Koban: The Mark of Koban

by Stephen W Bennett

  Mirikami told them, “I reached Vincent Naguma. He and Sarah Bradley were out in the Raspani enclosure in a truck. They saw us circle overhead and Vince is now on his way in to pick me up. Does anyone want to go with me? I plan to see the Raspani up close, and find out what Vince and Sarah have learned so far. That should keep me away from Cahill for a few hours.” He winked at Maggi.

  She felt torn between her scientific curiosity of the Raspani, and the anticipation at possibly making a fool of Cahill again. Curiosity won by a narrow margin. “Where do we meet Vince?” she asked.

  “He described a sort of airlock building for entering and leaving the enclosed area. It’s mainly to keep skeeters and wolfbats outside. It’s that one story building with lift doors over there.” He indicated a low building made of the same material as the dome, built into the closest side of the Raspani tent section, less than a mile away. As he pointed, a wide door lifted on the side of the building, and a Krall made truck with an expanded cab pulled out. A figure briefly jumped out to close the door, and then the truck started towards the shuttle.

  “That must be Vince with our ride. Anyone else going with us?” Mirikami asked.

  Noreen and Marlyn both said they were staying to help Dillon and Thad, which was no surprise to Mirikami, or Maggi. They had already noticed Marlyn’s interest in Thad.

  Neri was already rolling a case with the small cameras towards the Dome overhang, glancing to the sky periodically as all of them did, anytime they were outside. Obviously, he was planning to start work with his counterparts here, setting up the new cameras and monitors.

  The Krall truck pulled up and Vince stepped out to greet them, extending his wolfbat-scarred right hand.

  “Tet, Maggi, glad you decided to come see what we’re doing.” Vince Naguma was a wolfbat casualty from their first day on Koban, when he lost his left hand to their attack, and received a mangled right hand, with bites to his head. He wore a clearly artificial prosthetic left hand. Until the Krall had departed Koban, he had stayed in hiding, fearful the Krall might kill him on sight if they saw his combat limiting disability.

  “Sarah and I have some exciting things to tell you about the Raspani. We have a camp set up in a grove of trees, and the herd appears to prefer being near us. I’ll take you there now if you wish, or do you need to put some luggage in a guest room first?”

  “Do you have room for us to stay out there with you Vince?” Mirikami asked. “If so I’d prefer to stay with you at least overnight. We have some cots, blankets, folding chairs, and a four-person tent aboard. Maggi, how about you?” he asked.

  “I have all I need in my duffel,” she replied. “A night outside might be a very pleasant change. Assuming it’s safe. I have no desire to swat at foot long skeeters or worse.” She told them.

  “Don’t worry,” Vince assured her. “The Raspani are nearly defenseless, more so than we are without guns, and they have been safe here for years.” This rather overlooked the irony of their being a food staple when the Krall were in residence.

  Vince, using the prosthetic hand for an aid to lift their camping gear, helped Mirikami load it in the back of the truck.

  Maggi, noticing his care to avoid placing too much stress on the appendage, felt compelled to pass along news from one of the labs not involved with genetics research. “Vince, we have five doctors from the other ships that have volunteered with our medical research lab. They believe we have reacquired the medical technology to promote regeneration. It will take a few months, but I think you can get that hand back. Almost good as the original.”

  “Really? They sure are making fast progress. I didn’t expect that capability back for a couple of years. When we finish our first round of research here, I’ll check it out. This thing,” he waved the stiff pink hand, “comes unstrapped sometimes, and the neural command to grip or open is too damned slow to be of use in a hurry.”

  “I’m not surprised at our progress,” Maggi answered. “We don’t have real jobs here, so people throw themselves into projects to avoid boredom, and for the satisfaction of making a contribution. Like you and Sarah are doing,” she added in illustration.

  “True. This study has nothing to do with my field of microbiology, but it fascinates me to study a fallen alien species that once was more technologically advanced than we are now. I wish we knew what they were saying,” he added.

