The Gripping Hand

by Larry Niven

  "I didn't notice that on Mote Prime," Renner said. "But maybe I wouldn't have. But- You know, they did have stories about everything. The paintings, the statuary, they made up stories to hide their past, and they did put the best face they could on things. On the other hand it occurs to me that Chris and Glenda Ruth, me, all of us only knew Mote Prime Moties. Which means none of us are real experts."

  "Except His Excellency," Chris Blaine said. "Look at how valuable Bury Mediators are. Of course they're expecting the Empire to be much more like Mr. Bury sees it than as we do."

  "As I saw it nearly thirty years ago, Lieutenant," Bury said.

  "Damnation," Rawlins said. "Commodore, this is way over my head. Only thing I'm sure of, if we let something happen to Lord Blaine's daughter, my career is finished. Well, I guess I know what to do, keep the guns and torpedoes ready and wait for orders. Commodore, you tell me what to shoot at, I'll try to shoot it, but I sure don't know any more than that!"

  "Join the club. Signing off." Renner thumbed the switch,

  Joyce turned to Chris Blaine. "All right, what's the Crazy Eddie Worm?"

  "I can't tell you," Chris said.

  She turned to Renner. "The deal was, I learn everything. Now you're going back on that?"

  Chris Blaine said. "Joyce, do you want to be forbidden to talk to Moties?"

  "No, of course not. And you can't do that!"

  "We can't do that. Joyce, we can't fall thirty stories unless somebody's pushed us off a balcony! There are things you can't know. If you know them, you can't talk to Moties because then the Moties would know them, too."

  She didn't believe him, not even when Kevin nodded at her.

  "Kevin!"

  Renner vaguely knew he was asleep, and someone to wake him, and he didn't care.

  "Come on, Kevin. Come on, open the bloody circuit. Your attention please, Captain Renner. God damn it, Kevin-"

  "Yeah? Buckman? What?"

  "It's a message from nowhere, Kevin, nowhere we know anyway. I just got it."

  "Message from nowhere. Important. What is it?"

  "It was a general broadcast, wide beam. Must have cost a lot of power to send. Kevin, there's a cover message and a complete library of astronomy for the past hundred thousand years! More, I think! You were asleep, so before I woke you I did some tests. I sampled their observations to see how they match the New Caledonia database over the past few hundred years. It all verifies, all I tested does anyway. Kevin, I think you've got to do something about this. Oh, and Phidippides wants to talk. Atropos wants to talk."

  "Yeah." Renner found his uniform and wrestled his legs into it. "Verification. Well?"

  "Loci for some of the more obvious stars check out. I started a program to verify the orbits of Murcheson's Eye and the Mote. Then I came and got you. It should be finished by now."

  "Okay, let's go." He squeezed through the curtain. "Hello, Horace. You're looking well this morning. Cynthia, we need breakfast, large, served at our posts." Into his acceleration couch. "Jacob, first show me that message. Then you can get me Atropos."

  "It's this file."

  The message was printed out on Kevin's screen, but it gave the impression of being written on a scroll:

  "Greetings, 0 Caliph from afar, from the newest of your servants. You may think of us as the Library at Alexandria; our locus is described in this vector. We give you this record of all of our history's observations of this region of the sky. We have watched the skies for countless ages, and we offer all this to you that you will be pleased with us and know how useful we can be. Remember us, 0 Caliph, when you come into your kingdom."

  Renner was at a loss for words. Not so Bury: "This tells us many things," he said, "not the least of which is that they have a Bury apprentice Mediator."

  "What else?"

  "They know nothing of us. They're powerless and poor. They have no way to engage in dialogue with us, which may imply that they fear Medina, or that they are light-hours away."

  "Both, I'd say," Blaine said. "But they're certainly a long way off towards Mote Gamma. They've got good detection. They broadcast across just over two billion kilometers. Even so, they must be poverty-stricken, or they would have sent something, if only a relay to project a narrower beam."

  Bury dreamed, his face calm and perfectly still. "Yes. As is, look what they've done. They've spilled their secrets across the sky. They've given away all they had because there was no way to establish a trade. Perhaps the strangers are not strangers to gratitude. Exactly right, for those with no power at all."

