The Mote in God's Eye - Larry Niven [243]
“Ah,” said Jock, “a demon. I suppose they must have been dolls representing our species. Like the statuettes, to make it easier for the Mediator to talk about us.”
“All of those?” Rod’s voice was pure wonder. “A shipload of full-sized mockups?”
“We don’t know they were full-sized, do we?” asked Jock.
“Fine. Assume they were mockups,” Renner said. He went on relentlessly. “They were still models of living Motie classes. Except this one. Why would that one be in the group? Why bring a demon with the rest?”
There was no answer.
“Thank you, Kevin,” Rod said slowly. He didn’t dare look at Sally. “Jock, is this or is it not a Motie class?”
“There’s more, Captain,” Renner said. “Look real close at the Farmer. Now that we know what to look for.”
The image wasn’t very clear, little more than a fuzzy edged silhouette; but the bulge was unmistakable on the full profile view.
“She’s pregnant,” Sally exclaimed. “Why didn’t I think of that! A pregnant statuette? But— Jock, what does this mean?”
“Yeah,” Rod asked coldly.
But it was impossible to get Jock’s attention.
“Stop! Say no more!” Ivan commanded.
“What would I say?” Jock wailed. “The idiots took a Warrior! We are finished, finished, when moments ago we had the universe in our hand!” The Motie’s powerful left hand closed crushingly on air.
“Silence. Control yourself. Now. Charlie, tell me what you know of the probe. How was it built?”
Charlie gestured contempt interrupted by respect. “It should be obvious. The probe builders knew an alien species inhabited this star. They knew nothing more. Thus they must have assumed the species resembled ours, if not in appearance, then in the essentials.”
“Cycles. They must have assumed Cycles,” Ivan mused. “We had yet to know that all races are not condemned to the Cycles.”
“Precisely,” said Charlie. “The hypothetical species had survived. It was intelligent. They would have no more control of their breeding than we, since such control is not a survival characteristic. Thus the probe was launched in the belief that this star’s people would be in collapse when the probe arrived.”
“So.” Ivan thought for a moment. “The Crazy Eddies put pregnant females of every class aboard. Idiots!”
“Give them credit. They did their best,” said Charlie. “The probe must have been rigged to dump the passengers into the sun the instant it was hailed by a space-traveling civilization. If the hypothetical aliens were that advanced, they would find, not an attempt to take over their planet with the light sail as a weapon, but a Mediator sent on a peaceful errand.” Charlie paused for thought. “An accidentally dead Mediator. The probe would have been set to kill her, so the aliens would learn as little as possible. You are a Master: is this not what you would do?”
“Am I also Crazy Eddie, to launch the probe at all? The strategy did not work. Now we must tell these humans something.”
“I say tell them all,” Charlie said. “What else can we do? We are caught in our own lies.”
“Wait,” Ivan commanded. Only seconds had passed, but Jock was normal again. The humans were staring curiously. “We must say something momentous. Hardy knows we are excited. True?”
“Yes,” Charlie gestured.
“What discovery could so have excited us?”
“Trust me,” Jock said quickly. “We may yet be saved. Demon worshipers! We told you we have no racial enemies, and this is true; but there is a religious faction, secret, which makes gods of the time demons. They are vicious, and very dangerous. They must have seized the probe before it left the asteroid belt. Secretly, perhaps—”
“Then the passengers and crew were alive?” Rod asked.
Charlie shrugged. “I believe so. They must have committed suicide. Who knows why? Possibly they thought we had developed a faster-than-light drive and were waiting for them. What did you do when you approached them?”
“Sent messages in most human languages,” Rod answered. “You’re sure they were alive?”
“How would we know?” Jock asked. “Do not be concerned about them.” The voice was filled with