Battle On The Marathon

by John Thornton

  “Everyone hold on,” an authoritative man’s voice came over an area speaker.

  The whole world around me shook, rattled, and groaned. The floor shuddered as the entire repository, lurched. More people vomited as there were additional changes in gravity manipulation, and in the inertia dampening systems. It was a wild ride, in some ways as bad as the fall down the elevator shaft.

  “Lieutenant Gonzales, Repository Q-93 has been jettisoned from the habitat. All ten thousand cocoons stable and secure. Refugees in place. Docking with Chicago in twenty minutes,” that same male voice stated through my command channel.

  “Understood. Thanks Colonel Hayyon,” Lieutenant Gonzales answered. She then turned to the people all around. “Well done everyone!” She looked at me. “Kalju, I am one of your new commanders.”

  That was how I left Queen.

  6

  Poison Bread

  I guess I babbled on and on about Queen. I see that as I look back over my last log entry. That was a while ago when I recorded all that, and I am sorry of I went on too much. I was exhausted when I made that recording, maybe later I can edit it down some, but why? Queen was a weird time in my life, and in this battle, it was in a way a turning point for me. But, as I think about it, there have been too many turning points. Most turned sour, and Queen was one like that. That dog I rescued, well, it ran off after we docked Repository Q-93. Last I saw of the dog, it was running after some of the children from Queen as they dispersed into the Chicago habitat. I hope it had a good life, but I doubt it did. Sorry, I am depressed right now. The big jump plan ran into another wrinkle, and I had to do some ugly work, and, well, enough said about that.

  Oh, I guess I did not explain about Lieutenant Gonzales’ mission. I initially thought she was the top leader in her unit, but at that time she was a junior officer and part of the team whose job it was to figure out a way to disconnect suspended animation repositories from their original habitats and relocate them to what was considered a safe habitat. If only there had been a safe habitat. Well, Ryan, Q-93 with its ten thousand suspended animation sleepers, was moved from Queen to Chicago. Engineering automacubes had created pods on the external hull, cannibalizing some hanger bays, which allowed the repositories to be docked into Chicago. Those pods made docking the easiest part of the move. Getting a repository cut loose from another habitat was an immense undertaking, but was possible. The original designers had put in place wedge sections to allow repositories to be shifted around after making planetfall, or even during final orbit around the destination target planet. Those designers counted on a fleet of shuttles, and crews of engineering automacubes to get the job done. We had only a fraction of what we needed, and it took us a lot longer to make the alterations. Too bad we were late in getting that done. That repository, Q-93 was the only repository which was still intact from the three habitats the Jellies had already destroyed. One repository from all of Foreigner, Styx, and Queen. Tragic.

  Moving a repository is a huge undertaking, and Lieutenant Gonzales’ team did that to Q-93. Not only once, but twice, but that second move comes much later in my log and I am trying to relate this in roughly chronological order. Sorry, I get jumbled up in my recollections, and you can always cross reference with other people’s accounts.

  Before I go on, let me take a moment and ventilate some feelings I have about the big jump we are planning in the near future. This sure better work! I mean, to go through all we have endured and end up obstructed and unable to make the big jump, well that is unacceptable. To be backed against a wall because of technological incompatibilities and lack of understanding. Oh, how frustrating that would be. But I trust the Major, and if anyone can get it done, our Major will do it.

  So, I escaped from Queen with those fifteen hundred or so refugees and about a dozen Red Guard. Sadly, most of the Red Guard just shrugged off their armored spacesuits and slipped away with the refugees and into Chicago’s habitat. I found the abandoned armor scattered about the repository. Yes, in and around those suspended animation cocoons, the Red Guard had shed their own chrysalises, so to speak, and their true selves emerged. At that time, I suggested that we track them down, each and every single one of them, through their biometrics. However, Lieutenant Gonzales reminded me that forcing a coward to fight is not worth the effort. She was right. We sent the Red Guard’s armor in for refurbishment to be used by those brave enough to wear it properly, and proudly.

  Well, Chicago was a habitat-in-waiting. It was supposed to be the major city when we got to the destination world. Oh, there were the two thousand or so habitat dwellers who lived in Chicago, and were to spend their entire lives maintaining the city-in-waiting, but the habitat was built to house one hundred and fifty thousand people. The plan was to land it on that destination world, then revive all the suspended animation sleepers—they were scattered in various repositories in all eight habitats—and then those people would all move to Chicago where they would have a ready-built place to work, live, and contribute to our new colony world. It was a decent plan, I guess. The Colony Ship Marathon never got a chance to try that out. Maybe it would have worked. I sometimes dream about a peaceful trip to that destination world which we thought could be a new home.

  So, after Q-93 was docked into a pod and linked into Chicago, I thought I too would be going into Chicago, but the MDF had other plans for me. I had turned in my brown armored spacesuit—it was considered obsolete by then—and was assigned new reactive armor. That was the same kind of gear that Lieutenant Gonzales and her team used, but I will get to that in a moment. I also was put through numerous medical scans, more decontamination procedures, and even given a bit of time to relax. But not much.

