"You sound like the prosecutor in a murder trial," Renner said. "Good Lord, Senator, they've got a long history. Of course they've solved the population pressure problem."
"Fine. How?" Fowler snapped.
"I don't know. Ask 'em," said Renner.
"I intend to. But since we know they can and do lie to us— Now just why would that surprise a politician?" Ben wondered. "Anyway. Now that we know that, I want to have my ducks in a row before I go in there and confront the Moties."
"The opportunities for trade are fabulous," Jock announced. The arms indicated excitement. "These humans are indescribably inefficient in the use of their resources. They have no instinct for complex tools."
"None?" demanded Ivan.
"None that I have seen." Jock indicated the tri-v. "They must train their young in every trade. Many of the programs on this set are for that purpose."
"They have time to learn," Charlie reflected. "They live very long. Longer than any Master."
“Yes, but what a waste. They have no Browns, and no Watchmakers—"
Ivan interrupted. "You are certain they have no Watchmakers?"
"Yes. We saw no signs on the ships, nor have there been any on the tri-v, nor are there the expected products of Watchmakers. There are no individualized personal items—"
"I have seen such. The guards who attended us on Lenin carried such and many wore such footgear."
"Made by our own Watchmakers—"
"Precisely," said Ivan. "Now we know why they destroyed MacArthur. And why they fear us."
The Mediators jabbered excitedly until Ivan cut them off again. "You agree?" He asked in the tone commanding information to be confirmed.
"Yes!" they said in unison. Charlie spoke rapidly, drowning Jock out. "The Brown miner they took aboard would have carried a breeding pair of Watchmakers. The humans know nothing of Watchmakers and would have allowed them to escape. And given free run of the ship and much time to adapt to it—"
"Yet we were told they have Watchmakers," Ivan said.
Jock took a pose indicating memory recall. After a second she said, "No. Sally allowed us to assume that they have them. When her Fyunch(click) suggested that human Watchmakers were large, Sally agreed."
"And the midshipmen seemed startled when we spoke of them regarding construction of their lifeboats," Charlie said flatly. “Yes. You are certainly correct."
There was silence. Ivan thought. Then he said, "They know we have a prolific subspecies. You will reflect on this."
"They fear that we deliberately caused the destruction of MacArthur," Charlie said. "Curse! If only they had told us. We could have told them of the dangers, and the humans would have nothing to fear. Curse! Why did the universe arrange that the first Motie they met was a Brown?"
"They said MacArthur was infested with plague," Jock mused. "And so it was, although we did not believe them. A plague of Watchmakers. Yet. If they truly believe we deliberately destroyed their ship, or allowed it to be destroyed, why have they not said so? Why did they not ask?"
"They conceal their vulnerabilities," said Charlie. "And they never admit defeat. Even in their final minutes the midshipmen refused to surrender."
There was silence. Ivan spoke. "The humans did not wish us to know there were Watchmakers aboard until they had killed them. They were certain they could do that. Then, after, they did not wish us to know Watchmakers could destroy their ships."
"Fools!" Charlie shouted.”Watchmakers given time to adapt can destroy any ship. They contribute greatly to a collapse. If they were not so useful we would have them exterminated."
"That's been done," Jock said. She gestured dry humor. "With the usual result. Another Master kept hers—"
"Silence," Ivan demanded. "They fear us. Speak of that."
"Do you know of what the humans call 'fiction'?" Charlie asked. "Deliberately constructed legends. Both those who hear and those who tell them know they are false."
Ivan and Jock indicated they were familiar with the concept.
"There was a tri-v program last evening. It was fiction as are many of the broadcasts. This one was called 'Istvan Dies.' When it was completed the commentator spoke as if the major action of the story were true."
"I did not see," Jock said. "Viceroy Merrill wished me to meet some Traders before the reception for the Barons. Curse! These endless formalities consume our time and we learn nothing from them."
"I did not tell you of this program," Charlie said. "The principal actor portrayed a man obviously intended to be Admiral Kutuzov."
