THE TIES THAT BIND
By Walter Miller, Jr.
Illustrated by Kelly Freas
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of ScienceFiction May 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence thatthe U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Edward, Edward?
Why does your brand sae drop wi' blude,
And why sae sad gang ye, O?"
"O I hae kill'd my hawk sae gude,
Mither, mither;
O I hae kill'd my hawk sae gude,
And I had nae mair but he, O."
The Horde of sleek ships arose in the west at twilight—gleaming sliversthat reflected the dying sun as they lanced across the darkling heavens.A majestic fleet of squadrons in double-vees, groups in staggeredechelon, they crossed the sky like gleaming geese, and the children ofEarth came out of their whispering gardens to gape at the splendor thatmarched above them.
There was fear, for no vessel out of space had crossed the skies ofEarth for countless generations, and the children of the planet hadforgotten. The only memories that lingered were in the memnoscripts, andin the unconscious kulturverlaengerung, of the people. Because of thelatter half-memory, the people knew, without knowing why, that theslivers of light in the sky were ships, but there was not even a word inthe language to name them.
The myriad voices of the planet, they cried, or whispered, or chatteredin awed voices under the elms....
The piping whine of a senile hag: "The ancient gods! The day of thejudging! Repent, repent...."
The panting gasp of a frightened fat man: "The alien! We're lost, we'relost! We've got to run for the hills!"
The voice of the child: "See the pretty birdlights? See? See?"
And a voice of wisdom in the councils of the clans: "The sons ofmen—they've come home from the Star Exodus. Our brothers."
The slivers of light, wave upon wave, crept into the eclipse shadow asthe twilight deepened and the stars stung through the blackening shellof sky. When the moon rose, the people watched again as the silhouetteof a black double-vee of darts slipped across the lunar disk.
Beneath the ground, in response to the return of the ships, ancientmechanisms whirred to life, and the tech guilds hurried to tend them. OnEarth, there was a suspenseful night, pregnant with the dissimilar twinsof hope and fear, laden with awe, hushed with the expectancy of twentythousand years. The stargoers—they had come home.
"Kulturverlaengerung!" grunted the tense young man in the toga of anAnalyst. He stood at one end of the desk, slightly flushed, staring downat the haughty wing leader who watched him icily from a seat at theother end. He said it again, too distinctly, as if the word were a clubto hurl at the wingsman. "Kulturverlaengerung, th