by Anthology
"No," Travis croaked hoarsely. "I stay. Stay or go, we shall all die like dogs, anyway. Boys, for the last time! Don't reveal our weakness to the enemy—"
"What weakness? We're stronger than them. Americans could whip the Mexicans any day, if we wanted to. But the thing to do is make 'em talk, not fight. So long, Bill."
The two big men stepped outside. In the night there was a sudden clatter of hoofs as the Texans mounted and rode. From across the river came a brief spatter of musket fire, then silence. In the dark, there had been no difficulty in breaking through the Mexican lines.
Inside the chapel, John Ord's mouth hung slackly. He muttered, "Am I insane? It didn't happen this way—it couldn't! The books can't be that wrong—"
In the candlelight, Travis hung his head. "We tried, John. Perhaps it was a forlorn hope at best. Even if we had defeated Santa Anna, or delayed him, I do not think the Indian Nations would have let Houston get help from the United States."
Ord continued his dazed muttering, hardly hearing.
"We need a contiguous frontier with Texas," Travis continued slowly, just above a whisper. "But we Americans have never broken a treaty with the Indians, and pray God we never shall. We aren't like the Mexicans, always pushing, always grabbing off New Mexico, Arizona, California. We aren't colonial oppressors, thank God! No, it wouldn't have worked out, even if we American immigrants had secured our rights in Texas—" He lifted a short, heavy, percussion pistol in his hand and cocked it. "I hate to say it, but perhaps if we hadn't taken Payne and Jefferson so seriously—if we could only have paid lip service, and done what we really wanted to do, in our hearts ... no matter. I won't live to see our final disgrace."
He put the pistol to his head and blew out his brains.
O
rd was still gibbering when the Mexican cavalry stormed into the old mission, pulling down the flag and seizing him, dragging him before the resplendent little general in green and gold.
Since he was the only prisoner, Santa Anna questioned Ord carefully. When the sharp point of a bayonet had been thrust half an inch into his stomach, the Britainer seemed to come around. When he started speaking, and the Mexicans realized he was English, it went better with him. Ord was obviously mad, it seemed to Santa Anna, but since he spoke English and seemed educated, he could be useful. Santa Anna didn't mind the raving; he understood all about Napoleon's detention camps and what they had done to Britainers over there. In fact, Santa Anna was thinking of setting up a couple of those camps himself. When they had milked Ord dry, they threw him on a horse and took him along.
Thus John Ord had an excellent view of the battlefield when Santa Anna's cannon broke the American lines south of the Trinity. Unable to get his men across to safety, Sam Houston died leading the last, desperate charge against the Mexican regulars. After that, the American survivors were too tired to run from the cavalry that pinned them against the flooding river. Most of them died there. Santa Anna expressed complete indifference to what happened to the Texans' women and children.
Mexican soldiers found Jim Bowie hiding in a hut, wearing a plain linen tunic and pretending to be a civilian. They would not have discovered his identity had not some of the Texan women cried out, "Colonel Bowie—Colonel Bowie!" as he was led into the Mexican camp.
He was hauled before Santa Anna, and Ord was summoned to watch. "Well, don Jaime," Santa Anna remarked, "You have been a foolish man. I promised your wife's uncle to send you to Acapulco safely, though of course your lands are forfeit. You understand we must have lands for the veterans' program when this campaign is over—" Santa Anna smiled then. "Besides, since Ord here has told me how instrumental you were in the abandonment of the Alamo, I think the Emperor will agree to mercy in your case. You know, don Jaime, your compatriots had me worried back there. The Alamo might have been a tough nut to crack ... pues, no matter."
And since Santa Anna had always been broadminded, not objecting to light skin or immigrant background, he invited Bowie to dinner that night.
S
anta Anna turned to Ord. "But if we could catch this rascally war criminal, Crockett ... however, I fear he has escaped us. He slipped over the river with a fake passport, and the Indians have interned him."
"Sí, Señor Presidente," Ord said dully.
