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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/19158-h.zip b/19158-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..511cd76 --- /dev/null +++ b/19158-h.zip diff --git a/19158-h/19158-h.htm b/19158-h/19158-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dbbd8fb --- /dev/null +++ b/19158-h/19158-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2118 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Return, by H. Beam Piper and John J. McGuire + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + .tr {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; margin-top: 5%; margin-bottom: 5%; padding: 2em; background-color: #f6f2f2; color: black; border: solid black 1px;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } +.center {text-align: center;} +.u { text-decoration: underline; } + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +Project Gutenberg's The Return, by H. Beam Piper and John J. McGuire + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Return + +Author: H. Beam Piper and John J. McGuire + +Release Date: September 1, 2006 [EBook #19158] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RETURN *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto" cellpadding="4" border="3"> +<tr> +<td> +THERE IS AN ILLUSTRATED EDITION OF THIS TITLE WHICH MAY VIEWED AT EBOOK <big><b><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/18855"> +[# 18855 ]</a></b></big> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + + + +<div class="tr"><p class="center">Transcriber's Note:</p> + +<p>This etext was produced from The Science-Fictional Sherlock Holmes, 1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.</p> +</div> + + + +<h1>THE RETURN</h1> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>by</h3> +<p> </p> + +<h2>H. Beam Piper and John J. McGuire</h2> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>I</h2> + + +<p>Altamont cast a quick, routine glance at the instrument panels +and then looked down through the transparent nose of the +helicopter at the yellow-brown river five hundred feet below. +Next he scraped the last morsel from his plate and ate it.</p> + +<p>"What did you make this out of, Jim?" he asked. "I hope you kept +notes while you were concocting it. It's good."</p> + +<p>"The two smoked pork chops left over from yesterday evening," +Loudons said, "and that bowl of rice that's been taking up space +in the refrigerator the last couple of days, together with a +little egg powder and some milk. I ground the chops up and mixed +them with the rice and other stuff. Then added some bacon, to +make grease to fry it in."</p> + +<p>Altamont chuckled. That was Loudons, all right: he could take a +few left-overs, mess them together, pop them in the skillet, and +have a meal that would turn the chef back at the Fort green with +envy. He filled his cup and offered the pot.</p> + +<p>"Caffchoc?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Loudons held his cup out to be filled, blew on it, sipped, and +then hunted on the ledge under the desk for the butt of the cigar +he had half-smoked the evening before.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever drink coffee, Monty?" the socio-psychologist asked, +getting the cigar drawing to his taste.</p> + +<p>"Coffee? No. I've read about it, of course. We'll have to +organize an expedition to Brazil, sometime, to get seeds and try +raising some."</p> + +<p>Loudons blew a smoke ring toward the rear of the cabin.</p> + +<p>"A much overrated beverage," he replied. "We found some, once, +when I was on that expedition into Idaho, in what must have been +the stockroom of a hotel. Vacuum-packed in moisture-proof +containers, and free from radioactivity. It wasn't nearly as good +as caffchoc.</p> + +<p>"But then, I suppose, a pre-bustup coffee drinker couldn't +stomach this stuff we're drinking."</p> + +<p>Loudons looked forward, up the river they were following. "Get +anything on the radio?" he asked. "I noticed you took us up to +about ten thousand, while I was shaving."</p> + +<p>Altamont got out his pipe and tobacco pouch, filling the former +slowly and carefully.</p> + +<p>"Not a whisper. I tried Colony Three, in the Ozarks, and I tried +to call in that tribe of workers in Louisiana. I couldn't get +either."</p> + +<p>"Maybe if we tried to get a little more power on the set...."</p> + +<p>That was Loudons, too, Altamont thought. There wasn't a better +man at the Fort, when it came to dealing with people. But +confront him with a problem about things and he was lost.</p> + +<p>That was one of the reasons why he and the stocky, phlegmatic +social scientist made such a good team, he thought. As far as he, +himself, was concerned, people were just a mysterious, +exasperatingly unpredictable order of things which were subject +to no known natural laws.</p> + +<p>And Loudons thought the same thing about machines: he couldn't +psychoanalyze them.</p> + +<p>Altamont gestured with his pipe toward the nuclear-electric +conversion unit, between the control-cabin and the living +quarters in the rear of the boxcar-sized helicopter.</p> + +<p>"We have enough power back there to keep this windmill in the air +twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a +year, for the next fifteen years," he said. "We just don't have +enough radio. If I'd step up the power on this set any more, it'd +burn out before I could say, 'Altamont calling Fort Ridgeway.'"</p> + +<p>"How far are we from Pittsburgh now?" Loudons wanted to know.</p> + +<p>Altamont looked across the cabin at the big map of the United +States as they had been, the red and green and blue and yellow +patchwork of vanished political divisions. The colors gleamed +through the transparent overlay on which this voyage of +re-discovery was plotted.</p> + +<p>The red line of their journey started at Fort Ridgeway, in what +had been Arizona. It angled east by a little north, to Colony +Three, in northern Arkansas ... sharply northeast to St. Louis +and its lifeless ruins ... then to Chicago and Gary, where little +bands of Stone Age reversions stalked and fought and ate each +other ... Detroit, where things that had completely forgotten +they were human emerged from their burrows only at night ... +Cleveland, where a couple of cobalt bombs must have landed in the +lake and drenched everything with radioactivity that still +lingered after two centuries ... Akron, where vegetation was only +beginning to break through the glassy slag ... Cincinnati, where +they had last stopped....</p> + +<p>"How's the leg this morning, Jim?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Little stiff. Doesn't hurt much, though."</p> + +<p>"Why, we're about fifty miles, as we follow that river, and +that's relatively straight." He looked down through the +transparent nose of the copter at a town, now choked with trees +that grew among the tumbled walls. "I think that's Aliquippa."</p> + +<p>Loudons looked and shrugged, then looked again and pointed.</p> + +<p>"There's a bear. Just ducked into that church or movie theater or +whatever. I wonder what he thinks we are."</p> + +<p>Altamont puffed slowly at his pipe. "I wonder if we're going to +find anything at all in Pittsburgh."</p> + +<p>"You mean people, as distinct from those biped beasts we've found +so far? I doubt it," Loudons replied, finishing his caffchoc and +wiping his mustache with the back of his hand. "I think the whole +eastern half of the country is nothing but forest like this, and +the highest type of life is just about three cuts below Homo +Neanderthalensis, almost impossible to contact, and even more +impossible to educate."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't thinking about that. I've just about given up hope of +finding anybody or even a reasonably high level of barbarism," +Altamont said. "I was thinking about that cache of microfilmed +books that was buried at the Carnegie Library."</p> + +<p>"<span class="u">If</span> it was buried," Loudons qualified. "All we have is that +article in that two-century-old copy of <span class="u">Time</span> about how the +people at the library had constructed the crypt and were +beginning the microfilming. We don't know if they ever had a +chance to get it finished, before the rockets started landing."</p> + +<p>They passed over a dam of flotsam that had banked up at a +wrecked bridge and accumulated enough mass to resist the periodic +floods that had kept the river usually clear. Three human figures +fled across a sand-flat at one end of it and disappeared into the +woods. Two of them carried spears tipped with something that +sparkled in the sunlight, probably shards of glass.</p> + +<p>"You know, Monty, I get nightmares, sometimes, thinking about +what things must be like in Europe," Loudons said.</p> + +<p>Five or six wild cows went crashing through the brush below. +Altamont nodded when he saw them.</p> + +<p>"Maybe tomorrow, we'll let down and shoot a cow," he said. "I was +looking in the freeze-locker and the fresh meat's getting a +little low. Or a wild pig, if we find a good stand of oak trees. +I could enjoy what you'd do with some acorn-fed pork."</p> + +<p>He looked across the table. "Finished?" he asked Loudons. "Take +over, then. I'll go back and wash the dishes."</p> + +<p>They rose, and Loudons, favoring his left leg, moved over to the +seat at the controls.</p> + +<p>Altamont gathered up the two cups, the stainless-steel dishes, +and the knives and the forks and spoons, going up the steps over +the shielded converter and ducking his head to avoid the seat in +the forward top machine-gun turret. He washed and dried the +dishes, noting with satisfaction that the gauge of the water tank +was still reasonably high, and glanced out one of the windows. +Loudons was taking the big helicopter upstairs, for a better +view.</p> + +<p>Now and then, among the trees, there would be a glint of glassy +slag, usually in a fairly small circle. That was to be expected: +beside the three or four H-bombs that had fallen on the +Pittsburgh area, mentioned in the transcripts of the last news to +reach the Fort from the outside, the whole district had been +pelted, more or less at random, with fission bombs.</p> + +<p>West of the confluence of the Allegheny and the Monongahela, it +would probably be worse than this.</p> + +<p>"Can you see Pittsburgh yet, Jim?" he called out.</p> + +<p>"Yes, it's a mess! Worse than Gary, worse than Akron even."</p> + +<p>"Monty! Come here! I think I have something!"</p> + +<p>Picking up the pipe he had laid down, Altamont hurried forward, +dodging his six-foot length under the gun turret and swinging +down from the walkway over the converter.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Smoke. A lot of smoke, twenty or thirty fires at the very +least."</p> + +<p>Loudons had shifted from Forward to Hover and was peering through +a pair of binoculars. "See that island, the long one? Across the +river from it, on the north side, toward this end. Yes, by +Einstein! And I can see cleared ground, and what I think are +houses, inside a stockade...."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>II</h2> + + +<p>Murray Hughes walked around the corner of the cabin into the +morning sunlight, lacing his trousers, with his hunting shirt +thrown over his bare shoulders. He found, without much surprise, +that his father had also slept late. Verner Hughes was just +beginning to shave.</p> + +<p>Inside the kitchen, his mother and the girls were clattering pots +and skillets.</p> + +<p>Outside the kitchen door, his younger brother, Hector, was +noisily chopping wood.</p> + +<p>Going through the door, he filled another of the light-metal +basins with hot water, found his razor, and went outside again, +setting the basin on the bench.</p> + +<p>Most of the ware in the Hughes cabin was of light-metal. Murray +and his father had mined it in the dead city up the river, from a +place where it had floated to the top of a puddle of slag, back +when the city had been blasted, at the end of the hard times.</p> + +<p>It had been hard work, but the stuff had been easy to carry down +to where they had hidden their boat. And, for once, they'd had no +trouble with the Scowrers.</p> + +<p>Too bad they couldn't say as much for yesterday's hunting trip!</p> + +<p>As he rubbed lather into the stubble on his face, he cursed with +irritation. That had been a bad-luck hunt, all around.</p> + +<p>They had gone out before dawn, hunting into the hills to the +north. They'd spent the day at it, and shot one small wild pig. +Lucky it was small, at that. They'd have had to abandon a +full-grown one, after the Scowrers had began hunting them. Six of +them, as big a band as he'd ever seen together at one time, had +managed to cut them off from the stockade. He and his father had +been forced to circle miles out of their way.</p> + +<p>His father had shot one, and he'd had to leave his hatchet +sticking in the skull of another, when his rifle had misfired.</p> + +<p>That meant a trip to the gunsmith's, for a new hatchet and to +have the mainspring of the rifle replaced. Nobody could afford to +have a rifle that couldn't be trusted, least of all a hunter and +prospector.</p> + +<p>On top of everything else, he had had a few words with Alex +Barrett, the gunsmith, the other day.</p> + +<p>Well, at least that could be smoothed over. Barrett would be glad +to do business with him, once the gunsmith saw that hard +tool-steel he had dug out of that place down the river. Hardest +steel either he or his father had ever found, and it hadn't been +atom-spoiled, either.</p> + +<p>He cleaned, wiped and stropped his razor and put it back in the +case. He threw out the wash-water on the compost pile and went +into the cabin, putting on his shirt and his belt. Then he passed +through to the front porch, where his father was already eating +at the table.</p> + +<p>The people of the Toon like to eat in the open. It was something +they'd always done, just as they'd always like to eat together in +the evenings.</p> + +<p>He sweetened his cup of chicory with a lump of maple sugar and +began to sip it before he sat down, standing with one foot on the +bench and looking down across the parade ground, past the +Aitch-Cue House, toward the river and the wall.</p> + +<p>"If you're coming around to Alex's way of thinking—and mine—it +won't hurt you to admit it, son," his father said.</p> + +<p>Murray turned, looking at his father with the beginning of anger, +and then he grinned. The elders were constantly keeping the young +men alert with these tests. He checked back over his actions +since he had come out onto the porch.</p> + +<p>... to the table, sugar in his chicory, one foot on the bench ... +which had reminded him again of the absence of the hatchet from +his belt and brought an automatic frown ... then the glance +toward the gunsmith's shop, and across the parade ground ... the +glance including the houses into which so much labor had gone, +the wall that had been built from rubble and topped with pointed +stakes, the white slabs of marble that marked the graves of the +First Tenant and the men of the Old Toon....</p> + +<p>He had thought, at that moment, that maybe his father and Alex +Barrett and Reader Rawson and Tenant Mycroft Jones and the others +were right: there were too many things here that could not be +moved along with them, if they decided to move.</p> + +<p>It would be false modesty, refusal to see things as they were, +not to admit that he was the leader of the younger men, and the +boys of the Irregulars. He had been forced to face the +responsibilities of that fact since last winter.</p> + +<p>Then, the usual theological arguments about the proper order of +the Sacred Books and the true nature of the Risen One had been +replaced by a violent controversy when Sholto Jiminez and Birdy +Edwards had reopened the old question of the advisability of +moving the Toon and settling elsewhere.</p> + +<p>He had been in favor of the idea himself and found that the other +young men had followed his lead. But, for the last month or so, +he had begun to doubt the wisdom of it.</p> + +<p>It was probably reluctance to admit this to himself that had +brought on the strained feelings between himself and his old +friend, the gunsmith.</p> + +<p>"I'll have to drill the Irregulars, today," he said. "Birdy +Edwards has been drilling them while we've been hunting. But I'll +go up and see Alex about a new hatchet and fixing my rifle. I'll +have a talk with him."</p> + +<p>He stepped forward to the edge of the porch, still munching on a +honey-dipped piece of cornbread, and glanced up at the sky. That +was a queer bird; he had never seen a bird with a wing action +like that.</p> + +<p>Then he realized that the object was not a bird at all.</p> + +<p>His father was staring at it, too.</p> + +<p>"Murray! That's ... that's like the old stories from the time of +the wars!"</p> + +<p>But Murray was already racing across the parade ground toward the +Aitch-Cue House, where the big iron ring hung by its chain from a +gallows-like post, with a hammer beside it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>III</h2> + + +<p>The stockaded village became larger, details grew plainer, as the +helicopter came slanting down and began spiraling around it.</p> + +<p>It was a fairly big place, some forty or fifty acres in a rough +parallelogram, surrounded by a wall of varicolored stone and +brick and concrete rubble from old ruins, topped with a palisade +of pointed poles. There was a small jetty projecting into the +river, to which six or eight boats of different sorts were tied; +a gate opened onto this from the wall.