Koban

by Stephen W Bennett

  From the galley screen, they glimpsed one new Krall coming up the axial stairwell, pausing for an instant to scan the galley area. Jake finished his short report to say that a larger radar target had come into range, and was closing rapidly.

  There hadn't been enough time to tell the AI specifically what to report, and the inability to alter his instructions or ask him questions was maddening.

  Abruptly the Krall watching them stood stiffly upright just as the second alien sprang lightly over the top of the stairwell, clearing the waist high rail easily. There was barely a whisper of sound.

  This warrior was marginally larger than the first, and it was wearing a bright blue body suit and similar weapons belt and pistols, but his skin tone was considerably redder than the first alien’s, much less gray tones.

  He looked at the three humans. It lips rippled in that strange manner as it spoke broken but understandable Standard, showing a brief glimpse of a sharply pointed purplish tongue, behind yellowish shark’s teeth. “I do not need your death now, my enemy. Rest, lower your arms and relax.”

  The Krall's pronunciation was rapid, heavy on bass frequencies, but understandable. The three humans lowered their tiring arms with relief.

  The new arrival turned to the other Krall. Each seemed to sprout a small shell shaped appendage on each side of their heads, located slightly lower than where human ears would be. The little appendages pivoted to cup towards the other warrior, rather like oval bat ears.

  Dillon, who had been studying both aliens, while avoiding a stare, hadn't seen any sign of external ears previously. Evidently, they had been concealed below an oval layer of different textured skin, at the sides where a human’s upper neck would be. He wondered why they had been recessed until now.

  Both began mouth and lip movements, as if speaking, but Dillon couldn’t hear anything. After a few seconds of this, their ears instantly flattened or withdrew again, leaving a smooth textured oval surface. The original Krall warrior stiffened and raised his left hand chest high, fingers splayed, and for a brief instant the four talons extended farther, each about three centimeters long. Retracting his claws to the shorter talons seen before, the soldier leaped over the stair rail. He disappeared in a flash of quiet movement.

  Their facial pantomime could have been some sort of visual signaling, but Dillon suspected the frequency range of Krall speech and hearing was considerably broader than that of humans. The external ears apparently extended when they used ultrasonic frequencies, because they didn’t use them when they spoke Standard, in a basso voce.

  The second Krall continued to stand casually, his side to them, showing little of the caution of the other soldier. He continued to appear to ignore them as he inspected the Bridge area, walking toward the consoles and screens.

  Despite stocky and slightly bowed legs, the Krall moved in an oddly graceful gliding motion that somehow conveyed the impression of strength and agility. Its movements reminded Dillon of Earth's nearly extinct jungle cats, rather than the jerkier motions of a lizard or reptile, which their lightly scaled skin and facial features might have suggested. The alien appeared more interested in the control consoles and view screens than the humans on the command deck.

  Standing between the two command couches, he finally looked over at the three humans. “Which of my enemies here is the...,” it searched for a word, “is called a clan leader of space ships?”

  Mirikami answered. “I am the Captain of this vessel. My name is Tetsuo Mirikami.”

  “Yes. The human arrogance of two names not earned. Your title for clan leader of a ship is Captain.” He continued to stare at Mirikami. “You are small, like a cub! You speak also for these clan members?” He pointed to the much taller Dillon, and even Noreen, who was also taller than her Captain was.

  “I speak for every human on my ship,” Mirikami answered. “That is the responsibility of a Captain.”

  “You hide your strengths well little human, to lead so many” he said cryptically. “Like a wise warrior. Perhaps I may test those strengths. I have the title Harzax Kopandi. I am told this means ‘Measures the Enemy' in your language. I was spawned of great Tanga clan of Merkrall, and I am named Parkoda, an earned name, not a cub’s given name. Call on me when you are ready to die in honorable challenge.” He made it sound like a polite dinner invitation.

