The Mote in God's Eye - Larry Niven [101]
“Animals.” Oh my God. What would Kutuzov say?
“Sally, this is important. Can you come over tonight and brief me? You and anyone else who knows anything about this.”
“All right. Commander Sinclair is watching them now. Rod, it’s really fantastic how well the little beasts are trained. And they can get into places where you’d have to use jointed tools and spy eyes.”
“I can imagine. Sally, tell me the truth. Is there the slightest chance the miniatures are intelligent?”
“No. They’re just trained.”
“Just trained.” And if there were any alive aboard MacArthur they’d have explored the ship from stem to stern. “Sally, is there the slightest chance that any of the aliens can hear me now?”
“No. I’m using the earphone, and we haven’t allowed them to work on our equipment.”
“So far as you know. Now listen carefully, then. I want to talk privately to everyone else on that cutter, one at a time. Has anyone said anything—anything at all—about there being miniatures loose aboard MacArthur?”
“No-oo. You told us not to, remember? Rod, what’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? “For God’s sake, don’t say anything about the loose miniatures. I’ll tell the others as you put them on. And I want to see all of you, everyone except the cutter’s regular crew, tonight. It’s time we pooled our knowledge about Moties, because I’m going to have to report to the Admiral tomorrow morning.” He looked almost pale. “I guess I can wait that long.”
“Well, of course you can,” she said. She smiled enchantingly, but it didn’t come off very well. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Rod so concerned, and it upset her. “We’ll be over in an hour. Now here’s Mr. Whitbread, and please, Rod, stop worrying.”
24 Brownies
MacArthur’s wardroom was crowded. All the seats at the main table were taken by officers and scientists and there were others around the periphery. At one bulkhead the communications people had installed a large screen while the mess stewards got in the artificers’ way as they delivered coffee to the assembled company. Everyone chattered, carefree, except Sally. She remembered Rod Blaine’s worried face, and she couldn’t join in the happy reunion.
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.