Footfall

“Yeah, I know,” Gillespie said. “I thought of telling him what we’re doing. Maybe that would get him working.”

“Why not?” Je

“No. No telling what those people will do if they know what’s going to power this beast.” Gillespie shook his head. “The only safe place for miles around will be in the ship. Everything else will go. Somebody may think it’s better that the snouts drop rock on the harbor than have fifty atom bombs go off here.”

“It’s hard to believe anyone would deliberately inform,” Je

“We thought about that a lot,” Gillespie said. “How do you like a prison?”

“Prison?”

“Secret, for political prisoners. Explains why there are so many soldiers. If anybody gets too suspicious, we let them think we’ve got political prisoners from Kansas. Collaborators we couldn keep in Kansas because they’d be torn apart by mobs. Deserters.”

“It might work,” Jack said. “And if they don’t believe that what do you fall back on?”

“That’s as far as we’ve—”

“Nested cover stories. Like an onion.” Jack began drawing concentric circles on a notepad. “Penetrate one and you come to the next, and you still don’t have the real secret. So what’s the next one?”

“Bathyscape?” Gillespie asked. “Underwater research facility under construction?”

“No. Why keep that a secret? Hell, we’ll come up with something. Let’s keep talking.”

Je

They drank.

“Snouts,” Je

“Eh?”

“Captives. A big research facility, to study captive snouts. The aliens wouldn’t bomb that, but we’d have good reason to keep it secret from our people.”

“That’ll work.”

“In fact, that’s why we house the collaborators here, to talk to the snouts!”

Clybourne smiled. “So. Who do we have who can design prisons?”

“We have the skeleton of a good story. Now we put flesh on it. What would you import? Whatever it is, we have to bring it in and show it. We’re supposed to be growing food. Ships would take food out. We’ll bring them in full and send them out empty.” Next to GREENHOUSE he wrote FOOD and an inward-pointing arrow. Next to COLLABORATORS he wrote JAIL, JAILERS. Within the second circle, SNOUTS. GET SNOUTS. “We’ve got snout prisoners, but they’re crazy. They go where they’re pushed. They don’t talk even to each other. But we can show them to people.” Je

“It all sounds wonderful, but aren’t you forgetting something?” Rohrs asked. “Sheriff Lafferty isn’t going to help you do any of this.”

“We do it ourselves.”

“Yeah.” Rohrs scratched his head. “But, Mr. Clybourne—”

“Jack.”

“Jack, I don’t have anybody to spare.”

Jack chuckled. “Now, how did I guess that? It’s okay. First thing, we get some Army troops in here.”

“Intelligence types,” Rohrs said. “Sure.”

“MPs, too. Construction engineers to build prisons. And combat troops, just in case,” Jack said. “The next time we talk to Sheriff Lafferty, I want him to know he’s talking uphill.”

“Did I just hear something tear?” General Gillespie asked. “It sounded like the Constitution.”

Je

“No.” Jack Clybourne was positive. “What you hear is the sound of Bellingham being put outside the boundaries of the United States.” He opened his brief case and removed a document. “I hold here a presidential order suspending the rules of habeas corpus in the Bellingham area. It’s quite constitutional. I play by the rules, General.”

“Yeah, but when word of that gets out …”

“It won’t. The first thing we do when the troops get here is seal off Bellingham. No one leaves.”

“What about people from the highway?”

“There isn’t much traffic now,” Rohrs said.

“You can’t see the harbor area from the highway,” Jack said. “The big hill with the university on it is in the way. So we leave service stations alongside the highway, and all’s well for people who go to them, but anybody who goes further into town, to the other side of the hill — they don’t leave, that’s all.”

“But what about—”

There was a knock at the door. Rohrs shouted, but no one heard. He went to the door. A flood of sound washed into the room. The workman at the door shouted. “Max, turn on the radio. There’s something important—”

“Okay. Thanks!” Rohrs closed the door and the hammers and rivet guns became tolerable again.

“What station?” Clybourne asked.

“There’s only one.” Rohrs went to the radio that perched above a file cabinet.

A voice boomed out. It sounded familiar, like a professional orator.

“They will take the surrender of all humans — and they will incorporate them into their herd. Those of their race who surrender become the property of the herd. Eventually they or their descendants may find status therein …”

“Son of a bitch!” General Gillespie said. “That’s Wes Dawson!”

They all stood when the President came in. He gestured impatiently for them to be seated. Reynolds stood with the rest of them. With its haphazard furniture and refreshments the room looked like the Green Room at an underfunded science-fiction convention, but it felt weirdly like the White House. Most of the Dreamer Fithp were present. Harpanet was not.

“Commander, I understand that you have a tape?”

The naval officer looked young for his rank. “Yes, Mr. President. It’s just as we received it. We’ve put it through filters to clean out the noise, but nothing else.”

“Play it, then.”

“Yes, sir.” The navy commander gestured.

There was a short hissing sound, and then a voice from outer space.

“My fellow Americans, I’m Wesley Dawson, formerly a congressman from California. I’m now a member of the Chtaptisl Fithp — which is to say the Traveler Herd. I am alive and well and I send my regards to my family. We have been well treated by their standards.”

By their standards. The words stood out; Dawson must have intended them to.

“The human fithp aboard Message Bearer have been brought together. There are three Russians. Commander Rogachev, Lieutenant Colonel Dmitri Grushin, and Commander Rogachev’s sergeant. There are six Americans in addition to me. Mrs. Geraldine Wilson and her daughter Melissa. Gary Capehart, aged nine. John and Carrie Woodward of Lawton, Kansas; and Alice McLe

“The fithp complain that their warriors have not been well treated, and that many were killed as they attempted to surrender. The fithp regard this as barbaric.” Dawson’s voice registered bitter amusement.

“The surrender gesture is easily seen. They lie on their backs, rendering themselves helpless. This gesture is deeply embedded into their psychology. One might say it is deep within their very souls. They do not surrender lightly, and when they do, the submission is total. You may believe this. It is true.

“Their leader or Admiral-the word translates to herdmaster as closely as anything else-has asked me to speak to you in order to save slaughter. He says that he can deliver many asteroids, and drop them precisely where he wishes. They do not need to go to the asteroid belt. They can use lunar rocks. Their command of space is complete and they have begun construction of a lunar base.