Koban

by Stephen W Bennett

  They had asked for gloves and hoods to be made, which left only their faces uncovered, and the helmets would protect those. They too had grenades and three claymores they could trigger remotely. They had made small flotation platforms to hold spare ammunition and their remotes, which they would conceal beneath pulled-up marsh grass.

  The other four had elected to use removable ropes to rappel down the canyon walls from the ridge tops, two people on each side, to reach a matching pair of hard to reach caves. The caves had formed when a softer layer of rock had eroded away over thousands of years, as the river had cut its way down through the harder rock of the uplifting future ridge.

  The slit-like entrances now were about two hundred feet higher than the swifter flowing river below, and several hundred feet from the top. The two sixty foot wide crevices, four feet high and forty to fifty feet deep, could each provide cover of the opposite side cave for mutual support. The claymore mine each person carried down would help defend the entrance if a Krall tried to enter. Their plan was frankly to let the two better equipped and more aggressive ridge and woods teams score a kill, or at least draw the Krall’s attention while they waited out the day and night in a secure hard to search location.

  The shuttle would make at least four or five trips the next morning, starting at first light. It would drop off the four groups with additional supplies, and take whatever else they decided was needed at the last minute.

  The general attitude in the dome was that this was the best-prepared set of fighters to go out in years. There was a guarded sense of optimism that some of these selectees might make it back with immunity, entirely because of the more aggressive attitude fostered by Mirikami and Dillon, and due to the defensive surprises that the Krall had yet to experience.

  It was ironic that a few people were heard to say that once the Krall shared briefings of the combat techniques the human’s used this time, that later teams would have less of a surprise advantage. It might have been better to take their chances this time.

  However, that was based on a completely unproven ability to lure the Krall into fatal mistakes. No one knew how practical and effective homemade explosives and weapons would be against a seemingly invulnerable enemy. No one actually offered to swap places.

  The Koban Committee gathered for a private dinner that evening. They were served their food in a small conference room where they could ensure privacy. Chief Steward Nory Walters was the last server to leave, closing the double doors as he left. Every Steward had been granted the honor of carrying a dish or drinks to a meal for only five people. They each had offered well wishes and good luck to the Captain and Doctor Martin.

  Noreen stood to offer a toast to her friend and Captain, and to her lover and friend Dillon.

  “Gentle Men,” she looked fondly at them both. “May you be not so gentle on the morrow? Give the Krall Hell.” Her eyes glistened and her throat felt constricted. She found it too difficult to speak, so she simply raised her Champaign glass as Maggi and Aldry rose and raised theirs as well.

  Afterwards, their glasses drained, Dillon was ready to ask for a refill but looked at Aldry as if for approval. “Uh, I certainly don’t plan to have a hangover tomorrow, but is alcohol really safe in our present mid transition status?”

  Aldry poured his glass full, saying, “Dillon, you might never really feel intoxicated again, with your new metabolism. Not without large amounts of alcohol poured down your throat. You will metabolize liquor too fast to get very drunk. Even at the seventy percent level your mods have probably reached so far.”

  “Huh,” he grunted. “You didn’t explain that little detail. I don’t know if I want to face the rest of my life here permanently sober.” He grinned to show he wasn’t serious.

  Aldry elaborated. “There will be some consolation effects that you, in particular, might appreciate.” She smiled wickedly. “Sexual endurance will increase, and the tissue changes that accompany the genetically enhanced heat tolerance tend to make certain, shall we say ‘delicate’ surface areas more sensitive and responsive to their environment. There’s more than one way to become intoxicated.”

  Noreen gave him a look, a clear indication of scientific testing to be conducted later that night.

  Mirikami, however, was a little uncomfortable at the turn of the discussion, so he diverted it back on topic. “Will our mods be offered to others of our people, now that they appear to work just as the records indicated they would?”

