Toth

by James C. Glass

  “What the hell, boy, do it, but I don’t want any further damage to Toth’s body.”

  They all watched passively as Osen stepped up to point-blank range and they held their ears as he emptied the thirty-round magazine into Jezrul’s pulpy remains.

  He was still standing there, Michael’s arm around his shoulders, when two marines returned with the body bags.

  * * * * * * *

  The final count for marines, villagers, and islanders was twelve dead and several wounded. Four of the brave men who had sailed into Toth’s laser fire had been found floating at sea, but Michael considered it fortunate no other islanders or villagers had been killed, and their four wounded would likely have complete recoveries. Of Toth’s defenders, only three had survived, one of them a counselor. Bandaged, they huddled together in the loading bay as bodies were brought out, labeled and bagged. They feared for their lives, despite Nimri’s quiet assurances that blame would not be placed on them, that their knowledge of the island would be vital in the societal reconstruction to come. One of them, a gun crew commander named Rustin Nolting had already helped them to power down the island, shutting off the barrier and putting the great fusion reactor beneath them on standby.

  Osen sat by the bag containing the remains of Floyd Mootry, and Michael left him to his grief, walked outside and found Krisha sitting on a rock, embracing Kari. They were talking softly. Krisha’s fingers caressed Kari’s hair. Both had been crying and Michael left them alone in their private moment. He found Davos in his boat. Nimri was with him, and looked up as Michael hopped from the platform to the bow to join them.

  “So, Michael, you’ve survived,” said Davos, smiling. “I know at least one person who will be happy about that.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Oh yes. I stayed close to the boat most of the time. The only danger out here was all the falling rock, but it was enough.”

  “How about you, Counselor? I see they got you bandaged up.”

  Nimri’s left arm was in a sling. “It missed the bone, but I’m told there might be numbness for a long time. I feel fortunate it isn’t worse.”

  Michael sat down beside them. “You’re taking this well, Counselor, about Toth, I mean. But I don’t see how it could have been avoided. We’re bringing his remains out pretty soon and returning them to our camp for study, but it won’t be for long. I presume you’ll want to bury him.”

  “Yes,” said Nimri, “but not before the people see him and pay their last respects.”

  “You want them to see him? Do you think that’s wise?”

  “It will help them to understand,” said Nimri. “Many thought of him as something other than a man, an immortal who could not be replaced, a God, if you will. With his death, our society is forever changed, and those changes must be according to the will of the people.”

  “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

  “You will do nothing to interfere with the process? My father has just told me about your intention to remain here, the relation between you—and my sister. Will you live according to the wishes of the people—help us to rebuild?”

  “Yes, if I can be accepted here. Right now I’m concerned about that.”

  Nimri nodded his head. “We can only wait and see.”

  “Private Osen will be staying with me. Colonel Mootry was his father, and for political reasons he can’t return with our starship. There will be two of us left behind.”

  “I can think of advantages to that. Our isolation is ended, and others will come now. We’ll need you here to prepare for that, our connection to the other worlds. Yes, there are reasons for you remaining here, and I think the people will agree.”

  Nimri looked over Michael’s shoulder then, eyes widening in surprise. “Ah. He wasn’t killed after all, but he doesn’t look well.”

  Michael turned; saw two marines escorting a tall, robed man between them, holding him up as he shuffled unsteadily across the rock.

  It was Diego Segur.

  His face was a blank, eyes unfocused, and there was dried blood on his chin. The marines brought him to the boat and Nimri jumped up to help the big man step into it, sitting him down carefully opposite Michael.

  “We found him alone in a room, staring at a wall,” said a marine. “He hasn’t shown any reaction to us, hasn’t said a word. The med-techs think he’s been tortured. A piece of his tongue is gone, and they figure he bit it off while they were doing whatever they did to him. All locked up in his mind, now, catatonic.”

  “Diego? First Counselor? It’s Nimri. Can you hear me?”

  The man stared ahead, unmoving.

  “No marks on him, other than the tongue,” said the marine. “Physically he seems to be okay. There was a half-eaten plate of food in his room.”

