by John Mierau
Marcus sat back in his chair. No scientists, only the one lord, and an ambassador to the United States to see their mission through. With Lieutenant-Colonel Merrie filling Colonel Barton’s shoes, to complete the mess.
He rubbed his face. He had no use for any politician, but perhaps an American voice at the top would improve their odds. They’d done a good job when the British wanted to conquer them in the New World, hadn’t they?
He turned to watch Lieutenants Burns and Jonas gather the soldiers gather before Merrie, who climbed atop another pedestal to address them.
“We’ve had word back from Folkestone: some have fallen, but many of our comrades are safely away on sky-ships. When the pirate chased us in their mother-ship, they lost their opportunity to take hostages fleeing the Mouse-hole!”
Another small cheer came from the men, but Merrie talked louder over top of it. “We’ll return, and we’ll make them answer for Folkestone harbor!” The ragged cheers died in the soldier’s throats.
Marcus felt a lump form in his own, and he begrudgingly nodded to Merrie during the man’s sombre pause.
“For now, that ship is still coming.” The Lieutenant-Colonel scowled in Marcus and the Doctor’s direction. “What’s more, the pirates knew the layout of Midway. It seems clear, from following their tracks, capturing our Doctor Grace was their objective.”
“Of course it was, old chap!” Graced winked at Marcus and shouted: “The blighters can’t goose their toys fast enough without me!”
Merrie reddened, but soldiered on. “The pirates have tipped their hand, showing us their ship. Unfortunately, they’ve also now seen ours. The civilian there,” he pointed at Hobe, “has pinned an eye on the pirate ship, and it’s not given up. It’s following us.”
“Ha! Like a tortoise follows a hare!” Hobe shouted, not turning his head from the light pool. “That bucket won’t worry us!”
Until we turn around and head home, Marcus couldn’t help but think.
“Yes, thank you, Mr. Martin!” Merrie bellowed.
Hobe waved a hand back through the air, shushing the soldier.
True to form, Hobe! Despite his body’s own shivering after all the action, Marcus had to hide a grin, listening to his engineer baiting the Lieutenant-Colonel, who tugged roughly on his coat and continued.
“While we have only stocked a small part of the supplies for this project, by Lieutenant Jonas’s head count, we are less than fifty aboard, and have several weeks’ rations and water for that number.”
“Plenty of other things to kill us yet,” Doctor Grace whispered to Marcus with a grin and a wink.
Marcus was unable to return either. What was it the Doctor had said about the black above the sky? It turned colder than the arctic, and there was no air to breath in that outer space.
And you thought journeying in sky-ships was odd, Marcus.
“We have what we need, men,” Merrie said, his voice booming loud and deep. Marcus watched the officer’s eyes travel to every face watching him, and felt a little thrill of anticipation. Grudgingly, he admitted Merrie knew how to rouse the spirit.
“We have what we need, and we know what we need to do. We’ll give the Invaders a taste of their own…and we will end the Blitz!” He pumped a fist in the air. “God Save the Queen!”
The soldiers roared the rallying cry back.
Dr. Grace’s eyeballs bulged in mock surprise. “Cor’, blimey!” he intoned, then rolled his head lazily to Lieutenant-Colonel Merrie, as he walked stiffly up to their bubble, accepting salutes and greetings from the men as he approached. “I’ll take a tea with two lumps, please!”
“Get your own bloody tea!” Lieutenant-Colonel Merrie spat back. Then, to Marcus’s amazement, Merrie continued: “Jonas tells me you’re the one who put the harbor gun back in working order.”
Marcus saw the ruddy-faced Lieutenant climb into the next bubble, and wave his hands through the station’s light pool to life. The Lieutenant looked up at that moment to meet his eyes.
The lieutenant quickly returned his attention to his task. Marcus looked back to Merrie and nodded warily, The threats of hanging the Lieutenant-Colonel had made on their first meeting still fresh in his mind.
Merrie coughed into his fist. “A cool head, that called for, with the Pirates chewing the rock up around you.” His nose wrinkled, and Marcus could see the man wasn’t pleased, having to acknowledge Marcus’s deeds.
