Battle On The Marathon

by John Thornton

  I pounded on that thick wall of permalloy which the ECC had created. “I just want to know about my friends!” Its dull green finish did not show any signs from where I hit it, but my hand smarted.

  The LT’s voice came through our transceivers. “Eight-Squad, I have linked in a view from the transport automacube. You deserve to know what happens to that Jellie Kalju killed. I wish I could do more. Kalju, I have no information on your friends, if I did, I would give it to you.”

  On the small display on my transceiver I could see the red automacube and the carcass of the Jellie. Incendiary gel shot out from the front of the security automacube and coated the entire Jellie. Then it erupted in flames. The flames danced all across the carapace, without doing much to it at all. The body we had exposed from the inside however did burn and char with the high heat. It was good to see that alien shriveling up. The automacube poured more gel onto the body until it was just a black husk. Still, the carapace was undamaged. I wondered again what that was made from, and nodded as I agreed more and more with the idea it was some kind of alien technology, a Jellie spacesuit.

  The signal cut off.

  “Those automacubes are now leaving the entire area, which will be vented into space,” the LT stated.

  I looked at the display and shifted it to the deck plans. The area where we had been was now labeled as red. Decompression and vacuum had already happened in that part of the constituent joint. I looked at the red areas, and there were many more of them than the brown flooded ones. Our green area looked tiny in comparison. I wanted to ask Kulm for his engineering assessment and what he thought of the red areas which snaked about and were open to space, but then my mind again told me Kulm was dead. That reminded me again, even though I was trying to push their images out of my mind, of the dead people from Ten-Squad.

  “So, all those soldier from Ten-Squad just get tossed out like garbage? Lost into the cold and void of space?” I stated flatly.

  “We could not save them now. They will not be forgotten,” I know there were tears of sorrow in the LT’s voice, but what she said angered me anyway.

  “I will never forget this, or anyone who dies,” I muttered.

  Lazlo asked something more of the LT about getting security automacubes to assist us. He was arguing for how it was essential, but was hearing how few there were and how none were available, or something like that. I did not pay much any attention to that quarrel. I looked at Kensington and Prezsky and neither of them were in any shape for further combat.

  “Where will the Jellies come next?” I asked Ella.

  “Could be anywhere, but both ends of this corridor are open to space,” Ella responded. “Help me get these two back to the barracks. When the Jellies come, that might be our most defensible place right now. There are four ECCs which can be dropped between here and there. Two on the Styx side and two on the needle ship side. Might slow down the Jellies.”

  We helped them get to the barracks, where I set about giving them medical treatment. I sent in several requests for medical automacubes, but I think those applications for assistance just went floating off into the cold and void of space as well. Wherever the submissions went, no medical automacubes ever came to help us. All my transceiver was linking to was the library and its automated responses. Sure, it seemed to take my requests, but no response was received. Lazlo was still arguing with the LT, but that conversation ended shortly after we got to the barracks. Lazlo’s demeanor was to say the least, upset.

  I applied the medical treatments, using the supplies we had in the barracks, to Kensington and Prezsky. Ella resupplied herself with grenades and other ammunition and stood watch at the doorway to the barracks. Lazlo was with her. I fully expected alarms bells, or the sounds of ECCs crashing down, or even to see a wall buckle in with the purplish glow of a Jellie behind it. Instead, it was calm and quiet.

  Kensington and Prezsky did not want to be out of the fight, but they knew they needed to heal, and quickly. So, they consented to sedation and treatments. When they awoke later, they were much improved, and no Jellies had attacked. I was certain it would not be long.

  Again, I was wrong.

  For the next 18 months, we continued to patrol and watch that corridor. We got weekly supplies, mostly suspended animation food containers, that came through the gravity conduit in the barracks. A few boxes of medical treatments and one supply of ammunition did come through as well, but they had not been ordered. The LT occasionally checked in on us, but she had no news, and no matter how many times I asked, I was never allowed to contact anyone in Kansas, and still had no idea what had happened to my friends. For a long while, during that waiting, I blamed the LT for failing to help me. I always thought she could have done more, but it was, what it was.

  Anxiety was always high. We did our patrols fully expecting a Jellie to come bursting in from some flooded hallway or connected corridor. The deck plans on the transceiver changed colors once in a while, usually from brown to red, but it did go the other way as well. I never did figure out who was controlling that stuff. Maybe it was the officers, or maybe it was the Jellies? Both? Neither?

  As I walked, I knew that if a Jellie would have opened up a wall from one of the decompressed areas, I would probably die immediately. We had no spacesuits, and the Emergency Containment Curtains were designed to drop immediately if a significant decrease in atmosphere was detected. That would seal off the section where that breach took place, regardless if one of us was inside it or not.

  During that entire time, there were no Jellies attacks. We worked two shifts, and that meant two of us on one shift, and three on the other. We changed up the rotation, just to keep from boredom. The Eight-Squad did our job, but there was nothing to do but watch and wait. On duty, we patrolled that corridor. Off duty we ate, slept, played ludo, or oware, or chess, and read books we could access from the library.

