Koban: The Mark of Koban (8 page)

With his superior infrared night vision, Daktor was able to
make out the silhouettes of his returning warriors. Their bodies blazing with
the heat of the energy they had been required to use by so much running, on top
of the destruction of the human compound, and the slaughter of some of its
inhabitants. Now it was time to find and kill the remainder of that hiding prey.

Two new powerful engine roars suddenly sounded, from
opposite sides of the landing pad. There were two more of the giant monster
trucks! This trap wasn’t finished yet. Only this time Daktor knew more about
their weaknesses. The hydraulic lines that controlled the truck’s steering and
transmission were vulnerable to the Krall’s hand weapons. Now that they knew where
to shoot, simple pistols rounds could stop them much farther out, before they
could damage the ship again.

The trucks were still only huge noisy infrared silhouettes
in the dark, when the remaining seventy warriors arrived. There were only
seventy novices because they left some trapped or severely injured warriors
behind. They were of course aware of the command change, and as they were
reloading, the new commander described the weak spots of the disabled truck the
humans had just used to ram the Clanship.

He pointed into the darkness, where the warm glow of hot
engines revealed the two oncoming threats, explaining what they meant. He had
time, so he led them to the front of the dead truck and fired several
demonstration rounds into the exposed lines, so they would know how to stop the
massive trucks.

Instead of waiting for the trucks to get closer, he sent a
band of warriors out to meet each of the enormous enemy transports. These would
not reach
his
ship.

The shooting commenced as the shadows approached, and as
before, the engine sounds became louder as the trucks labored to keep moving as
they lost the fluids that were their life’s blood.

Except that the rumble and vibration of their approach had
not lessened, it was increasing. As they came near, he saw that the outline
looked different. At first, he thought these were a different kind of large
transport. Then he realized the simple and effective thing the humans had done.
The giant trucks were in reverse, a large pile of rocks in the back and the
nearly indestructible tires were the only targets for their weapons.

He used his com set to order them to run around to the front
side, to shoot at the hydraulic lines he had told them to hit. However, it was
already too late to prevent them from reaching the Clanship. They were not
moving as fast in reverse as the first truck had been in forward when it had
started, but they were going to hit straight on this time.

Then, in a surprise action, one of the Clanship’s heavy
lasers blazed across the short distance to one of the trucks. Daktor was elated;
his K’Tal had obviously been preparing for the repositioning operation, and had
seen the threat.

The ravening beam vaporized several warriors that had
climbed onto the vehicle in an effort try to change its direction. Those were
acceptable and honorable losses. Except the beam merely shattered a few the rocks
from sudden thermal expansion, slagged some dirt, and melted soft spots in the
huge truck’s thick metal bed where the edges were exposed. It could not reach
anything vital below that heavy deck.

He realized they couldn’t stop them. Daktor was forced to
step aside, firing his pistols without effect as one truck swept by him and
crashed thunderously into the Clanship. That was followed a second or two later
by an equal crash on the opposite side. If anything, the second impact may have
prevented the toppling of the ship. The heavy laser cut off, as the K’Tal no
doubt was rushing down to see the damage.

Daktor didn’t need a K’Tal to tell him that the Clanship
wasn’t going to lift after these more damaging double impacts. He could see
damage to the main thruster column down the center of the Clanship. He ordered The
K’Tal stop at the third deck and open the hangar bay for the stored shuttle. He
would use that small craft to search out the humans, carry extra ammunition,
and bring the fusion bottle powered, portable plasma cannons this time. His now
grounded warriors would root out and savage any human they could find.

It was a tribute to the new leader’s fierce desire to exact
revenge that he initially ignored a question from one of his octet leaders. It
was also a weakness in leadership. One which led to his downfall.

Insistent, the octet leader repeated his question, as
ammunition was unloaded to be placed inside the shuttle once it was out. “Where
are the humans that drove these giant transports? There are no bodies inside
the small control rooms.”

