Extraordinary also asks me when we're getting married. I think it's a pretty fair question."

&n
bsp; "But—I—Rod—we—" She caught her breath.

  "By God, I've got you at a loss for words. Just once you're not talking." He took advantage of the opportunity to kiss her. Then again. That lasted a long time.

  "I think I'd better read that letter," she said when they parted. "If you please."

  "You still haven't answered your uncle's question, and I won't let you read it until you do."

  "His question!" Her eyes flashed. "Rod Blaine, if I do marry anyone— if, mind you—he's going to ask me himself!"

  "All right, Lady Sandra Liddell Leonovna Bright Fowler, will you marry me?" The banter was gone from his voice, and although he tried to keep his grin he lost that too. He looked like a four-year-old about to sit on Father Christmas' lap for the first time. "When we get back to New Scotland—"

  "Yes, of course I'll marry you—New Scotland? Rod, your father will expect us to be married at Court. All our friends are on Sparta—"

  "I think maybe you'd better read that message, sweetheart. We may not get to Sparta for a while." He handed her the flimsy and perched on the arm of the chair she sank into. "It's this part." He pointed.

  FIRST REACTION HERE UNCERTAIN WHETHER TO MAKE YOU HERO OR VILLAIN STOP LOSS OF MACARTHUR NOT GREETED WITH JOY AT ADMIRALTY STOP CRANSTON EXPLODED STOP ARMSTRONG SAID QUOTE HOW IN HELL CAN ANYONE LOSE A BATTLE CRUISER CLOSE QUOTE STOP

  PARAGRAPH KUTUZOV REPORT IN YOUR FAVOR STOP KUTUZOV TAKES FULL RESPONSIBILITY FOR LOSS STOP KUTUZOV REPORTS POSSIBLE SUPERIOR CASTES MOTIES COULD HAVE CLEARED MACARTHUR OF VERMIN BUT HIS DECISION RISK OF COMPROMISE OF IMPERIAL TECHNOLOGICAL SECRETS TOO GREAT STOP KUTUZOV STILL UNDECIDED EXTENT OF MOTIE THREAT BUT SUGGESTS ADMIRALTY ASSEMBLE LARGE BATTLE FLEET STOP HORVATH REPORT STATES MOTIES FRIENDLY NO FLEET NEEDED AND MOTIES QUOTE GREATEST OPPORTUNITY IN HISTORY CLOSE QUOTE STOP PROBLEM IN MY LAP STOP

  "Ours too," Rod said. "Read on."

  PARAGRAPH BY ORDER OF SOVEREIGN I AM NOW LORD PRESIDENT OF IMPERIAL COMMISSION EXTRAORDINARY FOR NEGOTIATING WITH ALIENS STOP BY PERSONAL DIRECTION OF HIS MAJESTY RODERICK LORD BLAINE DASH THAT IS YOU BUT YOU ALMOST BLEW IT LOSING YOUR SHIP STOP DO NOT MAKE HABIT OF THAT DASH AND LADY SANDRA BRIGHT APPOINTED COMMISSIONERS STOP COMMISSION HAS FULL AUTHORITY TO ACT IN NAME OF SOVEREIGN STOP COMMISSIONERS WILL REMAIN IN NEW SCOTLAND UNLESS ADVISABLE CONVEY ALIEN REPRESENTATIVES TO SPARTA STOP

  PARAGRAPH IF COMMISSION CONCLUDES ALIENS POSE THREAT OR POTENTIAL THREAT TO EMPIRE COMMISSION WILL ACT IN CONCERT WITH VICEROY TRANSCOALSACK TO TAKE SUCH IMMEDIATE MEASURES AS SEEM ADVISABLE STOP ANY SUGGESTIONS INTERROGATIVE

