Footfall

Shavyrin lifted the telephone. “Polivanov. Shavyrin here. Colonel, did the Americans fire their Pershings?” There was a long pause. “I see,” Shavyrin said. “Do we have communications with the strategic forces? I see. Thank you.” He put the telephone down. “The KGB has cut us off from all reports from the West,” he said carefully. “Their spetsnaz troops came in such force that we could not hold all of this headquarters. My troops chose instead to,defend the command circuits, which remain intact.” He pointed at the winking lights. “The keys will work, Comrade Academician. What do we do?”

Pavel breathed in short gasps. It hurt terribly. He collapsed in a chair in front of his console. “The Pershings—”

“We will never know about the Pershings,” Shavyrin said. “And from the sounds in the corridors, we do not have much more time.” As he spoke he unbuttoned the breast pocket of his uniform and took out a key. He looked at it for a moment, then inserted the key into his console and turned it.

“You know more of these things than I, Pavel. I have aimed my panel. It is your decision now.” Shavyrin drew his pistol and turned toward the door. “But I think you must decide quickly.”

Jt felt as if his head was padded with cotton wool. Each breath hurt, and Shavyrin’s voice seemed to fade and return. What must 1 do? We ca

Lorena lay on his Persian carpet. The broken brass telescope lay over her left arm, partly covering the expensive bracelet that Pavel had bought her. He could not see whether she was breathing.

The gunfire in the corridors outside was very close.

Quickly! Pavel fumbled with his shirt buttons. It seemed to take forever to open the links of the chain, and when he tried to jerk it off it wouldn’t break. Patience—

He opened the catch at last, and for a moment stared at the-brass key; then quickly and decisively he thrust it into the key switch and turned it.

One by one the lights on the board blinked from green to red.

“It is done,” Bondarev said.

“Da,” Shavyrin said. There was a loud click as he released the safety catch of his pistol.

There was something in the air. It affected all fithp differently. Spaceborn females only felt a nervousness, a wrongness; they tended to snap back if approached wrongly. Sleepers were easily distracted; they had to be held to their duties. Even spaceborn males felt a belligerent optimism, as if their bodies wanted to dance or fight.

Defensemaster Tantarent-fid had the air circulation ru

The skewed mating seasons had come twice a year for fifteen years. The Herdmaster knew the feeling well, but he couldn’t help it: he felt good all over. The war was going well. Minor reversals had occurred on Winterhome, but the base was still in place. We learn. And this gathering will produce results.

Pastempeh-keph didn’t use the display room much, though his predecessor had. It was too large for comfort. He hadn’t seen it since the history lesson, since the day Dawson attacked his own Breaker. He felt he needed it now. Message Bearer could run itself for a few hours, and screens wouldn’t do. It must be a full gathering. He wanted to watch their body language.

Seven fithp rested on their bellies in a circle: the Herdmaster, his Advisor, both Breakers, the Attackmaster, the Defensemaster, and Fistarteh-thuktun. The Herdmaster looked around at the fithp he had summoned. He said, “We are going to leani why the humans behave as they do. We will learn now.”

Even Fathisteh-tulk looked uneasy; and that was somehow gratifying.

“Priorities first. Defensemaster, what is our status?”

Tantarent-fid was the youngest present. He was a smallish male, space-born, mated, father of two male children well below fighting age. He was not known to have dissident leanings. His predecessor, who did, had been retired while the Foot was departing the ringed giant.

The Defensemaster’s business was the survival of the Traveler Herd. His domain included air systems, food sources, hull integrity, the main drive, course determinations, the mounted digit ships, and the lasers that would defend the ship from meteors or alien weapons. He shared these last three domains with the Attackmaster.

He answered readily enough. “Message Bearer is fully able to defend itself, and well beyond attack range in any case. Main drive ru

“You have prey in the air ducts.”

“Yes, the Breakers have had some success in training the human flthp. They show a gratifying agility. For two days now we’ve had them cleaning and re-impregnating the filters. We had hoped that would take the mating scent out of the corridors, but—” Tantarent-fid clawed the air, perfunctorily. “We’ll reserve the humans as backup to the automatic systems. The Breakers can best tell you whether they would react well during a real emergency.

“Good enough. Attackmaster Koothfektil-rusp, how’s the texture of the mud?”

The Attackmaster’s business was war. “I believe we can hold the base on Land Mass Two,” he said. “Digit ships are in transit with prisoners and loot. if things continue to go well, we will not need the Foot; but we must make that decision soon.” He paused, then, “We’ve lost Digit Ship Twenty—”

“How did you lose this digit ship?”

Koothfektil-rusp reared up on his forelegs. “Digit Ship Twenty was rising on a launch laser during heavy weather. We believe that the beam itself precipitated a fu

Some losses had to be expected, of course. Spaceborn had little grasp of planetary weather. Choose another topic — “Attackmaster, I have the impression that the prey continually repudiate their surrender.”

“They do.”

“Your response?”

The Attackmaster looked uncomfortable. “Which thuktun shall we read? Fithp do not do such things. My warriors trample all humans within sixty-four srupkithp of where prey break their bond to the Traveler Herd. If a prey hides well enough to survive our wrath, we take him to be sane and harmless. But this is hard on my fithp, Herdmaster. It is hard to crush those who have surrendered!”

“I have my problems too. Breaker-One, is the Attackniaster’s approach correct?”

“I don’t— It won’t teach them surrender, Herdmaster. Attackmaster Koothfektil-rusp has told us this: they attack after surrender, singly and in octuples and in still larger groups. This goes beyond an epidemic of rogues. It grows likely that the typical human resembles Dawson, and not the Soviets. They make their own decisions: each an entire fithp wobbling on two legs. Killing those who were not involved in a breach of faith… may accomplish nothing at all, or give them reason to question our sanity.”

“Dawson. Fumf—” The Herdmaster considered. He must have answers. Was he even asking the right questions? “To call such behavior insane is futile. If all are insane— Advisor, you have been uncommonly silent.”

“Lead me Herdmaster. Breaker-One, there is the matter of predictability. If all are insane, are they all insane in the same fashion?”

“Not even that. I have no complaints of the Soviets.”