“So our alliance is based on your ability to kill us,” said the alpha.
“Your physical powers are limited,” said Noxon. “And your mental abilities depend on achieving a critical mass larger than the one you currently have.”
The alpha said nothing.
“I know that every mouse except you is a pregnant female. But they are not actually gestating—the embryos are not developing.”
“That thing doesn’t give you X-ray vision,” said the alpha.
“I know their hormones smell like pregnancy, but there are no fetal heartbeats and they haven’t grown since the beginning of the voyage. My guess is that you’ve found a way to enclose a litter of fertilized ova into a sac and keep them from attaching to the uterine wall. So they can be pregnant the moment you decide.”
“Close,” said the alpha.
Noxon thought for a moment. “No, I’m exactly right. But instead of just one sac, each one contains several. And each sac of ova will produce a litter that’s bred for different capabilities. So you can spawn—what, electronics whizzes? Spacetime displacers? Fast-maturing baby-breeders?”
“We’re all fast-maturing baby-breeders,” said the alpha. “But yes, you have the idea.”
“When you were loose in the ship during the voyage here, before the expendable rounded you up, what did you do?”
“We were exploring the possibility of doing a displacement of the ship during the voyage.”
“If you moved the inbound ship out of its one-to-one correspondence with the outbound version of the ship, it would have annihilated us.”
“Unless we displaced the ship so that it didn’t overlap with the original in any way.”
“That would kill all living things aboard the ship,” said Noxon.
“That’s why we were going to try to move the outbound ship.”
Noxon shook his head. “You aren’t stupid,” he said. “That might undo everything.”
“We didn’t actually do it,” said the alpha.
“For smart mice, you’re pretty stupid.”
“Be fair,” said the alpha. “We’re only a couple of dozen. We don’t get really smart until we have a few hundred.”
“And that’s another reason for you to want time to have a lot of babies.”
“It would be nice if you didn’t slice time the whole way to the alien world.”
“I’m not going to let you have any babies until we’ve reached the alien world,” said Noxon. “Until we see what we’re facing.”
“I think you need us to reach maximum intellectual capacity before then.”
“Not until I know what I want you to do,” said Noxon.
“Are you capable of such a decision without our advice?” asked the mouse.
Noxon immediately realized that they were manipulating him. Because the moment the mouse said it, Noxon was filled with anxiety that he knew would not go away until he agreed to let the mice reach the alien world in hundreds instead of two dozen. That anxiety was not rational. It was what the mouse wanted him to feel.
“Interesting,” said Noxon. “You aren’t behaving like a potential ally.”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” said the alpha.
The other mice were echoing him. “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” they bleated.
“Why are they all squeaking?” asked Deborah. “What are they saying?”