Battle On The Marathon

by John Thornton

  I still liked the engineering classes best, even though Kulm had much more of a natural inclination for that than I did. It all just seemed to click in his mind, like cogs in a giant machine. I did adequately in the other areas, but was not stellar in any specific class. There always seemed to be someone else who was just more talented than I was.

  Physical training continued, and we did more in the river than ever before. We still ran on the track, or pathway, but now we were swimming much more often, and even doing our calisthenics right in the river. Some of those exercises were downright cold, but we labored on.

  Seldom did we see the seniors, and only rarely did we catch a glimpse of the new sophomores.

  Food acquisition got more complicated as well, as the spearfishing, and hunting of the easier prey was left to the sophomores. As juniors, we took down the larger animals like the deer, elk, and boars. Although we still did get turkeys, as that was the preferred meat of most all of us. We were all really rather good with our spears, bows and arrows, darts, and flung projectiles.

  Additionally, instead of hand-powered weapons, we began training with more long-range weapons. These included the class of weapons which are projectile throwers powered by chemical explosives. Those are commonly called guns, and yet Mister Fisher taught us specific names of the various forms and styles and types of firearms.

  And that led to our first major injury. Well, I guess my spearing my own leg was a major injury, but nothing compared to what happened in the incident with Everett.

  It was a bright day with the sky tube shinning down. When, I heard Marie barking crazily. Oh, I guess, I should explain about the gimps, before I go any further.

  We had been given the RSW model G1MP, or what we affectionately called our gimp. But we never called it that while Mister Fisher was around. Someone said the term gimp had an insulting and derogatory meaning, but none of us could find that in the historical dictionaries in the records on our conservation slates, so we kept it as a nickname. Mister Fisher was the one who introduced that fine revolver to us, and our slates had all the specifications and information on the G1MP, and so we did christen it as our gimp. It was the first firearm I ever had.

  “This morning, you are being issued the RSW model G1MP. This is the first-line lethal weapon issued to security and police forces on the Colony Ship Marathon.” Mister Fisher was holding up the weapon. “It is an old and reliable design, but do not think of old and reliable as weak and or obsolete. I am old and reliable. Would any of you call me weak or obsolete?”

  No one responded.

  “Class,” Mister Fisher pressed, “I asked you a question. This time it was not for rhetorical thought provocation. Does anyone here think that I am old or obsolete?”

  “You are older than we are,” Bartlet replied.

  “Some of the ideas here that we learn are even older,” Pilliroog added as he looked to Bartlet. She gave him a brief but warm smile. “We study obsolete things often.”

  “Those two facts are absolutely correct. Learning from history is essential. If we do not learn our past, we will only blunder into the future. I would much rather you all be well versed and ready for the future. I assume you want to learn about this weapon, right?” Mister Fisher looked down at the revolver in his hand. It did look like what I had seen the sheriff carry, but she had never drawn it out, and I had only seen it briefly and in her holster.

  Seeing it in Mister Fisher’s hands was different than seeing it on the displays on my slate. Even the three-dimensional projections are not the same as holding an actual object in your hand. I guess books might be an exception to that. I have held a few paper bound books, and do not see any advantage to reading a paper printed book, as compared to one displayed on my slate.

  He went on. “The RSW model G1MP, is a six-shot revolver chambered for ten millimeter ammunition. Now, speaking of old and obsolete, in some of your readings you will come upon antiquated caliber designations. The G1MP ammunition is slightly larger than what the old world called .357 and .38 and .40 calibers. It is slightly smaller than what the pre-Great Event people called calibers .41, .44, and .45. Ballistic characterizes of all those old-style weapons are inferior to the G1MP’s ammunition, due in large measure to the better chemicals and components used. So, as you are doing your readings, keep things straight. Do not, I repeat, do not get confused about those old measurements and designations from before the Great Event. Just keep in mind that your G1MP is a very similar size, but it is fabricated here from superior materials, like permalloy. It ammunition is vastly superior to what you will read about. The operation of the G1MP is simplistic and functional. Again, that is a characteristic you could apply to me. It is a top load, break-action, revolver with automatic ejectors. The cylinder latch is located at the top, here, near the rear of the frame. It is operated by this tab, or button, which can be accessed from either side. It must be pushed inwards to unlock the frame.”

  He thumbed that tab, the dark barrel folded down, and the cylinder was exposed. He showed the empty cylinder to the class. As the cylinder and barrel rotated downward, extractors pushed up to remove bullets or casings from the cylinder. As I said, the gun was empty. I liked the way the mechanical parts smoothly worked as the revolver was opened.

  “Always, and I mean always, make sure you know the ammunition status of your weapon. Know it at all times, and in every situation. Especially, before you work on it. So, what should you always do?”

  We all repeated in unison, “Always know the ammunition status of my weapon.”

  Even Everett said that.