</p> + +<p>Inside the stockade, there were close to a hundred buildings, +ranging from small cabins to a structure with a belfry. It seemed +to have been a church, partly ruined in the war of two centuries +ago and later rebuilt.</p> + +<p>A stream came down from the woods, across the cultivated land +around the fortified village. There was a rough flume which +carried the water from a dam close to the edge of the forest and +provided a fall to turn a mill wheel.</p> + +<p>"Look, strip farming," Loudons pointed. "See the alternate strips +of grass and plowed ground. These people understand soil +conservation.</p> + +<p>"They have horses, too."</p> + +<p>As he spoke, three riders left the village at a gallop. They +separated, and the people in the fields, who had all started for +the village, turned and began hurrying toward the woods. Two of +the riders headed for a pasture in which cattle had been grazing +and started herding them also into the woods.</p> + +<p>For a while, there was a scurrying of little figures in the +village below. Then, not a moving thing was in sight.</p> + +<p>"There's good organization," Loudons said. "Everybody seems to +know what to do, and how to get it done promptly. And look how +neat the whole place is. Policed up. I'll bet anything we'll find +that they have a military organization, or a military tradition +at least.</p> + +<p>"We'll have a lot to find out: you can't understand a people +until you understand their background and their social +organization."</p> + +<p>"Humph. Let me have a look at their artifacts: that will tell +what kind of people they are," Altamont said, swinging the +glasses back and forth over the enclosure. "Water-power mill, +water-power sawmill—building on the left side of the water +wheel, see the pile of fresh lumber beside it. Blacksmith shop, +and from that chimney, I'd say a small foundry, too.</p> + +<p>"Wonder what that little building out on the tip of the island +is, it has a water wheel too. Undershot wheel, and it looks like +it could be raised or lowered. Now, I wonder...."</p> + +<p>"Monty, I think we ought to land right in the middle of the +enclosure, on that open plaza thing, in front of the building +that looks like a reconditioned church. That's probably the Royal +Palace, or the Pentagon, or the Kremlin, or whatever."</p> + +<p>Altamont started to object, paused, and then nodded. "I think +you're right, Jim. From the way they scattered, and got their +livestock into the woods, they probably expect us to bomb them. +We have to get inside and that's the quickest way to do it." He +thought for a moment. "We'd better be armed, when we go out. +Pistols, auto-carbines, and a few of those concussion-grenades in +case we have to break up a concerted attack. I'll get them."</p> + +<p>The plaza, the houses and the cabins around it, the +two-hundred-year-old church, all were silent and apparently +lifeless as they set the helicopter down. Once Loudons caught a +movement inside the door of a house, and saw a metallic glint.</p> + +<p>"There's a gun up there," he said. "Looks like a four-pounder. +Brass. I knew that smith-shop was also a foundry. See that little +curl of smoke? That's the gunner's slow-match.</p> + +<p>"I'd thought maybe that thing on the island was a powder mill. +That would be where they'd put it. Probably extract their niter +from the dung of their horses and cows. Sulfur probably from +coal-mine drainage.</p> + +<p>"Jim, this is really something!"</p> + +<p>"I hope they don't cut loose with that thing," Loudons said, +looking apprehensively at the brass-rimmed black muzzle that was +covering them from the belfry. "I wonder if we ought to—Oh-oh, +here they come!"</p> + +<p>Three or four young men stepped out of the wide door of the old +church. They wore fringed buckskin trousers and buckskin shirts +and odd caps of deerskin with visors to shade the eyes and +similar beaks behind to protect the neck. They had powder horns +and bullet pouches slung over their shoulders, and long rifles in +their hands. They stepped aside as soon as they were out. +Carefully avoiding any gesture of menace, they simply stood, +watching the helicopter which had landed in their village.</p> + +<p>Three other men followed them out. They, too, wore buckskins and +the odd double-visored caps. One had a close-cropped white beard, +and on the shoulders of his buckskin shirt, he wore the single +silver bars of a first lieutenant of the vanished United States +Army. He had a pistol on his belt. The pistol had the saw-handle +grip of an automatic, but it was a flintlock, as were the rifles +of the young men who stood so watchfully on either side of the +door.</p> + +<p>Two middle-aged men accompanied the bearded man and the trio +advanced toward the helicopter.</p> + +<p>"All right, come on, Monty."</p> + +<p>Loudons opened the door and let down the steps. Picking up an +auto-carbine, he slung it and stepped out of the helicopter, +Altamont behind him. They advanced to meet the party from the +church, halting when they were about twenty feet apart.</p> + +<p>"I must apologize, lieutenant, for dropping in on you so +unceremoniously."</p> + +<p>Loudons stopped, wondering if the man with the white beard +understood a word of what he was saying.</p> + +<p>"The natural way to come in, when you travel in the air," the old +man replied. "At least, you came in openly. I can promise you a +better reception than that you got at the city to the west of us +a couple of days ago."</p> + +<p>"Now how did you know that we had trouble the +day-before-yesterday?" Loudons demanded.</p> + +<p>The old man's eyes sparkled with child-like pleasure. "That +surprises you, my dear sir? In a moment, I daresay you'll be +surprised at the simplicity of it.</p> + +<p>"You have a nasty rip in the left leg of your trousers, and the +cloth around it is stained with blood. Through the rip, I +perceive a bandage. Obviously, you have suffered a recent wound. +I further observe that the side of your flying machine bears +recent scratches, as though from the spears or throwing hatchets +of the Scowrers. Evidently, they attacked you as you were +landing. It is fortunate that these cannibal devils are too +stupid and too anxious for human flesh to exercise patience."</p> + +<p>"Well, that explains how you knew that we'd recently been +attacked," Loudons told him. "But how did you guess that it had +been to the west of here, in a ruined city?"</p> + +<p>"I never guess," the oldster with the silver bar and the +keystone-shaped red patch on his left shoulder replied. "It is a +shocking habit—destructive to the logical faculties. What seems +strange to you is only so because you do not follow my train of +thought.</p> + +<p>"For example, the wheels and their framework under your flying +machine are splashed with mud which seems to be predominantly +brick-dust, mixed with plaster. Obviously, you landed recently in +a dead city, either during or after a rain. There was a rain here +yesterday evening, the wind being from the west. Obviously, you +followed behind the rain as it came up the river. And now that I +look at your boots, I see traces of the same sort of mud, around +the soles and in front of the heels.</p> + +<p>"But this is heartless of us, keeping you standing here on a +wounded leg, sir. Come in, and let our medic take a look at it."</p> + +<p>"Well, thank you, lieutenant," Loudons replied. "But don't bother +your medic. I've attended to the wound myself, and it wasn't +serious to begin with."</p> + +<p>"You are a doctor?" the white-haired man asked.</p> + +<p>"Of sorts. A sort of general scientist. My name is Loudons. My +friend, Mr. Altamont, here, is a scientist, too."</p> + +<p>There was an immediate reaction: all three of the elders of the +village, and the young riflemen who had accompanied them, +exchanged glances of surprise.</p> + +<p>Loudons dropped his hand to the grip of his slung auto-carbine +and Altamont sidled away from his partner, his hand moving as if +by accident toward the butt of his pistol. The same thought was +in both men's minds, that these people might feel, as the +heritage of the war of two centuries ago, a hostility to science +and scientists.</p> + +<p>There was no hostility, however, in their manner as the old man +came forward with outstretched hand.</p> + +<p>"I am Tenant Mycroft Jones, the Toon Leader here," he said. "This +is Stamford Rawson, our Reader, and Verner Hughes, our Toon +Sarge. This is his son, Murray Hughes, the Toon Sarge of the +Irregulars.</p> + +<p>"But come into the Aitch-Cue House, gentlemen. We have much to +talk about."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>By this time, the villagers had begun to emerge from the log +cabins and rubble-walled houses around the plaza and the old +church. Some of them, mostly the young men, were carrying rifles, +but the majority were unarmed. About half of them were women, in +short deerskin skirts or homespun dresses. There were a number of +children, the younger ones almost completely naked.</p> + +<p>"Sarge," the old man told one of the youths, "post a guard over +this flying machine. Don't let anybody meddle with it. And have +all the noncoms and techs report here, on the double." He turned +and shouted up at the truncated steeple: "Atherton, sound 'All +Clear!'"</p> + +<p>A horn up in the belfry began blowing, apparently to advise the +people who had run from the fields into the forest that there was +no danger.</p> + +<p>They went through the open doorway of the old stone church and +entered the big room inside. The building had evidently once been +gutted by fire, two centuries ago, but portions of the wall had +been restored. The floor had been replaced by one of rough +planks, and there was a plank ceiling at about ten feet.</p> + +<p>The room was apparently used as a community center. There were a +number of benches and chairs, all very neatly made; and along one +wall, out of the way, ten or fifteen long tables had been +stacked, the tops in a pile and the trestles on the tops.</p> + +<p>The walls were decorated with trophies of weapons—a number of +M-12 rifles and M-16 submachine-guns, all in good, clean +condition; a light machine rifle; two bazookas. Among them were +cruder weapons, stone-and metal-tipped spears and clubs, the work +of the wild men of the woods.</p> + +<p>A stairway led to the second floor, and it was up this stairway +that the man who bore the title of Toon Leader conducted them, to +a small room furnished with a long table, a number of chairs, and +several big wooden chests bound with iron.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, gentlemen," the Toon Leader invited, going to a +cupboard and producing a large bottle stoppered with a corncob +and a number of small cups.</p> + +<p>"It's a little early in the day," he went on, "but this is a very +special occasion.</p> + +<p>"You smoke a pipe, I take it?" he asked Altamont. "Then try some +of this, of our own growth and curing."</p> + +<p>He extended a doeskin moccasin, which seemed to be the tobacco +container.</p> + +<p>Altamont looked at the thing dubiously, then filled his pipe from +it.</p> + +<p>The oldster drew his pistol, pushed a little wooden plug into the +vent, added some tow to the priming, and, aiming at the wall, +snapped it. Evidently, at time the formality of plugging the vent +had been overlooked: there were a number of holes in the wall +there.</p> + +<p>This time, however, the pistol didn't go off. The old man shook +out the smoldering tow, blew it into flame, and lit a candle from +it, offering the light to Altamont.</p> + +<p>Loudons got out a cigar and lit it from the candle; the others +filled and lighted pipes. The Toon Leader reprimed his pistol, +then holstered it, took off his belt and laid it aside, an +example the others followed.</p> + +<p>They drank ceremoniously, and then seated themselves at the +table. As they did, two more men entered the room. They were +introduced as Alexander Barrett, the gunsmith and Stanley +Markovitch, the distiller.</p> + +<p>The Toon Leader began by asking, "You come, then, from the west?"</p> + +<p>"Are you from Utah?" the gunsmith interrupted, suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"Why, no, we're from Arizona. A place called Fort Ridgeway," +Loudons said.</p> + +<p>The others nodded, in the manner of people who wish to conceal +ignorance. It was obvious that none of them had ever heard of +Fort Ridgeway, or Arizona either.</p> + +<p>"You say you come from a fort? Then the wars aren't over yet?" +Sarge Hughes asked.</p> + +<p>"The wars have been over for a long time. You know how terrible +they were. You know how few in all the countries were left +alive," Loudons said.</p> + +<p>"None that we know of, beside ourselves and the Scowrers, until +you came," the Toon Leader said.</p> + +<p>"We have found only a few small groups, in the whole country, who +have managed to save anything of the Old Times. Most of them +lived in little villages and cultivated land. A few had horses or +cows. None, that we have ever found before, made guns and powder +for themselves. But they remembered that they were men, and did +not eat one another.</p> + +<p>"Whenever we find a group of people like this, we try to persuade +them to let us help them."</p> + +<p>"Why?" the Toon Leader asked. "Why do you do this for people that +you have never met before? What do you want from them—from +us—in return for your help?"</p> + +<p>He was speaking to Altamont, rather than to Loudons. It seemed +obvious that he believed Altamont to be the leader and Loudons +the subordinate.</p> + +<p>"Because we are trying to bring back the best of the Old Times," +Altamont told him. "Look, you have had troubles, here. So have +we, many times. Years when the crops didn't ... didn't...." He +looked at Loudons, aware that his partner should be talking now, +and also suddenly aware that Loudons had recognized the situation +and left the leadership up to him....</p> + +<p>"... years that the crops failed. Years of storms, or floods. +Troubles with those beast-men in the woods.</p> + +<p>"And you were alone, as we were, with no one to help.</p> + +<p>"We want to put all men who are still men in touch with one +another, so that they can help each other in trouble, and work +together.</p> + +<p>"If this isn't done, everything that makes men different from +beasts will soon be no more."</p> + +<p>"He's right. One of us, alone, is helpless," the Reader said. "It +is only in the Toon that there is strength. He wants to organize +a Toon of all Toons."</p> + +<p>"That's about it. We are beginning to make helicopters, like the +one Loudons and I came in. We'll furnish your community with one +or more of them. We can give you a radio, so that you can +communicate with other communities. We can give you rifles and +machine guns and ammunition, to fight the—the Scowrers, did you +call them? And we can give you atomic engines, so that you can +build machines for yourselves."</p> + +<p>"Some of our people,—Alex Barrett here, the gunsmith, and Stan +Markovitch, the distiller, and Harrison Grant, the +iron-worker—get their living by making things. How'd they make +out, after your machines came in here?" Verner Hughes asked.</p> + +<p>"We've thought of that. We had that problem with other groups +we've helped," Loudons said. "In some communities, everybody owns +everything in common and so we don't have much of a problem. Is +that the way you do it, here?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no. If a man makes a thing, or digs it out of the ruins, +or catches it in the woods, it's his."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll work out some way. Give the machines to the people +who are already in a trade, or something like that. We'll have to +talk it over with you and with the people concerned."</p> + +<p>"How is it you took so long finding us?" Alex Barrett asked. +"It's been two hundred or so years since the Wars."</p> + +<p>"Alex! You see but you do not observe!" The Toon Leader rebuked. +"These people have their flying machines, which are highly +complicated mechanisms. They would have to make tools and +machines to make them, and tools and machines to make those tools +and machines. They would have to find materials, often going in +search of them. The marvel is not that they took so long, but +that they did it so quickly."</p> + +<p>"That's right," Altamont said. "Originally, Fort Ridgeway was a +military research and development center. As the country became +disorganized, the Government set this project up to develop ways +of improvising power and transportation and communication methods +and extracting raw materials. If they'd had a little more time, +they might have saved the country.</p> + +<p>"As it was, they were able to keep themselves alive, and keep +something like civilization going at the Fort, while the whole +country was breaking apart around them.</p> + +<p>"Then, when the rockets stopped falling, they started to rebuild. +Fortunately, more than half the technicians at the Fort were +women, so there was no question of them dying out.</p> + +<p>"But it's only been in the last twenty years that we've been able +to make nuclear-electric engines, and this is the first time any +of us have gotten east of the Mississippi."</p> + +<p>"How did your group manage to survive?" Loudons asked. "You call +it the Toon. I suppose that's what the word platoon has become, +with time. You were, originally, a military platoon?"</p> + +<p>"<span class="u">Pla</span>-toon!" the white-bearded man said. "Of all the unpardonable +stupidities! Of course that's what it was. And the title, Tenant, +was originally lieu-tenant. I know that, though we have dropped +all use of the first part of the word. But that should have led +me, if I had used my wits, to deduce platoon from toon."