MILDRATAWA

by Nigel Clayton

  “That’s understandable. It would please me if you could give me a brief on my crew. My familiarity with a vessel such as this will certainly not need refreshing, and I’m sure your data banks will bring me up to date with any ongoing activities.”

  Cornelius offered a chair behind the desk and indicated the data base information tree on the computer. “I think this will be to your liking.”

  “It’s in order. It’ll take me little time to be acquainted.”

  “I’ve organised a staff meeting for fourteen hundred hours. The only member of staff that won’t be present is Miss Shannon, she’ll be running the bridge during the introductions.” Cornelius watched Charles as he mentioned Shannon. “Do you know Miss Shannon?”

  “No I don’t believe I do. I’ve seen a photo of all of the crew members, and I’m sure that I wouldn’t forget a pretty face like hers,” he answered with a smile.

  ‘That bitch.’ “Yes, of course. Can I get you a coffee?”

  “That would be nice, thank you.”

  Cornelius could see his hands around Shannon’s neck as he poured from the decanter. “I hope that Lion blend is to your liking.”

  “Marvellous.” Charles lifted a letter from his briefcase. “I have something here for you Cornelius. I’m not sure what’s in it. All I can tell you is that it’s from Compos Mentis. Something about the message you sent the other day. They handed it to me just before I left.”

  Cornelius placed the coffee onto the desk and opened the envelope. “Thank you.” He read anxiously and showed discomfort in the words that he read.

  “Bad news?”

  “Well, yes. My leave has been cancelled for an unspecified amount of time. It would appear that there is a Mildratawa meeting tomorrow and that my presence is required.” His only thoughts were those of: ‘My leave gone,’ and ‘what are they up to?’

  “Well look on the bright side;” Cornelius looked him in the eye and wondered if there could be a bright side to it all. “At least you’ll have your feet firmly planted on home soil.”

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

  They drank their coffee. Cornelius’ mind wondered off in mid conversation; talk of work, and the ship, only depressing him more. ‘Two more hours and I’ll be out of here.’

  PLANET EARTH.

  WEST OF GUADALAJARA.

  The squad met in their cabin on the Nemo. John pulled the small chip from his pocket, removing it from within its tissue-padded surroundings. He held it up for the others to see, as though it were a trophy, and placed it onto the table, central to all.

  “Nakatumi has found the burden set upon us. A small object indeed, but one with devastating effects; as we have all seen. Our group has paid the price for carelessness. For speed and ease of work we entered the channel with little weaponry. This must never happen again.”

  Looking around the table at each individual face, it was plainly seen that each man was suffering from a bout of depression, the black dog, due to the obvious loss of so many friends, and the seemingly obvious end to the team.

  “The information has been forwarded to the Mildratawa and they in turn have asked for our presence at the meeting, which is to be held tomorrow. This explains our airlift which will be here in;” he examined his watch, “fifteen minutes from now. They have sent their thanks and gratitude, for mission success—”

  “Mission success.” Brad laughed with sarcastic emotion. “Who the hell do they think they are?”

  “Just hold your horses, Brad. This mission, whatever it was for, isn’t over yet. There’s a hell of a lot we don’t know as yet. Now keep your comments to yourselves. I’m sure we all feel the same and hard done by, but the fact of the matter is—”

  “The fact of the matter is!” Julius barked in, “is that they don’t give a shit!”

  John stood slowly and waved a finger around the table. “I’m also sick of the risks we take, they get worse each year, but in the same token I love them too. Now, no more comments; please.” He sat back down and continued from where he’d been interrupted. “Gratitude for mission success, and send their condolences. All arrangements for accommodation have been booked in at the Council for Unity complex. The meeting will commence at ten hundred hours precisely. That’s all I wanted to say. Now go and pack the last of your gear in preparation for the transfer to air transport. The remainder of our equipment will be delivered to the docks of Acapulco at a later date. Any questions? No sarcastic comments, please.”

