Toth
Page 29
In only four weeks after Toth’s death an infrastructure was beginning to develop. Derald had arrived with his council, met formally with Nimri and a group of villagers hand-picked by him to discuss future governance. Michael had felt it significant he’d been invited to attend. He answered questions about future problems they might face in dealing with other worlds, even the dangers they should be prepared for. It was agreed that mainlanders and islanders would maintain their separate councils by election, but meet together regularly in unified assembly. The technology on Toth’s island would be kept intact, or repaired where possible, though the huge lasers there seemed unrepairable, at least in the immediate future. Existing weapons, in considerable supply, were to be stored under the supervision of the Assembly and used only to defend against off-world attack. Staffs of all former counselors were to be dismantled and the components used for peaceful purposes. So much accomplishment in a single four-hour meeting had given Michael much hope and optimism for the new society.
Michael smiled as he thought about Derald. The old man was a strategic thinker and the wonderful gifts he’d brought over for Krisha were a part of that thinking, some little things to show the merchants who wandered among the stars in search of profit. His list of trade items had included copper wire and paints and some machinery, including electrical generators and motors, but for the most part, somewhat surprising Michael, what he mostly desired was knowledge: books, tapes, discs, entire data banks on bio-computer, any form available on any subject, even including the history and cultures of the Federation. Did he really think he could absorb such vast knowledge during his remaining years? No, he’d answered, but he would teach others how to learn and apply that knowledge before he was gone. And they would be selective.
So now it was the morning of final departure and he was standing alone fifty meters from the Gull as the last few marines trotted up the ramp into its maw and disappeared inside. A moment later Krisha and Kari came back down the ramp and over to him to say their goodbyes.
“Good morning, Commander.”
“Colonel. We’re ready to go, now. Anything we’ve missed?”
“Nothing I can see. You have a nice clear day for flying. Have a good trip.”
“We will, sir, and thank you.” Krisha put out her hand and shook his firmly. “You might be setting a precedent, sir. Now Nik is talking about coming back here to retire. By the time we get to Brown’s Planet he’ll be eligible for it.”
“He could do a lot worse,” said Michael, “and if he hurries I might even be around to greet him.”
“You have a lot of years left, Mike,” said Kari. “You going to start a new family here?”
“Maybe. I didn’t do very well with the last one, so we’ll see.”
“Sorry we couldn’t leave more, sir,” said Krisha. “Osen has the radio, but Derald wanted the front-loader and the prefab shack real bad, and I had to turn him down. There’s only so much I can explain away when headquarters asks about what happened here. We put a full load of munitions for the Gull back in the obelisk as you requested, and I can say that stuff got shot up in the fighting. Any messages to pass along?”
“Nope. Just try to get some merchant ships back here as soon as possible. These people have plans. I probably won’t see you again, so have a good life—both of you.”
Kari jumped up and kissed his cheek. “Don’t forget us, Mike.”
“How could I forget either one of you? Good luck in your career, Krish; I hope you go all the way.”
“Thank you, sir. We’d better go.”
“Yeah,” said Michael.
He pumped Krisha’s hand once again, and then they turned away from him, walked to the Gull and disappeared inside. The ramp retracted and the maw closed. Turbines whined and the lifters sprayed a cloud of fine dust as the Gull lifted slowly, hovered, then moved off over the cliff and out to sea, climbing more steeply. He saw the big thruster ignite before he heard the roar. The Gull disappeared rapidly, a speck trailing a line of mist, and he was standing there alone on the plateau in terrible silence, a deep hollow within him.
They were gone. His world was gone, and he was left—to what? He looked up at the ridge, but didn’t see Osen there. What was he feeling right now? Michael walked to the edge of the cliff, looked out to sea. The sun without a name had risen and he felt its warmth, smelled salt, his hair fluttering in the usual morning breeze. He stood there for a moment, and then walked across the plateau and up the trail to the village past trees and hanging moss and a profusion of flowers smelling sweetly. He heard a chirp and a rustling, looked up to see a redheaded bird sitting on a small tree branch, a twig in its mouth. The bird eyed him suspiciously, and then fluttered out of sight high in the tree. New life on the mainland, he thought. A final gift from Toth.
The obelisk loomed before him, the former sanctuary of a man-God that, at least according to Nimri, would now be a school, yet in a secret room within the hill were stored the weapons of war, and weapons that Michael sincerely hoped would rot in their place. But he was somehow comforted by their presence. You never know when the need might arise.
He walked the winding trail down to the village where people scurried about on their morning chores. He saw Osen and Deena, Davos’s younger daughter, cross the trail ahead of him. They had just come down from the ridge and now they headed towards the beach. Michael followed them there, but when he arrived they were sitting close together on an overturned skiff, Deena waving her hands in animated conversation. The hollow in Michael’s stomach seemed to get smaller when he saw them there. He left them alone and walked back to Davos’s house.
The fisherman met him at the doorway, pointed north and said; “Someone is waiting impatiently for you at the waterfall. And when you return I’ll show you how to toughen your hands for the fishing. We go out again in four days.”
Michael waved, but said nothing, the hollow within him shrinking once again. He climbed the steep trail leading north and east from the village, his legs stronger than they’d been the time before, and his breathing was normal when he reached the gathering fields. The big island was a jagged shadow above the horizon and two birds came in from seaward to fly overhead, sailing north. Michael thought about what Kari had said, that there were other gardens like the one on the island, but scattered inland. Toth had set boundaries, and his obedient chosen had not crossed them in three hundred years, but now the boundaries were gone and they would explore their world. Why the boundaries, anyway? What had Toth been doing inland that he didn’t want the people to see?
He strolled through the gathering fields and up the hillock below the pool, and again heard the tranquil sound of water falling over rock. His mind whirled with what there was to do: establishing order, rebuilding the fishing fleet, the school, relations with the islanders and still aloof planters, the adaptation of Toth’s island technology, and then, someday soon, the arrival of visitors, people with their own agendas and desires. What then?
The whirl of problems was wiped from his mind in an instant as he topped the hillock and saw the pool—and Gini. She was swimming in the center of the pool and waved. “Come on in! It’s just right!” She veered and dog-paddled towards him, a white shape beneath the clear water. A yellow butterfly fluttered above her head, then rushed away.
No time to be prudish. Michael took off his boots, stripped down to his shorts and paused, shivering.
Gini laughed. “Are those your bathing clothes?” She stood up in waist-deep water and held out her arms towards him.
Michael took one look at her, then pulled down his shorts and posed. “No, they are not.”
“Ohhh,” she said, giving him an appraising look and smiling at what she saw.
He waded into the water and it was cold, but in a few steps he had reached Gini and her arms were sliding around his neck, her warmth pouring into him.
His hands moved over her arms and back as her chin tilted up for a kiss, but he looked at her solemnly and said, “They’re gone.�
�
“I know,” she said as their lips touched, “but you’re here, and that’s all that matters to me.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
James C. Glass is a retired physics and astronomy professor and dean who now spends his time writing, painting, and traveling. He made his first story sale in 1988 and was the Grand Prize Winner of Writers of the Future in 1990. Since then he has sold six novels and a short story collection, and over forty short stories to magazines such as Aboriginal S.F., Analog, and Talebones. Jim writes science fiction, fantasy, and dark fantasy. He now divides his time between Spokane, Washington and Desert Hot Springs, California with wife Gail, who is a costumer and healing dancer. There are five grown children and eleven grandchildren scattered around the country. Jim also paints mountain, desert, and red rock scenics in oils and pastels, and is often heard playing didgeridoo and Native American flute. For more details, please see his web site at:
www.sff.net/people/jglass/