The Gripping Hand

by Larry Niven

  "This is splendid news," Bury said. "We are in your debt. I wonder if we might prevail upon Medina's hospitality for one more favor."

  "You have but to ask, presuming it is possible," Eudoxus said.

  "A message," Bury said. "It would be well for all concerned if Lord Blaine were informed that his offspring are safe."

  Eudoxus and Omar looked at each other. Ali Baba's attention remained fixed on Bury. "An interesting notion," Eudoxus said. "But one that presents considerable technical difficulties. Neither East India nor Medina controls Crazy Eddie's Sister. Nor do the Crimean Tartars. The Khanate now holds that point and even now gathers more warships to consolidate their hold. Their own, and others. We fear they have created a formidable alliance, one which may even now be growing."

  "A combined action of Medina and East India might suffice to escort one ship to the Sister," Omar said. "But as East India has more ships in that area, our losses would be the greater. We would require compensation."

  "I had in mind something simpler," Bury said. "Send a message through the Crazy Eddie point to Murcheson's Eye. Take one of your flimsy token ships. Wrap a transmitter in a thick layer of suitably ablative material with a mechanical device to turn it on once through. Let it broadcast its location. Message cubes inside should survive long enough to be retrieved."

  "Simple mechanical device," Omar said.

  "Jump shock is an experience previously described to us, which I have now twice experienced," Eudoxus said. "It is-formidable. Excellency, I need hardly point out that the contents of a message to your blockade battle fleet will be of great interest to all of us. Will you summon that fleet here?"

  "I think not," Bury said. "But surely it would be to our advantage to have those not inconsiderable resources at our disposal?" He looked significantly at the Motie Warriors. "And of course we will continue to enjoy your gracious hospitality as we negotiate."

  Eudoxus and Omar exchanged looks, then Eudoxus began to speak, slowly and carefully, in the glottal language the Moties had been using to speak to their Masters. Both Masters replied, each to a Mediator, never to each other. The messenger was sent out. Two came back; they delivered messages to each of the Mediators. The Masters spoke quickly and curtly, the Mediators at greater length. The discussion continued for a long time as Joyce's pickup whirred

  Bury waited with a look of serene calm. Ali Baba aped his look, a study of serious concentration. Blaine reported developments to Sinbad and Renner.

  Finally Eudoxus spoke. "It seems you are correct, Excellency. We may have need of your fleet. We count five fleets probably converging on us. One is from Byzantium. We have reports that the Masters of the Mote Beta moons, the group we have called the Persian Empire, are gathering a fleet. The Khanate has summoned allies to their aid in holding the Sister. There comes another large group from sunward."

  "In other words, everyone who has warships is becoming involved," Joyce Trujillo said.

  "Just so," Omar said. "And thus our Masters are agreed. The partnership between Medina and East India shall be renewed. When that is accomplished, it would be well to summon whatever resources your Empire can bring."

  "Before they kill us all," Joyce said.

  Omar bowed. "Just so."

  Engineers had erected a screen around the area where Dr. Doolittle and his aides worked on Terry. Freddy was back there for ten hours, while Jennifer and Glenda Ruth waited alone. Finally he came out.

  "I'll have to go back presently," he said. "They want my opinions. Mostly I don't know, but I can work the data retrieval system for Dr. Doolittle. It's mostly in charts. Some of it I have to read to him, with gestures. He learns fast, numbers he understands already. Got any coffee?"

  Jennifer handed him a bulb. "I should heat that."

  "Heat the next one. I'll drink this."

  All right." Jennifer put a bulb in the microwave and started it.

  "Freddy, I haven't heard Victoria back there?"

  "She's been gone for hours. One of the others, I think the Engineer that's been... improving Hecate, came and got her, and that was the last I saw of her. Sometimes I talk into a mike and Dr. Doolittle listens to what has to be a translation, but I don't know who's on the other end." Freddy sipped the lukewarm coffee. "Good stuff. Thanks."

  "When can I see him?" Jennifer's cry was more nearly a wail.

  Freddy looked to Glenda Ruth.

  Glenda Ruth dropped her pensive look and shuddered. "I think you should wait to be asked. Something odd is happening."

