A Long Time Until Now

by Michael Z. Williamson

  He finished, and climbed into the tepee to straighten his gear. He had privacy screens in his wedge, between poncho, a sheet and a towel. Barker’s space was on one side, and Ortiz’ on the other. The cloth worked okay to create walls, and they worked for visual seclusion, but you still knew others were there, and could hear them snore. Trinidad and Devereaux were halfway around the circle watching a movie on tablet.

  He wanted to be actually alone, so he went back outside.

  The sun was down, the sky beautiful, but he didn’t feel it. The Milky Way arched from north to south across the west, clear enough to show colors. They had an amazing wilderness.

  He didn’t care.

  Across the stream he heard chattering and calls. That was what the fight had been about. Getting those women free, and hopefully back to their families and friends. He walked past the fire.

  “I’m going across the stream for a few, Sergeant Spencer.”

  “Got it. You’re unarmed?”

  “I have a knife. Is there a problem?”

  “No, I don’t want to risk a rifle or a fight. It’s late, don’t be long.”

  “I won’t.” He walked in close and muttered up to the hatch, “I don’t feel real good about killing a man, and I want to know they’re okay in the bargain.”

  Spencer whispered down, “Okay at being recovered? They came along freely, but I understand.”

  He crossed on the stepping stones, dull gray against black water in the starlit night. The creek bubbled under them. He took the short trail twisting up the bank and through the brush, and came out onto the rolling ground on the east bank. South was the goat pen, and he could smell it. Caswell, Ortiz and Dalton hunted east of here, but there was no game tonight. There were a couple of lean-tos, two small fires and several clusters of women. The three men walked around with spears. As he approached, they smiled and greeted him.

  “Aa!” Hi.

  “Aa.”

  “Woo !xe?” You good?

  “Hm !xe, oo.” I’m good, thanks.

  He walked around the perimeter. They really didn’t take much space. No wonder those lodges could fit so many. Though this was a bivouac, and sleeping touching would help them stay warm since they had at most a hide wrap each. All their other possessions fit into a small pouch. The gear he had seemed like a trove by comparison.

  On the third trip around, a young woman came up alongside.

  “Aa,” she said with a smile, and a touch of his forearm. It sent a shiver through him. She had long fingers and met him at eye level.

  “Aa.”

  Her hair was braided around her head, she was his height and as lean as they all were, with firm breasts and a slim but curved ass. He still couldn’t define that skin tone. It was olive, café and tan all at once.

  “Xi!e, kizh ae oong.” She smiled even more widely and laid a hand on his arm.

  He didn’t know those words, but it came across as “My hero,” as lame as that was. Her smile was cheerful and inviting, and that tilt of the head said she was interested.

  On the one hand, he was horny as all hell, and lonely, and goddamn he wanted a human being to touch.

  She was stroking his arm now.

  On the other hand, he wasn’t supposed to, and who knew what diseases there were, and she had a strong body odor, and there was a crowd. Not to mention the likelihood of someone walking in on them, or seeing them in NVG.

  Maybe if they sat down in this dip for a bit. He could at least cuddle with her.

  He had a strong odor, too. There was some deodorant left, but why bother? Every day was filthy and sweaty.

  She found his clothes fascinating, and almost broke buttons yanking at his shirt.

  “Ni,” he said softly. “Hm !ka woo.” I show you. Context mattered more than word order, as did tone. He undid a button slowly and she reached over to trace the hole in the fabric with her fingertips.

  Well, from there, she figured out his pants readily enough. The belt gave her fits.

  He glanced nervously around to see if anyone could see them. The moon wasn’t up yet, but night vision would work fine.

  There was a gaggle of women between them and the COB. Probably not by accident. Then there were still a few trees and shrubs, so he had some additional screening.

