Noreen couldn’t hold her tongue. “Parkoda,” she blurted, “the injured people can be made healthy again, to work for you, let our doctors try to fix them. You said you want more of us alive if we can take them on this ship.”
The Krall looked impassively at the screens, where the brutal executions continued.
“Those humans have shown they are not fit to live, not able to defeat an enemy, or quick enough to submit to a stronger warrior. We do not need or want them for combat tests. They failed here. It would dishonor even a Krall novice to be sent to fight such proven worthless animals.”
Next, they heard a chilling future in store not just for themselves, but also for humanity.
“Humans, marked as a novice will have testing done on Koban as warriors, or to fight in packs, to measure how we can make better our bloodlines. When we know if you can defeat some warriors, or measure how many must work together to do this, then we slowly will take your worlds from you, we will force you to fight. As our best warriors prove their worth, and breed to make better, stronger, faster cubs, our weakest will die.”
Dillon tested the waters with a question. “Koban is your home?”
“It will be home when we walk our Great Path longer. The name we give it means place of testing, first for our warriors, and now where we test humans. It is an honor we give to you, more than for many animals we have found.
“You may prove humans are skilled enough to kill our poorest warriors. If you are good enough, we will use you to remove Krall blood that is too weak to own the galaxy. If you prove no good as fighters, then be slaves to make new worlds into good nests. Your meat is poor in taste so we will not use you this way. But in combat we eat what is needed for fighting.”
The three humans shared startled looks as Parkoda rambled through his boast, if boast it was. Not only was it ominous to hear what they planned for them personally, but worse were the plans for all of Human Space. People were merely bad tasting meat animals in a pinch, for the Krall.
Dillon probed another claim the Krall had made. “Parkoda, your people have found other species to fight in the galaxy?”
“Not so many good to fight as we found. One of a hand of new animals are only meat, two of a hand are mostly good for slaves. Good fighters are used until they are gone.”
Noting that the Krall had four digits, Dillon assumed a hand meant four. Parkoda’s claim meant they simply killed and ate one fourth of the races they had encountered, enslaved half, and fought to extinction the rest.
“We seek any that are good at combat. Humans do not seem very good for that, because we see no wars between you. However, other captives say you fight with yourselves at one time. We have found bigger and stronger animals than you, but you do have many worlds, and we see you can work together. There will be good breeding rights for our clans if you can fight better.”
“How many other races have you met and fought?” Dillon asked. “Were they as smart as you are, with a high technology like yours and did you defeat them?” He was trying to exploit the Krall’s apparent tendency to brag, and he really burned to know the answers.
Parkoda made a snorting hiss sound as he reared his muzzle sharply upwards. “We have met and defeated four hands plus one before you. Humans are…,” he paused, as he seemed to think. “You will be eighteen in your numbers, for us to kill, to eat, or to make slaves.
“We have explored only one part of eight eights of our galaxy. In time, we will own all, and our wisest breeders say we may find four to the eighth races to fight. Some we found before were much more advanced in science than you, or even more than us. Those races are now all dead, slaves, or food for our cubs.”
Dillon had already surmised the Krall used a base eight number system, since they had eight digits versus our ten. Dillon wasn’t an outstanding mathematician, but his rough estimate using Parkoda’s base eight numbers seemed unbelievably high. It sounded like the Krall expected to encounter over sixty five thousand intelligent races in the Milky Way galaxy. That seemed incredible.
Counting the Krall, we had now met exactly one, and had heard the weak signals from one that was far distant. Nevertheless, the sphere of Human Space, a volume barely five hundred light years in radius, was actually a tiny portion of the one hundred twenty thousand light year diameter of the whole galaxy. The Krall apparently held a large edge in the exploration department, and their finding eighteen races supported that conclusion. Humankind was in deep trouble.
Noreen, ashen faced, after witnessing the half dozen or so murders in the two corridors, had to speak.
“We humans have looked for other races for hundreds of our years, hoping to find them, to be friends, to trade with them, to learn about them. Why can’t humans and your people live in peace? We don’t need to fight, and waste lives and material. Isn’t that inefficient?”
Parkoda glared at her, stepping closer in a swift and gliding movement. “Combat is the only true way to follow the Path!” he growled deeply. “Already we followed the Great Path for twenty five thousand of your number of years. We will be the greatest predators in the galaxy. All others are animals for us to defeat.”
He pulled back from her a step. “We cannot breed to be strongest, fastest, most deadly warriors without the purge of death to remove the weakest of our genes. We breed only the best fighters in our race, and fight for the right to breed. We were once weaker than now, long ago, and for a time paid a slave’s price for weakness. We grew strong, killed, and ate the hearts and meat of the Olt’kitapi animals, who tried to dominate us, to make us be peaceful and weak. They showed weakness when they thought we were tame animals, ready to be used. They paid for their stupidity. We will be the strongest of any race. You humans are next to help us.”
Dillon considered the Krall’s statement that they had spent twenty five thousand years on this “Great Path” they followed. He couldn’t tell if that had all been as a space faring race, or if it included pre space flight on their home world. Perhaps having to breed to improve their gene pool forced a slower pace in their expansion.