"Please, don't call me that," Santa Anna cried, looking around. "True, many of us officers have political ambitions, but Emperor Iturbide is old and vain. It could mean my head—"
Suddenly, Ord's head was erect, and the old, clear light was in his blue eyes. "Now I understand!" he shouted. "I thought Travis was raving back there, before he shot himself—and your talk of the Emperor! American respect for Indian rights! Jeffersonian form of government! Oh, those ponces who peddled me that X-4-A—the track jumper! I'm not back in my own past. I've jumped the time track—I'm back in a screaming alternate!"
"Please, not so loud, Señor Ord," Santa Anna sighed. "Now, we must shoot a few more American officers, of course. I regret this, you understand, and I shall no doubt be much criticized in French Canada and Russia, where there are still civilized values. But we must establish the Republic of the Empire once and for all upon this continent, that aristocratic tyranny shall not perish from the earth. Of course, as an Englishman, you understand perfectly, Señor Ord."
"Of course, excellency," Ord said.
"There are soft hearts—soft heads, I say—in Mexico who cry for civil rights for the Americans. But I must make sure that Mexican dominance is never again threatened north of the Rio Grande."
"Seguro, excellency," Ord said, suddenly. If the bloody X-4-A had jumped the track, there was no getting back, none at all. He was stuck here. Ord's blue eyes narrowed. "After all, it ... it is manifest destiny that the Latin peoples of North America meet at the center of the continent. Canada and Mexico shall share the Mississippi."
Santa Anna's dark eyes glowed. "You say what I have often thought. You are a man of vision, and much sense. You realize the Indios must go, whether they were here first or not. I think I will make you my secretary, with the rank of captain."
"Gracias, Excellency."
"Now, let us write my communique to the capital, Capitán Ord. We must describe how the American abandonment of the Alamo allowed me to press the traitor Houston so closely he had no chance to maneuver his men into the trap he sought. Ay, Capitán, it is a cardinal principle of the Anglo-Saxons, to get themselves into a trap from which they must fight their way out. This I never let them do, which is why I succeed where others fail ... you said something, Capitán?"
"Sí, Excellency. I said, I shall title our communique: 'Remember the Alamo,'" Ord said, standing at attention.
"Bueno! You have a gift for words. Indeed, if ever we feel the gringos are too much for us, your words shall once again remind us of the truth!" Santa Anna smiled. "I think I shall make you a major. You have indeed coined a phrase which shall live in history forever!"
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Contents
THE MATHEMATICIANS
By Arthur Feldman
They were in the garden. "Now, Zoe," said Zenia Hawkins to her nine-year-old daughter, "quit fluttering around, and papa will tell you a story."
Zoe settled down in the hammock. "A true story, papa?"
"It all happened exactly like I'm going to tell you," said Drake Hawkins, pinching Zoe's rosy cheek. "Now: two thousand and eleven years ago in 1985, figuring by the earthly calendar of that time, a tribe of beings from the Dog-star Sirius invaded the earth."
"And what did these beings look like, father?"
"Like humans in many, many respects. They each had two arms, two legs and all the other organs that humans are endowed with."
"Wasn't there any difference at all between the Star-beings and the humans, papa?"
"There was. The newcomers, each and all, had a pair of wings covered with green feathers growing from their shoulders, and long, purple tails."
"How many of these beings were there, father?"
; "Exactly three million and forty-one male adults and three female adults. These creatures first appeared on Earth on the island of Sardinia. In five weeks' time they were the masters of the entire globe."
"Didn't the Earth-lings fight back, papa?"
"The humans warred against the invaders, using bullets, ordinary bombs, super-atom bombs and gases."
Illustrator: A. Lake
"What were those things like, father?"
"Oh, they've passed out of existence long ago. 'Ammunition' they were called. The humans fought each other with such things."
"And not with ideas, like we do now, father?"
"No, with guns, just like I told you. But the invaders were immune to the ammunition."
"What does 'immune' mean?"
"Proof against harm. Then the humans tried germs and bacteria against the star-beings."