  PARAGRAPH ROD UNLESS THOSE MOTIES ARE SIMPLE FARMERS AND THIS PROBE MAKES ME SURE THEY AINT YOU AND SALLY ARE GOING TO BE OUT HERE A LONG TIME STOP PRESUME YOU HAVE RETAINED SANITY SO ARE ENGAGED TO SALLY STOP WHEN IS WEDDING INTERROGATIVE YOUR FATHER SENDS BLESSINGS STOP SO DO I STOP MARQUIS EXPECTS YOU TWO WILL BE MARRIED BY NEXT TIME HE SEES YOU STOP IF YOU THINK MARQUIS AND I HAVE ARRANGED THIS YOU AINT SEEN NOTHING YET STOP HIS MAJESTY APPROVES IMMEDIATE WEDDING STOP YOUR MOTHER AND EMPRESS SEND BLESSINGS STOP

  "But what if I said no?" Sally demanded. "That's the most arrogant thing I've ever seen!"

  "But you didn't say no. You said yes." He leaned down to kiss her hard.

  She struggled away and he saw she was genuinely angry.

  "Damn it." Her voice was very low and clear. "Damn. 'His Majesty approves'—God's teeth! If I turned you down now it'd be high treason!"

  "I did ask first," he pointed out. "And you answered. First."

  "That was clever. Oh, stop looking like a little boy. Yes, I want to marry you. I don't much like being commanded, to do something I wanted to do anyway."

  He studied her. "You were out from under for a long time. I never was."

  "What?"

  "The obligations that go with the titles. First you were en route to study primitive cultures—your own free choice. I went to the Academy for my Wanderjahr. Then you were in the prison camp, but even in that hellhole you weren't under any authority you could respect." He was choosing his words with great care. Sally was red with anger.

  "Then MacArthur. As a guest. Under my authority then, remember? And you respected the fact to such an extent—"

  "All right, I stowed away when we captured the Crazy Eddie probe. You know why."

  "Too right. Then New Scotland, where you were practically the highest rank around. You enjoyed that, didn't you? The few people above you weren't interested in making you do anything. And on to Mote Prime, doing exactly what you wanted to do in life. You were out from under for a long time. Now you're back in the box."

  "That's what it feels like."

  Rod flicked the flimsy in her hand. "Arrogant as hell. Right. It jarred me, but not the way it got to you. I've been under orders for a long time. All my life."

  "It's the first time you've been ordered to marry anyone, I take it."

  "Yeah. But we've both been expecting something like that, haven't we? Politically, from an Empire standpoint, our marriage is just too good an alliance to pass up. We get the privileges, the property, the titles, and now the bill comes in. Blind luck we love each other, because we owe it to—"

  "To whom?" she demanded.

  Rod grinned helplessly. The idea was irresistibly funny. "To Kevin Renner. The Empire exists for the purpose of making it easier for Renner to play tourist. We owe this to Renner, and we're paid well for the privilege, and he's gonna collect."

  She was awed. "Does he really think that way? My God, he does! He ordered me to your cabin!"

  "What? He what?"

  She giggled. "Fantastic. We ought to ask him and see what he does. Let me finish reading this, Rod."

  PARAGRAPH I HAVE DISCRETION IN NAMING OTHER MEMBERS OF COMMISSION STOP WILL EXPECT YOUR HELP STOP EVERYBODY IN FIFTY PARSECS WANTS ON COMMISSION STOP GIVEN POWERS HIS MAJESTY DELEGATED TO US DONT BLAME THEM STOP YOUR FIRST TASK IS HELPING ME TO FILL OUT COMMISSION STOP SECOND WILL BE ARRANGING EVIDENCE AND WITNESS LIST STOP

  PARAGRAPH ADMIRAL KUTUZOV HAS ORDERS TO PUT YOU ABOARD MESSAGE SLOOP FOR RETURN BEST POSSIBLE SPEED TO NEW SCOTLAND STOP BRING SALLY IF YOU THINK BEST AND FLIGHT SURGEON APPROVES STOP ADMIRAL WILL ASSUME RESPONSIBILITY FOR HORACE BURY STOP GET MOVING STOP KISS SALLY FOR ME STOP BREAK BREAK REGARDS BENJAMIN BRIGHT FOWLER COMMA SENATOR OPEN PARENTHESES LORD PRESIDENT IMPERIAL COMMISSION EXTRAORDINARY ACTING FOR HIS MAJESTY LEONIDAS IX CLOSE PARENTHESES BREAK MESSAGE ENDSXX

  "Am I going in the message sloop?" she asked.

