Battle On The Marathon

by John Thornton

  “Everyone get out!”

  That was the last thing I heard during that battle in the hanger bay.

  As I relate that battle, I guess toward the end of it, I was raving and hallucinating. Well, I wish I could tell you how I ended up in the Bread biome, but all that is just a blur of confused and strange images.

  The next truly coherent memory I have is waking up to a mechanical voice, “Good morning. I am Doctor 328. How are you feeling?”

  I looked over and saw a medical automacube sitting on its six drive wheels right next to me. Its multi-jointed arm was holding a self-filtering squeeze bottle of water up to my lips. I took a sip of the cool and refreshing water, and looked around. I was on a medical treatment table, and my right arm was surrounded by a stasis field.

  Swallowing the water and taking another sip I asked a really awesome question, “Where am I?”

  “Sergeant Kalju, you are in Bransdale Medical Clinic, in the biome of Bread. You were severely injured in battle. Do you not remember this? We have had this conversation several times over the last few days.”

  “Seems like the first time to me,” I replied, but then my mind did have shadows of images and recollections of something like that. Perhaps they were real memories or déjà vu or a dream. So, I said, “How long have I been here?”

  A different voice came on, and it was from over the top of the medical treatment table. “I am AI Vaska the medical overseer of this clinic. Before you ask, let me just inform you again that I cannot access medical or military records to search for your lost friends. The lattice of compeers is not functional, and I am limited to my patients and those who have recently visited this clinic. I am unable to secure any links or couplings to Kansas, or any other habitat, so I am unable to arrange communication between you and your family. I am also unaware of how the battle against the Jellies is progressing, so to save time, please refrain from asking about those issues. I apologize if this is brusque, but I have other patients to attend to, and we have covered this several times already. I will, however, now answer your next question which is regarding your health status. You were severely injured by an energy blast. Your right arm was destroyed, but has been regenerated. It is currently eighty percent functional and will reach the restoration point in about twenty hours. You have been here for eighteen days, during much of which you were heavily sedated due to the arm injury, and your multiple secondary injuries. All the secondary injuries have been healed. You have an excellent prognosis for a full physical recovery. Psychological, emotional, and spiritual issues will need to be addressed at future sessions and treatment periods.”

  I wiggled my fingers on my right hand, and while they felt weak, they did move adequately. When I tried to pinch my index finger to my thumb, I missed, and there was a bit of a hesitation in my muscles.

  AI Vaska went on, “You will experience some lack of coordination in your new appendage until restoration is complete. Therapy is progressing as expected. Please cooperate with Doctor 328 for future care.”

  The automacube then addressed me again, “I do have a transceiver here and an ongoing order to connect you to your commanding officer when I feel it would be beneficial. I believe you should attempt that now. Do you feel up to speaking to your commander?”

  “Yes, please!” I responded, but then I wondered which officer that would be. “Unless it is Adams, or Gehlen, or Caldwell.”

  “Establishing link to Senior Lieutenant Gonzales,” the white automacube stated.

  A display screen appeared on the far wall. “Sergeant Kalju, it is about time. I am pleased you are better.” Gonzales was in fatigues, but her reactive armor was hanging right behind her.

  “How is it going?” I mumbled, still somewhat in shock at the news I was hearing. Then I remembered something important. “Lieutenant, please thank whoever carried me out of that hanger bay.”

  “Already done, Kalju. That was a kitty and goat rodeo of constipation if I ever saw one. We lost far too many good people in there, and I am thankful to still have my sergeant. Now, I will come and get…”

  “Lieutenant, how many soldiers are dead?”

  “Kalju, we lost one hundred seventy-seven killed, another ninety-one wounded, some permanently, and fourteen that are uncounted for. Those fourteen do not show up on biometric tracking anywhere on the Marathon. I assume they were lost in space, since we are unable to scan out there for them, but it is possible they were taken prisoners. The AI Vaska tells me you and forty-nine others will be ready to go by day after tomorrow.”

  “How could that be? We had the Jellies beat. I saw at least two of them die, and there were only two more in the hanger bay,” I was flabbergasted at the losses.

  “We had those four cornered, and except for your stunt with the MDF-A1, which is now unofficially called the enpol, we were holding our own pretty stinking well. Then, we got galloped from outside. The Jellie spacecraft opened us up like a jar of fruit preservatives. Let me show you,” she switched something and my display showed a visual recording. “This is from an approach aperture camera just outside that hanger bay. I have filtered out some of the Jellie’s purple glow.”

  The video showed an elongated lozenge shaped blob of purple—the Jellie spacecraft—as it approached into view. Its outline was fuzzy and indistinct. I could see the hanger bay’s exterior doors, one side of which was buckled and unclosed. Behind those were the emergency containment curtain. The Jellie spaceship unleased a strange pink beam of something. Not a typical laser or particle beam, but something else. It sliced through the remains of the hanger bay doors, and carved open the emergency containment curtain. Explosive decompression took place, and I saw soldiers in reactive armor flung into space, along with four Jellie carapace globes. Two of them were still glowing and those were absorbed into the Jellie spacecraft. It then zipped away quickly.