  My old friends Colonel Gehlen, and Colonel Caldwell interviewed me, including some hypnotic sessions by Colonel Caldwell which were about as bizarre as anything I had experienced. As usual, neither of those officers answered any of my questions, and only gave me nebulous and generic statements about how the battles were going.

  The worst of all was when Colonel Caldwell would say, “We are all doing our part, and we all fight personal battles to make this mission a success.” I would have rather had her spit on me than slobber me with her insincere platitudes and sugar-coated banalities.

  So, I found out nothing about my family, about Kansas, or about my missing friends.

  “Sergeant Kalju?” Lieutenant Gonzales asked me as she knocked on the small cubical of an apartment I had been assigned. I had been there something like ten days, about eight of which were taken up by the medical testing, decontamination procedures, and the ever-inspiring talks with the twin colonels of comfort.

  “Hello Lieutenant Gonzales,” I replied.

  “Are you ready for our next adventure?” she asked. She was not wearing the reactive armor, and was just in basic camouflaged fatigues. They were the same colors and patterns of splotchy grays, blacks, and whites as that on her reactive armor. Her rank emblem was on one collar, while an emblem of some weird animal’s head was on the other. She was of medium build, muscular, with a moderately dark complexion, and pale blue eyes which had shades of gray in them. Her hair was brown, nearly black, and was neatly fashioned. Around her waist was a combat belt with a holstered sidearm.

  “Ready to get some answers and get away from here, for sure,” I replied.

  “I know you are not getting answers to where your militia friends are, or what has happened with your family. I have checked with MC001, as well as IAM Lenore, and the latest battle report is that Kansas is not involved,” she sort-of huffed at that, but did not elaborate. “I need you on my team, and we are leaving today. You have been assigned to me, and I am glad. Welcome to being a Biloko.”

  “A what?”

  “Your history shows you were in the militia—under Mister Fisher, a great man by the way—then a Blue Tiger, and now you are in my brigade, the Bilokos.”

  “I do not know that term.”

  She pointed to the animal on her lapel’s image.
“This is a Biloko of myth and legend. Biloko are restless ancestor spirits who resent invaders of their realms. They zealously protect their homes with long sharp claws and sharp-toothed mouths that can open wide enough to swallow an enemy whole. They never lose in battle. Bilokos bewitch and eat their enemies in battle, well, at least according to some ancient old-earth legends from before the Great Event. In practice, here on the Marathon, we are combat engineers, battling the Jellies.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Major Adams wants us to go to Bread and move another repository,” Lieutenant Gonzales replied. “It is an operation much…”

  “Major Adams? The son of the Marathon’s Captain?” I asked.

  “Yes, he is part of special operations, and my brigade is under that section. I should not call it my unit for our leader is Colonel Hayyon, and then Major Adams, and immediately above me are Senior Lieutenant Sharma, and Senior Lieutenant Begay. I am the logistics and acquisitions officer for the Bilokos, but I think of them as my unit.”

  “Adams is your supervisor?” I nearly spit.

  “Major Adams is in the chain of command, yes. I take it you have met the man, right?” Lieutenant Gonzales asked, but she said it more as a statement.

  “Unfortunately, yes I have. He was only a lieutenant then.”

  “After Operation Barnacle, any officer that survived was promoted,” Lieutenant Gonzales replied. “Right now, we need to get to the armory and get you equipped with our latest weaponry. Your use of the amvex grenade is required education for new trainees.”

  My face felt hot, so I changed the subject, “So, how goes the battle against the Jellies?”

  “There is an old saying that no news is good news, but that is malarkey, in our situation. It does not apply in our battles here against the Jellies. You know better than anyone what has been lost. Our moving of Q-93 was a success, but those are few and far between. Three complete habitats lost, and well, we are finding traces of poison and toxins in water everywhere. It seems these alien creatures have been aboard for a lot longer than you or I have been alive.”

  “How long have the Jellies been on the Marathon?”

  Lieutenant Gonzales pondered a bit as we walked along. As we got into another elevator, she said, “I am only given information about the missions to which I am assigned. Officer training did not give me any background on the Jellies, only about generic combat skills and leadership. Your killing that Jellie changed a lot of things, and the scientists are working on those samples you acquired. That is my understanding. Now about the men and women under my command, I get a basic background, but no more. You are the only one from Kansas, and you have more combat experience than anyone in the Bilokos. Therefore, you and I are going to be working closely together.”

  “You really have not been able to find out about Tudeng, Radha, Carol, or Matkaja? I asked Colonel Caldwell and Colonel Gehlen, repeatedly, but I get nothing from them. I might as well try cutting permalloy with a toothbrush.”

  “Kalju, just so you can trust me, I will again run those names for information and you will see what I get. It is one of my many jobs, as the junior officer of the Bilokos, to arrange staffing. We have time while we walk, and I do have opening in the Bilokos,” she smiled in a hopeful way. “Maybe this time will be different?” She adjusted the transceiver which was clipped onto her fatigues. “MC001, I request assignment of soldiers named, Tudeng, Radha, Carol, and Matkaja to my unit. Make it effective immediately.”

