“OK,” Senator Fowler said. “Tell me what you think happened this afternoon”
“I’ll show it to you.” Rod manipulated his pocket computer and the wall screen came on. The picture was not good; it had been recorded by a small camera built into a decoration on Rod’s tunic, and the viewpoint was limited. The sound was excellent, though.
Fowler watched in silence. “Let’s see that again,” he said. Rod obligingly ran the conference once more. While Fowler and Renner watched he went to the bar, decided against another Scotch, and poured himself coffee.
“Now just why do you think this was so all-fired important?” Fowler demanded.
Kevin Renner shrugged. “It’s the first proof we have that they lie to us. What else haven’t they told us?”
“Hell, they haven’t told us much of anything;” Fowler said. “And was that a lie?”
“Yeah,” Rod said quietly. “By implication, anyway. It wasn’t misunderstanding. I’ve checked on that. We’ve got too many records of conversations where the Moties implied something false, realized they’d done it from watching our reactions, and corrected themselves. No. That Motie deliberately encouraged Sally to believe something that isn’t true.”
“But what the hell does it do for us to know Mediators don’t have kids?” Fowler demanded.
“It tells us two Browns and a White had four children,” Renner said slowly. “On a small ship. In space. Under dangerous conditions. Not to mention crowded.”
“Yeah.” Ben Fowler stood and removed his dress tunic. The shirt underneath was old, very soft, and carefully patched in three places. “Rod, just what do Moties think of their kids?” Fowler asked. “Maybe they think they’re nothing much until they can talk. Expendable.”
“Wrong,” said Renner.
“The tactful way,” Rod said quietly, “the polite way to disagree with the Senator would be to say, ‘That turns out not to be the case.’ ”
Renner’s face lit up. “Hey. I like that. Anyway, the Senator’s wrong. The Moties think everything of their children. The only religion they ever told me about teaches that their souls divide to enter their children. They practically worship the little darlings.”
“Uh.” Fowler held out his glass for a refill. He scowled impatiently. “Could it be they like ‘em so much they have kids whenever they get the chance?”
“Possible,” Rod said. “And from that the threat is obvious. But—”
“But exactly,” Fowler said. “Then that planet’s got to be crowded. Which it was. Which means the Moties have got population pressure problems like we’ve never had…”
“Presumably they can control them,” Rod said carefully. “Because if they can’t— They’ve been cooped up in that system a long time.”
“With what results?” Fowler demanded. “What do we know of Motie history?”
“Not a lot,” Renner said. “They’ve been civilized a long time. Really long. They were moving asteroids in bunches at least ten thousand years ago. I’m almost afraid to think how much history they’ve had.” Kevin wriggled in the chair to get the full effects of the massage. “So they’ve had plenty of time to solve their population problems. Just from the time they launched that Crazy Eddie probe to now they could have filled up the planet. They didn’t, so they can control population…”
“But they don’t want to,” Ben announced. “And what does that mean? If they get out here into the Empire, how long before they outnumber us?” Senator Fowler toyed thoughtfully with a worn spot on his shirt. “Maybe that’s what they’re trying to hide. High birth rate and a lack of desire to do anything about it.” He stood in sudden decision, no longer pensive. “Rod, get your people looking into this. I want everything we’ve got about Motie history.”
“Yes, sir,” Rod said unhappily. And what is this going to do to Sally when we get it? Because—
“You sound like the prosecutor in a murder trial,” Renner said. “Good Lord, Senator, they’ve got a long history. Of course they’ve solved the population pressure problem.”
“Fine. How?” Fowler snapped.
“I don’t know. Ask ‘em,” said Renner.
“I intend to. But since we know they can and do lie to us— Now just why would that surprise a politician?” Ben wondered. “Anyway. Now that we know that, I want to have my ducks in a row before I go in there and confront the Moties.”
“The opportunities for trade are fabulous,” Jock announced. The arms indicated excitement. “These humans are indescribably inefficient in the use of their resources. They have no instinct for complex tools.”
“None?” demanded Ivan.
“None that I have seen.” Jock indicated the tri-v. “They must train their young in every trade. Many of the programs on this set are for that purpose.”
“They have time to learn,” Charlie reflected. “They live very long. Longer than any Master.”
“Yes, but what a waste. They have no Browns, and no Watchmakers—”
Ivan interrupted. “You are certain they have no Watchmakers?”
“Yes. We saw no signs on the ships, nor have there been any on the tri-v, nor are there the expected products of Watchmakers. There are no individualized personal items—”
“I have seen such. The guards who attended us on Lenin carried such and many wore such footgear.”
“Made by our own Watchmakers—”
“Precisely,” said Ivan. “Now we know why they destroyed MacArthur. And why they fear us.”
The Mediators jabbered excitedly until Ivan cut them off again. “You agree?” he asked in the tone commanding information to be confirmed.
“Yes!” they said in unison. Charlie spoke rapidly, drowning Jock out. “The Brown miner they took aboard would have carried a breeding pair of Watchmakers. The humans know nothing of Watchmakers and would have allowed them to escape. And given free run of the ship and much time to adapt to it—”
“Yet we were told they have Watchmakers,” Ivan said.
Jock took a pose indicating memory recall. After a second he said, “No. Sally allowed us to assume that they have them. When her Fyunch(click) suggested that human Watchmakers were large, Sally agreed.”
“And the midshipmen seemed startled when we spoke of them regarding construction of their lifeboats,” Charlie said flatly. “Yes. You are certainly correct.”
There was silence. Ivan thought. Then he said, “They know we have a prolific subspecies. You will reflect on this.”
“They fear that we deliberately caused the destruction of MacArthur,” Charlie said. “Curse! If only they had told us. We could have told them of the dangers, and the humans would have nothing to fear. Curse! Why did the universe arrange that the first Motie they met was a Brown?”
“They said MacArthur was infested with plague,” Jock mused. “And so it was, although we did not believe them. A plague of Watchmakers. Yet. If they truly believe we deliberately destroyed their ship, or allowed it to be destroyed, why have they not said so? Why did they not ask?”
“They conceal their vulnerabilities,” said Charlie. “And they never admit defeat. Even in their final minutes the midshipmen refused to surrender.”
There was silence. Ivan spoke. “The humans did not wish us to know there were Watchmakers aboard until they had killed them. They were certain they could do that. Then, after, they did not wish us to know Watchmakers could destroy their ships.”