  He had no idea what they considered romantic, or what she expected from him, but once his belt was released, she slipped hands inside his pants and around him. She seemed a bit confused, and her fingers traced around his circumcision scar. Of course, they didn’t do that. She looked up quizzically, then back down, then followed her fingers with her mouth. But even her warm shoulder against his hand was a sensual rush. Human touch was precious. In contrast to the cold air and long deprivation, it was a tumbling rush in his nerves.

  Her lips were full, warm, wet . . .

  He’d been afraid he’d be done in seconds, but the sensation made him shiver and almost cry. He let his hands follow the contours of her shoulders, her sides, her breasts and back to the warm skin of her neck, and shivered again. Between pre-Mob, deployment, and here, he hadn’t even hugged another human being in nine months.

  Soon enough, his eyes pinpointed, his brain shut down, and waves of heat rolled over him. He realized he was clutching at her arms and straining.

  He had no idea what she wanted in return, or what their culture expected. She sat up, smiled and leaned in to hug him, her lips brushing his neck.

  He felt physically calm and sated, while mentally in an intense overload from the sensation of touching someone. But emotionally, he felt worse than before. No one else had this, and he felt as if he’d exploited the poor girl. Then, he wasn’t sure how old she was. It was unlikely she was eighteen, despite her amazing technique, but her people didn’t care about that; his did. He did.

  He kept hugging her because it was cold now and she was warm and smooth and felt so good, while he got his pants fastened with one hand. There was quite a bit of grass in them, drawn up the back as he wiggled in.

  He said, “Hm wi. Oo.” I go (imperative tone). Thank you. He clutched hands with her, and she hugged him again. It didn’t seem he owed her anything, and that fit what he’d seen in their camp. Sex was just something fun to do, and even their couples shifted around from time to time.

  He walked past the screening group, who made a few comments that seemed friendly enough. The stepping stones weren’t very visible, but he found them and made it across.

  Ortiz was on watch now, and Ortiz wouldn’t rat him out even if he’d seen anything. But Alexander was next to him.

  “How are they doing?” she asked.

  “Mostly calm, healthy.”

  “Good,” she said. Her face was impassive, but as he passed by, she cracked a hint of smile and turned away.

  Fuck. Busted.

  From inside Number Nine, he heard her voice. She’d ducked down inside the turret.

  “Oglesby.”

  “Uh, yeah?”

  “Don’t tell anyone. You’ll just make them jealous.”

  “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  Her voice was musical as she said, “Boy, your expression is a billboard. Take a few minutes by the fire until fatigue kicks in.”

  “Uh, roger that.” Thank God she was cool. He stepped up two steps, and whispered, “Er, what did you guys see?”

  “I figured you got a blowjob, but I wasn’t shooting a porno, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Right. NVG on your camera?”

  “You don’t think the LT trusts them this close to camp, do you? And then there’s the Neos, who may come back in force.”

  “I didn’t ask her and I wasn’t trying.”

  “Yeah. Well, as they say, don’t do it again unless you bring enough for everyone.”

  “I didn’t think you swung that way,” he joked. She’d been married for years, right?

  She said, “At this point, I swing modern human.”

  “Right. That’s what got me. I just wanted held.” He g
iggled. It was hilarious.

  She strangled on a laugh. “So go chill out. Well done.”

  “Thanks. Uh . . . part of it was in response to the firefight.”

  “More like an execution. Yeah. I’m not comfortable myself. That’s why I’m up here. I probably won’t sleep tonight.”

  “Shot anyone before?”

  “No. And I don’t regret it, but I regret that I don’t. It’s going to take some meditation and ritual to get the stain off.”

  “I might join you.”

  “For?”

  “Meditation and ritual. I prayed a bit earlier, but I’m not very religious. It didn’t help.”

  “Then mine probably won’t either, but I don’t mind if you try.”

  “Thanks. And . . . thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Now piss off.” But she said it with a smile.

  His face glowed now. He had all kinds of emotions rushing through him. As exciting as that had been, he’d avoid doing that again soon.

