As Allah wills. But it is a pity. Had I not been so concerned with the aliens, had I not done the Empire's work with the Traders, I would long since have escaped. Levant is large. But I would have had to leave New Scotland, and it is here the decisions will be made-what point to escape when the aliens may destroy us all?
The Marine Sergeant conducted him to an ornate conference room and held open the door until Bury went inside. Then, incredibly, the guards retired. There were only two men in the room with him.
"Good morning, my lord," Bury said to Rod Elaine. His words were even and smooth, but his mouth felt dry, and there was a sharp taste in the back of his throat as he bowed to the other man. "I have not been introduced to Senator Fowler, but of course his face is known to everyone in the Empire. Good morning, Senator."
Fowler nodded without rising from his seat at the big conference table. "Good morning, Excellency. Good of you to come. Have a seat, won't you?" He waved to a place opposite his
"Thank you" Bury took the indicated chair Then more astonishment, as Blaine brought coffee. Bury sniffed carefully and recognized it as a blend he had sent to the Palace chef for Blaine's use.
In the Name of Allah. They are playing games with me, but to what end? He felt rage mingled with fear, but no hope at all. And a wild, bubbling laugh rose in his throat.
"Just so we know where we stand, Excellency," Fowler said. He waved, and Blame activated a wall screen. The bulky features of Jonas Stone loomed out into the ornately paneled room. There was sweat on the brow and along the cheekbones, and Stone's voice alternately boomed and pleaded.
Bury listened impassively, his lip curled in contempt for Stone's weakness. There was no doubt at alclass="underline" the Navy had more than enough evidence to send him to a traitor's death. Still the smile did not fade from Bury lips. He would give them no satisfaction. He would not plead.
Eventually the tape ended. Fowler waved again and the rebel leader's image vanished. "Nobody's seen that but the three of us, Excellency," Fowler said carefully.
But no. What do they want? Is there hope after all?
"I don't know that it needs discussing," the Senator continued. "Me, I'd rather talk about Moties."
"Ah," said Bury. The tiny sound almost stuck in his throat. And do you wish to deal, or do you taunt me with the final horror? He swallowed coffee to moisten his tongue before he spoke. "I am sure that the Senator is aware of my views. I consider Modes the greatest threat humans have ever faced." He looked at the two men opposite him, but there was nothing to be read in their faces.
"We agree," Blame said.
Quickly, while hope rose. in Bury's eyes, Fowler added, "There's not much question about it. They're locked into a permanent state of population explosion followed by total war. If they ever get out of their system- Bury, they've got a soldier subspecies that puts the Saurons to shame. Hell, you've seen them."
Blaine did things to his pocket computer and another picture appeared: the time-machine sculpture.
"Those? But my Motie said they-" Bury stopped himself in realization. Then he laughed: the laugh of a man who has nothing more to lose.
"My Motie."
"Precisely." The Senator smiled faintly. "I can't say we have much trust in your Motie. Bury, even, if it were only the miniatures that got loose, we could lose whole worlds. They breed like bacteria. Nothing big enough to see breeds like that. But you know."
"Yes." Bury gathered himself with difficulty. His face smoothed, but behind his eyes was a myriad of glittering tiny eyes. Splendor of Allah I almost brought them out myself! Praise and glory to the One who is merciful...
"Dammit, stop shivering," Fowler commanded.
"My apologies. You will doubtless have heard of my encounter with miniatures." He glanced at Blaine and envied his external calm. Miniatures could be no less unpleasant to the commander of MacArthur. "I am pleased to hear that the Empire recognizes the dangers."
"Yeah. We're going to blockade the Modes. Bottle ‘em up in their own system."
"Would it not be better to exterminate them while we can?" Bury asked quietly. The voice was calm, but his dark eyes blazed.
"How?"
Bury nodded. "There would be political difficulties, of course. But I could find men to take an expedition to Mote Prime, and given the proper orders-"
Fowler gestured dismissal "I've got my own agents provocateurs if I need ‘em."
"Mine would be considerably less valuable. Bury looked pointedly at Blaine.
"Yeah" Fowler said nothing more for a moment, and Blaine stiffened visibly Then the Senator continued: "Better or worse, Trader, we've decided on the blockade, Government's shaky enough without being accused of genocide. Besides, I don't know as I like the idea of unprovoked attack on intelligent beings. We'll do it this way."
"But the threat!" Bury leaned forward, unmindful of the fanatical gleam in his eyes. He knew he was close-to
That story made me realize at last just how alien you humans are."
There was an embarrassed silence. As the elevator stopped Jock asked, "How goes your Institute?"
"Fine.. We've already sent for some of the department heads." She laughed, embarrassed. "I have to work fast: Rod won't let me think about the Institute after the wedding. You are coming, aren't you?"
The Mediators shrugged in unison, and one looked at the Marines. "We will be delighted if we are allowed to attend," Jock answered. "But we have no gifts for you. There is no Brown to make them."
"We'll get along without," Rod said. The elevator door stood open, but they waited for two of the Marines to inspect the corridor.
"Thank you for allowing me to meet Admiral Kutuzov," Jock said. "I have waited to speak with him since our embassy ship arrived alongside MacArthur."
Rod looked at the aliens in wonder. Jock's conversation with Kutuzov had been brief, and one of the most important questions the Motie had asked was "Do you like lemon in tea?"
They're so damned civilized and likable, and because of That they're going to spend the few years they've got left under guard while the Information Office blackguards them and their race. We've even hired a writer to script a play on the last hours of my midshipmen.
"It was little enough to do," Rod said. "We-"
"Yes. You can't let us go home." Charlie's voice changed to that of a New Scot youth. "We know aye more about humans than is safe." She gestured smoothly to the Marines. Two walked ahead into the hail, and the Moties followed. The other guards closed behind, and the procession marched through the corridor until they reached the Motie quarters. The elevator door closed softly.
Epilogue
Defiant lay nearly motionless in space at the outer fringes of the Murcheson System. There were other ships grouped around her in battle formation, and off to starboard hung Lenin like a swollen black egg. At least half the main battle fleet was in readiness at all times, and somewhere down in the red hell of the Eye other ships circled and waited. Defiant had just completed a tour with the Crazy Eddie Squadron.
That term was very nearly official. The men tended to use a lot of Mote terms. When a man won a big hand at poker he was likely to shout "Fyunch(click) !" And yet, Captain Herb Colvin mused, most of us have never seen a Motie. We hardly see their ships: just targets, helpless after transition.
A few had made it out of the Eye, but every one had been so badly damaged that it was hardly spaceworthy.
There was always plenty of time to warn the ships outside the Eye that another Mode was on the way-if the Eye hadn't killed them first.
The last few ships had emerged from the Crazy Eddie point at initial velocities up to a thousand km per second. How the hell could the Moties hit a Jump point at such speeds? Ships within the Eye couldn't catch them. They didn't need to, with the Mode crews-and autopilots-helpless in Jump shock and unable to decelerate. The fleeing black blobs had run up through the rainbow and exploded every time. Where the Modes used their unique expanding fields, they exploded sooner, picking up heat faster from the yellow-hot photosphere.