</p> + +<p>The Tenant shook his head in dismay at his stupidity and Loudons +found himself forced to say, "One syllable like that could have +come from many words."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IV</h2> + + +<p>The Tenant smiled at Loudons and said, "Your courtesy does not +excuse our stupidity. We know our history and we should have +identified the word accurately.</p> + +<p>"Yes, we were originally a ... a <span class="u">pla</span>-toon of soldiers, two hundred +years ago, at the time when the Wars ended. The old Toon, and the +First Tenant, were guarding POWs, and there, sir,"—to +Loudons—"is a word we cannot trace. We have no idea what they +were. In any event, the pows were all killed by a big bomb, and +the First Tenant, Lieutenant Gilbert Dunbar, took his platoon and +started to march to DeeCee, where the government was.</p> + +<p>"But there was no government any more.</p> + +<p>"They fought with people along the way. When they needed food, or +ammunition, or animals to pull their wagons, they took them, and +killed those who tried to prevent them. Other people joined the +toon, and when they found women they wanted, they took them.</p> + +<p>"They did all sorts of things that would have been crimes if +there had been any law, but since there was no law, it was +obvious that they could be no crime.</p> + +<p>"The First Ten—Lieutenant—kept his men together, because he had +The Books. Each evening, at the end of each day's march, he read +to his men out of them."</p> + +<p>Altamont knew without looking at his associate that Loudons would +be inconspicuously jotting down notes. The last was an item the +sociologist would be sure to record: the white-bearded Tenant had +pronounced that reference to a written testament in capital +letters.</p> + +<p>The story was continuing....</p> + +<p>"... finally, they came here. There had been a town here, but it +had been burned and destroyed, and there were people camping in +the ruins.</p> + +<p>"Some of them fought and were killed, others came in and joined +the platoon.</p> + +<p>"At first, they built shelters around this building and made this +their fort. Then they cleared away the ruins, and built new +houses. When the cartridges for the rifles began to get scarce, +they began to make gunpowder, and new rifles, like these we are +using now, to shoot without cartridges.</p> + +<p>"Lieutenant Dunbar did this out of his own knowledge because +there is nothing in The Books about making gunpowder. The guns in +The Books are rifles and shotguns and revolvers and airguns. +Except for the airguns, which we haven't been able to make, these +all shot cartridges.</p> + +<p>"As with your people, we did not die out because we too had +women. Neither did we increase greatly—too many died or were +killed young. But several times we've had to tear down the wall +and rebuild it, to make room inside for more houses. And we've +been clearing out a little more land for the fields each year.</p> + +<p>"We still read and follow the teachings of The Books: we have +made laws for ourselves out of them."</p> + +<p>There was a silence during which Altamont felt himself to be the +focus of attention; not obtrusively, but, nonetheless, +insistently. However, this was Loudon's field and Altamont +preferred not to speak.</p> + +<p>"And we are waiting for the Slain and Risen One," Tenant Jones +added, and there was no doubt that he was looking at Altamont +intently. "It is impossible that He will not, sooner or later, +deduce the existence of this community, if He has not done so +already."</p> + +<p>Again the silence and lack of movement, broken by Loudons this +time, when he picked up the candle to re-lit his cigar. +Mentally, Altamont thanked his partner.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir," the Toon Leader changed the subject abruptly, +"enough of this talk about the past. If I understand rightly, it +is the future in which you gentlemen are interested." He pushed +back the cuff of his hunting shirt and looked at an old and worn +wrist watch. "Eleven hundred: we'll have lunch shortly.</p> + +<p>"This afternoon, you will meet the other people of the Toon, and +this evening, at eighteen hundred, we'll have a mess together. +Then, when we have everyone together, we can talk over your offer +to help us, and decide what it is that you can give us that we +can use."</p> + +<p>"You spoke, a while ago, of what you could do for us, in return," +Altamont said. He knew that now he would have to be the one to +stress their original mission: Loudons would probably be so +fascinated by this society that the sociologist might never +remember the primary reason for coming to Pittsburgh.</p> + +<p>"There's one thing you can do, no further away than tomorrow, if +you're willing."</p> + +<p>He had no time to wonder at the interchange of glances around the +table before the Toon Leader said, "And that is—?"</p> + +<p>"In Pittsburgh, somewhere, there is an underground crypt, full of +books. Not printed and bound books, but spools of microfilm. Do +you know what that is?"</p> + +<p>The men of the Toon shook their heads. Altamont continued:</p> + +<p>"They are spools on which strips of films are wound and on which +pictures have been taken of books, page by page. We can make +other, larger pictures from them, big enough to be read—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, photographs, which you can enlarge. I can understand that. +You mean, you can make many copies of them?"</p> + +<p>"That's right. And you shall have copies, as soon as we can take +the originals back to Fort Ridgeway, where we have the equipment +for enlarging them. But while we have information which will help +us to find the crypt where the books are, we will need help in +getting it open."</p> + +<p>"Of course! This is wonderful. Copies of The Books!" the Reader +exclaimed. "We thought that we had the only one left in the +world!"</p> + +<p>"Not just The Books, Stamford, <span class="u">other</span> books," the Toon Leader +told him. "The books mentioned in The Books. But of course we +will help you. You have a map to show where they are?"</p> + +<p>"Not a map, just some information. But we can work out the +location of the crypt."</p> + +<p>"A ritual," Stamford Rawson said happily. "Of course!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>V</h2> + + +<p>They lunched together at the house of Toon Sarge Hughes with the +Toon Leader and the Reader and five or six of the leaders of the +community. The food was plentiful, but Altamont found himself +wishing that the first book they found in the Carnegie Library +crypt would be a cook-book.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon, he and Loudons separated.</p> + +<p>Loudons attached himself to the Tenant, the Reader and an old +woman, Irene Klein, who was almost a hundred years old and was +the repository and arbiter of most of the community's oral +legends.</p> + +<p>Altamont, on the other hand, started with Alex Barrett, the +gunsmith, and Mordecai Ricci, the miller, to inspect the gunshop +and the grist mill. They were later joined by a half dozen more +of the village craftsmen and so also visited the forge and +foundry, the sawmill and the wagon shop. Altamont additionally +looked at the flume, a rough structure of logs lined with sheet +aluminum; and at the nitriary, a shed-roofed pit in which +potassium nitrate was extracted from the community's animal +refuse.</p> + +<p>But he reversed matters when it came to visiting the powder mill +on the island: he became the host and took them by helicopter to +the island and then for a trip up the river.</p> + +<p>The guests were a badly-scared lot, for the first few minutes, as +they watched the ground receding under them through the +transparent plastic nose. Then, when nothing serious seemed to be +happening, exhilaration took the place of fear. By the time they +set down on the tip of the island, the eight men were confirmed +aviation enthusiasts.</p> + +<p>The trip up-river was an even bigger success, the high point +coming when Altamont set his controls for <span class="u">Hover</span>, pointed out a +snarl of driftwood in the stream, and allowed his passengers to +fire one of the machine-guns at it.</p> + +<p>The lead balls of their own black-powder rifles would have +plunked into the water-logged wood without visible effect. The +copper-jacketed machine-gun bullets ripped it to splinters.</p> + +<p>They returned for a final visit to the distillery awed by what +they had seen.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VI</h2> + + +<p>"Monty, I don't know what the devil to make of this crowd," +Loudons said, that evening, after the feast, when they had +entered the helicopter and were preparing to retire.</p> + +<p>"We've run into some weird communities—that lot down in New +Mexico who live in the church and claim that they have a divine +mission to redeem the world by prayer, fasting, and flagellation.</p> + +<p>"Or those yogis in Los Angeles—"</p> + +<p>"Or the Blackout Boys in Detroit!" Altamont interrupted. He had +good reason to remember them.</p> + +<p>"That's understandable," Loudons said, "after what their +ancestors went through in the last war. And so are the others, in +their own way.</p> + +<p>"But this crowd here!" Loudons put down his cigar and began +chewing on his mustache, a sure sign that he was more than +puzzled: he was a very worried man.</p> + +<p>Altamont respected his partner's abilities in this area. However, +he also knew that the best way to get his friend to work any +problem was to have him do it in conversation.</p> + +<p>"What has you stopped, Jim?"</p> + +<p>"Number of things, Monty. They're hard to explain because—" the +sociologist shrugged, winced a little as the gesture pushed his +leg down on the edge of his bunk—"well, let me just mention +them.</p> + +<p>"These people are the descendants of an old United States Army +platoon, yet they have a fully-developed religion centered on a +slain and resurrected god.</p> + +<p>"Now, Monty, with all due respect to the old US Army, that just +doesn't make sense! Normally, it would take <span class="u">thousands</span> of years +for a slain-god religion to develop, and then only in a special +situation, from the field-fertility magic of primitive +agriculturists.</p> + +<p>"Well, you saw those people's fields from the air. Some members +of that old platoon were men who knew the latest methods of +scientific farming. They didn't need naive fairy tales about the +planting and germination of seed."</p> + +<p>"Sure this religion isn't just a variant of Christianity?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely not!</p> + +<p>"In the first place, these Sacred Books cannot be the Bible—you +heard Tenant Jones say that they mentioned firearms that used +cartridges. That means they can't be older than 1860 at the +earliest.</p> + +<p>"And, in the second place, this slain god wasn't crucified, or +put to death by any form of execution: he perished, together with +his enemy, in combat, and both god and devil were later +resurrected."</p> + +<p>Loudons picked up his cigar again. "By the way, the Enemy is +supposed to be the master-mind back of these cannibal savages in +the woods and also in the ruins."</p> + +<p>"Did you get a look at these Sacred Books, or find out what they +might be?"</p> + +<p>Loudons shook his head disgustedly. "Every time I brought up the +question, they evaded me. The Tenant sent the Reader out to bring +in this old lady, Irene Klein—she was a perfect gold-mine of +information about the history and traditions of the platoon, by +the way—and then he sent the Reader out on some other errand, +undoubtedly to pass the word around not to talk to us about their +religion."</p> + +<p>"I don't get that," Altamont said. "They showed me +everything—their gunshop, their powder mill, their defenses, +everything."</p> + +<p>He smoked in silence for a moment, then added, in an apologetic +tone, "Jim, I'm sure you've thought of this: the slain god +couldn't be the original platoon commander, could he?"</p> + +<p>"I've thought of it, and he isn't, Monty.</p> + +<p>"No, definitely not, though they have the greatest respect for +his memory—decorate his grave regularly, drink toasts to him, +and so on. But he hasn't been deified. They got the idea for this +god of theirs out of the Sacred Books."</p> + +<p>Loudons put the cigar down again and returned to chewing his +mustache. "Monty, this has me worried like the devil:</p> + +<p>"I believe that they suspect that <span class="u">you</span> are the Slain and Risen +One!"</p> + +<p>Altamont considered the idea, then nodded slowly. "Could be, at +that. I know the Tenant came up to me, very respectfully, and +said, 'I hope you don't think, sir, that I was presumptuous in +trying to display my humble deductive abilities to <span class="u">you</span>.'"</p> + +<p>"What did you say?" Loudons demanded rather sharply.</p> + +<p>"Told him certainly not, that he'd used a good, quick method of +demonstrating that he and his people weren't like those mindless +subhumans in the woods."</p> + +<p>"That was all right," Loudons approved, but then his worries +returned. "I don't know how we're going to handle this—"</p> + +<p>"Jim, how about that pows business? Is there something there?"</p> + +<p>"Monty!" Loudons voice was drily chiding as he took a pad of +paper and scribbled briefly. "Take a look and figure for +yourself."</p> + +<p>Altamont looked at the paper. Loudons had simply printed the +first three letters of the word in capitals and separated each +letter with a period. "Ouch! Yes, of course, that's what an +infantry platoon would be guarding.</p> + +<p>"Go ahead, Jim, this is your end of our business. I'll stay out +of it and, especially, I'll keep my mouth shut."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you'll be able to," Loudons said soberly. "As +things stand now, they only suspect that you are their deity.</p> + +<p>"And that means this: we're on trial here!"</p> + +<p>"We have been in spots like this before, Jim," Altamont reminded +his friend.</p> + +<p>"Not like this, Monty, and let me explain.</p> + +<p>"I get the impression here that logic, not faith, is the supreme +religious virtue. And get this, Monty, because it's something +practically unheard of: skepticism is a religious obligation, not +a sin!</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew...."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VII</h2> + + +<p>Tenant Mycroft Jones, Reader Stamford Rawson, Toon Sarge Verner +Hughes, and his son, Murray Hughes, sat around the bare-topped +table in the room on the second floor of the Aitch-Cue House. A +lighted candle flickered in the cool breeze that came in through +the open window, throwing their shadows back and forth on the +walls.</p> + +<p>"Pass the tantalus, Murray," the Tenant said, and the youngest of +the four handed the corncob-corked bottle to the eldest. Tenant +Jones filled his cup and then sat staring at it, while Verner +Hughes thrust his pipe into the toe of the moccasin and filled +it. Finally, the Tenant drank about half the clear, wild-plum +brandy.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen, I am baffled," he confessed. "We have three alternate +possibilities here and we dare not disregard any of them.</p> + +<p>"Either this man who calls himself Altamont is truly He, or his +is merely what we are asked to believe, one of a community of men +like ours, with more of the old knowledge than we possess."</p> + +<p>"You know my views," Verner Hughes said. "I cannot believe that +He was more than a man, as we are. A great, a good, a wise man, +but a man and mortal."</p> + +<p>"Let's not go into that, now." The Reader emptied his cup and +took the bottle, filling it again. "You know my views, too. I +hold that He is no longer upon earth in the flesh, but lives in +the spirit and is only with us in the spirit.</p> + +<p>"But you said there were three possibilities, none of which can +be eliminated. What was your third possibility, Tenant?"</p> + +<p>"That they are creatures of the Enemy, perhaps that one or the +other of them is the Enemy."</p> + +<p>Reader Rawson, lifting his cup to his lips, almost strangled. The +Hugheses, father and son stared at Tenant Jones in horror.</p> + +<p>"The Enemy—with such weapons and resources!" Murray Hughes +gasped. Then he emptied his cup and refilled it. "No! I can't +believe that: he would have struck before this and wiped us all +out!"</p> + +<p>"Not necessarily, Murray," the Tenant replied. "Until he became +convinced that his agents, the Scowrers, could do nothing +against us, he would bide his time. He sits motionless, like a +spider, at the center of the web; he does little himself; his +agents are numerous.</p> + +<p>"Or, perhaps, he wishes to recruit us into this hellish +organization."</p> + +<p>"It is a possibility," the Reader admitted, "and one which we can +neither accept or reject safely. And we must learn the truth as +soon as possible. If this man is really He, we must not spurn Him +on mere suspicion. If he is a man, come to help us, we must +accept his help; if he is speaking the truth, the people who sent +him could do wonders for us, and the greatest wonder would be to +make us again a part of a civilized community.</p> + +<p>"And if he is the Enemy...." Rawson left the sentence unfinished, +but his face was grim.</p> + +<p>"But if he is really He," Murray said, a little diffidently, for +he was not yet accustomed to being included in the council of the +elders, "I think we are on trial."