  Being the youngest member or Eight-Squad was hard in its own way. The other four had a long relationship with each other, from when they were in the police services. Those four had their private moments, and when a pair of them separated off for a night or two, by dividing off some of the barracks, we respected that. Once Ella invited me to be involved with her, but it was more out of pity, and I felt so strange I just ran away. She and I never spoke of it again after that. I had no one who knew me from before, and no common link to those other soldiers. One day passed like the rest, and as Prezsky and I were coming off patrol, Lazlo met us at the doorway to the barracks.

  “The LT has news,” Lazlo stated. “We are all here now, LT. Why did you want us all together?”

  “This is Lieutenant Bridget Harpy of the Blue Tigers. You are patched into the new Military Complex 001 artificial intelligence,” the LT was being very formal, and that in its own way was frightening. “It can be addressed as MC001, and it is a subsidiary of IAM Lenore. The Blue Tigers, all squads, are to immediately report to Queen for deployment. A safe passageway to the needle ship will be pressurized and heated, but only for the next three hours. You must proceed there via that passageway. Further orders will be given once you reach the needle ship.”

  “LT? What do we do about the barracks here?” Lazlo asked.

  My transceiver made a noise I had not heard before. “Message from MC001. Answer: that position is no longer needed. Each of you is being tracked, and when the final member of each squad passes a bulkhead, the doors will be shut and everything behind that will be decompressed and vented into space,” a strange and mechanical voice came through the transceivers.

  “That was MC001, so troops, head out now. We will be joining battle in Queen, so take all the munitions you can carry,” the LT stated.

  I looked at my transceiver, and I saw the passageway turning from red to green on the deck plans. It was a serpentine pathway from our position into the needle ship, but it looked passable. I just hoped the Jellies were not monitoring the decks.

  And that, dear Ryan, was the final time I spent in that constitue
nt joint. Was I in Styx, not really. Was I in the needle ship? Nope. I forgot to mention, I was able to grow out my beard there, but it was scraggily and not very thick. It also made my face itch.

  5

  Campaign for Queen

  Well, I am back to record some more on this journal for you, my dear Ryan. I thought we had all the kinks worked out so we could make the big jump, but sadly, more unexpected problems arose. It will take several more days, at least, and some additional advanced calculations to make it go. Stridell and Samuels are working with the Major on that, but wait, I have not even told you about them. I am getting way ahead of myself. So, let me take a few deep breaths, of some clean air, and review what I was telling you.

  Oh, right, I was just getting to where the Blue Tigers moved to Queen. Wow, that seems so long ago, and I guess it really was long ago, and far away. In some ways, it was so much better than it is today. I guess today’s problems are enough for today, but back then, I thought I knew about problems, but I was really just a dumb kid.

  Sure, I had put down that one Jellie, there in that corridor, but many fruitless patrols down that corridor had happened after that, and before we hiked to Queen. The pathway which had been re-pressurized was indeed a strange and twisting journey through back corridors, up and down ladders, access shafts, and companionways. But we did make it into the needle ship without incident. And yes, the bulkheads were shut down as soon as the last of our squad passed those doorways. That whole hike we were each laden down with as much ammo, grenades, and food as we could carry. I also brought several boxes of medical supplies, since I had yet to see a single medical automacube since I was discharged from that hospital.

  As Eight-Squad got into the needle ship, everything changed. There were people around again. Civilian people. They looked at us in odd ways, but they were going about typical business. I wondered why they were not armed, and if they had had any incursions by the Jellies. I was about to approach one of them and ask, but the transceiver interrupted me. It made that new sound.

  “Message from MC001. Proceed to tube transport station as indicated on deck plan. Take transport to Queen.”

  The display showed a flashing blue arrow which was pointing at a location not far away.

  “Corporal Lazlo?” I asked, using his rank. I guess with the regular people nearby, I felt the need to show them he was the one in charge. “I thought the tube system was flooded.”

  “Apparently, the flooding was contained to Foreigner and Styx. After all, there is a limited supply of liquids on the Marathon. Not everything can be flooded, right?” Lazlo looked more confident than I felt.

  I did not answer. I knew how much water was originally in those two aquatic habitats, and if that was diverted to the tube system, then it would easily saturate every tube on the Marathon. But then my mind asked, “But if the Jellies need to live in a fluid environment, then how much can they afford to expend liquids by flooding areas?” But that thought made me compare the idea of Jellies and water, to humans and air. “We saturated nearly everything with air, perhaps the Jellies saturate nearly everything with their version of water?” My mind spun, but I followed Lazlo and the rest of Eight-Squad to the transport hub.

  Arriving in Queen, I felt a bit of that little-kid excitement creep back in. I was going to see another biome. I knew Queen, whatever its official designation was, consisted of, well, sort-of, a ranching type ecology with orchards and dairy farms. Like all the habitats, it had two towns, and I recall their names: Nuwa, Sheba. Thinking back, I wonder if someone will one day liken Nuwa and Sheba to towns like Alexandria, Jericho, Stalingrad, Dresden, Kanpur, Nagasaki, Cincinnati, and Kumasi. How long would the list be if every city ravished by war was listed?

