Larry Niven - Footfall

Tashayamp shrieked. Her first impulse wasn’t to crush Arvid Rogachev; it was to tether herself. Her hampered digits wrapped around the edge of the hatch. Dmitri leapt from below. He crashed into her like a fullback. Then Arvid and Dmitri were pulling her trunk in two directions, pulling her through the hatch. And the hatch was still open.

Tashayamp recovered. Arvid found himself flying. He curled himself into a ball; struck padding; struck again with less force; uncoiled and leapt again. The others had got the idea. Mrs. Woodward and the children huddled in a corner. Jeri, Dmitri, Nikolai looked to be tangled in Tashayamp’s digits. Arvid snatched at her harness as he passed, climbed around onto her back. He found the buckle and loosed the harness.

Straps and a pack. Arvid opened the pack and swung. The contents flew wide. Tashayamp was screaming, thrashing, drifting much too near a wall. If she could anchor her feet in the padding

He swung around her belly, caught the wall with his feet, and kicked away, toward the middle of the cell.

The fi’ seemed to be tiring. Arvid joined the others at her head. “Push them in here,” he shouted, and grasped a digit that writhed like a fire hose…

Five minutes later, a furious fi’ female glared at them over the edge of a bag. Straps were tight around her ears. Dmitri moored other straps behind her forelegs and tightened them. He cast loose and studied the situation thoughtfully. “Is there a reason to betray our true motives now?”

“Thuktun Flishithy is under attack,” Arvid replied. He heard Jeri gasp.

“Right on!” Alice shouted.

“By whom?”

“American. One carrier with missiles and smaller spacecraft. Our last chance, Dmitri. The fithp cannot follow us into the ducts. We fight there!”

“I see. Agreed.” Dmitri spoke rapidly in Russian.

“No,” Arvid said.

“No, what?” Jeri demanded.

“It is State Security!” Dmitri shouted in Russian.

“He wishes to kill this fi’,” Arvid said.

Jeri said, “Hey!”

Mrs. Woodward said, “You wouldn’t.”

“Do you think those straps will hold her helpless?” Dmitri shouted. “And so do I, but what do we know? Kill her. Think of India and kill her.”

“Over my dead body,” Jeri said. She moved closer to Tashayamp.

Dmitri shouted in Russian.

Arvid replied. “I will think with what organs I choose. I grant you command, but not in this. Think, Dmitri. Thuktun Flishithy is under attack.”

“By the time they find the Teacher’s mate, we will be beyond their reach. There is no need whatever to kill her.”

“You let women think for you.”

“He doesn’t need women to tell him what’s right,” Carrie Woodward said.

“I like Tashayamp!” Alice said emphatically.

Dmitri looked about him. Arvid, Alice, Jen, and Mrs. Woodward were between him and the fi’ … who had stopped thrashing because of an understandable interest in the topic of conversation.

“Arvid, you may regret this, but it is done. Now let us be gone! Mrs. Woodward, take the children to the Garden. It is never locked, and you should be safe there, if anyone is safe anywhere. Nikolai, Arvid… with me. Jeri? Alice?”

“Both of you to the Garden,” Arvid ordered.

“Wes! What about him?” Alice cried.

Dmitri snorted contempt. “Have you any idea where he is? Forget Congressman Dawson. He is untrustworthy, he has proved it again and again.”

Alice shrugged angrily. “I don’t like you very much.”

“Imagine my concern. You are unreliable. Go to the Garden with the others.”

“Damn right.”

“I’m coming with you,” Jeri told Arvid.

“Mother—”

“You go with Carrie. Arvid!”

Arvid studied her face, and nodded.

“Do as Carrie says,” Jeri said. She slapped Melissa on the rump. “Now get moving.”

They set Tashayamp spinning in the middle of the cell and left her that way. They set off forward along the corridor. The first grill they passed, Arvid unscrewed the wing nuts and led half the party inside. The rest continued.

Four digit ships were coming near. They were half a thousand miles away, not close enough to use missiles, but close enough to show as brilliant, wavering green suns. That laser light must be boiling away Michael’s hull. Refrigerators chugged, pumping unwanted heat into Michael’s heat sink: the water tanks that had been two huge icebergs at takeoff.

The bombs were still going, WHAM WHAM WHAM, the spurt bombs were still raining into the blast, but Gillespie was on the radio link. “Shuttle One, I’m cutting you loose. Gunships one through six, I’m cutting you loose. See if you can damage some bandits for me.”

WHAM

WHAM

WHAM

quiet

Vibrating through the hull came chunkchunk sounds: mooring prongs releasing their passengers. Flames lit and pulled away. The exhausts of the gunboats were bright and yellow: solid fuel rockets. The single Shuttle flame showed faint and blue: oxygen and hydrogen. They swept away to do battle. Watch for bandits. Watch for damage. Watch temperature gauges. Listen, watch, and hang on. Constant chatter in the intercomm. “Too many digit ships,” Gillespie said. “If I can kill a few, I can outrun the rest. Jason?”

“Targets acquired. Fire when ready.”

“Acceleration. Stand by.”

“Get on the horn and tell the fly-boys to leave that nearest ship to me. Get ’em away from it. Fire.”

WHAM

“Bandits, eight o’clock high.”

“We’re getting an overheat amidships starboard.”

WHAM

“Request salvo—”

“Time problems.”

“I need it.”

“Roger. Say when.”

“Stand by. Targets acquired. Ready.”

The bomb placement cannon chugged almost inaudibly. “Acceleration. Stand by.”

WHAM

“Bandit, eleven o’clock low.”

WHAM

Harry’s teeth were clenched. The temperature starboard amidships was falling again. No major hits on Michael. A gunship flared brilliant green, held, died…

“Stovepipe Five; this is Big Daddy.”

“Big Daddy, this is Stovepipe Four, scratch Stovepipe Five. I say again, scratch Five.”

“Bandit, eight o’clock low.”

“Big Daddy, this is Stovepipe Three, I’ll take the new target.”

WHAM

“Request salvo.”

“Roger. Acceleration. Stand by.”

WHAM

WHAM

Three digit ships showed behind them as brilliant green suns.

“Temperature rising, ventral aft four.”

“Steam forming, ventral aft six.”

WHAM

“Big Daddy, this is Stovepipe Three, scratch one bogey.”

Two brilliant suns aft.

“Big Daddy, this is Stovepipe Four, scratch Stovepipe Three.”

WHAM

WHAM

Temperatures fell toward normal. Two lights showed aft. The gunships were invisible, beyond the battle now, living or dead.

“Short break,” Gillespie said. “They’re trying to clump. They want to hit us in clusters. We won’t reach the next cluster for couple of hours.”

Thank God! Harry eagerly reached up to open his faceplate.

“Sounds like a good time for an inspection tour,” Max Rohrs said. “Get used to moving around in free-fall.”

“Hey, give us a break,” Harry said.

“I’ll suggest it to the snouts.” Harry fastened the faceplate again.

The ducts were roomy enough. They were square in cross section so that patch plates could be all the same size. What had been ladders, padded rungs welded into the sides, had been left for handholds.