Tuscany

by Matthew Thayer

  Roaring battle calls, blaring on our flutes, we rushed forward as a group to retrieve our spears. The display of force drained away what was left of the pack’s will to fight.

  “Good shooting, Sal,” Jones said as the dogs slinked off into the distance. “Hey, Kaikane, Corporal Bolzano’s been practicing.”

  TRANSMISSION:

  Duarte: “Did you make wine and bread which you shared with the natives?”

  Bolzano: “Yes. Not very good wine. My efforts caused many headaches.”

  Duarte: “How about olive oil?”

  Bolzano: “A little.”

  Duarte: “A little? What does that mean?”

  Bolzano: “It means I made a little bit of oil. It too, was very poor quality. Bitter. Our tongues burned.”

  Duarte: “Do you recall Rule No. 14 in The Team handbook?”

  Bolzano: “I imagine it is the rule forbidding contact with native man which ‘may disrupt the natural course of history.’ A very high ideal indeed.”

  Duarte: “What prompted you to break such an important rule?”

  Bolzano: “Perhaps you would like to go first. It seems you three have made quite an impact yourselves. It is a bit like the kettle calling the pot ‘black,’ isn’t it?”

  Jones: “Corporal Bolzano, just answer her questions. Get this over with.”

  Bolzano: “I wish I could tell you I acted solely on the orders of my superior officer, Sergeant Lorenzo Martinelli. Although the sergeant did order me to ferment wine and gather the ingredients to bake bread, those orders came only after I hinted I was capable of both tasks.”

  Duarte: “Why did you do such a thing?”

  Bolzano: “Because I hoped a glass or two of wine might mellow Lorenzo. He was one bad day, one angry heartbeat away from shooting me through the head. Or, more likely, turning me over to the Tattoo bitches to torture to death. Imagine the stress of living as a slave of the Tattoos, every moment at the mercy of a certifiable psychopath.

  “My early efforts to halt his abuses earned me beatings. Andre initially supported Lorenzo. That gave the sergeant power to stomp out my protests. Once Andre recognized the severity of the problem, it was too late. Lorenzo had the pistols, we had been stripped of our jumpsuits, and he was rapidly becoming a God-like figure among the local population. I think we both expected Lorenzo to falter. The man was no genius. It transpired, however, that he was a methodical planner. Lorenzo was able to anticipate problems and make allowances for them long before they happened.

  “After three days wrapped in a rhino skin, ear peas blaring in my skull as a sadistic group of old whores used burning sticks to thump my feet, I guess I recognized the need to become part of Lorenzo’s solution, not remain part of his problem. And I needed to do it in a big way.

  “It is odd; once you take the first step, the rest becomes easier. I knew what we were doing was wrong. Lorenzo strayed so far over the line, it was laughable. In my case, I did not know whether to laugh or cry until Lorenzo told me which he wanted me to do. Sadly, I became quite eager to please my master.”

  Duarte: “Did you teach the natives how to pray in Latin?”

  Bolzano: “Yes, but with a small caveat.”

  Duarte: “Explain.”

  Bolzano: “The Bible Lorenzo retrieved from the Master Sergeant’s boat was written in English. He was intent on a true Roman Catholic Service. The problem was, Lorenzo’s Latin was atrocious.”

  Duarte: “A problem which you helped him overcome.”

  Bolzano: “In a way. I switched many of the words around. Lorenzo quite often prayed for the health of my dear mother’s Siamese cat. He also unknowingly extolled the virtues of same-sex marriage, abortion and racial equality.”

  Duarte: “That was quite a risk.”

  Bolzano: “The thrill helped pass the time. It was like running a good con. Made me feel alive. And like I was fighting back, no matter how petty my efforts may seem now. And, for what it is worth, I never taught my natives, or any others, the process of making alcohol.”

  From the log of Paul Kaikane

  Recreation Specialist

  We finally got down to brass tacks once the dead hyenas were tossed into the river, the game birds were browning over the fire, and we all had a wash in the brook. It took quite a bit of scrubbing to rid ourselves of the smell of those nasty dogs. The things must have been rolling in some bad shit.

