Battle On The Marathon

by John Thornton

  “Does this structure have a basement?”

  “Yes. We have a basement, and a wine cellar. Why?” the man asked me.

  “How do I get in there?”

  “Come in the front door. I will show you. Is there a problem?”

  “Send everyone else away for now. It might be nothing, but better to be safe.”

  A woman near the man hustled the other members of the family away from the balcony as I went around the front. “LT? The automacube here is definitely picking up something. I cannot tell what. I am investigating.”

  “That racoon was a pest, and it showed a lot of movement which was picked up as vibrations. I wish I had people to spare to send and assist, but our lines are stretched thin already. Keep me informed on what you find,” the LT signed off.

  The house was nice. It was more luxurious than our place in Kansas, but I did not admire the décor for very long. The man, who I identified as the homeowner, met me at the door and showed me where the staircase to the basement was. He was visibly terrified. The stairway was not in a logical location.

  “Stay up here, and if I say run, you move as fast as you can and warn the others,” I ordered.

  “Okay, well, I understand, okay, yes.”

  “Take some deep breaths, and remain focused,” I said to him.

  Descending the spiral staircase to the basement I wondered why things always seemed to happen after I was finishing a day-long shift. The basement had game tables, couches, and some exercise equipment. As I walked around the billiard table, I heard a scratching noise. I saw no purple light, or glow, or anything like that, but there was a distinct scratching sound coming from the only door in the room.

  “The wine cellar is off to the back, behind the kitchenette,” the man called down to me. “Have you found anything?” The quivering in his voice was bad.

  “Still searching. Be ready to run if I call out to you.”

  I checked the amvex grenades on my belt. I wondered how big the concussion would be in such a confined space. My armored spacesuit was tough, but if the whole house fell on me, I could be trapped in the suit and might never be able to dig myself out. Just to be safe, and to save a few moments—which in battle might be badly needed—I preset each grenade for a small explosion.

  I adjusted the strobe light on my helmet, and it flashed all around the basement. As I approached the door, behind which I could hear the scratching, I looked under it, and all around it. No purple light was sneaking out—and the door was not a sealed, bulkhead, or pressure door—so I was fairly confident that if there was some alien illumination coming from back there, I would see it. Unless, the Jellies had figured out a way to mask their presence.

  I had my bullpup in one hand, and with my other hand I reached for the door. Turning the handle, I pushed the door in. A reddish-brown blur rushed past me. I pulled up the bullpup at the last moment, as I recognized that it was a squirrel which was fleeing from that wine cellar.

  “How did a squirrel get in here?” I entered and looked around.

  On the wall, a ventilation grille was loose, and hanging by a single screw. The shaft behind it was small, and the airflow was not moving. I wondered why the circulation was off.

  I toggled my transceiver, “LT? LT? I think this was a false alarm. There was a squirrel in a wine cellar here.”

  “I am getting reports of odd behavior from wildlife and even domestic animals. Animals are invading all kinds of strange places,” the LT replied. “I think something else is happening, and that this is a symptom. We need to look for the cause, and not just these behaviors. What is driving these animals to do this?”

  I was just turning to leave the wine cellar when I heard it.

  Kaaa-vooomph!

  That wine cellar rocked and shook. Bottles bounced out of their neat little holders, and crashed to the floor. Their shattering sounds were drown out by the creaking and groaning of the house itself. I rushed into the basement, and saw that part of the ceiling was collapsing so I darted up the stairs and outside before the whole thing caved-in on itself.

  People were running in the street in a panic.

  Kaaa-vooomph!

  There was a white blur and the building next to me exploded. The top half of it was just splintered into near nothingness. The permalloy frame held up slightly better than did the softer metals like steal and other alloys. So much was blasted away, it looked like a bare skeleton of a house. I glanced back, and the building I had exited had also been hit with some new kind of bomb. The wreckage rained down upon me, and I was unhurt because of my armored spacesuit. Tragically, the people running in the street were not so fortunate. Several of them were killed by the debris crushing them, and others were severely traumatized with multiple broken bones, lacerations, and puncture wounds.

  “Medical emergency!” I called out. “Numerous human casualties! Medical automacubes needed!” I gave my exact location.

  From the transceiver came a mechanical reply, “All medical units have been dispatched. Your need it noted, however, response time is less than ideal.”

  It was some system, an artificial intelligence, or maybe even just a medical automacube, I never did learn which. I rushed around to the injured people and did what little first-aid I could. My limited supplies were soon gone, and still some of the wounded people were lacking. Other people, just general population people, rushed out of their residences and businesses, and rendered aid to the wounded. Without medical equipment, it futile, but it was something.

  “LT? What is happening? Several explosions have hit near me,” I transmitted.

  There was no response.

  “Any troops in Nuwa report your status,” I commanded. I put as much authority into my voice as I could.