  “Yeah.” Julius said. “We going to have a few beers?”

  “As many as you can fit in, Julius.” A forced grin grew. “Let’s go.”

  They packed and moved to the upper deck. The aircraft would be making a vertical landing on the sub any minute now. Clouds in the sky around were thick, but the wind was calm; a cyclone was in the brewing – El Nino in affect. “Looks like we’re getting out just in time,” said John, folding his arms across his chest.

  PLANET EARTH.

  AMERICAN STATE AIRSPACE.

  The spaceship Atlantic came out of parsec and commenced its approach through the layers of atmosphere towards Earth. Bob Neil watched from a window of the 100 metre long aircraft.

  He chuckled to himself slightly and looked around at the setting of the interior, laid out by way of an old style jumbo jet, but with atmospheric shaped exterior – thin and narrow. Here he was, alone. Not one other person to speak of, except the two pilots up front, and another two aboard the space bus in the cargo hold, probably sleeping or gambling away their wages.

  He thought then of reality, his brows slightly folding to a close. ‘Basbi Triad. What people. What disgusting mannerisms and threats towards peace. The Mildratawa will be astounded by my story.’ He looked again, out of the window.

  The red gusts and blemishes from the forward nose plates of the aircraft were brilliant as oxygen burned. The sinking sun on the horizon was magnificent. And then in time, as they approached the airport, the blues of the ocean, and the greens of the trees – majestic. He’d be landing soon. ‘I must report as soon as possible.’ And his eyelids slowly closed as the rocking of the ship lolled him into a brief sleep.

  PLANET EARTH.

  AMERICA STATE.

  The meeting in the Chambers of Peace was opened in the usual manner, with the coordinator laying down the sequence of events. All members of the Mildratawa took note of the pecking order in which they were to be addressed by the coordinator himself.

  Apart from the carafe of water, and six empty glasses that sat on the centre table, the floor at this stage stood empty.

  The coordinator cleared his throat. “Our first speaker for the day, Mr John Younge. Please move to the floor, Mr Younge.” John approached the desk, fiddling with the knot of his tie as he moved.

  The room echoed more today than any other. The seats of the second and third quadrants were empty of presence. Other members from the remaining eight quadrants waited patiently.

  John prepared himself by arranging his papers on the desk and oblivious to the Council’s silent wait poured himself a handsome glass of water. He quenched the thirst that hung high in his throat, gulping down the crystal clear substance.

  John turned to receive the nod from the head seat behind him. The signal was acknowledged. He now faced the forum. “Morning, Ladies and Gentlemen.” A prolonged pause caused a little agitation, and a grin came and passed quickly over his oval face. “I have been asked to commence this day’s proceedings as it is in the Council’s understanding that my presentation, quite simply, is the best place to start.

  “As you are all aware, several days ago, my squad and another, were sent on a task to Nicaragua. I regret to say that although we gathered some seemingly vital information, the mission itself was met with the burden, and loss, of eight members of the two squads combined. An unprecedented and bizarre race of shark – bizarre because of our findings – were responsible for the deaths we sustained, via electromagnetic chips planted within each of the sharks’ head
s. Please view the screen above the head seat.” He paused and turned to ensure that a cut representation of the mechanism could be seen on the large three-dimensional screen behind him.

  “The science lab has more information on the chip, but their report will come a little later on in the agenda.” He paused, reaching steadily for the half-filled glass, finishing off its contents. “To continue, what we have found is that the channel in question does penetrate all the way to Lake Nicaragua. The last few hundred metres however, do not allow for a one hundred percent access-free approach. A seemingly unprotected entrance is sealed by one foot in diameter, titanium based, and vertical bars; spaced so as to prevent any large vessel from entering. A smaller hand held motorised skimmer will fit between these without a problem.

  “It is feasible to suggest that the bars do not have detectors attached; our scanner came up with nothing abnormal. This does not eliminate the possibility that the Nicaraguans may patrol the area occasionally.

