Koban: The Mark of Koban

by Stephen W Bennett

  There was no pressure to convince any of them to accept any modifications at all, no matter the reason for moving to Prime City. Most “converts” asked for the bare minimum gene changes, the four human clone mods, to help a woman grow strong enough to carry a child to term. The father also needed the mods, since otherwise the fetus was at too high a risk in the high gravity. That child would inherit the genetic traits of both parents of course, joining the other SG kids, except none would have the Koban nervous system, as parallel but inert.

  For now, the organic superconductor nerves were redundant and only couples that wanted their grandkids to be fully Koban adapted opted for them. Although, a rumor had it that SG’s with “nerves” might be able to receive other levels of Koban derived modifications that required the faster nervous system.

  The occasional and subtle repetition of the lists of nearly a hundred fifty “standard” genetic mods that virtually all modern humans carried, and had carried for hundreds of years, gradually wore down some of the societal objections in Hub City. The “original defective” genome of the race, from the mid twenty first century, no longer existed outside historical preservation in various laboratories and gene banks. The general population, as far back as three hundred years ago rarely had these defects, and at one time paid only a few days salary to have genetic problems corrected. Health plans had routinely paid for repairs that were life altering or life threatening.

  The only reason for the delay in moving so many couples into Prime City was logistics. Many suitable quarters for habitation had become manufacturing or hydroponic areas. That production would have to move to Hub City to create living space here. It was underway, requiring those that wanted to move to participate in the relocation efforts, going both directions.

  Mirikami, sitting across from Dillon, used one of the new verbs that had entered common use. “I frilled both Kobalt and Kit when they returned. I personally don’t see any drawbacks to an agreement with the northern pride, and I believe it will eventually lead to cooperation with other ripper prides, once we each lose our natural distrust. With that major predator threat removed, hunting will get a lot less hazardous.

  “Except rhinolo, moosetodons, and yaks aren’t going to make friends or become pets, but then we aren’t going to stop eating them either.” He laughed.

  Maggi, sitting at the end of Thad’s table, right next to Dillon’s family, said, “This is only the third intelligent alien species we’ve met, and the second one we found that we can make agreements with. Not that the Raspani really make agreements. Their original brilliance has been bred out of them.”

  Marlyn had maintained an interest in the Raspani. “Is the new training school Vince set up for them making any progress? Jake has their pigeon version of Krall and Raspani language fairly well decoded, I thought.”

  “They have a relatively small vocabulary dear, and their minds are reduced to a simplistic level. One thing they all seem to believe, is that some of their people went far away and will return for them. That makes more sense than just wishful thinking on their part, because none of us can see how the Krall could have hunted down every last member of every star faring race they conquered. I hope refugees from each of those races exist elsewhere in the galaxy.”

  Kobalt and Kit rose up as two disheveled boys came running into the Great Hall, late for dinner again. Noreen and Marlyn checked their hands for being freshly washed, which they were. That was more than their dusty bluegrass stained pants and shirts could say. They each frilled the cats before rushing over to the self-serve tables of hot and cold food, and loaded up a heaping tray each. SG kids ate a lot of food for the sake of their increased metabolism, and usual childhood hyperactivity.

  When they returned to their family tables, they took their usual places beside their fathers, rudely shoving the next oldest child aside. Katelyn was the six-year-old sister of Carson, and Bradley was the six-year-old brother for Ethan, both younger ones shoving back at their big brothers, in the normal sibling resentment and pecking order. The youngest child of each family sat by their Moms. Both were three-year-old boys, Cory with Noreen, Danner with Marlyn. The children’s similar ages were a tribute to Planned Parenthood.

  Carson shoved a bite of cubed rhinolo stew meat in his mouth, and asked “Uncle Tet, are we going to have a truce with the pride on the north side?”

  Noreen spoke first. “Don’t do that again. Ask first, or swallow before you talk.”

