Battle On The Marathon

by John Thornton

  “The lorry on loan to you is right there,” Sergeant Ethan stated. “Be careful with it. After you are done playing wargames, it will be used for productive work.”

  I barely glanced at the truck, which was just like the one Mister Fisher had used to haul us around. Instead, I looked at the biome. It was not Kansas, but it was close. Bright yellow light, a sky tube high overhead and running as far as I could see. And a town of clean and pretty buildings. Some birds flew over, gliding their way across the air and making little dives around the houses and shops. Small insects bussed around my nose and ears. I could smell the fragrance of flowers, and the air felt so fresh and pure. I inhaled deeply, and let out a long sigh of contentment. I could taste the natural world, and savored it.

  I noted that the others from Eight-Squad, were also taking in the sights, sounds, and smells. The town of Sheba was located in the corner of the habitat, and it consisted of winding roads, and assorted houses and buildings. Each was unique but most were a taupe or light brown color. Darker brown sloped roofs covered most of the structures, but at a myriad of different angles and pitches. Then there were also some flat roofs, and tops of buildings which were decks, terraces, or gaming areas. The tallest structure was the chatelet we had just exited. It had four stories above ground, plus at least one basement level. At the top was a bell tower with twin widows, on each side, beneath a pyramid roof.

  Laughter echoed down from some people playing a ball game on one of those flat roofs. Other people were walking about, doing their daily routines. Children skipped, whistled, ran and played. Two old men sat at a table playing a board game with small wooden tokens, I could not see what game it was, but I wanted to walk over and join them. A dog ran up to me, and sniffed at my legs. I squatted down and that dog licked my hands. He was a bigger dog than Marie, and was completely black with floppy ears and short hair. His pale brown eyes looked happily at me.

  “Charcoal! Come on, you silly dog! I have a treat for you!” a child called, and the dog’s ears perked up and he gave me a quick final lick, and trotted off after the child.

  Sergeant Ethan barked at the child and dog, “Keep that mongrel away from us, or I will teach it a lesson. Foolish child! The Queen’s Red Guard does not need to be bothered by pets nor children.”

  I almost drew out my weapon and shot him, right there. Lazlo’s glare helped me restrain myself, as did Prezsky’s hand on my shoulder. I had the shot all lined up in my mind, but it was not this stupid sergeant I was thinking about so much as it was Lieutenant Adams.

  “Load up the truck,” Lazlo commanded. He turned to the sergeant. “I assume the navigation system has our destination plotted?”

  “But of course, I cannot expect foreigners to know where they belong, can I?” The way he said foreigners rankled several of the others, and I saw a flash of anger cross Lazlo’s face.

  With tight lips beneath his beard, Lazlo responded very formally. “Thank you, Sergeant Ethan. I will not keep you from your more pressing duties.”

  That sergeant huffed and smartly turned and walked off. As he did he made a final comment, “Keep the weapons safe, and avoid spreading rumors, if you can.” He muttered something else demeaning which I chose not to hear.

  We climbed into the truck, and Prezsky got into the driver’s seat. “May I drive Lazlo? Perhaps I can accidentally run down that Red Guard?”

  Lazlo laughed a bit. “I am afraid it would not be an accident, and I would have to answer to some Red Guard officer.”

  “It might also make a mess on this truck, and that would be the only downside I can see,” Kensington added.

  “The armor he wore was better than what we have. I would gladly strip his dead body for the armor,” Ella said.

  I climbed into the back, and looked at the tents and other gear. “They did give is camping equipment, which is decent quality.” I tried hard to ignore my anger at that sergeant, but swallowing it down was tough. “Maybe the Jellies have been defeated, and this is just a final mustering before we are discharged?”

  “I hope you are right, Kalju. I hope you are right,” Lazlo stated.

  I sure wish I had been right, but I was not.

  Prezsky drove us along the winding roads and away from Sheba. Some of the local people waved, and all our hopes were rising. One small child, maybe about five years old, was standing in the roadway and waving one hand. In his other hand was a wicker basket. Lazlo ordered the truck to stop, and I hopped out of the back and walked over to that child.

  “Standing in the road is dangerous. You need to watch out for the traffic,” I said.

  “Lorries never go too fast here, and they stop when I wave,” he said. His cute face was very dark and his bright brown eyes were endearing. “I have a gift for you. The apricots, plums, and cherries are good.”

  “Fresh fruit?” I squatted down and hugged him. The fruit looked delicious.

  “You are going to kill the beasts, right?” the child said.

  “What do you know about the beasts?” I asked. All thoughts of the fruit were gone. I hoped he was referring to some local predators, but the way he said beast, made me worry.

  “The purple beasts. I believe the stories. The new people talk about them. How all the waters were poisoned by the beasts, and now those people had to come live here. You warriors will save us from the beasts, right?”

  I hugged the child, and just held him for a while.

  “I got this fruit to help you. Take it all, so you are strong to fight off the beasts.”

  “Which fruit do you like best?” I asked him.

  “Apricots are my favorite,” he answered. His smile was missing a front tooth.

  “Then those will be my new favorite too. Before I take these, you better keep a couple of those nice apricots for yourself.”

