The Mote in God's Eye - Larry Niven [195]
Blaine stroked the bridge of his nose. “Yes, sir. Taking them is the lesser risk—if Moties are a threat, we can’t prove it, and we may learn something from the ambassadors.”
“My lady?”
“I agree with Dr. Horvath—”
“Thank you.” Kutuzov seemed to be sucking lemons. His face puckered into near-agony. “Captain Mikhailov. You will make preparations for confinement of Moties. The fiction is risk of plague, but you will see that they cannot escape. Captain Blaine. You will inform Moties that we will take their ambassadors aboard, but it is possible they will not wish to come once they know conditions we must impose. No tools. No weapons. Baggage to be inspected and sealed, not available to them on voyage. No miniatures or other inferior castes, only ambassadors. Give them what reasons you like, but those conditions are not subject to change.” He stood abruptly.
“Admiral, what about the gift ship?” Horvath asked. “Can’t we take—” His voice trailed off, because there was no one to speak to. The Admiral had stalked out of the wardroom.
45 The Crazy Eddie Jump
Kutuzov called it the Alderson point. MacArthur’s refugees tended to call it the Crazy Eddie point, and some of Lenin’s crew were catching the habit. It was above the plane of the Mote system, and usually rather hard to find.
It would be no problem this time.
“Just project the path of the Motie ship until it intersects the direct line between the Mote and Murcheson’s Eye,” Renner told Captain Mikhailov. “You’ll be close enough, sir.”
“Motie astrogation is that efficient?” Mikhailov asked incredulously.
“Yah. It’s enough to drive you crazy, but they can do it. Assume constant acceleration.”
“There is another ship approaching that point from the Mote,” Kutuzov said. He reached past Captain Mikhailov to adjust the bridge screen controls, and vectors flashed in front of them. “It will not arrive until well after we have departed.”
“Fuel ship,” Renner said positively. “And I’ll bet anything you like that the ship carrying the ambassadors is light, transparent, and so obviously harmless that no one could suspect it of anything, sir.”
“Not even me, you mean,” Kutuzov said. Renner saw no smile to accompany the words. “Thank you, Mr. Renner. You will continue to assist Captain Mikhailov.”
They had left the Trojan asteroids behind. Every scientist aboard wanted Lenin’s telescopes to examine those asteroids and the Admiral had made no objections. It was not clear whether he feared a last-minute attack from the asteroids, or shared the civilians’ wish to know everything about Moties, but Buckman and the others had their chance.
Buckman soon lost interest. The asteroids were thoroughly civilized and their orbits had been shaped. They weren’t worth anything at all. The others didn’t share that view. They watched the light of Motie fusion drives, measured neutrino fluxes from power stations, saw flecks of light that showed a dark spectrum around the chlorophyll green band, and wondered. Huge plant farms were under domes there—it was the only possible conclusion. And on every rock large enough to see, there was the characteristic single crater proving conclusively that the asteroid had been moved.
Once Buckman regained his interest. He had been examining the asteroid orbits as a favor to Horvath; suddenly his eyes went blank. Then he feverishly punched codes into the computer and watched the results. “Incredible.”
“What’s incredible?” Horvath asked patiently.
“The Stone Beehive was dead cold.”
“Yes.” Horvath had experience drawing information out of Buckman.
“Assume the rest of the asteroids are. I believe it. Those orbits are perfect—project them back or forward as far as you like, they’ll never have collisions. Those things could have been up there a long time.”
Horvath went away talking to himself. Just how old was that asteroid civilization? Buckman thought in stellar lifetimes! No wonder the Stone Beehive had been cold: the Moties made no orbit corrections. They just put them where they wanted them— Well, he thought, time to get back to the gift ship.