Battle On The Marathon

by John Thornton

  “Or they were destroyed like the boats,” Brett chimed in.

  Bartlet made a decision. “Carol go and repurpose those existing automacubes to come and dismember and bury the orcas. If they are unable to do that, our backup plan will be to dose the dead bodies with combustible materials and burn them, although that is less than ideal.”

  “I will get right on it,” Carol replied.

  “Brett, go with her. No one goes anywhere alone. No one,” Bartlet said.

  “I will stay by you, Bartlet,” Pilliroog said and stepped over next to her. “Always.”

  Carol and Brett took off.

  “So, when they get those automacubes on the job, that should take care of the dead whale problem. We are still out of contact with everyone else. The local network functions, but I can send nothing off this island. Well, except for the automatic library replies.” Bartlet spoke what we all knew. That was her way of leading, and I liked it. “I linked up all our macroactinide capacitor enhancers and we have power. I should be able to connect to anywhere on the Marathon. Well, it looks like I am sending properly, but no one is answering. Our sending system checks out, so I do not know why we have not been about to make a link to someone.”

  “Use a signal fire,” Radha suggested.

  I looked to her. Radha’s face was serious. She looked back at me and I could see firm determination in her eyes.

  “People do love to come and see a fire,” Jane added. “And it may alert the firefighting authorities, but will it be visible from the nearest island?”

  “Back to basics. It is worth a try. Good thinking, Radha. Kulm, you go with her and set a signal fire at the highest spot on this island. Start it shortly before dusk, so people can see the smoke and the flames. Make sure it is a contained fire. I know the people here do not seem to have much by way of supplies, other than for fishing and subsistence farming, but see if someone has some optics or even old fashioned binoculars. Use those to scan the sea for other islands or boats. Send out our fire signal. If you find some large flood lights, those might serve that same purpose, but I have not seen anything large enough to work.”

  “I compiled what we learned about the locals. There are two hundred and five people here, not counting us. Those are the ones we counted. That is about right with what the automatic library says the population here should be. It does not include us or the clown scientists. The people here are frightened badly by what has happened,” Timofei said, “and I am not sure if it is just the destruction of the boats or our presence. They are not used to armed people being here, and that has raised their anxiety levels terribly.”

  “Well, we cannot leave right now,” Bartlet said. “Unless we swim, and I am not planning on doing that. Timofei, you and Matkaja go around to the locals and see if any of them have boat building abilities. I imagine someone here has ways of doing boat repairs, or building an all new boat.”

  “Unless Reproduction and Fabrication just sends them down here, as needed,” Brett said. “The boats that were wrecked were manufactured, and not hand-made. I keep trying to understand why the criminals want to strand everyone here. Are the criminals based here? Or is there something about this island that is special to them? Any ideas?”

  “Those are good questions. Brett, you also go with Timofei and Matkaja. Ask the people what they do for general repairs, and do not accept simplistic things like, ‘We just call Machine Maintenance’ as an answer. We all know not every repair goes through official channels. Find the person who does hands-on work, customizations, and modifications. I am sure someone here has modified a fishing boat or other equipment. Find that person and see if we can get a boat built. Otherwise, we might be stuck here for a long while, and frankly, I do not like that idea.”

  “Kalju and I will go check out the elevator,” Jane volunteered. “I think whatever did that is connected to the boats, the orcas, and the dogs. It all happened about the same time, and there must be clues somewhere. Maybe the crew of that submarine used the elevators, and the craft was anchored somewhere off this island? I doubt that this is all just a coincidence. If we find the common threads, we will find a way to track down the criminals.”

  I nodded my head. What Jane was saying made sense, but I was still upset and angry. Her comment about the dogs reminded me of the burial I had just done, which, in some odd way, made me think of Earle and his wild ideas. So, I spoke, “Bartlet? Check on that oceanographer. He is convinced about his crazy notions, but maybe beneath his nuttiness there is something? They both were down in that station when the corridors flooded, and now the troubles have followed them up here. Is that connected?”

  Bartlet flipped her blonde hair and looked at me. “Sure, Pilliroog and I will go talk to them. I am not his favorite person now, but I think you are his least favorite one.” Her grin softened her words a bit. “I ran a background check, and the two of them are who they claimed to be. The library search I did confirmed their identities. They are indeed Sylvia Ledbetter, and Earle Delevane, both hold advanced degrees, and are considered as specialists in marine dialectology, linguistics, and nonwritten aquatic philology. I also know neither of them left Rolf’s home last night.”

  I was impressed. I had not thought to check their stories with the automatic library.

  “Come on Kal,” Jane said and tugged at my arm. “This mystery will be unraveled by all of us doing our parts.”

  Walking back toward the ruined elevator, I wondered what more we could find out by examining the damage, but Jane was insistent. I had no other ideas and was still fuming about the dead dogs.