"What were those things?"
"Tiny, tiny bugs that the humans tried to inject into the bodies of the invaders to make them sicken and die. But the bugs had no effect at all on the star-beings."
"Go on, papa. These beings over-ran all Earth. Go on from there."
"You must know, these newcomers were vastly more intelligent than the Earth-lings. In fact, the invaders were the greatest mathematicians in the System."
"What's the System? And what does mathematician mean?"
"The Milky Way. A mathematician is one who is good at figuring, weighing, measuring, clever with numbers."
"Then, father, the invaders killed off all the Earth-lings?"
"Not all. They killed many, but many others were enslaved. Just as the humans had used horses and cattle, the newcomers so used the humans. They made workers out of some, others they slaughtered for food."
"Papa, what sort of language did these Star-beings talk?"
"A very simple language, but the humans were never able to master it. So, the invaders, being so much smarter, mastered all the languages of the globe."
"What did the Earth-lings call the invaders, father?"
"'An-vils'. Half angels, half devils."
"Then, papa, everything was peaceful on Earth after the An-vils enslaved the humans?"
"For a little while. Then, some of the most daring of the humans, led by a man named Knowall, escaped into the interior of Greenland. This Knowall was a psychiatrist, the foremost on Earth."
"What's a psychiatrist?"
"A dealer in ideas."
"Then, he was very rich?"
"He'd been the richest human on Earth. After some profound thought, Knowall figured a way to rid the earth of the An-vils."
"How, papa?"
"He perfected a method, called the Knowall-Hughes, Ilinski technique, of imbuing these An-vils with human emotions."
"What does 'imbuing' mean?"
"He filled them full of and made them aware of."
Zenia interrupted, "Aren't you talking a bit above the child's understanding, Drake?"
"No, mama," said Zoe. "I understand what papa explained. Now, don't interrupt."
"So, Knowall," continued Drake, "filled the An-vils with human feelings such as Love, Hate, Ambition, Jealousy, Malice, Envy, Despair, Hope, Fear, Shame and so on. Very soon the An-vils were acting like humans, and in ten days, terrible civil wars wiped out the An-vils' population by two-thirds."
"Then, papa, the An-vils finally killed off each other?"
"Almost, until among them a being named Zalibar, full of saintliness and persuasion, preached the brotherhood of all An-vils. The invaders, quickly converted, quit their quarrels, and the Earth-lings were even more enslaved."
"Oh, papa, weren't Knowall and his followers in Greenland awfully sad the way things had turned out?"
"For a while. Then Knowall came up with the final pay-off."
"Is that slang, papa? Pay-off?"
"Yes. The coup-de-grace. The ace in the hole that he'd saved, if all else failed."
"I understand, papa. The idea that would out-trump anything the other side had to offer. What was it, father? What did they have?"
"Knowall imbued the An-vils with nostalgia."
"What is nostalgia?"
"Home sickness."
"Oh, papa, wasn't Knowall smart? That meant, the An-vils were all filled with the desire to fly back to the star from where they had started."
"Exactly. So, one day, all the An-vils, an immense army, flapping their great green wings, assembled in the Black Hills of North America, and, at a given signal, they all rose up from Earth and all the humans chanted, 'Glory, glory, the day of our deliverance!'"
"So then, father, all the An-vils flew away from Earth?"
"Not all. There were two child An-vils, one male and one female, aged two years, who had been born on Earth, and they started off with all the other An-vils and flew up into the sky. But when they reached the upper limits of the strato-sphere, they hesitated, turned tail and fluttered back to Earth where they had been born. Their names were Zizzo and Zizza."
"And what happened to Zizzo and Zizza, papa?"
"Well, like all the An-vils, they were great mathematicians. So, they multiplied."
"Oh, papa," laughed Zoe, flapping her wings excitedly, "that was a very nice story!"
* * *
Contents
ONE OUT OF TEN
By J. Anthony Ferlaine
There may be a town called Mars in Montana. But little Mrs. Freda Dunny didn't come from there!
