Freedom's Sons

by H. A. Covington

  “Clearly they expect their tame scientists to denounce Lost Creek as a Nazi propaganda hoax,” Jason told them. “I think we need to expect that as well, frankly. But things may not go all their way. We’ve chosen the specific men and women we invited very carefully.”

  “We?” asked Bob.

  “This is being done by the university in close consultation with the Political Bureau,” said Jason. “They see long term advantage in confronting the Zionists with truth and forcing them to pervert or suppress it. Inevitably they will get caught doing so, and their immunity from accountability is by no means what it used to be since they have been shown to be distinctly vincible over the past two generations. Establishment history and science has screwed up time and again and been caught out at it, from the so-called Holocaust to Saddam Hussein’s non-existent weapons of mass destruction, from the global warming hoax to the alleged equality of the races, things nobody really believes any more because the practical experience of our lives and simple common sense disprove it all. The object is to smash racial and political PC orthodoxy in the scientific and academic world by forcing it to trip over its own shoelaces, if you will pardon that rather strained metaphor.”

  “I assume that means you have invited scientists known or suspected to be racially inclined or sympathetic to the NAR,” said Bob. “I know WPB analysts profile just about everybody who is anybody in any liberal democracy. But won’t the Zionist régimes in Ottawa and Washington and London see right through that?”

  “No, that’s not exactly what we’re doing,” said Jason. “The eight top archaeologists and anthropologists whom we have selected aren’t necessarily sympathetic to the NAR. As nearly as we can determine through careful study and analysis, these people are all either genuinely apolitical, or even slightly lefty-lib. But they all have reputations not only as top-flight people in their fields, whose opinions will be listened to, but also as objective and rational people who will either refuse as a matter of conscience to go along with their own government’s plans to smear the Lost Creek find, or else who will make a public stink about the pressure to do so.”

  “This assumes that there are any Americans or Canadians or Europeans who have a conscience left,” said Campbell sourly. “I was only Out There for a few months, and I sure don’t remember meeting anyone with any principles. And that was twenty years ago. God knows what those people are like these days.”

  “Actually, things have improved somewhat in the area of public morals in the U.S.,” said Tom. “When the United States government lost the last war and became too weak and underfinanced to maintain the Surveillance State, and the iron heel was lifted off people’s necks to a large degree, a lot of the remaining white Americans cleaned up their act, including a lot of voluntary re-segregation, which has been allowed to happen because the Washington régime simply isn’t strong enough to force people to mix any more. Once there was nobody forcing them to wallow in filth at metaphorical gunpoint, a lot of white Americans decided they didn’t really like doing so. For example, American media entertainment is actually a lot cleaner these days than it was back before the war. White Americans, who despite everything still have more disposable income to buy advertisers’ products than non-whites, simply stopped paying for perversion and degeneracy, and if they wanted to keep raking in the shekels the entertainment industry had to respond. Nowadays entire movies and television series are being made again where everybody keeps their clothes on. Remove the demand, the supply goes away.”

  “Of course, the Circus boys culling most of the Jews out of the media and entertainment industry didn’t hurt,” said Jason with a chuckle. “I get what you’re saying, though, Tom. Sickness and degeneracy is not a natural human condition, and you have to force it on white people. After almost a century of solid defeats, the United States is no longer in a position to force people to be bad, and left to themselves most white people will choose to live their lives in some approximation of a decency they seem to recognize instinctively. Come on, I’ll show you around the site.”

  * * *

  The Lost Creek dig consisted of three main sections or sub-sites. First, there was the longhouse and the clump of buildings around it, which Ally speculated had once been surrounded by a wooden palisade. “The walls of the Level Three structures are made from fairly goodsized local granite and limestone blocks on a foundation of gravel, carefully shaped with adzes or something similar so they could be fitted together without mortar,” explained Ally. “There’s some similarity to the Anasazi ruins, actually. The construction is really skillful, and we’re not totally sure how they did it with only stone tools. The roofs were probably thatch, but we don’t know for sure since only a few feet of wall still remain and we have no idea what they used as roof joists or rafters. Again I have to emphasize that this is the most recent stuff on the site, and it’s six thousand years old. These people, whoever they were, were among the first in history to erect permanent free-standing structures for shelter. Maybe the first. Even the oldest Mesopotamian ziggurats are only five thousand years old.”