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, son? Oh, I see. Of course, I don't believe +that he is, but that's mere doubt, not negative certainty. +However, if I'm wrong, if this man is truly He, we are worthy of +him, we will penetrate his disguise."</p> + +<p>"A very pretty problem, gentlemen," the Tenant said, smacking his +lips over his brandy, "for all that it may be a deadly serious +one for us. There is, of course, nothing we can do tonight. But, +tomorrow, we have promised to help our visitors, whoever they may +be, in searching for this crypt in the city.</p> + +<p>"Murray, you were to be in charge of the detail that was to +accompany them. Carry on as arranged, and say nothing of our +suspicions, but advise your men to keep a sharp watch on the +strangers, that they may learn all they can from them.</p> + +<p>"Stamford, you and Verner and I will go along. We should, if we +have any wits at all, observe something."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>VIII</h2> + + +<p>"Listen to this infernal thing!" Altamont raged. "'Wielding a +gold-plated spade handled with oak from an original rafter of the +Congressional Library, at three-fifteen one afternoon last +week—' One afternoon last week!" He cursed luridly. "Why +couldn't that blasted magazine say what afternoon? I've gone over +a lot of twentieth century copies of that magazine and that +expression was a regular cliche with them."</p> + +<p>Loudons looked over his shoulder at the photostated magazine +page.</p> + +<p>"Well, we know it was between June thirteen and nineteen, +inclusive," he said. "And there's a picture of the university +president, complete with gold-plated spade, breaking ground. Call +it Wednesday, the sixteenth. Over there's the tip of the shadow +of the old Cathedral of Learning, about a hundred yards away. +There are so many inexactitudes, that one'll probably cancel out +the other."</p> + +<p>"That's so, and it's also pretty futile getting angry at somebody +who's been dead two hundred years, but why couldn't they say +Wednesday, or Monday, or Saturday, or whatever?"</p> + +<p>Monty checked back in the astronomical handbook, and the +photostated pages of the old almanac, then looked over his +calculations. "All right, here is the angle of the shadow, and +the compass-bearing.</p> + +<p>"I had a look, yesterday, when I was taking the local citizenry +on that junket. The old baseball diamond at Forbes Field is +plainly visible, and I located the ruins of the Cathedral of +Learning from that.</p> + +<p>"Here's the above-sea-level altitude of the top of the tower. +After you've landed us, go up to this altitude—use the +barometric altimeter, not the radar—and hold position."</p> + +<p>Loudons leaned forward from the desk to the contraption Altamont +had rigged up in the nose of the helicopter; one of the +telescope-sighted hunting rifles clamped in a vise, with a +compass and a spirit-level under it.</p> + +<p>"Rifle's pointing downward at the correct angle now?" he asked. +"Good. Then all I have to do is to hold the helicopter steady, +keep it at the right altitude, level and pointed in the right +direction, and watch through the sight while you move the flag +around, and direct you by radio."</p> + +<p>"Simple, if I had been born quintuplets!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Altamont! Doctor Loudons!" a voice outside the helicopter +called. "Are you ready for us now?"</p> + +<p>Altamont went to the open door and looked out. The old Toon +Leader, the Reader, Toon Sarge Hughes, his son and four young men +in buckskins with slung rifles were standing outside.</p> + +<p>"I have decided," the Tenant said, "that Mr. Rawson and Sarge +Hughes and I would be of more help than an equal number of young +men. We may not be as active, but we do know the old ruins +better, especially the paths and hiding places of the Scowrers. +These four young men you probably met last evening, but it will +do no harm to introduce them again.</p> + +<p>"Birdy Edwards; Sholto Jiminez; Jefferson Burns; Murdo Olsen."</p> + +<p>"Very pleased, Tenant, gentlemen. I met all of you young men last +evening and I remember you," Altamont said. "Now, if you'll crowd +in here, I'll explain what we're going to try to do."</p> + +<p>He showed them the old picture. "You see where the shadow of a +tall building falls?" he asked. "We know the height and location +of this building. Doctor Loudons will hold this helicopter at +exactly the position of the top of the building and aim through +the sights of the rifle, there. One of you will have this flag in +his hand, and will move it back and forth. Doctor Loudons will +tell us when the flag is in sight of the rifle."</p> + +<p>"He'll need a good pair of lungs to do that," Verner Hughes +commented.</p> + +<p>"We'll use the radio. A portable set on the ground, and the +helicopter's radio set," Altamont said.</p> + +<p>To his surprise, he was met with looks of incomprehension. He had +not supposed that these people would have lost all memory of +radio communication.</p> + +<p>"Why, that's wonderful!" the Reader exclaimed, when the +explanation was concluded. "You can talk directly. How much +better than just sending a telegram!"</p> + +<p>"But, finding the crypt by the shadow, that's exactly like the—" +Murray Hughes began, then stopped short. Immediately, he began +talking about the rifle that was to be used as a surveying +transit, comparing it with the ones in the big first-floor room +at the Aitch-Cue House.</p> + +<p>Locating the point where the shadow of the old Cathedral of +Learning had fallen proved easier than either Altamont or Loudons +had expected. The towering building was now a tumbled mass of +slagged rubble, but it was quite possible to determine its +original center, and with the old data from the excellent +reference library at Fort Ridgeway, its height above sea level +was known. After a little jockeying, the helicopter came to a +hovering stop, and the slanting barrel of the rifle in the vise +pointed downward along the line of the shadow that had been cast +on that afternoon in June, 1993.</p> + +<p>The cross-hairs of the scope sight centered almost exactly on the +spot Altamont had estimated on the map.</p> + +<p>Guiding himself by peering through the rifle-sight, Loudons +brought the helicopter slanting down to land on the sheet of +fused glass that had once been a grassy campus.</p> + +<p>"Well, this is probably it," Altamont said. "We didn't have to +bother fussing around with that flag after all. That hump over +there looks as though it had been a small building, and there's +nothing corresponding to it on the city map. That may be the +bunker over the stair-head to the crypt."</p> + +<p>They began unloading equipment—a small, portable +nuclear-electric conversion unit, a powerful solenoid-hammer, +crowbars and intrenching tools, tins of blasting plastic. They +took out the two hunting rifles and the auto-carbines, and +Altamont showed the young men of Murray Hughes' detail how to use +them.</p> + +<p>"If you will pardon me, sir," the Tenant said to Altamont, "I +think it would be a good idea if your companion went up in the +flying machine and circled over us, to keep watch for the +Scowrers. There are quite a few of them, particularly farther up +the rivers, to the east, where the damage was not so great and +they can find cellars and shelters and buildings to live in."</p> + +<p>"Good idea. That way, we won't have to put out guards," Altamont +said. "From the looks of this, we'll need every body to help dig +into that thing. Hand out one of the portable radios, Jim and go +up to about a thousand feet. If you see anything suspicious, give +us a yell, then spray it with bullets, and find out what it is +afterward."</p> + +<p>They waited until the helicopter had climbed to position and was +circling above, and then turned their attention to the place +where the sheet of fused earth and stone bulged upward. It must +have been almost ground-zero of one of the hydrogen-bombs: the +wreckage of the Cathedral of Learning had fallen predominantly to +the north, and the Carnegie Library was tumbled to the east.</p> + +<p>"I think the entrance would be on this side, toward the Library," +Altamont said. "Let's try it, to begin with."</p> + +<p>He used the solenoid-hammer, slowly pounding a hole in the glaze, +and placed a small charge of the plastic explosive. Chunks of the +lava-like stuff pelted down between the little mound and the huge +one of the old library, blowing a hole six feet in diameter and +the two and a half feet deep, revealing concrete bonded with +crushed steel-mill slag.</p> + +<p>"We missed the door," Altamont said. "That means we'll have to +tunnel in through who knows how much concrete. Well...."</p> + +<p>He used a second and larger charge, after digging a hole a foot +deep. When he and his helpers came up to look, they found a large +mass of concrete blown out, and solid steel behind it. Altamont +cut two more holes, one on either side of the blown-out place, +and fired a charge in each of them, bringing down more concrete.</p> + +<p>He found he hadn't missed the door after all. It had merely been +concreted over.</p> + +<p>A few more shots cleared it, and after some work, they got it +open. There was a room inside, concrete-floored and entirely +empty. Altamont stood in the doorway and inspected the interior +with his flashlight; he heard somebody behind him say something +about a most peculiar sort of dark-lantern.</p> + +<p>Across the small room, on the opposite wall, was a bronze plaque.</p> + +<p>The plaque carried quite a lengthy inscription, including the +names of all the persons and institutions participating in the +microfilm project. The History Department at the Fort would be +interested in that, but the only thing that interested Altamont +was the statement that the floor had been laid over the trapdoor +leading to the vault where the microfilms were stored. He went +outside to the radio.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Jim. We're inside, but the films were stored in an +underground vault, and so we have to tear up a concrete floor," +he said. "Go back to the village and gather up all the men you +can carry. I don't want to use explosives inside. The interior of +the crypt oughtn't to be damaged. Besides, I don't know what a +blast in there might do to the film, and I don't want to take any +chances."</p> + +<p>"No, of course not. How thick do you think the floor is?"</p> + +<p>"Haven't the least idea. Plenty thick, I would guess. Those films +would have to be well-buried, to shield them from radioactivity. +We can expect that it will take some time."</p> + +<p>"All right. I'll be back as soon as I can."</p> + +<p>The helicopter turned and went windmilling away, over what had +been the Golden Triangle, down the Ohio. Altamont went back to +the little concrete bunker and sat down, lighting his pipe. +Murray Hughes and his four riflemen spread out, one circling +around the glazed butte that had been the Cathedral of Learning, +another climbing to the top of the old Library, and the others +taking positions to the south and east.</p> + +<p>Altamont sat in silence, smoking his pipe and trying to form some +conception of the wealth under that concrete floor.</p> + +<p>It was no use.</p> + +<p>Jim Loudons probably understood a little more clearly what those +books would mean to the world of today, and what they could do +toward shaping the world of the future.</p> + +<p>There was a library at Fort Ridgeway, and it was an excellent one ... +for its purpose. In 1996, when the rockets had come crashing +down, it had contained the cream of the world's technical +knowledge—and very little else. There was only a little fiction, +a few books of ideas, just enough to give the survivors a +tantalizing glimpse of the world of their fathers.</p> + +<p>But now....</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>A rifle banged to the south and east, and banged again. Either +Murray Hughes or Birdy Edwards: it was one of the two hunting +rifles from the helicopter.</p> + +<p>On the heels of the reports, they heard a voice shouting, +"Scowrers! A lot of them, coming from up the river!"</p> + +<p>A moment later, there was a light whip-crack of one of the +muzzleloaders, from the top of the old Carnegie Library, and +Altamont could see a wisp of grey-white smoke drifting away from +where it had been fired.</p> + +<p>Altamont jumped to his feet and raced for the radio, picking it +up and bring it to the bunker.</p> + +<p>Tenant Jones, old Reader Rawson, and Verner Hughes had caught up +their rifles. The Tenant was shouting. "Come on in! Everybody, +come on in!"</p> + +<p>The boy on top of the library began scrambling down. Another came +running from the direction of the half-demolished Cathedral of +Learning, a third from the baseball field that had served as +Altamont's point of reference the afternoon before.</p> + +<p>The fourth, Murray Hughes, was running in from the ruins of the +old Carnegie Tech buildings, and Birdy Edwards sped up the main +road from Schenley Park. Once, twice, as he ran, Murray Hughes +paused, turned, and fired behind him.</p> + +<p>Then his pursuers came into sight!</p> + +<p>They ran erect, they wore a few rags of skin garments, and they +carried spears and hatchets and clubs, so they were probably +classifiable as men. But their hair was long and unkempt, and +their bodies were almost black with dirt and from the sun. A few +of them were yelling, but most of them ran silently. They ran +more swiftly than the boy they were pursuing: the distance +between them narrowed every moment. There were at least fifty of +them.</p> + +<p>Verner Hughes' rifle barked, one of them dropped. As cooly as +though he were shooting squirrels instead of his son's pursuers, +he dropped the butt of the rifle to the ground, poured a charge +of powder, patched a ball and rammed it home, replaced the +ramrod. Tenant Jones fired then, and Birdy Edwards joined them, +beginning to shoot with the telescope-sighted rifle.</p> + +<p>The young man who had been north of the Cathedral of Learning had +one of the auto-carbines; luckily, Altamont had providently set +the control for semi-auto before giving it to him. He dropped to +one knee and began to empty the clip, shooting slowly and +deliberately, picking off the runners who were in the lead.</p> + +<p>The boy who had started to climb down off the Library halted, +fired his flintlock, and began reloading it.</p> + +<p>Altamont, sitting down and propping his elbows on his knees, took +both hands to the automatic which was his only weapon, emptying +the magazine and replacing it. The last three savages he shot in +the back: they had had enough and were running for their lives.</p> + +<p>So far, everybody was safe. The boy in the Library came down +through a place where the wall had fallen. Murray Hughes stopped +running and came slowly toward the bunker, putting a fresh clip +into his rifle. The others came drifting in.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>"Altamont, calling Loudons," the scientist from Fort Ridgeway was +saying into the radio. "Monty to Jim: can you hear me?"</p> + +<p>Silence.</p> + +<p>"We'd better get ready for another attack," Birdy Edwards said. +"There's another gang coming from down that way. I never saw so +many Scowrers!"</p> + +<p>"Maybe there's a reason, Birdy," Tenant Jones said. "The Enemy is +after big game, this time."</p> + +<p>"Jim, where the devil are you?" Altamont fairly yelled into the +radio; and as he did, he knew the answer. Loudons was in the +village, away from the helicopter, gathering tools and workers.</p> + +<p>Nothing to do but keep on trying!</p> + +<p>"Here they come!" Reader Rawson warned.</p> + +<p>"How far can these rifles be depended on?" Birdy Edwards wanted +to know.</p> + +<p>Altamont straightened, saw the second band of savages approaching +about four hundred yards away.</p> + +<p>"Start shooting now," he said. "Aim for the upper part of their +bodies."</p> + +<p>The two auto-loading rifles began to crack. After the first few +shots, the savages took cover. Evidently they understood the +capabilities and limitations of the villagers' flintlocks, but +this was a terrifying surprise to them.</p> + +<p>"Jim!"—Altamont was almost praying into the radio—"Come in, +Jim!"</p> + +<p>"What is it, Monty? I was outside."</p> + +<p>Altamont told him.</p> + +<p>"Those fellows you had up with you yesterday, think they could +be trusted to handle the guns? A couple of them are here with +me," Loudons inquired.</p> + +<p>"Take a chance on it! It won't cost anything but my life, and +that's not worth much at the present."</p> + +<p>"All right, hold on. We'll be there in a few minutes."</p> + +<p>"Loudons is bringing the helicopter," Altamont told the others. +"All we have to do is to hold on, here, until he comes."</p> + +<p>A naked savage raised his head from behind what might, two +hundred years ago, have been a cement park-bench and he was only +a hundred yards away. Reader Rawson promptly killed him and began +reloading.</p> + +<p>"I think you're right, Tenant," he said. "The Scowrers have never +attacked in bands like this before. They must have a powerful +reason and I can think of only one."</p> + +<p>"That's what I'm beginning to think, too," Verner Hughes agreed. +"At least, we've eliminated the third of your possibilities, +Tenant. And I think probably the second, as well."</p> + +<p>Altamont wondered what they were double-talking about. There +wasn't any particular mystery about the mass attack of the wild +men to him.