The Mote in God's Eye - Larry Niven [82]
The miniature watched them slide through the door, one by one, and surround it. If it were waiting for an opening, it never saw one. When the door was shut and seven men and a woman ringed its refuge, it surrendered. Sally cradled it in her arms.
“Poor little thing,” she crooned. The Motie looked around, obviously frightened.
Whitbread examined what was left of the camera. It had shorted out, somehow. The short had maintained itself long enough for metal and plastic to fuse and drip, leaving a stench not yet removed by MacArthur’s air plant. The wire netting just behind the camera had melted too, leaving a large hole. Blaine came over to examine the wreckage.
“Sally,” Rod asked. “Could they have been intelligent enough to plan this?”
“No!” said Sally and Horvath, forcefully, in chorous. “The brain’s too small,” Dr. Horvath amplified.
“Ah,” Whitbread said to himself. But he did not forget that the camera had been inside the netting.
Two communications division artificers were summoned to patch the hole. They welded new netting over it, and Sally put the miniature back in its cage. The artificers brought in another video camera, which they mounted outside the netting. No one made any comment.
The search went on through the watch. No one found the female and the pup. They tried getting the big Motie to help, but she obviously didn’t understand or wasn’t interested. Finally, Blaine went back to his cabin to sleep for a couple of hours. When he woke the miniatures were still missing.
“We could set the ferrets after them,” Cargill suggested at breakfast in the wardroom. A leading torpedoman kept a pair of the cat-sized rodents and used them to keep the forecastle clear of mice and rats. The ferrets were extremely efficient at that.
“They’d kill the Moties,” Sally protested. “They aren’t dangerous. Certainly no more dangerous than rats. We can’t kill them!”
“If we don’t find them pretty soon, the Admiral’s going to kill me,” Rod growled, but he gave in. The search continued and Blaine went to the bridge.
“Get me the Admiral,” he told Staley.
“Aye aye, sir.” The midshipman spoke into the com circuit.
A few moments later Admiral Kutuzov’s craggy bearded features came onto the screen. The Admiral was on his bridge, drinking tea from a glass. Now that Rod thought of it, he had never spoken to Kutuzov when he wasn’t on the bridge. When did he sleep? Blaine reported the missing Moties.
“You still have no idea what these miniatures are, Captain?” Kutuzov demanded.
“No, sir. There are several theories. The most popular is that they’re related to the Moties the same way that monkeys are related to humanity.”
“That is interesting, Captain. And I suppose these theories explain why there are monkeys on asteroid mining ship? And why this miner brought two monkeys aboard your war vessel? I have not noticed that we carry monkeys, Captain Blaine.”
“No, sir.”
“The Motie probe arrives in three hours,” Kutuzov muttered. “And the miniatures escaped last night. This timing is interesting, Captain. I think those miniatures are spies.”
“Spies, sir?”
“Spies. You are told they are not intelligent. Perhaps true, but could they memorize? That does not seem to me impossible. You have told me of mechanical abilities of large alien. It ordered miniatures to return that Trader’s watch. Captain, under no circumstances may adult alien be allowed contact with miniatures which have escaped. Nor may any large alien do so. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You want reason?” the Admiral demanded. “If there is any chance at all that those beasts could learn secrets of Drive and Field, Captain...”
“Yes, sir. I’ll see to it.”
“See that you do, Captain.”
Blaine sat for a moment staring at the blank screen, then glanced across at Cargill. “Jack, you shipped with the Admiral once, didn’t you? What’s he really like under all that legendary image?”
Cargill took a seat near Blaine’s command chair. “I was only a middie when he was Captain, Skipper. Not too close a relationship. One thing, we all respected him. He’s