Footfall

“Take four.”

Nat hung up. “I’ll take a poll. Keep it short. Sherry?”

“They’ll honor a surrender. Take the offer.”

“Bob?”

Bob Burnham shook his massive white head. “It’s not a physics problem. Oh, if we let them go, they can go straight for the Moon; then they own us. But whether they’ll do it … Nat, you never liked my aliens.”

“Right. Curtis?”

“Nuke ’em till they glow, then shoot ’em in the dark. Sherry you can—”

“Cool it! Joe?”

Joe Ransom hesitated, spoke in a rush. “I abstain. It’s too even I wish Bob Anson were here.”

“We all do. So we don’t know. Discussion. One minute each. Sherry?”

“It’s not complicated. When they surrender, they stay surrendered.”

“Yeah, but — okay. Wade?”

“No. They’ll go back to Saturn, repair their ship, and come back with a fucking moon. We win now or we never do. As for surrender, bullshit, Sherry. The surrender a fi’ honors is a foot on the chest and join the herd as a slave. They haven’t offered surrender.”

“Joe?”

“By damn, they haven’t, have they? But they’ve been giving conditional surrender in Africa. They understand the concept.”

“Sure,” said Curtis. “Charnel House Books understands contracts too, but they don’t honor them! Sherry, if they don’t offer a foot on the chest you can’t argue that their reflexes are involved.”

“I haven’t heard you commit yourself, Nat.”

“Right. Harpanet? This is a peculiar case. You joined the Dreamer Fithp before you ever heard of a conditional surrender.”

“Not so. I know of such a case in our history.”

“Say on, but keep it short.”

The fi’ said, “There was a war. Others had been fought with nuclear weapons, and so was this. The South Land Mass Fithp evolved a disease that would feed on the edible grasses of the East Land Mass. They demonstrated this for the East Land Mass Fithp and learned that they had evolved something similar …”

“We don’t have time, Harpanet!”

“Lead me. The planet was harmed. More harm would come. Maybe all fithp would follow the Predecessors into death. The Herdmasters met and agreed to use the knowledge in the Sky Thuktun to build a spacecraft. The high ranks of one flthp would travel to the nearest star, which was known to house intelligence. When Thuktun Flishithy was prepared, the two fithp would gamble for who must leave.”

“Was the agreement honored?”

“It was. We are here.”

“Do you know of any other such event?”

“Ffuff. Within a flthp, such adjustments are common. Between fithp, very rare.”

“Okay.” Reynolds raised the phone. “Mr. President?”

They barely heard the knock through the thick soundproof door. Jack Clybourne opened it. Hap Aylesworth, fat, bearded, his hair a mess, came in. “You wanted me, sir?”

“Right with you. Reynolds?”

“We can’t agree. It’s a good bet they’d keep their surrender. There’s even precedent. We don’t like the size of the pot.”

“I don’t either. Thank you.” The President hung up. “Hap, I need advice. Have you been listening?”

“Yes, sir.”

Seconds flowed on the big digital timer. “Six minutes,” Je

“I thought the Threat Team people would know,” Coffey said. “But they don’t. General. Admiral. You heard. Your advice?”

“The human race won’t be safe until the invaders are disarmed,” General Toland said.

The President jerked a thumb toward the big screens outside. “And if they defeat Michael? They could, you know.”

“Unlikely,” Admiral Carrell said.

“I beg your pardon, Admiral?”

“They’re closing fast. Unless Michael does something stupid, they’re bound to ram. I believe you can depend on General Gillespie to detonate every bomb aboard at closest approach.”

“Your advice, Admiral?”

Admiral Carrell raised an eyebrow at the timer. “I think I would do nothing at all.”

“All their women and children. They came from the stars. They offer an interstellar drive. We lose all that—”

“And keep the Earth,” Carrell said.

“But at what price? Hap?”

“Pass. I know how to win elections. This one’s beyond me.”

“Gimlet, this is Michael. Big Mama’s mad; she’s got all the children in the fight. I mean, she’s really mad.”

One of the screens below flashed, then flashed again.

“They’re really pounding each other,” General Toland said. “Go for it, Gillespie!”

“No,” President Coffey said. “Colonel, get me General Gillespie. Inform him that I have new orders. Then get Wes Dawson. We can end this with honor.”

“Mr. President, please,” General Toland said. “Sir, the risk is just too damned high! Thor, tell him!”

“I’ve heard your advice, General. I don’t need it again. Colonel, if you please.”

Je

“Colonel!”

“I resign.”

“Admiral Carrel!”

“No, Mr. President.”

Coffey turned to the door. Jack Clybourne stood solidly against it. “Mr. Clybourne — you too?”

Jack said nothing.

“I am the commander in chief! Hap, tell them.”

“I’m not the commander in chief, David.”

“Colonel, will you at least do me the courtesy of calling Mrs. Coffey?”

Je

“I’ll have you all shot!”

“Possibly,” General Toland said. “Tomorrow. But just now we have about three minutes.”

“Damn you all! Those creatures will blow Michael apart, and then they’ll own the Earth!”

“No, sir,” Admiral Carrell said. “It is you who risks the Earth. We risk only mankind’s enemies.”

Coffey sat and buried his head in his hands. After a moment Admiral Carrell lifted the microphone. “Colonel, get me Mr. Dawson.”

“Sir.”

“Congressman Dawson, this is Admiral Carrell. The President is not available.”

“What?”

“Tell the enemy commander that his offer is rejected.”

Steel plates now covered the windows. The sky was alive with green flares and retina-burn-white explosions. Fithp in pressure suits crawled across the slagged hull, towing equipment. Message Bearer rang like a smashed banjo, and the Herdmaster trumpeted, “How are they doing this? Defensemaster!”

“The wound in Sector Five is turned full away from the intruder, and has been since before you ordered it. Herdmaster, the tiny ships circle and fire into the wound. They are not using rockets, and our lasers ca

“Then kill me those flying guns! Takpusseh-yamp, was there an answer from the President?” But he knew. Takpusseh-yamp’s digits were rigid across his head. They still strangled the receiver with which he had been monitoring Dawson’s conversation.

“Dawson.”

“Say good-bye, Herdmaster. We’ll find our own path to the stars, and you won’t be there waiting.”

“Could you not persuade?”

“The President’s not available. I know David Coffey. He must be dead or dying. Admiral Carrell is in charge now. The Attackmaster. He wants you extinct, and he wouldn’t listen to me if I pleaded. I’m not even sure he’s wrong.”

“Wes! Did we win?”

“I think so. Hang on, Alice. It’s not likely to be long now.”

The Herdmaster asked, “What would you have of me, Dawson?”

“Two months in solitary confinement, Herdmaster, but I don’t think we’ll have the time.” Dawson’s grip tightened on the wall rung as Message Bearer shuddered sideways. Despite the danger, he was standing fully erect.

“Get me my mate,” the Herdmaster ordered.

Safe Room Two was jammed with females and children. The noise was terrible to hear: comforting adult voices, bleating of terrified infants, the herd is attacked! His mate cried, “Keph, what’s happening? The children are going rogue!”