The Space Barbarians

by Mack Reynolds

  The face laughed. “That’s quite a reception. I’m Nadine Pond. Cornet DeRudder sent me over. If you’ll activate that button to the right of the door, I’ll come in.”

  “Activate?”

  “Push it.”

  “Oh.” John pushed the button, and the door opened.

  By Caledonian standards she was a tiny thing, not more than five and a half feet tall. John’s first reaction was to wonder if she was an adult, but then, obviously she was. She was attired in a neat, trim uniform, the skirts of which were shockingly short by Aberdeen standards, and John kept his eyes studiously from her knees.

  She entered briskly and touched another button, and the door closed behind her.

  She looked up at him and shook her head. “I’ll never pet used to the size of you people. What in the world do you eat?”

  He looked at her blankly.

  The question was evidently rhetorical. She led the way into the living room and, without ado, unslung the handbaglike burden she had been carrying over her shoulder and lowered it to the couch before sitting herself down.

  Nadine Pond said briskly, “Comet DeRudder is being held up longer than he had expected, being interrogated on his, uh, adventures with the Loch Confederation bandits.”

  “Bandits!” John blurted in indignation.

  She cocked her head to one side. “What else would you call them? I had gathered the opinion that you defected and came in on your own.”

  John lowered himself into the one large chair that was actually suited for his build. His face was strained, as though rejecting his own thoughts. He said slowly, “It is true that my fellow phyletics stripped me of my kilts of clannhood, but… but they are not bandits.”

  “Why not?” she said briskly. “They refuse to come in and abide by the treaties made with the friendlies.”

  “The friendlies… ?”

  She shrugged impatiently. “A term we use for the natives who have cooperated with us, either through taking soma or desiring to take advantage of the new cities and their occupational and educational facilities.”

  John frowned at her. He said, “Not all of what you say is understandable. This is my first day in… in New Sidon. Who are you?”

  Her voice became brisk again. “I am Assignment Clerk Nadine Pond. I’ve been given the job of doing the preliminary processing of you, John.”

  He took her in at greater length now. She was pretty by his tastes. Alert, clean of features, a bit overearnest of expression perhaps, and dark of complexion as Caledonian lapses went—but pretty. She was obviously on the efficient and businesslike side as well, a little too much so in dealing with menfolk than was seemly.

  John was irritated by her. He said grudgingly, “To how many worlds do you of Sidon and United Interplanetary Mining come and confound and kill the clannsmen and then, in contempt, call them natives and bandits and friendlies?”

  She looked at him contemplatively. “Are you sure you’ve come to us with a cooperative mind, John Hawk? Perhaps it would be best if you took soma.”

  “No!” he said hurriedly.

  She shrugged. “Those who take it never regret doing so… I am told.”

  “But you yourself have not.”

  She made an offhand gesture. “That’s true. However, to get back to your question, I am not from Sidon. I work for United Interplanetary Mining, but I originally came from the satellite system of Jupiter, a Sol planet. However, the answer is many. In various parts of the galaxy, United Interplanetary Mining and similar organizations develop many unsettled, partially settled, or even sometimes well populated worlds. Caledonia is unique in some respects but not in that.”

  John’s eyes narrowed slightly as he leaned forward, and the words came out grudgingly, as though he was trying to bite them back and couldn’t. “And how do you explain to yourself cooperating in landing upon this world of us Caledonians and turning us into… bandits and friendlies?”

  Nadine Pond turned and touched a control on her piece of equipment. “I think, perhaps, I should be recording this,” she mused. “I am not sure that it is going to be easy to place you, John Hawk. However…”

  She took a deep breath. “Here is how I explain it to myself. I am an anthropologist, John. Do you know what that means?”

  “No.”

  “I am a student of man’s institutions and follow a school that believes in the evolution of society. In spreading through the galaxy, man comes up with various institutions, some of them, as a result of accident—shipwreck or whatever—throwbacks to periods that we have supposedly progressed beyond. Working for United Interplanetary Mining gives me a chance to study them.” She hesitated. “Do you understand what I am saying?”