  “The is Private Boyer, on the barrier wall. I saw three explosions in the town, but none at the wall. I have been unable to reach that officer from the Blue Tigers.”

  “Boyer, you mean Lieutenant Harpy?”

  “Right, no word from her. The barrier is intact, but this is weird. Who are you?”

  “This is Corporal Kalju. Do you see any Jellie activity?”

  “The wall in my section is intact. Flashers are going.”

  “Maintain position and keep alert. If you see the enemy sound off immediately!” I looked all around at the carnage of that bombed street. I was uncertain how the explosions had happened, but my instincts told me it was the Jellies. Tragically, a number of people died there in the street who would likely have been saved had the medical automacubes been able to reach them.

  “MDF forces in Nuwa report in!” I barked out. My transceiver was set for all links and couplings. I feared Boyer would be the only one who reported back, but then I got seven others who all checked in. They had varied levels of enthusiasm, but reluctantly were telling me what was happening. None had directly seen any Jellie activity, but all had seen some of the explosions from diverse parts of the town. I could not see a pattern in the explosions. None had heard from the LT, or anyone else in command.

  “Soldier? Soldier?” a woman approached me as I tried to use some ripped clothing as a makeshift bandage for a wounded man. “Where do we go?”

  I looked at her. She was terribly frightened. An icy piece of shrapnel had ripped open her arm, but she had a bloody bandage wrapped around it.

  “Anyone who is injured, but can still walk, should head toward the hospital. Report what is happening here, but you should get there to get treatment,” I stated.

  The woman nodded, and other nearby people spread my idea. They started helping each other to walk to the hospital. The stronger people helped the wounded, and some were carried on improvised stretchers. Old, young, men, women, and children all worked together and made a sort-of procession through the streets.

  Most of those who were still alive, departed. Only the dead bodies remained, accompanied by several people who were weeping inconsolably as they hugged their newly killed friends and family members. I saw there was nothing more I co
uld do to assist the townsfolk, so I hustled off toward the hospital. In my armored spacesuit, I could make a better pace, and was soon arriving at the hospital.

  When I saw it, I wished I had not suggested that people go there.

  The hospital had received a direct hit from one of explosives, whatever they were. I was thinking of it as a bombardment. There was nothing left except the permalloy frames, and the ground level flooring. Everything else was a pile of debris. Two white automacubes were working on patients across the street in what had been a garage of some kind. Injured people—at least fifty—were standing outside of that area. Everyone had injuries of one kind of another.

  Then I saw the pile of severely damaged armor. I rushed up turned the corner, and saw who had occupied that armor. A kindly woman with brunette hair and a gentle face was kneeling on the ground. Lieutenant Harpy’s head was in her lap. The woman was softly stroking the LT’s blood-streaked face. The LT’s short hair was matted with blood and part of her head was misshapen, her face was ashen colored, and her lips were purple. Blood oozed from numerous spots on her armor. One of her feet was bare. Her helmet was absent.

  I could hear the woman murmuring soothing words, “Bridget, you have fought the good fight. You have run a good race. You can go to your peace.”

  A slight smile crossed the LT’s face, and some blood ran down from the side of her mouth.

  I knelt down beside them. “Few people call the LT by her first name, right Lieutenant Harpy?”

  Now she smiled a wide smile, but only one side of her mouth came all the way up. I saw several of her once intact and pretty teeth were broken. Her eyes flickered open and one pupil was enormous, the other just normal. “You are in command, Kalju.” Her words were slurred and indistinct.

  “I am no leader,” I replied. “You are the leader here.”

  With a deep breath, she then spoke, “I am nearly dead. I order you to take command.” Her words were stronger, and less slurred. She tried to sit up, reached out, but her arm trembled and she was unable to grasp my suit. “Transceiver?”

  I pulled a cable out of my suit, and routed a microphone to it through my suit’s controls. I handed it to her.

  “Harpy 27-90-RG5. Battlefield appointment to sergeant for Kalju. He is now in command,” the LT’s words were clear and precise. If I had not watched her twisted mouth form those words, I would have never known the anguish it took her to make it sound normal. “Good hunting. Stay strong. Kill the Jellies.”

  “Thanks, LT,” as I spoke, I saw Bartlet in my mind’s eye.

  A mechanical voice replied, “Message from MC001. Alternative vector acknowledged. Voice recognition: Lieutenant Harpy, confirmed. Code accepted. Designated command transferred to Sergeant Kalju.”

  I am not sure if the LT even heard MC001, but I hope she did. The brunette woman laid her head back, and massaged her face tenderly. “Goodbye Bridget. May grace surround you, may comfort be around you, and my eternity be a joy for you.”

  Wiping a tear from my face, I flipped down my faceplate and saw a new set of controls on the pop-up display. I toggled them down to a command level setting, and asked, “MC001? This is Kalju. What is our situation?”

