Koothfektil-rusp’s digits snapped back to cover his head. Did he feel threatened? “We did not anticipate that the American FIeni would bomb their own major food-bearing domain! We did not anticipate that the Soviet Herd would cooperate with them; and that they surely did! Our beams stopped many of their suborbital bombs, but many got through, and the launch devices had moved before we could fire on them.”
“The ship?”
“Thirteen was rising on a launch beam when a thermonuclear missile from a submarine vehicle destroyed the laser facility.”
“The bombs: were they all from the Soviet Herd?”
“From desert territories on the Soviet continent, and from offshore of the American continent, from submarine vehicles that were shielded by water when our lasers fell. None of the thermonuclear devices came from the United States itself.”
The Herdmaster pondered that. “Breaker-One, must we assume that the United States Herd has surrendered to the other? Or has the Soviet Herd attacked our foothold in Kansas, risking their wrath?”
Raztupisp-minz glanced at Takpusseh before speaking. “You must also consider that two human herds may cooperate when neither has surrendered to the other.”
The Herdmaster had feared this. Too many answers were no answer.
“And yet we may prosper,” Attackmaster Koothfektil-rusp said soothingly. “There is lithe industry, little transportation in our chosen target area. We may find genotypes clustered when we land following Footfall
“Footfall, yes.” Keep to specifics. “Must the Foot fall? BreakerOne?”
Raztupisp-minz said, “They must be made to know that they are hurt.” Takpusseh stirred but kept silent.
“Hurt? In America they will starve! They have seared their crops with radioactive fire!” The Herdmaster took firm hold of his emotions. The air was heady with pheromones, and seven spaceborn males were ready to butt heads “Attackmaster? The Foot?”
Koothfektil-rusp’s answer was predictable. “Stomp them. Show our might. We have chosen the location, Herdmaster. This time we attack a weaker herd. We must secure a foothold on Winterhome, and expand from there. Weather following Footfall will make retaliation difficult. Fate gifts us with a side effect: the weather worldwide will be wetter and mole to our liking.”
“Show me.”
Koothfektil-rusp lit the wall screen. Under his direction a globe of Winterhome rolled, and stopped. The Attackmaster’s digit indicated the body of water that Rogachev called the Indian Ocean. “Here, in the center. Look how the waves expand from the impact point. East, they roll many makasrupkithp to the island nations. North, even further. Westward, they cover the lowlands where we see city lights; the highlands are left free. Northwest, fuel sources that serve worldwide industry are drowned. These herds that cooperated against us may still not cooperate with the savage herds of the Southern Hemisphere, and wild air masses make transport impossible to them, and where would they send their forces? We might land east or west or north; the rolling sea subdues the prey in all directions. My sleeper aides tell me that the Foot has the mass and velocity to do the work we want.”
They would drown, by eight to the eighths. The Herdmaster mourned in advance. “Have you chosen our foothold?’
“Here, I think. We would find not only mines but possible allies. One problem, Herdmaster: launching facilities will be a problem, here or anywhere. We must build in continual rain. Perhaps we must launch through rain, requiring more laser power, making a launch more conspicuous…
The Herdinaster felt himself relaxing. He knew military strategy. This was easier than talking about the craziness of the prey, which made his mind hurt.
Advisor Fathisteh-tulk vented a fluttering snort. “Possible allies?” His digits swiped at thin air: We can’t know that.
The Attackmaster snapped back. “They have little transportation! We will find true herds. When they surrender—”
The Herdmaster was tired. “Enough. Do it your way, Attackmaster. I’ve heard no better suggestion. Breakers, keep me aware. We must understand the prey; we must teach them our way. To your duties.”
He waited while the rest scattered. Then, “Fathisteh-tulk, you know planet dwellers better than we.” Have we erred? Could we win withozu the Foot? A Herdmaster could not ask.
The Advisor repeated what Breaker-One had said. “They must know that they have been hurt. Whether that will be enough… Herdmaster, can you spare me now?”
“Go, Fathisteh-Wlk. Your mate nears her term.”
The Soviets moved in a series of horizontal leaps, launching themselves down the corridor in long trajectories. The gravity was very weak, so weak that it took many seconds to fall from the center of a corridor to its wall. Nikolai found the conditions perfect. He had no trouble keeping up with the others even though they used their legs for propulsion and he had to launch himself with arms alone.
Sometimes he turned flips as he traveled through the corridor.