  I could tell Maria was anxious to get things underway. She insisted we all wear our helmets to record the conversation for the history books. Visors were to remain up. It also meant we didn’t need to sit in a tight bunch, or stop when one of us had to drift into the shadows to take a leak.

  Martins streaked through the late afternoon sky, gobbling bugs, as Maria, Sal and I took places by the fire. Jones said it was easier on his back to stand. I think the battle with the hyenas may have wrenched his shoulder. He hasn’t complained.

  I pretty much kept my mouth shut and listened. Maria asked me to watch the corporal’s eyes to see if I could tell whether he was lying or telling the truth.

  TRANSMISSION:

  Duarte: “Switching gears, was Master Sergeant Leonard part of the plot?”

  Bolzano: “Most certainly. Though he was a Protestant, the man commanded Martinelli’s respect. In the days following the jump, they met often with Captain Miller. Those three and several other high-ranking officers. I knew something was afoot.”

  Duarte: “You knew something was going on?”

  Bolzano: “Are you familiar with the old saying, ‘it takes a thief to catch a thief?’ Do Americans say that one? While you were running around the ship being busy, I was sitting on deck observing. You would not be alone in calling it laziness. I did, however, notice how Miller and his cronies tended to speak in whispers, and glance over shoulders to make sure they were not being eavesdropped. Little things.”

  Duarte: “Why didn’t you report your suspicions?”

  Bolzano: “Who would I report to? Martinelli? Leonard? They were my direct superiors. And what would I say, ‘The captain whispers and looks guilty about something. In truth, rumors were rampant. Some said there were problems with the mission. Some said the boat was falling apart. Imagine that. No, I was just being nosy.”

  Duarte: “Did you ever see anyone from the science community take part in these clandestine meetings?”

  Bolzano: “Not that I remember. I had the feeling it was strictly a military affair.”

  Duarte: “What about Chief Science Officer Gomez?”

  Bolzano: “What about him?”

  Duarte: “Did you witness anything untoward about Gomez? Did he ever say anything you found improper?”

  Bolzano: “The man was so far above my station, I counted myself lucky to get a nod or occasional “hi-ya” as he strolled about the ship. He was forever surrounded by division heads. I must say, it was humorous to watch you subordinates fall all over yourselves vying for his attention. Like little ducklings waddling after their mother.”

  Duarte: “You’re right. He was accompanied by staff most of the time, wasn’t he?”

  Bolzano: “What does Gomez have to do with Martinelli?”

  Jones: “Moments before Martinelli detonated his suit, he made some damning accusations against Dr. Gomez. Did he ever say anything to you abut Gomez? Anything at all?”

  Bolzano: “Sounds like that is how the spider lured you into his web. It bears all the hallmarks of a Lorenzo attack. What was his claim against Gomez?”

  Duarte: “He said The Team had been infiltrated by many people. That Gomez sold jump positions singularly and in packages of three. He said Gomez was the one who killed the top officers.”

  Bolzano: “Did he say the good doctor’s compartment was timed to open early?”

  Duarte: “Yes, he did.”

  Bolzano: “Did he claim Gomez gently pinched their noses and held their mouths closed to kill them one by one as they awoke?”

  Duarte: “It’s true, then.”

  Bolzano
: “With one exception. When Lorenzo conveyed this story to Andre and me, he was the one doing the pinching. Martinelli was an assassin, of that I have no doubt. He said his mission was to eliminate the top officers. It was the primary reason he was sent back.”

  Duarte: “Did you believe him?”

  Bolzano: “Yes I did. I remember being surprised by his candor. It was the first time Lorenzo shared anything about his past.”

  Duarte: “What about The Team? He said it was littered with diamond miners and gold diggers. Is that true?”

  Bolzano: “To a point, I think it was. Lorenzo never confirmed this, but from what I was able to piece together, there was to be a mutiny. The pistols and computers, jumpsuits and kayaks, all the new-generation gear was somehow part of the plan. I think the failing equipment may have rushed the timetable.