  Mister Fisher went on, “The G1MP weighs 1200 grams when fully loaded. Its barrel length is 150 millimeters, and its overall length is 260 millimeters. That overall length is for the standard issue with stock grips. Each of you will be issued grips which are custom fit to your hands. Those grips will be changed periodically as you grow, so each of your weapons will have slightly different final dimensions, and weight. The trigger pull is set at the standard, but that can be adjusted as we become proficient with these weapons. The G1MP can be fired in single action, or in double-action, and it has impeccable cycling and timing. Unlike its ancestors, this newest generation revolver has a built-in sound suppressor, so there is very little report. These weapons are easy to maintain, easy to learn, and deadly accurate when fired correctly. And I will teach you to fire it correctly, including rapid reloading, and on the fly targeting. I will explain now about the sights and targeting systems which are on each G1MP. The rear sight has the laser range…”

  I think Mister Fisher was more excited about introducing us to the gimps, than he was about nearly any other tool we had gotten up to that point. Partway though his discussion, Tomofei interrupted him.

  “Mister Fisher? By giving us guns, does that mean we are now part of the police forces, like Jane’s father?”

  “I am not ‘giving you guns’ as you so callously state.” Mister Fisher looked a bit disgusted, but then his face returned to normal. He looked down at the dark revolver. “I am instructing you in proper use of a tool, in this case one that has lethal consequences. Shall we consider what other things we have learned? I have given you detailed instructions on energy conduits, and cooling system repairs, along with vibration saws, vibration drills, welders, and engineering diagnostics. Does that make you part of Machine Maintenance?”

  No one said anything, but a few heads shook a negative response.

  “However, Timofei, I do see you point. The militia is called to be ready for any situation, so while we are not technically part of the police forces of the Marathon, there may be times where your duties will overlap with those of the police forces.”

  “We will need these guns to fight off the pirates,” Everett said smugly.

  Mister Fisher turned and stared at Everett, but said nothing.

  Everett’s smirk quickly disappeared under the intense gaze of Mister Fisher.

  Finally, Everett’s visual chastisement had apparently las
t long enough, and he looked close to tears. Then Mister Fisher continued, “So, just as you may have duties that require assisting in making repairs to the Marathon, there may also be times when you will need to be armed with lethal force. For example, in food acquisition, your G1MP might be needed if you stumble across a bear, lion, or other big predator. Of course, your first defense against any animal predator is your brain. Using the fine brains you have, and the training you are going though, will prevent many situations which could be dangerous. Lethal force against non-food animals is a last resort. Unlike the ancients, we do not see any sport in killing animals just for the sake of killing, nor is it valuable for the sake of training. Food acquisition from the feral boars is challenging, and so even in those cases, as you have seen, I have carried my own G1MP. Fortunately, none of you have required me to use it to save your lives. However, there might come a time where the G1MP is needed. For those times, I will be making you proficient.”

  Well, he passed out a gimp revolver to each of us, and we studied them for a long while. Holding that revolver in my hand, as I said we called them gimps—but I am not sure who first coined that nickname—I felt like we had progressed to a new level. Mister Fisher explained to us how we were to store and secure the weapons in the armory, and how they would be checked in and out for specific assignments and training.

  As I look back over my remembrances and log here, I can see I am trying to avoid relating what happened with Everett. Recalling that has brought back more pain than I expected. After all I have seen, that surprises me, so I will just plunge into that horrible event.

  I was on garden duty. Not a fun job, but not hard by any means. Just rather boring, usually kneeling in the dirt and assessing the growth of the crops. Sometimes it involved reprogramming the agricultural automacubes, sort-of like Greenie back home. I am again avoiding the topic, sorry.

  The sky tube was bright and sunny, like I said, and it was shining down on me as I worked. I was in the far vegetable garden, when I suddenly heard Marie barking madly. Not in anger, or in play, or like she did when she caught and killed a rabbit or gopher. I knew something was really wrong. I jumped up and took off as fast as I could. The pathway flew by beneath me as I ran. My wristwatch started flashing white lights and its mechanical voice warbled out, “Medical Emergency.” It gave the coordinates, as well as displaying the spot on a map overlay shown on the small screen. I glanced at that as I ran. I was already sprinting that direction, following the sounds of Marie’s continuous barking. The display showed that I was the closest person. I heard Everett wailing, so I ran faster than I had ever moved before.

  I came around a corner of the trail. Several feral bovines were stampeding my way out of the woods and onto the path. They were coming from the direction of Everett’s cries. I stopped in my tracks. The bovines rushed right at me. I waved my arms around wildly. I think I yelled something too. Somehow, that worked. They turned off the trail and crashed through the underbrush into the denser parts of the forest.

  I went the other way, heading up trail they had blazed. I could hear Everett up ahead somewhere. Marie met me on the trail, barked a lot, turned and ran off. The dog stopped every once in a while, and looked back to make sure I followed. I pumped my legs as hard as I could, but there were all kinds of ruts, vines, and stomped down bushes to get over. I remembered that Everett and Radha were on food acquisition duty, but I did not recall where they were doing that, nor what prey they sought.

