Larry Niven - Footfall

“Was the agreement honored?”

“It was. We are here.”

“Do you know of any other such event?”

“Ffuff. Within a flthp, such adjustments are common. Between fithp, very rare.”

“Okay.” Reynolds raised the phone. “Mr. President?”

They barely heard the knock through the thick soundproof door. Jack Clybourne opened it. Hap Aylesworth, fat, bearded, his hair a mess, came in. “You wanted me, sir?”

“Right with you. Reynolds?”

“We can’t agree. It’s a good bet they’d keep their surrender. There’s even precedent. We don’t like the size of the pot.”

“I don’t either. Thank you.” The President hung up. “Hap, I need advice. Have you been listening?”

“Yes, sir.”

Seconds flowed on the big digital timer. “Six minutes,” Jenny said.

“I thought the Threat Team people would know,” Coffey said. “But they don’t. General. Admiral. You heard. Your advice?”

“The human race won’t be safe until the invaders are disarmed,” General Toland said.

The President jerked a thumb toward the big screens outside. “And if they defeat Michael? They could, you know.”

“Unlikely,” Admiral Carrell said.

“I beg your pardon, Admiral?”

“They’re closing fast. Unless Michael does something stupid, they’re bound to ram. I believe you can depend on General Gillespie to detonate every bomb aboard at closest approach.”

“Your advice, Admiral?”

Admiral Carrell raised an eyebrow at the timer. “I think I would do nothing at all.”

“All their women and children. They came from the stars. They offer an interstellar drive. We lose all that—”

“And keep the Earth,” Carrell said.

“But at what price? Hap?”

“Pass. I know how to win elections. This one’s beyond me.”

“Gimlet, this is Michael. Big Mama’s mad; she’s got all the children in the fight. I mean, she’s really mad.”

One of the screens below flashed, then flashed again.

“They’re really pounding each other,” General Toland said. “Go for it, Gillespie!”

“No,” President Coffey said. “Colonel, get me General Gillespie. Inform him that I have new orders. Then get Wes Dawson. We can end this with honor.”

“Mr. President, please,” General Toland said. “Sir, the risk is just too damned high! Thor, tell him!”

“I’ve heard your advice, General. I don’t need it again. Colonel, if you please.”

Jenny reached for the keys. Her hand moved slowly, reluctantly. Visions of dolls and smashed children came unwanted, and corpses heaped high in a Topeka street, human shapes merging as they decayed. She stood. “No, sir.”

“Colonel!”

“I resign.”

“Admiral Carrel!”

“No, Mr. President.”

Coffey turned to the door. Jack Clybourne stood solidly against it. “Mr. Clybourne — you too?”

Jack said nothing.

“I am the commander in chief! Hap, tell them.”

“I’m not the commander in chief, David.”

“Colonel, will you at least do me the courtesy of calling Mrs. Coffey?”

Jenny looked to Admiral Carrell. He shook his head. “Sir, there wouldn’t be time to explain anything to her.”

“I’ll have you all shot!”

“Possibly,” General Toland said. “Tomorrow. But just now we have about three minutes.”

“Damn you all! Those creatures will blow Michael apart, and then they’ll own the Earth!”

“No, sir,” Admiral Carrell said. “It is you who risks the Earth. We risk only mankind’s enemies.”

Coffey sat and buried his head in his hands. After a moment Admiral Carrell lifted the microphone. “Colonel, get me Mr. Dawson.”

“Sir.”

“Congressman Dawson, this is Admiral Carrell. The President is not available.”

“What?”

“Tell the enemy commander that his offer is rejected.”

Steel plates now covered the windows. The sky was alive with green flares and retina-burn-white explosions. Fithp in pressure suits crawled across the slagged hull, towing equipment. Message Bearer rang like a smashed banjo, and the Herdmaster trumpeted, “How are they doing this? Defensemaster!”

“The wound in Sector Five is turned full away from the intruder, and has been since before you ordered it. Herdmaster, the tiny ships circle and fire into the wound. They are not using rockets, and our lasers cannot find inert projectiles.”

“Then kill me those flying guns! Takpusseh-yamp, was there an answer from the President?” But he knew. Takpusseh-yamp’s digits were rigid across his head. They still strangled the receiver with which he had been monitoring Dawson’s conversation.

“Dawson.”

“Say good-bye, Herdmaster. We’ll find our own path to the stars, and you won’t be there waiting.”

“Could you not persuade?”

“The President’s not available. I know David Coffey. He must be dead or dying. Admiral Carrell is in charge now. The Attackmaster. He wants you extinct, and he wouldn’t listen to me if I pleaded. I’m not even sure he’s wrong.”

“Wes! Did we win?”

“I think so. Hang on, Alice. It’s not likely to be long now.”

The Herdmaster asked, “What would you have of me, Dawson?”

“Two months in solitary confinement, Herdmaster, but I don’t think we’ll have the time.” Dawson’s grip tightened on the wall rung as Message Bearer shuddered sideways. Despite the danger, he was standing fully erect.

“Get me my mate,” the Herdmaster ordered.

Safe Room Two was jammed with females and children. The noise was terrible to hear: comforting adult voices, bleating of terrified infants, the herd is attacked! His mate cried, “Keph, what’s happening? The children are going rogue!”

“Keph, I want to surrender.”

There was an awful silence. Then the last voice Pastempeh-keph wanted to hear was speaking. “You would surrender the Traveler Fithp, you? Fool rogue, my mate would have had us safely circling Saturn if you had not stripped him of his status!”

“I acknowledge this. You in Safe Room Two must speak for the rest. Will the females consent to surrender?”

“Let me speak to the Defensemaster!”

Tantarent-fid clicked on. Pastempeh-keph listened with half his attention. Damage… weapons… intruder closing at five makasrupkithp per breath, targeted dead on, able to turn faster than Message Bearer ever could. If we vaporize the enemy, the globules will condense and kill us. If we kill all aboard, the bomb will explode when it is close. Our only chance of escape is for the enemy to guide that ship away from us.”

“Surrender,” said Chowpeentulk. “Roll on your back for my mate’s murderer.”

“Surrender, Keph. We are agreed.”

The Herdmaster stepped-staggered-into the corridor between crash pads. “Dawson. The ship is yours.”

“I want to see the other humans.”

Screens blurred, then sharpened. Arvid Rogachev and Jeri Wilson stood close together in the midst of carnage and wreckage Dmitri lay in one corner.

“Give them weapons, and escort them here.”

“I obey.”

“Now turn off your drive. Blow up all missiles in flight. Don’t send any more.”

“Agreed. We need your ship alive. Dawson, make haste. Tell your herdmaster. That ship must not strike us.”

“When I hear you give those orders.”

“Tantarent-fid! Destroy our missiles now. Continue to use laser to stop incoming weaponry. Begin damping the drive.”

“Lead me.”

The Herdmaster could not have imagined how those words would hurt. The eyes of his fithp were all around him. Pastempeh-keph rolled on his back in the aisle.

Herdmaster Wes Dawson said, “Alice.”

“Wes — did we really win?”