  “I didn’t know Mesopotamians smoked ziggurats,” quipped Tom Horakova.

  Ally glared. “Nobody likes a smart-ass secret policeman!”

  “Sorry, honey, this is all just a little overwhelming for me,” he apologized with a chuckle. “I’ve spent the past week listening to audio surveillance of a Pentecostal preacher seducing one of his choir singers, which no one gives a damn about, so long as he’s not the one slipping those stupid little Christian Zionist comic books into nooks and crannies all over Missoula.”

  “You’re really worried about little subversive printed things?” asked Ally.

  “That was how the Party got started,” he reminded her.

  On the extreme northern edge of the area were six tumulus burial chambers made of fitted shale and limestone believed to have been brought to the location from the far-off banks of the Missouri River, probably dragged on sledges or travois. They had been built in the unusual manner known as the D-barrow, with one façade straight and carefully lined. It was believed that the original builders had covered the stone burial chambers with earth. All six had been very carefully exposed and opened by the archaeologists; it was in these that the Cro-Magnon remains and artifacts had been discovered, with two of the tumuli containing two skeletons each, male and female. Finally, about a hundred yards to the east of the old stockade line was the large mound that sonar indicated contained several hollowed-out chambers; Ally speculated that when uncovered there might be found beneath the earth something similar to the weird Newgrange monument in Ireland—except that core samples which had brought up minute ancient pieces of wood and bone indicated this mound was almost twelve thousand years old. “If it contains more Cro-Magnon artifacts and remains, that will be stupendous,” said Ally. “For one thing, most anthropologists believe they died out about twenty thousand years ago, and now we’re finding that not only were they here in North America, but they appear to have survived longer here than they did in Europe. However, if the mound contains actual Caucasian homo sapiens remains, that will be downright earth-shaking. It will mean that white people were in fact contemporary with Cro-Magnon man, at least in this one small bit of time and place, and not the result of interbreeding between C-M and Neanderthal. That’s the official theory, you know, that modern men of all races are CM-Neanderthal hybrids, a mixture of two species, both of whom managed to evolve in Africa over hundreds of thousands of years without leaving any trace of the fact there. Then about 20,000 years ago, or maybe 30,000, they’re really vague on that, both species suddenly marched all around through Asia Minor, ended up in Europe, and then started interbreeding like good little race-mixers.”

  Tom laughed. “I’m no anthropologist, but even I can tell that’s absurd!”

  “Of course it’s absurd!” giggled Allura. “But it’s the best that politically correct science can come up with to maintain this article of liberal faith that mankind evolved in Africa
, while explaining away the fact that there are no ancient homo sapiens remains to be found in Africa. They found a few very primitive hominids, but no evidence of any kind as to how those hominids became modern human beings. All the evidence of early human biological and cultural development is to be found in Europe and the Fertile Crescent of the Middle East, and that appears to have migrated from the east, Siberia and central Asia, and not Africa. But for any academic or anthropologist or historian in any of the democracies to say so risks professional ruin, physical assault by Jewish and left-wing students and thugs, and possible criminal prosecution for hatecrime. Every couple of years some university professor who thinks his tenure will protect him gets a Galileo complex and he questions or refutes some politically correct tenet regarding the biological or historical origin of man, and he ends up in the academic equivalent of the bottom of the river with his feet in concrete.”

  “But if none of that politically correct drivel is true, then where did we come from?” asked Bob Campbell.

  “That’s what we may be about to find out here,” said Jason soberly. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the site.”