Jock signaled astonishment and lament for lost opportunities.
“You have a point?" Ivan demanded.
“Yes. The story was one of conflicting motives. The admiral in command did not wish to do what he did. There was war between humans: between the Empire and those outies they fear so greatly."
"Could we not come to terms with the outies?" Jock demanded.
"How?" Ivan said. "They control all access to us. If they suspect we would ever do so, they would do anything to prevent it. Do not even think of such things. Tell me of your program."
"In this war there was revolt of a planet. Other planets would soon revolt. What was a small war could become a very large war, with many planets involved. The admiral detected a way to prevent that, and decided it was his duty. With five ships like Lenin he killed all life on a planet inhabited by ten millions of humans"
There was long silence.
"They are able to do this?" Ivan demanded.
"I believe so," Charlie answered. "I am not a Brown to be certain, but—"
"You will reflect on this. Remember that they fear us. Recall that they now know we have a prolific subspecies. Recall also that from study of the probe they placed this man in charge of the expedition to our system. Fear for your Masters and your sisters." Ivan went to his chamber. After a long time the Mediators began to speak rapidly, but very softly.
Chapter Fifty-two
Options
Heavy clouds raced across New Scotland skies. They parted to let New Cal's bright rays slant warmingly into the paneled conference room. Bright objects flashed momentarily before the windows polarized. Outside there were deep shadows in the Palace grounds, but the sunlight was yet bright in the narrow streets where government offices emptied for the day. Kilted crowds jostled and milled as the sector bureaucracy hurried home to their families, a drink, and tri-v.
Rod Blaine stared moodily through the windows. Down below a pretty secretary hurried out of the Palace, so frantic to reach a people-mover that she nearly bowled over a senior clerk. An important date, Rod thought. And the clerk will have a family . . . all those people. My responsibility, and that may be just too damn bad for the Moties.
There was a bustle of activity behind him. "You got arrangements for feedin' the Moties?" Kelley demanded.
"Yes, sir," a steward answered. "The chef would like to do something with that mush they eat, though—spices, something. He don't feel right, just putting meat and grain in a pot and boilin' it."
"He can get artistic some other time. The Commissioners don't want anything fancy tonight. Just be able to feed 'em all if they want it." Kelley glanced at the magic coffeepot to be sure it was full, then glared at an empty space next to it. "Where's the goddamn chocolate?" he demanded.
"It's comin', Mr. Kelley," the steward said defensively.
"Right. See that it's here before the Moties come in. That'll be an hour." Kelley glanced at the wall clock. "OK. I guess we're ready. But make sure of that chocolate."
Since they'd discovered it aboard Lenin the Moties had become addicted to hot chocolate. It was one of the few human beverages they liked; but the way they liked it! Kelley shuddered. Butter he could understand. They put butter in chocolate aboard the Limey ships. But a drop of machine oil in every cup?
"Ready for us, Kelley?" Rod asked.
"Yes, my lord," Kelley assured him. He took his place at the bar and pressed a button to signal that the
conference could begin. Somethin' botherin' the boss, he decided. Not his girl, either. Glad I don't have his problems.
A door opened and the Commission staff came in, followed by several of Horvath's scientists. They took seats along one side of the inlaid table and laid their pocket computers in front of them. There were soft hums as they tested their linkup with the Palace computer system.
Horvath and Senator Fowler were still arguing as they entered. "Doctor, it takes time to process these things—"
“Why?" Horvath demanded. "I know you don't have to check with Sparta."
"All right. It takes me time to make up my mind, then," Fowler said irritably. "Look: I'll see what I can do for you next Birthday. You had a gong coming even before the Mote expedition. But, damn it, Doctor, I'm not sure you're temperamentally suited for a seat on—" He broke off as heads turned toward them. "We'll finish this later."
"All right." Horvath looked around the room and went to a seat directly across from Ben's. There was a quick reshuffle as the Science Minister arranged his staff on his side of the table.
Others came in—Kevin Renner, Chaplain Hardy, both still in Navy uniform. A secretary. Stewards entered and there was more confusion as Kelley sent coffee around.