  "I'm scared," Jennifer said. "We talked about-he grew up on Tanith, you know. Freddy, he will be all right!"

  "If the Moties can manage it, he will be," Freddy said. "They're going all out. They have some instrument the size of a spatball racket that puts a three-D image of Terry's insides on our tri-vee screen. They've got him stabilized. Blood pressure has been the same for hours now."

  It had not been instantly obvious: the looming bulk of the Mosque had been a block of water ice permeated by tunnels when Sinbad docked. But Engineers had been at work, carving rooms out of the ice, insulating, decorating. The lounge, located just outside Sinbad's airlock, had been growing during the negotiations. Now there was a small kitchen, a wardrobe, and a half-completed minigym besides the conversation pit with Motie and human chairs and couches. Chris feared it would be the size of Serpens City before they accomplished anything.

  Eudoxus spoke long and earnestly to the Master called Admiral Mustapha Pasha. From time to time Omar spoke to the East India Master in the guttural language Chris Blaine had learned to recognize as the Motie trade koine. Ali Baba moved from Bury to Omar and back, but his attention was always on Bury.

  Messengers went to and fro like big-headed, lopsided spider monkeys, beautiful only in their agility. Mediators and Masters took frequent rest periods and returned always together, sometimes with Motie pups. The Mediators were talking now, briskly, as if it hadn't all been talked to death long since.

  Chris watched and listened and presently offered to speak for Joyce's pickup camera. Joyce tried to find an excuse to refuse and gave up almost instantly. "Thank you, Lieutenant Blaine," she said most courteously, and posed him in a corner of the new lounge.

  So: scholar's pose, no sexual signals, and give her his best. "A pidgin is needed to bridge two languages because shadings and nuances and background assumptions don't work. You need it whenever nuances don't work. But Motie language is inflections and body language and even scent, and any of that might have to be dropped for a telephone, or pressure suits, or video with a bad connection. The weird thing is just how easily these Moties use what they can and drop everything else. It isn't just the flexibility of the trade language. They generally have to create a trade language on the spot." Chris saw goblin ears focused on him and wondered how much they would understand. How much he understood.

  "We're watching a parallel here. Ali Baba, not yet at the age of reason, clearly understands the concept called Fyunch(click) in the Mote Prime language. We're watching him learn both Anglic and the new pidgin simultaneously, and in hours he has learned what a bright human child might pick up in days or weeks. Biological specialization at work. And of course we've seen that in the other specialties.

  "We're learning a lot about Moties, and that's important."

  "Can you say more about that, Lieutenant?" Joyce asked. Her tone was richly professional.

  "We've no choice, this time," Chris said. "Blockades just aren't going to work. We'll have to learn to get along with the Moties-"

  "One way or another," Joyce said, but her own pickup mike wasn't on. "Lieutenant-" She stopped.

  Here came the paired messengers again. Chris watched them scamper along the chamber's multicolored rock, breaking stride and zigging into channels and depressions. He'd watched them several times, and this time he was sure: their fur changed color to match the rock. Piloerection was doing that, exposing different layers, but the effect hid them like chameleons. They reached their respective M
asters, clung to their fur, and whispered briefly.

  The Masters had one final exchange with their Mediators, and all four Mediators came to the human group.

  "Excellency," Omar said. "I am pleased to inform you that Medina and East India are agreed, in principle and in all essential details." He bowed; his feet left the rock and returned when he straightened.

  "This is pleasing," Bury said.

  Eudoxus bowed, too. Nobody laughed. "We have agreed on our status and domains, but more important is that we have agreed about you. We tell you nothing new when we say our choices are limited, and our greatest asset is your friendship."

  Bury nodded. "More pleasing still. We are honored to be your friends."

  "Thank you," Omar said. "We perceive that even if we watch you compose the message you will send to your colleagues in the Crazy Eddie Squadron, we must still trust you to tell us its meaning. Before you send this message you will naturally wish to speak with crew aboard your ship, and it is pointless to detain you here. When your message is complete, East India will deliver it. A suitable ship is being readied."

  This time Bury's smile was warm and genuine. "Our thanks. Your hospitality has been admirable, but perhaps my friends would be more comfortable aboard our own ship."

