He also knew he shouldn’t be tallying up the native chicks for his own drives, but at some point he was going to need a wife, and this is where they were.
The three Urushu men were thrilled. They’d found their mates, and possibly one or two more, with the way they didn’t actually have defined spouses. They typically had one at a time, but drifted back and forth between partners. Serial monogamy.
But those Neolithic types would probably be here in force. Or skulking. It might be an idea to set up some booby traps or signals. He’d talk to the LT about that.
He sat down alone in the dark on the woodpile west of the tepee and thought about things.
The time frame bothered him. The Bible said the Earth was about 6000 years old. Ussher had calculated 4004 BC for Creation. He could be wrong by a few years, but it was hard to place where these groups might be. Assuming it wasn’t long after the Deluge, the Old Stone Age and New Stone Age had to be within a few generations. Could people look that different in that short of time? Obviously, if God dictated so. Bows were not that big a development. As to dogs, that Russian experiment had taken only a few generations to domesticate foxes.
But Devereaux knew his Scripture very well, quoted it a length, and insisted they were fifteen thousand years back. That was nine thousand earlier than Ussher’s dating. Could Usher have been off by that much?
If the year had changed in length, which was one of the theories for the Deluge, then sure. That would be a really neat bit of information. The irony was he couldn’t take it back home.
Of course, all the researchers he might discuss this with were in the future, too, and everyone here thought he was crazy.
Then he decided they were all crazy in their own way. Alexander had her new age goddess worship. Caswell had feminism. Spencer thought he believed in nothing, which was obviously false. They each had their thing.
He’d killed a man today, who’d not been baptized in Christ, but probably didn’t know of Christ, so his soul should be safe. He’d pray God for forgiveness, and let Him know he respected the man’s soul. He too was lost in time and in the world, unable to understand what was happening, and didn’t have a Christian moral code. He deserved compassion, not hatred for his fear and anger.
After that, it was in God’s hands, and God would do what was best.
This exile had brought him closer to a true feeling of the Holy Spirit than he’d ever felt. Perhaps that was why he was here. It was even possible God would send them home, once they had learned what they must. He’d pray for that, too.
They needed to avoid firefights as much as possible. That was something else to think on. There was nothing wrong with violence when necessary, but these poor bastards were so outclassed it wasn’t fair, even with the numerical differences.
Feeling calmer, he stood and walked back to the kitchen. He realized he was still in full battle rattle with a loaded weapon. He cleared and safed it against the woodpile, then opened his armor for ventilation.
There was something smoked for dinner, and more roots and greens. But dang, he’d love some potatoes, or peanut butter, or both.
Crap, that sounded like something a pregnant woman would crave.
He grabbed a wooden plate of grub from Barker, thanked him, and found a seat under the windbreak. He was the first one with food. Caswell and Oglesby were busy, and Ortiz took food to them. Alexander was in the truck. Doc was out with the guests, too, and the LT, leaving Trinidad on watch, Barker serving.
“How are you doing, Dalton?” SFC Spencer asked, sitting second.
“Good enough, I guess,” he said. “I don’t feel real great about killing some poor dumbass who had no way to know about body armor and rifles.”
“They don’t know about NVG either. Which may be useful. But yeah, it’s not a fair fight. From what the LT says, they attacked first and you didn’t provoke them.”
“I tried not to. I guess we could have set off some signal we don’t know about.”
“Can’t help that. You kept our people alive and rescued those women. It wasn’t what we intended, but it’s a good outcome. Well done,” Spencer said with a firm tone.
Rich said, “Thanks. Though I figure the men will try to come get them.” The savages could learn, but didn’t seem to do so very quickly.
Spencer said, “Well, then we may have to teach them a bit more.” He chewed while staring into space.
“It almost sounds like you like the idea.”
Spencer said, “Not really. But if we need to do it, bring it on.”
“How’s that wine of yours coming?” He indicated the tent, where Spencer had the five gallon cooler.
“Do you know anything about fermentation?”
“Not a lot. It ferments, it makes alcohol.”
“Yup, and it’s making alcohol. But it’s still full of must—ground up fruit, and yeast and residue, which is bitter. It needs a few more weeks to finish, then we’ll have to filter it. I try a whiff and a taste every few days.”
“Is it going to be any good?”
“I’ve used wild fruit before. It’ll be dry and musty, but should be drinkable and alcoholic.”
“Awesome.” He didn’t drink much, but damn, that sounded good about now. “If only we could have bread and cheese with the wine.”
“Cheese we can do, with the penned goats. Good cheese from goats.”
“Roger that. And bread?”
Spencer shrugged. “I think Caswell said all grass seeds are edible, but we’ll have to harvest a lot of them, roast and grind them, then make dough. And these are going to be smaller grains and have thicker husks than anything in our era. The last century, back home I mean, grain was bred and modified a lot.”
“I’ll take it. If we can do cheese, can we do butter?”
“Yes, eventually. Me, Alexander, Barker and Caswell all know something about bread, cheese and butter.”
He said, “I know what I want for Christmas.”
