The Mote in God's Eye - Larry Niven [168]
“And after that, ‘tis as God wills,” Potter added.
They listened to the humming of the traffic. “You won’t have the chance, Horst,” Whitbread’s voice said. “There’s no threat you can make that would get Charlie or me to have a Brown build you the equipment you’d need. You can’t use our transmitters if you could find one—even I couldn’t use strange gear without a Brown to help. There might not even be the proper communications devices on this planet, for that matter.”
“Come off it,” Staley said. “You’ve got to have space communications, and there are only so many bands in the electromagnetic spectrum.”
“Sure. But nothing stays idle here. If we need something, the Browns put it together. When it’s not needed any more, they build something else out of the parts. And you want something that’ll reach Lenin without letting anyone know you’ve done that.”
“I’ll take the chance. If we can broadcast a warning to the Admiral, he’ll get the ship home.” Horst was positive. Lenin might be only one ship, but President Class battlewagons had defeated whole fleets before. Against Moties without the Field she’d be invincible. He wondered why he’d ever believed anything else. Back at the museum there’d been electronics parts, and they could have put together a transmitter of some kind. Now it was too late; why had he listened to the Motie?
They drove on for nearly an hour. The midshipmen were cramped, jammed between hard boxes, in the dark. Staley felt his throat tighten and was afraid to talk any more. There might be a catch in his voice, something to communicate his fears to the others, and he couldn’t let them know he was as afraid as they were. He wished for something to happen, a fight, anything— There were starts and stops. The truck jerked and turned, then came to a halt. They waited. The sliding door opened and Charlie stood framed in light.
“Don’t move,” she said. There were Warriors behind her, weapons ready. At least four.
Horst Staley growled in hatred. Betrayed! He reached for his pistol, but the cramped position prevented him from drawing it.
“No, Horst!” Whitbread’s Motie shouted. She twittered. Charlie hummed and clacked in reply. “Don’t do anything,” Whitbread’s Motie said. “Charlie has commandeered an aircraft. The Warriors belong to its owner. They won’t interfere as long as we go straight from here to the plane.”
“But who are they?” Staley demanded. He kept his grip on the pistol. The odds looked impossible—the Warriors were poised and ready, and they looked deadly and efficient.
“I told you,” Whitbread’s Motie said. “They’re a bodyguard. All Masters have them. Nearly all, anyway. Now get out, slowly, and keep your hands off your weapons. Don’t make them think you might try to attack their Master. If they get that idea, we’re all dead.”
Staley estimated his chances. Not good. If he had Kelley and another Marine instead of Whitbread and Potter— “OK,” he said. “Do as she says.” He climbed slowly out of the van.
They were in a luggage-handling area. The Warriors stood in easy postures, leaning slightly forward on the balls of their wide, horned feet. It looked, Staley thought, like a karate stance. He caught a glimpse of motion near the wall. There were at least two more Warriors over there, under cover. Good thing he hadn’t tried to fight.
The Warriors watched them carefully, falling in behind the strange procession of a Mediator, three humans, another Mediator, and a Brown. Their weapons were held at the ready, not quite pointing at anyone, and they fanned out, never bunching up.
“Will nae yon decision maker call your Master when we are gone?” Potter asked.
The Moties twittered together. The Warriors seemed to pay no attention at all. “Charlie says yes. She’ll notify both my Master and King Peter. But it gets us an airplane, doesn’t it?”
The decision maker’s personal aircraft was a streamlined wedge attended by several Browns. Charlie twittered at them and they began removing seats, bending metal, working at almost blinding speed. Several miniatures darted through the plane. Staley saw them