Battle On The Marathon

by John Thornton

  Walking over to the closest guard I asked him a question, “Will you be able to summon our people back here?”

  “The public address system can do that. Use the general access code, red, yellow, blue, on any control box, and that will get you in. Just make sure it is for official business. No pranks, jokes, or lewd descriptions of what you are looking for in a companion,” he laughed a bit, and I found I laughed along with him. “Check the store a block over, they have access there.”

  After thanking the guard, I walked back up the street, and wished I could return to my sister’s home again. Instead, I went to the location for the gravity conduit, and that must have been the same store the guard had suggested. It was a shop that had been focused on pets and pet supplies before the Jellies had invaded. Now it was converted to serve as a sort-of all-around general store and distribution hub. The gravity conduit pedestal was at the corner, and some half-shelves were stocked with various goods and supplies.

  I nodded to the proprietor, as I entered, and saw a nine-section color control pad on the sidewall. It had an antique looking microphone hanging on a hook, connected into the wall via a coiled cable.

  “Is this a functional public address system?” I asked.

  “My grandchildren like it,” he replied. “Sometimes having a hard-wired connection is really an advantage. When the nonphysicality was destroyed, this system still worked. Helped us get the dams built, the aerial flotilla up and established, and the merls set into place. Defenses are important, but I can see you are a man who knows that already. You are one of those Bilokos, not a Jabberwock, but I thank you for your service to me, my wife, and family. Please use this if you need, and take whatever supplies here, with my compliments.”

  “Thank you. I am awaiting shipments coming in via the conduit,” I replied.

  “With Big Lake just down the way, we should be sending shipments via ship, and then send cargo via a car, right?” the man smiled at what was obviously a joke he told many times.

  “Thanks again,” I walked over and picked up the microphone, and pushed in the sequence on the color control pad. A green light lit up on the microphone.

  “Your attention please. This is Sergeant Kalju. Will all the Bilokos please return to the science academy. Will all the Bilokos please return to the science academy as soon as possible.”

  “Set it to repeat that message every fifteen minutes for the next hour,” the proprietor advised. “That way your people will hear the message. The public address gets to most everywhere in town, but some might be engaged in some other business and miss a single message.”

  I looked at him, and he just stepped over and entered a different sequence into the control pad. The green light flashed several times, and a small display appeared on the wall which read, “Repeat X3 Q15.”

  “Thank you again.”

  Just then the gravity conduit beeped and a parcel rose up from inside it.

  The proprietor stepped back and started to unload the parcel. “For Major Gonzales, is she your leader?”

  “Yes sir, she is. A very good one too.”

  “Looks like you are getting a series of parcels coming in,” he said.

  “Sergeant Kalju, thought you might need some help with all our gear,” Samuels said as she walked into the shop. Behind her were a half dozen other member of the Biloko Brigade. All were dressed in clean and new fatigues.

  “What happened to the reactive armor?” I asked.

  “Major Gonzales had us shed it at the science academy, I guess you missed that. Did you get some answers about your home?” Samuels asked.

  “Yes, it was great,” I said no more, as that memory of my time with Lacey was precious, private, and personal.

  The group of us carried the parcels, with the help of a small wheelbarrow which the proprietor lent to us, back to the science academy. It took about an hour to make all the trips, but we moved everything that was sent.

  The new combat armor was a hybrid of design and function. It fit even better than the reactive armor, and had more options, redundancies, and protection. The communication systems were encrypted, reinforced, hardened, and quadrupled in redundancy. I was the only one still in reactive armor, while everyone else was in clean fatigues or some even in plain and ordinary clothing.

  “Sergeant, strip out of that old armor. It will be send out with the Jabberwocks to their front lines. They have people who will quickly refurbish it and be thankful for better protection,” Major Gonzales ordered. “If you are shy, just step back in that office, there is a lavatory to the side.” Her cheerful chiding made me smile.

  I pulled off the reactive armor and put of a set of fatigues which were tossed at me. I ignored the comments that flew with the clothing.

  “Now, I see we do have thirty-five of us left. Our friends, the oceanographers, have gone to town for a short while, thanks to a convenient meal being arranged for them, so we must talk quickly,” Major Gonzales announced when the last of the soldiers arrived. “No one is to tell them about our plans. Kalju or I will speak with them. If they ask any of you what our mission is, you play the part of a dumb soldier.”

  “An easy role for me!” someone called out, and several others agreed.

  “Seriously, this is essential. Those scientists are giving us tools, but we are deciding how to use them. Our official mission, and this is all you repeat to those scientists, is that we are going to that Jellie ship to set up equipment. Nothing more needs to be said. Nothing more. And it is absolutely true. We are a small brigade, certainly, but we have an important mission. Samuels, step up here and explain our trojan-horses.”