Human recorded history up to now, including ancient early civilizations, was probably about fifty five hundred years. Whatever this “Path” was for the Krall, they didn’t seem in as big hurry as humanity had been. Despite a huge lead and long experience, perhaps we might give them a run for their money. If we could survive for long enough to get better.
10. Assessment
When well over five minutes had passed without a fresh report from Jake, Mirikami realized his blunder. He had interrupted Jake in mid summary previously, and had told him to “Standby,” which Jake was now doing. It probably wasn’t critical, because the worst uncertainty of the initial boarding action was over now. Moreover, they didn’t have the ability to change the situation anyway, but the reports had felt useful.
The novice marking they received wasn’t exactly a branding, because the Krall also bore partly filled variations of the ovals, and the process commenced with almost no complications. “Almost” consisted of merely two killings. One was a mother’s hopeless attempt to protect her teenage son, who had tried to push away the tool that was the source of the stinging coldness when triggered. The Krall novice had used just one hand, talons fully extended, to tear through the chest wall and rip the heart out of the fourteen-year-old boy. His screaming mother had lunged forward to save the slumping but already dead boy, and had her own throat torn out as her reward.
The Krall calmly cleaned its hand on the clothing of the mother, as she lay dying and gurgling blood bubbles on the deck. In a horrifying gesture, it used a long purple tongue to lick a sample of the blood dripping from the boy’s heart in its hand. It made what anyone could see was a sour face at an unpleasant taste. He tossed the heart on the floor by the boy’s mother.
The warrior stepped several feet to the side of the bodies, and held his tool up as he pointed at and glared at the next man in the line, waiting his turn.
Although shaking and terrified
, that man and the others in the group stepped past the bodies and chose survival, permitting the markings without another incident. The other decks fared better and lost no one.
With the arrival of the Krall Clanship, more Krall came aboard the Flight of Fancy. Two more blue uniformed translators arrived. Parkoda proved to be the highest ranking alien on the raid. Rank was registered in their tattoos because the other two translators wore the same blue bodysuit, without any obvious marks of rank on uniforms, nor any on the black suits of the warriors.
The newcomer’s initial discussions with Parkoda, conducted in the ultrasonic range, ignored the three humans on the flight deck, except for a brief exchange in Standard with Mirikami, telling him the new translators would be stationed with the crew as they worked on ship’s systems. As the new arrivals spread through the ship, Parkoda seemed to exude a more relaxed demeanor. He proved receptive to their offers to “help” smooth the work before the Jump.
Mirikami asked if his Drive Room personnel could shut down and restart the Trap fields. Parkoda answered, “That is allowed, because the Clanship can prevent any Jump if you tried to escape. Even if you did Jump away, the warriors would kill all aboard. We also have brought a small Jump Hole machine that can destroy your ship. We will use that to hide your dead before we leave this star.”
Mirikami glanced at Noreen at this assertion. A portable Trap field to form a Jump Hole again demonstrated the Krall went well beyond human technology. However, that was already a given.
Dillon noted the Clanship, visible on a view screen, was half again as large as the Flight of Fancy, but how many Krall it carried was hard to determine. Parkoda had said they were able to transport captives back as well. That idea triggered a more important thought.
Dillon posed a question, one that he tried to form as a helpful suggestion, although he expected to hear bad news. “Parkoda, if permitted I can perhaps help you preserve more live captives at the Midwife Station, if I can talk to them first.”
The total radio silence when they first arrived had prepared him for the answer. Mirikami and Noreen looked at him, and wondered at the offer, since they were just as aware of the probable meaning of that silence.
“There is no station at this star now,” Parkoda stated. “It went into a Jump Hole. The same messages we sent to you did not convince them. They continued to fire weapons at our single ships, and tried to stop our boarding. The novice warriors were happy. All but two hands and three are dead now. Those are on the Clanship.”
Dillon had expected bad news, but only eleven survivors, out of a hundred and twenty or so support and construction people, plus at least a dozen University staff people. Their loss came as a blow.
He blocked out his feelings and made another helpful proposal. “If those humans are placed on this ship, it would make feeding them and guarding them easier for your warriors. That would reduce the chance they will lose their usefulness to you, by not forcing their deaths too soon in unmeasured combat with a novice.”
Parkoda gave him an apprising look, seemingly aware of Dillon’s probable real motive. However, he decided the offer had merit. He spoke silently into his communicator, then in Standard. “They will be sent here before you Jump. Two other captives were killed on the flight to this ship, by novices testing them. That was wasteful.”
Parkoda summoned a warrior to stand watch on the Bridge, and ordered the humans to proceed with him to the lower decks. They walked down the stairs, the Krall apparently considering the lift to be a lazy form of transportation.
They paused to see several of the burned entry points. They were told they would be permitted to repair the hull. Strictly speaking, the Flight of Fancy could do a Jump riddled with holes, and no internal air pressure. Noreen mentioned that a sudden decompression might kill some of Parkoda’s captives, and that she could supervise the repair work. Mirikami confirmed this, so Parkoda indifferently told him to have the work done.