  Mirikami caught that reference as he tossed his own bag in the truck. “They talk? I didn’t know that. The people here at Hub City said they made nonsense sounds.”

  “Sarah made a recording of two of them apparently talking, and broadcast it to Jake to analyze. It’s a sort of low frequency pigeon Krall, mixed with words for which Jake had no reference. No one at Hub City knows any Krall…, not that many of us at Prime City know much either,” he chuckled.

  “Vince,” propose Mirikami, “you and Hub City could use more access to talk to Jake, or the other AI called Jeb, or to any of us at the other compound. I think we can arrange that to be easier. The long rage radios we have now depend on bounce from the ionosphere; it isn’t reliable and has a low bandwidth. We have a satellite relay originally intended for one of the fledgling Rim world settlements. If we attach an ion propulsion unit and lift it to low orbit, it can reach a geosynchronous orbit. After that, Jake could communicate directly and reliably here.”

  He didn’t mention that they also could use Jake’s spare transducer relay to allow private Links here. Thad and Dillon could have made use of instant Links as they hunt for the unknown predator.

  Saying their goodbyes to the rest of their group, Vince drove them out to meet the Raspani.

  Dillon and the others looked up as a man walking alone from the dome waved and called a cheery welcome. The four waved back, and Dillon introduced his companions and himself when he drew close, discovering in the process that this was Stewart MacDougal.

  “When I spoke to him on the radio, I thought Commander Mirikami was also coming.”

  “He’s here,” Dillon acknowledged, “but he went into the Raspani enclosure to see them up close, and to confer with the two researchers observing them.”

  “Avoiding our dear Governor, Lady Cahill, I’m sure.” MacDougal’s sarcastic phrasing when he said “Lady” was evident.

  Noreen asked, “You’re her Lieutenant Governor, are you not?”

  “Yes, for now. Cahill is at the north entrance waiting for you to land. I told her you were searching the compound for predators and wolfbats before she came outside this time. I realized you had actually landed here and came over to meet you alone.”

  “Not a very good way to hold your job, is it Mr. MacDougal?” Dillon observed.

  He laughed. “It wasn’t going to last longer than I could stand kissing her ample ass anyway. I needed some credentials and prestige for a day or two, and she was looking for a new set of sycophants. I applied and buttered her up, telling her any ‘real’ Governor had a Lieutenant. I was her choice this week, long enough to gain access to the radio room.”

  “What do you mean by that?” asked Thad. “We sent you folks the radio for requesting our assistance, and routine communications between the compounds.”

  “Right. Only that isn’t how Cahill and her supporters do things. They placed it in a so called ‘radio room,’ which is a Krall compartment with a locking door code that only she has access to open. I don’t know how she managed that, since the codes are set by the Krall and they’re gone.”

  “I know how,” answered Thad. “I had a living area like that at Prime City at one time, and could change the code myself after I had it set for me the first time. There’s probably a Krall computer in each of the maintenance areas at the four entrances, and the room door codes can be set from any of those. When the system powers off, like when the Krall left, the restart sets all the door codes to the Krall equivalent of zeros. It happened to us at Prime City when they killed our power, and I suppose Cahill learned about that, and set a new personal code to a locking ro
om. Barring a reboot, you need the new code to change the door again.”

  “Why did Cahill lock up the radio anyway?” Dillon asked. “Our researchers were able to use it earlier this week.”

  “She lets who she wants use the radio, and keeping you folks from knowing of the restricted use keeps you from correcting the situation. She didn’t want us ‘consorting’ with you corrupt criminals without being monitored. Do you have more long range radios we can use?” MacDougal asked.

  “A few,” answered Noreen, “but she can lock those up too if you people let her do it. Why do you?”

  MacDougal explained. “Cahill has some support from close to two thirds of the people here, at least passive support from that many. Then there are her strong supporters, militant in their condemnation of your genetic research, which represent perhaps one fifth of her total support. I’ve been in the third that didn’t support her, but also never actively opposed her.”

  Marlyn told him, “So, you have passively permitted the beginnings of a totalitarian government, which thinks it knows what’s best for all of you, without consulting most of you.”