</p> + +<p>Debased as they were, they still possessed speech and the ability +to transmit experiences. No matter how beclouded in superstition, +they still remembered that aircraft dropped bombs, and bombs +killed people, and where people had been killed, they would find +fresh meat. They had seen the helicopter circling about, and had +heard the blasting: everyone in the area had been drawn to the +scene as soon as Loudons had gone down the river.</p> + +<p>But they seemed to have forgotten that aircraft carried guns, +although they did spring to their feet and start to run at the +return of the helicopter.</p> + +<p>However, most of them did not run far.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>IX</h2> + + +<p>Altamont and Loudons shook hands many times in front of the +Aitch-Cue House, and listened to many good wishes, and repeated +their promise to return. Most of the microfilmed books were to be +stored in the old church. They were taking with them only the +catalogue and a few of the most important works. Finally, they +entered the helicopter. The crowd shouted farewell as they rose.</p> + +<p>Altamont, at the controls, waited until they had gained five +thousand feet, then turned on a compass-course for Colony Three.</p> + +<p>"I can't wait until we're in radio range of the Fort, Jim. This +is one report that I really want to make," he said.</p> + +<p>"Of all the wonderful luck!" he went on. "And I don't know which +is the more important: finding those books, or finding those +people. In a few years, when we can get them supplied with modern +equipment and instructed in its use—</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Jim? You should be even more excited than I +am."</p> + +<p>"I'm not very happy about this, Monty," Loudons confessed. "I +keep thinking about what's going to happen to them."</p> + +<p>"Why, nothing's going to happen to them. They're going to be +given the means of producing more food, keeping more of them +alive, giving them more leisure to develop themselves in—"</p> + +<p>"Monty, I saw the Sacred Books."</p> + +<p>"The deuce! What were they?"</p> + +<p>"It. One volume. A collection of works. We have it at the Fort +and I've read it. How I ever missed all those clues—"</p> + +<p>"You see, Monty, what I'm worried about is what's going to happen +to those people when they find out that we're not really Sherlock +Holmes and Doctor Watson...."</p> + +<hr style='width: 65%;' /> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Return, by H. Beam Piper and John J. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Return + +Author: H. Beam Piper and John J. McGuire + +Release Date: September 1, 2006 [EBook #19158] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE RETURN *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Sankar Viswanathan, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from The Science-Fictional Sherlock + Holmes, 1960. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence + that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. + + + + + THE RETURN + + + by + + + H. Beam Piper and John J. McGuire + + * * * * * + + + + +I + + +Altamont cast a quick, routine glance at the instrument panels +and then looked down through the transparent nose of the +helicopter at the yellow-brown river five hundred feet below. +Next he scraped the last morsel from his plate and ate it. + +"What did you make this out of, Jim?" he asked. "I hope you kept +notes while you were concocting it. It's good." + +"The two smoked pork chops left over from yesterday evening," +Loudons said, "and that bowl of rice that's been taking up space +in the refrigerator the last couple of days, together with a +little egg powder and some milk. I ground the chops up and mixed +them with the rice and other stuff. Then added some bacon, to +make grease to fry it in." + +Altamont chuckled. That was Loudons, all right: he could take a +few left-overs, mess them together, pop them in the skillet, and +have a meal that would turn the chef back at the Fort green with +envy. He filled his cup and offered the pot. + +"Caffchoc?" he asked. + +Loudons held his cup out to be filled, blew on it, sipped, and +then hunted on the ledge under the desk for the butt of the cigar +he had half-smoked the evening before. + +"Did you ever drink coffee, Monty?" the socio-psychologist asked, +getting the cigar drawing to his taste. + +"Coffee? No. I've read about it, of course. We'll have to +organize an expedition to Brazil, sometime, to get seeds and try +raising some." + +Loudons blew a smoke ring toward the rear of the cabin. + +"A much overrated beverage," he replied. "We found some, once, +when I was on that expedition into Idaho, in what must have been +the stockroom of a hotel. Vacuum-packed in moisture-proof +containers, and free from radioactivity. It wasn't nearly as good +as caffchoc. + +"But then, I suppose, a pre-bustup coffee drinker couldn't +stomach this stuff we're drinking." + +Loudons looked forward, up the river they were following. "Get +anything on the radio?" he asked. "I noticed you took us up to +about ten thousand, while I was shaving." + +Altamont got out his pipe and tobacco pouch, filling the former +slowly and carefully. + +"Not a whisper. I tried Colony Three, in the Ozarks, and I tried +to call in that tribe of workers in Louisiana. I couldn't get +either." + +"Maybe if we tried to get a little more power on the set...." + +That was Loudons, too, Altamont thought. There wasn't a better +man at the Fort, when it came to dealing with people. But +confront him with a problem about things and he was lost. + +That was one of the reasons why he and the stocky, phlegmatic social +scientist made such a good team, he thought. As far as he, himself, +was concerned, people were just a mysterious, exasperatingly +unpredictable order of things which were subject to no known natural +laws. + +And Loudons thought the same thing about machines: he couldn't +psychoanalyze them. + +Altamont gestured with his pipe toward the nuclear-electric +conversion unit, between the control-cabin and the living +quarters in the rear of the boxcar-sized helicopter. + +"We have enough power back there to keep this windmill in the air +twenty-four hours a day, three hundred and sixty-five days a +year, for the next fifteen years," he said. "We just don't have +enough radio. If I'd step up the power on this set any more, it'd +burn out before I could say, 'Altamont calling Fort Ridgeway.'" + +"How far are we from Pittsburgh now?" Loudons wanted to know. + +Altamont looked across the cabin at the big map of the United +States as they had been, the red and green and blue and yellow +patchwork of vanished political divisions. The colors gleamed +through the transparent overlay on which this voyage of +re-discovery was plotted. + +The red line of their journey started at Fort Ridgeway, in what +had been Arizona. It angled east by a little north, to Colony +Three, in northern Arkansas ... sharply northeast to St. Louis +and its lifeless ruins ... then to Chicago and Gary, where little +bands of Stone Age reversions stalked and fought and ate each +other ... Detroit, where things that had completely forgotten +they were human emerged from their burrows only at night ... +Cleveland, where a couple of cobalt bombs must have landed in the +lake and drenched everything with radioactivity that still +lingered after two centuries ... Akron, where vegetation was only +beginning to break through the glassy slag ... Cincinnati, where +they had last stopped.... + +"How's the leg this morning, Jim?" he asked. + +"Little stiff. Doesn't hurt much, though." + +"Why, we're about fifty miles, as we follow that river, and +that's relatively straight." He looked down through the +transparent nose of the copter at a town, now choked with trees +that grew among the tumbled walls. "I think that's Aliquippa." + +Loudons looked and shrugged, then looked again and pointed. + +"There's a bear. Just ducked into that church or movie theater or +whatever. I wonder what he thinks we are." + +Altamont puffed slowly at his pipe. "I wonder if we're going to +find anything at all in Pittsburgh." + +"You mean people, as distinct from those biped beasts we've found +so far? I doubt it," Loudons replied, finishing his caffchoc and +wiping his mustache with the back of his hand. "I think the whole +eastern half of the country is nothing but forest like this, and +the highest type of life is just about three cuts below Homo +Neanderthalensis, almost impossible to contact, and even more +impossible to educate." + +"I wasn't thinking about that. I've just about given up hope of +finding anybody or even a reasonably high level of barbarism," +Altamont said. "I was thinking about that cache of microfilmed +books that was buried at the Carnegie Library." + +"If it was buried," Loudons qualified. "All we have is that +article in that two-century-old copy of Time about how the +people at the library had constructed the crypt and were +beginning the microfilming. We don't know if they ever had a +chance to get it finished, before the rockets started landing." + +They passed over a dam of flotsam that had banked up at a +wrecked bridge and accumulated enough mass to resist the periodic +floods that had kept the river usually clear. Three human figures +fled across a sand-flat at one end of it and disappeared into the +woods. Two of them carried spears tipped with something that +sparkled in the sunlight, probably shards of glass. + +"You know, Monty, I get nightmares, sometimes, thinking about +what things must be like in Europe," Loudons said. + +Five or six wild cows went crashing through the brush below. +Altamont nodded when he saw them. + +"Maybe tomorrow, we'll let down and shoot a cow," he said. "I was +looking in the freeze-locker and the fresh meat's getting a +little low. Or a wild pig, if we find a good stand of oak trees. +I could enjoy what you'd do with some acorn-fed pork." + +He looked across the table. "Finished?" he asked Loudons. "Take +over, then. I'll go back and wash the dishes." + +They rose, and Loudons, favoring his left leg, moved over to the +seat at the controls. + +Altamont gathered up the two cups, the stainless-steel dishes, +and the knives and the forks and spoons, going up the steps over +the shielded converter and ducking his head to avoid the seat in +the forward top machine-gun turret. He washed and dried the +dishes, noting with satisfaction that the gauge of the water tank +was still reasonably high, and glanced out one of the windows. +Loudons was taking the big helicopter upstairs, for a better +view. + +Now and then, among the trees, there would be a glint of glassy +slag, usually in a fairly small circle. That was to be expected: +beside the three or four H-bombs that had fallen on the +Pittsburgh area, mentioned in the transcripts of the last news to +reach the Fort from the outside, the whole district had been +pelted, more or less at random, with fission bombs. + +West of the confluence of the Allegheny and the Monongahela, it +would probably be worse than this. + +"Can you see Pittsburgh yet, Jim?" he called out. + +"Yes, it's a mess! Worse than Gary, worse than Akron even." + +"Monty! Come here! I think I have something!" + +Picking up the pipe he had laid down, Altamont hurried forward, +dodging his six-foot length under the gun turret and swinging +down from the walkway over the converter. + +"What is it?" he asked. + +"Smoke. A lot of smoke, twenty or thirty fires at the very +least." + +Loudons had shifted from Forward to Hover and was peering through +a pair of binoculars. "See that island, the long one? Across the +river from it, on the north side, toward this end. Yes, by +Einstein! And I can see cleared ground, and what I think are +houses, inside a stockade...." + + + + +II + + +Murray Hughes walked around the corner of the cabin into the +morning sunlight, lacing his trousers, with his hunting shirt +thrown over his bare shoulders. He found, without much surprise, +that his father had also slept late. Verner Hughes was just +beginning to shave. + +Inside the kitchen, his mother and the girls were clattering pots +and skillets. + +Outside the kitchen door, his younger brother, Hector, was +noisily chopping wood. + +Going through the door, he filled another of the light-metal +basins with hot water, found his razor, and went outside again, +setting the basin on the bench. + +Most of the ware in the Hughes cabin was of light-metal. Murray +and his father had mined it in the dead city up the river, from a +place where it had floated to the top of a puddle of slag, back +when the city had been blasted, at the end of the hard times. + +It had been hard work, but the stuff had been easy to carry down +to where they had hidden their boat. And, for once, they'd had no +trouble with the Scowrers. + +Too bad they couldn't say as much for yesterday's hunting trip! + +As he rubbed lather into the stubble on his face, he cursed with +irritation. That had been a bad-luck hunt, all around. + +They had gone out before dawn, hunting into the hills to the +north. They'd spent the day at it, and shot one small wild pig. +Lucky it was small, at that. They'd have had to abandon a +full-grown one, after the Scowrers had began hunting them. Six of +them, as big a band as he'd ever seen together at one time, had +managed to cut them off from the stockade. He and his father had +been forced to circle miles out of their way. + +His father had shot one, and he'd had to leave his hatchet +sticking in the skull of another, when his rifle had misfired. + +That meant a trip to the gunsmith's, for a new hatchet and to +have the mainspring of the rifle replaced. Nobody could afford to +have a rifle that couldn't be trusted, least of all a hunter and +prospector. + +On top of everything else, he had had a few words with Alex +Barrett, the gunsmith, the other day. + +Well, at least that could be smoothed over. Barrett would be glad +to do business with him, once the gunsmith saw that hard +tool-steel he had dug out of that place down the river. Hardest +steel either he or his father had ever found, and it hadn't been +atom-spoiled, either. + +He cleaned, wiped and stropped his razor and put it back in the +case. He threw out the wash-water on the compost pile and went +into the cabin, putting on his shirt and his belt. Then he passed +through to the front porch, where his father was already eating +at the table. + +The people of the Toon like to eat in the open. It was something +they'd always done, just as they'd always like to eat together in +the evenings. + +He sweetened his cup of chicory with a lump of maple sugar and +began to sip it before he sat down, standing with one foot on the +bench and looking down across the parade ground, past the +Aitch-Cue House, toward the river and the wall. + +"If you're coming around to Alex's way of thinking--and mine--it +won't hurt you to admit it, son," his father said. + +Murray turned, looking at his father with the beginning of anger, +and then he grinned. The elders were constantly keeping the young +men alert with these tests. He checked back over his actions +since he had come out onto the porch. + +... to the table, sugar in his chicory, one foot on the bench ... +which had reminded him again of the absence of the hatchet from +his belt and brought an automatic frown ... then the glance +toward the gunsmith's shop, and across the parade ground ... the +glance including the houses into which so much labor had gone, +the wall that had been built from rubble and topped with pointed +stakes, the white slabs of marble that marked the graves of the +First Tenant and the men of the Old Toon.... + +He had thought, at that moment, that maybe his father and Alex +Barrett and Reader Rawson and Tenant Mycroft Jones and the others +were right: there were too many things here that could not be +moved along with them, if they decided to move. + +It would be false modesty, refusal to see things as they were, not +to admit that he was the leader of the younger men, and the boys of +the Irregulars. He had been forced to face the responsibilities of +that fact since last winter. + +Then, the usual theological arguments about the proper order of +the Sacred Books and the true nature of the Risen One had been +replaced by a violent controversy when Sholto Jiminez and Birdy +Edwards had reopened the old question of the advisability of +moving the Toon and settling elsewhere. + +He had been in favor of the idea himself and found that the other +young men had followed his lead. But, for the last month or so, +he had begun to doubt the wisdom of it. + +It was probably reluctance to admit this to himself that had +brought on the strained feelings between himself and his old +friend, the gunsmith. + +"I'll have to drill the Irregulars, today," he said. "Birdy +Edwards has been drilling them while we've been hunting. But I'll +go up and see Alex about a new hatchet and fixing my rifle. I'll +have a talk with him." + +He stepped forward to the edge of the porch, still munching on a +honey-dipped piece of cornbread, and glanced up at the sky. That +was a queer bird; he had never seen a bird with a wing action +like that. + +Then he realized that the object was not a bird at all. + +His father was staring at it, too. + +"Murray! That's ... that's like the old stories from the time of +the wars!" + +But Murray was already racing across the parade ground toward the +Aitch-Cue House, where the big iron ring hung by its chain from a +gallows-like post, with a hammer beside it. + + + + +III + + +The stockaded village became larger, details grew plainer, as the +helicopter came slanting down and began spiraling around