  There was a clear sense of pride as Parkoda had identified himself. When he named his clan he had extended a claw to point to an oval shaped tattoo, with small-multicolored markings inside, placed on the upper part of his chest, at the base of the thick neck. There had been a similar marking, though less ornate, on the other Krall. Dillon suspected they were signs of rank, or perhaps of family identification, if the clan references were any hint.

  Parkoda, noticing Dillon's scrutiny, moved to within a meter of him. “You are near the size of a Krall before it becomes a novice, are you warrior trained?” Without warning, the left hand moved with blinding speed. A single razor sharp claw lightly raked Dillon's right cheek.

  Noreen sucked in her breath as Dillon was slashed, drawing a sharp look from the Krall, the red centers of his eyes boring into her. She carefully avoided making direct eye contact, looking instead at the view screens.

  Startled, Dillon had managed to check his instinct to pull back, or even to raise a hand to the cut. He remembered Doushan's warning. A small amount of blood began oozing slowly from the three-inch shallow scratch. It was relatively painless, much like a shallow razor cut.

  Returning a cooler gaze to Dillon, “You may have trained as a warrior. You control good when to fight now means your death, or you may not know of war. No difference, you will soon show if you know how to fight. Most humans are like slaughter animals in battle, but some have small skills, and can learn to work as a pack. We may yet find your race worthy for use.”

  Just then, Parkoda’s left internal ear extended alone, cupping downwards. He stood silently for a moment then touched a three inch blue disk on its left shoulder strap. Dillon had thought the disk was some sort of uniform decoration. Again, this time at close range, he observed the Krall engage in an undetectable conversation. It turned its head slightly in the direction of the disk, lips rippling rapidly, all but silently, except for a soft parchment sliding on wood sound as the lips moved over those teeth.

  Parkoda finished and tapped a claw against the communications device, as the ear also folded away. He opened his mouth in an unnerving toothy grin. “I will rise higher in Tanga clan when I deliver you to Koban. There are many healthy enemies here, good breeding rights for me. Never has even eight raids captured so many.”

  He changed the subject, “My Clanship comes. Will this ship Jump again, human?” The last was directed to Mirikami.

  “We can Jump if we can restore our Trap fields and close them. I need all of my crew to assist.” That wasn't true, but he didn't want the Krall to think that any of his people were unimportant.

  Parkoda seemed satisfied with the answer. “We will let you restore your ‘Traps’ as you call them. Your crew may work for you, if they still live. Many often die opposing us. All healthy humans will come if you can Jump your ship. My Clanship will carry only your strongest if not. The weakest and wounded stay and die.” That came as a flat statement of fact.

  9. The Marking

  “Tell your crew-clan to go to any warrior when I order, to be released from challenge. We give their markings as a novice.” He waved vaguely at his own tattoo.

  Mirikami spoke up. “I am in charge of my crew, I would go first.” Whatever would be done to his crew, he wanted to experience it first.

  Parkoda gave him an apprising look. Then, with his right hand, he removed a cylindrical tube dangling from his harness, flaring to an oval of several inches at one end. “This tool will place a mark on you, like a cub’s entry into testing for warrior status, as novice. A warrior will not offer challenge of humans marked this way. Refusing a warrior’s command is same as a challenge, and he may attack you if
he wants. Without the mark, you are as a food animal, for slaughter as a Krall may wish without a reason.

  “Hold arms down with hands open and come before me, but do not look into my eyes, or it will be as if you offer a challenge.” He ordered the Captain.

  Mirikami, arms straight down, hands open, immediately walked to within a step of the Krall and halted, staring into his chest rather than higher, definitely not into the ebony surrounded red glow of his eyes.

  Parkoda's left hand flashed out a set of razor sharp talons toward Mirikami's throat, then as quickly back. A flap of cloth fell from the captain's tough uniform material, exposing an area of the chest just below the nape of his neck. There wasn’t a drop of blood, proving how deadly and accurate his slashing movements could be,

  Parkoda made some sort of adjustment via small colored plates along the cylinder’s side. Speaking as if formally, he declared, “I mark you as unranked novice for all Krall to see.” He solemnly placed the cylinder against Mirikami's upper chest, and pressed a small colored plate on the side. There was a hiss and Mirikami jerked slightly, but his poker-faced expression did not change.

