Larry Niven - Footfall

General Gillespie rose from his seat at one of the wooden desks. “Are we really done, Max?”

“Well … Ed, we both know this ship won’t ever be finished, we’ll be making changes right up to launch time, but yeah, we’re done. You can tell the President that as of tomorrow noon we can launch on twenty-four hours notice.”

Harry retrieved champagne from a small portable refrigerator. It would have to go, along with the desks and tables and file cabinets. It was good champagne, Mum’s. There were a dozen crystal glasses in the refrigerator too. “How many glasses, General?” Harry asked.

“Three just now,” Gillespie said.

Harry worried the cork out and let it fly to the ceiling. He poured and handed glasses out, then lifted one. “A willing foe, and sea room.”

Gillespie made a face. “I’d as soon the snouts weren’t willing at all. I just want to win.”

Max Rohrs said, “Ed, we’ve just worked a miracle.” He went over to the calendar and drew a ring around the date. “A real live one hundred percent miracle.” He lifted his glass. “So God bless us, there’s none like us. You too, Harry. You were a damn big help.”

“Thanks.”

Gillespie poured Harry’s glass full again. “Lot to do yet,” Gillespie said. “First, we have to bring in the ferryboats. Tomorrow morning we’ll send all the dependents, and everybody but the launch and flight crews, over to Port Angeles.”

Harry dropped into one of the command chairs, dodging TV screens. “What about the rest of Bellingham?”

“We wait on that one.”

“Yeah, if the snouts see there’s nobody here … going to be tough, though. What do we do?”

“We don’t do anything,” Gillespie said. “We’ll give the sheriff as much notice as we can. You don’t need to worry, Harry. We’ve got speedboats for the last-minute crew.”

“Sure — how far away would you have to be?”

“A couple of miles if you have shelter. At Hiroshima the damage at five miles wasn’t too bad. Of course we’re setting off a lot more than one bomb.” Gillespie drained his glass.

“Of course the safest place is in the ship,” Max Rohrs said.

“That’ll be all military people—”

“Well, but some will be more military than others,” Rohrs said. “I’m going.”

“You?” Harry almost laughed.

Max didn’t laugh. “Yes. Chief Warrant Officer Maximilian Rohrs, Damage Control Officer, at your service. Who else knows as much about the way this ship is put together?”

“Well, Harry does,” Ed Gillespie said.

“Hey, wait a minute!”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Rohrs came over and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Don’t I remember you doing some entertaining in the Chuckanut? Something about it wasn’t your regular line of work, your regular work was hero?”

“Something like that,” Gillespie agreed. “So. Want to take up your regular occupation again?”

Harry tried to stand up, but Rohrs’ heavy hand was on his shoulder. “Now hear this. I am not an astronaut.”

“Neither am I,” Max Rohrs said.

“I didn’t tell you to go! And, Max, you and the General designed this ship. If—”

“Have some more champagne, Harry.”

“A pleasure. Look, I’ve met most of the crew. You’re not really filling it out at the last second, are you?”

“No. I thought this over fairly carefully,” General Gillespie said. “What is it that those kids don’t know? That stuff shouldn’t be allowed to get warm, Harry.”

Harry drank. Gillespie said, “They know the ship. They know what’s most likely to happen to it. They’re dedicated. They know how to be tired and hurting and still keep going because we taught them that, pretty much the same way I was taught. But, Harry, it was us making them hurt, and they knew we could make it.

“Harry, you had a back problem. You got yourself a book of back exercises, and you used it while you crossed the country on a motorcycle, and got beat up on by the fithp, and lost two women and you still kept going, and all to keep a promise. And you hadn’t even promised to do that! I want my dedicated astronauts and want you too. I don’t know who’ll fall apart up there.”

“And what is it I want?” Harry inquired politely.

The General half closed his eyes. He seemed in no hurry to answer. Rohrs finished his glass and poured again. He was watching the screens.

The screens hadn’t changed in several minutes. One, from a camera on the dome wall, showed Michael in full. Two great towers stood on the curve of the hemispherical shell, with cannon showing beneath the lip, aimed inward. Four smaller towers flanked them. A brick-shaped structure rose above them. The Brick was much less massive than the Shell, but its sides were covered with spacecraft: tiny gunships, and four Shuttles with tanks but no boosters. The Brick’s massive roof ran beyond the flanks to shield the Shuttles and gunships.

Rohrs said, “The biggest spaceship ever built by Man. Done by God.”

“And I’m done too,” Harry said.

—

Gillespie said, “If we win this. If. We’ll kill a lot of snouts and the rest will surrender. Thousands of snouts, all trying to join what our Threat Team has started calling the Climbing Fithp. Thousands of snouts — sane snouts, mostly — all learning to be human. Who will want to learn the name of the man who first captured a snout?”

“Pour me some more of that,” said Harry.

Jenny winked at Jack, then went into the balcony office. The Situation Room down below was crowded. Every console held a group, all the regular duty-crew plus most of the Threat Team, and anyone else who could think of a good reason to be there.

“Come in, Colonel,” Admiral Carrell said. “Your station is here.” He indicated a table facing the big screens beyond the glass wall. The table held a small switchboard and computer terminal. Jenny put on the headset with its microphone and single headphone, and pushed buttons.

“Operations, Colonel Walters.”

“Control here, communications test.”

“Roger. I read you five by five.” Another button.

“Dreamer Fithp here,” a voice said.

“Control here. Communications test.”

“Fine.”

She pushed other buttons. Finally she nodded to Admiral Carrell. “Communications checked out, sir. The link with Michael has a lot of static.”

“It will probably get worse. All right.” Carrell went to the door. “Mr. Clybourne, please tell the President that everything is ready, and he can join us whenever he likes. Colonel, begin Operation Moby Dick.”

“Yes, sir.” Jenny touched another button. On the floor below a siren wailed and red lights flashed. “Harpoon, this is Gimlet. Let fly!”

They could hear the cheers through the glass wall. Then the Situation Room fell silent. Crews hunched over consoles.

One of the situation screens showed the locations of the Invader Mother Ship and all the digit ships they could locate. The mother ship and sixteen digit ships were in geosync over Africa. They posed no danger yet. The moon was just setting; snout installations there would see nothing. Africa was wrapped in night. For whatever it was worth, the Invaders would start from their sleep to find themselves attacked.

Eight digit ships were in twelve-hour orbits, evenly distributed around the Earth, and three of these passed to east, center, and west of the United States every twelve hours. One would be passing over the South Pole when Michael launched. The others would have to be distracted.