  “Only some of it.”

  “Well, your Caledonia is an example. When your Inverness Ark crashed, centuries ago, you Caledonians were thrown back into a primitive society. Slowly, you have been working your way back. But slowly.”

  John said, “We of Caledonia were happy before the arrival of you from Beyond.”

  She cocked her head. “Were you? All of you?”

  “Yes!”

  “Even the clannless ones? Even the widows and orphans of those who died in your endless raids upon each other?” He took a deep breath and stared at her in silence. She went on. “Happiness is an elastic word. The savage or barbarian, disease racked, inadequately fed, continually on the verge of want of one type or another, ground down by rituals and taboos, may not understand that the coming of progress will eventually result in a longer, healthier, happier life. How can he understand? He’s never witnessed it.”

  “We were happy. We wanted none of your changes, your so-called progress.”

  She shook her head at him sadly. “They would have come whether or not we did. We are just speeding things up. For instance, John Hawk, what was your rank before you were expelled by your clannsmen?”

  His head went up. “I was a Supreme Raid Cacique of the Loch Confederation.”

  “Ah? I have studied Caledonian institutions. I have never heard of the office before.” John scowled. “I was the first.”

  She made an amused moue. “Ah, then you can adapt? Supreme raid cacique. The rex, in embryo.”

  “Rex?”

  The democratically elected war chief of the ancient Romans. Later, the office began to evolve into carrying the prerogatives of a king. And tell me this, John—do you have a priesthood that is freed of the necessity to contribute to the clann economy?”

  He wasn’t sure he completely understood, but he said, “We have bedels and Keepers of the Faith. They are too busy with the Holy Books and maintaining the observance of the bann to spend time in the fields or with the herds.”

  “Ummm,” she nodded. “Class divided society already begins to rear its head; a leisure class. And you have clannless ones, I understand, who work for you as servants but cannot participate in clann government and decisions.”

  “But they are clannless ones!” he retorted.

  “Aren’t they, though? And tell me, John, in this ultra-free, ultrahappy society of yours—do those clann members who possess a larger number of horses and cattle or other private property have a greater voice in the councils, are they more quickly listened to, more often elected to clann office? Do they sometimes control the vote of less prosperous clannsmen?”

  He simply scowled at her.

  Nadine Pond chuckled. “John, your Caledonian culture was at a crossroads even before the Golden Hind first landed and discovered you. Probably within your lifetime, regardless of our arrival, you would have seen institutions crumble and new ones arise. Possibly you would have tried to fight it and would have gone down, or possibly you’re enough of a slick to have been one who profited, but willy-nilly, the changes would have taken place.”

  “I understand only a little of what you say, Nadine of the Ponds.”

  “Nadine Pond,” she corrected. “John, I understand that you Caledonians recall nothing of the history of your people, the P
icts and Scots of northern Britain.”

  “I have read very little of Earth history, in the books we have captured from you of Beyond.”

  “Suffice its to say that when they were first discovered they were…”—she twisted her mouth in amusement—“to use some idiom of yesteryear, reckless mountain boys that made the Hatfields and McCoys look like a bunch of flower children. Their favorite entertainment for an idle weekend was raiding their neighbors, stealing the cows and horses and anything else portable, murdering anyone who got in the way and burning their houses—sometimes with the inhabitants amusingly barricaded within. This was generally considered just good, clean sport, not to be taken really seriously.”

  John nodded. “They were honorable raiders.”

  “Weren’t they! Neither the Romans, Anglo-Saxons nor Normans invaded the Highlands; instead, they went in for building walls to keep those horrible barbarians out. Even the Vikings didn’t raid Scotland, as they did Ireland, England and France. When they tried, with an army of forty longboats, they were received so joyously by the local Highlanders that they decided against a return engagement. Of the forty longboats, after the battle, only two took off down the loch, and only one of those got home.