  "Thanks-"

  "There is more. They believe we are powerful, or likely to become so. This argues that others do also. The question is, why? Certainly we are not now."

  "Thanks, Horace. Buckman, what have you got?"

  "New program just finishing. Their orbits for the Eye and the Mote check against what I've got, with a minor margin of error."

  "A hundred thousand years of observations?"

  "That, or two or three."

  ‘Okay get me-"

  "Wait one, Kevin. This is finished. Mmm."

  Renner watched Buckman dreaming before his screen and presently said, "See if you can describe it," biting off the words.

  "Yeah. It's a reiterative program to predict the collapse of Buckman's Protostar, Kevin, at first blush it looks like Medina Trading should have had this. It would have given them the right date year. I mean this is really, seriously valuable."

  "Okay. Get me Atropos."

  "Yes, sir, we received a copy, too," Rawlins said. "It came from an asteroid that trails the Beta Leading Trojans."

  "Onk?"

  "Beta Leading Trojans, sir-"

  "Right, I understand that."

  "Well, there's an asteroid that trails that group. The group is sixty degrees in front of Mote Beta."

  "Naturally."

  "And this is maybe fifty degrees from Beta."

  "Unstable. Had to be nudged, right, Jacob? Anything else, Rawlins?"

  "Yeah, my Sailing Master is a science buff, and he hasn't stopped playing with that since he got it."

  Eudoxus's sneer was clear and blatant, if hard to describe. "'Library at Alexandria,' forsooth! Their claim would have been valid once. They're near broken, now. They still had some of their wealth ten years ago."

  "That would be when they bought a Bury Mediator," Kevin surmised.

  The Motie didn't visibly react. "Yes, they bought their Bury Fyunch(click) from Persia. They were maintaining their ancient tradition of collecting and codifying knowledge. Perhaps they still are.

  "They're the oldest family we know of. They've traded in information throughout history. They've had to move countless times. They were in the Leading Trojans of Beta eight thousand years ago, at the killing of the Doctors."

  "We heard of that," Renner said. Something made him add, "No, I guess we didn't."

  "Was there a Killing of the Doctors on Mote Prime? I'm not surprised," Eudoxus said. "It must seem so obvious. Doctors make population problems worse, yes?"

  "Obvious, right,"

  "Here it was very successful. Alexandria refused to participate and so did some other forgotten civilizations; they must all have been destroyed by the victors. Alexandria alone kept their Doctors. Afterward they bred a basic stock and sold crossbreeds and tailored mutations. But other cultures have sequestered their own breeding stock, Doctors and other rare castes, and Alexandria has fallen on hard times."

  "Should we be dealing with them?" Renner asked. He noticed Bury's attention fully on the screen.

  "It does no harm," Eudoxus said. "They are considered-a bit strange. But they're no threat, and they can be useful."

  Bury was nodding to himself. When Renner broke the connection with Eudoxus, Bury said, "Interesting. Strange. No threat. Librarians. Kevin, this group is poor, but it is permitted to keep its resources." He smiled softly, "Whatever our final decisions, they should include Alexandria."

  "Okay, we're closing on it," Buck
man said. He image on the screen: a dark object surrounded by "And now Eudoxus is relaying a better picture."

  The Motie ship had run on ahead and was nearly Motie base. The screens showed a ring of fusion fire linking black candle flames: fusion rocket motors, forty or more, bright enough to wash out the sensors.

  The light washed out some detail, but... the motors ringed one side of a highly regular iceball. Most of the iceball was webbed in colored lines and studded here and there with domes connected by bright bands on the surface. Some of the domes were transparent. There were ships, too, scores of them on the ice and in the space around it.

  The instruments aboard Atropos were superior to what Sinbad carried. A man aboard Atropos was relaying data. "Mass: sixty-five thousand tonnes. One klick by half a klick by half a klick. Albedo: ninety-Six percent."

  "My God, it's huge," Renner said. "Not so bloody big for a comet, but it's not a comet anymore. It's a carrier spacecraft! Joyce, did the Empire ever build-"

  The image became a black ball with only the engine-glare protruding. The proprietors had closed the Field.

  Eudoxus appeared. "That's Inner Base Six," she said. "Maneuver to the gripping side in this plane."

