A Long Time Until Now (38 page)

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Authors: Michael Z Williamson

Tags: #fiction, #science fiction, #time travel, #General, #Action & Adventure

BOOK: A Long Time Until Now
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“What’s happened?” he asked. “Look at the COB.”

The goat pen had changed. The sweat lodge looked different. There were a bunch of Neo men limping around, helping with the palisade.

“Hello!” he called.

“We see you,” Alexander shouted back. Was that a bandage on her foot?

Dan led the patrol across the stepping stones and into camp.

They passed by where Spencer, Ortiz and Trinidad were digging and setting another fresh-trimmed trunk. The Neo men dragged logs and yes, several were bandaged. Had there been an attack?

Spencer turned and said, “Yeah, they tried to swarm us. We’re okay, barring some flesh wounds. They took a beating. Go easy on the LT. He had it rough.”

“Too much for him?”

Spencer tensed for a moment.

“No,” he said with a wide-eyed stare. “It was not too rough for him. Seriously, just don’t talk about it, okay?”

Okay, that was obviously taboo. Got it.

“Hooah. Where should the Urushu guests stay?”

Spencer pointed. “They can set up next to the wall and create a lean-to.”

He translated briefly, and Ak!tash chose the wall next to the sweat lodge/smoke hut. They had their hides, and they piled some poles from the wood pile. It took them a few minutes.

“Are we feeding them or are they on their own?”

“They’ve fed us before and will be working. We have enough, I think. Barker? Can we feed the Urushu?”

“How many? Yes. I’ll grab another haunch.”

He explained that, and the rules of the camp, for Ak!tash. “You will eat with us, guests. Dump there. Wash there. It is our way. The others fought us but we defeated them.”

He put off further questions and indicated the fire circle.

The wall was coming along fast. Those Neos were a useful addition. Also, with both groups here, possibly some issues could be worked out. Maybe.

As they entered the camp proper, Dalton said, “I must be insane. I smell bacon.”

Barker said, “You do smell bacon. Also ham, smoked turkey, and smoked pork butt.”

“How . . . ?”

“I chopped up a young wild pig from a few days ago, salted it, rubbed with honey, smoked in the smoke hut. I’m going to smoke some until it dries, as a test. We’ll have something to last the winter.”

“Honey?”

“Yeah, I found a hive and got a few stings even with Spencer’s bug netting.” He held up an arm with red spots on it. “But they weren’t bad, and we’re figuring out how to make them a new hive with some of the board and crap from Number Eight, and some stuff we split.”

Dan asked, “Are we just in time?”

“You are just in time. Crisping up perfectly.”

Everyone else piled in.

Atop the turret, Alexander said, “There better be some for me. Oglesby can pass it up.”

Yes, he could. Was that an implied threat? He didn’t think so. He was just closest. He handed up a board, being careful not to spill the sizzling slab of meat.

“Why are you first?” he asked.

“Because I’ve been waiting all day, and can’t move.”

Yeah, if her foot was bandaged like that, it was serious.

He accepted a piece for himself.

“What are the bits on it?”

Barker said, “I glazed it in more honey and butternuts, and fried it on the rock.”

Dan took a bite. It was crunchy-sweet, salty, juicy, and exploded in his mouth.

“Oh, fuck me, that’s good.” Sweet, smoky, nutty and bacon, fucking bacon! It was too lean, and tough and chewy, but it was bacon.

The LT looked as if he were having sex. So did the others. Yeah, it was that good. The Urushu were wide-eyed and chattered excitedly.

He didn’t need to hear all the words to know what they were saying.

“If we teach them how to make bacon, we’ll gain a lot of brownie points.”

Elliott said, “Barker, if we get back, I’m putting you in for a medal.”

There were mumbling sounds all around, as everyone chewed and crunched, scarfing down the bacon.

Spencer said, “This is awesome, but a bit depressing.”

Barker said, “Yeah, everything is. Reminds us of home.”

“Not that. Well, yes, sort of. We know coffee and chocolate exist. All we have to do is walk to Africa, or get to the damned ocean and sail five thousand miles. Hot peppers, too. But we can’t possibly develop proper grains in our lifetime. We’ll never see bread, sugar, modern fruit.”

Dan said, “We have bacon. Your argument is invalid.”