Spencer said, “Likely next fall. We just don’t have the manpower.”
“Yeah.” He paused a moment. “I find beliefs here interesting.”
“The natives?”
“Them too. The Urushu sort of pick and choose their spirits. Animism, and not much of it.”
“Right.”
He chewed a piece of meat, then crunched up a root. Not bad. Not as chewy as before. The smokehouse helped age stuff, too.
He said, “It doesn’t seem very useful. They can’t really pray for anything, or try for anything.”
Spencer said, “That’s typical. They have no basis for understanding the world. And organized religion with a pantheon or a head deity has to have rules, which you can learn.”
“Right. That’s the key to Western Civilization. It wouldn’t exist without Judeo-Christian ethos.”
Spencer shrugged. “Eh. The Hindus and Buddhists might argue. And Islam as an offshoot of Judaism. But you’re not wrong, no.”
“I really don’t know anything about Hindus or Buddhists or Shintos? Yeah, Shintos. What I’m getting at is, if you can pick and choose and change your beliefs easily, you don’t develop. It’s like a kid’s game with no rules.” He hadn’t thought about this before. He hadn’t had to.
Spencer stared into the dark east. “Yeah, that’s a good way of looking at it.”
“I have no idea what these Neo people think. But it’s probably not a monotheism. The word of God wasn’t out here then.”
“I don’t think the word of your God was anywhere at this time, but I know we disagree on that.”
“So that brings us to us. Most of us are Christian, about half Catholic, half Protestant. Similar enough in the basics. We have a belief, a faith, the Trinity, God’s Scripture, and His rules for the universe. Physics, chemistry, whatever. And right and wrong, which are codified in law.”
“Yes?”
“Well, you’ve got your beliefs and Alexander has her new age stuff, if I can call it that. You talk to her a bit.”
; “I do talk to her. I find her beliefs as . . . well, I really don’t see any difference.”
“You don’t see any difference? Between that . . . stuff and Christianity?”
Spencer shrugged. “Not enough to matter.”
“But . . . all her stuff came about in the last half century.”
“Yes, and? It’s based on older stuff, some reconstructed, some inferred, just as yours is based on the Councils of Nicea and other assemblies and conferences.”
“Well, sure, but we have documentation.”
“So does she. And beliefs.”
“I haven’t talked to her much, but other pagans I’ve met are flaky.”
Spencer licked the wooden plate. The juices had been pretty good. After they finished, they’d rinse and smoke the plates to sterilize, and scour them with rocks every couple of days.
Looking up in the dim flickers, Spencer said, “Yeah, she calls them fluffy bunnies. The same criticism you have of the Urushu. They pick and choose and don’t actually get anywhere.”
That was ironic. And interesting.
“Okay.”
“As I said, not much difference between you.”
He said, “But that last ritual she did. I watched because I was curious. It was damned near a ripoff of a Christian service.”
“Well, sure. The Celtic, Greek and Roman paganisms influenced Christianity. And now Christianity influences their reconstructions. I’m sure any pagans in Japan have some Shinto roots. Read Tom Sawyer?”
“Yeah?”
“Tom had all these occult and superstitious things he did, but was in a strong Christian environment. Beliefs create, and beliefs also follow.”
Spencer bit into an apple. The crunch sounded a bit mushy. It was end of the season for those, and Rich was going to miss them until next fall.
He did remember that from Tom Sawyer. The Doodlebug, the deathwatch, the oaths in blood.
“That’s so obvious I don’t know how I missed it.”
“Because you’re inside and I’m outside.”
“Okay, can I ask you about that?”
Spencer said, “Sure, go for it.”
“So what are your beliefs based on?”
“Nothing.” The man sounded completely calm.
“Oh, come on. You have to believe something.”
It was dusk and hard to see, but in the faint glow of the fire, Spencer shook his head.
“Nope. The universe exists. I know that, because I’m here. Other than that, I have no idea and won’t guess. I can guess what the Aral Sea, northwest of here five hundred miles, might look like. I have some information on it. What people are there, I have less of a guess. I know there’s glaciers north, but not how far north. I don’t know what year it is. I don’t know how we got here. So I don’t guess.”
“You don’t guess why we’re here?”
“It could be anything. Some natural phenomena. A side effect. Deliberate, but by whom?”
“The ‘whom’ is what I’m interested in. That’s the why.”
“And I have no information, so I can’t guess.”
“But everyone believes in some sort of higher power.”
Spencer shook his head, rather firmly. “No, they don’t.”
“You don’t believe that.”
Spencer sighed and said, “I get that you do. I get that most people do. That’s fine. If you need something to reference, I support it. Life’s tough. But I don’t believe in any higher power that we could communicate with, or would be concerned with individuals. I suppose some agency may have created the universe, but without any evidence, I’m not going to guess at the nature of it.”
“But evidence is all around you.”
“The world is all around me. Some parts I understand, some I don’t. Some the scientists do, some they don’t. It exists. That only proves it exists.”
“I don’t understand how you can look at the world and say there’s no God.”
“And I don’t know how you can look at the world and pretend you know there’s a God and what he wants. So we’re even.”