  “Tet, the tissue samples I took from each of you when you flew back an hour ago were sequenced and scanned. You, probably due to a lower body mass, showed almost seventy five percent of your cells expressing the metabolism mod, and seventy four percent the heat adaptation mod. That percentage will increase at a steady rate for the next week until you could even pass the traits along to future offspring.

  “Dillon, you are only a percentage point or two behind Tet, mainly due to your greater body mass. We had to infiltrate and convert a lot more cells and tissue with our viruses. However, you are younger and more athletic and you get more exercise, so I think your genetic conversion will be complete in perhaps less than a week.

  “How soon can we apply the next two mods?” Dillon asked.

  “You mean strength and endurance,” supplied Aldry. “I’d recommend a few weeks to allow what you have started to fully propagate through your bodies.”

  Then the fact that they had shifted to future planning sank into their minds. There needed to be a future for Mirikami and Dillon beyond tomorrow for them to participate.

  Taking the bull by the horns, Mirikami forced them to face the immediate prospects. “Ladies, no matter what the outcome is tomorrow, there is more at stake than the lives of Dillon or myself, or the entire combat team we have joined.”

  He knew it wasn’t necessary, but he reminded then anyway. “The human race needs time, hundreds of years or more, and those of us on Koban are the only ones that have a chance of giving that to them, even if they never learn what we did.

  “Tomorrow is but a single step, successful or not. There will have to be other steps after that, and you at this table will be part of those steps. However, those steps must be taken. You have to make it happen at any cost. I repeat, at any cost! Do you understand, do you promise to do this?”

  He pointedly looked at each of them, and waited until he saw agreement in each of their faces as they nodded, and stated their acceptance.

  “Now, this has turned far too somber, so why don’t we eat, drink, and be merry.” He declared.

  Only Maggi, with her interest in twentieth century flat screen films recalled the rest of that ancient biblical derived expression. For tomorrow we die, which she kept to herself.

  An hour before sunrise, Mirikami was dressed and had finished a surprisingly sizeable breakfast for him. His metabolism boost was demanding more calories.

  Thad had Linked to say he was on his way to the valley truck park, dragging smelly clothes behind him in the dirt, claiming he needed a longer rope because even he could smell them. He’d taken a truck from the south garage, to make sure several trucks and halftracks were ready at the east, and north sides, to encourage Krall novices to take those.

  He had left two scent trails from the north and east garages, towards the dirt track leading towards the valley.

  Dillon met him outside by the shuttle, just before sunrise, talking with Roni Jorl’sn. Deanna Turner, Frank Constansi, Clarice Femfreid, and Juan Wittgenstein were there as well, all carrying their armor, but dressed in their body suits. They were the members of what everyone was now calling Mirikami’s Team.

  Maggi, Noreen, and Aldry came down the hold ramp together and walked up to the group, shaking hands and wishing each of them good luck. Back at the hatch, Mirikami saw that it was crowded with his crewmembers and a lot of early rising passengers. They waved when they saw him look their way.

  He was already in his armor, carrying his helmet, with two pistols at his hip but no rifle. He had t
hree remotes securely fastened to his chest, and ammo was secured to a waist belt and a cross-chest belt. There was also a Katusha on his belt. If a Krall got close enough for that to work and knew where he was, things would have gone very wrong.

  Noreen gave Dillon a lingering kiss, but a hug would have been awkward with his hanging pistols, grenades, remotes, ammo belts, Katusha, and a rifle. Besides, they had conducted a final “scientific experiment” an hour ago to “test” Dillon’s readiness for the day’s activities. He passed with flying colors, though Noreen was ready for a second shower to cool back down. She wanted her own mods now, just to keep up.

  Maggi and Aldry both shook hands again with Tet, and Maggi made Dillon bend down to where she could give him a kiss on the cheek, placing her small hands on each side of his face. She was misty eyed as she turned away.

  For once, even as protected as he was in armor, Dillon resisted the impulse to wisecrack to his mentor. Besides, she might have explosive shells loaded today. He’d noted she was wearing a standard Krall pistol plus her Jazzer.