  The elevator was still ruined, and even though we searched all around it, we did not find anything else. The ground did not have tracks or anything like that. It still looked like the damage was all done from inside of it, somehow.

  “It takes immense pressure and strength to break permalloy this way,” Jane said. “But maybe they did something to weaken it first?”

  “Someone said the permalloy might have been faulty,” I replied. But I climbed the rubble and looked around. I poked my arms down into cracks and holes, but found nothing but the bent, crumbling, and broken permalloy. The mechanisms for the elevator were beyond my reach. “I see nothing new, do you?”

  Jane was looking at the inscription, her light-brown eyes intensely focused. She read it aloud, “Maintenance Elevator to Lower Levels. Authorized Personnel Only.” Her face was pinched in concentration, while her curly hair framed her head.

  “Jane? What are we looking for, exactly? Clues, I know, but this is all just ruined here. No residues, no blast marks, no chemical stains, nothing but brute force, or so it seems to me,” I said. “I suppose with enough tools, or a couple of engineering automacubes we could move the wreckage away, but I doubt the elevator will ever work. The shaft might be open, somewhere under that, but what good does it do?”

  “What good indeed?” Jane muttered. “What purpose did destroying this serve? I am trying to think like the criminals.”

  “I will play. They blocked our way of escape, just like sinking the boats,” I said. “Seems simple enough.”

  “Or they blocked anything more from coming here. What if that was the real goal? To prevent something for getting up and out from the corridors.”

  “Well, except for that flooding of the toxic gunk, those corridors connected to all over this habitat. Could the flooding and the destruction of the elevator be part of some plan?” Then it occurred to me. “Is it part of Operation Barnacle? Once we got back, bringing those scientists, then the elevator damage happened, the orcas died, and the boats were sunk. That effectively locks us onto this island. Especially since we cannot contact anyone else.”

  “Are we prisoners, or in protective custody?” Jane wondered. I could tell she was letting her thoughts flow and trying to brainstorm for other options or ideas.

  “Is the elevator the only way to the subsurface? Automacubes often are sent out by various routes. The elevator is one. The boats are another. Gr
avity conduits would be a third way.” I had climbed down from the pile of junk, and was pacing about, looking down at the ground, the pathway, and even in among the nearby growths of various vegetation.

  “Most places have a tertiary system for ambulation. Some kind of stairway, ladder, or something,” Jane stated. “I did not see anything like that on the deck plans, but they were not detailed schematics, or design plans. They are more like general guidelines for visitors or tourists.”

  We searched all afternoon, and it was really pretty boring. We did find a doorway which led to a staircase. I thought that would lead somewhere, but it only took us down to an underground supply room, which aside from a gravity conduit platform, and some storage crates filled with gardening supplies, it was a bust.

  As I think about that now, it was the last boring time I had on that island. It almost seems strange and unbelievable for me to record that here, but that afternoon of just searching around was one of the best moments I had on that island. Well, anyway, as the sky tube began to wane, and dusk settled, we ate some of our food supplies, and decided to walk back toward Rolf’s home.

  As we approached there, I heard the work of the automacubes. Their engines were purring away as they toiled on the removal of the dead orcas. The three green ones were busy digging a large hole. Each green automacube had six drive wheels, three on each side, and the green versions, designed for horticultural work, also had shovel devices which extended out from their fronts. Usually that was used for plowing, or planting trees, or moving foliage, but Carol had repurposed it to do a sort-of strip digging. They were following each other, rutting out the ground and making a deep depression. Three automacubes working side by side, stripping off the soil and moving the dirt up onto a temporary pile. It was inland only a short way from where the dead whales were. The hole they were making would accommodate the carcasses of all three orcas.

  The engineering automacube was using a cutting saw on its multijointed mechanical arm to sever the orcas’ bodies into transportable chunks. The saw was not designed for use on biological materials, but it was adequate to the task. Again, that was due to Carol’s repurposing commands. As it sectioned off parts of the dead whales, the yellow transport automacube was hauling them up and placing them into positions in the hole. It was a fairly efficient arrangement they were doing, although the smell was wafting out over the whole operation.

  Just as the busy automacubes were turning on their own lights, I saw that on the hill at the center of the island, a blazing bonfire was going. The smoke rising up from that was making ribbons floating up and away.

  “Someone should see that,” I said and pointed.

  Jane nodded her head. “I hope it is the right people. We are exposing ourselves to the criminals as well. They do probably know we are here, if they destroyed stuff to trap us.”

  Apparently, the others had all had the same idea of meeting back at Rolf’s house at roughly the same time. Except for Radha and Kulm who must have stayed to tend the signal fire. They were lucky.

  Pilliroog and Bartlet came out of Rolf’s house, followed by the two oceanographers.

  Each team reported what had been found.

  Timofei spoke for his group. “No boat builders. There has not been a need to build a new boat, as these were here since launch. They tell me that what few repairs are needed are done with simple mending kits, and those are hardly capable or restoring one of the sunken boats.”