  “That is a neglect I will correct for my part,” he admitted. “However, I don’t want to be seen as ignoring or condoning illegal gene modifications, or as helping the people that do it or receive the changes. With my position made clear on that subject, allow me to say that I do not consider you evil people, and in many other way’s you have behaved very honorably and lawfully. Nevertheless, I think we will be found by some scouts or explorers from the Hub eventually, and I do not want to go to prison for your actions.”

  Noreen nodded. “Mr. MacDougal, I appreciate your candor, and we obviously don’t agree with your stance against our method of surviving on Koban, and perhaps of facing the Krall someday. I think we can cooperate within the limits you outlined, and assist you in a way that does not expect your support or acceptance of actions we take, which you consider unlawful.”

  MacDougal grinned and offered his hand to each of them in turn, “Nicely said. I told you I found you folks well behaved and honorable, just a bit illegal.” He chuckled now.

  As they shook hands, Dillon had another question for him. “You ingratiated yourself to Cahill to gain access to the radio. What did you want from us that she wouldn’t support?”

  “She didn’t want help in finding whatever animal or animals attacked and killed our two people. I got you here to do that.” He stated firmly.

  “You’ve probably made Cahill an enemy now. Was it worth that much to you?”

  “Yes,” he answered in a subdued manner. “My brother Glen and his wife Candice were the victims.”

  All four offered their sympathy and condolences. Thad told him they would do everything they could to find and eliminate the predator or predators.

  “Do you have any idea when or how a large predator could have gotten inside the compound? I agree with Commander Mirikami, that a gate left open is the most likely scenario, because the fence monitors never recorded a power loss. Has anyone made a trip out of the compound that you know of recently?”

  He shrugged. “We have a former zoologist that wanted to see some rhinolo and other grazers once the weather warmed up. Cahill wouldn’t authorize her to check out a truck, telling her that if she wanted to study Kobani animals she should return to Prime City to live.”

  “Did she go out anyway?” Thad inquired.

  “She may have, but I don’t know that. Lady Amelia Simpson’s current consort is a handsome young Rimmer ramp worker, truck driver, and handy man, named Flaven Dawson. Your shuttle pilots see him each time you bring us fresh meat or supplies. He has regular access to a truck, so he might have given her a ride out and back without logging it for Cahill’s equipment watchdogs to report.”

  “Does anyone ever go out to actually check the gates?” Noreen asked. “If the trip were made recently, just after the snow melt, truck tracks might still be visible. We were going to fly the wall perimeter today, with Dillon and Thad wearing their armor’s helmets and visors. We can look for signs.”

  MacDougal shook his head. “Cahill doesn’t really focus on anything that isn’t social climbing or controlling and manipulating people, so no, I don’t think anyone is assigned to check the outer compound walls or gates. I can’t believe she was trained as a logical thinking scientist.”

  “Yes to the education, no to the logical thinking part.” Dillon answered. “She had a little used advanced biology degree that got her on our project’s consideration list, but it was her political machinations that actually got her on the Midwife Project, and eventually on our Board of Directors. She has always been political, and in my estimation, rarely logical.”

  Thad asked, “If Lady Simpson did get her truck ride out, do you know which of the thirty two gates she might have used?”

  “The rhinolo herds stay to our north and east in their migrations, I’m told. That’s something we all are generally aware of, since we hope to have our own hunters working for us soon, and that’s the direction they intend to go look for game.”

  “Thank you Sir. We’ll look there first,” Noreen agreed. “You’re welcome to ride along if you wish,” she invited.

  “I would, but after I get on Cahill’s ‘dirty’ list today, I had better create an appearance of some distance from you folks. No offense intended. I’m a recent consort to a certain influential Gracious Lady here that probably would not accept shunning because of me. I want to try to change things here politically, with her backing.”

  “Good luck to you Mister MacDougal. We will keep you informed as to our search results.” Noreen replied.

