Footfall

He answered readily enough. “Message Bearer is fully able to defend itself, and well beyond attack range in any case. Main drive running well. We’ve used more than half our fuel, of course, and that will have to be replaced sometime. Sixteen digit ships moored for boost, and more returning from Winterhome. We’re on schedule. We’ll match with the Foot in two days. In twenty-two days we’ll have set the Foot on course, as you and Attackmaster Koothfektil-rusp may decide. We’ll disengage and leave Winterhome on a fast parabola.”

“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 funnel storm. The beam was blocked by clouds and debris. The ship rose too slowly; the pilot tried to land. During that vulnerable period an aircraft fired a missile.”

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.”

But Takpusseh stirred, and Fathisteh-tulk caught it. “BreakerTwo?”

“They keep secrets. The Soviets speak their own language, though they practice the thuktun-speech too. They know more of the air ducts than we have asked them to learn. Ask us again after Digit Ship Six gives us more prisoners.”

Fathisteh-tulk turned to another source. “Keeper of the thuktun, what have you learned? The prey are described as insane. I remember the pflit of the Homeworld—”

Speaking of the Homeworld to a fellow sleeper, Fistartehthuktun waxed loquacious. “Of course, the pflit reproduced at a furious rate. They were little mottled gray beasts the same colors as the Sunward Forest they lived in. and the way they clustered made fithp look roguish. An individual life meant nothing in the survival strategy of the pflit, so they evolved no defense against predators, and they migrated in swarms, even if the path led off a cliff… What insight are you seeking? The prey throw their lives away, but they don’t breed faster than we do.”

“Probably true,” Takpusseh said.

“You miss my point,’ The Advisor said, “Is it not true that nature shapes life to fit its style of life?”

We’re wasting time, Pastempeh-keph thought, but he wasn’t sure and he didn’t speak. A Herdmaster must trumpet softly, lest a suggestion be taken for an order.