Footfall

Dmitri opened another box. “Ha!” He reached into the box and brought out a big pistol, then fumbled in the box again until he found ammunition.

“That belonged to the American, Greeley,” Arvid said. “Is there another? The Americans brought several and gave one to me as a gift.”

“Da. There are two.” He brought out another pistol and handed it to Arvid with a box of ammunition.

Only two. I wonder if Dmitri can shoot as well as I can? I don’t suppose there’s any point in asking.

Arvid loaded the pistol and held it high. “At last my arm is whole again!” he shouted in English.

And what did the snouts make of that picture? “Is there anything else? Knives? I had a Walther PPK when they captured me, is that in there?”

“No.” Arvid opened wall cabinets. Spacesuits hung like ma

“If these can be made airtight,” Dmitri said, “will they not allow us to live in vacuum even without air tanks?”

“A few minutes longer. Not more.”

“We can kill many snouts in a few minutes,” Dmitri said. “Let us see if these can be made to fit us.”

Mrs. Woodward was dithering. “If I thought we could get to that big slab, the Podo Thuktun — they worship that, don’t they? We’d be even safer.”

“They lock it,” Alice said. “They lock everything but the kitchen and the garden and the funeral pit. You don’t want to hide in the funeral pit!”

“No. What are you doing?”

Alice was unscrewing the big wing nuts on a grill. “I’m going to Wes. Get the kids to the Garden. Hide.”

“Hide? Alice, they won’t harm children.”

“Carrie, you don’t want to be caught after Arvid and the Russians start their moves!”

“Oh.” Carrie put an arm around each of the children. “Alice—”

“I’ll be fine. Wes needs me.”

Carrie Woodward nodded agreement. “I’d have gone for my John. God be with you, Alice.”

“Thanks.”

A recorded voice trumpeted in the alien language. “Take footholds against thrust!”

Alice dove into the air shaft. Behind her Carrie Woodward gripped the corridor’s wet carpeting, both children clinging to her.

The pull increased until it was uncomfortable, then increased again. Like Kansas? More? I don’t know. Alice moved through the air shafts. Somewhere ahead was Wes Dawson.

The fithp warriors gestured but didn’t speak.

All right, Dawson thought. They’re still trying to drive me mad. Have they done it? How long since I had anyone to talk to?

There were only two, one before and one behind. I’m strong like Superman. Exercise. I’ve walked all the way from New York City to Joplin, Missouri. And they’re still elephants. Too damn big.

I’m as fast as they are. Faster. Jump back, grab that one’s gun! But why did they come for me?

No spin. Acceleration, thrust after all this time. Why am I out?

To prove I’m a rogue. Wait for me to go for a gun so they can kill me… no. Makes no sense. They wouldn’t take the spin off just for that.

Damn! I’m as schizzy as Alice. He stifled that thought. Alice isn’t crazy. Maybe she got over it.

Alice is sweet, and if I live through this, what will I do with her? Carlotta will kill her!

They were in a shallow spiral curve, climbing toward the ship’s bow. Thrust had risen to something like Earth normal.

They emerged in a place with windows, a place he had never seen… except in his mind, perhaps. A starship’s control room, an alien starship. It was dimly lit; half the light was coming from square UV monitor screens. There were no chairs, only pads and recessed holds for the claws of fithp feet. The pads would tilt for spin gravity, but they were flat now. He’d guessed from the change in gravity, and now he knew: Thuktun Flishithy was on a light footing. The warriors were holding back, out of the way.

Four fithp stood together in the center of the bridge. Dawson recognized one. Takpusseh-yamp. A fi’ saw them and beckoned. The Bull Stud? Yes, for the warriors immediately brought him forward, digits twined round his arms.

“Dawson,” the Herdmaster said. “Are you sane?”

He suppressed the urge to roll his eyes up and bobble his finger against his lips. “Yes. No thanks to you.”

The Herdmaster pointed to a screen. The view zoomed toward a distant, fuzzy object. As Dawson watched, it flared brilliant green, then flared again. Faint blue-green threads played against it from distant digit ships.

The Herdmaster gestured impatiently. “Look at that and tell me what it is.”

Dawson’s lips curved in a smile. “That is a tape of Star Wars,” he said. We’re fighting! Should I have jumped that soldier? Hell no. This is where they run everything. Stall. Wait for the chance to snatch a gun and …

“Speak our language, Dawson. We have no time for gibberish. You lectured Fathisteh-tulk on devices for use in space. Lecture me now regarding that. If you remain silent, I will return you your silence.”

“I can’t even tell which is which. There’s too much going on. “That big blinking thing — is that ours?”

“No, it rose from the United States. It carries a weapon that would be a laser but that it sends an impossibly high frequency. We have no such in our thuktunthp. What can you tell us?”

The last thing Wes wanted was to return to the dreadful silence of his cell. Here was where it was all happening! And he wouldn be giving away anything useful. “Gamma-ray lasers are possible. They destroy themselves, you only fire them once. You power them with a fission explosion.”

The Herdmaster bellowed something.

Takpusseh-yamp spoke too rapidly for Wes to follow. Another fi’, one Dawson was certain he had never seen before, listened gravely, then spoke slowly.

“Perhaps. There is nothing in the thuktunthp. This would explain why they use so many bombs.”

“What is the purpose of the intruder?”

Was that a serious question? Wes said, “They make war.”

“War has a purpose. What is the purpose? Do they seek a not surrender surrender?”

“I don’t understand. They want you extinct. They’re coming to kill you.”

“They will kill entire fithp? Females, children?”

“India.”

“India was not all of the human fithp.”

“Unless you surrender, that ship will destroy Thuktun Flishithy.”

The Herdmaster didn’t seem surprised. He spoke to the fourth fi’ in the group. “Defensemaster, you have heard. Warriors, keep this one there, where he will not interfere.”

The guards dragged him to one bulkhead. They placed his hands against the damp, spongy wall. “Grip.” Each hand was encircled by tentacles. The fithp warriors dug their claws into the floor.

The Herdmaster made certain that Dawson was held securely, far enough away that he could not overhear.

Thrust was steady now. The sixteen digit ships which had surrounded Message Bearer, her last wall of defense, were dwindling in her wake. “Defensemaster.”

“Lead me.”

“Can — we avoid battle?”

“Herdmaster, the intruder already has too high a velocity. If we thrust lateral to his path, he will still miss by only a few makasrupkithp. I am thrusting away from him, directly out from Winterhome. He must pass the last digit ships to find us.”

“This is your thuktun.” Do it your way. “Takpusseh-yamp.”

“Lead me.”

“Raztupisp-minz told us that the humans in Africa often demand conditions before foot touches chest. What words did he use? ‘Not surrender surrender’?”

“We took to calling it a ‘negotiated loss of status.’ ”

“Draft me one to be used if we lose this battle.”

“Herdmaster, is this possible?”

“Probably not. What else are you busy at? You have said yourself that this is their last attempt to break from beneath our foot. When the intruder is gone, then we can let them study how to surrender to us. Meanwhile, exercise your skill. Prepare for us negotiated loss of status giving them as little as possible.”