“They must have jumped out,” Daktor suggested.

The octet leader didn’t think so. “The transports changed
direction to stay on track to strike the Clanship and they accelerated. They
did this when they were close enough we would have seen humans leave. Where are
they?”

Daktor had an ugly premonition. He recalled the canyon
ambush that he had only heard about. His premonition proved exceedingly
accurate.

****

Will, a remote control unit for a Big Dump still on his lap,
was looking at a video image from the first truck’s cab roof camera. “I think
all of them are next to the ship now Sir, unloading ammunition.”

“Good!” Sanji had wanted all the rats in the trap. He
pressed the radio detonator.

All three trucks simultaneously vanished in a splatter of
large heavy metal fragments that cut down anything the three immense explosions
did not destroy directly. The rocks covering the explosive pallets blasted out
of the concave truck beds as if from a shaped charge. Two of the trucks had backed
up to the ship, and their boulders struck it squarely.

The rocks and truck beds acted much like giant pellets from
immense claymore mines. The high velocity stones and fragments tore through the
heavy hull plates. The Clanship now resembled a sieve more than a Jump ship. Every
Krall in sight had shredded or vaporized in the triple balls of flames and
debris.

Except for eradicating the handful of injured or pinned
Krall in the canyon, the people of Gem Town, what was left of it, had
exterminated these particular vermin. At a terrible personal cost, however. After
a rough head count at the Pipe, they knew these monsters had slaughtered probably
fifteen thousand of their people. Moreover, there were fifteen other cities and
towns still under attack on the Nook. There was no sign they planned to leave,
and no way to make them.

****

A day later, Telour calculated that his raiders had killed
perhaps two million humans. The despicable creatures had proven adept at
distractions, misdirection, creative ways of hiding, and in a limited number of
cases, a startling ability to strike back.

Other than the destruction of a Clanship, the counterattacks
were trivial. That one anomaly was largely due to an incompetent commander, who
was replaced in the field after excessive blunders left the ship vulnerable. Telour
had randomly selected him from a pool of equal status sub leaders. He would not
make that error again, no matter how much of a rush he was in to form a raiding
party.

Humans had only killed six hands of warriors on the rest of
the entire planet. He had lost more warriors from recklessness, being careless,
or simply stupid. They improved the Krall gene pool simply by their loss.

They extracted nearly on schedule, although shuttles had to
make numerous pickups of warriors too far from their Clanships to return
quickly. Telour had been tempted to leave them to their fate. He was convinced
otherwise when several ship commanders noted that the late returns were the
warriors with the highest kill ratios.

Overall, the raid accomplished what the clan had wanted, and
the atrocities he had requested were common enough to spur the passive humans
into greater preparations when they raided the next planet. Humans would have
to be pushed hard and often, to make them increase their warrior kill ratios if
they were to match Krall expectations.

His report to the clan leaders noted that novice warriors
would have to learn to fight smarter against humans. This was a different
direction than had been the norm, where outright strength and speed were the
only criterion for status increases, and proving breeding potential. It would
take time. Something the Krall had in abundance.

“You don’t really have the time to do this, Tet.” Maggi
repeated for the nth time.

“Besides, going to meet
Governor
Cahill on her own turf
is a mistake. That egotistical hack had the hubris to push her supporters into
giving her that grandiose title. It’s a deliberate attempt to make her appear your
superior.” This was another of Maggi’s pet peeves that Mirikami had heard
repeatedly.

“I’m not a politician Maggi,” Tet replied yet again, with a
sigh. “I never will be. I’m uncomfortable because all of you started calling me
Commander. I certainly don’t want to be Governor of anything.” 

Although it was essentially an uncontested election, the
remaining five thousand six hundred residents of Koban Prime had in fact
appointed Captain Mirikami, from the Flight of Fancy, as “Commander” of the
former Krall compound. They foisted the leadership role and title on the
unpresuming Spacer, who reluctantly accepted the position.