  The morning was already warm, but the sky was heavily clouded, suggesting it might be cooler than usual and the day might produce a shower or two. It wasn’t the rainy season, but that time wasn’t too far in the future.

  Thad Linked to Mirikami. “Tet, I just parked the truck in some trees slightly past the Krall’s usual sheltered parking area. I’m dragging the tattered clothes up the slope to the first cave, where I’ll throw them in the back. I’ll leave a trip wire rigged halfway in, with enough plastic near the roof to bring the hillside down. Kindly pick me up so I don’t have to walk to the top.”

  “We’ll be loading up and starting out in a few minutes Thad. We should be there probably before you finish your booby trap. Mirikami Out.”

  He faced “his” team, though he didn’t like it being referred to that way. “Gracious Ladies, and Gentle Men, I think we are ready to make some history. We’ll pick up Thad on the way then check out the ridge top and terraces before setting down below the ridge. After that Ms. Jorl’sn will be ferrying out the other three teams to their selected spots.”

  He looked at Roni. “I understand that the canyon team has asked if you can save them the climb down with ropes, and hover so they can step out through the cargo stowage hatch. Is that still their request?”

  “Yes Sir. If the winds are low this morning I can probably hover close to the rock face, or else I’ll set them on the top of the ridge as we originally planned. They have pitons already in place for the ropes if they need to climb down.”

  “Fine, accommodate them if possible, but don’t risk half our shuttle ‘fleet’ and your neck in particular. I never asked them how they were going to climb out if they made it through to the next day. I know nothing about climbing, so they must have a way.”

  Raising his voice to catch everyone’s attention, Mirikami called for them all to climb aboard through the storage hatch. All of their equipment was already in place on or near the cliffs.

  Mirikami was the last to board. He saluted his ship and crew, and was surprised to see people coming out from under the dome’s overhang. They waved, and he waved back. It wasn’t a cheering situation, but obviously, they wanted Mirikami’s ideas to work, since some of them might be going next.

  The hatch sealed and everyone selected a seat, though this time Mirikami took the copilot’s seat. It wasn’t until he sat down that he realized how much more comfortable he felt moving around in his armor this morning, and his overall feeling of energy and anticipation made him feel alive and confident.

  The shuttle lifted smoothly and climbed away from the ship. They were over the valley in five minutes, and could barely see the truck under the trees, which was what they intended. It shouldn’t look too obvious they had been there, but they wanted it seen. Up the hillside, Mirikami spotted one of the larger cave openings covered by brush.

  “Thad, we’re here, are you about done?”

  “Almost,” he replied quickly. “I’m hiding one of two trip lines I set. It’s possible they may just start shooting into the cave, but there’s a slight bend after you enter, so I’m hoping they come at least that far. I’ll be right out.”

  They sat down to the side of the cave mouth, and he stepped out and trotted to the open hatch.

  At the top of the ridge Thad, Dillon, and Deanna went to each of the charges there, removed the safeties, and verified the mechanical trip wires were still strung across the pathways through the brush. Both charges also had remote actuators.

  They made the same checks on the next level down, with Frank, Dillon, and Juan, checking what they had set up there. Frank pointed to one narrow shadowy opening for Juan. “Stay out of there, that’s the famous shit cave you heard so much about.” They both laughed, and even Dillon was forced to smile. He made certain the remote actuator was working at that location before removing the safety.

  Repeating the process on the lowest terrace, the shuttle landed in the protected clearing, behind the large boulder. The shuttle was half the size of a Krall shuttle, so it was completely hidden from view from most of the cliff side positions. However, there was a place along the lower terrace with a protruding outcrop of rock. That outcrop had a view of the gap between the shuttle and the huge boulder, and Mirikami had visited that yesterday.

