"Or the first Americans to kill," Franks corrected.
"No one would know of it except yourselves," the leady pointed out. "It would be useless heroism. Your real concern should be surviving on the surface. We have no food for you, you know."
Taylor put his gun in its holster. "They've done a neat job of neutralizing us, damn them. I propose we move into a city, start raising crops with the help of some leadys, and generally make ourselves comfortable." Drawing his lips tight over his teeth, he glared at the A-class leady. "Until our families can come up from undersurface, it's going to be pretty lonesome, but we'll have to manage."
"If I may make a suggestion," said another Russian uneasily. "We tried living in a city. It is too empty. It is also too hard to maintain for so few people. We finally settled in the most modern village we could find."
"Here in this country," a third Russian blurted. "We have much to learn from you."
The Americans abruptly found themselves laughing.
"You probably have a thing or two to teach us yourselves," said Taylor generously, "though I can't imagine what."
The Russian colonel grinned. "Would you join us in our village? It would make our work easier and give us company."
"Your village?" snapped Franks. "It's American, isn't it? It's ours!"
The leady stepped between them. "When our plans are completed, the term will be interchangeable. 'Ours' will eventually mean mankind's." It pointed at the aircraft, which was warming up. "The ship is waiting. Will you join each other in making a new home?"