MILDRATAWA

by Nigel Clayton

  The trip was slow and tedious but concentration maintained on all things around them. Some of the corners negotiated en route bent sharply, with razor-like rock edges sticking out on all angles. A few scrapes along the hull brought them back to reality and wide-eyed consciousness when their minds happened to drift.

  The three men were at the site of the three mini subs inside of three hours. The current wasn’t as strong now as what it had been earlier on in the day, but the larger one-man submersible had slowed their progress. Julius remained hovering in a stationary position with the water jets of thrust automatically maintaining his position. The other sub passed his left and sank to the rocky channel floor.

  They had now gathered together their equipment, and removed the remote skimmer and wetsuit of bait from its compartment. The small skimmer was switched on and sent up towards the bars with Neil in control, Marcus close behind; Julius followed as far as possible within the confines of his vessel, until the scrape after scrape along the channel’s walls dictated he should stop. He could have pushed further, but that wasn’t necessary.

  Once at the bars, a final check was carried out to ensure that all was secure. The dummy was remarkably human. A short wave camera was mounted securely on the nose of the remote and the sonar monitor linked to Neil’s module was in good working order.

  Julius had the only verbal link to John and gave a radio check every five minutes, relaying the acknowledgments of the two divers, now at the bars, back to the Nemo. Marcus and Neil held onto the bars of the channel, just out of sight of Julius. The only visual Julius had with the others was that of the blotted in outlines on the sonar display, this sat to his front.

  The remote was soon under way.

  Patience was a certain virtue and close friend at times like this. Thirty minutes had passed and 1.5 kilometres covered. “I want you to keep the remote doing large circles where it is Marcus. It’s in the same area as per Dave’s last contact,” said Neil.

  Time continued to slip by, the instrumentation on the remote showing nothing. Another thirty minutes dragged by and Marcus checked his watch. “I hate to say this, but I don’t think it’s working, Neil.”

  He contemplated the situation before speaking. “Another twenty minutes and I’ll see what John wants us to do; if all— wait.”

  “What is it?”

  “Something over there.” Marcus pointed out through the bars towards a shark in the distance as another came in from the side, hidden by the rock formation, removing his arm from the elbow down.

  Blood oozed from the wound and salt water attacked the bare flesh. “Uurghg!” His eyes lifted, revealing more ominous figures of dashing death as spittle wept from his mouth like a baby’s vomit.

  Neil spat into the helmet comm. “Get your lights on high beam Julius! Now! And get your craft in closer!” He fired his spear gun, it piercing the skull of a tiger shark right between the eyes. Neil grabbed Marcus by the tank and assisted him back. “Get your weapons ready for firing, Julius.”

  More sharks approached up to and through the bars where the dead tiger now lay, some of the larger sharks thrashing wildly to force their way through the huge metal rods embedded in rock. Slowly but surely they approached and teased the men. The sweat built up on Neil’s forehead. Twenty metres more: “Come on, Julius, help me.”

  A shark opened its jaws of strength and slowly brought the kicking feet of Neil into its mouth. “Uuuurrrghg.” It persisted, taking a little more from his limbs as they kicked out at the jaws of the monster. Another came in from the side, three hundred razor sharp teeth puncturing into Neil’s intestines, ripping a hole along the entire side of his body. Blood spilled from his mouth and filled the spacious helmet. That was Neil’s last action, but his muscles contracted to grab Marcus, his clenched fist now taking Marcus down with him. Marcus wrestled to get free. Four sharks were upon him within seconds.

  Julius now saw easily to his front as he closed the gap, with more scrapes of rock tearing at the sub. He hit the reverse just in

  the nick of time and skilfully removed the safety cap to his weapons control, letting loose with accurate fire. Many sharks fell as laser beams hit the shark and those that missed, continuing off and into the lake beyond.

  Julius blurted out as he continued his firing. “Shark penetration of the channel, must be at least twenty, and the numbers growing, both other members are dead.”