  “So, we are down to what, eighty some soldiers?” I asked.

  “Eight-eight combat veterans in our Bilokos, when the last of you wounded warriors rejoin us. We lost both Senior Lieutenant Begay and Sharma. I am now our Senior Lieutenant, but we have no officer replacements. You, Kalju, are our only sergeant.”

  “Did the shuttle get away?” I asked.

  “Colonel Hayyon survived, but none of those wounded made it. That Jellie spacecraft used the pink destruction beam on the shuttle and blew open its passenger compartment. The Colonel made an emergency docking to an exterior repair station, and got inside, barely, and only because the shuttle’s cabin could seal itself off from the passengers. The shuttle is a complete loss.”

  “So, what now?” I asked. It was a lot to take in.

  “Kalju, you sleep one more night there, I will come and get you tomorrow and the next day we get the other recovered soldiers out of that clinic. Then we make a plan to fight back. Today, you rest a bit more. I am counting on my sergeant to be at full strength as soon as possible.”

  “Lieutenant? We lost a lot of people, but also a bunch of our automacubes. How will we finish the mission without all our equipment? I only have this.” I pulled at the thin material which made up my sleeping garments.

  “The Jellies have stayed away from the gravitational top of this habitat. Roughly they own everything from ground level and below. We own the top and the biome. The shell is a wasteland. I think it is because the Jellies prefer fluid-type environments as opposed to the gaseous ones. That is only a guess. With the GAGS at various places, up and down is sort-of irrelevant. However, we have kept Reproduction and Fabrication running here in Bread. Weapons and armor are being replaced. You even contributed to that.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your use of the enpol, with its muzzle blocked by the Jellie, revealed a design flaw. The new generation, the MDF-A2 has a safety which prevents it from discharging if anything substantial is blocking the muzzle for a distance of one meter. Too bad you had to give a hand and part of your arm to find that out,” she replied with a genuine smile. “But do not try to change the nickname. E
veryone is calling them enpols now, so we are stuck with that. The original versions are being traded in for the new ones. Those old models are being refitted and returned to us.”

  “Lieutenant? Is there any word on my friends or family?”

  “Not really. Last I heard, Kansas was intact, but that was days ago. I honestly am not sure what is happening. MC001 and IAM Lenore ignore my requests. Bread is a mess, most of the water here is contaminated, and it takes repeated filtering to make it potable, not portable, but drinkable. The biome will not be getting rain for some time, as the filters are not adequate for that wide a scale filtering and cleaning. So, our situation is grim.”

  “Lieutenant Gonzales? What is the plan?”

  “In two days, our team, the Bilokos will do one errand and then will join Bread’s MDF forces. Together, the combined force will fight our way down a constituent joint to rejoin the main MDF forces in the needle ship. You will like the MDF forces here, they call themselves the Bakers. Bakers in Bread, sort of a joke, but they are fiendishly good fighters. They are a far cry from the Red Guard. Bakers are good troopers. Now you rest. See you tomorrow.”

  As the Lieutenant shut down the link, I had a slew of other questions. If the fighting forces were leaving Bread, what would happen to the general population which lived here? Were there roughly the same number of residents in Bread as in the other habitats? We were moving the repositories?

  I suppose Doctor 328 gave me some analgesics, sedation, or something, for I fell asleep again. When I awoke, early the next morning, I recalled the prior conversations and the discharge plans. I suppose I was healing. Unfortunately, I had other visitors I wished to never see again. They were not actually in my room with me, but came visiting through the display and my transceiver.

  “Sergeant Kalju? This is Colonel Caldwell,” her phony smile was plastered on her face yet again. “I am so happy you are recovered enough to assist. I need your help.”

  “What do you want? I know you are not here in Bread. That proves there are connections which can be made from my position to some other locality. Where are you? Why do you get to make connections, but I am not? I want to talk to my parents or family in Kansas.”

  “I am certain you do. A perfectly reasonable request, yes, it is. Oh, yes, that is very understandable. You have suffered more traumatic events, and family is very important,” she dabbed an eye as if a tear would actually appear there. “Unfortunately, I cannot make a connect to them for you.”

  “Big surprise, you refuse to help me again. Just what I expected,” I snapped back. I should have been more diplomatic, but I was angry.

  “I know this has been terribly upsetting to you. It has been to all of us. War is hard, yes it certainly is. Each battle is a personal affront to one’s dignity. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I cannot make any connections for you. However, your help in needed in evaluation of the sonic weapon which our enemy used against you. Please answer the following questions about your experiences with that sonic weapon.”

  My interest was piqued so I did answer all her questions. I got no answers myself, but I did cooperate. She finished that interview with some platitude of wishing me a swift recovery and safety in future battles. I honestly am not sure if I said, “You can join me in battle. There is always room for more cannon fodder.” I think I did, but maybe I just wished I had said that.