it. + +It was a fairly big place, some forty or fifty acres in a rough +parallelogram, surrounded by a wall of varicolored stone and +brick and concrete rubble from old ruins, topped with a palisade +of pointed poles. There was a small jetty projecting into the +river, to which six or eight boats of different sorts were tied; +a gate opened onto this from the wall. + +Inside the stockade, there were close to a hundred buildings, +ranging from small cabins to a structure with a belfry. It seemed +to have been a church, partly ruined in the war of two centuries +ago and later rebuilt. + +A stream came down from the woods, across the cultivated land +around the fortified village. There was a rough flume which +carried the water from a dam close to the edge of the forest and +provided a fall to turn a mill wheel. + +"Look, strip farming," Loudons pointed. "See the alternate strips +of grass and plowed ground. These people understand soil +conservation. + +"They have horses, too." + +As he spoke, three riders left the village at a gallop. They +separated, and the people in the fields, who had all started for +the village, turned and began hurrying toward the woods. Two of +the riders headed for a pasture in which cattle had been grazing +and started herding them also into the woods. + +For a while, there was a scurrying of little figures in the +village below. Then, not a moving thing was in sight. + +"There's good organization," Loudons said. "Everybody seems to +know what to do, and how to get it done promptly. And look how +neat the whole place is. Policed up. I'll bet anything we'll find +that they have a military organization, or a military tradition +at least. + +"We'll have a lot to find out: you can't understand a people until +you understand their background and their social organization." + +"Humph. Let me have a look at their artifacts: that will tell +what kind of people they are," Altamont said, swinging the +glasses back and forth over the enclosure. "Water-power mill, +water-power sawmill--building on the left side of the water +wheel, see the pile of fresh lumber beside it. Blacksmith shop, +and from that chimney, I'd say a small foundry, too. + +"Wonder what that little building out on the tip of the island +is, it has a water wheel too. Undershot wheel, and it looks like +it could be raised or lowered. Now, I wonder...." + +"Monty, I think we ought to land right in the middle of the +enclosure, on that open plaza thing, in front of the building +that looks like a reconditioned church. That's probably the Royal +Palace, or the Pentagon, or the Kremlin, or whatever." + +Altamont started to object, paused, and then nodded. "I think +you're right, Jim. From the way they scattered, and got their +livestock into the woods, they probably expect us to bomb them. +We have to get inside and that's the quickest way to do it." He +thought for a moment. "We'd better be armed, when we go out. +Pistols, auto-carbines, and a few of those concussion-grenades in +case we have to break up a concerted attack. I'll get them." + +The plaza, the houses and the cabins around it, the +two-hundred-year-old church, all were silent and apparently +lifeless as they set the helicopter down. Once Loudons caught a +movement inside the door of a house, and saw a metallic glint. + +"There's a gun up there," he said. "Looks like a four-pounder. +Brass. I knew that smith-shop was also a foundry. See that little +curl of smoke? That's the gunner's slow-match. + +"I'd thought maybe that thing on the island was a powder mill. +That would be where they'd put it. Probably extract their niter +from the dung of their horses and cows. Sulfur probably from +coal-mine drainage. + +"Jim, this is really something!" + +"I hope they don't cut loose with that thing," Loudons said, +looking apprehensively at the brass-rimmed black muzzle that was +covering them from the belfry. "I wonder if we ought to--Oh-oh, +here they come!" + +Three or four young men stepped out of the wide door of the old +church. They wore fringed buckskin trousers and buckskin shirts +and odd caps of deerskin with visors to shade the eyes and +similar beaks behind to protect the neck. They had powder horns +and bullet pouches slung over their shoulders, and long rifles in +their hands. They stepped aside as soon as they were out. +Carefully avoiding any gesture of menace, they simply stood, +watching the helicopter which had landed in their village. + +Three other men followed them out. They, too, wore buckskins and +the odd double-visored caps. One had a close-cropped white beard, +and on the shoulders of his buckskin shirt, he wore the single +silver bars of a first lieutenant of the vanished United States +Army. He had a pistol on his belt. The pistol had the saw-handle +grip of an automatic, but it was a flintlock, as were the rifles +of the young men who stood so watchfully on either side of the +door. + +Two middle-aged men accompanied the bearded man and the trio +advanced toward the helicopter. + +"All right, come on, Monty." + +Loudons opened the door and let down the steps. Picking up an +auto-carbine, he slung it and stepped out of the helicopter, +Altamont behind him. They advanced to meet the party from the +church, halting when they were about twenty feet apart. + +"I must apologize, lieutenant, for dropping in on you so +unceremoniously." + +Loudons stopped, wondering if the man with the white beard +understood a word of what he was saying. + +"The natural way to come in, when you travel in the air," the old +man replied. "At least, you came in openly. I can promise you a +better reception than that you got at the city to the west of us +a couple of days ago." + +"Now how did you know that we had trouble the +day-before-yesterday?" Loudons demanded. + +The old man's eyes sparkled with child-like pleasure. "That +surprises you, my dear sir? In a moment, I daresay you'll be +surprised at the simplicity of it. + +"You have a nasty rip in the left leg of your trousers, and the +cloth around it is stained with blood. Through the rip, I +perceive a bandage. Obviously, you have suffered a recent wound. +I further observe that the side of your flying machine bears +recent scratches, as though from the spears or throwing hatchets +of the Scowrers. Evidently, they attacked you as you were +landing. It is fortunate that these cannibal devils are too +stupid and too anxious for human flesh to exercise patience." + +"Well, that explains how you knew that we'd recently been +attacked," Loudons told him. "But how did you guess that it had +been to the west of here, in a ruined city?" + +"I never guess," the oldster with the silver bar and the +keystone-shaped red patch on his left shoulder replied. "It is a +shocking habit--destructive to the logical faculties. What seems +strange to you is only so because you do not follow my train of +thought. + +"For example, the wheels and their framework under your flying +machine are splashed with mud which seems to be predominantly +brick-dust, mixed with plaster. Obviously, you landed recently in +a dead city, either during or after a rain. There was a rain here +yesterday evening, the wind being from the west. Obviously, you +followed behind the rain as it came up the river. And now that I +look at your boots, I see traces of the same sort of mud, around +the soles and in front of the heels. + +"But this is heartless of us, keeping you standing here on a +wounded leg, sir. Come in, and let our medic take a look at it." + +"Well, thank you, lieutenant," Loudons replied. "But don't bother +your medic. I've attended to the wound myself, and it wasn't +serious to begin with." + +"You are a doctor?" the white-haired man asked. + +"Of sorts. A sort of general scientist. My name is Loudons. My +friend, Mr. Altamont, here, is a scientist, too." + +There was an immediate reaction: all three of the elders of the +village, and the young riflemen who had accompanied them, +exchanged glances of surprise. + +Loudons dropped his hand to the grip of his slung auto-carbine +and Altamont sidled away from his partner, his hand moving as if +by accident toward the butt of his pistol. The same thought was +in both men's minds, that these people might feel, as the +heritage of the war of two centuries ago, a hostility to science +and scientists. + +There was no hostility, however, in their manner as the old man +came forward with outstretched hand. + +"I am Tenant Mycroft Jones, the Toon Leader here," he said. "This +is Stamford Rawson, our Reader, and Verner Hughes, our Toon +Sarge. This is his son, Murray Hughes, the Toon Sarge of the +Irregulars. + +"But come into the Aitch-Cue House, gentlemen. We have much to +talk about." + + * * * * * + +By this time, the villagers had begun to emerge from the log +cabins and rubble-walled houses around the plaza and the old +church. Some of them, mostly the young men, were carrying rifles, +but the majority were unarmed. About half of them were women, in +short deerskin skirts or homespun dresses. There were a number of +children, the younger ones almost completely naked. + +"Sarge," the old man told one of the youths, "post a guard over +this flying machine. Don't let anybody meddle with it. And have +all the noncoms and techs report here, on the double." He turned +and shouted up at the truncated steeple: "Atherton, sound 'All +Clear!'" + +A horn up in the belfry began blowing, apparently to advise the +people who had run from the fields into the forest that there was +no danger. + +They went through the open doorway of the old stone church and +entered the big room inside. The building had evidently once been +gutted by fire, two centuries ago, but portions of the wall had +been restored. The floor had been replaced by one of rough +planks, and there was a plank ceiling at about ten feet. + +The room was apparently used as a community center. There were a +number of benches and chairs, all very neatly made; and along one +wall, out of the way, ten or fifteen long tables had been +stacked, the tops in a pile and the trestles on the tops. + +The walls were decorated with trophies of weapons--a number of +M-12 rifles and M-16 submachine-guns, all in good, clean +condition; a light machine rifle; two bazookas. Among them were +cruder weapons, stone-and metal-tipped spears and clubs, the work +of the wild men of the woods. + +A stairway led to the second floor, and it was up this stairway +that the man who bore the title of Toon Leader conducted them, to +a small room furnished with a long table, a number of chairs, and +several big wooden chests bound with iron. + +"Sit down, gentlemen," the Toon Leader invited, going to a +cupboard and producing a large bottle stoppered with a corncob +and a number of small cups. + +"It's a little early in the day," he went on, "but this is a very +special occasion. + +"You smoke a pipe, I take it?" he asked Altamont. "Then try some +of this, of our own growth and curing." + +He extended a doeskin moccasin, which seemed to be the tobacco +container. + +Altamont looked at the thing dubiously, then filled his pipe from +it. + +The oldster drew his pistol, pushed a little wooden plug into the +vent, added some tow to the priming, and, aiming at the wall, +snapped it. Evidently, at time the formality of plugging the vent +had been overlooked: there were a number of holes in the wall +there. + +This time, however, the pistol didn't go off. The old man shook +out the smoldering tow, blew it into flame, and lit a candle from +it, offering the light to Altamont. + +Loudons got out a cigar and lit it from the candle; the others +filled and lighted pipes. The Toon Leader reprimed his pistol, +then holstered it, took off his belt and laid it aside, an +example the others followed. + +They drank ceremoniously, and then seated themselves at the +table. As they did, two more men entered the room. They were +introduced as Alexander Barrett, the gunsmith and Stanley +Markovitch, the distiller. + +The Toon Leader began by asking, "You come, then, from the west?" + +"Are you from Utah?" the gunsmith interrupted, suspiciously. + +"Why, no, we're from Arizona. A place called Fort Ridgeway," +Loudons said. + +The others nodded, in the manner of people who wish to conceal +ignorance. It was obvious that none of them had ever heard of +Fort Ridgeway, or Arizona either. + +"You say you come from a fort? Then the wars aren't over yet?" +Sarge Hughes asked. + +"The wars have been over for a long time. You know how terrible +they were. You know how few in all the countries were left +alive," Loudons said. + +"None that we know of, beside ourselves and the Scowrers, until +you came," the Toon Leader said. + +"We have found only a few small groups, in the whole country, who +have managed to save anything of the Old Times. Most of them +lived in little villages and cultivated land. A few had horses or +cows. None, that we have ever found before, made guns and powder +for themselves. But they remembered that they were men, and did +not eat one another. + +"Whenever we find a group of people like this, we try to persuade +them to let us help them." + +"Why?" the Toon Leader asked. "Why do you do this for people that +you have never met before? What do you want from them--from +us--in return for your help?" + +He was speaking to Altamont, rather than to Loudons. It seemed +obvious that he believed Altamont to be the leader and Loudons +the subordinate. + +"Because we are trying to bring back the best of the Old Times," +Altamont told him. "Look, you have had troubles, here. So have +we, many times. Years when the crops didn't ... didn't...." He +looked at Loudons, aware that his partner should be talking now, +and also suddenly aware that Loudons had recognized the situation +and left the leadership up to him.... + +"... years that the crops failed. Years of storms, or floods. +Troubles with those beast-men in the woods. + +"And you were alone, as we were, with no one to help. + +"We want to put all men who are still men in touch with one +another, so that they can help each other in trouble, and work +together. + +"If this isn't done, everything that makes men different from +beasts will soon be no more." + +"He's right. One of us, alone, is helpless," the Reader said. "It +is only in the Toon that there is strength. He wants to organize +a Toon of all Toons." + +"That's about it. We are beginning to make helicopters, like the +one Loudons and I came in. We'll furnish your community with one +or more of them. We can give you a radio, so that you can +communicate with other communities. We can give you rifles and +machine guns and ammunition, to fight the--the Scowrers, did you +call them? And we can give you atomic engines, so that you can +build machines for yourselves." + +"Some of our people,--Alex Barrett here, the gunsmith, and Stan +Markovitch, the distiller, and Harrison Grant, the iron-worker--get +their living by making things. How'd they make out, after your machines +came in here?" Verner Hughes asked. + +"We've thought of that. We had that problem with other groups +we've helped," Loudons said. "In some communities, everybody owns +everything in common and so we don't have much of a problem. Is +that the way you do it, here?" + +"Well, no. If a man makes a thing, or digs it out of the ruins, +or catches it in the woods, it's his." + +"Then we'll work out some way. Give the machines to the people +who are already in a trade, or something like that. We'll have to +talk it over with you and with the people concerned." + +"How is it you took so long finding us?" Alex Barrett asked. +"It's been two hundred or so years since the Wars." + +"Alex! You see but you do not observe!" The Toon Leader rebuked. +"These people have their flying machines, which are highly +complicated mechanisms. They would have to make tools and +machines to make them, and tools and machines to make those tools +and machines. They would have to find materials, often going in +search of them. The marvel is not that they took so long, but +that they did it so quickly." + +"That's right," Altamont said. "Originally, Fort Ridgeway was a +military research and development center. As the country became +disorganized, the Government set this project up to develop ways +of improvising power and transportation and communication methods +and extracting raw materials. If they'd had a little more time, +they might have saved the country. + +"As it was, they were able to keep themselves alive, and keep +something like civilization going at the Fort, while the whole +country was breaking apart around them. + +"Then, when the rockets stopped falling, they started to rebuild. +Fortunately, more than half the technicians at the Fort were +women, so there was no question of them dying out. + +"But it's only been in the last twenty years that we've been able +to make nuclear-electric engines, and this is the first time any +of us have gotten east of the Mississippi." + +"How did your group manage to survive?" Loudons asked. "You call +it the Toon. I suppose that's what the word platoon has become, +with time. You were, originally, a military platoon?" + +"Pla-toon!" the white-bearded man said. "Of all the unpardonable +stupidities! Of course that's what it was. And the title, Tenant, +was originally lieu-tenant. I know that, though we have dropped +all use of the first part of the word. But that should have led +me, if I had used my wits, to deduce platoon from toon." + +The Tenant shook his head in dismay at his stupidity and Loudons +found himself forced to say, "One syllable like that could have +come from many words." + + + + +IV + + +The Tenant smiled at Loudons and said, "Your courtesy does not +excuse our stupidity. We