  Mirikami smiled. “We just found out about the offer. I can’t imagine that anyone wants to turn the northern pride down. However, we do have to give everyone here a say before we make a final decision. Even the pride elders will ask the opinions of the pride members. At least that’s what I gathered from Kobalt and Kit’s impressions.”

  Ethan hadn’t filled his mouth yet. “Oh, the pride will all agree. Kit made a really good connection with a female named Telror, and she had her own mind images to share that would show the pride that humans are really people. Kobalt and Kit have those kinds of images, but they are outsiders that lived with us.”

  Thad looked down at his son. “How do you know all this? Kit just arrived, and when I wanted to know if she had seen you on the way back, she didn’t have any frill contacts with you to share, not for the last two days.”

  Noreen reached over to Kobalt and touched his frill a second. Kobalt looked at Carson, then away. “Odd, Kobalt has no image of seeing Carson all day either, but that was a very pointed and insightful question my son.”

  Uh Oh. Carson thought. Rippers would withhold information, but they would not lie. A gap in mental story telling was a red flag for an omission.

  “Uh, we knew what they were going out to do, and I was sure they would convince the wild rippers.” He ended that lamely, as he realized that Ethan had already spilled more details than they could possibly have guessed. Busted.

  His Dad spoke up. “I don’t think we need to cover all of this at the table, in public. It can wait.”

  Carson knew that wasn’t a reprieve, merely a stay of sentencing. Besides, now their parents might decide to ask Jake what he saw. There’d be no memory gaps or filtering there.

  Dinner continued with various items of chatter, while Ethan and Carson ate mechanically, their appetite gone.

  Later, after the families cleaned their tables and left for their quarters, and the next supper shift filtered in, Tet grinned at Maggi. “What do you think those four were up to?” He obviously included the cats.

  She smiled back. “The kitties are only guilty of loyalty and cover up. It’s hard to say about those two scallywags. Look who their fathers are.”

  With a sigh, Tet asked. “Scallywags?”

  “Crap! Watch an old movie sometimes. Why do I always have to translate for illiterates?”

  ****

  The next morning, Carson was up early for class. His parents hadn’t really laid into him when they got to their cubicle cluster. They sent him to bed early, right after homework, no watching an old Tri-Vid recording of a show in a life and place he didn’t know about anyway. Except, this particular level of discipline happened almost once a week for him. He got off easy.

  After breakfast, he was about to leave for class when his Dad handed him some work gloves, made of Smart Fabric. “Uh, thanks,” he muttered in confusion.

  Just then, his mother stepped back into the small eating area, with Kobalt in trail. “I discovered you intended to take Kobalt to class today, he told me. I cleared it with your teacher. Mr. Rigson is expecting both you and Ethan to arrive with the cats.”

  “Sure.” Now he was more confused. The cats were normally too much of a distraction for the kids to work on their lessons. They wanted to frill them all the time, but today the cats were to be part of the presentation he and Ethan wanted to make.

  “Why is it OK today Mom?” He was suspicious.

  “It’s a show and tell day on the class activity list isn’t it?”

  “Yes, though everybody has seen and to
uched Kobalt and Kit a zillion times.”

  His Dad looked at him meaningfully. “Ah. But have they ever sensed what a wolfbat was thinking?”

  They were really busted!

  “Uhh…, I guess that’s what the gloves are for, so it won’t bite me?” There was no point in trying to deny it now, since they obviously knew.

  “Hummph. I never thought of that.” His Dad fingered his chin. “No, those are really for cleaning out the animal corral after class. That will make you late for super, so consider yourself excused in advance for missing a meal. Have a nice day.”

  ****

  Mr. Rigson was waiting in front of the utility room door when they arrived. “I checked, and it’s fine, and the cage held it OK. It dragged one of the tablecloths partly inside through the mesh, but couldn’t damage or chew Smart Fabric of course. Leave the cloth over the cage. It will make a good surprise for the class if nobody sees it first.”

  Carson was puzzled. Does everyone know what we did?