  Samuels outlined how we would revitalize the Jellie carapaces, and partially fill them up. Then we would load five of us into each one. After finishing the refill, it would be roughly the same size as they had been in battle. Shapes were still somewhat of a mystery, but a basic globe shape could be managed by a massaging of the bumps inside it. We used the point of the arrowhead as an orientation position. Those carapaces, after we were inside, would look about the same as how we had seen them in action. The carapaces were flexible and moldable, and by installing the stimulators—that Sylvia had rigged up—we could open and close the tears we had made in them.

  “Do we have to sit in a pile of sludge inside that thing?” a soldier asked.

  “Yes. Sit, stand, lie down, whatever position you want, but yes, you will be immersed in the Jellie gunk,” Samuels replied. “I am working on a way to put an inner lining inside, but for this mission, we go with the proven thing. The shell must be filled with Jellie sludge, or a substance as close as I can recreate it. Otherwise the carapace fails, and we have no transport.”

  “How will we see out?” I asked, remembering firing the Jellie’s weapon blindly.

  “Before we re-inflate, refill, whatever, the carapace, we will punch a permalloy reinforced periscope though it. Then when it is sealed and inflated, that will be a fluid-tight fixture and allow a measure of sight to the outside. Your combat suit will be linked via insulated cable and the views from the periscope will be on your optics display. The combat suits will protect you from the gunk, and work as your spacesuit once you are outside the trojan-horse. You each will get a crash course in operating the carapace. Think of it a Jellie’s spacesuit. They like sludge, we like air. So, us gas-breathers will be masquerading as Jellies returning to their ship.”

  There were some moans and groans from the Bilokos, but overall, they looked to me to be intrigued.

  “Just how do we fly it?”

  Samuels looked to Major Gonzales who stepped over and said, “We can make them stumble about on the ground, and sort-of swim in liquids. Flight in space, well, that we have not figured out yet. Right now, in the appropriate hanger bay, three engineering automacubes are building a sling shot, or call it a catapult. With that, we will be launching each trojan-horse in a free flight shot across Journey’s shell to the Jellie ship. It is currently attached to the exterior hull of Foreigner, a
nd we are not sure when it will be moving again.”

  “How do we know where the Jellie ship is located?” one of the soldiers asked. “Will they just see we have highjacked their carapaces?”

  Major Gonzales answered, “Someone at the MDF has observed that Jellie ship for some time. It is located at an advantageous place right now but we need to move quickly. We will turn on their own purple lights, and impersonate the movements which have been recorded of Jellies in space, and their speed is not excessive. The sling will mimic that as precisely as we can. You will be shot directly toward the Jellie ship. Once contact is made, we expect the Jellie ship will open its sides and allow us inside. Apparently, the Jellie ship has been under observation for some time, and I am told this will work. In the Jellie’s minds, they will just be welcoming back their own.”

  No one said a word. It was an awkward silence, but Major Gonzales let it happen. She did not rush this mission briefing, even though the oceanographers could come back at any moment.

  And that, Ryan, leads me to where we did our greatest mission. I will tell you about that when I next get time to record in this log.

  8

  Trojan-Horses

  Chicago was an urban setting. I think I told you about that before, right? Well, Ryan, I have some time again to relate my story. The big jump is planned and a date has been set. Not much longer to wait, and then we will engage in that. I like our chances of success. The Major, Samuels, and others have triple checked everything, and now it is just a matter of waiting for the right time.

  I did not really review what I had been recording, but it was back about a month ago, I see from the date stamp. I know I had told you basically about the trojan-horse plan. If I repeat myself, forgive me. I am really tired right now, and sleep escapes me, so I might cover the same recollection.

  In that science academy, Major Gonzales laid out our plan, and we put it into operation. There were thirty-five of us who could go, and the seven carapaces. We got some gravity nullifiers and put them on sledges and built a better method to carry the carapaces. We had two yellow transport automacubes which had been tasked to serve as our haulers. After we had installed the periscopes, the stimulators, and the translation devices, those carapaces were more filled out than when we had brought them. I suppose if you want all the details of the various technologies, Samuels might have made a log about that. She is great with details.

  We tested one carapace to make sure it would work as we planned. We filled it with the synthetic sludge that Samuels had devised, and I volunteered to be the solder to test it out. I climbed inside and activated the stimulators which caused the rip in the carapace to heal over. That was more than a little creepy, but I figured I could use a vibration saw and cut my way out if I needed to. I turned off the stimulator, and the rip reappeared. It was not a permanent healing or even like a weld. I pulled and squeezed on the bumps, being careful to avoid the square one that fired the weapons, and turned on the purple glow. I could still see via the periscope, but with a limited angle of sight. The communication links also were able to punch messages through that carapace, using the periscope as an antenna, and I could speak to Major Gonzales.

  “Looks like it is sealed inside here. Claustrophobic, for sure,” I reported, “but the periscope helps. Is it sealed enough for use in space?”

  “Sergeant Kalju, I see no leaks out here,” Stridell replied. His voice was excited, but not as thrilled as Samuels.