know our history and we should have +identified the word accurately. + +"Yes, we were originally a ... a pla-toon of soldiers, two hundred +years ago, at the time when the Wars ended. The old Toon, and the +First Tenant, were guarding POWs, and there, sir,"--to Loudons--"is a +word we cannot trace. We have no idea what they were. In any event, +the pows were all killed by a big bomb, and the First Tenant, +Lieutenant Gilbert Dunbar, took his platoon and started to march to +DeeCee, where the government was. + +"But there was no government any more. + +"They fought with people along the way. When they needed food, or +ammunition, or animals to pull their wagons, they took them, and +killed those who tried to prevent them. Other people joined the +toon, and when they found women they wanted, they took them. + +"They did all sorts of things that would have been crimes if +there had been any law, but since there was no law, it was +obvious that they could be no crime. + +"The First Ten--Lieutenant--kept his men together, because he had +The Books. Each evening, at the end of each day's march, he read +to his men out of them." + +Altamont knew without looking at his associate that Loudons would +be inconspicuously jotting down notes. The last was an item the +sociologist would be sure to record: the white-bearded Tenant had +pronounced that reference to a written testament in capital +letters. + +The story was continuing.... + +"... finally, they came here. There had been a town here, but it +had been burned and destroyed, and there were people camping in +the ruins. + +"Some of them fought and were killed, others came in and joined +the platoon. + +"At first, they built shelters around this building and made this +their fort. Then they cleared away the ruins, and built new +houses. When the cartridges for the rifles began to get scarce, +they began to make gunpowder, and new rifles, like these we are +using now, to shoot without cartridges. + +"Lieutenant Dunbar did this out of his own knowledge because +there is nothing in The Books about making gunpowder. The guns in +The Books are rifles and shotguns and revolvers and airguns. +Except for the airguns, which we haven't been able to make, these +all shot cartridges. + +"As with your people, we did not die out because we too had +women. Neither did we increase greatly--too many died or were +killed young. But several times we've had to tear down the wall +and rebuild it, to make room inside for more houses. And we've +been clearing out a little more land for the fields each year. + +"We still read and follow the teachings of The Books: we have +made laws for ourselves out of them." + +There was a silence during which Altamont felt himself to be the +focus of attention; not obtrusively, but, nonetheless, insistently. +However, this was Loudon's field and Altamont preferred not to +speak. + +"And we are waiting for the Slain and Risen One," Tenant Jones +added, and there was no doubt that he was looking at Altamont +intently. "It is impossible that He will not, sooner or later, +deduce the existence of this community, if He has not done so +already." + +Again the silence and lack of movement, broken by Loudons this +time, when he picked up the candle to re-lit his cigar. +Mentally, Altamont thanked his partner. + +"Well, sir," the Toon Leader changed the subject abruptly, +"enough of this talk about the past. If I understand rightly, it +is the future in which you gentlemen are interested." He pushed +back the cuff of his hunting shirt and looked at an old and worn +wrist watch. "Eleven hundred: we'll have lunch shortly. + +"This afternoon, you will meet the other people of the Toon, and +this evening, at eighteen hundred, we'll have a mess together. +Then, when we have everyone together, we can talk over your offer +to help us, and decide what it is that you can give us that we +can use." + +"You spoke, a while ago, of what you could do for us, in return," +Altamont said. He knew that now he would have to be the one to +stress their original mission: Loudons would probably be so +fascinated by this society that the sociologist might never +remember the primary reason for coming to Pittsburgh. + +"There's one thing you can do, no further away than tomorrow, if +you're willing." + +He had no time to wonder at the interchange of glances around the +table before the Toon Leader said, "And that is--?" + +"In Pittsburgh, somewhere, there is an underground crypt, full of +books. Not printed and bound books, but spools of microfilm. Do +you know what that is?" + +The men of the Toon shook their heads. Altamont continued: + +"They are spools on which strips of films are wound and on which +pictures have been taken of books, page by page. We can make +other, larger pictures from them, big enough to be read--" + +"Oh, photographs, which you can enlarge. I can understand that. +You mean, you can make many copies of them?" + +"That's right. And you shall have copies, as soon as we can take +the originals back to Fort Ridgeway, where we have the equipment +for enlarging them. But while we have information which will help +us to find the crypt where the books are, we will need help in +getting it open." + +"Of course! This is wonderful. Copies of The Books!" the Reader +exclaimed. "We thought that we had the only one left in the +world!" + +"Not just The Books, Stamford, other books," the Toon Leader +told him. "The books mentioned in The Books. But of course we +will help you. You have a map to show where they are?" + +"Not a map, just some information. But we can work out the +location of the crypt." + +"A ritual," Stamford Rawson said happily. "Of course!" + + + + +V + + +They lunched together at the house of Toon Sarge Hughes with the +Toon Leader and the Reader and five or six of the leaders of the +community. The food was plentiful, but Altamont found himself +wishing that the first book they found in the Carnegie Library +crypt would be a cook-book. + +In the afternoon, he and Loudons separated. + +Loudons attached himself to the Tenant, the Reader and an old +woman, Irene Klein, who was almost a hundred years old and was +the repository and arbiter of most of the community's oral +legends. + +Altamont, on the other hand, started with Alex Barrett, the +gunsmith, and Mordecai Ricci, the miller, to inspect the gunshop +and the grist mill. They were later joined by a half dozen more +of the village craftsmen and so also visited the forge and +foundry, the sawmill and the wagon shop. Altamont additionally +looked at the flume, a rough structure of logs lined with sheet +aluminum; and at the nitriary, a shed-roofed pit in which +potassium nitrate was extracted from the community's animal +refuse. + +But he reversed matters when it came to visiting the powder mill +on the island: he became the host and took them by helicopter to +the island and then for a trip up the river. + +The guests were a badly-scared lot, for the first few minutes, as +they watched the ground receding under them through the +transparent plastic nose. Then, when nothing serious seemed to be +happening, exhilaration took the place of fear. By the time they +set down on the tip of the island, the eight men were confirmed +aviation enthusiasts. + +The trip up-river was an even bigger success, the high point +coming when Altamont set his controls for Hover, pointed out a +snarl of driftwood in the stream, and allowed his passengers to +fire one of the machine-guns at it. + +The lead balls of their own black-powder rifles would have +plunked into the water-logged wood without visible effect. The +copper-jacketed machine-gun bullets ripped it to splinters. + +They returned for a final visit to the distillery awed by what +they had seen. + + + + +VI + + +"Monty, I don't know what the devil to make of this crowd," +Loudons said, that evening, after the feast, when they had +entered the helicopter and were preparing to retire. + +"We've run into some weird communities--that lot down in New +Mexico who live in the church and claim that they have a divine +mission to redeem the world by prayer, fasting, and flagellation. + +"Or those yogis in Los Angeles--" + +"Or the Blackout Boys in Detroit!" Altamont interrupted. He had +good reason to remember them. + +"That's understandable," Loudons said, "after what their +ancestors went through in the last war. And so are the others, in +their own way. + +"But this crowd here!" Loudons put down his cigar and began +chewing on his mustache, a sure sign that he was more than +puzzled: he was a very worried man. + +Altamont respected his partner's abilities in this area. However, +he also knew that the best way to get his friend to work any +problem was to have him do it in conversation. + +"What has you stopped, Jim?" + +"Number of things, Monty. They're hard to explain because--" the +sociologist shrugged, winced a little as the gesture pushed his +leg down on the edge of his bunk--"well, let me just mention +them. + +"These people are the descendants of an old United States Army +platoon, yet they have a fully-developed religion centered on a +slain and resurrected god. + +"Now, Monty, with all due respect to the old US Army, that just +doesn't make sense! Normally, it would take thousands of years for a +slain-god religion to develop, and then only in a special situation, +from the field-fertility magic of primitive agriculturists. + +"Well, you saw those people's fields from the air. Some members +of that old platoon were men who knew the latest methods of +scientific farming. They didn't need naive fairy tales about the +planting and germination of seed." + +"Sure this religion isn't just a variant of Christianity?" + +"Absolutely not! + +"In the first place, these Sacred Books cannot be the Bible--you +heard Tenant Jones say that they mentioned firearms that used +cartridges. That means they can't be older than 1860 at the +earliest. + +"And, in the second place, this slain god wasn't crucified, or +put to death by any form of execution: he perished, together with +his enemy, in combat, and both god and devil were later +resurrected." + +Loudons picked up his cigar again. "By the way, the Enemy is +supposed to be the master-mind back of these cannibal savages in +the woods and also in the ruins." + +"Did you get a look at these Sacred Books, or find out what they +might be?" + +Loudons shook his head disgustedly. "Every time I brought up the +question, they evaded me. The Tenant sent the Reader out to bring +in this old lady, Irene Klein--she was a perfect gold-mine of +information about the history and traditions of the platoon, by +the way--and then he sent the Reader out on some other errand, +undoubtedly to pass the word around not to talk to us about their +religion." + +"I don't get that," Altamont said. "They showed me +everything--their gunshop, their powder mill, their defenses, +everything." + +He smoked in silence for a moment, then added, in an apologetic +tone, "Jim, I'm sure you've thought of this: the slain god +couldn't be the original platoon commander, could he?" + +"I've thought of it, and he isn't, Monty. + +"No, definitely not, though they have the greatest respect for +his memory--decorate his grave regularly, drink toasts to him, +and so on. But he hasn't been deified. They got the idea for this +god of theirs out of the Sacred Books." + +Loudons put the cigar down again and returned to chewing his +mustache. "Monty, this has me worried like the devil: + +"I believe that they suspect that you are the Slain and Risen +One!" + +Altamont considered the idea, then nodded slowly. "Could be, at +that. I know the Tenant came up to me, very respectfully, and +said, 'I hope you don't think, sir, that I was presumptuous in +trying to display my humble deductive abilities to you.'" + +"What did you say?" Loudons demanded rather sharply. + +"Told him certainly not, that he'd used a good, quick method of +demonstrating that he and his people weren't like those mindless +subhumans in the woods." + +"That was all right," Loudons approved, but then his worries +returned. "I don't know how we're going to handle this--" + +"Jim, how about that pows business? Is there something there?" + +"Monty!" Loudons voice was drily chiding as he took a pad of +paper and scribbled briefly. "Take a look and figure for +yourself." + +Altamont looked at the paper. Loudons had simply printed the +first three letters of the word in capitals and separated each +letter with a period. "Ouch! Yes, of course, that's what an +infantry platoon would be guarding. + +"Go ahead, Jim, this is your end of our business. I'll stay out +of it and, especially, I'll keep my mouth shut." + +"I don't think you'll be able to," Loudons said soberly. "As +things stand now, they only suspect that you are their deity. + +"And that means this: we're on trial here!" + +"We have been in spots like this before, Jim," Altamont reminded +his friend. + +"Not like this, Monty, and let me explain. + +"I get the impression here that logic, not faith, is the supreme +religious virtue. And get this, Monty, because it's something +practically unheard of: skepticism is a religious obligation, not +a sin! + +"I wish I knew...." + + + + +VII + + +Tenant Mycroft Jones, Reader Stamford Rawson, Toon Sarge Verner +Hughes, and his son, Murray Hughes, sat around the bare-topped +table in the room on the second floor of the Aitch-Cue House. A +lighted candle flickered in the cool breeze that came in through +the open window, throwing their shadows back and forth on the +walls. + +"Pass the tantalus, Murray," the Tenant said, and the youngest of +the four handed the corncob-corked bottle to the eldest. Tenant +Jones filled his cup and then sat staring at it, while Verner +Hughes thrust his pipe into the toe of the moccasin and filled +it. Finally, the Tenant drank about half the clear, wild-plum +brandy. + +"Gentlemen, I am baffled," he confessed. "We have three alternate +possibilities here and we dare not disregard any of them. + +"Either this man who calls himself Altamont is truly He, or his +is merely what we are asked to believe, one of a community of men +like ours, with more of the old knowledge than we possess." + +"You know my views," Verner Hughes said. "I cannot believe that +He was more than a man, as we are. A great, a good, a wise man, +but a man and mortal." + +"Let's not go into that, now." The Reader emptied his cup and +took the bottle, filling it again. "You know my views, too. I +hold that He is no longer upon earth in the flesh, but lives in +the spirit and is only with us in the spirit. + +"But you said there were three possibilities, none of which can +be eliminated. What was your third possibility, Tenant?" + +"That they are creatures of the Enemy, perhaps that one or the +other of them is the Enemy." + +Reader Rawson, lifting his cup to his lips, almost strangled. The +Hugheses, father and son stared at Tenant Jones in horror. + +"The Enemy--with such weapons and resources!" Murray Hughes +gasped. Then he emptied his cup and refilled it. "No! I can't +believe that: he would have struck before this and wiped us all +out!" + +"Not necessarily, Murray," the Tenant replied. "Until he became +convinced that his agents, the Scowrers, could do nothing +against us, he would bide his time. He sits motionless, like a +spider, at the center of the web; he does little himself; his +agents are numerous. + +"Or, perhaps, he wishes to recruit us into this hellish +organization." + +"It is a possibility," the Reader admitted, "and one which we can +neither accept or reject safely. And we must learn the truth as +soon as possible. If this man is really He, we must not spurn Him +on mere suspicion. If he is a man, come to help us, we must +accept his help; if he is speaking the truth, the people who sent +him could do wonders for us, and the greatest wonder would be to +make us again a part of a civilized community. + +"And if he is the Enemy...." Rawson left the sentence unfinished, +but his face was grim. + +"But if he is really He," Murray said, a little diffidently, for +he was not yet accustomed to being included in the council of the +elders, "I think we are on trial." + +"What do you mean, son? Oh, I see. Of course, I don't believe +that he is, but that's mere doubt, not negative certainty. +However, if I'm wrong, if this man is truly He, we are worthy of +him, we will penetrate his disguise." + +"A very pretty problem, gentlemen," the Tenant said, smacking his +lips over his brandy, "for all that it may be a deadly serious +one for us. There is, of course, nothing we can do tonight. But, +tomorrow, we have promised to help our visitors, whoever they may +be, in searching for this crypt in the city. + +"Murray, you were to be in charge of the detail that was to +accompany them. Carry on as arranged, and say nothing of our +suspicions, but advise your men to keep a sharp watch on the +strangers, that they may learn all they can from them. + +"Stamford, you and Verner and I will go along. We should, if we +have any wits at all, observe something." + + + + +VIII + + +"Listen to this infernal thing!" Altamont raged. "'Wielding a +gold-plated spade handled with oak from an original rafter of the +Congressional Library, at three-fifteen one afternoon last +week--' One afternoon last week!" He cursed luridly. "Why +couldn't that blasted magazine say what afternoon? I've gone over +a lot of twentieth century copies of that magazine and that +expression was a regular cliche with them." + +Loudons looked over his shoulder at the photostated magazine +page. + +"Well, we know it was between June thirteen and nineteen, +inclusive," he said. "And there's a picture of the university +president, complete