  His unsteady and tripping voice was calm but shocked. “Take it easy, Julius, you’re safe in the sub, just stay calm and slow down a bit.

  “Okay, okay.” A heavy breath and sigh steadied his mind. “I’ll try.”

  “Take a few more breaths, man. Breathe slowly.”

  “Yeah, okay; I’m fine.”

  “What do you see, Julius?”

  “Lots of sharks, they’re all around me now.”

  “Okay; listen to me, Julius. We need a sample. You’re safe enough where you are. Now use your harpoon, shoot and drag a shark to within range, and then drape the claw from under the carriage to pick him up. Do you understand, Julius? We need a specimen – or two.”

  “Yeah, sure. I’m going to sign off for a while; is that alright?”

  “That’s fine, Julius. Just make sure you get back to us in a few minutes.” John lifted his finger from the button of the mike that sat on the panel. He looked at the others, all concerned. “This couldn’t possibly be worth the loss of eight men. I just hope that Julius can get back with a sample.”

  “What do you expect to find?” Brad sat back with his hands cupped in his lap, shifting his head slowly, looking down as if in prayer.

  “I don’t know.” John directed his attention to Nakatumi. “Can you carry out an autopsy on a fish?”

  “I don’t know what you expect to find.”

  “But can you do it?”

  “I don’t see why not. I’ll go and see what I can dig up in the library. I don’t give guarantees; the anatomical structure of such a creature is slightly out of my league, but I’ll certainly do what I can.”

  “That’s great. Brad.”

  “Yes, John.”

  “Julius shouldn’t be any more than three and a half hours. Go and give the captain the coordinates for our next stop.”

  “If he asks any questions?”

  “No comment.”

  “Understood.” The door was closed behind him and John sat in quiet contemplation. He fingered the controls and checked with Julius one final time – two sharks had been secured. John thought heavily now on the day’s work. Eight men had just died, good men. What was to follow was anyone’s guess.

  PLANET BASBI TRIAD.

  BRIGHTSIDE.

  Back on Basbi Triad, the external representatives to the House of Suudeem watched with interest as they were shown the chemical and atomic make-up of the fuel which was to be used by the Brightside in its breaking of the lines on the Twilight Zone.

  Years of work now lay in front of them all, a complex array of abbreviations and mathematical equations, from a written text into a working machine. A simple diagram put both the Glaucunian and Erulstinan’s minds to rest.

  Muamsimpa prepared himself to explain the fuel by clearing his throat. On doing so a member of his scientific group rushed into the small room. “Muamsimpa!” he saw Muutampai, the head of House, out of the corner of his eye. “Oh, please excuse me, my lord, but we have just been given some startling news.”

  “And may we ask what the news is?” Muutampai remained calm, a false smile and gaze of confidence conveyed.

  “Please take a seat, my lord.” He took a deep breath. “The House of Suudeem; it no longer exists, my lord.”

  “What are you talking about, Basbi? Collect your thoughts. Sit.” He himself also pulled a seat from the edge of the room, in order that his eyes would not be looking down upon the bearer of bad news. All representatives waited.

  “It has been ionised by a flash of brilliant blue light, my lord.”

  Muutampai’s facial expression,
one of puzzlement, grew to a frown. He looked up. “My God! The Darkside have found a secure passage to our House.”

  “Well, yes, my lord; in a way; but it is not the Darkside who have threatened the House directly.”

  “Then who’s responsible?” Muutampai stood and paced around to the rear of the scientists. On realising that his composure was one of a deep frown and fierce look he calmed himself, placing a palm onto the scientist’s shoulder. “Who has done this to our House? Who? Who would be so idiotic? Not terrorists or sympathisers, surely?”

  “No, my lord.” The scientist took another breath before answering. Looking around he realised that all were keen to know the prolonged answer. “The Equatians are responsible. They are the ones who have brought destruction to our planet; for their own gain.”

  Bob Neil questioned the scientist before another had the chance: “How do you know it was the Equatians?”

