Footfall

Gillespie poured Harry’s glass full again. “Lot to do yet,” Gillespie said. “First, we have to bring in the ferryboats. Tomorrow morning we’ll send all the dependents, and everybody but the launch and flight crews, over to Port Angeles.”

Harry dropped into one of the command chairs, dodging TV screens. “What about the rest of Bellingham?”

“We wait on that one.”

“Yeah, if the snouts see there’s nobody here … going to be tough, though. What do we do?”

“We don’t do anything,” Gillespie said. “We’ll give the sheriff as much notice as we can. You don’t need to worry, Harry. We’ve got speedboats for the last-minute crew.”

“Sure — how far away would you have to be?”

“A couple of miles if you have shelter. At Hiroshima the damage at five miles wasn’t too bad. Of course we’re setting off a lot more than one bomb.” Gillespie drained his glass.

“Of course the safest place is in the ship,” Max Rohrs said.

“That’ll be all military people—”

“Well, but some will be more military than others,” Rohrs said. “I’m going.”

“You?” Harry almost laughed.

Max didn’t laugh. “Yes. Chief Warrant Officer Maximilian Rohrs, Damage Control Officer, at your service. Who else knows as much about the way this ship is put together?”

“Well, Harry does,” Ed Gillespie said.

“Hey, wait a minute!”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Rohrs came over and clapped Harry on the shoulder. “Don’t I remember you doing some entertaining in the Chuckanut? Something about it wasn’t your regular line of work, your regular work was hero?”

“Something like that,” Gillespie agreed. “So. Want to take up your regular occupation again?”

Harry tried to stand up, but Rohrs’ heavy hand was on his shoulder. “Now hear this. I am not an astronaut.”

“Neither am I,” Max Rohrs said.

“I didn’t tell you to go! And, Max, you and the General designed this ship. If—”

“Have some more champagne, Harry.”

“A pleasure. Look, I’ve met most of the crew. You’re not really filling it out at the last second, are you?”

“No. I thought this over fairly carefully,” General Gillespie said. “What is it that those kids don’t know? That stuff shouldn’t be allowed to get warm, Harry.”

Harry drank. Gillespie said, “They know the ship. They know what’s most likely to happen to it. They’re dedicated. They know how to be tired and hurting and still keep going because we taught them that, pretty much the same way I was taught. But, Harry, it was us making them hurt, and they knew we could make it.

“Harry, you had a back problem. You got yourself a book of back exercises, and you used it while you crossed the country on a motorcycle, and got beat up on by the fithp, and lost two women and you still kept going, and all to keep a promise. And you hadn’t even promised to do that! I want my dedicated astronauts and want you too. I don’t know who’ll fall apart up there.”

“And what is it I want?” Harry inquired politely.

The General half closed his eyes. He seemed in no hurry to answer. Rohrs finished his glass and poured again. He was watching the screens.

The screens hadn’t changed in several minutes. One, from a camera on the dome wall, showed Michael in full. Two great towers stood on the curve of the hemispherical shell, with ca

Rohrs said, “The biggest spaceship ever built by Man. Done by God.”

“And I’m done too,” Harry said.

— 

Gillespie said, “If we win this. If. We’ll kill a lot of snouts and the rest will surrender. Thousands of snouts, all trying to join what our Threat Team has started calling the Climbing Fithp. Thousands of snouts — sane snouts, mostly — all learning to be human. Who will want to learn the name of the man who first captured a snout?”

“Pour me some more of that,” said Harry.

40. THY DASTARDLY DOINGS ARE PAST

Neither their silver nor their gold shall be able to deliver them in the day of the LORD’S wrath…

A fire devoureth before them; and behind them a flame burneth.

Je

“Come in, Colonel,” Admiral Carrell said. “Your station is here.” He indicated a table facing the big screens beyond the glass wall. The table held a small switchboard and computer terminal. Je

“Operations, Colonel Walters.”

“Control here, communications test.”

“Roger. I read you five by five.” Another button.

“Dreamer Fithp here,” a voice said.

“Control here. Communications test.”

“Fine.”

She pushed other buttons. Finally she nodded to Admiral Carrell. “Communications checked out, sir. The link with Michael has a lot of static.”

“It will probably get worse. All right.” Carrell went to the door. “Mr. Clybourne, please tell the President that everything is ready, and he can join us whenever he likes. Colonel, begin Operation Moby Dick.”

“Yes, sir.” Je

They could hear the cheers through the glass wall. Then the Situation Room fell silent. Crews hunched over consoles.

One of the situation screens showed the locations of the Invader Mother Ship and all the digit ships they could locate. The mother ship and sixteen digit ships were in geosync over Africa. They posed no danger yet. The moon was just setting; snout installations there would see nothing. Africa was wrapped in night. For whatever it was worth, the Invaders would start from their sleep to find themselves attacked.

Eight digit ships were in twelve-hour orbits, evenly distributed around the Earth, and three of these passed to east, center, and west of the United States every twelve hours. One would be passing over the South Pole when Michael launched. The others would have to be distracted.

Another screen showed all the effective missiles remaining under U.S. control. Lights blinked and colored lines flowed across the screens as the main battle computer matched missiles with Invader targets.

General Toland came in. “All ready at my end,” he said.

Not that the Army has much to do — unless the snouts start dropping rocks at random!

“Good.” Carrell stood at the balcony window, his eyes fastened on the screens below. After a moment, General Toland sat at one of the desks.

One screen faded, then was replaced by a map of the South Atlantic. A bright red line rose from the ocean and arced toward Joha

“God, what if it really hits?” Toland said to no one.

“It won’t,” Carrell said.

Other lines arced upward from the South Atlantic. One rose straight up: the EMP bomb. Then a bright blue ring sprang up to surround that area.

“We’ve lost communications with Ethan Allen,” Je