  “They were not slinks, these ancestors of mine!” John said, a touch of pride in his voice.

  “That they weren’t. However, time marched on, and primitive clan institutions began to be affected by the arising English civilization to the south. And there’s always some native talent around that’s sharp enough to see that it’s not merely the way the wind is blowing, but the inevitable direction of cultural evolution. Fighting a change in the weather is one thing; trying to fight a change in the climate is something else entirely.

  “Over a period of generations, such clans as the Campbells gradually got the idea of law and order instead of war and raiding. The MacGregors were another. Rob Roy, the Scottish national hero, something like Robin Hood, belonged to the MacGregor clan, the one that was too thoroughly given to stealing and murdering for even the Scots to stand, so that the Scots’ Privy Council passed a law making it illegal to be a MacGregor. He was, in full, Rob Roy Campbell MacGregor.

  “At any rate, such prominents among the Scots learned to adapt to changing institutions and wound up owning Scotland. When feudal ways took over from primitive clan ones, the slicks became the feudalistic lords.”

  John said in puzzlement, “Why do you tell me all this?”

  “Because, John, the changes are coming to Caledonia, as once they came to early Scotland. There are those among you clannsmen who will see that the current cannot be bucked. Perhaps they will be looked upon as traitors by the rest, but it is they who will survive and lead the people.”

  “Lead them into slavery,” he growled. She looked at him for a long, thoughtful moment Finally, “Perhaps what immediately might seem slavery to a clannsman, John Hawk, but in actuality a step forward in man’s development. In nature, a species that does not develop usually dies. And in society a culture that fails to progress eventually dies, as witness both the Egyptian and the Mayans.”

  “Who?” he scowled.

  “Never mind.” Nadine Pond came to her feet and frowned down at him thoughtfully. She said at last, “John Hawk, there’s something about you I am not sure of. You are possibly one of the poorest recruits that has ever come over to us. Or possibly, the best. I am going to check back with Cornet DeRudder before going further with you.”

  He stood as well and attempted to cover. “You must realize,” he said, “that only this morning I was John of the Hawks, Supreme Raid Cacique of the Loch Confederation.”

  “So I am told. You have not had the time, even if it was in your nature, to learn to dissimilate. For the present, goodbye, John Hawk.”

  He saw her to the door, not actually knowingly gallant, as she thought, but to be sure that the door was closed behind her after she left. He stood there looking at it for long moments when she was gone.

  But then he turned abruptly and made his way to the bedroom Sam DeRudder had assigned him. He went to the bed and took up the field worker’s kilts he had discarded earlier. He carried them into the dining-kitchenette, where he located a sharp steak knife. He carefully inserted this into the strong hem at the bottom of the kilts and cut the threads.

  A plastic card dropped into his hand, and he looked at it carefully. Only part was understandable to him. It read, ID CREDIT CABD M-16-A-15.643, CORNET SAMUEL DERUDDER, PRIORITY M-3. Otherwise, there were obvious code letters, a portrait of DeRudder and a thumbprint, as well as several punched holes.

  He went back into the living room and sat himself again at the communicator. He thought about it for a long moment, then finally reached out and dialed.

  A robotlike voice said, “Security limitations. Priority of M-3. If you wish this tape, please present your ID credit card.”

  John put the credit card in the slot and waited, unconsciously holding his breath.

  The screen lit up, and he stared at it. Finally, he reached out and took up paper and stylo and began to sketch clumsily. It took him a full ten minutes.

  He dialed again, and again the card was required. He took further notes and further sketches. At long last, he settled back into the chair and thought it all through with careful deliberation. But then, he didn’t have much time. He had no way of knowing when DeRudder might return.

  He flicked the library bank switch off and activated the videophone switch. He thought for another deliberate moment, to be sure of memory, then carefully dialed. This, now, was the crucial point. The credit card was still in the slot.

  The screen lit up.

