Larry Niven - Footfall

“Footfall, yes.” Keep to specifics. “Must the Foot fall? BreakerOne?”

Raztupisp-minz said, “They must be made to know that they are hurt.” Takpusseh stirred but kept silent.

“Hurt? In America they will starve! They have seared their crops with radioactive fire!” The Herdmaster took firm hold of his emotions. The air was heady with pheromones, and seven spaceborn males were ready to butt heads “Attackmaster? The Foot?”

Koothfektil-rusp’s answer was predictable. “Stomp them. Show our might. We have chosen the location, Herdmaster. This time we attack a weaker herd. We must secure a foothold on Winterhome, and expand from there. Weather following Footfall will make retaliation difficult. Fate gifts us with a side effect: the weather worldwide will be wetter and mole to our liking.”

“Show me.”

Koothfektil-rusp lit the wall screen. Under his direction a globe of Winterhome rolled, and stopped. The Attackmaster’s digit indicated the body of water that Rogachev called the Indian Ocean. “Here, in the center. Look how the waves expand from the impact point. East, they roll many makasrupkithp to the island nations. North, even further. Westward, they cover the lowlands where we see city lights; the highlands are left free. Northwest, fuel sources that serve worldwide industry are drowned. These herds that cooperated against us may still not cooperate with the savage herds of the Southern Hemisphere, and wild air masses make transport impossible to them, and where would they send their forces? We might land east or west or north; the rolling sea subdues the prey in all directions. My sleeper aides tell me that the Foot has the mass and velocity to do the work we want.”

They would drown, by eight to the eighths. The Herdmaster mourned in advance. “Have you chosen our foothold?’

“Here, I think. We would find not only mines but possible allies. One problem, Herdmaster: launching facilities will be a problem, here or anywhere. We must build in continual rain. Perhaps we must launch through rain, requiring more laser power, making a launch more conspicuous…

The Herdinaster felt himself relaxing. He knew military strategy. This was easier than talking about the craziness of the prey, which made his mind hurt.

Advisor Fathisteh-tulk vented a fluttering snort. “Possible allies?” His digits swiped at thin air: We can’t know that.

The Attackmaster snapped back. “They have little transportation! We will find true herds. When they surrender—”

The Herdmaster was tired. “Enough. Do it your way, Attackmaster. I’ve heard no better suggestion. Breakers, keep me aware. We must understand the prey; we must teach them our way. To your duties.”

He waited while the rest scattered. Then, “Fathisteh-tulk, you know planet dwellers better than we.” Have we erred? Could we win withozu the Foot? A Herdmaster could not ask.

The Advisor repeated what Breaker-One had said. “They must know that they have been hurt. Whether that will be enough… Herdmaster, can you spare me now?”

“Go, Fathisteh-Wlk. Your mate nears her term.”

The Soviets moved in a series of horizontal leaps, launching themselves down the corridor in long trajectories. The gravity was very weak, so weak that it took many seconds to fall from the center of a corridor to its wall. Nikolai found the conditions perfect. He had no trouble keeping up with the others even though they used their legs for propulsion and he had to launch himself with arms alone.

Sometimes he turned flips as he traveled through the corridor.

“They keep Dawson in his cell,” Dmitri said. “For five days they have done this. Why?”

Arvid shrugged. “It did not seem to me that he caused them any special trouble. Perhaps Takpusseh bears a grudge.”

“I think not.” Dmitri cursed fluently. “Dawson is a fool, and may get us all killed.”

“We could strangle him,” Arvid said.

Dmitri looked thoughtful for a moment. “No. We do not know how our captors will react. Docile, Comrade. We will continue to be cooperative. If they wish more geography lessons, you will give them. They learn nothing they have not obtained from children’s books from the United States. They wish us to join their herd. We will do so.”

They reached the entry point. Nikolai removed the grill and climbed into the air duct. Dmitri and Arvid followed.

When they had first been given the assignment, Arvid was sure that the ducts would be too small for fithp. In an emergency a young fi’ might be sent in to make repairs; but there were not even handholds for such a case. Yet, would prisoners be let loose where they could not even be monitored? Surely there would be cameras.

He had thought the cameras would be hard to identify, but they were not. Nikolai located a brush-rinined ring of just the right

size to fill a duct. It was in a recess, not moving. There were glass eyes at opposite points, and a metal tentacle coiled around the inner surface. — A cleaning robot. During the next few days they looked for others. Occasionally one would be seen far down a tube. It was comforting to know that they were watched-and how.

“Show your stamina,” Takpusseh had said. Dawson wouldn’t have the wit to hide his capabilities if they permitted him out of his cell. They had not seen him for days. Dmitri and Arvid and Nikolai stopped when they were tired, but before they were exhausted, four days in a row. Today was the fifth day, and it was time-to move.

A ring-shaped duct cleaner was far behind them, rolling on ball bearings in the outer rim. Arvid and Dmitri moved side by side, close together. They had become good at that. Nikolai was ahead of them, Perhaps the cameras would not see him. Perhaps he would be seen but not observed: in the waving of alien limbs, three humans might well seem to be two. If another duct cleaner appeared ahead, Dmitri would say, casually, “Another time.”

None did.

Nikolai spotted a side duct ahead. He speeded up. Taking his cue, Arvid and Dmitri speeded up too. The curve of the corridor had left the duct cleaner behind when Nikolai disappeared, axisbound.

Arvid stopped to clean out a dust-catch. The robot had him in view when he caught up to Dmitri.

The Rabbit topped a final rise. Pikes Peak had been visible ahead for hours; now they could see its base. The city of Colorado Springs lay spread out in the valley below them.

“We’re here,” Roger said.

“Now what?” Carol asked. “Are you sure Nat is here? Will he want to see me?”

“Yes, and I don’t know,” Roger said.

“What will we do?” Rosalee asked.

With a possessive tone. Why is it that women get that tone when they’ve been sleeping with you? And that men respond to it? But I’m glad I met her. “There are bound to be newspapers. The Washington Post still exists. It might even have a Colorado Springs headquarters. I’ll be welcome there. So will you, if I bring you in.”

“I can type,” Rosalee said. “And maybe I can help in other ways.”

She probably can. Librarians read a lot. She’s sman. Not very pretty, but there’s something about her — “Sure. We’ll work together. Reporters need research assistants.”

“Where will Nat Reynolds be?” Carol asked. “I want to see him.”

He’ll be Inside, and I’ve told you that a dozen times, so why the hell are you asking me again? “We’ll see.” He started the car down toward the city center.

“It’s all so damned-different,” Carol said.

“Yeah. That’s for sure,” Rosalee agreed. “Maybe it will always be different.”