AFTER SOME TOMORROW
BY MACK REYNOLDS
Alan's plan might save the
race from extinction—but he
was the clan's only husband
and had to be protected from
his own folly....
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, June 1956.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Before the first shots rang out, Alan had been sitting with some twentyyoung people of the Wolf clan in a grove of aspen approximately halfway between the fields and the citadel on the hill-top. He had beenteaching them myth-legend and, as usual, the girls were bored andunbelieving, the boys open mouthed.
He realized, even as he spoke, that the telling had changed evensince his own youth. As a boy of ten, before it was definitely knownwhether or not he was a sterilie, he had sat at the feet of the Turtleclan's husband as open mouthed as those who sat at his feet now. Butthe telling was different. Now, had he spoken openly of when men boreweapons and women lived at home with the children, he would havecrossed the boundaries of decency. It hadn't been so in his own youth,but then, when he was a boy, they had been one generation nearer tothe old days, which weren't so far back after all.
Helen complained, "This is so silly, Alan. Why don't you tell ussomething about ... well, about hunting, or true fighting?"
He looked at her. Could this be a daughter of his? Tall for herfourteen years and straight, clear of eye, aggressive and brooking ofno nonsense. The old books told of the femininity of women, but....
The shots went bang, bang, bang, from below, faint in the half mileor more of distance. And then bang, bang again and several boomsfrom the new muzzle loading muskets.
Helen was on her feet first, her eyes flashing. Instantly she was incommand. "Alan," she snapped. "Quick, to the citadel. All of you boys,hurry! To the citadel!"
She whirled to her older classmates. "Ruth, Margo, Jenny, Paula. Getstones, sharp stones. You younger girls go with Alan. See if you canhelp at the citadel. We'll come last. Hurry Alan."
Alan was already off, herding the boys before him. Possibly all of themwere sterilies and so wouldn't count. But you never knew.
As they climbed the hill, he looked back over his shoulder. Down in thefields he could see the workers scattering for their weapons and forcover. One stumbled and was down. In the distance he couldn't make outwhether she had fallen accidentally or been wounded. Further beyond thefields he could see the smoke from a half dozen or more places wherethe shots had originated. It didn't seem to be an attack in force.
Not far up the hill from the field workers, on a overhanging boulder ina lookout position, he could make out Vivian, the scout chief. She sat,seemingly in unconcerned ease, one elbow supported on a knee as hertelescoped rifle went crack, crack, crack. If he knew Vivian therewas more than one casualty among the raiders.
Who could it be this time? Deer from the south, Coyote or Horse fromthe east? Possibly Eagles, Crows or Dogs from Denver way. The clancouldn't stand much more of this pressure. It was the third raid in sixmonths. They couldn't stand it and put in a crop, nor could the drainon the arsenal be maintained. He had heard that the Turtle clan, nearColorado Springs, the clan of his birth, had got to the point wherethey were using bows and arrows even for defense. If so, it wouldn't belong