  “Scrap from a cargo bay was excreted and is at this very moment circling the planet. We should be able to confirm such a sighting soon; it is expected to crash to the surface very shortly. Its signature is that of Equatia origin.”

  “That won’t be necessary.” The Vertons held no thought back. They always said what they thought and as they pleased, opinionated at all times, and unconcerned as to what others may say, always open to ridicule others. “How can you wait, Muutampai? You saw how that Equatian diplomat departed earlier. How convenient it was for him to simply slip away without concern. The creature was a spy, most definitely.”

  “Let’s not jump to too many conclusions just yet,” Muutampai pointed out.

  “Forgive me, my lord, but that’s not all.”

  Muutampai frowned again and showed even more concern. “What more could there be? Nothing outweighs this news, surely. Speak!”

  “Great One; the defences of Sector Three have also been hit by the same light. Sector Three has now fallen to the Darkside. They have advanced three times further over our border than what they were ever capable of before.”

  Muamsimpa immediately came to the only conclusion possible. “The swine have manufactured a fuel; but our scanners of ultra-infra-red picked up nothing.”

  The Verton spoke: “How often are these scanners put into operation?” The Verton looked the assistant down as he directed his question, but he did not answer it.

  Once again Muamsimpa came to his friend’s defence. “Constantly. But a different sector each time. It takes a good fourteen hours to scan the entire planet,” and then he understood. It was his fault entirely. He personally was to blame. “I’ve failed in one of my tasks. I was warned of my lack in equipment. I had the money in defence tax but gave it no thought. Please; forgive me Muutampai, this was my sole responsibility.”

  “You don’t need to ask for forgiveness.” Muutampai assured the great scientist and patriotic friend.

  “You people are too soft. Kill him at once – for being inexcusable!” The Verton exploded. “It’s the damn Equatians; they must have had a large part in this. A fuel cannot be constructed within fourteen hours, especially without a source. And your scientists, they are to blame. They jeopardise my chance of mining ore.”

  Muutampai turned at the outburst and stared the Verton down in disgust. “You are not welcome here anymore. Get out of my sight. Take the space bus and never return. You have one hour before I give orders to shoot you on sight.”

  “Come gentlemen.” Bob fidgeted where he sat and then stood. “This is no time to quarrel amongst ourselves. Let’s remind ourselves of the reason we are here, for peace and purpose, for the planet’s sake.”

  The Verton started for the door. “From here on in you are expelled from my planet’s books!” He strode out through the door and was gone.

  Muutampai looked at Bob. “You too, earthman. Take leave from us. It won’t do you any good to stay here. If we don’t act now, we’ll soon fall.” And he then addressed the others. “None of you should be present.”

  “Maybe it’s not too late.” The Zirclon pleaded.

  “Leave now; you must.” Muutampai had spoken. “Leave now. Take the space buses with you as a gift, please. Say no more, be on your way.”

  It was all over. Everyone boarded their buses with their planet guards and lifted off for the space vessels that awaited them high above the planet’s surface, far out of reach of any weapon.

  Within an hour of the news all had commenced their journeys back to their home planets. Within the hour all had sped off in parsec, to ponder on things to come.

  PLANET EARTH.

  SOUTH OF ACAPULCO.

  Nakatumi stood at the centre medical lab bench where a Tiger shark lay dead and smelling, the skin seemingly dry and yet sticky. Its left fin had been cut from the body to allow the shark to remain balanced on one side.

  Rubber gloves were steadily folded over nimble fingers and then onto the hands of the surgeon. A sharp meat cleaver, acquired from the galley, was picked up from the tray of improvised surgical instruments. It cut deep into the belly of the fish with the aid of an occasional hack. Fluid spilled out over the floor. The milky white substance smelt even more potent than the body.