with gold-plated spade, breaking ground. Call +it Wednesday, the sixteenth. Over there's the tip of the shadow +of the old Cathedral of Learning, about a hundred yards away. +There are so many inexactitudes, that one'll probably cancel out +the other." + +"That's so, and it's also pretty futile getting angry at somebody +who's been dead two hundred years, but why couldn't they say +Wednesday, or Monday, or Saturday, or whatever?" + +Monty checked back in the astronomical handbook, and the +photostated pages of the old almanac, then looked over his +calculations. "All right, here is the angle of the shadow, and +the compass-bearing. + +"I had a look, yesterday, when I was taking the local citizenry +on that junket. The old baseball diamond at Forbes Field is +plainly visible, and I located the ruins of the Cathedral of +Learning from that. + +"Here's the above-sea-level altitude of the top of the tower. +After you've landed us, go up to this altitude--use the +barometric altimeter, not the radar--and hold position." + +Loudons leaned forward from the desk to the contraption Altamont +had rigged up in the nose of the helicopter; one of the +telescope-sighted hunting rifles clamped in a vise, with a +compass and a spirit-level under it. + +"Rifle's pointing downward at the correct angle now?" he asked. +"Good. Then all I have to do is to hold the helicopter steady, +keep it at the right altitude, level and pointed in the right +direction, and watch through the sight while you move the flag +around, and direct you by radio." + +"Simple, if I had been born quintuplets!" + +"Mr. Altamont! Doctor Loudons!" a voice outside the helicopter +called. "Are you ready for us now?" + +Altamont went to the open door and looked out. The old Toon +Leader, the Reader, Toon Sarge Hughes, his son and four young men +in buckskins with slung rifles were standing outside. + +"I have decided," the Tenant said, "that Mr. Rawson and Sarge +Hughes and I would be of more help than an equal number of young +men. We may not be as active, but we do know the old ruins +better, especially the paths and hiding places of the Scowrers. +These four young men you probably met last evening, but it will +do no harm to introduce them again. + +"Birdy Edwards; Sholto Jiminez; Jefferson Burns; Murdo Olsen." + +"Very pleased, Tenant, gentlemen. I met all of you young men last +evening and I remember you," Altamont said. "Now, if you'll crowd +in here, I'll explain what we're going to try to do." + +He showed them the old picture. "You see where the shadow of a +tall building falls?" he asked. "We know the height and location +of this building. Doctor Loudons will hold this helicopter at +exactly the position of the top of the building and aim through +the sights of the rifle, there. One of you will have this flag in +his hand, and will move it back and forth. Doctor Loudons will +tell us when the flag is in sight of the rifle." + +"He'll need a good pair of lungs to do that," Verner Hughes +commented. + +"We'll use the radio. A portable set on the ground, and the +helicopter's radio set," Altamont said. + +To his surprise, he was met with looks of incomprehension. He had +not supposed that these people would have lost all memory of +radio communication. + +"Why, that's wonderful!" the Reader exclaimed, when the +explanation was concluded. "You can talk directly. How much +better than just sending a telegram!" + +"But, finding the crypt by the shadow, that's exactly like the--" +Murray Hughes began, then stopped short. Immediately, he began +talking about the rifle that was to be used as a surveying +transit, comparing it with the ones in the big first-floor room +at the Aitch-Cue House. + +Locating the point where the shadow of the old Cathedral of +Learning had fallen proved easier than either Altamont or Loudons +had expected. The towering building was now a tumbled mass of +slagged rubble, but it was quite possible to determine its +original center, and with the old data from the excellent +reference library at Fort Ridgeway, its height above sea level +was known. After a little jockeying, the helicopter came to a +hovering stop, and the slanting barrel of the rifle in the vise +pointed downward along the line of the shadow that had been cast +on that afternoon in June, 1993. + +The cross-hairs of the scope sight centered almost exactly on the +spot Altamont had estimated on the map. + +Guiding himself by peering through the rifle-sight, Loudons +brought the helicopter slanting down to land on the sheet of +fused glass that had once been a grassy campus. + +"Well, this is probably it," Altamont said. "We didn't have to +bother fussing around with that flag after all. That hump over +there looks as though it had been a small building, and there's +nothing corresponding to it on the city map. That may be the +bunker over the stair-head to the crypt." + +They began unloading equipment--a small, portable +nuclear-electric conversion unit, a powerful solenoid-hammer, +crowbars and intrenching tools, tins of blasting plastic. They +took out the two hunting rifles and the auto-carbines, and +Altamont showed the young men of Murray Hughes' detail how to use +them. + +"If you will pardon me, sir," the Tenant said to Altamont, "I +think it would be a good idea if your companion went up in the +flying machine and circled over us, to keep watch for the +Scowrers. There are quite a few of them, particularly farther up +the rivers, to the east, where the damage was not so great and +they can find cellars and shelters and buildings to live in." + +"Good idea. That way, we won't have to put out guards," Altamont +said. "From the looks of this, we'll need every body to help dig +into that thing. Hand out one of the portable radios, Jim and go +up to about a thousand feet. If you see anything suspicious, give +us a yell, then spray it with bullets, and find out what it is +afterward." + +They waited until the helicopter had climbed to position and was +circling above, and then turned their attention to the place +where the sheet of fused earth and stone bulged upward. It must +have been almost ground-zero of one of the hydrogen-bombs: the +wreckage of the Cathedral of Learning had fallen predominantly to +the north, and the Carnegie Library was tumbled to the east. + +"I think the entrance would be on this side, toward the Library," +Altamont said. "Let's try it, to begin with." + +He used the solenoid-hammer, slowly pounding a hole in the glaze, +and placed a small charge of the plastic explosive. Chunks of the +lava-like stuff pelted down between the little mound and the huge +one of the old library, blowing a hole six feet in diameter and +the two and a half feet deep, revealing concrete bonded with +crushed steel-mill slag. + +"We missed the door," Altamont said. "That means we'll have to +tunnel in through who knows how much concrete. Well...." + +He used a second and larger charge, after digging a hole a foot +deep. When he and his helpers came up to look, they found a large +mass of concrete blown out, and solid steel behind it. Altamont +cut two more holes, one on either side of the blown-out place, +and fired a charge in each of them, bringing down more concrete. + +He found he hadn't missed the door after all. It had merely been +concreted over. + +A few more shots cleared it, and after some work, they got it +open. There was a room inside, concrete-floored and entirely +empty. Altamont stood in the doorway and inspected the interior +with his flashlight; he heard somebody behind him say something +about a most peculiar sort of dark-lantern. + +Across the small room, on the opposite wall, was a bronze plaque. + +The plaque carried quite a lengthy inscription, including the +names of all the persons and institutions participating in the +microfilm project. The History Department at the Fort would be +interested in that, but the only thing that interested Altamont +was the statement that the floor had been laid over the trapdoor +leading to the vault where the microfilms were stored. He went +outside to the radio. + +"Hello, Jim. We're inside, but the films were stored in an +underground vault, and so we have to tear up a concrete floor," +he said. "Go back to the village and gather up all the men you +can carry. I don't want to use explosives inside. The interior of +the crypt oughtn't to be damaged. Besides, I don't know what a +blast in there might do to the film, and I don't want to take any +chances." + +"No, of course not. How thick do you think the floor is?" + +"Haven't the least idea. Plenty thick, I would guess. Those films +would have to be well-buried, to shield them from radioactivity. +We can expect that it will take some time." + +"All right. I'll be back as soon as I can." + +The helicopter turned and went windmilling away, over what had +been the Golden Triangle, down the Ohio. Altamont went back to +the little concrete bunker and sat down, lighting his pipe. +Murray Hughes and his four riflemen spread out, one circling +around the glazed butte that had been the Cathedral of Learning, +another climbing to the top of the old Library, and the others +taking positions to the south and east. + +Altamont sat in silence, smoking his pipe and trying to form some +conception of the wealth under that concrete floor. + +It was no use. + +Jim Loudons probably understood a little more clearly what those +books would mean to the world of today, and what they could do +toward shaping the world of the future. + +There was a library at Fort Ridgeway, and it was an excellent one ... +for its purpose. In 1996, when the rockets had come crashing +down, it had contained the cream of the world's technical +knowledge--and very little else. There was only a little fiction, +a few books of ideas, just enough to give the survivors a +tantalizing glimpse of the world of their fathers. + +But now.... + + * * * * * + +A rifle banged to the south and east, and banged again. Either +Murray Hughes or Birdy Edwards: it was one of the two hunting +rifles from the helicopter. + +On the heels of the reports, they heard a voice shouting, +"Scowrers! A lot of them, coming from up the river!" + +A moment later, there was a light whip-crack of one of the +muzzleloaders, from the top of the old Carnegie Library, and +Altamont could see a wisp of grey-white smoke drifting away from +where it had been fired. + +Altamont jumped to his feet and raced for the radio, picking it +up and bring it to the bunker. + +Tenant Jones, old Reader Rawson, and Verner Hughes had caught up +their rifles. The Tenant was shouting. "Come on in! Everybody, +come on in!" + +The boy on top of the library began scrambling down. Another came +running from the direction of the half-demolished Cathedral of +Learning, a third from the baseball field that had served as +Altamont's point of reference the afternoon before. + +The fourth, Murray Hughes, was running in from the ruins of the +old Carnegie Tech buildings, and Birdy Edwards sped up the main +road from Schenley Park. Once, twice, as he ran, Murray Hughes +paused, turned, and fired behind him. + +Then his pursuers came into sight! + +They ran erect, they wore a few rags of skin garments, and they +carried spears and hatchets and clubs, so they were probably +classifiable as men. But their hair was long and unkempt, and +their bodies were almost black with dirt and from the sun. A few +of them were yelling, but most of them ran silently. They ran +more swiftly than the boy they were pursuing: the distance +between them narrowed every moment. There were at least fifty of +them. + +Verner Hughes' rifle barked, one of them dropped. As cooly as +though he were shooting squirrels instead of his son's pursuers, +he dropped the butt of the rifle to the ground, poured a charge +of powder, patched a ball and rammed it home, replaced the +ramrod. Tenant Jones fired then, and Birdy Edwards joined them, +beginning to shoot with the telescope-sighted rifle. + +The young man who had been north of the Cathedral of Learning had +one of the auto-carbines; luckily, Altamont had providently set +the control for semi-auto before giving it to him. He dropped to +one knee and began to empty the clip, shooting slowly and +deliberately, picking off the runners who were in the lead. + +The boy who had started to climb down off the Library halted, +fired his flintlock, and began reloading it. + +Altamont, sitting down and propping his elbows on his knees, took +both hands to the automatic which was his only weapon, emptying +the magazine and replacing it. The last three savages he shot in +the back: they had had enough and were running for their lives. + +So far, everybody was safe. The boy in the Library came down +through a place where the wall had fallen. Murray Hughes stopped +running and came slowly toward the bunker, putting a fresh clip +into his rifle. The others came drifting in. + + * * * * * + +"Altamont, calling Loudons," the scientist from Fort Ridgeway was +saying into the radio. "Monty to Jim: can you hear me?" + +Silence. + +"We'd better get ready for another attack," Birdy Edwards said. +"There's another gang coming from down that way. I never saw so +many Scowrers!" + +"Maybe there's a reason, Birdy," Tenant Jones said. "The Enemy is +after big game, this time." + +"Jim, where the devil are you?" Altamont fairly yelled into the +radio; and as he did, he knew the answer. Loudons was in the +village, away from the helicopter, gathering tools and workers. + +Nothing to do but keep on trying! + +"Here they come!" Reader Rawson warned. + +"How far can these rifles be depended on?" Birdy Edwards wanted +to know. + +Altamont straightened, saw the second band of savages approaching +about four hundred yards away. + +"Start shooting now," he said. "Aim for the upper part of their +bodies." + +The two auto-loading rifles began to crack. After the first few +shots, the savages took cover. Evidently they understood the +capabilities and limitations of the villagers' flintlocks, but +this was a terrifying surprise to them. + +"Jim!"--Altamont was almost praying into the radio--"Come in, +Jim!" + +"What is it, Monty? I was outside." + +Altamont told him. + +"Those fellows you had up with you yesterday, think they could +be trusted to handle the guns? A couple of them are here with +me," Loudons inquired. + +"Take a chance on it! It won't cost anything but my life, and +that's not worth much at the present." + +"All right, hold on. We'll be there in a few minutes." + +"Loudons is bringing the helicopter," Altamont told the others. +"All we have to do is to hold on, here, until he comes." + +A naked savage raised his head from behind what might, two +hundred years ago, have been a cement park-bench and he was only +a hundred yards away. Reader Rawson promptly killed him and began +reloading. + +"I think you're right, Tenant," he said. "The Scowrers have never +attacked in bands like this before. They must have a powerful +reason and I can think of only one." + +"That's what I'm beginning to think, too," Verner Hughes agreed. +"At least, we've eliminated the third of your possibilities, +Tenant. And I think probably the second, as well." + +Altamont wondered what they were double-talking about. There +wasn't any particular mystery about the mass attack of the wild +men to him. + +Debased as they were, they still possessed speech and the ability +to transmit experiences. No matter how beclouded in superstition, +they still remembered that aircraft dropped bombs, and bombs +killed people, and where people had been killed, they would find +fresh meat. They had seen the helicopter circling about, and had +heard the blasting: everyone in the area had been drawn to the +scene as soon as Loudons had gone down the river. + +But they seemed to have forgotten that aircraft carried guns, +although they did spring to their feet and start to run at the +return of the helicopter. + +However, most of them did not run far. + + + + +IX + + +Altamont and Loudons shook hands many times in front of the +Aitch-Cue House, and listened to many good wishes, and repeated +their promise to return. Most of the microfilmed books were to be +stored in the old church. They were taking with them only the +catalogue and a few of the most important works. Finally, they +entered the helicopter. The crowd shouted farewell as they rose. + +Altamont, at the controls, waited until they had gained five +thousand feet, then turned on a compass-course for Colony Three. + +"I can't wait until we're in radio range of the Fort, Jim. This +is one report that I really want to make," he said. + +"Of all the wonderful luck!" he went on. "And I don't know which +is the more important: finding those books, or finding those +people. In a few years, when we can get them supplied with modern +equipment and instructed in its use-- + +"What's the matter, Jim? You should be even more excited than I +am." + +"I'm not very happy about this, Monty," Loudons confessed. "I +keep thinking about what's going to happen to them." + +"Why, nothing's going to happen to them. They're going to be +given the means of producing more food, keeping more of them +alive, giving them more leisure to develop themselves in--" + +"Monty, I saw the Sacred Books." + +"The deuce! What were they?" + +"It. One volume. A collection of works. We have it at the Fort +and I've read it. How I ever missed all those clues--" + +"You see, Monty, what I'm worried about is what's going to happen +to those people when they find out that we're not really Sherlock +Holmes and Doctor Watson...." + + * * * * * + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Return, by H. Beam Piper and John J. 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