  “Thank you,” said Nimri. “We will take care of him now. We’ll take care of you, Diego.” Nimri put an arm around the man’s shoulders, patted him. “So many dead and injured and now this. There’s much hurt to undo. So much.”

  “What in hell did they do to him?” said Michael.

  “Toth’s Pain, and he is an old man, locked into himself to escape it. We’ll bring him back to us, won’t we? You’ll come back to us, Diego, if you want to.” He patted the man’s shoulder again.

  The Gull-boat had pulled up to the boat platform and all bodies, including Mootry’s, were loaded into it. It was early evening before they finally pulled away from the island. The Gull raced ahead, the four remaining sailboats and speedboat following slowly. Here and there they passed the scorched boards of boats now at the bottom of the sea and Michael was reminded of the men and their families who’d made the ultimate sacrifice to spearhead the attack. Suddenly it all sickened him: the pain, death, and family losses of loved ones. War. This was the end of it for him. He would never willingly participate in it again. From this moment on, he was not a marine.

  But the most poignant moment of the day came for him after they had reached the big island and taken skiffs to shore. He climbed the steps to the settlement and found everyone crammed in the amphitheatre, eating a hot meal. Osen was nowhere to be seen, but Krisha and Kari were there, pressed close together, and Davos joined them. Michael followed Nimri and Diego to the amphitheatre and found a space in a top row. Women served them a stew of Lonia and potatoes, and cups filled with warm Fiero. Nimri fed Diego with a glass spoon, and the man ate well, eyes blinking when the first sip of Fiero hit his stomach. Then the people around them were suddenly silent. Michael looked up and Derald was standing there, shaking, his eyes glistening with tears. He pressed past Michael, knelt at his son’s feet and looked straight into the man’s eyes. “Diego,” he said, “my son, you’re still alive. You’re still alive.” He put his hands on Diego’s shoulders and squeezed hard.

  Diego’s mouth opened. Inside it his ruined tongue moved, thrusting out and in. It was as if a film had suddenly been lifted from his eyes. He made a strangled cry and reached out both hands to touch Derald’s face.

  “Faaah,” he said.

  * * * * * * *

  There was no sleep for any of them that night. What started out as a simple dinner turned into a series of toasts, then a wake for those who had died. A boisterous party lasted until dawn when a year’s supply of Fiero finally ran dry. Michael nursed two glasses of the strong drink until midnight, feeling a light buzz despite his caution, and then retired to the Agbayekhai house where Derald had taken his son for a night’s rest. He found the old man at the lovely glass table there in the light of a lantern, scribbling furiously on bark. Derald looked up and smiled.

  “How’s Diego doing?”

  “He sleeps. I can do nothing for his tongue, and his speech will be slurred, but otherwise I think he will do well. I never thought I’d see him again.”

  “Will you come with us to the mainland?”

  “Not just yet. I’m working on some ideas here and I want to get them down while they’re fresh. The reactor on Toth’s island can give us unlimited power, y
ou know. I see an underwater cable running to it if I can get the materials. Iron will not do; its electrical resistance is too high.”

  “Copper or silver,” said Michael, “or you might convert the power to microwaves and beam it both here and to the mainland. The technology could be brought here within a few years.”

  Derald’s eyes were bright with excitement. “So many possibilities, so many things to do.”

  “Yes, but I have a simpler matter to discuss and a request to make. While Kari was a prisoner on the island Jezrul implanted a biochip in her. You told me once that you had a simple procedure for deactivating it without major surgery, and I’d like you to do it for her. She’s had the implant for only a couple of days.”

  “Of course,” said Derald. “It will take only a few minutes, but you understand the chip must remain where it is. It will simply become inert.”

  “When can you do it?”

  “In the morning, before you leave. Bring her here.”

  “I appreciate it, Derald. I’ll go and tell her.” Michael turned to leave.

  Derald held up his hand. “One moment, Michael. I hear rumors that when your ship is gone you will remain here. Is that true?”

  “Yes, if the people will allow it.”

