Jonnie washed his face and got dressed and told the colonel he was a bully and the colonel confessed he was far worse than that.

It was this way: his original plan to have Americans man this base had been passed by the old Council-before it went funny. They'd recruited some South Americans and sent them over. But there was a tribe up in the Arctic descended from political prisoners in Siberia and they spent most of their time starving to death, so they had come down en masse, dogs and all, and they were here– the Siberians were the ones out there in white bearskins. And then there was a little tribe they'd found in the Caucasus that had survived and they were here. So it really was getting pretty manned up with Russians. But they had an American here. Yes! You want to see? He's right outside.

The American was ushered in and he was pulling a young girl behind him. He stood there grinning. It was a boy from Jonnie's own village! Tom Smiley Townsen. They were very glad to see each other. Tom Smiley was a big lad, almost as big as Jonnie and a year younger. He said he had graduated from machine school and heard they didn't have enough operators over here for this job and had caught a ride, and he'd been working here for over a month running mine sweepers and teaching others and fixing things that broke down.

This was his girl, Margarita. "Margarita, permite me presentarte al Gran Senior Jonnie. "

The girl was very pretty, very shy, and overawed. Jonnie bowed. He had seen Sir Robert do that. And she bowed.

Tom Smiley said they were going to get married in a few weeks. And Jonnie said he hoped they had lots of children. And Margarita blushed when Tom Smiley translated it but nodded her head with enthusiasm.

For the first time, Jonnie learned the village had moved. Tom Smiley had been trained so he could keep the passes open in winter using a blade scraper, and they wouldn't have the usual winter starvation, but now that they were moved, there was less snow. It was to the town Jonnie had recommended, but Brown Limper had sent troops to force them to go to it. They had even had to leave their belongings behind, but he thought by now the other boys– two more were machine operators now and two were pilots– would have collected those up for them.

The colonel pushed them out and gave Jonnie a sip of the “finest vodka ever brewed,” and it almost took the top off Jonnie's head. What a cure for flight fatigue! Must have been out of bears' teeth!

The colonel said that was absolutely correct, how did he guess the formula, and took him outside again.

Most of the people were going about their business getting ready for a big party and dance but they smiled and smiled as they passed Jonnie.

Two German pilots from the African base were sitting in front of a fire drinking something. The third pilot was upstairs flying patrol, the rumble of the motors faint due to his extreme altitude. Jonnie told them in Psychlo they should relax and enjoy themselves, and they just looked at him respectfully. Jonnie knew they had completely different orders: two on alert for scramble, sleeping in their planes with the radio on, one ship always in the air. Jonnie realized all this good cheer and festivity in the air was dulling his awareness of the facts of today– they were at war with powerful forces.

The colonel led him to a small knoll and with an expansive hand showed him how great this country was. There was wild cotton, enough to clothe thousands, there was wild wheat and wild oats and herds of sheep and cattle enough to feed hundreds of thousands. Those ruins way over there had been a city full of factories, and although the machines didn't work with existing motors, Tom Smiley thought he could get some looms running– which made Jonnie wonder whether they didn't have another Angus on their hands in Tom Smiley.

Did Jonnie know there was a tomb over to the southeast, way over, where the emperor of the world was buried? A Mongol named Timur I Leng. Nearly two thousand years ago he had ruled the whole world. It was a fact. He would have to take Jonnie over there and show him the tomb. It said so right on it.

Jonnie had heard quite enough about Hitlers and Napoleons and such. He had often wondered whether– if such vermin had not been so intent on personally ruling the world– man might have had the cultural advancement to repel the Psychlo invasion. He had heard some theory that it required war to invent technology and he thought that must be a Psychlo maxim. But he didn't tell Colonel Ivan that. He admired the truly beautiful view.

The base? The colonel responded to Jonnie's question. It was up there, not very far away from here. He'd give him a whole tour tomorrow.

As they started down, a big, jolly-looking Scot and two aides met them. It was Sir Andrew MacNulty, the head of the federation and Chief of all the Coordinators. He had gotten the word Jonnie was here and had just flown in. He had a pleasing manner and cheery laugh, very admired by his extensive and busy corps of Coordinators. Jonnie was very glad to see him for the business he was here for involved the movement of tribes. He complimented Sir Andrew of the magnificent work the Coordinators were doing and Sir Andrew thanked him for saving the lives of that pair in Africa. Jonnie knew he could get along with this man. Good.

About sunset the party was ready, and the big square box constellation in the sky was well down before it finished. Dances and music and more dances. Spanish dances. The Dance of the Bear Hunt from Siberia. Wild leaping dances from the Caucasus.

Fire-light and laughter. Good food and drink. Since it seemed everyone had to clink a cup with Jonnie and since he had never done much drinking, he had quite a head the next morning when the colonel, all bustling efficiency, broke him out.

After a bit of breakfast they trooped off in a mob to see the ancient defense base. The colonel said that they had all worked on it and they were all going along to make sure he liked it and to straighten anything up he didn't like. They were no longer in their party clothes. They were here now to go back to work as needed.

The ancient base was entered through a tunnel that was masked by overhangs. Built to resist nuclear bombing and to serve as a command post, it was deep. Due to occasional earthquakes in this area, it had been built very strong. It lacked the polish and finish of the American base but it was even bigger.

They had lighted it with Psychlo mine lamps. They had buried the vast numbers of dead with honors. They had swept everything up with Psychlo mine sweepers flown in from Grozny. Tom Smiley had gotten the water lines working. The colonel said he really hadn't intended for him and his men to help so much for this should be an American base but they had the experience and so they had pitched in.

The amounts of stores were vast. Uniforms were not as well packaged and sealed as the American ones had been but much of the stores were useful. Possibly the quality was even better. Look at these portable “flame throwers.” They still worked!

A hundred thousand assault rifles called AK 47 had been found totally preserved and they had retailored the ammunition with and without radiation. They presented Jonnie with one that they had chrome-molecular-plated down at Grozny and five thousand rounds of guaranteed no-misfire ammunition in clips.

The Russian premier had apparently never gotten here but his command post had been ready. Jonnie thought that must be a picture of him, that big one on the wall, but he was told no, that was a picture of a former tsar named Lenin. Possibly in the time of Timur I Leng, they were not sure, but it was evidently a very respected picture so they had left it.

Level after level, passage after passage, they trooped through the vast base, stopping now and then to show Jonnie things, smiling at his praise, very happy that he was pleased with it.