Footfall

Curtis asked, “Did your superiors show interest in any area besides Kansas?”

“Kansas?”

“The region you invaded, this area.” Wade pointed. The erstwhile snout-held territory in Kansas was already circled on the great globe, with a black Magic Marker.

“No such interest was shown in my presence.”

“What we’re afraid of is a massive meteorite impact, something of asteroid size.”

The alien was silent for a time. Reynolds busied himself at the bar. Suddenly the alien said, “Thuktun Flishithy-Message Bearer?-was docked to a moonlet of the ringed planet for many years. This many.” The alien’s trunk emerged from the mud, and he flexed a clump of four digits, three times. “Pushing. We were not told why. I once heard officers call the mass chaytnf.”

“What does it mean?”

“It means this part of a fi’.” The alien rolled (and Sherry shied from a wave of mud). One broad clawed foot emerged.

The sci-fi types all seemed to freeze in place; but Je

“They’re talking too damn much.”

“Huh? The alien’s talking a lot more than they are.”

The blurry voice from the TV set was saying, “It was not so large as many of the-asteroids-at the ringed planet. I think 8 to the 12th standard masses—”

“Standard mass is your mass? About eight hundred pounds… Curtis took a pocket calculator out of his bush jacket. “Jesus! Twenty-seven billion tons

Nat Reynolds said, “At… ten to twenty miles per second, that could-Harpanet, where are they going to drop it?”

“I was never told that it would be impacted against Earth. If so, the Herdmaster may have sought more data, perhaps in Kansas.”

“Jesus, Je

When a pretty girl enters a swimming pool, the natural thing to do is follow. Nat didn’t follow at once. The pool was filled with thick mud, but he was already muddy, and there were showers he set his glass down, jumped in, and waded forward. Harpanet turned and sprayed Sherry with a jet of dark mud. Nat saw her startled and appalled before she threw up her arms and turned her back. Hell, Sherry was from Oklahoma; this was hardly fair! A California boy knows how to water-fight. Nat half cupped his hands and sent water jetting at the invader.

The alien preened. He liked it. Sherry was laughing, and three others had leaped to her aid and were jetting mud over the alien’s back. Curtis’ tall wife showed impressive ambidextrous firepower.

The alien sprayed them back impartially, with the capacity of a small fire truck, his digits splayed from around the nostril.

Jack Clybourne and Je

None of the Threat Team noticed them. The water fight stopped, and two muddy writers were now fondling the alien’s trunk. Reynolds asked, “Can you bend it in any direction?”

“No.”

Sherry began braiding the bifurcations, the ‘digits.’ “Does this hurt?”

“No. Discomfort.” The trunk lifted and writhed and was no longer braided.

“I wonder just how mobile your tail is,” Curtis said from behind the alien.

The short, somewhat flattened tail flapped up, down, left, right. “Control the speed of a floating car with tail. Accelerate and stop.”

“Mmm. We couldn’t drive your cars, then, even if we could capture one.”

“Not one. Two human could drive. Or I drive for you.”

Nat Reynolds noticed the visitors. He moved to the doorway without disturbing the rest. “Major Je

“I wondered how much you were telling him,” Jack said.

Nat looked at Jack. He gri

“You needn’t be so damned flippant. He acts like he’s switched sides, snout to human. I take it he’s got you convinced?”

“We’re still watching, Clybourne, but it’s a little more than that. He expects us to act like he’s switched sides. He’s not putting any sweat into convincing us. Sherry thinks it’s herdbeast behavior.”

“I still don’t think you should be telling that alien exactly what we’re afraid of at all times!”

“Why? What is he going to do, disguise himself as a general and walk out? Change clothes with one of us? Come on! Or wait for rescue? Clybourne, if the snouts can get him out of Cheye

“But never mind that. Think about this. Somewhere in the sky, aboard their mother ship, they’ve got human prisoners. They got some from Kansas, they may have saved some from the Soviet space station. They’re probably treating their human prisoners as if they had changed sides. If nobody’s shot his mouth off too much, it’ll be just like Hogan’s Heroes, with the fithp totally gullible and the prisoners ru

Jack’s eyes changed. He said, “Mr. Reynolds, do you really believe that? Or are you spi

“Oh… some of both. But it could be true. For a while. Before the aliens catch on, our people might actually do some damage.”

“And then? One human does some damage, they’ll kill them all, won’t they? I saw those piles of bodies in Topeka.”

Nat nodded soberly. “I’d have liked to meet Wes Dawson again. The snouts are ruining what used to be a fun thing. Anyway, you can see we’re learning things.”

“Yeah.”

“The asteroid strike will be an ocean strike. They like things wet. Vaporizing a billion tons of seawater won’t bother them at all. I guess it’s time to talk to the President again.”

Shoshone was a short strip of civilization in the midst of alien wilderness: a market, a gas station, a primitive-looking motel, a diner. The population must once have been about twenty. Now, at first glance, there were none.

He drove up the dirt track behind the motel. The track led through a field of immature tumbleweeds, still growing, not yet nomadic. They were well distributed, as if cultivated, or as if the plants had made agreements between them: this three square feet is mine, you get the same, intrude at your peril. But the plants looked dead and dried, the kind of plant that ought to grow in Hell.

Martin Carnell drove on through, slowly. Fox had described Shoshone to him once. Where were those caves?

He spotted Fox’s truck.

He parked beside the truck and went wandering on foot. There was a timeless feel here, as if nobody could possibly be in a hurry.

Martin turned the dogs loose into the desert. They dashed about, enjoying their freedom, ru

Marty wandered up and down the low rock hills. Presently he found the rooms.

Five of them, dynamite-blasted into the rock. They were roughly rectangular, with shelves and, in one instance, a door. All the comforts of home, he thought. Miners? Miners would think in terms of dynamite. What were they after, bauxite? Had there been real caves to be shaped?

Marty crossed the low ridge, puffing. On the other side were more caves, and John Fox dressed in khaki shorts and a digger hat, looking up at him.

Fox didn’t seem surprised to see him. “Hello, Marty. I heard you clumping around. The rock carries sound.”

“Hello, John. I’m carrying some perishables. You’re invited to di

“Is it just you?”

“Me and the dogs. That’s Darth, he’s just a puppy,” Darth had come ru