  Mirikami studied that outcrop again from the ground and nodded. Then they all moved to the other side of the boulder from the shuttle’s toxic exhaust. Mirikami gave permission to proceed, and she lifted away with Thad aboard, to return to the ship for the other teams.

  Mirikami armed his special claymore, and reburied it in soft soil with brush over that.

  Then the six of them trudged towards the cliffs, deliberately leaving clear footprints and scuffmarks until they reached a flat expanse of rock, then dirt again at the base of the rock face.

  They walked to two of the clefts or chimneys where a climb up was possible to the first terrace, leaving footprints at the base. Dislodging some stones, they dropped them to lay on the surface, partially covering some of their fresh footprints, to suggest they fell as someone had climbed.

  Next, they walked backwards along their trail until reaching the flat clear rock. There were now about a dozen set of tracks pointed roughly at and along the bottom of the cliffs, with suggestions that rocks had fallen when a climb up the clefts had taken place.

  Now it was time to hide in plain sight. That part of the plan seemed too simple to work, perhaps making it the best part. They had about another ninety minutes before the Krall shuttle should arrive at the dome. It would be perhaps forty-five minutes before a final pass by their own shuttle, to verify they were hidden.

  They only had a short walk from the cliffs, even if it was backwards.

  37. The Hunters

  Tyroldor was fresh from an interclan battle where Kimbo clan warriors had decimated two thousand forty eight Dolbrin clan warriors, leaving but a few hands of surviving breeders for their opponents. Both clans were young finger clans, just under a thousand years old, but Kimbo clan was a rising star because of their innovative tactics.

  This had been their third straight interclan victory, where the previous victory was against one thousand twenty four of the Maldo finger clan on the original Raspani home world. Prior to that, in an even smaller action to display their new tactics, Kimbo clan had virtually eliminated two hundred fifty six Toboro clan warriors on a former Olt’kitapi colony world in this same sector.

  That glorious benchmark battle had been negotiated to be an honor battle, “For the Path and clan,” fought to the death by equal sized groups with no quarter given or submission permitted.

  Kimbo clan had now been invited by ancient Graka clan to bring an octet to Koban. They were asked to send two experienced warriors that had participated in each of the three previous victories, and the rest novices. Of course, Kimbo selected them well for this obvious showcase demonstration.

  It was an honor even to visit Koban, the future Kral
l home world, and Graka was one of the great old clans that dated back nearly to the Olt’kitapi destruction.

  Tyroldor was disappointed to learn that they would not test themselves against Graka warriors, where any victory against them would have status repercussions beyond its small scale. However, they were not told from what clan their opponents would come.

  It was obvious that Graka wanted to learn about the hyper aggressive risky attacks the Kimbo warriors had innovated. Kimbo had relatively fewer breeders survive each of their battles, but those that did earned a disproportionate high number of status points. Tyroldor’s clan strongly believed in quality breeders over quantity, a position that Graka clan was said to favor.

  There was the possibility of an alliance with Graka if Kimbo’s tactics produced more overall victories, despite greater warrior losses per battle. It wasn’t as if there were too few females for them to replace their losses by prolific mating.

  The hand and a half of novices he brought were untested of course, but were older than most novices at their first combat test were. They were extremely well schooled in Kimbo’s slashing and ferocious frontal attacks, focused on inflicting maximum casualties on enemy warriors at their opponent’s strongholds, at any costs.

  The strongest points were where the enemy’s best warriors would be posted, and by recklessly sacrificing well-trained novice fighters to reduce the enemy’s best fighters, the flanking attacks by more experienced warriors rolled up the enemy until they either submitted, or died. The few novices that survived those frontal attacks gained considerable status and valuable experience. They would be octet leaders for the next test.

  Four tests ago Tyroldor had been a talented novice. Stepping down now to control a single octet seemed beneath his status, but the other experienced warrior placed under his command had also commanded four other octet leaders in their victory over Dolbrin clan. Tyroldor had earned more status than he had by virtue of some luck, and his aggressive use of his octets.