“Nothing? You never once felt the Presence in combat, or in an accident, or when sick?”
“Nope.”
He wanted to feel sorry for the man, but he seemed perfectly comfortable and cheerful.
“So what drives your moral compass?”
Spencer leaned back, largely shadow in the increasing dark. “Ah, that question. Well, the largest part is enlightened self-interest. If we all help each other, eventually it comes back to us.”
“But you could get ahead by taking.”
“And if everyone did, society would fall apart. Witness communism.”
“They lacked God.”
“They lacked concern in their culture, because it was imposed. There’s a couple of books about this I don’t recall the titles of . . . and we wouldn’t have them anyway, but citizen armies do better than slave armies. Why did you enlist?”
“To serve my country.”
“Exactly. Your country. We own our country. It doesn’t belong to some petty king who thinks he’s God. And your God asks you to help others, which is a practical and smart thing to do. Religions bent on theft and brutality don’t lead to stable cultures. If there are any. People seem to be pretty social.”
“But you don’t have, or claim you don’t, have any power to stop you from doing that.”
“Sure I do. That power is me.”
“That’s pretty arrogant.”
“Maybe. But I know I exist. And I have to answer to me. And consider this: I’m not expecting any punishment or reward. I take my actions free of any eternal consequence.”
“You’ll face them.”
“Possibly. But I don’t know the nature of them and don’t believe them, so they don’t matter, any more than Gina’s Triple Goddess matters to you. I take my actions because I decide I must.”
“That doesn’t seem stable.”
“What percentage of Death Row inmates are atheists? What percentage are Christian?”
That one. “Yeah, I’ve heard that before. Those aren’t good Christians.”
“Fine. Where are the bad atheists? They should be about five percent of the total. They’re under a quarter percent.”
“So you believe your system is better, then?”
“No, because it’s not a system and I don’t believe. I observe that atheists commit fewer crimes.”
“But without a moral compass—”
Spencer cut in, “Without your moral compass. But clearly, we have one.”
He sat and stared for a moment.
“Sergeant Spencer, this has been a very productive and educational conversation.”
Spencer asked, “Something wrong?” He sounded concerned.
“Nothing at all. I still don’t understand you. But I guess I grasp that you understand you.”
“As well as a man can, I try to understand myself.”
“I have a lot to think about.”
“Sure. It’s watch time for me.” Spencer rose and headed out.
Rich often said in public that any faith was good that led to a peaceful world, but he didn’t really mean it. But here, an atheist and a pagan did as well as he did. With viewpoints he couldn’t grasp. How could one not believe in some kind of God? But the man wasn’t lying and didn’t sound confused. And he didn’t seem to believe anything. All the other atheists he’d met had some sort of belief system and were in denial.
Maybe he was closer to Buddhism, and could clear his mind?
A world without God made no sense.
There was a lot more to think about.
CHAPTER 16
Dan Oglesby sat down late to dinner. Half of the team were dealing with night chores or asleep. He hoped his façade worked. He’d never been in combat until today, and he’d shot a man. The poor fucker didn’t have a chance, stick against bullet.
He wasn’t hungry, but he needed to eat.
Elliott joined him. The fire
side was himself, Caswell, Barker and the LT.
“What is this?” he asked about the round little pod.
Barker said, “I’m not sure what it is now, but I’m pretty sure in ten thousand years it will be a very juicy melon.”
He must have looked disappointed.
Barker said, “Yeah, I know. There is nothing that looks like what we’re used to eating, except animals. Even the wild fruit back home has been adapted from thousands of years of agriculture.”
That wasn’t it, but if they thought that, it would help cover his thoughts.
“What are the Urushu eating?”
Caswell pointed into the near dark where a couple of fires glowed, “The men hunted an antelope. They’ve got windbreaks and a fire. The women have been plucking grass and building bed platforms.”
“So what’s the plan for them, sir?” he asked Elliott.
The LT almost grinned. “Plan? There ain’t no plan. They’ve got relatives upriver. They’re all grateful to us. They asked if we could go back for more, but I’m reluctant to try another face to face unless they come here.”
Dan said, “The Neoliths didn’t really want to talk.”
“The ones there didn’t. Here they did.”
Caswell said, “It may be they have different factions or that they came from two groups. It’s possible two villages had a joint hunting party. Or their attitude may vary on the strength they can present.”
Elliott said, “So we’re going to finish the wall. We may have to adapt to a goat pen inside, with hunting and gathering to supplement. But that would give us dairy, eventually, and hair for spinning into yarn. I’d like to thank Jenny and Gina for their input on that.”
“You’re welcome, sir,” Caswell said. Alexander was either in the vehicle or asleep. He wondered how she felt, having splashed that guy’s brains.
He didn’t want to remember that visual in the chill dark.
He ate in silence. The man had been about to stab a spear into him. Except his armor would have stopped it. Except the others would have joined in, too. Except they should have planned for that. Goddammit.
The melon didn’t taste like much. It was vaguely fruitlike. It might almost be cucumber or squash, but faintly sweet.
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