Spencer shrugged. “And it’s good bacon. But dammit, we need the lettuce, tomato and bread.”

Barker said, “I’ll settle for buttered mushrooms. Which we can do.”

“Yeah, that’s a good project.”

“I guess that’s mine,” Caswell said. “We had rice cakes at their village, though. Now bacon. We may attain civilization yet.”

“Rice cakes?”

“Rice and acorn flour, with salt and animal fat.”

“That sounds . . . good.”

Dan said, “We’ll work on it. They agreed to help. I got the recipe, as you ordered.”

Ortiz moved up to the top watch. Alexander came down gingerly.

“What happened?”

“Stabbed in the foot with a stone spear. My boot is probably trash for anything other than dry weather.”

“Crap.” There was obviously a story there. He hoped to hear it soon.

Spencer asked, “How are the prisoners looking, Ramon?”

“Eating their meat and not causing trouble. They’re afraid of the big gun.”

He wondered why Ortiz and Trinidad had tied them to logs. They could certainly untie the knots, or even cut the thongs with rocks, but it would take time. This was obviously to slow down any attack.

“Good. We need to remind them we have even bigger guns inside, if need be.”

Dan said, “Once I work out some more lexicon, I can do that.” Their language was a lot more complicated than the Urushu, who seemed to have only a couple of thousand total words.

“Where are they sleeping?” he asked.

Barker said, “They have the smoke hut, and we made it clear they don’t come out except for the latrine, one at a time only.”

The bacon was suddenly a little less tasty.

After dinner, Alexander showed off her new toy. She’d made what she called a drop spindle. It wasn’t fast, but how it worked was pretty obvious. It did spin yarn. It was going to take a lot of such yarn to make any clothing. That, and they’d all have to take turns.

“Draw out the fibers, let them spin through your fingers at a steady rate until it’s near the ground, but don’t let it touch. Pick it up, wrap the yarn, set it here, and do another drop.”

“How efficient is this?” he asked.

“We can expect it to be a full time job for someone eventually, shearing, retting plant fibers, washing, spinning. We have a loom in progress.” She pointed at a rough frame. “Then the fabric has to be washed in strong urine, dyed if we wish, and washed and dried. Then we have to sew it.”

“But you know how to do all that, yes?”

“So do I,” Spencer said. “It’s not that hard for the basics. But I have no idea how to weave twills and such. I always wanted to learn. I guess we have time.”

She said, “You can do it slowly while on watch. It’ll keep your hands busy and help you stay awake.”

Trinidad asked, “So does our diplomatic party know how the Urushu are doing?”

Caswell said, “Largely intact. Few actually died. The women and surviving children are glad to be reunited. We’re held in high regard.”

“Do they want more from our spirits or magic?” he asked.

Dalton took lead. “They aren’t really interested in our weapons or gear, actually. They want gifts, but they don’t want to learn how to use them.”

“How do you know that?”

“This time they weren’t interested in our devices at all. It was sort of ‘oh, neat, gotta go.’ It’s our magic and unless our spirits agree, they’re not interested.”

Dan said, “They put it that obviously our spirits were strong and should be abided. They asked about them. They did ask about a rifle, though.”

Spencer said, “What did you tell them?”

“That the workings of our thunderspears are magic that only our wizards know. Which is true. I’m no chemist.”

“What were the subjects of conversation, then?”

“Uh . . .”

Dalton said, “Since they asked, I told them about the scripture. I showed them my New Testament and explained the marks were drawings.”

Spencer said, “Dude, not cool. At all.”

Elliott said, “Anything like that should be avoided. We can’t share that.”

“Hell, Caswell was trying to teach them feminism. I figure they’re smart enough to listen and decide what they need to know.”

And here it came.

Caswell said, “I was teaching them that division of labor is useful, but doesn’t have to be along gender lines.”

“Oh, dammit,” Spencer said.

Elliott held up a hand.

“Okay, we need diplomacy and calm thoughts, Sergeant Spencer.” He turned. “Now, yes, if they ask, you can answer questions, vaguely, in context, in reference to yourself, and not as absolutes. I’m going to recommend against any specific scripture.”

“Sir, from an ecclesiastical point of view, they’re ignorant of the word of God. Their souls will be better with knowledge.”