  “And why would they not allow it?”

  “The fighting. The dying. Some will continue to blame my people and I for what have happened, including Toth’s death. He had his supporters right up to the end.”

  “On the mainland, perhaps, certainly not here. If you cannot live comfortably on the mainland there will always be a place for you here, Michael, I can assure you of that.”

  Michael felt gladness in his heart. “Thank you for saying that, Derald. I really want to stay, to help rebuild your society, and that’s going to be several lifetimes of work. Mainlanders—islanders—you’re really two different cultures now.”

  “Our histories and philosophies are different, yes, but we’re all one people. You’ll see some tearful reunions when several of our older people return to the mainland with you tomorrow. You will see we’re only family members returning after an absence of forty years. Ah, a question: what will you do with the aircraft we mounted on my pontoon boat for the attack?”

  “Leave it here, of course. It’s useless as a flyer.”

  “Wonderful. You know, it ran nicely on alcohol, very efficiently. It will be only a twenty-minute trip to the mainland with it, and I’d like to begin some trade right away. I think we will come together as one people faster than you imagine, Michael, and you should be part of that happening.”

  * * * * * * *

  The Gull left just after dawn, Osen having spent the night in it with the body of his father. The few remaining sailboats and the speedboat were loaded by noon, the delay caused by slow, painful awakenings of marines and islanders who’d participated in the previous night’s revelry. Michael took Kari to meet Derald at the Agbayekhai house, then walked a very anxious Krisha down to the beach and sat down beside her in the sand.

  “She’ll be fine,” he said. “It’ll only take a few minutes, and we need to talk about something.”

  His voice tone was serious, and she looked at him expectantly. “Sir?”

  Michael took a deep breath, and let it out. “I’m not going back with you, Krisha.”

  “You’re staying on the island, Major? You want me to—”

  “No, I’m staying on this planet, not going back to Belsus. I’m past due for mustering out and I’m preparing my separation papers as soon as we get back to the mainland. With Colonel Mootry dead, you’re number two on Belsus and I want to appoint you commander. There’ll be a field promotion to Major, and if you say yes, I can have the papers cut today.”

  Krisha was stunned, and swallowed hard. “Can you live here, Major? Will they let you do it?”

  “It seems so. Osen’s staying here too. I won’t tell you why, but if you check the computer on Belsus I’m pretty sure you’ll find out he doesn’t exist. He’s not a marine, Krisha, that’s all I’ll say. Osen stays with me.

  “Maybe you want some time to think. You’re the natural choice, third in rank and career military. I’ve seen your record; it’s flawless, and I’ve watched you turn boys into hardened veterans in one week. They’ll follow you anywhere, and so will the rest of the crew. What do you say?”

  A faint smile was on her face. “Yes sir. I accept. It’s an unexpected honor, Major. I’m surprised.”

  “It’s done, then.” Michael started to get up, but then Krisha startled him with a sudden insight of her own.

  “Begging your pardon, sir, but if you’re going to be staying here, I presume you’ll be helping these people to rebuild their society and acting as some kind of liaison when the trading ships begin to arrive. You know they’re right behind us, sir, it’s only one jump to the closest freighter lane.”

  “Probably. I’ll do what I can.”

  “Well, wouldn’t it make sense to formalize it, to keep you here as a representative of the Federation? All we’d have to do is put you on active reserve status.”

  “I’m seventy-five now, Krish.”

  Now Krisha truly smiled. “You know deep-sleep isn’t counted, sir. You can have ten more years of service, if you want it, maybe twenty if Arkon decides to give you a fancy title, and that could take twenty years.”

  Michael paused, scratched his chin. “Let me think about it and get back to you. We’ve got some fences to mend on the mainland before you fly away.”

  “I understand, sir. Can I get back to Kari, now?”

  “Sure, and tell her I said that to be on the safe side she should stay away from the radio shack for awhile.”

  Krisha actually laughed, a smile spreading across her face as she got up. “I’ll do that, sir.” She walked away from him, still chuckling.