  “Do a communication check with each Biloko,” Major Gonzales ordered. “No mistakes, and no isolation this time.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I ran through the entire roster of all of the others.

  “Excuse me Major,” Lawrence said in his deep and husky voice, “Would it be wise to inflate a second one, just to test communication links between two of these things? I mean, maybe it would be fine, but I sure would feel more secure if we knew you could hear each other while inside separate trojan-horses.”

  “Good idea, private. A very good idea,” Major Gonzales affirmed.

  “In my simulations, and dry runs there is no problem,” Samuels softly said back, “but whatever you want to do Major.”

  “Do a quick test with two,” Major Gonzales replied.

  Sometime during that test, Dietermeyer came back from the gravity conduit with three additional parcels. I did not see him, for that periscope gave only limited views, but when the second communication test was over, and I had slipped out of the first trojan-horse, he was standing there with three miniature central memory cores.

  They were about a third or less the size of a regular central memory core. Each was about thigh high, twenty-five centimeters in diameter, and shaped like a column. Inside that was the liquid where the intellectual activity of an artificial intelligence did its processing. Unlike, the typical central memory cores I knew, these housed a greenish fluid, along with the swirling rhombus at its center. Vigorous bubbles traveled in the middle of that conductive fluid, and I always think of those bubbles as ideas in the mind of the artificial intelligence system. I know, that is a silly thought, but I visualize it that way. On the outer surface of that clear permalloy column were four brass colored rings encircling it. Those horizontal rings were evenly spaced about its height. The top of each memory core had a small array for broadcasting wirelessly, as well as an access panel, and access port. At the base was the energy unit which powered the memory core.

  Dietermeyer was still in fatigues and said, “Meet our companions, MC12, MC87, and MC223. They just arrived. The MDF ordered them, and we have orders to find ways to take them along.

  “Understood,” Major Gonzales replied. She was wearing the new combat armor, but had her helmet hooked on the suit, not over her head. “We will link them in a network to give us a replacement for the nonphysicality’s lattice. One will go with me, one with Kalju, and the other with Samuels.” She went over and adjusted all three of the central memory cores.

  Her movements caused me to order everyone into their combat armor. Something was happening, I could tell from her body language.

  Earle and Sylvia came out from their laboratory and stood looking at us. Major Gonzales went over and spoke to them, and there was a lot of arm waving, gesticulating, and angry faces on both the oceanographers, but after a few moments, they settled down. Whatever the Major said had mitigated their anger, and while they were still glaring at each other, they were not hostile toward her.

  As the Major approached me I asked, “What did you say to them?”

  “What they needed to hear.”

  “And?” I prodded.

  “And we will hook up the translation devices. I got a short phrase-list from them of things we can say to the Jellies to open conversations. I then promised to link directly to this laboratory after placement of the translation devices,” Major Gonzales was firm and kept walking right past me.

  “You lied?” I asked.

  She turned around quickly. “Sergeant, do not offend me, please. I did not lie. I fully intend to do just as I said, but I did not say all that I intend to do. If we take prisoners, they can talk to them. If not, well, then I will still link the translation devices in place. There are Jellies all over the Marathon, and not just on that alien vessel. Those people will get their chance to talk to the Jellies. The battle, however, will be on the Jellie’s ship this time, not mine.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Major Gonzales snapped her helmet into place and addressed all of us on a frequency that I knew the oceanographers would never hear.

  “We are leaving as soon as everything is loaded. Make sure to secure those compressed air tanks. Bring all your ammunition, gear, and whatever else you need. I doubt we will be coming back here anytime soon.”

  Just then from outside, one of the security automacubes with the rocket launcher on it, the merls, fired off a volley of defensive rockets. It was loud, and I used that noise to adjust my own exterior microphones.

  “The Jabberwocks are being attacked aga
in,” Major Gonzales reported. “The local commander says we need to move quickly. Our passage to the shell is open. Bilokos, head on out!”

  And so, we loaded up those portable central memory cores, twenty-eight canisters of compressed atmosphere, and all our other gear. The sledges were overloaded, with three Jellie carapaces on one, along with the three central memory cores, and four Jellie carapaces on the other. The carapaces were all three-quarters of the way filled with that imitation Jellie gunk fluid Samuels had invented. Each sledge also had a tank of that stuff to top off the carapaces when we got to the hanger bay. Thus, we moved out of Journey’s biome, and into the shell, heading for the hanger bay.

  As we moved, several more of the merls fired off defensive rockets. The battle was continuing in Journey. I set my optics to follow one of those rockets and it raced so quickly into the sky. I could never have followed it with a naked eye. Then, because of the magnification I could use, I saw one of the lighter-than-air defensive reconnaissance targeting platforms. A Jellie weapon detonated some distance away from that, just after the streak of that defensive rocket shot past. “Good job Lacey!” I said, but my communications were shut down, so only I heard that. I was proud of my sister’s accomplishments.