Incredible Treason
After receiving this report, and reassurances of support from the Big
Bosses of the neighboring Gangs, Hart determined to reestablish the
Wyoming Valley community.
A careful survey of the territory showed that it was only the northern
sections and slopes that had been "beamed" by the first Han ship.
The synthetic-fabrics plant had been partially wiped out, though the
lower levels underground had not been reached by the dis ray. The forest
screen above it, however, had been annihilated, and it was determined to
abandon it, after removing all usable machinery and evidences of the
processes that might be of interest to the Han scientists, should they
return to the valley in the future.
The ammunition plant, and the rocket-ship plant, which had just been
about to start operation at the time of the raid, were intact, as were
the other important plants.
Hart brought the Camboss up from the Susquanna Works, and laid out new
camp locations, scattering them farther to the south, and avoiding
ground which had been seared by the Han beams and the immediate
locations of the Han wrecks.
During this period, a sharp check was kept upon Han messages, for the
phone plant had been one of the first to be put in operation, and when
it became evident that the Hans did not intend any immediate reprisals,
the entire membership of the community was summoned back, and normal
life was resumed.
Wilma and I had been married the day after the destruction of the ships,
and spent this intervening period in a delightful honeymoon, camping
high in the mountains. On our return, we had a camp of our own, of
course. We were assigned to location 1017. And as might be expected, we
had a great deal of banter over which one of us was Camp Boss. The title
stood after my name on the Big Boss' records, and those of the Big
Camboss, of course, but Wilma airily held that this meant nothing at
all--and generally succeeded in making me admit it whenever she chose.
I found myself a full-fledged member of the Gang now, for I had elected
to search no farther for a permanent alliance, much as I would have
liked to familiarize myself with this 25th Century life in other
sections of the country. The Wyomings had a high morale, and had
prospered under the rule of Big Boss Hart for many years. But many of
the gangs, I found, were badly organized, lacked strong hands in
authority, and were rife with intrigue. On the whole, I thought I would
be wise to stay with a group which had already proved its friendliness,
and in which I seemed to have prospects of advancement. Under these
modern social and economic conditions, the kind of individual freedom to
which I had been accustomed in the 20th Century was impossible. I would
have been as much of a nonentity in every phase of human relationship by
attempting to avoid alliances, as any man of the 20th Century would have
been politically, who aligned himself with no political party.
This entire modern life, it appeared to me, judging from my ancient
viewpoint, was organized along what I called "political" lines. And in
this connection, it amused me to notice how universal had become the use
of the word "boss." The leader, the person in charge or authority over
anything, was a "boss." There was as little formality in his relations
with his followers as there was in the case of the 20th Century
political boss, and the same high respect paid him by his followers as
well as the same high consideration by him of their interests. He was
just as much of an autocrat, and just as much dependent upon the general
popularity of his actions for the ability to maintain his autocracy.
The sub-boss who could not command the loyalty of his followers was as
quickly deposed, either by them or by his superiors, as the ancient ward
leader of the 20th Century who lost control of his votes.
As society was organized in the 20th Century, I do not believe the
system could have worked in anything but politics. I tremble to think
what would have happened, had the attempt been made to handle the A. E.
F. this way during the First World War, instead of by that rigid
military discipline and complete assumption of the individual as a mere
standardized cog in the machine.
But owing to the centuries of desperate suffering the people had endured
at the hands of the Hans, there developed a spirit of self-sacrifice and
consideration for the common good that made the scheme applicable and
efficient in all forms of human co-operation.
I have a little heresy about all this, however. My associates regard the
thought with as much horror as many worthy people of the 20th Century
felt in regard to any heretical suggestion that the original outline of
government as laid down in the First Constitution did not apply as well
to 20th Century conditions as to those of the early 19th.
In later years, I felt that there was a certain softening of moral fiber
among the people, since the Hans had been finally destroyed with all
their works; and Americans have developed a new luxury economy. I have
seen signs of the reawakening of greed, of selfishness. The eternal
cycle seems to be at work. I fear that slowly, though surely, private
wealth is reappearing, codes of inflexibility are developing; they will
be followed by corruption, degradation; and in the end some cataclysmic
event will end this era and usher in a new one.
All this, however, is wandering afar from my story, which concerns our
early battles against the Hans, and not our more modern problems of
self-control.
Our victory over the seven Han ships had set the country ablaze. The
secret had been carefully communicated to the other gangs, and the
country was agog from one end to the other. There was feverish activity
in the ammunition plants, and the hunting of stray Han ships became an
enthusiastic sport. The results were disastrous to our hereditary
enemies.