  Then Carson remembered his Mom had called Mr. Rigson. He and Ethan carried the covered cage to the classroom, and placed it under the teacher’s desk, out of sight. The bat was unnaturally still he thought, until Mr. Rigson asked them to send the cats to the back of the classroom. The wolfbat certainly had scented and heard the two rippers. It wasn’t about to attract attention. The boys let the cats know why they were sent there, and that they didn’t want the wolfbat to die of fright in front of everyone.

  After the usual routine of show and tell presentations, Ethan and Carson went last. The other dozen kids had noted the cats, and despite the lack of novelty, they were perfectly willing to frill the cats again. When the boys pulled the covered cage from behind the desk, their interest shifted. Lifting the cloth, the whole class uttered the expected excited exclamations. The wolfbat itself was clearly terrified, and instantly spotted the rippers through the herd of humans that surrounded its pen.

  The flyer called for any Flock mates that might be near, but received no reply. The echo returns, jumbled as they were with the moving herd surrounding it, still told it that it must be inside the big nest. Just as it had suspected, after regaining full consciousness, and buried under that sound absorbing covering all night.

  These smaller herd animals, and one large one, all carried the loud things that killed at a distance. They had him trapped inside a strong container where they could kill him if they wanted to, and which was no protection at all from either of the rippers. Why were the rippers not attacking this other prey? They were calmly watching the herd. This was strange behavior, and it had been reported by other squadrons that two rippers were seen going in and out of the large nest, and did not kill prey from this herd, but did kill other prey. This must be those two rippers. Whatever was going to happen, he was not going to return to his mate, and their two pups. His mate must think him already dead, and if she didn’t hunt for food tomorrow, the pups would rapidly weaken. Leaving pups that young alone for that long to hunt was a great risk.

  He had no experience with predators or prey like these, none of the Flock had. You don’t hold prey, you kill and eat it, and he was now their prey. He believed he was doomed, and so were his pups.

  He had no room to spread his wings, but if he drew them in close to his body, he could turn around with difficulty. One dimension of the web of hard material holding him was longer than the other, preventing his quick reversal. However, he would bite and claw at anything that he could reach. He would die, but he would not surrender.

  He was touched from behind several times, when his captors reached through the small gaps. As quick as he was, the confinement prevented him from biting their probing appendages, which looked like long toes, before they withdrew them. These smaller prey turned-into-predators were nevertheless quicker than his Flock stories suggested from experience.

  Part of his attention never left the huge rippers, so he noticed instantly when they moved, holding very still as they both advanced towards his container. He was afraid, but defiant, hissing at them in a low frequency range that he knew these half-deaf animals could hear. Instead of tearing open his container to get to him, they lay on their bellies, facing him, massive heads resting on their front paws.

  His eyes had immediately told him the rippers were a male and female, simply from the size comparison. Scent had also confirmed the gender identification earlier, although smell similarity revealed a close relation, a brother and sister, not mates.

  Next, the two smaller prey-turned-predators that had captured him, placed their hands on the ripper’s necks, and reached towards his enclosure from opposite sides. He could not face both at once, and because they were approaching from the narrow dimension, he could not whirl around to defend himself from attacks from two directions.

  The first one to try to grab him came from the side with the female ripper, and he snapped in that direction. As he did so, he was touched from behind.

  The pictures invading his mind were confusing, reassuring, terrifying, comforting, threatening, and a bizarre mixture of thoughts and images that he had never experienced. He forgot about biting, not certain if he was safe or about to be eaten.

  Abruptly, the comforting images had somehow pushed away the terrifying images; the ones that had enjoyed his fear were gone. He sensed he was not going to be eaten, not even hurt. Naturally, he took advantage of this sign of weakness and snapped at the contacting appendage.

  He barely missed closing on one of the two slender “toes” placed on his rear right haunch, breaking the contact as it withdrew, freeing his mind from the confusion. It didn’t last. A new touch on his undefended left side poured a new and different mixture of conflicting images into his mind.