  "There is one matter," Omar said. "My colleague at the Crimean Tartar fleet reports his own observation that all the humans aboard Hecate are alive, and only the engineer-warrior has been injured; but for reasons that the Crimean Tartar Mediator will neither explain nor discuss, he has not been permitted to speak with them. We have been promised that this will change soon."

  Bury acknowledged with a nod.

  Damned odd, Chris thought. Something has changed, something happened that the Tartars don't want us to know. What? But Eudoxus and Omar knew that as well as he did.

  "Do you wish to return to your ship now?" Eudoxus asked.

  Bury nodded gravely. "It would be convenient."

  "Medina and East India have come to another agreement, Excellency," Omar said. "But one which requires your consent. With your permission, Au Baba will become your companion. An apprentice. Of course he will spend only part of his time with you, as he must learn our languages and customs as well."

  Bury bowed slightly. "I am flattered. I find him an agreeable companion. However, you will understand, there will be times when I must be alone with my friends."

  "Of course, Excellency."

  "Meanwhile, this is satisfactory. We go now to draft our messages. We will, of course, read and explain to you any message we compose."

  "Thank you. We will provide you with an escort," Eudoxus said. "Joyce, your viewers may be interested in this base. If you would care to see more of it, I am available to conduct you on a tour. We'll have you back on Sinbad in, say, two hours?"

  "Perhaps another time," Chris Blaine said. What did they have in mind? Nuances here, subtle, ominous.

  Eudoxus spread her hands slightly. "There may be no other time when we are both free, but of course it will be as you wish."

  "No, I want to go," Joyce said. "You can tell me about the message later when we finish the interview. Eudoxus, I'd love to see the rest of your base."

  "Very good. Join us when you can, Joyce," Bury said affably.

  Chris as a Navy officer knew that he didn't have Bury's authority. If Bury saw no way to stop her or them, how could Chris? He'd have to use persuasion- Outmaneuvered. Joyce was gone, Eudoxus leading and a Warrior behind. Bury and Omar followed at a leisurely pace, chatting, Bury carrying Ali Baba. They left Chris and Cynthia to bring up the rear.

  After fifteen hours in the hidden depths of Cerberus, Victoria arrowed through the airlock with the agility of a Messenger. Glenda Ruth was jolted.

  "Victoria? Victoria, what are th-"

  "We have to talk. Ambassadors are arriving."

  "Ambassadors from where?"

  "Second, from the kingdom that allies with your ships called Sinbad and Atropos, henceforth Medina Trading Company."

  Jennifer smiled acknowledgment. "Medina-"

  "Later," Victoria said. "The Medina ship will rendezvous here; Vermin City makes a convenient target. But the first is already aboard. He speaks for former allies of Medina, henceforth East India Trading Company. The two are now involved in a dominance dance. We must settle certain matters before he may see you. We've been verbal-dancing for some days."

  Glenda Ruth looked at the screen that hid Terry and Doctor Doolittle. "Can we summon a human doctor?"

  "He is in no more danger than you are," Victoria said. "How is it that one of our Engineers has turned male without first giving birth?"

  "Oops," Jennifer said.

  "And so has one of our Warriors," Victoria said, "and although Watchmakers are difficult to keep track of-"

  "How do you feel?"

  "We must settle this now. Have you brought alien death among us? What did you say, Glenda Ruth?"

  "How do you feel, Victoria?"

  The Mediator tasted the question, as if she found the flavor novel and fascinating. "I feel good. Motivated. The air is sweet, our food seems up to specs, my appetite-" Victoria suddenly reached between her legs. "Talk fast," she said. "For your lives."

  "I have a recording to play for you."

  BLAINE INSTITUTE REPORTS, Volume 26, Number 5, Imperial Library number ACX-7743DL-2359 10:26:5

  Approaches to Stability of the Mote Civilization

  Ishikara, Mary Anne, Dashievko, Ahmed, Grodnik, Vladimir Lambert, George G.: Rikorsky, W. L., and Talbot, Fletcher E,

  "The C-L Symbiote,"

  Research reported in this document was funded by grants from the Imperial Ministry of Defense, the Imperial Select Commission for Governing Relations with Aliens, and the Blaine Foundation.