  “In terms of admission being sold in packages of three, that could apply to Lorenzo, Andre and myself. Three problem children, all contracted by the same man.

  “Of course, you remember the assassination of the Italian Prime Minister a year or two before the jump. His air car was blown from the sky along with his wife and several others. Lorenzo claimed he orchestrated the murder while doing a job for Cardinal Sellaro. The Minister was not even the primary target. He said.

  “He maintained the church paid his way back in time as a way to protect him from being implicated in the crime. Think about it, Lorenzo would have made an excellent mutineer. He was ruthless. Perhaps they assumed Andre and I would fall into line once the revolt was finished. They sent one active agent and two sleepers. That is merely conjecture on my part. As I have stated, I was instructed to find a few artifacts and bury them. Nothing more.”

  From the log of Paul Kaikane

  Recreation Specialist

  Somewhere about midway through the hearing, Bolzano stood and announced it was time to eat.

  “This interrogation has given me an appetite,” he said. “Shall we sample these odd birds before they overcook?”

  Maria searched through the holds of the kayaks to find four turtle shell bowls and several larger serving platters made of wood. My stomach growled as she and Sal used flint knives to scoop the stuffing from the body cavities and then section the birds into quarters. I knew just by smell, there would be no leftovers for breakfast. Sal sprinkled sea salt across the tops of the bowls as he handed them out.

  Without any natives around, I suppose we could have tried to make forks or chop sticks. After all this time, we’re used to eating with our hands and knives. Maria calls it “dining native.”

  We kept the conversation off business throughout the meal. Mostly, we swapped stories about food, the best and worst meals we’d eaten since the jump.

  TRANSMISSION:

  Duarte: “Are you a Christian?”

  Bolzano: “Are you asking if I believe in God?”

  Duarte: “However you want to put it.”

  Bolzano: “I am a member of The Team. Even if my spot on the jump roster was secured through trickery, I quickly grew proud to be part of such an important mission. I took my public oath very seriously. Secretly, I promised myself that I would not only do my best, I would continue striving to quell my penchant to lie, cheat and steal.

  “Do I believe in God? Jesus Christ? There were times while Lorenzo was on his roll, I began to question my disbeliefs. Everybody believes in something. Ask those natives across the river where they go after they die. You will get 10 different answers, even from members of the same clan. Some think they will float up to join the stars, while others say they will rise through the ground as plants. When an animal eats them, they will become part of that animal, and so on.

  “I am not a religious person, and I make a very poor Christian. There is something inside me that wonders if there is a God, a pulse of energy, or supreme force, whatever it may be, which holds this universe together. Wouldn’t it be grand? In the past year, I have given ‘He’ or ‘She’ ample opportunity to pop ’round and say hello, welcome me to the club. To no avail. Indifference is not an endearing trait to the Bolzano ego.

  “I pledge you this, I promise to follow Team guidelines which forbid the dissemination of modern beliefs and religious doctrine to the natives. I have always felt peoples’ spirituality, their ideologies, are best kept to themselves, anyway.”

  Duarte: “What about opera?”

  Bolzano: “I make no promises on that score. I imagine there will be times when I will be inspired to sing an aria or two.”

  Duarte: “Will you re-take The Team Oath?”

  Bolzano: “Will you?”

  Duarte: “Yes, of course, but this is not about me.”

  Bolzano: “It most certainly is. It is about all four of us. Let me ask you, Dottoressa Duarte, are you ready to head south without looking back? Skulk over, grab the rest of our belongings and bolt? No goodbyes, none of that. And if we do give our native friends the slip, we will need to move fast, because you know they will come looking. They will go upstream to where the river narrows and float a tree across. If the old-timer is half the man his nephew brags he is, it won’t take him too long to track us down.”

  Kaikane: “I think I see where you’re headed with this, Sal. Why not get to the point?”

  Bolzano: “The point is, we cannot take The Team Oath and continue to co-mingle with our natives, or for that matter, any other natives. It is verboten, strictly prohibited. So, Doctor, as one of the people who helped plan this mission, please explain what we are supposed to do? Do we hide in the bushes every time we see a Cro-Magnon or Neanderthal? Or perhaps we are to slay every poor soul who lays eyes upon us.”