  Well, that is for future historians, if there are any, and if we can make this big jump happen. Sorry to digress, I was telling you about my going to Queen, right?

  We unloaded from the tube transport vehicle into the town of Sheba. The transport tube terminal was in the basement of what they called their chatelet. It was a lot like the courthouse in Colby where I took those tests on my birthday so long ago. The town’s mayor, the police forces, governmental offices, the church’s sanctuary, and the courts were there. As we unloaded our gear from the vehicle, some soldier in more advanced body armor met us. He had stripes of red around each arm, which contrasted with the deep and glossy blue color of his armor.

  “You are the Blue Tigers?” He said. “MC001 ordered me to meet you here. I am Sergeant Ethan Hidalgo of the Queen’s Red Guard.” The helmet, with its faceplate open, revealed most of his face, but the tones in his voice were anything but welcoming. A snigger crossed his lips, “I will assist you.”

  Lazlo made introductions.

  “Make sure your weapons are unloaded, and all explosive ordinance is secured safely,” Sergeant Ethan commanded. “You are in Queen now, and this is not some wild-west or sideshow.”

  “Have the Jellies attacked this biome too?” I asked.

  Sergeant Ethan turned and gave me a brief appraisal. He dismissed my question with a wave of his hand. Turning to Lazlo he said, “This boy of yours, he is one of those kind? You allow that?” He shook his head sideways just ever so slightly. “Conspiracy theories and bizarre rumor-mongering will not be tolerated here. Talk of strange beasts or fantasy monsters is not helpful. The common people do not need to be subject to fearful fairytales.”

  “Fairytales? What do…” I blurted out, but was interrupted by Lazlo.

  “Sergeant, let me make this perfectly clear. You may count all of the Blue Tigers, each of us here before you, as ‘one of those kind.’ For we have seen the enemy. The Jellies are real. Did you receive any information from MC001?”

  “Real? Oh, I see your game. You expect me to play along with this training exercise? Be one with the scenario,” Sergeant Ethan responded. “Yes, I suppose for the sake of mock realism and training I can play pretend with you as well. MC001 is in prototype mode, and needs to have the bugs and glitches worked out, so I suppose this method is as good as any other. Waste of time for Queen’s Red Guard, if you ask me, but I am an obedient man. So, you are calling this fictitious enemy, the Jellies. Oh, how charming. To answer the question, yes, MC001 said mobilization and concentration of some forces from other habitats was happening. That prototype, MC001 said that those…” he looked scornfully at our beards, one by one, “… I suppose soldiers—to use the term loosely— would congregate here. I am to give you instructions on where you can bivouac. Outside here is a lorry. On it you will find tents and other supplies. Come, let us play pretend and I will show you the ground transportation.”

  My anger was rising, but the sergeant was clearly a fool, or at best a stubbornly ignorant man. Then it struck me, maybe the Jellies had been defeated, and our battles were over. So, I spoke up quickly, “I would like to contact my parents in Kansas. Will you arrange that for me, please?”

  “That one is certainly brazen,” that sergeant stated, and looked again to Lazlo. “This battle exercise will be in Queen. The Red Guard will be coordinating these tactical schemes and exercises. Call them wargames if you want, or whatever.”

  Lazlo pressed him, and I was surprised, “Private Kalju asked you a direct question. Is it possible to give him a direct answer?”

  “Oh dear. Mollycoddling your underlings, how quaint.” He turned to me. “There is no contact allowed outside of Queen for the duration of these schemes.”

  “When was the last time you contacted someone outside of Queen?” Lazlo asked. “With all due respect, sergeant, we have not been in much contact with anyone for some time, besides our LT. I would like to know when you last contacted someone in a different habitat.”

  Sergeant Ethan huffed a bit. “I have never contacted anyone outside of Queen. I get my orders from my superiors in Queen’s Red Guard. I have no need, nor any desire, to sully myself with folk from the other habitats.”

  “He does not know Foreigner and Styx are lost,” Prezsky stated un
der her breath.

  “Of course, I know about Styx and Foreigner. Terrible business that mechanical breakdown. Terribly sad when lives are lost. While repairs are made, the refugees from there have been given shelter and hospitality. Yes, that part is true. I know the water systems in both those habitats were polluted, and that is a tragedy. But all our reports show it was clearly a mechanical failure in Styx and Foreigner. That much is obvious, since we have refugees here in Queen. However, the ridiculous rumors about space monsters are just nonsense. Machinery breaks, and admittedly, that was a tragedy, but repairs are underway, and now we are doing a simple military exercise. No need for fanciful and imaginative gossiping.”

  “I understand your position,” Lazlo stated with a finality in his voice. He also conveyed in those few words the fact that he disagreed, but did so without explicitly stating that.

  By that time, we had risen to ground level, and the sky tube was shining down on a landscape which made me cry. It was beautiful.