Battle On The Marathon

by John Thornton

  Battle on the Marathon

  John Thornton

  Copyright © 2017 Automacube Enterprises LLC

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1541119253

  ISBN-10: 1541119258

  DEDICATION

  This book is in memory of my father, Slim Thornton. He was in battle in World War II and seldom spoke about it. He also battled some other issues in his life, but never wrestled with a Jellie, so far as I know. I still miss you dad. I do remember a lot of your jokes, and some of them I can even tell my church friends. Thanks for the memories.

  Contents

  Indoctrination

  Training

  First Mission

  Attrition

  Campaign for Queen

  Poison Bread

  The Long Journey

  Trojan-Horses

  Operation Peanut Butter

  Homeward Bound

  Legacy

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Cover art by Dedefox

  This is a work coming out of my imagination. The characters, places, and situations are fictional, duh! If they remind you of real life people, well, that is just a coincidence, or some rumbling in my unconscious mind.

  If you like this book I would appreciate a positive review.

  This book will probably be the only one I write specifically about the Colony Ship Marathon. If you want to read more stories taking place in what I call the Colony Ship Universe, check out the other twenty-six books which I have written. They are in three series: The Colony Ship Eschaton, The Colony Ship Vanguard, and The Colony Ship Conestoga. Each of those series is completed.

  I do have plans for other books set in this same Colony Ship Universe.

  1

  Indoctrination

  I vividly recall being indoctrinated into the militia. It was my twelfth birthday. And so I am recording this log of my battles on the Marathon. The Major says we have some down time before the big jump, so I will be giving my life story to you, Ryan. Yeah, I know, you already know all about the beginning years, but here it is anyway. Oh, I am not good at making logs, so forgive me when I mess this up. I never could remember the official names for the various habitats. I know I learned them sometime in school, before the militia, but I just do not remember them now. So, as I relate what I recall, I will just use the names we commonly called them.

  That day was warm, as the sky tube shone down on our farm in Kansas habitat. The day before it had rained, so that indoctrination day was day one of the weather cycle. The corn was just about ready for harvest, and those golden tassels danced in the breezes as I waited on the porch. The air was fresh, the day was bright, and Kansas was alive and well. Mom and dad told me the night before that I would be gathered up for the assessment and evaluation, but as the oldest, I was unsure what that really meant. Wow, would I learn.

  Susie, Kristy, and Lacey would be having the same experience, only a few years later, or so I thought then. Of course, you were going just a year behind me. Mom and dad had shared breakfast with me, lavished some hugs on me, but were out in the sweetcorn field while I waited. You and the girls were still inside, I think. Mom and dad thought I would be home by lunchtime. Mom was going to bake me a cake for my birthday, chocolate with coconut pecan frosting.

  Elav was the only one with me on that porch. He had just caught a rat coming out of the corn crib and was still excitedly bounding around. His barking was ferocious, even though he had already defeated his enemy. Oh, how he loved to hunt rats, rabbits, and racoons. The white fur around his neck was all bristly from his battle. He had more energy in his little legs than a lufi battery on full charge. Our furry friend would run to the crib, stick his nose into every gap in the permalloy wire, nose all around it, and then look back for my approval. His deep brown colored eyes were bright and alive. He was quite the hero, Elav was, in his mind. A few times he would run back to the porch and I scratched his back, you know that place where he had the tan spot. The only tan place on that whole white dog, well except for his tan ears. He loved having that spot on his back rubbed, but even that would not stop his excitement for long. I would rub him for a bit, then he looked back to the crib. He kept running back to his scene of victory. Round and round the corn crib he would run, looking for another enemy. I suppose I disposed of that rat, or maybe Elav ate it. That part I do not remember. Oh, those bright and happy eyes, full of the thrill of the hunt, and certain of his confidence of winning.

  I waited. That old man, Punana, with his scraggily, wild, red hair, came by in that rickety wagon of his. Remember that broken down rattletrap? For the life of me, I cannot remember his horse’s name. Along with him that morning were four other kids my age. He waved to me, so I got on. We were all sitting on burlap sacks filled with his already shelled corn. I guess he had harvested his already. Dad always said that guy was in too big of a hurry for everything.

  We rode down into Colby, and the road was sort-of muddy in places. That old horse kept plodded along. The other children and I just rode on those corn sacks, but it was not too bumpy. Were we really called aspirants then? I think we were. Well, we all sat there pretty quietly as old Punana babbled on and on. He was telling one of his dumb stories about being at the launch or something like that, but I could not have cared less. I was thinking about the test, that official assessment and evaluation.

  As the wagon pulled up in front of the courthouse, that old man, Punana, well, he grabbed my shoulder before I could jump out of his crappy old wagon. He glared at me and said, “Become a farmer. Always have food.” I mumbled something, but he would not let me go. “You have a choice in what you do. Be a farmer!” I shook off his grip and ran to catch up to the others.