I watched Don Phillips, the commercial announcer, out of the corner of my eye. The camera in front of me swung around and lined up on my set.
"... And now, on with the show," Phillips was saying. "And here, ready to test your wits, is your quizzing quiz master, Smiling Jim Parsons."
I smiled into the camera and waited while the audience applauded. The camera tally light went on and the stage manager brought his arm down and pointed at me.
"Good afternoon," I said into the camera, "here we go again with another half hour of fun and prizes on television's newest, most exciting, game, 'Parlor Quiz.' In a moment I'll introduce you to our first contestant. But first here is a special message to you mothers ..."
The baby powder commercial appeared on the monitor and I walked over to the next set. They had the first contestant lined up for me. I smiled and took her card from the floor man. She was a middle-aged woman with a faded print dress and old-style shoes. I never saw the contestants until we were on the air. They were screened before the show by the staff. They usually tried to pick contestants who would make good show material--an odd name or occupation--or somebody with twenty kids. Something of that nature.
I looked at the card for the tip off. "Mrs. Freda Dunny," the card said. "Ask her where she comes from."
I smiled at the contestant again and took her by the hand. The tally light went on again and I grinned into the camera.
"Well, now, we're all set to go ... and our first contestant today is this charming little lady right here beside me. Mrs. Freda Dunny." I looked at the card. "How are you, Mrs. Dunny?"
"Fine! Just fine."
"All set to answer a lot of questions and win a lot of prizes?"
"Oh, I'll win all right," said Mrs. Dunny, smiling around at the audience.
The audience tittered a bit at the remark. I looked at the card again.
"Where are you from, Mrs. Dunny?"
"Mars!" said Mrs. Dunny.
"Mars!" I laughed, anticipating the answer. "Mars, Montana? Mars, Peru?"
"No, Mars! Up there," she said, pointing up in the air. "The planet Mars. The fourth planet out from the sun."
My assistant looked unhappy.
I smiled again, wondering what the gag was. I decided to play along.
"Well, well," I said, "all the way from Mars, eh? And how long have you been on Earth, Mrs. Dunny?"
"Oh, about thirty or forty years. I've been here nearly all my life. Came here when I was a wee bit of a girl."
"Well," I said, "you're practically an Earthwoman by now, aren't you?" The audie
nce laughed. "Do you plan on going back someday or have you made up your mind to stay here on Earth for the rest of your days?"
"Oh, I'm just here for the invasion," said Mrs. Dunny. "When that's over I'll probably go back home again."
"The invasion?"
"Yes, the invasion of Earth. As soon as enough of us are here we'll get started."
"You mean there are others here, too?"
"Oh, yes, there are several million of us here in the United States already--and more are on the way."
"There are only about a hundred and seventy million people in the United States, Mrs. Dunny," I said. "If there are several million Martians among us, one out of every hundred would have to be a Martian."
"One out of every ten!" said Mrs. Dunny. "That's what the boss said just the other day. 'We're getting pretty close to the number we need to take over Earth.'"
"What do you need?" I asked. "One to one? One Martian for every Earthman?"
"Oh, no," said Mrs. Dunny, "one Martian is worth ten Earthmen. The only reason we're waiting is we don't want any trouble."
"You don't look any different from us Earth people, Mrs. Dunny. How does one tell the difference between a Martian and an Earthman when one sees one?"
"Oh, we don't look any different," said Mrs. Dunny. "Some of the kids don't even know they're Martians. Most mothers don't tell their children until they're grown-up. And there are other children who are never told because they just don't develop their full powers."
"What powers?"
"Oh, telepathy, thought control--that sort of thing."
"You mean that Martians can read people's thoughts?"
"Sure! It's no trouble at all. It's very easy really, once you get the hang of it."
"Can you read my mind?" I asked, smiling.
"Sure!" said Mrs. Dunny, smiling up at me. "That's why I said that I'd know the answers. I'll be able to read the answers from your mind when you look at that sheet of paper."