Free A Long Time Until Now by Michael Z. Williamson Page A

breechcloths. They didn’t have much body hair.
    And they were all tall. The women were six foot, the men taller. The twelve-year-olds running around were as tall as she. Or they might be younger than twelve.
    They had a lot of kids, and they nursed well into walking age. The women’s breasts sagged, and had long, chewed nipples. Most women had stretch marks and hollows or sags. She’d avoided that with plenty of exercise and a considerable amount of technology.
    They did have all or most of their teeth, however, and those were generally quite straight. They had large jaws and plenty of room for the teeth. It occurred to her that mutations to the contrary would likely not do well, until agriculture and modern technology came along. In that regard, modern people had devolved.
    They were friendly. They were too friendly. They approached her, hands out to touch, and the smell was revolting. They didn’t bathe enough, couldn’t wash off the animal refuse, and it all turned into a disgusting stench that rolled past her. And those dreadlocks were sickening.
    She stepped back and against Spencer, and held out a hand.
    That gesture seemed to work. They drew back.
    Friendly was good, she reflected, but it was possible to be too friendly. They obviously didn’t fight much. They had no sense of a comfort zone.
    Trinidad, the Navy intel guy, said, “Okay, those two are in charge. Everyone else looks toward them.”
    Spencer said, “We need more words.”
    Oglesby said, “I’ll work on it. So far, I have water, hut, ground, I think I have man and woman, spear, baby and fire.” He was scribbling in a notebook as he went.
    “Good start.”
    The two leaders came over and waved, an obvious “come on” gesture. She looked at Spencer, who nodded, and they followed, as did the others. Another of the Paleos, a woman stepped in to lead them to a hut.
    They were being shown to one of the larger lodges. Ten troops could sleep in a GP small if they had to. This was almost twice that, so there was plenty of room for people and gear.
    It was marginally more comfortable than it had first appeared. The floor was dirt, but packed. There were raised beds along the sides, of turfs and moss and tree cuttings. There were three hearths. There were several baskets and other containers.
    Their host laid hands on the beds and seemed to describe their comfort. She pointed at the baskets. She pointed at firewood and charcoal left near the hearths, and the smoke holes above. Then she waved them back outside.
    They gathered just out front, and Gina was really glad for a buddy. Spencer seemed like a decent guy, very smart, and able to help the lieutenant keep on track. With him and with her rifle, she felt safe enough. But it was close to sunset and would be dark soon. She really wanted company.
    Spencer said, “It’s a small enough camp. Ortiz, can you and Trinidad stay with grounded gear . . . here?” he pointed at a spot between the central fire and the large hut.
    “Hooah.”
    “Thank you,” she said, and gratefully shrugged out of the straps. She pulled her camera bag back onto a shoulder, and popped her armor open at the hips and neck. That helped. Even a light ruck was half her body weight.

    Elliott was glad of the hospitality. It wasn’t that necessary, but it was a good thing to be on friendly terms with potential neighbors. He’d already decided they wouldn’t be staying in this village for long.
    The chief and his assistants were joined by two more women. He took the first by the hand, and brought her toward Elliott. There was a stifled giggle behind him. Yes, it was hilarious to see them try to gift him with a concubine or wife, but there were complications.
    “Sergeant Spencer, I need help fast.” He noticed there was a bit of a crowd gathered at a distance. There were long shadows, too. It was evening.
    “Yes, sir, stand by. Follow my lead.”
    Spencer stood in front of him, waved a disapproving finger, and pointed at the