  And who was he kidding? He was a healthy male. If he got a chance, he’d take it.

  CHAPTER 17

  Sean Elliott crawled out to see the Urushu breaking camp in the chill dawn. How they managed without sleeping bags or tents in this near-freezing weather amazed him. He was wearing gore-tex, gloves and watch cap.

  They were scavenging greens in the field and filling skins with water in the creek. That first part was going to hinder the soldiers’ food gathering. Still, they’d managed to rescue forty-three women and girls. He looked around and found who he needed around the fire.

  “Oglesby,” he said.

  “Uh, yes, sir?” Oglesby replied. He looked jittery and nervous.

  “We’re going to go interrogate them before they go. Caswell, can you come too, please?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “Good. I don’t want to step on anyone or make them uncomfortable, but I need information.”

  “Roger that.” Oglesby nodded eagerly.

  They stepped across the river, Oglesby deferring to him, Caswell leading. The grass and growth were well-trodden. One of the penned goats was missing, and there were chunks of a goat roasting over a fire.

  “There are more men now,” he said. They must have arrived overnight.

  Caswell said, “Yes, I count eight.”

  “Interesting. Well, let’s find someone to talk to. Who do you suggest?”

  She pointed. “Let’s try the older lady there.”

  “Okay. Get us introduced.”

  Oglesby stepped forward and spoke slowly but apparently clearly in their language. The woman spoke back.

  “She’s an elder, sir. She says they are very grateful for our hospitality, and regret they have no gifts.”

  “Assure her that’s fine, and we were glad we could help. Did we get everyone?”

  The translation was, “She says we got everyone at that camp, but some were taken downriver to a new village. I gather it’s a mile or two. She asks if our spirits will allow us to smite them dead, too.”

  “Tell her we can’t now, but will ask our spirits in a few weeks.”

  Caswell said, “I want to carefully ask, how were they treated?”

  The woman clicked, trilled and sang while gesturing, and Oglesby translated.

  “She says they were taken in and made mates to the new men. Their spirits demanded a new way of living. Some of the men and boys were killed. The rest were chased off. Some women, especially the hunters, went with them. The elders weren’t harmed, nor girls, but several young boys were killed. Some managed to run away but no one knows where they are. Some women ran away at night. Some of them are safe in the village east of here, upriver. The new men started posting guards, I think she said, and forcing them to stay. Since the spirits were with the new men, they agreed.”

  “Damn. Caswell?”

  “I’m conflicted, sir. What’s described is classic kill the men and rape the women. It probably starts about the time of agriculture and pastoral herding, with the concept of property. That includes women. Patriarchal societies don’t want to raise gene lines they don’t control, and commodities became scarce as population increased. At the same time, death and injury are just part of life here, to both groups. They’re very fatalistic, so probably don’t have a concept of rape.”

  “Good God, you don’t mean they enjoy it?” Was that even possible?

  She turned dark red. “No, sir. No I do not. But whatever happens is because the spirits require it. Even more than the Muslims with ‘Insh Allah.’ One adapts to whatever happens and moves on.”

  “So that village is gone.”

  Oglesby said, “Alexander has the photos, sir. It’s been rebuilt, there’s some proto-herding and proto-planting.”

  He breathed in a draft of cold air. “Goddamnit. Much as I’d like to invite them to live near us, we’ve got to establish ourselves before we start a feudal town.”

  Just then, a young woman wove through the crowd, came up to Oglesby and hugged him vigorously, her hands on his neck and chest. He carefully eased her away, but she persisted, confused.

  “Someone you saved personally?” Sean asked.

  “I think so, sir.”

  “Well, be polite, but don’t get entangled.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Caswell said, “They should be safe enough in their other village, though it depends on potential raiding for slaves. I gather the new group are mostly male.”

  “I think so,” Oglesby said. That chick definitely liked him.

  Sean said, “If we see them trying to pass us, we’ll have a polite conversation. They know what rifles can do. I’m reluctant to shoot, but much like keeping the peace back home, we’re going to keep it here when we can do so.”