  When the cylinder was withdrawn, there was a thin black line, forming a near palm sized oval drawn on Mirikami's upper chest at the base of his throat, slightly higher that it was wide. It was the same size as the one on the Krall's chest, but was empty of color or markings.

  “No warrior will kill you without your challenge unless attacked, or you disobey his orders. Fighting will wait for you on Koban, the testing ground.”

  He next pointed to Dillon. “Come before me!” Parkoda apparently assumed all three humans on the bridge were part of the crew. It didn't seem advantageous to correct that impression, so Dillon stepped forward.

  He went through the exact same ritual as had Mirikami, followed by Noreen a moment later. The marking felt extremely cold as it was applied, and left a mild burning sensation afterwards.

  “Now instruct your crew-clan to step before any Krall with both hands open and down. All who do so will be marked. Can you instruct them from here?”

  “Yes, but I need to use the control console, if I have your permission to touch that. I also wish to instruct the passengers to follow the crew’s example. They are not my crewmembers, but under my protection. After they accept your marks they will be more willing to cooperate.”

  “I must hear all that is spoken,” stated Parkoda, in no uncertain terms.

  “Of course, Sir.”

  Jake was just starting a summary report, and Mirikami needed him to setup connections for the ship wide broadcast. This led Mirikami to make a small mistake, one he didn’t realize immediately. If he switched on the internal intercom at the console Jake’s voice would be heard, he didn't want Parkoda to hear anyone speaking, or even to suspect Jake’s existence.

  “Do it now!” ordered the Krall.

  Mirikami couldn’t hesitate, since he believed his passengers needed to receive the protection his crew received from being attacked. As Mirikami walked to his console, Parkoda mouthed an unheard message into his shoulder communicator, all the while watching the Captain intently at the control console.

  Jake was early in his summary when Mirikami keyed up the intercom manually. Therefore, his first words were immediately aimed at the computer, trying to time it before Jake’s next words. He hoped the Krall wouldn’t understand to whom he spoke. “Jake, standby!”

  If the AI continued with the announcement, and talked over the Captain’s words, it would probably apologize, or ask some question, which would come out of the small intercom speaker on the console for Parkoda to hear. Thankfully, the AI’s computer quick reaction instantly went silent at the command to standby.

  Mirikami was free to make the announcement.

  “This is a ship wide announcement.” That would tell Jake to relay the Captain’s voice to every compartment. “Attention passengers and crew. The Krall, the aliens that are our captors, have ordered us to prepare the ship for a Jump, or else to be transferred to a ship of theirs that is about to join us.

  “We want to remain aboard the Flight of Fancy, so we will Jump to where we are instructed to go. I believe crewmembers will be permitted to return to work stations, perhaps under guard, but only after receiving an identifying marking, a sort of tattoo placed below the base of the neck at the top of the chest. Our captors have the means to apply this marking. This is very important for your safety, because it provides you a small measure of security from attack when in the presence of their warriors. After each crewmember has received this tattoo, I ask that every passenger do exactly the same, and for the same reason, your safety. Cooperate with every demand or instruction of any Krall, and I have reason to believe you will not be harmed.

  “The tattoo is not painful when applied, and the Krall themselves wear one on their upper chest, in plain sight. First Officer Renaldo, Doctor Martin, and I, have all received the marking, and it is very similar to the mark on the chest of each Krall, but is a black ringed oval empty of any symbols.” He thought of the handful of youngsters aboard, none younger than early teens.

  He looked to Parkoda, deliberately leaving the ship audio Link live and asked “May we hold the arms of our youngest children when this is done for them? They have no discipline yet and might fight and die wastefully.” Then he added, “But they can be trained if allowed to live and learn.”