  Jones: “Helluva question Sal. Been wondering same thing. What you got to say, Doc?”

  Duarte: “I agree, our situation is unique. It does not match any of the scenarios considered by Team leaders.”

  Jones: “Thought you guys had it all doped out, right down to the last detail.”

  Bolzano: “Observe now, she will tell us it was the military’s fault.”

  Kaikane: “Easy, guys. Let her talk.”

  Duarte: “Plain and simple, the crew was sacrificed. The mission should not have been launched, not with an older-generation trimaran. I think we all can agree on that. Congress was going to vote for a total ban on time travel. Though there wasn’t enough solid data to hang your hat on, evidence was building to support material degeneration theories. Thirty-two thousand years is a long trip.

  “Once committed to launch, there was no turning back. You are right, Corporal Bolzano, I did sit at those tables listening to ‘experts’ make their reports. As I look back, I realize how fanciful their imaginings were. City boys and girls with no real idea of the environment we would encounter. They speculated and hypothesized, played games as primitive men, focused far too much on the spiritual and artistic side of Cro-Magnon, while not giving appropriate credit to their inquisitive, clan-building natures.”

  Bolzano: “Did they really believe we could blend into this world and not gravitate toward fellow humans?”

  Duarte: “Those were our orders. No fraternizing.”

  Jones: “We were supposed to live in our jumpsuits? Sneak around?”

  Duarte: “That was the idea. There would be places not yet populated by man where we could unwind. North America is most likely uninhabited, as are many islands. Sadly, our plans relied on modern technology. Trips ashore were expected to be short, scientific forays. We would creep around invisibly, then return to the boat, compile our reports and gather in the staff room to pat each other on the back. It was to be a grand time!”

  Jones: “More complicated a mission gets, more likely things are gonna fuck up. Question. What’s so bad ‘bout Christianity?”

  Duarte: “Those natives didn’t worship Christ! They worshipped a sappy mountaineer who did bad magic tricks! I asked Tomon. As far as he understood, Martinelli’s religion was all about fighting and fucking, hunting and feasting. Jesus Christ would be ashamed of what the man did in his
name.”

  Bolzano: “I agree. Christianity plays a pivotal role in the history of the world we came from. But all things in their proper time. Did Martinelli cause enough changes in the current social structure or human behavior to dramatically affect the course of the future? Who knows? Will societies progress faster or slower? Will mankind evolve at a different pace?”

  Duarte: “With the message Martinelli was preaching, I pity the world if it does. We may become extinct!”

  Kaikane: “I still don’t understand the whole extinction business. If man becomes extinct, how are we here? We came from the future.”

  Duarte: “Salvatore, do you want to answer that one or shall I?”

  Bolzano: “Be my guest.”

  Duarte: “I believe there are different threads of time, different paths of the future. We are here, there is no changing it. But what happens from now on, well that is up to time to decide. By coming back, we run the risk of altering history in such a way that subsequent threads are greatly disrupted.”

  Kaikane: “I’ve heard all that stuff before, don’t know if I buy it.”

  Bolzano: “Imagine Lorenzo had been allowed to sow his seeds of war and greed and slavery for 20 or 30 years. He was anxious to introduce the wheel, for goodness’ sake.”

  Jones: “Sergeant Martinelli was on his way out when you guys arrived. Natives were no more than a day or two from revolt. Junior Tattoo warriors barely had it better off than the slaves. We just lit the match. If you two care to remember, I told you both a long time ago, we were far over the line.”

  Duarte: “You told us we had signed Gray Beard’s death warrant.”

  Jones: “I did. He’s been lucky so far. Imagine he expected to be taking a lot more people home. Laid up the meat in the salt cave. Had it all planned out.”

  Duarte: “You are right, we have crossed a mile over the line. From a clinical standpoint, we have badly contaminated Leonglauix. He knows about our computers, our suits and that we are very different than himself. I signed a stack of papers promising to do no such thing. Circumstances seemed to push those oaths right out the window.”