  “They did say that supplies most often come via the boats from the other islands. Rarely, things come up on the elevator, and there is a single gravity conduit platform in a supply room somewhere where parts and the like are shipped in from Reproduction and Fabrication. The biggest repair I found out about was not on a boat, but on someone’s kitchen stove. A heating element went out, and Reproduction and Fabrication sent out a replacement. That homeowner just unplugged it and plugged in the new one. Anything bigger than that, and Machine Maintenance sends out a message to that engineering automacube outside which goes and does the repairs,” Matkaja informed them. “They have a pretty sedate and leisurely life here, well, they did until this mess.”

  “We found that gravity conduit platform,” Jane stated. “Up in an underground supply room near the ruined elevator. No new clues on that elevator, sorry.”

  “Up in the underground?” Brett laughed. “Was there a GAGS there altering gravity manipulation?”

  Jane scowled at him, but not in a mean way. “No GAGS. I should have said down in an underground room. The point is we did find it.”

  Just then someone pointed out past where the automacubes were working. Something was coming in fast from out on the sea.

  “That is one of those MOP-1 boats!” Bartlet called out. “The Marathon Defense Forces use those.” She did not need to remind me that it was the same kind of boat Lieutenant Adams had used. I truly hoped he was back in Kansas where I had last seen him, and not on the boat that was racing toward shore.

  A voice called out over the waters. “Shut down those automacubes!” It was barely audible, but the urgency in the voice was evident. “Shut them all down!”

  “Why should we do that? They are just getting the dead buried. What harm is that?” Carol asked.

  “Do what he says,” Bartlet commanded, and she ran toward the beach. “Shut them down!”

  Carol ran toward the beach as well. I was not sure why Bartlet thought it was so important, but I too ran toward the automacubes. As I did I looked out over the sea. The boat that was approaching was like that other one we saw at Raven Academy in style, but was green and gray stripped. It was using some hydrofoils and nearly the entire hull was slightly above the water. It was moving really fast.

  Carol was shutting down the closest horticultural automacube by accessing the panel on its rear section. She had dropped into the hole to do that. Bartlet vaulted in next to her. Several of the others were also nearly there, when that voice boomed out from across the water.

  “Clear the beach! Clear the beach!” I could tell the voice was magnified and coming from the boat, but the urgency of the new command was even more extreme. “Get away!”

  “They are insane!” Brett said. He was running next to me.

  “Right, make up their minds,” I replied as I stopped my running.

  Brett also stopped, as we saw that Timofei had reached the engineering automacube. Jane was working on the yellow transport automacube. The lights on all the machines went dark a moment later. In the dusky light, I could still see the boat as it rapidly swung in near the shore. The wake from it hydrofoils was white in the dim light.

  Blam! Blam! Blam!

  The small battlement which was just in front of the MOP-1s windowed cabin began firing. Bright yellow muzzle flashes erupted and cast a brilliant sheen on the sleek contours of the boat. Those flashes revealed that the boat had large scrapes and dents all along its side. The damage must have been significant since I could see it from shore.

  “What are those idiots shooting at?” Someone yelled.

  “It must be the submarine!” Pilliroog roared out as he and Bartlet climbed up out of the hole.

  That got us all interested, but instead of listening to the words from that boat’s crew, we all rushed forward to see the expected submarine. I have often wondered how things would have been different if only we had listened.

  Well, I ran to one side of the partially dismembered orcas, and I saw something was in the water, out about thirty meters from the shoreline. It was a lump of something, with a purple overcast to it. Like there was some illumination down in the water. Why the water was not running off the lump troubled me, as it looked so unnatural.

  Blam! Blam! Blam!

  The water spouted up where the projectiles struck. It was all around the lump, but I still could not see what exactly was down in the water.

  The MOP-1 boat raced right toward the lump, its main battery still firing round after round. Just as the boat reached that spot in the water, the lump disappea
red, and the water flattened out. The boat roared over that spot and several canisters dropped off its stern.

  Kabloosh!

  An explosion took place just under the surface of the water. Splashes flew in all directions, and water rained down on me. It was not a cool sprinkle, but warm and almost hot. The MOP-1 sped off. It tilted on the water, its hydrofoils tipping and modifying its course. The weapon battery rotated around and fired again right into where the explosion had been.

  Blam! Blam! Blam!

  More fountains of water lurched up, but the lump was nowhere to be seen.

  The MOP-1 curved back and rushed again at the same place, but suddenly, something caught the port side foil. There was a purplish glow which shone from the depths. The hydrofoil strut was ripped off, and the craft twisted about. The boat slapped down into the water, hard. Its speed was lost, and it rocked and shook back and forth as it skidded and whirled across the surface of the water. A human body cartwheeled away as it was thrown from the cabin of the MOP-1. Something grabbed that person and it went under the water.