Rod frowned as he took his seat, then smiled as Sally entered hastily. "Sorry I'm late," she panted. "There was—"
“We haven't started yet," Rod told her. He indicated a place next to his.
"What's all this about?" she asked quietly. There was something in Rod's manner that worried her, and she studied him carefully. "Why is Uncle Ben so interested in Motie history? Just what happened last night?"
"You'll see. The Senator's about to start." And I hope it'll be all right, sweetheart, but I doubt it. What happens to us after this? Rod turned grimly to the conference. I wonder what my Fyunch(click) is doing now? It'd be nice to send a representative to this and—
"Let's get moving," Senator Fowler said brusquely. "This meeting of the Lords Commissioners Extraordinary representing His Imperial Majesty to the inhabitants of the Mote System is convened. Please write your names and the organizations you represent." There was a second of silence broken by the soft hums of the computer links.
"We've got a lot to cover," the Senator continued. "Last night it became obvious that the Moties lie to us about certain critical matters—"
"No more than we've done to them," Dr. Horvath interrupted. Blast! I have to control myself better than that. The point must be made, but if the Senator gets really irritated—
"It's what they lie about that concerns us, Doctor," Fowler said smoothly. He paused a moment, and power seemed to gather around him. The dumpy old man in baggy clothing vanished. The Prime Minister spoke. "Look, all of you, I like things informal. If you've got something to say, spit it out. But let me finish my sentences first." There was a thin smile, wintry cold. "Anybody else you can interrupt, if you're big enough. Now, Dr. Horvath, just what are the Moties hiding from us?"
Anthony Horvath ran his slim fingers through thinning hair. "I need more time, Senator. Until this morning it hadn't occurred to me that the Moties were hiding anything." He glanced nervously at Chaplain Hardy, but the priest said nothing.
"It was a bit of a surprise to all of us," Fowler said. "But we've got evidence that Moties breed at a godawful rate. The question is, could we make them keep their numbers down if they don't want to? Rod, could the Moties have been hiding weapons from us?" '
Rod shrugged. "In a whole system? Ben, they could hide damn near anything they wanted to."
"But they were utterly unwarlike," Horvath protested. "Senator, I am as concerned for the safety of the Empire as anyone in this room. I take my duties as a Sector Minister quite seriously, I assure you."
You're not assurin' us, you're talkin' for the record, Kelley thought. Cap'n Blaine knows it, too. What's botherin' the boss? He looks like he does before an action.
"—no evidence of warlike activities among the Moties," Horvath finished.
"That turns out not to be the case," Renner put in. "Doc, I like Moties as well as you do, but something produced the Mediators."
"Oh, well, yes," Horvath said easily. "In their prehistory they must have fought like lions. The analogy is quite apt, by the way. The territorial instinct shows up still—in their architecture and in their social organization, for example. But the combats were a long time ago."
"Just how long?" Senator Fowler asked.
Horvath looked uncomfortable. "Possibly a million years."
There was silence. Sally shook her head sadly. Cooped up in one tiny system for a million years—a million civilized years! The patience they must have learned!
"No wars in all the time since?" Fowler asked. "Really?"
"Yes, damn it, they've had wars," Horvath answered. "At least two of the kind that Earth went through at the close of the CoDominium period. But that was a long time ago!" He had to raise his voice to carry across Sally's startled gasp. There were mutters around the table.
"One of those was enough to make Earth damn near uninhabitable," Ben Fowler said slowly. "How long ago are you talking about? Million years again?"
Horvath said, "Hundreds of thousands, at least."
"Thousands, probably," Chaplain Hardy said carefully. "Or less. Sally, have you revised your estimates of the age of that primitive civilization you dug up?"
Sally didn't answer either. There was an uncomfortable silence.
"For the record, Father Hardy," Senator Fowler asked, "are you here as Commission staff?"
"No, sir. Cardinal Randolph has asked me to represent the Church to the Commission."
"Thank you."
There was more silence.