  Summary

  The Blaine Symbiote or C-L (Contraceptive-Longevity) worm is bioengineered from a Motie benign parasitic organism similar to platyhelminths. The resulting C-L organism is a symbiote that lives in the Motie body and produces the same hormone that the male testes produce.

  The original symbiotes were universally present in the intestinal tracts of all Moties studied. The first forms were detected in the Motie Engineer taken aboard MacArthur, but none of those specimens survived. The current C-L syrnbmote has been bred from a strain taken from the Motie known as Ivan. It is known to survive in Mediator castes, and there is no reason to suppose it will not thrive in all Motie castes,

  In all Motie castes so far examined there has been one testis, and the documents brought by the Motie ambassadors, and the Moties themselves, do not contradict this, This testis normally withers, Hapgood et. al (I) have speculated that this withering is triggered in part by pheromones given of f by a pregnant female, but it is known Ivanov and Spector. (2)) that the process is more complex than that.

  Upon withering of the single testis, the Motie turns female, Pregnancy must follow soon after or the Motie sickens and dies, with symptoms not unlike vitamin deficiency. See Renner, K. (3), Fowler, S. (4), and Elaine and Blaine (5), as well as The Report of the MacArthur Expedition (6), for details. The process of giving birth excites cells in the birth canal, and more male testes form,

  The C-L symbiote normally sites itself anywhere in the body cavity and does not wither. Present data indicate that several C-Ls have no more effect than one, It is believed that this is due to excretion of surplus hormone via Plumbing-Six, tentatively the kidney.

  We have observed no signs that C-L will breed in a host Motie, undoubtedly due to inhibition by the hormone itself. Consequently C-L must be bred externally in an environment that provides sufficient fluid around them to flush the hormone.

  Video Report (Reuters)

  Blaine Institute Announces New Developments in Bioengineering

  (Film clip: Lord and Lady Elaine, the Hon. Glenda Ruth Blaine, students at the Blaine Institute, and His Excellency the Ambassador from Mote Prime, announcing publication of results of bioengineering development.)

  "Of course that re
cord could have been made at any time," Victoria said.

  "It has me in it."

  "Or a very good double, Glenda Ruth. It would take much forethought to plan far in advance to deceive us into believing that a Mediator can survive this long-but your Empire has both means and motive."

  "I'm in the pictures, too," Jennifer said.

  "Yes. You would require two doubles and two surgical alterations of adults. Is this beyond your capability?"

  Freddy's eyes wandered from the screen to Glenda Ruth to the screen, and he shook his head.

  Victoria, watching him carefully, said, "Jock's survival surprised you, Freddy, when you learned of it from Jennifer and Glenda Ruth. With her training, could Glenda Ruth deceive you? And Jennifer?"

  "It's not that. Think, Victoria. If that's not Jennifer and Glenda Ruth, then it's two actors just out of surgery who have to fool Motie Mediators, and know they've done it!"

  Good, Freddy! "This game gives us no profit," Glenda Ruth said. "Victoria, you already feel better than you have in years! And your Engineer, and your Warrior, are they sick?"

  "Is this reversible in fertile castes?" Victoria demanded.

  "Probably. With difficulty, but very probably. Is the native parasite endemic to space civilizations?"

  "If so, I do not know of it. It is no skill of mine. Would I be infected with a parasite and not know?"

  "Why not? People often are," Freddy said.

  "Even those who live in isolation? I see you believe so." The Motie paused, and whatever expressions Glenda Ruth had been able to read were replaced by a different mask. "I must think on this."

  "Wait. There." She could have remained silent- Too late. Victoria turned. "What?"

  "I don't have any better argument than that." Glenda Ruth pointed. "On the screen, Victoria."

  The busy spacecraft of Captor Fleet had torn away a tremendous strip of the city's skin. Pandemonium lay exposed, a hive of cells still sparking with defenses. Corpses floated away in a pestilential cloud of black dots. The ships pulled a square kilometer of transparent skin over the wound and moved inside to work. Nothing was to be lost.