  He was slipping in a warning and instruction to everyone, disguised as a suggestion to Parkoda.

  Parkoda didn’t hesitate, “It is allowed.” He again spoke into his disk.

  Mirikami continued his announcement, “Exercise caution as you walk toward the nearest Krall soldier, and do it exactly in the manner I will now describe to you.” He told them what to do, and offered a reassuring comment.

  “Observe the Krall’s own tattoo’s location because they will apply your tattoo in the same location. It will first feel cold, and burn a little afterwards. The Krall leader says the marking gives you limited protection from an unprovoked attack or challenge. Continue to be very careful at all times, and to obey their instructions.

  “There have been a large number of deaths, and I'm deeply sorry to have failed in my duty to protect you. However, as long as I am alive I will do whatever is possible to see that as many of you as possible survive. All I know of our destination is that it is called Koban, as soon...” Mirikami was brutally smashed aside by a casual backhanded swipe as Parkoda took a step towards him.

  The Captain flew several meters through the air before striking the deck with a grunt, then sliding to the outer bulkhead. It had been a mere flick of the Krall’s arm.

  Feeling like he’d been hit by a truck, stunned and bruised, Mirikami rose on unsteady legs, his right arm momentarily numb. He courageously walked back to stand near the console, determined to show no injury. Facing the Krall, eyes firmly on his chest, he said, “I will obey your orders. I was trying to ensure a fast and efficient transfer of this ship and the humans on board to your chosen destination. Was that a wrong thing to do?” The mike was still open, so everyone could hear.

  Parkoda seemed to consider for a moment before responding. “You spoke to warn and to protect weaker clan members. That is not efficient. The weak will die to leave the strong.”

  Dillon saw that Mirikami was trying to apply Doushan's strategy of appealing to the Krall's penchant for speed and efficiency. He took a chance and interceded. If there were a risk to anyone in this tact, losing the Captain would certainly not improve chances for everyone else.

  “Parkoda”, called Dillon. The Krall's attention was instantly on him, so he looked slightly to the side. “I wish to help. Humans work faster when they understand what is expected of them. If a human causes a Krall to kill him only because the human does not understand what you want, the process of collecting live prisoners will not be efficient.”

  Since the Krall hadn't smashed him aside or killed him yet, Dillon continued. “These humans here know nothing of the K
rall. If a human believed you will kill them, no matter what they do, then they will not do what you tell them to do quickly. There is no advantage for survival in that case. Do the Krall think different?”

  The Krall seemed somewhat bemused. “If humans are told how they can survive, they will better work for the Krall? A Krall cub is not told how to survive, it learns or dies, and a Krall will never work for an enemy.”

  “Humans are not as advanced as the Krall.” Answered Dillon, “They want to live, but must believe there is a chance to survive before they will work harder for you. To work when there is no hope of living is wasteful to humans.” Dillon didn't know what Parkoda’s experience with humans was. Most people would do anything just to avoid serious pain, let alone claw and fight for the last breath of life. However, it was also true that some few people might react exactly as he had just described. He was gambling that Parkoda didn't have much of a grasp of the variation in human nature.

  The gamble worked. Parkoda wanted his prize catch bad enough to accept this logic. “Tell your clan mates how to survive, but they will repay me with instant obedience and hard work.”

  Noting that the mike had been active, and hopeful the impromptu words were picked up, Mirikami finished his announcement. He assured the passengers and crew they would be safer if they received the tattoo, and to not provoke any warrior by directly staring at them. He switched off the intercom with his left hand, as feeling started to return to his right arm.

  Parkoda again addressed the shoulder communicator disk, and the three humans hoped that the others would soon be safer, relatively speaking.

  Noreen suddenly uttered a slight gasp. Dillon noticed where she was looking, and saw Krall walking along each of the two gory blood stained corridors, visible on the main screen. They were passing among the already dead, and the injured. They were killing the wounded, with casual neck snaps or thrusts of short knives to the back of the skulls, or cutting throats.