  Four hours later he was standing at the bow of the speedboat, the village now visible and beyond it the rolling green hills of the mainland. He still thought about what Krisha had suggested, and remembered what Floyd had told him. For an old combat marine, Mike, you’ve turned into a pretty good diplomat. So maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea: staying on reserve status, a formal representative of the Federation. Who could know what was coming, the problems they would have when the money people who operated the freighter lines discovered what was here? An Arkon presence could bring some security in dealing with them.

  His thoughts snapped back to what was real and not conjecture, what was happening now. The beach was visible, and the sailboats that had started out ahead of them had just reached the surf. A crowd was waiting for them, and Michael’s stomach churned with uncertainty about the reception. Nimri came up to stand at his side, the staff of his former office conspicuously absent from his hand. “It’s good to be home again,” he said.

  Home? Could this place be home to him after all that had happened? Word must already have spread about the returning dead. What about the families who had lost loved ones and providers? What could he say to them to justify their loss? How could he ask to live out his life among them?

  Michael’s heart was pounding in anticipation as they hit the surf and coasted in with it. People were wading ashore and there were embraces, men and their families, old people peering uncertainly, then crying out and rushing forward at the sight of relatives cut off from them for over forty years. They stood in the surf, hugging, crying as Michael’s boat slowed to a stop. Nimri jumped in and began wading to shore and a crowd was moving towards him.

  It was at that instant he saw Gini. She’d been further down the beach and now she was running towards him at water’s edge. He jumped in, waded to intercept her as she thrashed toward him in knee-deep water. She let out a little cry as she launched herself into his arms, hugging, kissing him over and over again, yet not a word passed between them until they were on the beach. People looked at them curiously as they came out of the water, hand-in-hand, and Michael caught Kari grinning at him. Davos had found his grandson, Uhli, and came up
to them, the little boy in his arms.

  “Here is Michael,” said Davos.

  The little boy looked solemnly at Michael, then down to where his hand joined Gini’s.

  And then his mouth curved into a shy, uncertain smile.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Michael stood on the plateau, and the Gull was a black silhouette against the first light on the eastern horizon. Osen had declined to come with him, choosing instead to watch the departure from a point on the ridge overlooking the village and the sea. It was the place where they had buried his father three weeks before. A monument was to be erected over the grave, a slab of stone commemorating the man who lay there, and the event that had caused his death.

  The viewing of Toth, alias Edward Tothman, had been a sobering occasion for the villagers, and showed them the real creature who had ruled their lives for centuries from his liquid bath at sea. The broken body had been partially hidden from view beneath the folds of a counselor’s robe, the huge head visible and undamaged. Grumbles of disgust and muffled cries of horror had been heard during the viewing. There were still those who would remember him with quiet reverence, those who saw him as a man who’d prolonged his life too far to see to the needs of his people, a man victimized by his own counselors, notably Jezrul. They had buried Jezrul at sea, shrouded in white, along with the rest of their dead and those from the stars who had given their lives to begin a new order.

  Mutual grief had brought them closer together: villagers, islanders and marines alike. The work to repair the damage to the obelisk had moved even further to form a bond between them. The night before, when the Gull had returned to begin its final loading, a crowd of people had come to the plateau with gifts for their departing ‘cousins’: fish, vegetables, sprays of flowers, an assortment of glass objects, including a wonderful window brought from the island. They’d presented their gifts to Krisha in their quiet, unemotional manner, and then gone away. Krisha was clearly moved, and Kari had wept without shame.

  But now the moment was rapidly approaching when Michael’s world would vanish into the sky, leaving him to an unknown future. There had been no outcries against he and Osen remaining behind, and a few people had even given him words of welcome, but still he worried. In the end he’d said yes to Krisha’s suggestion and so he was now Lieutenant Colonel Michael Queal, a member of Victoria’s Marine Reserve assigned as Trade Liaison Officer to the planet Emerson, also known as Tothwelt. The move had been applauded by the islanders’ council, which saw a future in trading with other worlds, while the villagers saw him as possible protection against unscrupulous visitors who might seek to exploit them in the future.