  "That's up to you. You're in condition. Want to?"

  "Yes—there are a lot of things to arrange before the Moties get there— My God, we've got to settle things about the Moties, and there's the wedding— Rod, do you realize how big a deal the marriage of Crucis Court and the Fowler heir will be in a provincial capital? I'll need three secretaries, Uncle Ben's not going to be any use, and we've got to arrange for a reception for the Moties and— Oh, all right. Where were we?"

  Chapter Forty-seven

  Homeward Bound

  Kutuzov and Mikhailov went all out in preparing for Rod and Sally's farewell dinner party. Lenin's cooks worked all day to turn out a traditional Ekaterina banquet: dozens of courses, soups, pastries, roasts, stuffed grape leaves from the hydroponics farm, shish kebab, an endless stream of food; and between courses there were thimble glasses of vodka. It was impossible to talk during the meal, for as soon as one course was finished MacArthur's stewards brought another; or, to give a respite for digestion, Lenin's Marines performed dances transported from the Russian steppes to St. Ekaterina's hills and preserved nine hundred years by fanatics like Kutuzov.

  Finally the bandsmen left and the stewards removed the dishes, leaving the guests with tea and more vodka. Lenin's junior midshipman toasted the Emperor, and Captain Mikhailov toasted the Tsarevitch Alexander, while the Admiral beamed.

  "He can put on quite a show when he's not scared silly," Renner whispered to Cargill. "Never thought I'd say that— Here it comes. The Tsar himself’'s going to give a toast. Who's left?" />
  The Admiral stood and lifted his glass. "I will reserve my toast for one moment," he said thickly. It was possible that the endless glasses of vodka had affected him, but no one could be certain. "Captain Blaine, when next we meet roles will be reversed. Then you must tell me how to deal with Moties. I do not envy you that task."

  "What's Horvath scowling about?" Cargill whispered. "He looks like somebody put a frog in his bunk."

  "Aye. Is it nae possible he wants a place on yon Commission?" Sinclair asked.

  "Bet that's it," Renner put in. "I wouldn't mind being on it myself—"

  "You and everybody else," Cargill said. "Now shut up and listen."

  "There is more we must congratulate Lord Blaine about," Kutuzov was saying, "and that is why I reserve toast. Chaplain Hardy has announcement."

  David Hardy stood. His smile was broad and merry. "Lady Sandra has given me the honor of formally announcing her engagement to Lord Commissioner Blaine," Hardy said. "I've already extended my private congratulations—let me be the first to give them publicly."

  Everyone spoke at once, but the Admiral cut them off. "And now my toast," Kutuzov said. "To the future Marquise of Crucis."

  Sally blushed as she sat while the others stood and lifted their glasses. Well, it's official now, she thought. No way to get out of it if I wanted to—not that I do, but it's so inevitable now. . .

  "Also to Lady Commissioner," Kutuzov added. Everyone drank again. "And to Lord Commissioner. Long life and many children. May you protect our Empire when you negotiate with Moties."

  "Our thanks," Rod said. "We'll do our best, and of course I'm the luckiest man alive."

  "Perhaps her ladyship will speak," Kutuzov prompted.

  She stood, but she could think of nothing to say. "Thank you all," she blurted and sat.

  "Out of words again?" Rod asked wickedly. "And with all these people around—I've lost a rare opportunity!"

  After that the formality vanished. Everyone pressed around them.

  "All the happiness in the world," Cargill said. He pumped Rod's hand vigorously. "I really mean that, sir. And the Empire couldn't have made a better choice for the Commission."