  John said, “This is John, Sachem of the Hawks. Quickly, let me speak with Don of the Clarks.”

  Within moments, Don of the Clarks was there, his face expressing jubilation.

  “John! We did not expect you so soon!”

  John spoke quickly, urgently. “We were picked up by one of their vehicles of the sky. I am in the longhouse of Samuel of the DeRudders. He does not know I have his card of identity that all those of Beyond must carry. Nor does he know that you are in possession of a captured communicator through which they speak long distances. Now, here is the immediate information. I have been able to locate the city plans. Here is a sketch I have made of the sewers that lead into the river.”

  John held the sketch he had made earlier to the screen.

  Don of the Clarks twisted his head and barked instructions.

  Agonizingly long moments later, John took that sketch away and substituted the second he had made.

  While it was being copied, he hurried through various questions with Don of the Clarks.

  At last they were through, and Don’s face again fully occupied the screen.

  John, Supreme Raid Cacique of the Loch Confederation, said, “We must not waste time. At any moment, I may make some great mistake and reveal all. Send the messengers to the Highland Confederation and to the Confederation of the Ayr. The time of action is soon to be upon us.”

  Chapter Six

  John of the Hawks spent the next several days in a round the clock accumulation of knowledge of the ways of the newcomers from Beyond. Sometimes he was accompanied by Sam DeRudder, but in surprisingly short order, he was able to find his own way about New Sidon, and he preferred to be alone. It was obvious that DeRudder had something in mind in regard to John beyond what had originally been the case, but thus far he hadn’t brought up the question. And as far as John was concerned, so much the better. As it was now, he had the time and opportunity to check out a hundred items that would endlessly profit his long term plans.

  There was much that surprised as well as interested him.

  He found, for instance, a considerably larger number of Caledonians among the citizens than he had expected, nor were all of these women, children or elderly or defeated elements. He could tell himself, in contempt, that the combat age men he witnessed attending schools, working on the construction of buildings or ot
herwise participating in the economy of the city were slinks who should have been up in the hills fighting the invaders. However, inwardly he realized that it wasn’t just that. There was something in the air that would appeal to the type of clannsman with an inquisitive turn of mind. There was so much new and fascinating—tools, weapons, ways of doing things.

  He did what there was to be done in the way of checking out the city’s defenses and was pleased to find what he had suspected. The military was actually a secondary thing as far as United Interplanetary Mines and the Sidonians were concerned. There was possibly one soldier among the invaders from Beyond for each four civilians. Immediate complete conquest of the planet wasn’t so important as getting on with its exploitation. The soldiers were a necessary evil, not an end.

  And the city defenses indicated that the invaders had made the most basic of all military mistakes—they underestimated the enemy. The walls were strong enough against raiders, equipped with carbine, claidheammor and skean; the gun emplacements at each of the four corners of the city walls would have decimated horse mounted clannsmen. However, the defense authorities obviously never expected to be attacked by forces armed with more sophisticated weapons.

  He didn’t spend all his time wandering the streets of the city and gawking at constructions and equipment previously unknown to him. In fact, the greater part of his time was spent in DeRudder’s apartments, leaning over the communicator screen.

  That first evening, Sam DeRudder had taught him still another use of the device. In the library banks were not only the tapes of books, but an endless variety of films depicting life as it was to be found on a thousand and more worlds. And where fact left off, fiction took over, so that he was even able to run and rerun shows pertaining to the ancient Picts and Scots of whom Nadine Pond had told him.

  Above all, he was fascinated by the Scotland of the present. His ancestoral home was so far and beyond anything he could ever have imagined but a week ago that it was like a fairyland. Surprisingly enough, particularly in the smaller communities, he could still see racial characteristics that pertained to his own people. Perhaps these far cousins of his were not quite the same size as the clannsmen of Caledonia, but the light complexions, the craggy faces, the eyes were all there. He couldn’t quite analyze the strange tightening of his heartstrings.