The Mote in God's Eye - Larry Niven [165]
“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 beginning to wonder if the Empire would be able to wipe you out.”
“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 Moties 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 Motie 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 Motie clucked in disapproval. Jonathon Whitbread looked at her irritably, then grinned. “Yes, sir. I agree with Gavin. What else can we do? We can’t fight a whole goddamn planet, and we’re not going to build secure communications out of anything we’ll find around here.”
Staley lowered his weapon. “Right. Lead on, then.” He looked at his small command. “We’re a damn sorry lot