  “Our first team passed through these bars and proceeded to the point now indicated on the screen, a distance of around 1.5 kilometres. It was here that these vicious sharks attacked. All of that team were killed.

  “A decision was then made, by me, to send three other members in. Their task was to run an automatic skimmer with the necessary equipment attached to the same point. The skimmer was unaffected by shark and no movement within a radius of 500 metres of the skimmer was detected. Thirty minutes later Julius Moda informed my station that they were under assault from shark. Julius managed to secure a few of these sharks under the hull of his mini sub and brought them back to the Nemo. Needless to say, the other two members perished.” Another pause and a deep breath eased him slightly.

  He scratched his forehead in contemplation, trying hard not to think of all of the good men lost during the mission. He controlled his composure well and continued. “Once safely aboard the Nemo an autopsy was carried out by our medical man Nakatumi Jassat. That was when we found the first of the chips implanted on the shark’s skull. That’s about all I have to offer you. Would there be any questions?” He looked around the area.

  “Yes, Mr Younge,” an Inpuloid from planet Negabba, Quadrant Seven to the Mildratawa, stood and addressed. “How many of these creatures would you suppose there are?”

  “That is indefinite. No limit can be placed. You must remember— sir, your name please.” John glared intently at the young appearance of the being. His features resembling that of a man but on closer inspection it could be noticed that he had only two fingers and one thumb on each of his scaled hands. The scales grew from just above the wrists down. This was a biogenesis feature that grew in place to protect the large veins that ran along the small portion of the wrist’s surface. This was not characteristic to an Inpuloid whom may have bred with another species other than that of its own.

  “Inpuloid Anamada-gabba.”

  “Well, sir, to continue. You must consider the actual size of such a lake. It covers a good one in six acres, all under the same dome. There could be an unlimited amount to the numbers of schools.”

  “Schools?” The Inpuloid questioned.

  “Groups of fish, Mr Anamada— uh, sir. Sharks move around in schools, sometimes referred to as a gam, grind, herd, pod, collage, or shiver.” The Inpuloid took his seat in offence, turning to a companion as though disgusted that his name had been forgotten. “Any more questions, please?”

  A Mistacheptian stood, unmistaken in his identity to the others in the forum, his eyes convex in shape like that of a praying mantis, hair of curving scalp and the ears of a cat. “I am Doctor Alkoyster, I wish to know if the chip can be counteracted in some way?”

  “Please, sir, if you’d care to wait, I’m sure your question will be answered by the science officer.” The doctor took his seat, quite embarrassed that his question hadn’t been answered. “Any others?”

  An Erulstinan stood, shielded in chest armour and shoulder decorations. The red cloth of lace from beneath the shining armour gave its boastful reminder of planet wealth. Although arms were forbidden in Compos Mentis, the sword that rest along his left side was permitted. Hand carved leather boots of Stamai’s hide – a very rare, horned ape – covered the run of the leg from the knee down; even a little make-up had been applied to his face to fend off the lighting of the room. Appearance was important. “I wish to know why the metal bars cannot be cut to allow for better access?”

  “Our sensors picked up nothing, but that doesn’t alter the fact that they may still hold a detector of some description. We did not have scanners that would allow our analysis of all properties present. The scanners could only give information as to whether a detector would acknowledge our passing through; cutting the bars could alert them to our presence. Does that answer your question, sir?”

  “It does indeed.”

  John gave a few seconds to scanning the room. No one else spoke. Before returning to his seat he bowed graciously towards the coordinator.

  “Thank you, Mr Younge. Our next speaker is a man known by many, but not all. Just so recently returned from the planet Basbi Triad; Mr Bob Neil.”

  Bob took his time to get himself comfortable, his notes placed neatly on the tabletop, corner touching corner. He was well dressed for the occasion, spoilt only by the yawn that escaped his lips, uncovered by the hand. “Thank you, Mr Chairman, and might I say what an honour it is to be chosen as a speaker to address the Mildratawa but once again.