The residents now were calling the former Krall prison compound
Prime City, a change from Koban Prime, in reaction to the naming of the other
larger Krall compound, Hub City. The term Kobani, for all humans living on
Koban, was mainly restricted to use by the residents of Prime City. The nearly twenty thousand Hub City residents did not want to call Koban home or refer to
themselves as Kobani, despite the near certainty they would all live here for
the remainder of their long lives.

Noreen backed Maggi up, “Tet, it’s true, Cahill could have
called herself Mayor, as even her supporters first proposed.
She
suggested
the title of Governor to them, explaining that they had the larger population, larger
dome, and the moral high ground. A Commander should report to the highest
authority on Koban, not the other way around.”

“I am
not
reporting to Ana Cahill,” Tet emphasized.
“I’m coordinating our mutual support, and offering cooperation in areas that
are not related to the primary stumbling block in our partnership. I’m not
asking them to support the genetic modifications we have used, and will use, in
our plans to survive here long term.”

Roni Jorl’sn, his usual shuttle pilot, was listening through
the open cockpit hatch. As “Commander,” Mirikami always encouraged her to offer
her opinions, so she offered one now. “
We
know that you are not
‘reporting’ to Cahill, Sir. However the
perception
that you are is just
as damaging to your authority.”

“Roni, I wasn’t elected to office in Hub City, Cahill was, and I really
don’t
have authority over her, or the residents there.”
He felt outnumbered by his own people.

“How did I manage to get myself alone on a long flight with
three obstinate Ladies?” he complained. “I need a male’s perspective to back me
up.”

Maggi had a comeback for that argument. “Thad is a hell of a
lot more adamant against your personally making this trip than we are.”

“Dillon too,” Noreen chimed in, affirming that her lover’s
opinion matched Thad’s.

Groaning over his plight, Mirikami addressed his pilot,
“Can’t you pick the pace up Roni? I’d rather face
three
ignorant
Cahill’s than have to deal with even one of you three for two more hours.” He
grinned to assure them he was kidding, but only slightly.

“Sir, with one dressed moosetodon and two yaks in the sling,
this is the best speed we can make. Frankly, despite the longer trip, I’m glad
there wasn’t room inside for the meat this time. Yaks really stink when they
aren’t skinned and dressed first.”

“Glad I’m better company than a dead yak,” Mirikami grumbled.

“The smell
is
marginally better, but you aren’t
nearly as bright.” Maggi chuckled over her little zinger.

The next two hours were going to pass very slowly for
Mirikami.

****

Meanwhile, back in the mad scientist’s den, Aldry Anderfem
was speaking sternly to Dillon and Thad.

“The Earth normal animal trials were satisfactory my Gentle Men
so far as the physiological side is concerned, but if anything goes seriously
wrong with your minds, we can’t just euthanize you and serve you for dinner.”
The two men had just volunteered for a human trial.

She was explaining to them that implementation of the most
recent Koban genetic insertions had been physically successful in animals. The
scientists had tested on pigs, cattle, sheep, goats, and of all things to find
out here, kangaroos. The Krall brought along shipments of cargo when they
capture Jump ships destined for recently settled Rim worlds. To the aliens some
of the cargo consisted of humans; some was the livestock humans ate, or animals
they wanted to have around, with only unimportant distinctions from the Krall’s
point of view.

Indifferent, they brought them all to Koban. Unfortunately,
dogs did not survive capture because they didn’t
like
the Krall, and
refused to control their aggression. The people on Koban had no house pets, as
of yet.

Dillon, a scientist with respectable, even exceptional genetic
academic credentials, knew about the results. He had participated in the
necropsies of the test animals, and had carefully examined and tested the
parallel superconducting nerves. Those had grown in adjacent to the native
nervous systems, after the gene insertion via man-modified delivery viruses.