  Those big fancy courthouse doors were already open, and the tester lady had a table set up. The testing booths were along the one side, and those other kids were already lining up. I was last in line, but the tester, a lady about mom’s age, smiled nicely at me. Her hair was stacked up on her head, but it was tidy and neat. Mom would have said it was pretentious, or prideful, maybe?

  Well, when I got to the front of that line, I told them who I was. She checked it on one of those old conservation slates, the kind they all used to use. She had me place my arm on that slate, and some goofy light shined on me. She just nodded. Then had me go down to booth number five. As I was walking down there, she called out to me, “Oh, and happy birthday.” Then she checked the kid behind me. I had thought I was last in line.

  Some birthday huh?

  Well, I sat in that booth and waited. After a while the lady came and she unpacked a bunch of stuff from the front of that booth. She put some headphones on me, and these goggle things, which were like wired-up spectacles. She stuck my hands in those sensor gloves they make you wear. It was weird. When I was hooked up, she went to the next booth, the door closed, and the test started. My ears sweat as I went through all the test questions. Lots of questions. I thought I would get a grade, like at school, but nope. I guess, from what I know now, I did get a score, and got noticed, but I never saw it. I was hungry by the time all those questions were finished, and I snuck a bite of some jerky I had in my dungarees. That helped a bit, but made me more thirsty, so it was sort-of a tradeoff. I hardly knew about thirst then, right?

  When the test was over, I pulled off the headphones, glasses, and gloves. I tried to wind up all the cables and cords. I could not get them to fit back into the compartments. I yanked the gloves off, and felt something snap in the wires. The door on that booth popped open, and testing lady was standing there. But all the other children were already gone. She had a smile on, but it was different from the one she gave me when she called, “Happy birthday.” I could not tell what she was thinking, but, I
am pretty sure I broke something. I thought she was mad, but her face just looked different to me. Not mad, or angry, just, well, I am not sure what. She told me she would put it all away properly.

  She placed a hand on my shoulder, but not like old Punana. Her touch was gentle, soft, and she just guided me toward the toilets. You know, the public toilets there by the courtrooms. The long urinal trough had water flowing through it, dribbling down along the white finish. I was the only one in there, and I was glad. I would rather use the trees in the grove than stand next to some man who was passing water. Well, when I came out, she was still there, and standing next to her was a man in a uniform.

  I was surprised. That was the first uniform I have ever seen. Well, except for the suits the ushers wore at the theater there in Colby. But remember, we all used to think those ushers were just pretentious too? Those dumb yellow hats which would sort-of glow-in-the-dark so you could see them in the shadowy theatre. I guess, now that I think about it, the sheriff back then wore a uniform too, but I just always thought of her as the sheriff. This new man was wearing an olive green colored uniform, and he looked like he was three meters tall.

  With him was a red automacube, and for a bit I thought maybe I really was in trouble. I knew I broke something in those fancy techie gloves. Maybe the lady was not so nice as I thought, and I was going to be punished for breaking stuff. I looked back and forth between that red automacube and the man for a long time. I kept wondering about the jail in Colby. I had heard about it, but I had never seen it. Was I in that much trouble?

  Those red automacubes are not like our Greenie on the farm. Sure, they are all automacubes, so the basic pattern is the same, but the red ones are different. They look tougher. In school, I had read about the various kinds of automacubes, but that was the first red one I ever saw in real life. It was much tougher looking than old Greenie, and bigger. Where Greenie’s six drive wheels were all stained from working the fields, this red one’s wheels were just dull black. Slick like nothing could ever stick to them. Knobby treads stuck out on all six tires, but the big difference was that gun port on the front. Greenie has spigots and coupling shoe mounts, and its bendy arm is good for digging and stuff. Well, you know that, sorry. But right in the center of the front of that red one was that three-barreled gun. I wanted to reach over and touch it, as it looked like it had really been fired, but the man spoke to me before I could do that.

  “Kalju Tasandikuelanik, I am going to be your new best friend. Oh, and happy birthday. Only rarely does an aspirant actually come for testing right on his or her birthday. That is an omen of great things.”

  Yes, now I am sure we were called aspirants then. That was before. Well, I looked away from the red automacube, a security model, and looked at that man’s eyes. The tester lady was watching, but with just a slight nod from this new man, she turned and walked briskly away.

  “Do I tell you sir? Are you the one that I tell what I want to be as my job?” Old Punana’s words about being a farmer rushed through my head, but I shoved those ideas aside. I knew what I wanted to be.

  That big man made a quick gesture, and the red automacube rolled away. He then squatted down and was nearly as tall as me, even when he was squatting. “Son, you are now part of the Marathon’s Militia. I am your instructor. You will call me Mister Fisher.” He laughed just a bit and then went on. “You may hear some of the officers or flight crew call me Wild Bill, but none of you inductees should ever call me that.”