  Thad and Dillon soon appeared dressed for a Krall combat test. They wore armor, holding rifles and two Krall pistols on their hips, spare clips on their weapons belts. All they needed was to don helmets to be ready to fight.

  Noreen looked at them both, an amused look on her face.

  “What?” Dillon asked.

  “Maggi isn’t here. I feel a need, on her behalf, to make some appropriate remark. Perhaps something describing you two buckaroos.”

  “Not appropriate at all. That’s a cowboy reference she uses. We’re dressed like soldiers of old,” he proclaimed proudly.

  “Sure, like a couple of GI Joes” Marlyn added, “only with dirty, scratched, second hand dented armor.”

  Thad thumped her lightly on the arm, laughing. “Hey! I resemble that remark!”

  They were climbing back into the shuttle when they heard a shout from the direction of the dome. It was Cahill, with several Ladies in trail, hurrying out to greet them.

  “Oh crap!” Noreen muttered, as she motioned the others to continue into the shuttle. She turned, with a forced smile to greet the bulky woman, who on this occasion wasn’t wearing her billowing blue imitation Governor robes.

  “Are you going home already?” Cahill demanded more than asked. “Where’s Mirikami! I have a few things to say to him.”

  “The Commander is visiting our two researchers out in the Raspani enclosure,” Noreen answered diffidently, not caring for the woman’s tone and lack of manners. “For your information, we are not leaving the area,” she corrected Cahill. “I’m about to fly our most experienced hunters over the perimeter of the compound, scouting for the entry point of whatever killed your two citizens.”

  Cahill snapped a reply. “I think whatever it was has gone. It hasn’t shown a sign of its presence for a week. We’ve seen gazelles browsing near the dome. They wouldn’t be there if a ripper were stalking them. We don’t need your help.”

  Sticking his head out of the hatch, Thad had obviously overheard. “This predator, which may or may not be a ripper, had two humans to eat, so it won’t need to hunt for a week or more if it’s alone. You wouldn’t see signs of it, not if its stomach is full and it isn’t stalking prey. The next sign might be another human blood trail. How do you know there aren’t even more of them now? Those gazelles didn’t just hop over the wall. They got inside someho
w.”

  “I didn’t invite you here,” she retorted. “You didn’t even ask me before coming.”

  Noreen came back at her, “We don’t need your permission to come here, and you are not the person that asked for our help.”

  “My former Lieutenant Governor exceeded his authority in placing that call. He has been fired, or will be when I see him.”

  “Lady,” Thad spoke to her insolently, “if the potato peeler here asked for my help I’d offer it with no strings attached. It doesn’t have to be anybody you consider important.”

  Cahill sputtered in outrage. “You are speaking to the lawful Governor. You can’t go flying about here without my authorization!”

  “Self-appointed, I believe,” Thad answered, as he rolled his eyes, his impudence turning her face an even deeper purple.

  Trying to prevent matters from growing worse, Noreen made her an offer. “Governor,” hoping use of the claimed title would placate her, “you and your party are welcome to accompany us on our flight today. We have plenty of room.”

  The eyes brightened for her three companions at the prospect of aerial sightseeing. However, catching a glimpse of their anticipation, Cahill crushed the invitation in a brutal and ultimately final manner. It proved to be a painful experience for the Governor.

  “I think not,” Cahill responded with a sneer. “I’ve heard how flights with you end. I’d rather live to…”

  She nearly didn’t live past her abruptly terminated sentence. Noreen struck her square in the nose with a powerful right cross, backed by her gene mod strength and pent up anguish as she stepped into the punch. The sound of the fracturing nasal bone was clear. As Cahill squawked in pain and fell back into her cronies, Noreen drew her left pistol in a swift smooth move a Krall might have admired.

  Noreen looked down her extended left arm, over her steady pistol sights, index finger resting lightly on the easy squeeze trigger. Centered in her sights was the face of the nearly blinded-by-pain chunky woman, starting to gush blood from her nose. Noreen held the pose long enough for Cahill to get her eyes to open and to see the gun pointed directly at her forehead.