  “You take these. We have plenty more. A warrior needs good food to fight the beasts,” he answered very seriously.

  “Do you know where the beasts are?” I asked.

  “No one does, but they are here. They chased everyone out of those other homes, and now they live here with us. But you warriors will stop them, right?”

  Again, I just hugged him and held him close. When we separated, I picked up his basket of fruits, and tousled his hair.

  “You must promise to kill the beasts. Promise me?”

  “I promise to kill the beasts.”

  He grinned and ran off.

  Walking back to the truck I thought of the difference between these two people I had encountered in Queen. First, was that sergeant in his fancy armor and his mocking, condescending, and doubtful attitude. Next was that child, barefoot, and in simple clothing, but worried about purple beasts. One of them was right. Perhaps the Jellies had been defeated, and that child was just hearing the true accounts from refugees out of Styx and Foreigner, but in my heart, I knew the purple beasts were still a real danger and that many battles were yet to come.

  That fruit was as delicious as it looked, and the five of us consumed most of the basketful by the time we made it to our camp. Our bivouac camp was already established with toilets connected into an underground sewer system, a large kitchen tent, and cleared places for our sleeping tents.

  Lieutenant Bridget Harpy was there waiting for us, along with twenty-seven other members of the Blue Tigers, from the various surviving squads.

  “Corporal Lazlo, and Eight Squad, welcome to our new home,” the LT said as we parked the truck next to two others. Someone had placed a handmade sign which read, “Lorry parking only—Absolutely no boats,” which I assumed was someone’s attempt at humor. It struck me as sad, and reminded me of the boat which I had seen the Jellie destroy when so many of my friends died on that blasted beach.

  “Lieutenant Harpy, what is our status here?” Lazlo asked. “We met someone from the Red Guard who was, shall I say, less than fully aware of the threats we know to be true.”

  The LT, pushed some of her hair back out of her face and said, “Well, now that you are all her
e, I can make a briefing to everyone.” She swept her arms in a wide gesture. “This is all that remains of the Blue Tigers. Stow your gear over there, and head to the kitchen tent. I will explain and answer your questions.”

  Lazlo looked like he had been punched in the gut. “All that is left?”

  I dropped my pack, and secured my weapons in a spot which was designated for a future tent, and I guess that claimed that place for me. I kept my gimp on in my holster and slung one of the bullpups over my shoulder.

  The kitchen tent had cooking equipment and seating for about fifty people. Ella, Kensington, Prezsky, and Lazlo were greeting others they knew from before. I scanned the crowd of faces, hoping to see Tudeng, Carol, Radha, or Matkaja. I even looked for Mister Fisher, or someone else from Raven Academy, but all those faces were strangers to me.

  After a generous round of handshakes, hugs, and far-too-brief reunions, Lieutenant Harpy called everyone to order.

  “Blue Tigers! Your attention please,” the LT stated.

  Immediately, everyone gave her their attention.

  “We are all that remains of the Blue Tigers. I am the only surviving officer, so there will be some reshuffling of the chain of command. Many of you have asked about our situation here. There are about three hundred refugees from Styx here. That is all who survived.” She stopped and let the soldiers murmur a bit at that news. “Foreigner fared even worse than Styx, I am afraid. From my understanding, and it is tentative, but there are only about a dozen Hellcats left, and about a hundred refugees from Foreigner.”

  “LT! LT, what about my friends? The militia from Kansas? We brought out those oceanographers, Sylvia and Earle. Where are my friends?” I yelled.

  Someone said something, which I am pretty sure was an insult about me, but was quickly shut down by a sharp rebuke. “He is the one who killed a Jellie.” I glanced over, but could not tell who made either remark.

  “Private Kalju, you are the only person in the Blue Tigers who was born in Kansas. As to the others who came out of Foreigner with you, I have not gotten any answers about that. Believe me, private, I have asked. Repeatedly. If I learn more, I promise to tell you.” Her eyes met mine, and I knew she was telling the truth. She turned to address everyone else. “So, let me give you all the straight load. The Marathon is in trouble. Big trouble. Now, you will not hear this from official channels, like from IAM Lenore, or that, umm…. dropling AI, MC001.”

  I was surprised at her swearing about the new AI, as the term dropling was one of the biggest insults I ever heard in Kansas.

  The LT went on. “You all were in Operation Barnacle in one form or another, but there have been no really official conclusions given. Here is what I know. Our mission in that goat rodeo was to secure and hold the tube transports in the towns of Tartarus and Charon. We knew legions of vodnee automacubes had been sent in underwater. They never returned. What no one told us though, was that much of the rest of the MDF was using shuttles to attack a Jellie spacecraft attached to the exterior hull of the Marathon. Also, an army of security automacubes approached that ship going both over the exterior hull, and along the corridors inside the shell. The pre-battle plan I finally got hold of said it was to be a ‘Three pronged, classic pincer attack, via shuttle, exterior security forces, and internal security forces.’ What a farce!”

  There was a collective gasp.