  “I want to be an engineer,” I stammered back. “I like building things, and repairing stuff. My dad says being an engineer is a good choice.” Looking at the floor was easier than looking at that man. The floor was clean, neat, and polished. I guess so was that man, but in a different kind of way and he was right there. “I can get rides into Colby to go to the tech-school here.” I stuttered as I spoke, but then got it out clearly. “I chose to be an engineer. Please?”

  “Son,” Mister Fisher said. “Choices are great, when we can make them. One fact you need to understand is that people do not always get what we want.”

  I thought I had failed all the tests.

  “I guess I will just go home now. My mom and dad are expecting me.” I did not mention the chocolate cake with coconut pecan frosting.

  With a calloused, but tender finger, Mister Fisher lifted my chin until I was looking right at him. “You will have a new home now. Your parents will be notified that you are in the Marathon Militia. Always remember, we will win this together.”

  His pale-gray eyes left no doubt in my mind about further argument. The steel color of his mustache was only slightly different in shade from his eyes. His black pupils were too intense to argue with.

  “You will accompany me now as we depart for Raven Academy,” Mister Fisher stated.

  “Sir, I am not sure what a Mishna really is.”

  “Not Mishna. You are now part of the Marathon Militia. Different words, but they do sound similar. You are in the Militia, and son, you will learn. Yes, you will learn. Repeated learning in fact.” Mister Fisher said. He was still towering over me, but looked a little more normal. He took my hand in his large one, and off we went. I wanted to go home, but I was still scared about breaking the glove things, so I went with him.

  “Ravens are birds, right? Like the crows and blackbirds which steal corn.” I did not know what else to say as we started to walk away. “Bigger than crows, right?”

  “Son, believe me when I tell you that questions are good. I encourage you to ask them. Ask questions until your heart is content. However, just think for a few moments before you ask each question.” He took full strides and I had to walk fast to keep up. “If you already know the answer, why ask the question? Are you seeking confirmation? Are you unsure? Are you trying to get more and better information? Are you testing the person to whom you ask? Or are you filling your time with meaningless prattle? Why did you ask about ravens?”

  We had nearly reached the rear doors of the courthouse.

  I hesitated, but Mister Fisher did not seem to be mocking me. He was not like that annoying Dale who lived on the farm down by the lake. Dale was a jerk, and teased people just because he thought he knew everything. If Dale thought he could play a trick on you, he always did. I learned long ago not to trust Dale with anything, after he dunked me in the lake when I was so little. But this man was different. So, I trusted this new man. “You said we are going to some place called Raven Academy. An academy is some kind of school. Is being in the militia about taking care of birds?”

  As Mister Fisher opened the door to leave the courthouse, he replied, “That is a good deduction, using a very limited amount of information. Bravo on that attempt. However, you are incorrect.”

  Outside was a vehicle, like I had never seen before. Sort-of a sandy-tan color, it had only four wheels, so two less than a automacube, but it also was large enough for people to ride inside. Not like some horse-drawn wagon, but it was powered, motorized, like the tractor, only different.

  “Son, climb inside.” Mister Fisher opened the door.

  “I think I should go home,” I said quietly. “My parents do not know you, and I do not know you.”

  He turned to me. “Again, I commend you on your security consciousness. Bravo. If you had just blindly obeyed me, I would have had doubts. Will this help?” He snapped on a small display on the dashboard of the vehicle. “Lean in here and observe.”

  I saw my parents on the display. Dad turned to look right at me.

  “Dad?”

  “Kalju, I understand the test is completed. We have people here now explaining it to us. Go with that man, Mister Fisher. We will talk later,” dad replied. His voice was solid, but I could tell he was puzzled. Like that time the cattle got sick. Do you remember that? You were really little then. Dad spoke to a bunch of other farmer trying to figure out what was making the cattle sick. His voice reminded me of that. “Kalju, it really is okay to go with him.”

  “If you say so,” I
said with hesitation. “Can we really talk later?”

  “Yes. Your mother too,” dad answered.

  Mister Fisher switched off the display and gestured toward the vehicle. Inside the vehicle, the seat was big and cushy. The red automacube was already in the back just sitting there. The whole cabin was sealed in, not like the farm tractor, not at all. This was sealed in with clear permalloy windows, and a top and everything. You could not even hear the outside once the doors shut. Mister Fisher climbed in. He reached over and strapped me in at my waist and shoulders. That was kind of scary, but he did the same to himself and then pushed some of the controls. The vehicle moved smoothly away, with hardly any sound at all. It was my first ride in something new, but would hardly be my last.

  We took that big road out of Colby. You remember, that road mom and dad said we were not supposed to cross. The one a couple streets over on the other side of the courthouse. Well, I rode in that vehicle out of the town and past places I had never seen before. Of course, Colby was the same as it always was, people walking down the streets, vendors selling and trading and buying, and little children running about, but I felt different. I was riding in some powered vehicle. When we went by, people stopped and watched us. It was quite a thrill to be inside that vehicle, but I had no one to tell. I suppose I could have told Mister Fisher, except I did not say anything to him. He kept looking ahead, like it was all normal for him, and I guess it was.