From the Pacific Coast came the report of a great transpacific liner of
75,000 tons "lift" being brought to earth from a position of
invisibility above the clouds. A dozen Sacramentos had caught the hazy
outlines of its rep rays approaching them, head-on, in the twilight,
like ghostly pillars reaching into the sky. They had fired rockets into
it with ease, whereas they would have had difficulty in hitting it if it
had been moving at right angles to their position. They got one rep ray.
The other was not strong enough to hold it up. It floated to earth, nose
down, and since it was unarmed and unarmored, they had no difficulty in
shooting it to pieces and massacring its crew and passengers. It seemed
barbarous to me. But then I did not have centuries of bitter persecution
in my blood.
From the Jersey Beaches we received news of the destruction of a
Nu-yok-A-lan-a liner. The Sand-snipers, practically invisible in their
sand-colored clothing, and half buried along the beaches, lay in wait
for days, risking the play of dis beams along the route, and finally
registering four hits within a week. The Hans discontinued their service
along this route, and as evidence that they were badly shaken by our
success, sent no raiders down the Beaches.
It was a few weeks later that Big Boss Hart sent for me.
"Tony," he said, "There are two things I want to talk to you about. One
of them will become public property in a few days, I think. We aren't
going to get any more Han ships by shooting up their repellor rays
unless we use much larger rockets. They are wise to us now. They're
putting armor of great thickness in the hulls of their ships below the
rep-ray machines. Near Bah-flo this morning a party of Eries shot one
without success. The explosions staggered her, but did not penetrate. As
near as we can gather from their reports, their laboratories have
developed a new alloy of great tensile strength and elasticity which
nevertheless lets the rep rays through like a sieve. Our reports
indicate that the Eries' rockets bounced off harmlessly. Most of the
party was wiped out as the dis rays went into action on them.
"This is going to mean real business for all of the gangs before long.
The Big Bosses have just held a national ultrophone council. It was
decided that America must organize on a national basis. The first move
is to develop sectional organization by Zones. I have been made
Superboss of the Mid-Atlantic Zone.
"We're in for it now. The Hans are sure to launch reprisal expeditions.
If we're to save the race we must keep them away from our camps and
plants. I'm thinking of developing a permanent field force, along the
lines of the regular armies of the 20th Century you told me about. Its
business will be twofold: to carry the warfare as much as possible to
the Hans, and to serve as a decoy, to keep their attention from our
plants. I'm going to need your help in this.
"The other thing I wanted to talk to you about is this: Amazing and
impossible as it seems, there is a group, or perhaps an entire gang,
somewhere among us, that is betraying us to the Hans. It may be the Bad
Bloods, or it may be one of those gangs who live near one of the Han
cities. You know, a hundred and fifteen or twenty years ago there were
certain of these people's ancestors who actually degraded themselves by
mating with the Hans, sometimes even serving them as slaves, in the days
before they brought all their service machinery to perfection.
"There is such a gang, called the Nagras, up near Bah-flo, and another
in Mid-Jersey that men call the Pineys. But I hardly suspect the Pineys.
There is little intelligence among them. They wouldn't have the
information to give the Hans, nor would they be capable of imparting it.
They're absolute savages."
"Just what evidence is there that anybody has been clearing information
to the Hans?" I asked.
"Well," he replied, "first of all there was that raid upon us. That
first Han ship knew the location of our plants exactly. You remember it
floated directly into position above the valley and began a systematic
beaming. Then, the Hans quite obviously have learned that we are picking
up their electrophone waves, for they've gone back to their old, but
extremely accurate, system of directional control. But we've been
getting them for the past week by installing automatic re-broadcast
units along the scar paths. This is what the Americans called those
strips of country directly under the regular ship routes of the Hans,
who as a matter of precaution frequently blasted them with their dis
beams to prevent the growth of foliage which might give shelter to the
Americans. But they've been beaming those paths so hard, it looks as
though they even had information of this strategy. And in addition,
they've been using code. Finally, we've picked up three of their
messages in which they discuss, with some nervousness, the existence of
our 'mysterious' ultrophone."
"But they still have no knowledge of the nature and control of ultronic
activity?" I asked.
"No," said the Big Boss thoughtfully, "they don't seem to have a bit of
information about it."
"Then it's quite clear," I ventured, "that whoever is 'clearing' us to
them is doing it piecemeal. It sounds like a bit of occasional barter,
rather than an out-and-out alliance. They're holding back as much
information as possible for future bartering, perhaps."
"Yes," Hart said, "and it isn't information the Hans are giving in
return, but some form of goods, or privilege. The trick would be to
locate the goods. I guess I'll have to make a personal trip around among
the Big Bosses."