Footfall

Chowpeentulk said, “Unmated females go rogue too.”

“Nonsense.”

“We show it differently. We do not go on killing sprees. But we often develop a distaste for males and for children. We play dominance games instead of cooperating with our fithp.”

“What are you doing here, Chowpeentulk? What is your interest? Did you want my mate trampled?”

“No… I am widowed. At my age it is certain that I will never mate again. The war kills males, particularly unmated males. My interest now lies with my children and the Traveler Fithp. The Traveler Fithp needs your mate, sane.”

“If you knew how I feel about him, you might send me down in order to punish your mate’s murderer.”

“You were dissident too.”

“I was and am. The Traveler Fithp owned the stars and planets before ever we saw the shape of the prey. We don’t need them.”

K’turfookeph spoke softly. “There is no dissident fithp. The matter has been decided, consented by the new Advisor, accepted by Fistarteh-thuktun. Winterhome will be ours. The danger of leaving it for the humans is too great. Fathisteh-tulk found a true path.”

“Nothing tried to kill us when we circled the gas giant.”

K’turfookeph stood silent. Chowpeentulk spoke in a voice like falling water. “Shreshleemang, did you advise your mate to exercise proper restraint in his efforts for the dissident cause?”

“Proper restraint? We—” She stopped.

“Restraint is the thuktun of females. Males don’t understand restraint. Chintithpit-mang would do anything to advance the dissidents. He proved that. Males need their mates to protect them from such folly.”

“He was fighting in Kansas, far beyond my reach!”

“My mate made a mistake there,” K’turfookeph acknowledged. “The Year Zero Herd were a working fithp. Separating them drove some toward rogue status just when they were facing a madly alien environment. But do you not share blame?”

“You will not drive me from the ship,” said Shreshleemang. Females don’t normally fight, but she was ready.

“We would not drive you,” K’turfookeph said.

“I will not go! To live on Winterhome, forever — what would I do there?”

“There is much to do. We have a world to hold, a new species to bring into the Traveler fithp. Your mate is there. Many of the Year Zero will be sent there.”

Another spoke from behind K’turfookeph. “Once the many fithp was great. Now there are few. If you die childless, there will be fewer still.”

Shreshleemang had not noticed Flarishmang’s approach. Her own great-aunt. Shreshleemang’s anger rose at being reproved as a childless sleeper, but they weren’t giving her time to answer. The females were gathering round her like a wet brown wall.

Chowpeentulk said, “Your mate will go rogue again. It will be remembered that he committed murder while you were present to advise him. You will be blamed. No male will risk your company. You will remain unmated and childless. Your friends will gather to comfort you, of course… won’t they? Perhaps not. And you will grow old, held within the womb of Message Bearer, while others carve our future across the face of Winterhome!”

Chowpeentulk’s voice had risen to a bellow. “Do you really think I seek vengeance? Against whom? If your mate went mad who failed to pull him back? It was known that Digit Ship Six was arriving. Why did you not meet him at the airlock?”

“I will go.”

“Where were you?”

“I was busy. Cease! I will join my mate in Africa. We will conquer the human fithp and bind them to us. History may judge the result.”

39. THE SILVER-TONGUED DEVILS

The eye-searing light died. Harry tipped back the welder’s mask. “Good work.” He ran his hand along the gridwork. “Now they can put the electrical stuff in.”

His companion grunted. “What the hell is this?” Narrow rails ran straight down to an opening in the cylinder within which they worked, and ended above the floor.

“Launching rails,” Harry said. “Look, they got these things they call spurt bombs. I don’t know how they work, but when an atom bomb goes off near one of them, the thing sort of curls up and dies, and when it dies it shoots off a really strong gammaray laser beam. What we have here is a gizmo to throw the spurt bombs out where they can soak up some of the energy from the bombs that move this ship.”

“How do they aim them?”

“Black magic. Hell, I don’t know. All I know is they have to be thrown out, and we’re building the gizmo that does that.”

“Okay.” The welder gestured toward the tangle of wires and pipes surrounding them. “Christ, this whole ship is one big kludge.”

“Yeah.”

“More all the time, too.”

“I guess. Anyway, all we have to do now is get out of here.”

Harry led the way into the empty bay. The spurt bombs were big; the nests for them were ten feet tall and a foot across. Harry climbed a ladder, slid sideways through spurt bomb nests, and emerged through an unwelded hatch onto the hemispherical slop of the Shell.

The shock absorbers rose above them, holding nothing. The Brick, the section that would house men and spacecraft, hadn’t been mounted yet. There were four spurt bomb bays. The pair of drive bomb bays were far larger. Conveyors and a pair of ca

A catwalk took them down the Shell to the concrete floor.

“Beats me how you find your way around.” Whitey Lowenstein took off the welder’s mask and cap. “Ten minutes to quitting time. Beer?”

“I’ll join you if I can.”

The Chuckanut was crowded, but Whitey had saved a corner booth. He had two girls with him. Harry sank into the booth gratefully and waved for a pitcher.

“We’d about given you up,” Lowenstein said. “You remember Pat.” He took Pat’s hand and held it. “And that’s Janet. What kept you?”

“Rohrs wanted to go over some stuff. Hi, Pat. Nice to meet you, Janet. What do you do for the project?”

“Pat’s a clerk,” Janet said. “I’m a welder, like Whitey.”

“Tough job.” She didn’t look big enough, either.

“I can handle it,” Janet said.

Whitey watched Harry chug a large glass, refill it, and chug again. “Okay, Harry, I give up. I’ve seen you carrying General Gillespie’s briefcase. I’ve heard your stories about Kansas, and I even believe them, but then I’ve seen you sweeping floors. I watched you co

“Harry, just what in hell are you?”

Harry laughed. “You’d never guess in a million years. Whitey, I’m a trusty.”

“A what?”

Pat giggled.

“Remember when we met?”

“Yeah, I thought you were an atomjack.”

“Remember there was a big security flap that day?”

“You remember the big flap, right? Trust me, it was the day you met me. I caused it. I helped smuggle a newspaper reporter into here, right into General Gillespie’s house.”

“Harry, goddammit, I never know when you’re bullshitting me.”

“Not this time. The guy’s name was Roger Brooks. I don’t know how he found out there was a story here, but he hired me to bring him here from Colorado Springs. Turns out he’d known Mrs. Gillespie a long time.”