“I knew that’s where you were going. I’ve been a lay aide for my church. But if you give them partial knowledge, you run the risk of them creating a creole religion, and expose them to potential punishment, since they are aware of the Word.”

“I don’t think God would hold that against them, sir.”

“Probably not. In which case, their ignorance is fine, too. If God wanted them to know, he’d have arranged for it.”

“Well, maybe he has.”

“Maybe. But now is not the time.” Dalton looked to protest, and Elliott raised a hand again. “No, that’s an order. Caswell, what did you say?”

“Sir, I only said they should continue as they are, with people fitting the roles they do best in. I suggested one young man had fantastic visual color separation and would be great with berries and roots, among other things. In exchange, they showed me some more plants, including wild rice in the river.”

“That sounds less dangerous, but we have no idea what effect any of this could have on our future.”

Devereaux spoke up, “I think we’re pretty well fucked on that, sir, pardon me, because of the damned trucks. But minimizing the rest is probably good.”

Dalton said, “Respectfully, sir, we have to spend the rest of our lives here. I’ve accepted this.”

“It seems probable, but we have nothing to base that on.”

Dalton said, “I know when prayer is working, sir. It’s working for this. We’re here.”

Spencer stood up and hurried away, and Dan didn’t think it was to whiz.

Elliott said, “Until the year is up, we’re calling that we’re lost on deployment. You will please abide by SOP.”

“Yes, sir.” Dalton didn’t sound happy, and he wasn’t arguing, but yeah, the man talked about religion constantly. Dan had gotten an earful himself.

Elliott said, “Oglesby, how much did you translate for him?”

And here it came, round two.

Not looking at Dalton, he very carefully said, “Sir, with regard to your instructions, I told them we had numerous spirits, each of us picked our own, but once we had picked them we were bound to them, and couldn’t change without a lot of meditation and purification. I said that the three of us had similar spirits that we saw in different lights, and that two of us here had completely different spirits altogether. But, that our spirits all commanded us to get along when we could. We are allowed to defend ourselves and others, and help the weak, but we should resolve things through strength and thought first.”

Dalton said, “That’s exactly what I said.”

Dan said, “I did not translate any mention of God or Jesus, or any of the books. The conversation took most of an afternoon.”

“But they asked questions back about Christ,” Dalton said, looking confused.

“Yeah, I made those up. Sorry.” He was sorry, a little. And embarrassed. But dammit, he’d been on the spot, and they’d all been briefed on this predeployment, and he’d had reminders of it at DLI.

“Bu—”

Alexander snickered up above.

Elliott said, “And I should have had the debrief in private. I’m sorry to everyone. So let’s stick to what we worked out between us.”

Caswell said, “They know other seasonal plants and are willing to help us find them. They can smoke meat for winter, and hunt fresh as well. They spoke about a few roots, but I gather they get mostly meat and a few gathered nuts. The rice is seasonal and takes a lot of wading. They put on fat in fall from fruit, because that’s the best starch they get. I’m deducing that, of course, since they don’t grasp biology.”

“Good.”

Barker said, “Indians used canoes and a beating stick to gather rice. We need a canoe.”

“Beech bark?” Elliott asked. “I don’t see much birch.”

“Or pitch-soaked reeds, or hides.”

Dan said, “They’re willing to swap Doc’s attention and more knowledge on building and tools for them doing labor here. I said we’d ask you. They also feel a debt over saving the women. Their greetings were . . . public and enthusiastic.” Hell, three others had tried to molest him in the open.

Elliott said, “The labor is definitely useful. We can discuss that on our next swap.”

Caswell said, “Sir, I took the liberty of saying they could bring up to three ill people in a day or so, and ten people to work.”

The LT said, “Okay. We’ll do it by ear, depending on what the spirits say. I think the spirits will be flighty and not allow it every day.”

“They want to learn how to suture. They have a vague knowledge, but Doc’s stitching is neater.”

Devereaux said, “I’m not sure what they can do with bone slivers and sinew. But we can teach them to boil water.”

Ortiz said, “Isn’t modern procedure beyond them?”

Spencer said, “Boiled medical tools go back at least as far as Philip of Macedon.”

“Interesting. I didn’t see much of it in Africa.”

“Yeah, and I don’t know why that is. But it’s not new.”

“Well,” Ortiz added, “It might help if I showed them animal techniques. Those are a little cruder than Doc’s, but should work.”

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