  “My visit to Basbi Triad was short lived due to an unfortunate breakthrough by the Darkside.” A few whispers of comment could be heard, but ignored, another yawn. “Excuse me. The reason for the breakthrough: an unprecedented account of obvious fuels founded and put to good use by the opposing forces.

  “It caused a major disruption for the Council as the Vertons insisted that the Equatians had formed an alliance with the Darkside. Doubtful scrap metals, used only on Equatia, fell to the surface of the planet. This, unfortunately, was all that the Vertons needed.” Another yawn. “The Equatian on Basbi Triad had been called away just prior to this, which didn’t help matters. The reason; interplanetary peace talks – the keeping up of relations with neighbouring planets of the same system.

  “All outer galaxy representation was sent on their way by Muutampai himself. I also bring news as to the ionisation of the House of Suudeem and seven defence points along one of the sectors.” More bickering slowly rose from the seated gathering, which in turn was brought quickly into line by the coordinator.

  “This is all I have, except to say that the Vertons have stricken Basbi Triad from their books. The threat was intentional. The last time such a thing happened brought with it a ten year war.” Men stood and squabbling reached echoing proportion.

  The coordinator stood with microphone in hand. “Gentlemen! Gentlemen! Be quiet and still, please control yourselves like the ladies. Take your seats and keep your mouths peaceful. We cannot continue with such outbreaks of this behaviour. You are the leaders of all nations; treat your positions as such. The next man to cause such an outbreak will bring the Mildratawa meeting to a close, that is, until you can pull yourselves together.”

  After several seconds order did dominate. “Now please, act your parts. Please, Mr Neil; continue.”

  “Thank you, Mr Chairman, but I believe I’ve finished. Questions please.”

  Decara Simbati stood. “Good people, beings and tribes; you all know me from our last meeting, and I have only one question for the speaker. The Zirclon planet is in very close proximity to Basbi Triad. Even we didn’t know of their civil war due to the announcement of planet quarantine. We all now know the truth and it must be understood by all that my planet has very close ties with Basbi Triad. We cannot bring ourselves to attack or defend, to assist or bring about any consequence that must befall the planet. My question; how on the Mildratawa do you suggest we sort out this terrible problem, without bringing the tribes of my planet into terrible consequence?”

  General Carra
mar Good stood. “I will answer that question when the time arrives.”

  “The time is now.”

  “No sir, the time is not now. You do not know all of the facts; neither do the remainder of the gathering here. My turn to speak will be soon enough; then and only then, will all records be straight.” Both men glanced towards the coordinator simultaneously and held their tongues from further slander, taking their seats in quiet, returning the floor back to Bob.

  “Any more questions?”

  “Yes.” A voice was heard from the rear. A short brown skinned being clad in the robes of a Fio-nop, a religious order of self-awareness, from the planet Zudomm – Quadrant Eight to the Mildratawa. They were a being of little voice, idealism being most important, and they usually kept to themselves. He now spoke with monotone voice, and when a Zudomminium spoke, all listened. “My question is not a question, but a comment for the tribes of Zirclon. You cannot win peace by having others win it for you. You can neither win peace by fighting for it. You must stand by your ground and press your laws onto all intruders. Only here should you put your laws into action. But remember this; do not shrug off a friend. Stay only on your home planet and that which befalls you is yours alone.” He sat down and silence reigned again.

  The comments made little sense to some; they now stared in thought. Others turned their stares back to the coordinator, nodding their heads gently to themselves in their own acknowledgment with what was said. “Yes; indeed. Um, I shall now relinquish the floor if there is no more business.” Silence again. “Then I thank you, Mr Chairman.” He bowed as another yawn was inhaled and exhaled; he retreated to his seat with a hand over his mouth, slightly shaking his head, shaking the very essence of tiredness from his jaws.

  “I now call upon Captain Cornelius Urnshore.”

  He stood and remained in place. “If it would please the meeting, I will remain where I am.”