“He also tells me Grace here owes you his life, which means everyone here does, and so…” The Lieutenant-Colonel swallowed hard. “…Thank you, Captain Riggs. I am in your debt…sir.” The last word broke on his lips, and Merrie turned quickly to leave, his face red. He paused a moment longer, though did not again meet Marcus’s eyes.
“I’ll see to it you get rooms to enjoy your tea in,” he allowed, less harshly, “after I report our status to Lord Timbury.” With that final courtesy, Merrie turned and fled, stiff of back and stony of face.
Doctor Grace collapsed back in his seat. His eyes were wide, and faux shock played on his face. “Will wonders ever cease!”
Marcus watched the man leave. “Apparently no—” He jerked straight, his eyes widening. He replayed each second of his journey through Midway in his head.
The image in the gigantic pool of light wavered, as Hobe smoothly swung the view from what was chasing them to where they were going.
“Is… is that?…” a familiar voice asked, then swallowed loudly.
Marcus could not pull himself from his thoughts, and left it to Dr. Grace to greet Lieutenant Burns. “It is,” the Doctor preened.
“You might want to shut your mouth, dear,” Grace teased the soldier. “You’ll let in flies.”
“Doctor!” Marcus said, cutting him off. Grace put a hand to his chest, misinterpreting the concern in his voice. He carried on his pantomime: with a nod of his head towards Lieutenant Burns he mouthed “Gorgeous!”
Owen Burns pointed at the white shape glowing in the pool. “And we’re… going….there?”
“Grab a chair, lieutenant,” Grace said sweetly, patting the empty third seat in the pedestal. “It’s going to be a long trip, you might as well get comfy.”
“A strange day,” Burns said in a dazed voice. He slapped his palm on the top of the pedestal. “Gentleman, I wonder if you gentleman would do me the honor of dining with me this evening?”
Marcus still didn’t answer. Dr. Grace grinned, and patted the lieutenant’s hand.
“We’d be delighted.”
Hobe sauntered over. “Delighted about what, Doc?”
“It appears you’ve finally been invited to dine with an officer.”
Hobe nodded to Burns. “About time.”
“Oh, Lieutenant, whatever shall I wear?” Grace cooed.
Marcus jerked out of his chair. The look on his face cut through Grace’s play-acting, and draw the color from his face. “Marcus, what?”
Marcus leaped over the side of the bubble and landed on the floor beside Lieutenant Burns, the slap of his soles echoing. “Did you tell Jonas!” he whispered.
“Tell him what?”
Marcus grabbed the Lieutenant’s arm and squeezed. “About the gun! Did you tell him I found the wires cut on the gun!”
Eyebrows knit together in confusion, Owen shook his head. “There was no time-“
Marcus burst into a flat-out run for the next bubble. The one where Lieutenant Jonas sat, tapping expertly through a series of light-projected screens.
Lieutenant Jonas, who had never trained in the labs of Midway.
Lieutenant Jonas, whose lips had curled in anger when Marcus had protected Doctor Grace from the pirates.
Lieutenant Jonas, who couldn’t have known the harbor guns had been sabotaged…unless he’d had a hand in the sabotage himself.
Marcus thought of all the souls gone to their rest in the harbor. He let the rage bleed out, and feed his body’s charge.
The bright lights of the bridge flickered. Another klaxon bega
n to wail.
Marcus was almost to the bubble when thin, multi-colored beams of lights began to paint the bodies of soldiers all around. He leaped up onto the bubble, raising his legs high to vault into the bubble where Lieutenant Jonas sat.
Where Jonas now thrust the muzzle of an Invader pistol into his face.
The pistol fired. Marcus had not landed yet and the blast missed his face, but he felt everything beneath his left shoulder go numb. he fell in a heap in the empty chair beside Jonas, who was on his feet now, eyes darting to the light pool and back to Marcus. His lips formed a sadistic snarl and he raised the gun again.
Marcus’s body spasmed as messages of pain reached his brain. Jonas reached behind him, his hand reaching blindly for the light pool where just one button glowed.
The button, Marcus knew, that would kill every man in the room.
Jonas nodded, licking his lips gleefully when he saw Marcus understood.
