Footfall

That is no surprise. He would say that in any case, for strength in negotiation. “Defensemaster.”

“Lead me.”

“Maintain maximum thrust.”

For a moment Tantarent-fid hesitated. “As you will.”

“Takpusseh-yamp.”

“Lead me.”

“You will assist. We must send messages to…” he struggled with the alien name, “to the United States. Dawson will assist.”

Humans in Africa had given them six possible loci for 1 surviving government of that fithp. They would all be the target of tightbeams. Now I must know what to say.

The Herdmaster changed cha

“Breaker-Two, do you now have a… what you called—”

“I have prepared two versions of a negotiated loss of status Herdmaster, though I’m sorry to hear you ask. Here, cha

The Herdmaster read. I must. That thing will catch us. We might destroy it when it comes near, but it will send fire and gamma rays regardless. Our mates and our children are at ransom here and what Breaker-Two suggests is acceptable. The dissidents should be joyful. “Maintain this cha

“Wes Dawson, I wish to negotiate a loss of status.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Takpusseh-yamp?”

“The Herdmaster wishes to offer conditional surrender.”

The air went out of Dawson. In full thrust he might have collapsed. He said, “Speak more.”

“You shall have Winterhome — Earth. We shall have the solar system.”

“Why do you offer this now?”

“You see the screens. Your ship approaches. It can harm us. I would avoid that harm — but, Dawson, your fithp have no other ship, for if they had, they would have sent it. That ship can’t destroy us. It can only harm us, kill females and children. I want to avoid that.”

“I wish to think of this.”

Dawson’s eyes strayed to the screens. Message Bearer had been ripped; the edges of the hole still glowed red and orange. Sun-hot plasma must have roared down the corridors. Against the dark back of Winterhome, a light pulsed. Smaller flames came near, and flared green.

The ship rang to the tune of another explosion. Missiles exploding against the hull made a muffled thump you could hardly hear. But when a missile went off in the scar the Shuttle had left, it was different. Vibrations came from everywhere, with a sound like — that of a smashed banjo.

“Dawson, you act now or not at all.”

“I won’t send your message.”

A communications console buzzed. Pastempeh-keph gestured to the Breaker to answer. Not now! “Dawson, this is what you offered Fathisteh-tulk! We will depart Africa, all of the Traveler Fithp and the humans who wish to join us. We will follow the paths we both know, reaping the riches of space, trading your soil grown products for metals and—”

Dawson dare to interrupt. “Fathisteh-tulk knew me. I see that now. I want the solar system. If I’m crazy, that’s partly your doing.”

“You are mad indeed. When we have destroyed the intruder, we will visit Winterhome with destruction. That ship was built under the sign of peace. Never again will we honor that. We will trample every place, large or small, that ever displayed that sign.”

Dawson said nothing.

As I thought.

Takpusseh-yamp was finished with his call. He looked smug. It is his thuktun. He deserves one last play. “Breaker-Two. Speak to this rogue.”

Takpusseh-yamp turned. “Dawson! We have captured your mate. Paykurtank, the priest’s acolyte, found her after she left an air duct.”

“My mate is on earth,” Dawson said.

“Untrue. We know she is your mate because we watched you mating in the ducts.”

Dawson flushed. “So? We watched you mating in your rooms.”

“We do not speak to amuse ourselves, Dawson! You pretend to be a rogue, but you have a mate. A fi’s mate is clearly responsible for him! Your pretense is done.”

“Hell. If we’d known… wait a minute. You captured Alice?”

The Herdmaster was in a towering fury. “I would kill you this instant, Dawson, did you not represent your fithp in council. Will you transmit our terms and let your … Breaker-Two?”

“Your President. Dawson, your President surely has the rig to hear such an offer.”

Dawson said nothing.

I have him!

“You have a point,” Dawson said. “But … you had to capture Alice? She was loose! They’re all loose, aren’t they? Where?”

“We will leave your world to heal,” the Herdmaster pressed. He had not really believed this would work. Negotiated loss status, indeed! “There will be none of us on Earth, but there will be humans among our fithp. Surely your flthp and ours can survive alongside one another,” he said, not believing a word of it. “Humans will travel as passengers in our ships. From us you will eventually learn to build your own.” But the losing fithp become part of the wi

Dawson’s objection fell very wide of tradition. “Let you leave, huh? And go to Saturn, and repair your ship? And what then?”

“Then… I don’t understand. Breaker-Two?” Takpusseh-yamp said, “We fail to taste your problem.” “What’s to stop you from coming back with another Foot?” “Our surrender, you brain-damaged rogue!”

“Are you telling me that a negotiated…” Dawson fell silent.

Now what stops him? Ah. The red-haired female had reached the bridge. The frail human was nested in Paykurtank’s digits. She’d been hurt; she was hugging her right foreleg. She writhed at the sight of her mate.

“Wes! The Russians are loose. I killed a snout!”

“Good! Alice, we’re hurting them, we really are. The Herdmaster wants me to transmit a conditional surrender. Trouble is we can’t trust it.”

Alice looked from Dawson to the array of screens.

A female. We know too little. Will she be able to hold him calm? What counsel will she give? Was it an error to bring her here?

The Herdmaster listened as Dawson explained to Alice. Her alien face was unreadable, but the Herdmaster could guess at the bloodthirsty joy as she watched the sparkling intruder come near. When Dawson finished speaking, she said, “They’ll come back.”

“Yeah. Herdmaster, Takpusseh, have you been trying to tell me that a ‘negotiated loss of status’ is the same as a surrender?”

The Herdmaster couldn’t speak. Takpusseh-yamp said, “We give our surrender forever. You know us that well.”

“I have not been offered a surrender,” Dawson said.

“What is it you want?” But the Herdmaster knew, and he was trumpeting in agony now. “Wish you my chest under your foot? You shall not have that!”

And every fi’ in earshot was staring at him. “Fight your ship!” he trumpeted. “This battle is not concluded! We waste time. Kill that enemy. Signal the moon base. Trample that planet until its leaders roll on their backs. Dawson, we do not kill without reason. You have given us reason enough!”

“Hey, wait—”

“If we wait, that ship will harm us. When it is close enough, we kill it. Then there will be nothing to discuss. Speak to your President, or return to your cell.”

“Your offer isn’t good enough!”

“I have made my last offer. Choose.”

If man and fi’ had anything in common, then Dawson was in agony. The muscles of his face looked like digits in knots. His teeth were bared; they ground together.

The female ruined it. “Wes! Look!”

“My God!”

“Your—” Predecessor? But Dawson and Alice were gaping past the Herdmaster’s shoulder. The Herdmaster turned. Four screens showed four views of the engine room. The floor was awash in blood. The air itself was pink with spray. Nine corpses lay chewed as if by predators: eight fithp warriors and the legless Soviet in his curious legless suit. The remaining three humans were tearing the place apart.