  The LT licked her lips, and looked around, as if she was fearful someone was listening, but then her face hardened and she continued. “I could get sacked for telling you this, but things are such a mess now, I do not care. This is not, I repeat, is not the official word, but I have a friend in the flight crew, who told me what is happening. The battle goes badly. The Marathon is in trouble. Operation Barnacle gives added gravy to the old meal featuring entrees of fubar, imbroglio, fiasco, group-cluster, and debacle. Call that dinner whatever you want, but we ate it. Oh, did we eat it all. No word or phrase will do justice to the royal morass of Operation Barnacle. From what I have learned, nearly every shuttle on the Marathon was thrown against the Jellie ship, or ships, that is unclear. The result? A bunch of dead officers, lost flight crews, and nearly every shuttle is gone. Destroyed. Nothing worked right. Few, if any, automacubes survived the attack on that Jellie ship, and worst of all, the soldiers of the MDF, who were going with the security automacubes along the exterior hull, they were in typical spacesuits. No real armor there at all! Good men and women died, because they underestimated the enemy, the Jellies. Command thought the Jellies were some space-born animal species. They are not animals, but intelligent, sentient, malicious aliens. Now Styx and Foreigner are flooded toxic wastelands. Both their shells are inhospitable to us, and what used to be living biospheres are now dead cesspools. The Jellies brushed away out attacks, then launched some kind of multiple offensives against the ship’s nonphysicality, shattering it in various places, and knocking the lattice of compeers entirely out of action. It is only now being restructured and repaired, and that is using secondary systems. The MDF is a mere shadow of what it was.”

  There was a silence which descended on all of us, as we stood there under that kitchen tent, hearing about the massive death toll of our defense forces.

  Then the LT stated, “There might be some survivors and some shuttles which escaped, but it was a madhouse. A true nightmare. So, now we are gathering here. The official word is that Operation Barnacle had some setbacks! Can you believe that blather! Bloody hellish mess, not a setback. So, here we are. We will be training for a ground offensive to retake one of those two habitats, since the shuttle campaign was a fiasco. We will be getting armor, which the Red Guard already have, but their leadership is another sad story. Despite what we know to be true, thanks to our own Private Kalju here, the Red Guard doubt everything. So, do not look to them for assistance. Denial? Or arrogance? Delusions? I do not know. But you all know we are facing an alien enemy, the Jellies. Kalju proved that for us.”

  I must have had a really puzzled look on my face. For the LT walked over to me and shook my hand. “Kalju, you made the only confirmed kill of any Jellies in any of the battles so far. We have blasted them out into space, we have hit them with our best weapons, and we have tried to burn them away. None of that made any confirmed kills. You, Kalju did it! Your single-handed kill is the only one where we got any specimens or samples. That physical evidence proves what these things are.”

  “Our seeing them, and a host of troops dying is not evidence enough?” I asked.

  “Be as flabbergasted as you want. I know that feeling,” the LT replied. “As soon as the armor comes, we will have a short training period, and then we move to retake those habitats. Captain Adams, IAM Lenore, and what is left of the senior staff believe that the Jellies are trapped in those two habitats. They believe we hurt them badly in Operation Barnacle, I am not so sure. Queen will be our training base for a push to retake those two habitats. For now, until our equipment arrives, make camp here. Post guards, but relax for a while. Eat, rest, and get some down-time. That is all for now.”

  “LT?” I called out.

  She walked away from the others and came over to me privately. I felt embarrassed a bit. “Private Kalju, what is it?”

  “I am from Kansas. Is there any possible way to contact my parents?”

  “Communications is spotty, but I will see what I can do for you, our hero.” She placed a hand on my shoulder, and I felt her squeeze. Again, I could tell from her eyes that she was genuine.

  “How many in the Red Guard here?” I asked as she started to turn away.

  “They have five hundred in armor, but their leadership is refusing the authority of Captain Adams,” the LT replied. She shook her head. “I can understand that, at least. But the Red Guard have some scientists who claim the Jellies are just a mutant species of Earth life, and that mechanical breakdown caused the problems in Styx and Foreigner. They will not help. They will not leave Queen. We are lucky, in a way, to have gotten their Reproduction and Fabrication faci
lity to build us the new armor.”

  She walked off, and I could almost see the burden she was carrying across her shoulders. Then she turned around and came back to me. “One last thing, you are now Corporal Kalju, and Lazlo is being boosted up to sergeant.”

  My jaw just about hit the ground. I stammered something incoherent.

  “You are a hero, and we need heroes badly. Congratulations, Corporal Kalju. You earned it. Oh, sorry to tell you, but with the new armor, you will need to lose the beard. Lazlo and Kensington will not be happy.”

  I set up my tent, and then went back to the kitchen. They were serving a buffet-style meal, and it was invigorating to have something fresh and different to eat. Everyone I saw, gave me a wide berth and it felt weird.

  It took several months, for the armored suits to arrive. During that waiting time, I spent many hours wandering around Queen. The Blue Tigers’ camp was nice enough, but I barely knew Eight-Squad, even with the months of patrols, and I did not know anyone else there. No other person was from Kansas and I grew tired of the stories of Styx and how they missed it, and how it was going to be when they recaptured their home habitat.