"They had nowhere to go," Anthony Horvath said. He shrugged nervously. Someone giggled, then fell silent when Horvath continued. "It's obvious that their first wars were a very long time ago, in the million-year range. It shows in their development. Dr. Horowitz has examined the expedition biological findings and—well, you tell them, Sigmund."
Horowitz smiled in triumph. "When I first examined the probe pilot I thought it might be a mutation. I was right. They are mutations, only it all happened a long time ago. The original animal life on Mote Prime is bilaterally symmetric, as on Earth and nearly everywhere. The first asymmetric Motie must have been a drastic mutation. Couldn't have been as well developed as the present forms, either. Why didn't it die out? Because there were deliberate efforts to obtain the asymmetric form, I think. And because everything else was mutating also. The competition for survival was low."
"But that means they had civilization when the present forms developed," Sally said. "Is that possible?"
Horowitz smiled again.
"What about the Eye?" Sally asked. "It must have irradiated the Mote system when it went supergiant."
"Too long ago," Horvath said. "We checked. After all, we've got the equivalent of five hundred years' observation of the Eye in data from our explorer ships, and it checks with the information the Moties gave Midshipman Potter. The Eye's been a supergiant for six million years or more, and the Moties haven't had their present form anything like that long."
"Oh," said Sally. "But then what caused the—"
"Wars," Horowitz announced. "General increase in radiation levels, planet-wide. Coupled with deliberate genetic selection."
Sally nodded reluctantly. "All right—they had atomic wars. So did we. If the CoDominium hadn't developed the Alderson Drive we'd have exterminated ourselves on Earth." She didn't like the answer, though. It was hard to accept. "Couldn't there have been another dominant species that killed itself off, and the Moties developed later?"
"No," Horvath said carefully. "Your own work, Lady Sally: you've shown just how well adapted the Motie form is to using tools. The mutation must have been a tool user to begin with—or was controlled by tool users. Or both."
"That's one war," Senator Fowler said. "The one that created the Moties as we see 'em. You said two."
&n
bsp; Horvath nodded sadly. "Yes, sir. The presently evolved Moties must have fought with atomic weapons. Later there was another period of radiation that split the species into all those castes—both the civilized forms and the animals. Plus intermediates like Watchmakers." Horvath looked apologetically at Blaine, but there was no sign of emotion.
Sigmund Horowitz cleared his throat. He was clearly enjoying this. "I believe the Browns were the original form. When the Whites became dominant they bred the other subspecies to their own uses. Controlled evolution again, you see. But some forms evolved by themselves."
"Then the asymmetric animals are not ancestors to Moties?" Senator Fowler asked curiously.
"No." Horowitz rubbed his hands together and fingered his pocket computer in anticipation. "They are degenerate forms—I can show you the gene mechanisms."
"That won't be necessary," Senator Fowler said hastily. "So we have two wars. Presumably the Mediators could have been bred in the second one—"
"Better make it three wars," Renner put in. "Even if we assume they ran out of radioactives in the second one."
"Why?" Sally demanded.
"You saw the planet. Then there's the adaptation to space," Renner said. He looked expectantly at Horvath and Horowitz.
Horowitz' triumphant grin was even broader now. "Your work again, my lady. The Moties are so well adapted to space that you wondered if they'd evolved there. They did." The xenobiologist nodded emphatically. "But not until they'd had a long evolutionary period on the planet itself. Want me to review the evidence? Physiological mechanisms that adjust to low pressure and no gravity, intuitive astrogation—"
"I believe you," Sally said quietly.
"Mars!" Rod Blaine shouted. Everyone looked at him. "Mars. Is that what you're thinking, Kevin?"
Renner nodded. He seemed to be a man in conflict, his mind racing ahead and not liking what it found. "Sure," he said. "They fought at least one war with asteroids. Just look at the surface of Mote Prime, all torn by overlapping circular craters. It must have damn near wiped out the planet. It scared the survivors so much they moved all the asteroids out to where they couldn't be used that way again—"
The Mote In God's Eye Page 52
