Motivational Engineers

“Impressive,” Urla said.

Detinla shook her head.

“They have everything we need,” she repeated. “A history of religious fanaticism as strong as anything I’ve ever seen in the textbooks. A history of hierarchical organizations that know how to put a plan together to attack a problem. And the ruthless­ness to create and enforce the rules we need to solve the problem.”

“So why can’t we use religion?”

“Because they have too damned many religions!” Detinla exploded. “Usually I have trouble even finding one with the right specifications that I can work with, and here we’ve got hundreds, with a thousand splinter sects off of those. We’ve got religion on their newstapes. We’ve got religion on their video channels. Hell, we’ve even got religious preachers in the parks.”

“And?”

“And none of them is worth any­thing ” she said disgustedly “We’re too late. The old centralized religions that built the cathedrals and the pagoda cities and the pyramids are all gone, the religions that could focus the en­ergy of an entire society all broken up. All these modern religions worry about is saving souls and doing good deeds and fighting with each other. That’s useless to us.”

“What about the preachers on the media?”

“Money. All they worry about is money,” Detinla said. “No, I’m no good this time. I’ll keep on talking with them to keep up our cover, but either you or one of the other teams will have to pull it off this time. If any­one is going to.”

“You think we’ll fail?” Urla said. She felt a familiar deep depression start again, and the great homesickness wash over her.

“I don’t know,” Detinla said, and shrugged. “We’ve failed before. But we must never give up.”

“I’ve never been the solution be­fore,” Urla said.

“We’ve never met people this strange before.”

“Today is our turn to show prod­ucts,” Urla said.

Sorenson sat across the familiar table from her, the rest of the human negotiating team in their chairs along the wall behind her. Urla was not sure of her ability to read human coloring and facial expression, but it seemed to her that Sorenson seemed more pale today, and the skin around her eyes darker. The eyes themselves were red and bloodshot.

“Do you feel all right?” Urla asked.

“Fine. Just fine. Everything is just fine,” Sorenson said. Her smile was forced and fixed. I'm fine, all right she thought. I might kill for a bottle of aspirin and eight hours of sleep, but I'm fine. She looked across the table at Urla. And damn those bas­tards in biochemistry. After all she drank last night she was supposed to have a hangover today. She looks just fine. And I feel like hell.

Urla looked at Sorenson and al­lowed herself a secret smile. Add hangover cure to the list of trade items, she thought to herself. And I hope you feel as bad as you look. That was supposed to be me, feeling like that, wasn't it? Well, sometimes biters get bit, she thought spitefully.

“Sometimes our young are adverse­ly affected after a religious ceremony,” Urla said smoothly. “When we mature we have no problem with consuming any amount of alcohol. I’m glad to hear you are fine.”

“Yes,” Sorenson crisply. “Now, what do you have to discuss today?”

“Ah, something I thought you might find interesting,” Urla said. She gestured and the drone set a shiny metal cylinder on the conference table, then slid silently back and out of the way.

“And this is…?”

“Something suggested by the speci­fications you provided our biology de­partment,” Urla said. She touched the side of the container and it became transparent.

The cylinder was filled with a clear liquid that filled the container almost to the top. In the center of the liquid, supported by a webwork of semi-translucent strands, was a dark red object, about the size and shape of two clenched fists held together. As Sorenson watched, the object pulsed in and out, first on one side, then on the other.

“It works in a liquid environment? Completely enclosed?” Sorenson asked.

“It works in a liquid environment,” Urla said. She folded her upper pair of arms across her chest. She pushed a plastic sheet covered with specifica­tion numbers across the table to Sorenson. She picked it up, glanced at it, and handed it back to one of the engineers behind her. “If you expose it to air it begins to dry out and be­comes useless.”

“It’s not very strong,” the engineer commented. Urla glared at him.

“It’s not supposed to be very strong,” she snapped. “We met the specifications you gave us. It’s de­signed for endurance and reliability, not power. The pump has no moving parts and will last one hundred years without a failure.”

“Guaranteed?” Sorenson asked.

“Guaranteed,” Urla said.

“How does it work?” Sorenson asked. She peered closely into the cylinder of clear liquid, the pump in­ side.

“It’s an electrically sensitive gel,” Urla explained. “When a current crosses it, the gel shrinks. When the current goes away, it expands.”

“All at once?”

“No, it’s localized. Your specifica tion showed four pumping chambers, each of which contracts and expands separately, but in sequence,” Urla said. “We built this to duplicate that func­tion exactly.”

“The gel is chemically neutral?” Sorenson asked.

“Completely neutral,” Urla said.

“We have to test it,” Sorenson said.

Urla heaved herself upright, tail tucked discretely behind her.

“Of course,” she said. “If everything is satisfactory we’ll sell you all the manufacturing specifications and de­ velopment samples.”

Urla turned and left the room. Sorenson studied the pump in the dis­play cylinder.

“So what do we do with it?” the en­gineer asked. He waved the specifica­tions sheet at her. “We’ve got better and stronger pumps that will last just as long. There’s no way this can be used in an industrial environment.”

Sorenson continued to stare at the pump, fascinated by the slow, steady beat.

“You’re a good engineer, Harry, but you think in black and white, in straight lines.”

“I think like an engineer,” he said.

“Exactly. Which is why I’m in charge of this negotiation,” Sorenson said. “Don’t think pump. Think heart. The fully implantable artificial human heart…”

Excerpt, UN-Tydengh Economic Negotiations report, Dr. Carolyn Sorenson, Chief Negotiator, Blue Box report, General Secretary Eyes Only:

“…Economic opportunities for human business in the interstellar market appear great. Tydengh nego­tiators have purchased large numbers of samples of various Earth products, including ceramics, textiles, process control equipment, and distilled liquors (particularly Scotch). In return we’ve received various high technolo­gy goods, such as a fully implantable artificial human heart…

“…The one item the Tydengh have refused to sell is space drive technology. Intelligence operations have also been unsuccessful…

“Conclusion: Human products have a potentially huge interstellar market. We cannot, however, get our prod­ucts to market except through the Ty­dengh. This limits our commercial op­portunities and the profit potential of the market. Unless and until we devel­op our own space drive.

“Proposal: this office has been con­tacted by representatives of members of the Security Council, as well as Japan, Germany, India and other ma­jor industrialized powers. As per your instructions we have provided them access to our reports to you. The unanimous response has been a de­sire to combine technologies in a space drive