Footfall

35. THE WASHING OF THE SPEARS

An assegai has been thrust into the-belly of the nation. There are not enough tears to mourn the dead.

“We are wi

African night lay below Message Bearer. The dark cloud coy flared with chains of wild power surges. The Herdmaster’s nerv screamed at the sight, but he couldn’t look away. Repair the broken lines, lest the ship die! He waited for the atmospheric electric discharges to end. They came less frequently now. When the fithp had landed in the first weeks after the Foot, they had been near constant.—

The image solidified. “We have captured wonderful machine which make electrical power, and transportation devices, machines that make other machines. We have slaves. The land is wide, and it is ours. We eat the native food—”

“We must learn if poisons are present or nutrients are missing. Ship samples to Message Bearer for chemical analysis.”

“We will, on the next launch. Herdmaster, Chintithpit-mar wishes to return for the mating season. We will miss him sorely but he has surely earned the privilege.”

“Yes, I remember your reports.” Yet Chintithpit-mang is a dissident, of the Year Zero Fillip! What have they found, that the look so far? “Can you truly spare your best warriors? You continue to lose fithp.”

“Yes, Herdmaster. We will always lose warriors until we have culled out the rogues from among these humans. Fistarteh-thuktu was correct. This is a race of rogues, rogues everywhere, they may be more rogues than normals. The acolytes are studying this, to see how it could have come about. Herdmaster, we may have come just in time to save these humans. As if it were meant to be. Herdmaster, we gain a new domain, a wide domain. We stand on high places and we ca

“Your domain grows large and the fithp grow fewer. The warriors sicken of slaughter.”

“It will not always be so. The true humans learn. We kill rogues only. It is the, task of warriors to kill rogues.”

The Herdmaster suppressed an urge to trumpet. “How are you sure there are what you call true humans?”

“I will show you.” The Attackmaster gestured and stepped aside. Two stepped into camera view: Breaker-One Raztupispminz, and a dark human male covered with drab cloth, as the important ones always covered themselves. He stood half out of camera view, for fear of standing too close to the Breaker.

“This one is called Botha. He held high rank in the Afrikaans tribe. He knows little of our speech, but I will give you his words. He is eager to end this war.”

The human spoke at length. His voice went up and down, now a mumble, now a whine. Pastempeh-keph heard it as a plea.

“He speaks strangely,” Tashayamp said.

Pastempeh-keph turned to her. “Is it not English?”

“Yes, Herdmaster, but not as I have learned it.”

The Breaker spoke. “He says that the war destroys, and both humans and flthp lose. He says that he would do what he could to end the fighting and let humans and fithp live together. This he calls peace. He says that now he can do nothing. We took his surrender in a ceremony broadcast to all the humans here, and because they have seen my foot on his chest, many will no longer obey him.”

The Herdmaster trumpeted in rage. “Then why seek leaders at all? Must we take surrender from each? We have not enough feet for every human!”

“No, Herdmaster. We allow them to gather. They have gatherings, much as we do, where the eldest speak for all. Their decisions are binding. These humans do nothing without meeting and talking. We will allow these eldest to meet and take their surrender. They will name this Botha as leader. He will then command the human warriors to keep order and enforce our domain.”

Something had changed in the African fithp-it was visible even in the monitor screens-and the Herdmaster began to see why. “Was this peculiar approach your own idea, Breaker?”

“Herdmaster, the human fithp always want to discuss terms before they surrender. From curiosity I began to discuss ‘conditional surrender’ with small human fithp—”

“Over my objection,” Atackmaster Koothfektil-rusp put in. “I was mistaken. When a human fithp surrenders under agreed terms, the members tend to honor their surrender.”

“Not all, surely.”

“Some fight on, Herdmaster, but those are rogues, known to all to be rogues, in defiance of their own leaders. We kill the rogues. The humans will aid us in this. Then we will have one herd again.”

Colonel Julius Carter tried once more. “I’ve got three wounded men. One of them will die if we move him. Man, I’m only asking for shelter!” The Afrikaners turned us away. I hadn’t expected it, but they did. But this one is English!

The farmer spread his hands helplessly. “I can’t.”

“He-he’s a white soldier. Blanqui! Not black like me.”

Brant Chishoim laughed bitterly. “Do you think that matters now? Great God, man, don’t you think I want to help?”

Carter let his voice grow cold with menace. “If you don’t help us, we’ll kill you and burn your place.”

The farmer nodded wearily. “I expected that. Will you kill my wife and children too? And my neighbors, and their women, and all their children?”

“We’re Americans, not monsters!”

“If the jumbos find you here, they’ll kill us all. Do your worst, Colonel. You’re not as bad as them.”

“Ah, shit,” Carter said. “You know damned well I can’t just shoot you.”

“If you’re going to stay here, it would be better if you did. Shoot me and put my body where the jumbos will find it,” Chisholm said, dropping his voice conspiratorily. “Maybe then they’ll blame you and not everyone here.”

“Shit.” Carter couldn’t keep it up. “We won’t hurt you. But man, we need help. We worked our way up from the coast—”

“Bad down there?”

“It’s bad. It’s worse than you can think. Buzzards everywhere.” Buzzards and bugs and everything dead and smashed. Rotting corpses left by the waves. New corpses too. We brought the guns as far as we could. Now we have to find somebody willing to go get them and use them, and there’s nobody left with guts. “All right, we’ll move out. Can I leave Corporal Allington with you?”

“Yes. Take all his equipment. Take his uniform too. What’s wrong with him?”

“We shot up a Snout patrol, and they called in their lasers. He’s burned over almost half his body.”

“Okay. We’ll take care of him as best we can. If they ask, I’ll say he was burned in a motor accident. They probably won’t. As long as we bring in the crops they pretty well leave us alone.”

“I guess it’s pretty rough for you, too,” Carter said.

“Rough? Yes, you could say that. I’d head for the bush, but what would happen to the wife and kids? Let me tell you, Yank, a man with four small children doesn’t have a lot of choices.”

“Sure.” What would I do?

“Brant! Magtig, commandos—” A tall blond woman rushed into the room. She stopped when she saw Carter. “Magtig! Here, in our house!”

Chisholm spoke briefly in Afrikaans. Despite the lessons he’d taken while aboard Ethan Allen, Carter didn’t understand any of it

“My wife, Katje,” Chisholm said. “Colonel Carter of the United States Army.”

“I see that he is. Colonel, do you understand the danger you cause here?”

“Yes, ma’am. I didn’t have a choice. One of my soldiers is hurt—”

“Where is he?”

Carter waved toward the barn.

“And what do you wish to do?”

“Leave him with you, I guess,” Carter said. “Then we’ll go back in the bush.”

“And what will you do there?”

“Whatever we can to hurt the snouts.”

“Och, I could wish to go with you. That is impossible. Let us bring your soldier into the house, and get your commando away into the bush. Three miles north from here you will find a deep ravine, filled with brush. Go into it and wait. I will send Mvub] You must speak with him.”