"Don't be silly," Freddy said. "Loaded down the way we are, that cruiser's boats could catch us with a long head start. Glenda Ruth, are you sure we want to go to the Mote?"
"I'm sure," Jennifer said.
"Chris wants us. Freddy, what do they have to bargain with? The Crazy Eddie Worm might make all the difference."
"Shouldn't we leave a breeding set here?"
"Pointless," Glenda Ruth said. "It won't be that long before the Institute ship gets to New Cal. My parents, and all the worms you'd ever want. But meanwhile, Bury and Renner may need bargaining chips fast."
Freddy mulled it over. "Well, all right. Look, how big a hurry are we in?"
"The quicker the better. Why?"
"Then we spend some time here." Freddy touched the intercom button. "Kakumi, it's time to lighten ship. Strip down to racing trim. Leave that special cargo in place, but otherwise lighten ship's stores."
Jennifer caught his grimace. "What?"
"George. He didn't volunteer for this. I'll leave him with the Navy if they'll let me. I sure hope one of you can cook!"
Hecate was in shambles. Freddy and Terry Kakumi worked to strip out bulkheads, rearrange equipment, and neither wanted help from Glenda Ruth or Jennifer. Glenda Ruth watched Freddy connect a hose to the foam wall, suck the air out all in one shoomph, roll it up and expose the master bedroom to all and sundry. Kakumi moved in with the hose, mated it to the bed, and shoomph.
To Hades with it, she thought. I'm going to take a shower while there's still a shower facility.
She felt superfluous. The Navy had no objections to Glenda Ruth's talking to the Moties, but the Moties were taking their time about answering the invitation. Why? Motie Mediators always wanted to talk; the decision must come from the Master, the one called Marco Polo.
Explorer and ambassador. The first expedition to the Mote had consisted of two Imperial warships, MacArthur and Lenin, with Lenin forbidden to talk to the Moties at all, and MacArthur greatly restricted in what information could be passed along. The Moties had obtained several books of human history from Chaplain Hardy of the MacArthur, but none covered events as recent as the invention of the Alderson Drive. That left them a limited number of human names and cultures to draw on,
They had chosen: Marco Polo, the Master. Sir Walter Raleigh, the senior Mediator. Interesting choice of names.
Glenda Ruth heard Jennifer's voice as she wriggled out of the shower bag. "Yes. Henry Hudson? Yes, of course... No, I can't promise that, Mr. Hudson, but I can let you talk to my superior." Jennifer's arm semaphored in frantic circles.
Glenda Ruth slid quickly into a towelsuit and moved up beside her.
Henry Hudson was a young Motie furred in brown and white; the pattern didn't match Glenda Ruth's memories of Jock and Charlie. Family markings differed, maybe. The creature seemed both strange and familiar. This one was probably no more than twelve Mote Prime years old, but Moties matured much faster than humans.
And Mediators aboard the other Motie ships would be watching everything. Glenda Ruth felt a surge of stage fright - nothing to what Jennifer must be feeling.
"Good day to you, Ms. Ambassador," the Motie said. Brown irised manlike eyes looked directly into hers. "Jennifer tells me you are Glenda Ruth Blaine, addressed formally as the Honorable Ms. Blaine. I call myself Henry Hudson, and I speak for Marco Polo, my Master. Might I know the nature and extent of your political power?"
Glenda Ruth smiled with the hint of a deprecating shrug. "Through family relationships, but none given formally. We came in some haste. I'll be granted some decision power just because I was here and others weren't, and my family..." She trailed off. It felt like talking to a squid: the creature wasn't reacting right.
She was vaguely aware that behind her Jennifer was speaking rapidly and quietly into a mike. A middie was in the second viewscreen; then an officer; then Balasingham himself. Good. He didn't try to interrupt.
The Motie said, "It delights me to speak to you regardless."
The creature's Anglic was textbook perfect. Her arms...
"Your progenitors visited us before my birth! Including your father?"
"Father and mother."
"Ah. How did it change them?" Arms, shoulders, head, moved wrongly, with a momentary illusion of broken joints, and Glenda Ruth was suddenly terribly aware of her own arms, shoulders, fingers, body language moving without conscious thought, in a language learned from Charlie and Jock. And suddenly she understood.
"You were not trained by a human's Fyunch(click)!"
"No, milady." The Motie moved its arms in a pattern unfamiliar to Glenda Ruth. "I have been taught your language, and some of your customs. I am aware that you do not experience our cycle of reproduction, and that your power structures are different from ours, but I have been assigned no one human to study."
"As yet."
"As you say. Not until we meet the givers of orders in your Empire." It paused. "You do not speak for your Masters. I have been told that I would meet-humans-who were neither Mediator nor Master, but I confess that the experience is stranger than I had anticipated."
"You speak for...
"Medina Traders and certain allied families. My sister Eudoxus returned to the Mote with your ships."
Glenda Ruth grinned. "Eudoxus. Medina Traders. For Mr. Bury's benefit, of course."
"Of course. The terms would be familiar to him."
"But that name would imply that you do not speak for the Motie species. Who are Medina Traders? Who must we negotiate with?"
"We are the family with the foresight and the power to be here in the moment after Crazy Eddie's Sister opened a path. You are surely aware that none can speak for the Motie species. It's a problem, isn't it? The Empire doesn't like that." Henry Hudson studied her for a moment. His own posture still showed nothing. "You have learned Motie customs, some of them, but from a group I have never met." It paused again. "I wish to consult the Ambassador. Forgive me." The screen blanked.
"What's happening?" Freddy asked.
"I'm not sure. Captain Balasingham, have you spoken with these Moties?"
"Only formalities, my Lady," Agamemnon's skipper said from the viewscreen. "We instructed them to take station here. They have requested to be taken to our seat of government, and we told them that would happen in due time. Not much else. There's something odd happening, isn't there?"
"Yes."
"Why did he have to go running to his superior?"
"He doesn't represent King Peter. Or anybody who knew King Peter's family."
"King Peter?" Balasingham prompted.
"King Peter headed the Motie alliance that dealt with MacArthur and Lenin. They sent us our first group of Motie ambassadors, the ones I grew up with. But these Moties don't represent King Peter or any large Motie group. He doesn't even know the... well, the signals, the body language that Charlie and Jock taught me." Glenda Ruth's arms, torso, shoulders, moved in twitchy intricacy as she recited, " ‘Irony, nerves, anger held in check, you ask too much, trust my words, trust me fully.' Universal, simple stuff even a human can learn."
Jennifer Banda wasn't breathing. Behind her unfocused eyes she was trying to memorize what she had seen.
"I'm afraid that still doesn't mean anything to me, my Lady," Balasingham said.
"This Motie represents a group that has been out of contact with King Peter's group for a very long time," Glenda Ruth said. "Cycles. Several cycles."
When Balasingham frowned in puzzlement, Jennifer added, "But King Peter's organization was very powerful. Widespread. Very likely planetwide."
"Planetwide, indeed. They had to be," Glenda Ruth said.
"So any group out of touch so long ..." Jennifer fell silent.
"I still don't get it, but I guess I don't have to. So what are they consulting about?" Balasingham demanded.