The mote in God's eye by Larry Niven & Jerry Pournelle

Author:Larry Niven & Jerry Pournelle [Niven, Larry]
Format: epub
Tags: Science fiction, Adventure, General, Science Fiction - General, Fiction, Juvenile Fiction, Fiction - Science Fiction, Space Opera, Short stories, Science fiction, American, Science Fiction, Fantasy, Magic, Science, Astronomy
ISBN: 9780671491758
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2010-01-21T15:52:32+00:00

31-Defeat

MacArthur lurched suddenly. Rod clawed at the intercom and shouted, "Chief Sinclair! What are you doing, Chief?"

The reply was barely audible. " 'Tis nae my doin', Captain. I hae nae control o' the attitude jets, and precious little o' anything else."

"Oh, Lord God," Blaine said. Sinclair's image faded from the screens. Other screens faded. Suddenly the bridge was dead. Rod tried alternate circuits. Nothing.

"Computer inactivated," Crawford reported. "I get nothing at all."

"Try the direct wire, Get me Cargill," Rod told his talker.

"I have him, Captain."

"Jack, what's the situation back there?"

"Bad, Skipper. I'm besieged in here, and I don't have communications except for direct wires-not all of them." MacArthur lurched again as something happened aft. "Captain!" Cargill reported excitedly. "Lieutenant Piper reports the Brownies are fighting each other in the main crew kitchen! Real pitched battle!"

"Jesus, Number One, how many of those monsters do we have aboard?"

"Skipper, I don't know! Hundreds, maybe. They must have hollowed out every gun on the ship, and they've spread to everywhere else too. They're-" Cargill's voice cut off.

"Jack!" Rod shouted. "Talker, have we got an alternate line to the First Lieutenant?"

Before the Quartermaster's Mate could answer, Cargill came on the line again. "Close one, Skipper. Two armed miniatures came out of the auxiliary fire-control computer. We killed 'em."

Blaine thought furiously. He was losing all his command circuits, and he didn't know how many men he had left. The computer was bewitched. Even if they did regain possession of MacArthur there was a good chance she couldn't be made spaceworthy again. "You still on, Number One?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'm going down to the air lock to talk to the Admiral. If I don't call you in fifteen minutes, abandon ship. Fifteen minutes, Jack. Mark."

"Aye aye, sir."

"And you can start rounding up the crew now. Port side only, Jack-that is, if she stays oriented where she is. The lock officers have orders to close the holes in the Field if she shifts."

Rod motioned to his bridge crew and began working his way toward the air locks. The corridors were in confusion. Yellow clouds filled several-ciphogene. He'd had hopes for ending the Motie threat with gas, but it hadn't worked and he didn't know why.

The Marines had ripped out a number of bulkheads and barricaded themselves behind the debris. They poised watchfully, weapons ready.

"Civilians out?" Rod asked the officer in charge of the lock.

"Yes, sir. Far as we know. Skipper, I had the men make one sweep through that territory, but I don't like to risk another. The Brownies are thick in civilian country-like they were living there or something."

"Maybe they were, Piper," Blaine said. He moved to the air lock and oriented his suit toward Lenin. The communication laser winked on, and he hung in space, holding himself steady to keep the security circuit open.

"Your situation?" Kutuzov demanded. Reluctantly, knowing what it would mean, Rod told him.

"Recommended action?" the Admiral snapped.

"MacArthur may never sail again, sir. I think I'll have to abandon her and scuttle as soon as I've made a sweep to rescue any trapped crewmen.

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