Larry Niven - Footfall

The scene had shifted. Here was the same female and a different male, both covered. Not for long. Raztupisp-minz said, “I don’t see how children could be born of this. Yet they seem to think they’re mating… Ah, that seems more likely. Could we be viewing an instnction tape? Might humans need instruction on how to mate?”

“A ridiculous suggestion,” the priest scoffed. “What animal does not know how to mate?”

“Entertainment,” Siplisteph said. “So I was told by one who surrendered.”

“You are certain?” Breaker-one asked.

“No. I know too little of their language.”

Fistarteh-thuktun continued to stare at the screen. “I… I think there can be no good reason for such an entertainment.”

The Herdmaster moved forward to join Siplisteph, It was irritating that his Advisor must here perform two functions at once. “You have been to Winterhome. You have seen thousands of humans, more than any of us. Have you formed opinions?”

“None. Nowhere in these tapes do humans act as I have seen them act. I wonder if they act the part of something other than humans. Not Predecessors, but… there are words, god and archetype.”

“They could hardly pretend to be ready to mate. Show me the first one again,” the Herdmaster said. And presently he asked, “Did we just witness a killing? Show that segment again.”

Siplisteph did. An arm swung; the man in the strange chair mimed agony; the chair tilted and the man fell backward through the floor. “They never die so calmly,” the new Advisor said. “They fight until they cannot.”

“The neck is very vulnerable,” Raztupisp-minz objected. “A nerve trunk could be cut — but the fat one would then be a rogue. Why does the female associate with him? Could a pair of rogues form their own herd?”

“You are quiet, Fistarteh-thuktun. What do you believe of this?”

The priest splayed his digits wide. “Herdmaster, I learn. Later I will speak.”

“You do not seem pleased”

There was no answer.

“A place of puzzles,” Pastempeh-keph said. “They surrender and have not surrendered. Their tapes show rogues acting in collusion. They live neither in herds nor alone. What are they?”

“What do they believe themselves to be?” Fistarteh-thuktun asked. “Perhaps that is more important.”

“An interesting question,” Raztupisp-minz said quietly.

Pastempeh-keph bellowed, “1 want answers! I have enough interesting questions to keep me busy, thank you very much. Razwpisp-minz, bring them all. All humans, here, now.”

“Herdmaster, is this wise? Bring just one. I want to keep them separate as we study—”

“Bring them!”

“At your orders, Herdmaster.”

Raztupisp-minz waited. This is the moment, if there is to be any challenge.

There was none. Raztupisp-minz turned to the communications speaker on one wall.

Gary and Melissa were bounding around the cell in an elaborate game of tag. The rules weren’t apparent, but it was obvious that the game couldn’t have been played in normal gravity.

Jeri Wilson lay against the “down” wall and hugged her knees. She was wishing that the children would stop, and glad that they didn’t. They were all right. Prisoners of monsters, far from home, falling endlessly: they were taking it well.

Stop feeling so damned sorry for yourself! Hell, if Gary can take it, you sure can. Next you’ll be whimpering. Jeri turned her head within her arms. No. We don’t want Melissa to hear that.

John Woodward lay near by. He’s trying, but it’s like he’s fading out. Carrie’s all that keeps him going.

It’s the toilets. I could stand anything, if they’d just give us a decent toilet. We’re not built to use a stupid pool of water, with everyone watching.

She heard the low-pitched hum that signaled the door was opening. By the time it was open, the tag game was over; by tacit agreement they were all together opposite the doorway.

Jeri recognized Tashayamp. Behind her was a full octuple of warriors, all armed. They don’t bring guards unless they’re taking us somewhere, Jeri thought. But they don’t always bring them then, either. We’ve gone places with no one but Tashayamp or one of the other teachers. So why do they sometimes have armed guards? It’s like Melissa’s tag game. There are rules. I just don’t know them.

“All come,” Tashayamp directed in the fithp tongue.

“Where?” Wes Dawson demanded.

“Come.” Tashayamp turned to lead the way out. “Right,” Jeri said. She uncurled, and dove across the pens. “Come on, Melissa.”

The others followed, with Dawson bringing up the rear. Tashayamp led them through corridors toward We center of the ship.

They entered a large, nearly rectangular room, with huge steps around three sides. Machinery had been set up near the fourth wall. Four fithp watched them without comment.

Tashayamp followed them in. The eight fithp soldiers stayed in the corridor. Dawson moved up beside Jeri and said, “Theater. We’ve been here.”

“No seats,” Jeri said, then laughed at a mental picture of a fi’ collapsing a beach chair. “Of course, no seats. What’s… ah. That videotape machine must have come from Kansas.”

“The one in the fancy harness, he’s a priest or librarian or both. The one at the top of the stairs is the big boss. They call him the Herdmaster, something like that.” Dawson imitated the flthp sound. “The other two are teachers. At least I call them that, they’re supposed to teach us, but they don’t always, so I’m not sure. Every, time I think I understand them, something else happens, and—”

The door opened again, to let in three men in coveralls. One had no legs, but it didn’t seem to bother him.

Russians. That stocky one was on TV before the snouts came. I thought he was handsome — “Arvid Rogachev, Dmitri something or another, and the one with no legs is Nikolai. I never heard them call him anything else,” Dawson said.

Rogachev. He looks even better in person. Wes Dawson is a bit of a wimp compared to him.

And what does that mean? Am I looking for a big strong man to take care of me?

Would that be such a bad idea?

“You will watch,” Tashayamp said. She bellowed something infithpl

The scree’n lit up. Jeri caught a glimpse of the lead-in.

“What is this?” Jeri asked.

Carrie Woodward had a puzzled look. “John, didn’t we hear something about that movie?”

The Russian Dawson had called Dmitri frowned. The other one seemed amused. “For this they have taken casualties?”

The screen raced past the titles to the sex scenes. Then it slowed to show Linda Lovelace doing her stuff in living color.

Carrie Wood ward watched just long enough to be sure of what she was seeing. “Gary! Melissa! Come here. You’re not to watch this. Come—”

Gary Capehart went to her at once. Melissa looked doubtful. “You come here, young lady. Now.” Carrie was insistent. Melissa looked to her mother for guidance.

O Lord. Now what? “Melissa, do as she says.”

“Aw, Mom—”

“Now.”

Carrie gathered the children to her ample bosom. “How dare you’?” she shouted. “Don’t you critters have any sense of decency at all? No shame?’

The Herdmaster trumpeted something. Tashayamp replied.

Now what kind of trouble has she got us into?

“What is your difficulty?” Tashayamp demanded. “Why have you done this?’

“You know perfectly well it’s not decent to show pictures like that.”

“Mrs. Woodward,” Dawson said. “They don’t think the way we do—”

“And of course you’ve seen worse,” Carrie said. She faced away from the screens, away from the Herdmaster. That left her facing the Russians. “I leave it to you, is this decent for children?” she demanded of them.