  Caswell asked, “Can we send a security detail with them, sir? I volunteer.”

  “I’d like to, but I’ll have to think about it. When do they plan to leave?”

  Oglesby said, “They plan to leave about midday, of course. I asked why. They said the lions sleep then, and they have only eight spears.” The girl was on him again.

  “Does that give them enough time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Don’t tell them about an escort, but if we can, I’ll send one.”

  “Hooah.”

  Caswell said, “Roger and thanks, sir.”

  There was more talking. Oglesby said, “They want to know if Doc can look at a couple of them. One has a lame foot. One has some sores.”

  “That seems doable. I wonder if my phone works at this range.” He flipped it on. “Gina, can you hear me?”

  “Yes, sir. A bit fuzzy.”

  “Send Doc over to look at some people.”

  After a moment’s pause, she said, “He’s on the way, sir.”

  Oglesby said, “They want to know why our spirits can give us thunder, but won’t let us take their village back.”

  “Thunder has a lot of power. It must only be used when talking and arguing won’t work, and even then only if lives are threatened.”

  “They accept that, sir, but say our spirits may be wise, but are . . . detached, I guess.”

  “Detachment avoids anger.”

  Devereaux arrived.

  “Morning, sir. Do I get to examine the women?” he asked with a big grin.

  Caswell rolled her eyes and muttered, “Fucking typical.”

  Devereaux said, “I wasn’t trying to put anyone down, just some field humor.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t find it funny.”

  “I apologize.”

  “Just don’t do it again.”

  “I’ll try.” He looked embarrassed, flushing purple under his dark skin.

  “I need to head back,” Sean said. “Caswell, do you want to keep an eye on things here?”

  “Please, sir.”

  “Do it. Oglesby, you need to explain to that girl that she can’t stay here with you.”

  “Understood, sir.”

  It almost looked like sh
e was romantically interested, but there hadn’t been any time or place, had there? Alexander had been along. He wouldn’t have done anything in front of her, and they went straight into a fight. He’d been out of camp last night, but only a few minutes, and within sight of the guard post. Right?

  Right?

  The first woman did have a rough looking foot. It seemed to have some infection. Caswell sat with her as Devereaux went to work.

  Sean said, “Oglesby, come here a moment.”

  “Yes, sir?”

  Quietly he asked, “Did you avoid any risk of pregnancy and disease?”

  The kid shrunk and turned Day-Glo pink.

  “Yes, and I think so, sir. It wasn’t anything I planned. More her idea. Is it that obvious?”

  “Maybe. Devereaux probably won’t get it. I’m pretty sure Caswell figured it out. I can tell. So keep your mouth shut and I’ll find a way to tell her.”

  “Uh. I’m sorry, sir.”

  “As soon as we decided to interact with them, this was all inevitable. Violence. Sex. Distractions. That’s why I was trying to avoid it and will continue to do so.”

  “Yes, sir. I don’t want to just dump her, but it was a one-time thing and they’re not staying. So I’m being nice until they leave.”

  “The problem comes if I send an escort. You have to go.”

  “Ah, hell, I’m sorry, sir.” The kid looked professionally embarrassed.

  Kid? He was maybe three years younger than Sean, but those three years mattered.

  “Just keep it under control. Invoke our spirits if you need to.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He did want to send that escort. Getting in good with more natives meant potential labor later, and both trade and knowledge of anything else edible.

  “Take over there for a bit,” he said. “Caswell, can I see you?”

  Caswell patted the woman’s hand, rose and came over.

  He asked, “What’s wrong with her foot?”

  “A fractured toe. Apparently she kicked something hard. I’m hoping it was an accident and not abuse.”

  “I figure abuse is likely?”

  “It doesn’t seem to be, but one of them has some beating that looks like fists. There’s always a few men like that. I gather the rest think of them as valuable property.”