  I stumbled on, trying my best to run. Reaching a clearing, I saw Everett kneeling down next to Radha. He was wailing out. Marie went past him and was running in circles around all of us.

  “What happened?” I huffed as I leaned over and tried to catch my breath. “Was she trampled?”

  “I thought it would be easier.” Everett turned and looked at me with crazed eyes. “I just thought…” His words merged into another wail of anguish.

  I looked down. I saw blood. Blood was everywhere. Blood was all over the ground, and was pouring out from a huge wound in Radha’s abdomen. Her eyes were rolled back in her head and had a dullness to them. Her color was odd, ghostlike. Too many times since then I have seen that look. The feral bovines had horns, and I tried to picture Radha getting gored. I choked down bile as it threated to make me puke.

  “Where is your first aid kit?” I screamed at him.

  “I never wanted…” he broke down sobbing and fell to the ground.

  Under the blood, I saw what I needed. I grabbed the first aid kit which was on Radha’s belt, and popped it open. It was covered in her blood, but the inside pouches were intact. I bit the top off one pouch and ripped it apart, spilling the trauma syringe. I picked it up and jabbed it into her leg.

  By then, Doctor 12B, the medical automacube rolled up next to me, sirens blaring, lights flashing. It said, “I will take over.”

  Ignoring it, I grabbed some bandages and jammed then into the gushing flow of blood in her side. “Apply pressure to the wound” I remembered in my mind. The chemicals in the bandages got firmer and sealed over where I pressed, but then several adult-sized hands pulled me physically away from Radha’s body.

  I heard all kind of noises, voices, and words, but nothing was clear. I stood off to the side, and just stared at my hands. Blood was mixed all over my fingers and palms with the dirt from the garden. Stuck into that brown and red mixture were bits of wrapping from the packages which I had opened.

  Everett was crying hysterically, and babbling something.

  More confused words came from multiple sources, but I did not understand what all was being said. Next to the white automacube were three adults, all dressed like Mister Fisher. Some kind of bag was inflated over the top of Radha, and I thought she was dead.

  I fell down to my knees and looked at the ground. I know this is weird to recall, but there were clovers all over the ground at that spot. Some had white flowers on them. Tiny little white flowers spread across a sea of green clovers. I was shaking, as I smeared my hands across the clovers and tried to get clean. I think Marie licked my face, but I might have imagined that. She was such a good dog.

  “Was she gored?” Someone asked, who was very near to me.

  “He had a gun here!” Jane said from somewhere.

  “He had a gun here?” Another voice answered. “Really?”

  Somehow, someone helped me up. I think it was Tudeng and Brett, but everyone was there. I even saw the red security automacube cruising around the area, but I paid it no attention.

  “I should have run faster. Maybe she would not have died,” I said as I was lifted up to my feet.

  Mister Fisher’s face appeared out of the crowd, and got within just a few centimeters of my face. “Kalju, you listen to me. Hear me! Radha is not dead. Not right now.”

  “Too much blood?” I asked.

  “She is being taken to hospital,” Mister Fisher replied. “She is being placed into emergency suspended animation.” I felt his hand on my face. He squeezed my cheeks, harder than I expected. “Kalju? Did you hear me?”

  “Bovines were in the way. I had to cut through, but she was on the ground.” I tried to look at Mister Fisher, but it was too hard. “I should have gotten here sooner.”

  “Kalju!” he barked.

  I met his eyes.

  He lowered his voice. “You got here faster than anyone else, except Marie, and you did the right things. Giving her the trauma injection probably saved her life. You did well in a terribly hard situation. I am proud of you, son.”

  “But what happened?” I asked in a quivering voice. “The wild bovines have horns?”

  Mister Fisher somehow had gotten a moist cloth and was gently washing my hands. “Her wounds were not caused by an animal.”

  I looked beyond him, and saw that the security automacube was rolling next to Everett who was walking away. Some other adults were around him. I tried to see what was going on, but then other people got between us.

  I never saw Everett again. Not ever. />
  Somehow, Mister Fisher and I ended up standing there all alone.

  “You should be with Radha,” I stated.

  “I can do nothing more to assist her. She will get the best medical treatment possible. You will need to change clothing and then get back to the garden. I believe you are still on duty.”

  “I suppose so.” I looked down and my hands were clean, but there was blood on my pants and all over my shoes. “What will happen?”

  “Indeed, what will happen?” Mister Fisher said. He put his arm around me and gave me a hug. “We will endure together.” Then together we walked back to the Raven Academy lodge. I think we just walked in silence, but the noises of the forest were all around us. Everything sounded more acute, intense, and just louder. As we passed some lilac bushes, I noted that their aroma was more pungent than ever. That was one of the first times I recall my senses going into that super-sensitive mode I have come to know so well. I often wish that had never been required.