  From Atropos: "The surface is foamed hydrogen ice. We think the interior is hydrogen ice; the mass is about right. The jets are hydrogen fusion with some refinements."

  Renner said, "The Crazy Eddie Probe looked bigger than that. Way bigger, but it turned out to be only a lightsail. I remember before we found that out, Captain Blaine was wondering if we'd have to land on it with Marines."

  "This time we do land, I think," Horace Bury said.

  Half an hour later, Sinbad was close enough to feel the iceball's minuscule gravity. "Here goes," Renner said.

  "Yes, sir," Commander Rawlins said. "Sir, I agree it's best to get Sinbad under a powerful Langston Field, but I won't be sorry to keep Atropos out here where I can maneuver, Captain, they've got a lot of ships and guns in there. There's no way I could force them to let you out."

  "Right," Renner said

  "We can presume that Hecate's crew are in similar circumstances," Blaine said.

  "The Moties of Mote Prime were gracious hosts," Bury said. "We believe these Moties are even more similar to Arabs."

  "Yeah. Well, it's one way to find out if Moties have the same ideas about hospitality that Arabs do," Renner said.

  "As Allah wills. I am ready, Kevin."

  The black shield disappeared. Sinbczd sank toward Base Six. Phidippides moved ahead, veering away toward its own mooring.

  Chris pointed. "I think that must be ours."

  Renner laughed. "Yeah. My God, it's a mosque."

  It was magnificent. It was human, the only shape down there that wasn't utilitarian and alien. Light and airy, a bubble of painted masonry afloat on the ice field. The structure couldn't have been marble; it might well have been carved ice. It was far more mosquelike than the castle King Peter's people had built them on Mote Prime, and considerably smaller. A mosque with a cavity in it... a vertical channel or well, from which cables were even now snaking toward Sinbad.

  The black Field closed over the black sky: the stars disappeared. Atropos, on station well away from Base Six, was now out of communication. Renner felt Sinbad's vulnerability.

  Sinbad was winched toward the well in the Mosque. It would fit exactly.

  "Close fit," Buckman said. "After what we saw on Mote Prime, there isn't much Motie Engineers can do that would surprise me- looks like they have transfer bays matching the airlocks."

  Sinbad was pulled inexorably into the docking bay. Those transfer bays were unfinished, mere holes. And Motie Engineers were waiting in the bays, prepared to finish them on the spot.

  Fuel began to flow into Sinbad. Good: they'd kept that promise.

  It was nearly an hour before the Moties finished connecting Sinbad to an antenna extended through the restored Field. By then Renner was savage with impatience. He pulled himself under control-because if he didn't, Rawlins wouldn't!-and said, "Atropos, this is Sinbad. Testing."

  "Atropos here, sir. Locked on. Stand by for-"

  "I'm here," said Rawlins.

  "Right. Commander, we can figure that anything said monitored by the Moties. I want you to keep testing this circuit. Be sure we have communications."

  "Yes, sir. And if we don't?"

  "Try to reestablish, but the instant you're out of touch with Sinbad, you're in command. Do what you think best. You'll recall the last orders you got from Balasingham. Of course you'll stay at full-alert status unless I tell you to stand down."

  "Yes, sir. Understood. Do you expect real trouble, Captain Renner?"

  "Not from here. I think the Moties here will be perfect hosts. Of course they told us they had a major readjustment of their relationship with the East India Company. That sounded sticky."

  "Yes, sir."

  "And I'll try to find out what that involved. I'll leave the circuits open on standby." Renner touched switches. "And that's done. Horace, I think it's time. Joyce, do you really want to carry-"

  "It only masses eight kilograms." Joyce hefted the gyro-stabilized pickup camera. It wriggled within its sleeve like a thing alive.

  Renner touched indicators: inner lock, override, outer lock. Sinbad's air-lock doors swung in and out... on a corridor decorated in Moorish abstracts, and good air with a trace of chemicals in it.

  Chris Blaine waited impatiently as Eudoxus explained to Horace Bury. "We really don't have room for your Warriors to accompany us," she said. "Of course you don't expect to be escorted by Warriors any more than I do, but a Master of your importance would. My Master will have his Warriors present when you meet."