  They found Dr. Arne Wingard and several of his top students carefully removing soil sections from an enlarged trench in the ground about thirty feet past the north wall of the longhouse, using an instrument that looked like a motorized posthole digger. He was a thin man in his late fifties, a Norwegian who had been educated in Britain before he fled to the Homeland one step ahead of a hatecrime charge for denying that there had been negro Vikings. He spoke English with a British accent. “Good afternoon, Mr. Chancellor,” he said from down in the hole.

  “What are you digging up there, Arne?” asked Jason Stockdale.

  “Shit!” said Wingard happily.

  “I beg your pardon?” said Campbell.

  “There is a lady present, doctor,” said Tom Horakova, frowning.

  “No, you don’t understand,” said Ally, laughing. “That really is what he’s digging up. This is a Neolithic latrine containing coprolite, which is petrified excremental matter.”

  “Coprolite is archaeological gold, gentlemen,” said Wingard, climbing out of the hole and taking off his gloves to shake hands with the visitors. “Especially the human material. From it we can find out a very great deal about the people who left such deposits. What they ate and how much, what parasites and in some cases what diseases they were suffering from, and sometimes we can even get DNA samples that identify each, uh, depositor, which will give us a good idea of how many people were living here generation by generation if the pit was used for a long time, as this one apparently was. Plus the artifacts, of course. In those days, as in this, people sometimes tended to drop things accidentally or throw items they wanted to get rid of down the khazi. So far we’ve found a bone knife handle that judging from the hafting groove in it once contained a Solutrean flint blade, several bone needles, broken bits and pieces of wood that appear to have been part of tools, and our prize find of last week, a small stone hammer head that appeared to be grooved on both sides so it could be fitted with a handle. Plus of course we found animal bones, hundreds of them, the remnants of many a meal. We’ve found wildfowl, buffalo, deer, elk, rabbit and squirrel. We also know Lost Creek Man ate a lot of fish, which indicates that in those days either Lost Creek must have been a lot wider and deeper, or else they mounted fishing expeditions to nearby lakes, or both. That means they must have had some method of catching large numbers of them, which implies nets and teamwork, maybe even rafts or boats. We also found a piece of slate which was grooved for hafting, which I will swear on a stack of whatever volume you care to name is a plowshare. It’s too large to be anything else. I can’t prove it yet, but I am convinced that these people were practicing primitive agriculture.”

  “Oh, pardon me, I should have introduced our two guests,” said Stockdale. “This is Colonel Robert Campbell of the CID and Captain Tom Horakova from BOSS. They’re going to be making sure our coming visit from the outside world goes smoothly.”

  “You mean you’re going to make sure that none of our colleagues from the so-called democracies is a spy and a saboteur sent here to contaminate and discredit this site,” replied Wingard with a scowl. “You’ve got your work cut out for you, then, gentlemen.”

  “You don’t trust your fellow scholars?” asked Campbell.

  “Good God, of course not! No farther than I could throw them!” exclaimed Wingard. “As far as intrigue and internal politics goes, the average university in Europe or America could give lessons to the Borgias! None of the Zionist governments will need to look far to find willing tools to do their dirty work for them. Academia is just like everything else under democracy, gentlemen. It’s all about money. Research grants, fellowships, tenured professorships, prizes, government and private sector contracts and consulting fees, an endless torrent of boodle flowing down the corridors of academe for those who are willing to sell their integrity and their souls for a bit of it and sing whatever tune their political masters call. There are men and women in the academic and scientific world, gentlemen, many of them, who have made good livings their entire lives and acquired respect and renown by maintaining and advocating theories and bodies of alleged truth and knowledge which are in fact pure politically correct poppycock. There were thousands of so-called scientists who ate millions of steak dinners for decades off the so-called scientific fact that the earth was growing warmer due to human activity consequent to capitalism, and the only way to quote-unquote ‘save the planet’ was to institute one-world socialist government. What gets me is that they were able to keep it up for almost a generation after mean global temperatures began to decline again in 1998.

