The Mote in God's Eye - Larry Niven [177]
“What of your midshipmen?”
Rod swallowed hard. “I don’t know, sir. Possibly Potter or Whitbread weren’t able to control their lifeboats and Staley tried a rescue. It would be like him—”
Kutuzov scowled. “Three lifeboats, Captain. All three reenter, and all three burn.” He examined the displays around him. A boat was being winched into Lenin’s hangar deck, where Marines would flood it with poison gas. No aliens would get loose in his flagship! “What would you like to say to Moties, Doctor?”
“I won’t tell them what I’d like to say, Admiral,” Horvath said pointedly. “I will stay with your story of plague. It’s almost true, isn’t it? A plague of miniatures. But, Admiral, we must leave open the possibility of a returning expedition.”
“They will know you lie to them,” Kutuzov said flatly. “Blaine, what of that? Is better Moties hear explanations they do not believe?”
Damn it, doesn’t he know I don’t want to think about Moties? Or anything else? What good is my advice? Advice from a man who lost his ship— “Admiral, I don’t see what harm it would do to let Minister Horvath speak to the Moties.” Rod emphasized “Minister”; not only was Horvath a ranking Council Minister, but he had powerful connections with the Humanity League, and influence in the Imperial Traders’ Association as well. That combination had nearly as much clout as the Navy. “Somebody ought to talk to them, it doesn’t matter much who. There’s not a man aboard who can lie to his Fyunch(click).”
“Very well. Da. Captain Mikhailov, please have communications call Mote embassy ship. Dr. Horvath will speak to them.”
The screens lit to show a brown-and-white half-smiling face. Rod grimaced, then glanced up quickly to confirm that his own image pickup wasn’t on.
The Motie looked at Horvath. “Fyunch(click).”
“Ah. I was hoping to speak to you. We are leaving now. We must.”
The Motie’s expression didn’t change. “That seemed obvious, but we are very distressed, Anthony. We have much more to discuss, trade agreements, rental of bases in your Empire—”
“Yes, yes, but we haven’t the authority to sign treaties or trade agreements,” Horvath protested. “Really, we did accomplish a lot, and now we have to go. There was plague on MacArthur, something new to our doctors, and we don’t know the focal infection center or the vector. And since this ship is our only way home, the Ad—our decision makers think it best we leave while there is a full astrogation crew. We’ll be back!”
“Will you come yourself?” the Motie asked.
“If at all possible. I’d love to.” He had no trouble sounding sincere about that.
“You will be welcome. All humans will be welcome. We have great hopes for trade between our races, Anthony. There is much we can learn from each other. We have gifts as well—can you not take them on your ship?”
“Why, thank you—I—” Horvath looked at Kutuzov. The Admiral was about to explode. He shook his head violently.
“It would not be wise,” Horvath said sadly. “Until we know what caused the plague, it is best we add nothing we have not already been exposed to. I’m very sorry.”
“So am I, Anthony. We have noted that your engineers are—how can I put this delicately? Are not so advanced as ours in many ways. Underspecialized, perhaps. We have thought partially to remedy this with our gifts.”
“I—excuse me a moment,” Horvath said. He turned to Kutuzov after switching off the sound pickup. “Admiral, you cannot refuse such an opportunity! This may be the most significant event in the history of the Empire!”
The Admiral nodded slowly. His dark eyes narrowed. “It is also true that Moties in possession of Langston Field and Alderson Drive may be most significant threat in history of human race, Minister Horvath.”
“I’m aware of it,” Horvath snapped. He turned the sound pickup on. “I am afraid that—”
The Motie interrupted. “Anthony, can you not inspect our gifts? You may take pictures of them, learn them well enough to duplicate them later. Surely that would be no danger to persons who have been on the Mote planet itself?”
Horvath thought furiously.