Chintithpit-mang himself moved clumsily. One leg was braced straight, and it interfered with his every motion. A thermonuclear device had exploded near the ship just before takeoff. Chintithpitmang and six prisoners had slammed against a wall. The prisoners, with their negligible mass, were barely bruised, but Chintithpitmang’s right hind leg had snapped under him.
Two octuples of warriors met them at the end of a makasrupk of tunnel. They all looked irritatingly clean and healthy. Chintithpit-mang was glad to mm his prisoners over to them. If any died, he preferred that another have them in charge.
He took the shortest route toward Shreshleemang. His mate would be waiting.
Humans in a corridor startled him. He was reaching for his gun before he realized that they must be prisoners. They seemed to want something… He glared at them and kept moving. The next corner brought him face to face with Fathisteh-tulk.
Had the Herdmaster’s Advisor noticed? “May your time stretch long, Advisor,” he said, and would have passed.
“Stay,” said Fathisteh-tulk. “I need you.”
Chintithpit-mang suppressed a fluttering snort of displeasure, but the Advisor sensed it anyway. “This is of massive importance, and none other will do,” be persisted. “You are of the Year Zero Fithp, and a dissident. So is your mate. She will assume that yow duties kept you at the ship until you can explain to her. Come.”
Dmitri and Arvid climbed wearily from the air duct.
Two female fithp looked at the Soviets and passed on. A passing fi’ warrior trumpeted anger at them; they flinched back. Dmitri frowned. “Why did he do that? I thought they had their instructions—”
“He may have had other instructions,” Arvid said.
“No. He was injured. A ship must have arrived from Earth — that series of thuds this morning—”
“Da. Injured warriors will not like humans.”
The next Ii’ warrior seemed friendly enough. Perhaps he was glad of a touch of strange in his life. He made conversation, and the Soviets answered in kind. He dawdled for the benefit of the tired duct-cleaners, who moved a little more slowly than necessary. Hide your strength!
The Herdmaster looked up from his viewscreen and snorted angrily. His digits pounded a baseball-sized button. “Communications, get me Fathisteh-tulk. Find out why he isn’t on duty.”
“Will you talk to him yourself?”
“No. Send him here. Has Digit Ship Six arrived?”
“It arrived while you slept, Herdmaster.”
“After you have the Advisor, get me Breaker-One.”
“The Advisor doesn’t answer, Herdmaster.”
“What? Never mind. Get me Breaker-One,”
The screen showed Raztupisp-minz looking as if his youth had returned. Power could do that for an aging fi’. He had had power while breaking the sleepers to their new role. Now his human charges had given him his authority back.
“We will put the new prisoners to distributing the dietary supplements,” he said, “and let them talk with the Soviets, with Tashayamp present. First, however, I intend to house them with Dawson. Dawson has been alone for several days now. We hoped that, like a newborn meatflyer, he would fixate on me if he had no other companionship.”
“Did it work?”
“It is too soon to tell, but I think not. Dawson is not newborn. He talks to me, but not as a new slave talks to one who has taken his surrender. There is anger if not impudence, Herdmaster, I wonder if there is a surrender symbol among humans that we have not discovered.”
“He surrendered. He must be made to know the implications.”
“At your orders—”
“Drown you, your task is not within my thuktun! I advise only. You will do what you can, in whatever way you feel is good, and you will accept full responsibility for failure!”
“Lead me, Herdmaster. Companions from Dawson’s herd may give him back his rationality.”
“Your scarlet-tufted female was considered a curable rogue. Will her presence in Dawson’s cell affect Dawson’s sense of reality?”
“Mice accepted surrender. She obeys orders. Eight-cubed leader Siplisteph says she seems saner than most.”
“Keep me informed. Are the air ducts clean?”
Raztupisp-minz bridled at his sarcastic tone. “The prisoners have covered perhaps six sixty-fourths of the network. They’re doing well. Herdmaster, you are aware that a battle might destroy the duct sweepers or rip the ducts open. The humans are gaining practice against real need.”
“Your meaning wets my mind. I take it that they are indeed being broken to the Traveler Herd.”
Breaker-One hesitated. Then, “They do not interpret orders rigorously. One has explored regions to which he was not assigned. This may demonstrate the curiosity native to a climbing species, or they may hope to gain knowledge that will make them of more benefit to us—”
“Still they do not obey. Carry on.” The Herdmaster broke contact. “Get me Chowpeentulk.” If he knew Chowpeentulk, she would know where her mate was under almost any circumstances.
Communications tracked her to the infirmary, where Chowpeentulk was in the act of delivering an infant. Even a Herdmaster had to wait sometimes.