  Here the comforting and reassuring images were much weaker than the overpowering and threating images that warned him he was on the verge of death if he tried to bite the new “toes” touching him. Suddenly he was able to sort out the sources of the conflicting stream of thoughts. The female ripper would kill him, with pleasure, if he bit her smaller gentle relative, her brother, now touching him. How was that small animal her brother? Her brother was the giant ripper on the opposite side.

  Despite his confusion, he clearly perceived that his continued life depended on not attacking the animal that was touching him. He decided that was the prudent course of action for now. Instantly, he felt a withdrawal of the threatening presence, and a different soothing set of images remained, curious about him, not threatening, offering safety. No matter his instinct to take advantage of this sign of weakness, he did not snap this time.

  Suddenly the other small animal was also touching him, and the “scent” of the mental images (he didn’t know how else to think of them), were different. It was equally curious, and nonthreatening. In the background was the faint “smell” of the male ripper’s thoughts, but he deliberately held them back.

  The flyer didn’t know how these thoughts reached into his mind. He had an unexplainable belief that the rippers controlled the images, and that the smaller animals used them. Surprisingly, an image showing him one of the smaller animals touching the fleshy fringe on the male rippers neck appeared in his mind, followed by an image of it not touching the ripper. Abruptly the mind images from that animal ceased, but he felt its continued touch on his right leg. Then the images returned, and he clearly saw its front leg resume contact with the big ripper’s neck. The ripper was the source of pictures when the small animal touched the ripper.

  The flyer realized they had “heard” the question he had formed in his mind, almost as if he had made a call to a squadron mate. Wolfbats were not the top thinkers on Koban, but they were far from stupid, and they had a rudimentary language of complex calls and signals. They formed strategies for coordinating attacks and changing flight formations. They had an astonishing ability to form mind pictures created from sound echoes, which required considerable memory storage.

  His high metabolism and lack of food and water had left him shaky, particularly
after a night frantically trying to escape his hard cage, burning energy. He wanted to be free to hunt for food, to find water.

  The creature paired with the male ripper pulled away, and made calls to the other herd animals. Several left on the run, and another went to the side of the nest area they were in, and he heard the sound of splashing water. In a moment, a shell of water appeared next to the trap he was in, except he couldn’t reach the fluid he desperately wanted. A powerful image came that the shell could be placed in his container, but if he moved even a small amount to escape or bite; the female ripper showed him an image of his dead carcass being eaten.

  The small animal that brought the water placed some new “skin” over its front “toes” and did something to the side of the enclosure.

  “Ethan, I have the gloves on so I’ll put the bowl inside, but I don’t want Kit to kill him if he tries to get out. We have a dozen jazzers in here. We can stun it if it gets out. Right Mr. Rigson?”

  “Lads, you two boys have done a good job so far, and from what you’ve told us, the bat can sense and respond to instructions, and now has asked for food and water. That is communication, and cooperation. I would not dream of preventing this unless it attacks one of you kids. I have my own jazzer ready, so the rest of you keep yours holstered. I don’t want half my students stunned by reckless shooting. Carson, open a corner just enough to put the bowl inside at the far end. Ethan, you keep it reassured and calm with Kit.”

  “Yes Sir, but I think Kit already has it convinced not to move. I’m sure it doesn’t want to be a lunch snack.”

  The other kids giggled. They were familiar with the intimidating kinds of thoughts the rippers could send. Of course, for them it was always non-gory play-acting. It wasn’t “play” when she sent her thought image to the wolfbat.

  As Carson raised the corner, warping the lid enough to slip the small bowl under, Kobalt raised up to look down over his shoulder. The wolfbat didn’t wiggle so much as one of its sensitive muzzle whiskers. At least until the lid was refastened, and Ethan gave it permission to move. The twenty-pound bat quickly crawled to the bowl and lapped at the water until it was gone. A girl had a cup handy to pour more in without reopening the lid. The bat drank only half of the replacement water. Frequent drinks were preferred over the flight weight of too much water.