Larry Niven - Footfall

“It is not far now,” van der Stel said. “When we reach those trees, you will see their spaceport. The missile can be fired from there.”

“Thank God,” Sergeant Harrison muttered.

Lieutenant Ivan Semeyusov looked disapproval at Harrison. Russian noncoms did not speak to their officers until invited, and good communists would hardly invoke deity. Colonel Carter hid his grin. “Give ’em a ten-minute break, Sarge.”

“Yes sir.” Harrison whistled long and low, knowing that Mvubi’s people would hear. Then he crawled back down the column to pass the word to the Americans and Russians.

Carter hunched in the lee of the best shelter he could find a wished he could smoke his pipe. How good is their sense of smell The wind blew continuously. He looked cautiously around weird landscape. After all these months, there was still the odor of death in the air. What is a black boy from Pruett-Igoe doi way down here? “At least the rain has stopped,” he said.

“It is cold for November,” van der Stel said. “Summer will late.”

If there’s a summer at all, Carter thought. November in South Africa should have roughly the same weather as May in Southern California, warm and dry, not this blustery cold. The Russian officer produced a package of cigarettes. “No,” Carter said.

The Russian officer put the pack away.

“This is a mad scheme,” van der Stel said.

“So? And why are you here?” Lt. Semeyusov asked. His mouth twisted into a deliberate grin.

Learning some manners, anyway, Carter thought.

“It is known that I am mad now,” van der Stôl said. “TI English found that all Afrikaners have the capability. Now v must show the olifants. Tell me, Lieutenant, what brings you far from home to aid me in my madness?”

Semeyusov wasn’t going to touch that one. “You are certain they will launch a large craft today?” the Russian demanded.

“Certain? How can I be certain of anything? Our friends at the spaceport, those who load the craft, say they believe it will be launched today or tonight or tomorrow. I have told you this. You think I deceive you?”

“Naw,” Lieutenant Carruthers said. “None of us think that mynheer. Ivan’s nervous. We all are.”

With good reason. Carter glanced at the sun. “Since we don’t know when they’ll launch, the sooner we’re in position, the better. Let’s get moving.”

“Looks like they’re about to button her up,” Carruthers reported He handed the binoculars back to Carter. “Last-minute loading—”

Julius Carter lay in the grass and turned his binoculars on where had been an airport, eight kilometers away.

The Sunday comics had taught him to call them “rocket ships. This was the first rocket ship he had ever seen. Shuttles didn’t look like this. Its belly was flat. It was the size of a building; made the nearby C-47 cargo transport look like a toy. Take the massive cone off the back and it would look more like an airplane, but not very. Too short, too wide, too little in the way of fins. The only windows were on a canopy the size of a 727 fuselage, and that was underneath the nose. The point of the nose glittered like a lens, but it wouldn’t provide a view. A laser cannon?

Van der Stel had been right, as usual; this was an excellent place to observe the spaceport, high enough to give them a good view, but not conspicuously high.

Carruthers might have been reading too much into what he could see. On the other hand, he might not. In the past hour the snouts had certainly closed two cargo hatches on the big ship. They’d removed the two loading cranes that went with those ports. Most of the other baggage carts had been removed to the other side of the field. “It sure looks like they’re doing something. How’re the Russkis coming?”

“We are coming quite well, Colonel,” a voice said from behind him.

Ooops! “Thank you, Lieutenant. You’ve got your missile set up?”

“Presently.”

“Good. Looks like we have about half an hour.”

“I will encourage the crew to hurry.”

Carter sat in the tall grass and took out his pipe.

“Nice thing about a pipe,” Carruthers said. “Don’t need to light it. Colonel—”

“Spit it out.”

“Will it work? Sir? I mean, they had to carry it a long way, and—”

“Got a better plan?”

“No, sir.”

“It’s worth a try, Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir.”

And no, I didn’t answer your question, son. How could I? He grinned, but to himself, as he remembered a story from one of the innumerable Arab-Israeli wars. An Arab president had cabled to Moscow: “Stop sending surface to air missiles. Send surface to aircraft missiles.”

So far it hasn’t cost us anything but some sweat. So far. When they launched that Russian missile that would all change. They’d have to run for it, scatter, and hope they all made it to the rendezvous points. Carter glanced at his watch, then back to the low railed structure the Soviet troops had bolted together. “Okay, Sergeant. Spread ’em out.”

“Sir.”

There was definite activity at the spaceport. All the auxiliary vehicles had been withdrawn. Now the great hulk of the alien spacecraft sat alone.

An enormous concrete structure opened nearby.

“The laser,” Carter said. “Hit that, and we splatter that ship all over the landscape.” He handed his binoculars to Lieutenant Carruthers and turned to the Soviet officer. “All set?”

“Da.” Semeyusov’s eyes glittered expectantly. “It is a good missile. A good missile.”

“I sure hope so.”—

“Colonel!”

“Yeah, Carruthers?”

“They’ve opened a hangar. Something coming out-coming this way. Shit!”

Carter grabbed the binoculars.

More than a dozen of the fast-moving light ground effect vehicles Carter had come to call “skimmers” moved across the spaceport. When they reached the fence they rose over it, then spread out across the veldt. One was coming directly toward their hill.

Behind the skimmers came eight tanks.

Lieutenant Semeyusov’s voice was emotionless. “Your orders, Comrade Colonel?”

“Wait. Maybe they won’t see us.”

The skimmer came on, past the area where Mvubi’s scouts were hidden.

“Still coming,” Carruthers said. “Colonel, if they didn’t see his people, they won’t see us.”—

“And if they go straight past us, they’ll see the damn missile,” Carter said. They’ll be here in a second. Once past us, they’re sure to see the missile. He thumbed the channel control on his helmet radio. “Sergeant Harrison. If that skimmer comes within fifty meters, take it out.”

“Sir.” Harrison was invisible somewhere off to the left.

Lieutenant Carruthers unlimbered a light antitank tube. “Custer’s last stand.”

“Something like that,” Carter said. “Maybe they won’t come.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Semeyusov spoke quickly into his phone. “They are ready—”

The first skimmer reached the bottom of the hill. Another converged toward it.

Carter lifted the transmitter. “Mvubi. uSuthu!”

“Tchaka!” A moment later automatic weapons chattered from the veldt between Carter and the spaceport. The trailing skimmer

wobbled, then fell.

“Launch your bloody missile,” Carter ordered. “It’s too late to get the spaceship. Try for the laser anyway.”

“With respect, Colonel, perhaps they will launch their ship anyway. It is a better target.”

“Why in hell would they launch during an ambush?”

For answer, Semeyusov pointed. Thick white smoke rose from the base platform around the alien spacecraft.

“Son of a bitch! Okay!”

“Only now we got to stop those tanks,” Carruthers said carefully. “I don’t think Mvubi’s people will hold them long.”