  A large Tuna fell from the inside as the stomach lining was severed. Nakatumi jumped slightly at the sight. He continued to cut. A human foot still in its rubber fin was revealed. Nakatumi’s insides wrenched and his cheek’s swelled, a light groan travelling his throat. He turned and knelt down over the bucket to his side, previously placed for that of tissue samples, and threw up his meal as though a small bomb had exploded from deep inside. His fingers tried to dig deep into the plastic bucket as his head heaved with another regurgitating action. The door to the medical lab then opened and John walked in. “Naka, you in here?” He looked around.

  The spewing surgeon lifted his head into plain view of the squad commander. “What are you doing down there, Nakas? Not sleeping on the job I hope.” He let go with a slight chuckle at the sight of the man as he approached; even after all of the lives lost, there was still room for jocularity. The loss of life had to be surrendered from memory, in order for all to think straight and for them to get on with the task at hand.

  Nakatumi moved slowly, removing his gloves, carrot and rice dribbling from the corners of his mouth. “Actually,” he swallowed a piece of rice, the gulping action forcing a grin of distaste to show on his face. “I’m conveying my feelings through a normal bodily function.”

  “How’s it going?” The shark’s underside couldn’t be seen from his present position.

  “Just started. I’ve been down at the library, over the past hour, trying to find some evidence of shark communal habits. It seems that our assumptions were correct; regards the shoaling.”

  “Yeah; well, I’ve been doing some research of my own.” He pulled a photocopy from the portfolio that he carried under his left arm and handed it over. “I remembered something a few years ago and I’ve just stumbled across it again.” John continued as Nakatumi glanced through the papers. “Some time after the Third World War, in the latter part of the Twenty First Century, dolphins were used extensively for underwater reconnaissance. A small camera was attached to their backs for recognition of sunken vessels and important lost documents. The dolphins had a small electromagnetic chip installed on their skulls.” Nakatumi subconsciously turned to look at the shark as though in investigation. “All actions of the dolphins were controlled from the surface.

  “A few years went by and the dolphins were discarded into the oceans. In time, these mammals of the sea became infamous, leaving behind them a trail of disaster: death amongst swimmers, self-mutilation from ramming against fishing vessels. Whales and many other species of sea creature were attacked, no matter what the size. That’s why they were nearly hunted to extinction.”

  Nakatumi spoke: “You think these could have something similar?

  “Well, it would certainly put reason to everything that’s happened. The records show that it was an invention of a scientist named Elmara Pasnad
inko.” Nakatumi felt the jolt. “A root in Pasnadinko’s family tree; the pasha to El Pasadora himself.”

  “If they did have these chips, couldn’t we counteract their actions through transmitters?”

  “It’s possible, but not secure. If we mess with it, it could alert Nicaragua of our presence and possible intentions. It really isn’t worth the risk. All you need to do now is cut that son-of-a-bitch open and see what you can find. The labs back home can decide what’s best.” John turned to leave. “I’ll let you get on with it. There’s a horrible smell in here,” he moved towards the door. “Like you broke wind or something.”

  “Fine.” Shaking his head he moved back to the table. “Always joking, and after so many deaths. I’ll never understand.” He thought deeply, his own brain, mannerisms and beliefs. All of that which could only be explained as belonging to an Irshstuptian soul.

  “That’s the way on Earth; and by the way. We’re being picked up by air operations half way between here and San Francisco; in about two hours.”

  “More than ample time, John.” Their eyes didn’t meet this time, and the door closed quietly.

  PLANET EARTH

  SPACE.

  Spacelab Nine sat stationary in space above North America, a revolution in SGPO – Static Global Positioning in Orbit. It was a manned satellite. Its function was to maintain other satellites of the planet Earth and as a more efficient way of relaying transmissions, from other planets, to the planet’s surface; much more beneficial than awaiting natural alignment and the receiving of inter-quadrant broadcast from far away planets and solar systems.

  The captain, Cornelius Urnshore, entered the satellite control room. Only two men sat here, both with their backs towards the man who had an attitude as large as his ego and a foot as big as his mouth. Politeness was a one-way street where he was concerned, as too were many other human be-nice factors. “Mr Forster, how’s your little task going?”