Larry Niven - Footfall

“I suppose you are wondering,” Jenny said. “Admiral Carrell has assembled an intelligence group to advise the National Security Council. You are part of it.”

“Makes sense. Who else knows about aliens?”

She looked at her seating chart. Curtis. She nodded. “The first thing is to explain why you are here, rather than at the Academy with your colleagues and the anthropology professors. You are the Threat Team. The others will assume the aliens are friendly. Our group will examine the possibility that they will be hostile.”

Everyone looked thoughtful. Then a hand was raised. Jenny consulted her chart again. “Yes, Ms Atkinson?”

“Do we have a choice in the assignment?”

“Not now,” Jenny said.

“Too bad.”

“I thought it valuable to have you with us, Sherry,” Anson said. “The rest of us are paranoid. You are not. It seemed reasonable to have one intelligent but trusting person on this team.”

Sherry Atkinson melted back into her seat.

“I’m afraid things will be a bit hectic,” Jenny said. “You will have a series of intensive briefings—”

“There that much to know about the aliens?”

“Actually, Dr. Curtis, there is very little to know about the aliens. However, you are to be briefed on U.S. and USSR strategic weapons systems. One of the possibilities Admiral Carrell intends to examine is that the aliens make alliance with the Soviets. Against us.”

Academician Pavel Bondarev sat at his desk. His large leather chair was swiveled toward the window, with its view of the Black Sea. The weather outside was pleasant. It was pleasant inside the office as well. His secretary sat on his lap. Slowly she unbuttoned her blouse.

This was far better than he had expected! He had more power and prestige than he had ever imagined possible. To add to his joy, Marina and his grandson had vacationed on the shores of the Black Sea and were now on an airplane to Moscow.

It couldn’t last, of course. Soon the aliens would come, and things would change. He could only guess at how they would change.

He may have been the proper man for this task. I know few who could have done it, and of those, two are not reliable…

On his desk lay thick reports from the Soviet military leaders. The largest was the report of the Strategic Rocket Command. Bondarev had always known that the Soviet Union possessed thousands of intercontinental nuclear-tipped missiles; now he knew the location and targeting of every one of them.

He also knew their reliability, which was not high. Despite the full alert, nearly a quarter of the missile force was not in readiness, and the generals did not expect more than two thirds of those remaining to launch on the first attempt.

The reports contained information on which missiles could be retargeted and which could not. Of those, some could be aimed at objects in space, and some could be targeted only toward other points on the Earth, because their warheads could not be detonated until after re-entry. He had turned so that he wouldn’t have to look at those reports. Could he not keep his mind on Lorena for these few precious moments? But his mind ran on. He had a large force that could be used to engage the United States, and a small force that could fight an enemy in outer space if that became necessary. It was not possible to estimate what that force could do because they knew nothing of the onrushing alien spacecraft. What defenses did it have? How thick was its hull, and how close would it come to Earth?

All probably unnecessary. They will not attack. But if they do, I have forces to engage them with. Some forces. I should determine more precisely what I have available.

That would not be easy, because it was no simple task to combine the targeting information with the figures on readiness and reliability. The result would only be a probability. It is well that I am doing this. Few military officers would know how to do the mathematics. Nor would I be able to in time except for-.

He glanced at the table next to his desk. An American IBM home computer stood there. It was an excellent machine, simple to use, and it had come with a number of probability and statistics programs that he had adapted to this purpose.

“You have no need of that machine at this moment,” Lorena said firmly. She took his hand and guided it to her breast.

He had been expecting the telephone, but it startled him anyway. Pavel Bondarev disengaged his hand from within his secretary’s blouse. The ringing phone was on a secure line, permanently attached to a scrambler. He had been told that not even the KGB could listen to calls on that line. Pavel didn’t believe that, but it was well to act as if he did. He lifted the receiver. “Academician Bondarev.”

“Narovchatov. The Voice of America announces that the Americans are aboard”

“I heard. There was no jamming.”

Narovchatov chuckled. “So long as they do our work, why should we interfere? But it is a good sign. They are not upset by our mobilizations.”

“I trust not,” Bondarev said. “I have done much to keep such matters under control

“You are now satisfied with the preparations?’

“I believe so. Grushin reports that all is well aboard the spacecraft. The Strategic Rocket Forces are alerted, the Fleet is at sea, but the Air Force remains grounded and visible to the American satellites. This was not achieved without cost. Colonel General Akhmanov proved uncooperative, and has been replaced by Genera] Tretyak. The transfer of power was accomplished without incident, and Akhmanov has been promoted to the General Inspectorate of the Ministry of Defense.”

“Um. You are becoming accustomed to military authority. Perhaps I should have you appointed a general

“That could do no harm,” Bondarev said. Generals have enormous perquisites Meanwhile, I receive reports from both Grushin and Rogachev, and there are no contradictions. Nikolai Nikolayevich, I believe we have done everything possible.”

“All we know to do. Why, then, do I worry?”

Bondarev grinned mirthlessly. “We have nothing to guide us here. No history and no theory.”

“Da.” There was a pause, as if Narovchatov were thinking. Then the general said, “From tomorrow on, this line will be connected directly to the Chairman. You will use it to keep us informed.”

“Certainly.” It would be an excuse to ask where you and the Chairman will be. “Perhaps Marina and the children could visit you?’

“That has been arranged.”

“Then no more remains to be said.” Bondarev put the telephone down and stared out the window.

“You are frightened,” Lorena said.

“Yes.”

The meeting was called for 0900, but they were still straggling in at a quarter past. Some had hangovers. All had stayed up too late.

Too bad, Jenny thought. They’ll have to get used to military hours. She had a strong urge to giggle. Suppose they didn’t? Maybe they’d make Cheyenne Mountain adapt to the hours science fiction writers kept…

They took their places in the lecture room, but they tended to sit for a moment, then get up and gather in clumps. Most of them talked at once. Working with the science-fiction people was an educational experience. They had no reverence for anything or anyone, except possibly for Mr. Anson, and they argued with him; they just didn’t call him names.