“Too late, fuzzy!”
A gun barked. A red dot appeared on Jonas’s forehead. The man froze in place, his eyes dull, unfocused… and then he fell back.
Towards the light pool.
Marcus clawed one hand forward. He grabbed the man’s tunic and pulled. He grunted in pain, lost his grip—but it was enough. Jonas slumped back in his chair, dead. His hand never reached into the light pool.
The targeting lights still tracked each man as they moved through the room, but death did not rain down.
Marcus turned his head and rested it on the bubble.
He saw Burns, arm outstretched, his pistol still at the ready, a curl of smoke drifting from the barrel.
#
Marcus looked at the Earth. He smiled in awe at the white clouds swirling above the blue seas and the greens and browns of the continents. Actually his smile and awe was a combination of the wonder of staring down at his world, and also the powerful action of the white powder Doctor Grace had mixed in a tin cupful of rum.
Doctor Grace had disarmed the sentry systems and shooed every soldier he didn’t personally know away from the control systems during the time the mixture took effect. Marcus didn’t have a clue how long he’d been sitting in the bubble’s chair, staring at the planet Earth, or how long it had been since the good Doctor had returned to sit beside him.
“Whatever will you do for your next trick, Marcus?” Grace asked.
“Are we going to die out here?” he slurred.
The Doctor shook his head. “I think not. Especially now Merrie’s let me lock the controls and pick who gets to do the flying.”
Marcus lolled his head to the left. There was Hobe, grinning and sticking the fingers of both hands through the light pool before his own chair.
“Don’t mangle her sails,” Marcus made his thick tongue say.
Hobe laughed. “Where’s the fun in that? I might pretend to thought, if I get to put the fear into Burns again.”
Marcus tried to frown. His lips weren’t working well enough though. He gave up trying. “Burns isn’t here?”
Hobe laughed. “Oh he’s here. Safe bet he just got himself promoted, though.”
Somewhere in the room, Owen’s booming voice was peeling paint from the walls.
“Oh, good,” Marcus said, and his eyes closed.
#
When he woke, the bridge was bathed in white light emanating from the enormous light pool in the center of the room. Marcus still felt lighter than air, although his shoulder was starting to ache a little. He heard Doctor Grace humming in the seat beside him, and asked was seemed the most sensible question he could muster.
“Why do you call it ‘Selene?’”
Doctor Grace had lain back in the third chair, and begun working the knuckles of one hand with the other. “Hm?” he asked, and finally looked at Marcus. “Welcome back. Why ‘Selene’? Well, I do so love the greeks,” he crooned.
Marcus, unbothered after months living with the Doctor’s ribald ways, gave the man a hard stare. Or tried to.
“No, it’s really down to them,” Grace laughed. “That’s what the greeks called Her.”
Marcus looked back to the light pool, leaning back against the headrest and smiling. We’ll be the first men there, he thought with a thrill.
Over the months, Marcus and the good Doctor had shared whiskey, and confessed their fears. Doctor Grace wondered if the lnvaders would pound the world until the human race was extinct, or just long enough to find a way to safely return and complete their conquest?
Or perhaps they had died off completely, Marcus had asked in return, and it was simply their mindless and terrible machines which battered the helpless Earth.
What answers lay across this ocean of black, he wondered.
Halifax. Samantha. Robert.
“I’ll come back,” Marcus swore under his breath. “I’ll find you.”
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Grace sighed, not having heard Marcus’s oath. Twin spots of white danced in his eyes.
Silver and white flooded the deck, now, overwhelming the strange glow of alien metals and thinning the shadows.
Shadows, Marcus thought, where traitors may still lay in wait.
Still, he couldn’t help but be lost in her beauty. He’d never seen the sailor’s friend loom so large.
She had seen him through ocean storms in the depth of night. She had watched him laugh and chase Samantha through the night. Marcus had to believe she could steer him safely home again.
“We’re coming, my lovely,” Dr. Grace called out lovingly.
Marcus stared in fascination at the dark craters, and shaded mountains marring her bright beauty. “We’re coming,” he echoed in wonder.
Next stop, the moon.