  “Lost Creek doesn’t just represent a political or intellectual embarrassment to the world scientific and academic establishment, gentlemen,” Wingard concluded, shaking his head. “Lost Creek threatens their very bread and butter. They will do anything to destroy this site and every jot of evidence of the past we have discovered here, and frankly I doubt it will even require foreign intelligence services to get them to do it. You need to watch every one of our distinguished visitors like hawks. I know I will be.”

  “Unless he happens to be Scorpius himself,” Horakova whispered so low that Bob Campbell could barely hear him.

  XXIII

  SCORPION IN THE WOODPILE

  (32 years, seven months after Longview)

  Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive.

  —Sir Walter Scott

  Later on that night, back in Missoula, Colonel Bob Campbell sat in his office in the Civil Guard headquarters with BOSS Captain Tom Horakova. “When do they arrive, again?” asked Bob.

  “A week from tomorrow,” replied Horakova. “They’ll be flying in by private charter jet from Minneapolis.”

  “Not taking the scenic route and driving overland, are they?” asked Bob.

  “No,” replied Tom. “That route might be a little too scenic for their taste. I suspect that their superiors don’t want them to notice the fact that the old barbed wire entanglements and the crumbling Bremer walls and the pre-war minefields were all on the American side of the McCurtain. I wish they would drive. Their flying is going to be a nuisance. It means we’re going to have to vet the plane crew to make sure they don’t try this nonsense of sneaking in a mulatto or a gook, and then once they’re in the country we’ll have to put tails on them as well, plus all ten members of the Eminent Persons delegation. Jack Smith Airport is going to have to stock up on petroleum-based U.S. aviation fuel to gas up that lumbering dinosaur of a private jet they’ll be arriving in. This is the biggest operation I’ve ever been involved in, and BOSS doesn’t have the manpower in Montana. Each of these subjects has to have at least two full-time minders to work in shifts. We’re having to bring in more agents from Spokane and Calgary. I wish to hell BOSS was this big huge secret police octopus the Office of Northwest Recovery says we are. In real life, we’re hard put to
keep track of a group of less than a dozen people.”

  “Maybe we can inveigle them into some kind of conference in Seattle or Vancouver or Portland, and then they can get a leisurely ride in a nice comfortable airship,” suggested Campbell. “The only way to fly. Or at least we need to get hold of a levi-bus and run them up to Spokane on some pretext, so we can show off the world’s only gravitational transportation system.”

  “This isn’t a propaganda tour,” warned Tom. “We don’t want to give them the idea that we’re showing them Potemkin villages. We know they’re in Washington, D.C. now, and they’re being given some kind of briefing or orientation by the government and the Office of Northwest Recovery. God only knows what they’re expecting to find when they get here.”

  “Nigger heads on spikes over the Missoula city gates,” suggested Bob. “Seriously, if you’re short-handed, CID does have undercover detectives, you know. There’s some crime in the Republic, and us coppers haven’t totally forgotten how to do these things.”

  “Thanks, Bob. I’ll probably take you up on that.”

  “So how do we ride herd on them once they’re on the ground in the Republic?” asked Campbell.

  “Very carefully,” said the younger man. “The ONR is probably telling them that BOSS will be spying on them all the time, which is going to make it difficult for us to spy on them at all. Normally we would step back and just let the experience of a free White country work its magic, as it almost always does with visitors of any kind, but in this present situation we have to watch them, in case one of them tries to contact Scorpius. But for that very reason, we don’t want them feeling paranoid.”

  “Are we even sure any of them will try to contact Scorpius?” asked Bob.

  “No, but it makes sense to assume that the ONR would slip a ringer into the delegation with at least a watching brief to observe, and almost certainly to act if there is any way he or she can see to damage or discredit the Lost Creek site,” replied Tom. “Some kind of tampering with the artifacts or remains or contamination of the site itself which would indicate fraud on our part, or invalidate our conclusions, or else simply make it impossible to correctly examine or analyze whatever is found in the mound or beneath the longhouse. Or something to embarrass the Republic politically and call the results into question.”