_Alan's plan might save the
race from extinction--but he
was the clan's only husband
and had to be protected from
his own folly...._
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, June 1956.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Before the first shots rang out, Alan had been sitting with some twenty
young people of the Wolf clan in a grove of aspen approximately half
way between the fields and the citadel on the hill-top. He had been
teaching them myth-legend and, as usual, the girls were bored and
unbelieving, the boys open mouthed.
He realized, even as he spoke, that the telling had changed even
since his own youth. As a boy of ten, before it was definitely known
whether or not he was a sterilie, he had sat at the feet of the Turtle
clan's husband as open mouthed as those who sat at his feet now. But
the telling was different. Now, had he spoken openly of when men bore
weapons and women lived at home with the children, he would have
crossed the boundaries of decency. It hadn't been so in his own youth,
but then, when he was a boy, they had been one generation nearer to
the old days, which weren't so far back after all.
Helen complained, "This is so silly, Alan. Why don't you tell us
something about ... well, about hunting, or true fighting?"
He looked at her. Could this be a daughter of his? Tall for her
fourteen years and straight, clear of eye, aggressive and brooking of
no nonsense. The old books told of the femininity of women, but....
The shots went _bang, bang, bang_, from below, faint in the half mile
or more of distance. And then _bang, bang_ again and several _booms_
from the new muzzle loading muskets.
Helen was on her feet first, her eyes flashing. Instantly she was in
command. "Alan," she snapped. "Quick, to the citadel. All of you boys,
hurry! To the citadel!"
She whirled to her older classmates. "Ruth, Margo, Jenny, Paula. Get
stones, sharp stones. You younger girls go with Alan. See if you can
help at the citadel. We'll come last. Hurry Alan."
Alan was already off, herding the boys before him. Possibly all of them
were sterilies and so wouldn't count. But you never knew.
As they climbed the hill, he looked back over his shoulder. Down in the
fields he could see the workers scattering for their weapons and for
cover. One stumbled and was down. In the distance he couldn't make out
whether she had fallen accidentally or been wounded. Further beyond the
fields he could see the smoke from a half dozen or more places where
the shots had originated. It didn't seem to be an attack in force.
Not far up the hill from the field workers, on a overhanging boulder in
a lookout position, he could make out Vivian, the scout chief. She sat,
seemingly in unconcerned ease, one elbow supported on a knee as her
telescoped rifle went _crack, crack, crack_. If he knew Vivian there
was more than one casualty among the raiders.
Who could it be this time? Deer from the south, Coyote or Horse from
the east? Possibly Eagles, Crows or Dogs from Denver way. The clan
couldn't stand much more of this pressure. It was the third raid in six
months. They couldn't stand it and put in a crop, nor could the drain
on the arsenal be maintained. He had heard that the Turtle clan, near
Colorado Springs, the clan of his birth, had got to the point where
they were using bows and arrows even for defense. If so, it wouldn't be
long before they would be losing their husband.
He was puffing somewhat by the time they reached the citadel. Helen
and her four girls were coming much more slowly, watching the progress
of the fight below them, keeping their eyes peeled for a possible
break through of individual enemies. The stones in their hands were
pathetically brave.
The rounded citadel building, stone built, loopholed for rifles, loomed
before them. He swung open the door and hurried inside.
"Hello, honey," a strange voice said pseudo-pleasantly. "Hey, you're
kind of cute."
Alan's eyes went from the two figures before him, automatic rifles
cuddled under their arms, to the two Wolf clan sentries collapsed in
their own blood on the floor. They had paid for lack of vigilance with
their lives.
He could see that the strangers were of different clans by their kilts,
one a Horse the other a Crow. This would mean two clans had united in
order to raid the Wolves and that, in turn, would mean the Wolves were
outnumbered as much as two to one.
"Relax, darling," the second one said, a lewd quality in her voice.
"Nothing's going to happen to _you_." Her eyes took in the dozen boys
ranging in age from five to twelve. "Look like a bunch of sterilies to
me," she sneered. "Get them up above, and those girls too. You stay
here where we can watch you, honey."
The Crow went to a small window, stared down below. "Wanda is holding
them pretty well but they're beginning to work their way back in this
direction." She laughed harshly. "These Wolves never could fight."
Her companion fingered the Bren gun which lay on the heavy table top in
the round room's center. Aside from four equally heavily constructed
chairs the table was the large room's sole furniture. While Alan was
ushering the boys and younger girls up to the second floor where they
would be safe, the Horse said musingly, "We could turn this loose on
them even at this distance."
The Crow shook her head. "No. It'll be better to wait until they're
closer. Besides, by that time Peggy and her group'll be coming up from
the arroyo. There won't be a Wolf left half an hour from now."
Alan, his stomach empty, stared out the loophole nearest him.
One of the women said, grinning, "You better get away from there,
honey. Make you sick. That's a mighty pretty suit you've got on. Make
it yourself?"
"No," Alan said. As a matter of fact one of the sterilies had made it.
She laughed. "Well, don't be so uppity. You're going to have to learn
how to be nice to me, you know."
Both of them laughed, but Alan said nothing. He wondered how long the
women of these clans had been without a husband.
Down below he could make out the progress of the fighting and then
realized the battle plan of the aggressors. They must have planned it
for months, waiting until the season was such that practically the
whole Wolf clan, and particularly the fighters, would be at work in the
fields. They'd sent these two scouts, probably their best warriors, to
take the citadel by stealth. Only two of them, more would have been
conspicuous.
They had then, with a limited force, opened fire on the field workers,
pinning them down temporarily.
Meanwhile, the main body was ascending the arroyo to the left,
completely hidden from the defending forces although they would have
been in open sight from above had the citadel remained uncaptured.
Alan could see plainly what the next fifteen minutes would mean. The
Wolf clan would draw back on the citadel, Vivian and her younger
warriors bringing up the rear. When they broke into the clear and
started the last dash for the safety of their fortress, they would be
in the open and at the mercy of the crossfire from arroyo and citadel.
If only these two had failed in their attempt to....
The Crow woman said, "Look at this. Five young brats with stones in
their hands. What do you say?"
It was Helen and her four girls.