Leaving Noreen in charge of a work team, Mirikami and Dillon followed Parkoda as he took them to a more disturbing scene.
On deck 8, Dillon and Mirikami turned a corner only to find they were in the body filled outer ring corridor they had watched on camera earlier. There were at least two dozen mangled bodies laid heaped upon one another, numbers that were hard to confirm due to detached limbs and heads. The stench of burned flesh, entrails, and released feces and urine were overpowering in the confined area.
Dillon spotted a woman’s face he recognized as a fellow scientist he’d met in a conference on Rama, preparing for this journey a month ago. He had thought Jeannette was attractive, and had spent a single but spirited night in her hotel room. Not a good memory right now, with the back of her head and one eye missing, gray matter splashed beneath the face up corpse. He retched, and added to the putrid atmosphere.
Mirikami managed to maintain a stoical face, despite his inner rage and revulsion.
Parkoda merely surveyed the gory mess and ordered the dead carried to the large cargo hold airlock, to be shoved out and into a Jump Hole before they departed. He told them to do it themselves or have some of the other crew do the work.
Mirikami, careful to appear cooperating, grasped upon the unfortunate example Dillon had presented. “Parkoda, the work would be faster and more efficient if some of my crew did the work in vacuum suits, or they may experience effects from the odor of body wastes as did my crewmember here, slowing the work.” Indicating the still hunched over Dillon, he maintained the earlier fiction that he was a crewmember.
With a toss of his muzzle in a snort of derision or humor, Parkoda confirmed vacuum suits could be used if that was faster. He told him to select the crewmembers, have them suited, and working immediately.
“Parkoda, when I tell my people to go to the cargo hold to get their space suits, will your warriors permit that?”
He responded with one of the ultrasound silent speeches at his shoulder button. Then he told Mirikami to order his people to go.
Mirikami stepped to a wall mounted com station and made an announcement for all ten Stewards to proceed to the cargo bay to don soft suits. He didn’t tell them what they were going to be doing yet, because he certainly didn’t want the passengers to overhear that missing friends or family members were dead, and being disposed of in so a callous manner. They had enough stress to manage already. No doubt some of the people who managed to escape the two corridors alive would have told others of what they saw happening, of those left behind.
“Parkoda, there will need to be more communications between crew members if we are to quickly prepare for a Jump. If I need to ask you to use your time to instruct your warriors in what to permit, this work will take longer.”
“True. And this is known to us from other captures,” He acknowledged. “But no large ships have been kept this whole. You have more crew and more spaces for them to work than I have found in other raids.
“If you are given free movement and you betray my trust, a price will be taken from your people. We can detect any Jump activity we do not allow, and our translators will listen to your talk. If we find strong disobedience, some will die, if any try to escape or to send a radio message for help, one in eight will be killed.”
Mirikami, hoping this wouldn’t be their undoing, agreed. “This is an offer of trust we will honor, and I will order all humans aboard to follow your commands. I will not allow one of us to endanger many of us, to bring us dishonor.”
Parkoda studied the little human a moment, gaining his respect in a small degree, for making such a Krall-like statement. It was the first such he had heard in his experience of eight raids. Not only had he captured many prisoners for testing on this single raid, with an operating ship, but also the animals might even prove to be cooperative pack fighters.
He had seen nothing to suggest that one on one, any of them would be a match for an experience warrior, though in limited cases an inexperienced novice might fall prey to a clever fighter, but more so to a pack of such cleve
r animals. That would more effectively cull the weaker, slower, and more stupid from the Krall bloodlines. That would be an effective use for these animals, since humans had poor tasting meat, and there was no need for billions of slaves.
After a couple of seconds, about as long as they had noticed Parkoda pausing to make any decision, he gave instructions.
“All of your people will be able to talk together, to do work and repair the ship, to feed, sleep, and live together, as I have seen those already on Koban do. It took much time for Kobani humans to earn this, and many were lost in the teaching. Perhaps your clan learns faster.”
All of the people? Mirikami had actually thought he was asking this freedom for his crew, who were more disciplined. There was definitely going to be greater risks with the civilians included, but advantages as well.
“Parkoda, when I tell them they have this honor, I will explain their obligations and the full penalty if they disobey. Does talking include using the ship intercom, to talk to those in far compartments, as we need to do for ship repair, and to make it ready for a Jump?”
“They cannot use radio signals that leave the inside of the ship,” warned Parkoda.
“I understand” Mirikami acknowledged. “I will make an announcement to all, but if my crewmember here” indicating Dillon, “can use your granted trust of honor, he can go from deck to deck, and instruct the non crewmembers directly, to enforce a stronger form of discipline than they are accustomed to obey.”
Parkoda agreed, and spoke at length into his communicator in the same eerie silent manner.
Afterwards, he added in Standard “All of the other Krall, here and on the Clanship now know that I grant your humans the novice testing rights of Ra Ka Endo, which is the status you would be granted after landing on Koban. There you would not survive outside without our protection, and have no place to escape. Your clan is no more of a threat to us on this ship because you cannot escape. We want for more threat from you humans, in truth.”
Koban Page 10