  “Message from MC001. You are to remain in Nuwa and prevent further advances by the enemy. Supplies, weapons, and munitions will be sent as available. Make use of local resources as much as possible. No further information granted.”

  Through my suit, I adjusted the faceplate’s display and activated a town map with symbols for all soldiers. There were now eighteen of us. The LT’s suit was not registering, and I assumed that indicated the eighteen on my display were still alive and active.

  I rummaged through the LT suit, and took the other amvex grenades, and all the ammunition she had. I also too her bullpup since it did have the grenade launcher, and she had been carrying ten of the launch grenades.

  Walking back to the place where the medical automacubes were working, I saw they were extremely busy. Checking the automacube vibration detecting network which the LT had set up, I saw that no places were currently indicating any underground vibrations. So, I headed back toward the barrier wall.

  Over the next three days, we had a few other Red Guard make their way to Nuwa, as well as about another fifty people from the general population. All reported similar stories. The lakes were all polluted with the brown toxins, and flooding. Many buildings and outlying structures were in ruins. Most people came to Nuwa hungry and thirsty. I tried to get them out of the biome, but all three of the egress passages from Nuwa into Queen’s outer shell showed vacuum and decompression behind them. I did try the tube transport hub, but it showed that the tube system was flooded and inoperative. I considered using one of the amvex grenades as a trap there. I planned it in my mind to set the amvex for a large explosion, and connect it with a tripwire. My plan was that if a Jellie should open one of those transport tube hatches, the grenade would detonate. But as I considered that, I was unwilling to risk it. Should other Marathon Defense forces find a way to drain the flooded toxins from that tube system, and then dock a vehicle there, I did not want friendly forces to face an antimatter explosion. So, instead, we set up a motion activated alarm system in that hub, and then welded shut the permalloy bulkhead doors to that hub. Should anything move in there, I would get a visual and audio warning. I considered leaving an amvex in there on a remote detonator, but I only had five, so I did not leave one there. I hoped that the alarm would give us time to respond, but with only about twenty soldiers, we were spread way too thin.

  We were trapped in Nuwa, so I tried to make it a fortress for us.

  I found that none of the water inflow pipes were functioning. We had several full swimming pools in Nuwa, one inside an exercise complex, the other behind an apartment building. I made sure those supplies were secured as best we could, to keep the water. It would need minor water treatment to be drinkable, but that was a small matter. I estimated we had about thirty-five million liters of water that way. With that much supply, I figured our drinking water situation was adequate, but I still made sure everyone understood to not waste water. I assigned a team of the local people to work as dispensers of water. The general population had to walk to get it, and carry it off for use, but that supply was as secure as I could make it.

  Food was also not of an immediate concern. There were stored foods in Nuwa, and I advised everyone to take an accounting of what was available. I knew some people were hording food, but that was a minor issue. Most welcomed the stragglers into the town and were eager to hear what news those people carried.

  On the fourth night, I noticed something important. There was an increase in underground vibrations, picked up by our monitors, just before the bombardments resumed.

  Kaaa-vooomph!

  “Kalju! We have an explosion on a house by my sector!” one of the Red Guard reported. He was nearly in a panic. “Kalju, the roof is gone!” Most all of the Red Guard refused to use my rank, but they did report to me, mostly. They also did listen to, and follow, most of my commands, although they called them suggestions.

  “Lights on!” I sent out the command to all the soldiers. Then I switched back to the private channel to address that Red Guard, “Is anyone hurt? One of our two medical automacubes can be dispatched, if there are wounded.”

  “No injuries. That house was unoccupied,” the Red Guard reported back. “The roof is just gone. The strobes are going. No other sightings.”

  Kaaa-vooomph!

  Another explosion took place, but this time there were some minor injuries as the bombardment struck into a roadway and the icy splinters flew through a wall and hurt a family inside. I sent the automacube there. I only had one to dispatch, because the other needed to stay and tend to the wounded people in our improvised clinic.

  From then on out, the town of Nuwa, and the people who had taken refuge there, were subject to bombardment. It was not every single evening, but it was the vast majority of them. Evenings were the worst, bu
t a bombardment could come at any time of the day. It did follow a pattern, and that had to do with the monitoring of the underground vibrations. Those would happen, and often—not every time—the explosions would take place within a short while.

  On the tenth night, we caught sight of Jellies in the woods along the end wall of the biome. One of the Red Guard called to me, and I hustled up there to see for myself.

  “Kalju, that purple light off in the woods just showed up. I cannot make out exactly what is out there.”

  “It is a Jellie, but obscured by the trees,” I answered. Checking my bullpup’s grenade launcher, I sighted in on the range finder. “Nine hundred meters out, so beyond the grenades, and the bullpup’s not going to make a difference from here.” I did not tell the Red Guard that the bullpup made little difference even up close.