  “Message from MC001. Request acknowledged. Lieutenant Gonzales, there are no available personnel with those names. Additionally, there are no replacement forces available for your brigade. End transmission.”

  “Thank you for trying,” I sincerely said.

  We walked along in silence after that. She really had done a search for them, for me, but had no more luck than I did.

  “Here is the armory, and once we get you provisioned, we will head out to join the rest of the Bilokos,” she tapped a sequence into a nine-section color control pad.

  The door opened. I discovered that the armory was automated and small. As we entered, I expected to see racks of weapons, or shelves, or some kind of storage arrangements. None of that was there. It was just a tiny room with a countertop workstation. It was so different than where Lazlo had taken me.

  Lieutenant Gonzales laid her hand on the small work station which was just inside the door. “This is Gonzales. I authorize full combat equipment for Sergeant Kalju.”

  “Working,” a mechanical voice came from the wall.

  A beam of green light washed over me from head to toe.

  “Identity confirmed. Fabrication begun,” that same mechanical voice replied.

  “The lattice of compeers is repaired?” I marveled.

  “No, but IAM Lenore has made direct access to Reproduction and Fabrication a priority for officers. Weapons, ammunition, and armor are high priorities and get preferential services. That voice is Reproduction and Fabrication’s audio service module. Just a dumb order taker, not an artificial intelligence. The lattice of compeers has not worked since before Operation Barnacle. Now we have IAM Lenore, MC001, and some other new military command systems. I honestly am not sure what became of the old lattice of compeers.” She smiled at me again, “But the audio service module does do the job. Your gear will be at station when we leave for Bread,” Lieutenant Gonzales replied.

  “What gear will I get?”

  “Walk with me and I will explain. Two parts, defensive and offensive. Reactive armor, like you saw me wearing when we moved Q-93. Reactive armor is combat gear which will be more convenient than that armored spacesuit you had on, and do more as well. The tight-fitting helmet has built in strobes, like you have used, filtered eye protection against lasers, and that nasty purple glow from the Jellies, and full body protection. Reactive armor is as effective in vacuum and zero gravity as that more clunky spacesuit. So, in its own way, it is a spacesuit. Reactive armor wears and works much easier. It also will protect you better with enhanced defensive dispersion of force when struck. You will not be invulnerable, and we have lost good people even in reactive armor.”

  “You said we also have offensive weapons?”

  “The MDF-14 is standard issue…”

  “And the bullpup is not effective against Jellies. Their carapace seals up, or heals, or repairs itself—whatever you call it—too quickly after impact.”

  “Kalju, that is correct, and the basic grenades are not much better. Basic grenades irritate the Jellies, but unless you get a very good shot in, like you did, the damage is minimal. Now an amvex grenade will easily kill the Jellies, but delivery of them is problematic. We tried some amvex tipped rockets, but they were ineffective. The Jellies remotely detonated the warheads before they got close. Unsure how they did that. Too far away and the Jellies see it coming. Come in too fast and the Jellies see it coming. Their perception is hard to overcome, even with the strobes. Only way to really use an amvex is to plant it as a mine with a proximity detonator, or do like you did and hand deliver it. Frankly, we have lost too many soldiers who got too close trying to recreate your achievement. Sure, it killed the Jellie, but we lost the soldier too. Not a tradeoff we can win. I think they breed faster than we do.”

  I felt guilty, and lucky at the same time, but her comment also worried me. “The Jellies are breeding on the Marathon?”

  “I think so.” Lieutenant Gonzales noted my facial expression. She tapped me on the shoulder, “Do not start second guessing or questioning yourself. You have excellent instincts, so keep doing great in the battle.”

  “So, we have no really effective ranged weapon? I considered using a vibration saw when up close.”

  “Your reactive armor has a vibration saw built into each glove, along with a variation which does vibration drilling, which you will see when you get suited in. However, you are correct we need a ranged weapon. On this next mission, we are taking with us the MDF-A1. It is a directed energy weapon, whic
h I am told will work,” Lieutenant Gonzales smiled again at me. She then went on and explained the working details of the MDF-A1 which were very technical, and it was abundantly clear that precision details were very important to her.

  “MDF-A1 is a clumsy way to refer to this weapon. Does it have a nickname?” I asked. “Like the gimp? Or the bullpup?”

  She looked at me and her eyes lingered on mine longer than I expected. “These are new weapons, and I suppose a common name might be appropriate, do you have a suggestion?”

  My mind went back, for some reason, to that dairy farmer in his barn. I shook my head, “No suggestion, as long as it kills the Jellies. That is all that really matters. Kill the Jellies.”

  “Indeed. Our shuttle is up ahead in the hanger bay. Your gear should have already arrived there. We will all suit up and head out.”

  “Lieutenant Gonzales? Will Adams be there?” I had meant to ask about the shuttle, but the other question slipped out first.