  Later, I went through a similar rigmarole with Colonel Gehlen about that same sonic weapon. The display came on, and he just began speaking at me. His pasty-white face and emotionless, pale gray eyes looked even more pathetic than before. The questions he asked were more technical than those asked by Colonel Caldwell, but I cooperated. He was less than courteous when I asked about contacting my family, or if he had information about my missing friends. His only response to those questions was, “That topic has been addressed, and you are well aware of the limitations in communication. There is nothing new to report.” I had expected nothing less. He was not openly hostile toward me, so maybe that was enough.

  At the very end of that interrogation, Colonel Gehlen did ask me an unexpected question. “Sergeant Kalju, what are your impressions and thoughts about Sylvia Ledbetter and Earle Delevane?”

  I was confident that I had covered all that with him before, and I did not like thinking about those oceanographers from that mission where my friends died. I snapped a reply with as much sarcasm as I could pour into my words, “That topic has been addressed. There is nothing new to report.” Then I added, “They are oceanographers who my friends died saving. It better have been worth it.”

  “Sergeant Kalju, I assure you it was,” Colonel Gehlen answered cryptically and shut down the connection.

  At lunchtime, Doctor 328 removed the stasis field from my arm, and I could eat with both hands. My new arm looked unusual, and not like what I remembered. Sure, it was a normal looking human arm, but there was a marked coloration change where the new limb had been regenerated. Its skin pigmentation, my new arm’s pigmentation, was not an exact match to the rest of my body. Nevertheless, it functioned. Oddly enough it was completely hairless and that felt strange. I caught myself rubbing the scar in my eyebrow several times. Life can be measured out by the roadmap of scars one’s body carries.

  In midafternoon, Senior Lieutenant Gonzales arrived, this time in person.

  “Sergeant, I have a set of gear for your use. AI Vaska says you are free to go. Tomorrow morning the last of our soldiers who are going to recover enough to join the battle will be ready. So, this evening you and I need to plan our tactics and strategy.”

  Moving out from the clinic was odd. I felt abandoned, and my new arm was still strange looking and feel different. Oh, sure, it functioned just like before, but there was a distinct lack of muscle-memory, if I can call it that. Everything I did with that hand felt new, even though the motions were well practiced with my old hand and arm. So, when I dressed, my handed worked well, but it felt like I was doing it for the first time. I guess, maybe that does not make much sense, and I doubt anyone who had not had a new limb forcefully regenerated in a short span of time can understand. I was tempted—for a moment of two—to go and ask AI Vaska about it. Regenerating limbs was not a typical procedure known in Kansas. At that moment, my prior life in Kansas seemed to be so long ago and so far away. Life in Kansas had been so much better than it was that day I was discharged from the clinic in Bread.

  “Sergeant, you and I will be responsible for getting the Bilokos to complete this mission. The whole details will be in your new reactive armor, which is arriving in the morning. Basically, the MDF forces here in Bread, the Bakers—nice idiom, right? Well, they will be rounding up and escorting all the inhabitants of Bread to evacuation centers. The people know this is coming and are working together. Our job, is to deliver a package to the bow end of this biome, drop it in the river there, and then meet up with the Bakers as they fight their way to the needle ship.”

  “That sounds easy enough,” I replied. “But what are we delivering, and why?”

  Lieutenant Gonzales answered, “The Jellies have control of virtually all the water beneath the ground. They have also been seen in the lakes and river here in Bread. They have poisoned the water in the aquafer, the reservoir, and the pumps. That toxic water is killing the biome. So, the new mission is to take detergent enzymes to the bow end of the biome, dump them into the river, and then we get out. That detergent carries catalytic enzymes which will attack the Jellie’s gunk in the water. They actually attack the physical composition of the Jellies’ carapaces as well. Something about a molecular target on the alien organic materials. I was told these detergents have been in development for over ten years, and they should work to drive out the Jellies, and then restore the water to purity. The location for our dump is right over where the water drops down into the recycling chambers which lead to the reservoir and beneath that into the sublevel aquafer.”

  “So, we are hitting the Jellies with some kind of bio-chemical weapons, spread vi
a the water?” I asked. The surprise and dubious support must have been in my voice.

  “I am told the best and brightest on the Marathon designed these enzymatic detergents. They break down the alien materials, and that works as a purifier for the water. We still have control of the rain systems, so only when the detergents are in the system will it rain again in Bread’s biome. The rain will soak into ground, and the hydrologic cycle will spread the detergents to all aspects of the biome.”

  “How long will this process take to complete?” I was starting to see some major problems in the plan.

  “As usual, Kalju, you understand, and cut right to the point. Bravo. Best guess from what I was told is that it will take five years for the detergents to work completely through the biome. During that span, it is expected that the toxic Jellie water will have killed every living thing in here. But, once the hydrologic cycle is purified, then massive microorganism restoration can be started, and after that, restocking of the biome. Everything necessary to restock Bread is available in storage; soil microorganisms, soil biota, soil fauna, edaphon participates, all that stuff. All the organics—saved from old-earth—will be stocked to rebuild Bread. Everything, like earthworms, nematodes, protozoa, fungi, bacteria and different arthropods. The decomposition of organic matter will need several more years to establish a solid base to build upon, but soil fertility, plant growth, flora and fauna, all depend on the basic foundation of clean, and recyclable water. The detergents will be the first step in doing that.”