  "It is no matter." Bury waved to indicate Blaine, Cynthia, Nabil, and Joyce. "My friends will have to substitute. In future years we will find new Customs for meetings between humans and Moties."

  "Thank you." Eudoxus paused. "There's another small matter. We're hoping you won't need your travel chair, Excellency. But we can rebuild the corridors if we must."

  Bury smiled. "You are gracious hosts. Thank you, but for the moment Nabil can carry a portable medical unit that will suffice for my needs. Lead on."

  "All right. Kevin."

  "I'd better stay in contact with Atropos," Renner said. He was captain; he could not leave his ship.

  The corridors bustled with activity. There were Engineers and Watchmakers everywhere. Blaine glanced over Nabil's shoulder at Bury's medical readouts. Calm. Total calm. Perhaps even frighteningly calm.

  They entered a dome, a flattened sphere. Through a forest of vines they looked out on the surface. White snow, pastel domes, lines in primary colors. And-Joyce looked behind her, then dashed that way and pointed her pickup camera between two masses of dark greenery.

  The Mosque was magnificent. Joyce held for a moment, then zoomed on Sinbad, its single minaret, the piece that made it an artistic whole. She said, "We'll want to go out."

  "No problem," Eudoxus said. "Your viewers would feel cheated if they couldn't see it all. Sensory deprivation?"

  Joyce only nodded. An instant later she stumbled as she saw how much she was telling Eudoxus about herself. Chris let his grin show through.

  Now the corridor dipped beneath the ice. Branches ran off to the sides and up. Here and there were discreet vertical slits, like arrow notches in an ancient keep. Narrower tubes crossed the corridor above head height. Moties popped through these like leaves in a storm.

  Down they went, deep into the interior of Base Six.

  The corridor opened into a large chamber. Two grotesque shapes stood by a door at the far end. Chris saw Eudoxus's tension as they passed inside. He looked behind him and was not terribly surprised to see two more of the spiky horrors

  "Warriors," Joyce muttered. "Frightening efficiency, almost beautiful." She waved her pickup

  Nabil and Cynthia were on hair triggers.

  One of the Warrior shapes moved to open the door. They were escorted
into another large chamber. A white Motie nursed a pup at the far end. To that one's left stood two Warriors, and to their left was another white and a brown-and-white.

  Eudoxus spoke rapidly in a language the humans didn't understand. The other Mediator instantly interrupted with splayed arms and an angry bark.

  "Hracht! Our Masters spoke that this talk will speak in Anglic," that one said. He seemed unaware that he had the full, dangerous attention of every Warrior in the room. "Then we speak these same thoughts in the trade language. Need is sorrowful, but given recent change in levels, we demand. Else East India Trading Company will not act for you or with you."

  Eudoxus gave the impression of bowing. "Very well. I have the honor to present His Excellency Horace Hussein al-Shamlan Bury, Magnate of the Empire, director of the Imperial Traders Association. Your Excellency, my Master, Admiral Mustapha Pasha. Our associate Master of the East India Company, Lord Cornwallis. The young mediator who speaks for Lord Cornwallis may be called Wordsworth." Eudoxus gestured to his master.

  Mustapha spoke slowly and carefully.

  "Excellency, welcome to Inner Base Six," Eudoxus translated. "In the name of the Caliph Almohad, who sends her greetings. This is your house."

  "Thank you," Bury said. "You are gracious hosts." He bowed slightly to both Motie masters, then nodded to Chris Blaine.

  "I will speak for His Excellency," Blaine said. "We wish again to thank you for your hospitality, and to assure you we understand that the need for haste was the cause of our coming here with less than full understanding."

  Joyce moved to one side so that she could see everyone. Her pickup wriggled in her hands and made a tiny whirring sound. One of the Warriors started a rapid movement that was halted by a short bark from Admiral Mustapha.

  Chris Blaine turned to the other Mediator. "Wordsworth, please assure Lord Cornwallis that we are pleased to meet him."

  "Her," Wordsworth said. "Medina speakers tell humans are usually hurrying. Is true?"

  "Often," Blaine said.

  "Then forgive me if we talk important things now," Wordsworth said. "Do you know what your hosts do to us? We were guests, and betrayed. The half of us are dead, torn by flying bits of metal, ripped apart by no air-"