Koban: The Mark of Koban

by Stephen W Bennett

  He spent the next few moments sending a text to Ethan, and conferring with Alyson and Reynolds. Cahill’s first scream was discernible even through the armored portals.

  ****

  Toltak waited impatiently for the pathetic weak creature to close the distance to the shuttle. The billowing blue covering, blown against her by the breeze revealed a puffier outline of the animal’s body than displayed by most of its kind. It was wobbling as it walked and the hands and arms were gradually drifting lower as it was unable to sustain aloft that minor weight.

  This creature was supposedly adapted to this world after so many years living here. The human clan leader dared send this thing to tell Toltak what she should do. After tearing the information she wanted from this human, she would know for certain how to attack them, how many there were, how they were armed, where they were living inside.

  As it neared, it’s babbling increased, saying words Toltak heard and understood, but didn’t know what she meant by them. “I am not your enemy because I tried to stop the criminals, so I should be spared. I told them they were making a mistake. That when we went home they would be executed, or at least imprisoned. I said if you returned you would be angry. I warned them not to change your world, to stay away from its animals. When you learn what they did you will spare me, even reward me.”

  Finally, it’s arms unable to remain even shoulder high, it let them hang listlessly as she walked in a lurching side to side manner, apparently reluctant to close the final yards, now that it had left itself completely exposed to the will of the Krall. It made another plea. “I will tell you everything you want to know, but you must not harm me. I will be a friend to you. I don’t have any real friends here, so you can trust me to tell you the truth. Everything.”

  In a spasm of irritation, Toltak spoke for the first time to it. “Move faster, get behind the shuttle.” The Krall was unwilling to expose herself to go get this worm of a creature, not after the traps humans had proven capable of setting. Not seeing the trap did not mean there wasn’t one.

  Cahill thought for a moment. “That’s true. I should get behind the shuttle so they can’t shoot me. He promised he would do that if I helped you. That proves I can be trusted.” She hurried that last ten feet.

  As she rounded the nose of the craft, in a blur of movement Toltak ripped the blue fabric to shreds with her talons, to reveal any hidden weapons. The creature made a small animal shriek of fear, but had no weapons beneath that outer covering. It wore additional coverings beneath. All of the coverings stunk with the smell of human fear and the fluids they excreted from their skins when they were hot. There was a particular fresh amber stain spreading from where its legs met, down a form following material that covered her entire body, revealed a lumpy fat body. The damp material would not hide a useful weapon, but the smell was offensive.

  Toltak ripped off the rest of the damp and smelly fabric coverings and threw them disgustedly to the tarmac. The Krall had the ability to be more precise with her talon tips, but chose to leave a number of fine lines on the pudgy skin, which, like paper cuts, slowly oozed small drops of blood.

  The stupid animal seemed concerned with pointlessly covering parts of its anatomy with one arm and the other hand. It didn’t appear to notice the tiny slices along its skin, until the salty smelling droplets of moisture it exuded ran down to touch them. That seemed to spark a frantic effort to brush them away as if it burned. The accompanying sounds it made seemed to bear that out, and it briefly forgot to cover the uninteresting parts of its body that it had wanted to conceal.

  It was time to get the answers that Toltak needed answered. “How many humans are here?”

  “You didn’t need to make me naked. I came to talk to you. Please let me have some clothing. This is unacceptable.”

  A talon swipe along one of two large hanging bulges of flesh, located below her old Krall novice tattoo, drew blood and obviously caused pain as she clutched a hand at the minor wound. “Be responsive to my questions and answer what I ask or I will remove parts of you slowly.”

  One threat Toltak wasn’t going to make, because she would not force herself to follow through, was to tell the subject she would eat parts of the creature’s flesh. That was often an effective interrogation technique. However, the nasty colored fat of human flesh was more prevalent on this specimen, so don’t threaten what you won’t do was a rule to obey here.

  “How many humans are here? And if you do not answer, what part do you wish me to remove?”

  Eager to answer this time she blurted, “There are about twenty four thousand humans here. You are greatly outnumbered.”

  “Yet so many of them hid from only six warriors. How are they armed, with what weapons?”

  “They have pistols and rifles you gave us and some big rifles they found inside cargo boxes. The criminals made bombs and they have knives. They also have rippers for pets that they will send to attack you.”

  That last item caught Toltak by surprise. “What is a pet? How would they make a ripper do what they want?”

  “A pet is an animal a human keeps for company, that they take care of and feed and live with. The rippers they have will do what they ask, and will attack you.”

  There was a loud snort from Toltak, which startled Cahill. The Krall spoke in the silent way they had to the other Krall, two of whom made their own snort.

  “Your clan leader sent you to tell me that we are outnumbered thousands to one, even though he said it was eight to one. You say they have rippers, the most deadly of predators, for pets that do what they order them to do. Yet they only have the guns we left here to hunt rippers. Did he tell you to say you built plasma cannons, and tanks? That would be better than the big rifles you say you have.

  “Tell me, why did you hide this great strength if you have all of this?” Toltak’s amusement was at an end.

  “I don’t know what they are doing. I’m not part of their planning.”

  “Yet the clan leader told us you were coming to speak to us before you came, and said you would tell us to leave before we were killed. I think you are mixing the stories you tell to hide something in the confusion. If we attack I believe we will find out how weak you really are.”

  “No. The criminals have children that were born here, that they bred to be fast and stronger that you, and you can’t beat them. Please take me with and leave now. I will not be safe here.”

  “Ah, now the human children, with rippers as pets will kill us, so we should leave. You say that would be a smart decision?”

  “Yes.”

  “I warned you that I would remove parts if you did not speak the truth. I will leave your tongue for later, because it will be needed when you change your mind.” She spoke high Krall to Pindor and Stilkap, standing behind the lying animal.

  As Pindor grabbed her arms at the wrist and held them out, Stilkap drew a long sharp knife and slowly sliced away a meaty strip of flesh from the left wrist to the inside of her elbow as she screamed until her lungs emptied. Then he used a piece of chord from a belt pouch to tie off the bleeding at the elbow. They had ample practice with humans, and knew how fragile they were, and what was required to keep them alive longer. What they couldn’t do was keep every subject conscious throughout all of the “entertainment.”

  Cahill went limp, her body left sagging from the forcibly outstretched arms, her head hanging forward with damp stringy hair hanging down. They let her drop, to await her first stirrings of returning awareness, so they could resume. Toltak regretted not starting with a less drastic removal, say a finger or toe, but she had desired truthful answers to her questions, and wanted them quickly.

  The transmission she received next greatly surprised her. It was the voice of the human clan leader.

  “Toltak you have dishonored the negotiation you personally requested, and injured or killed my emissary. We demand the right of challenge, to face the warrior that committed that cowardly dishonor. One of our warriors will face that offender, fig
hting where all can see, below your own Clanship with pistols. Do your warriors retain any honor, and enough courage to face one of us in face-to-face combat? Kimbo clan had enough courage, and lost to us. Perhaps Tanga clan has only Parkoda’s failures with Graka clan as its examples. Are you too afraid of failure with a human?”

  All of her warriors spoke and understood some Standard, and they were as enraged as she was at the direct insults. The human’s words stung more because in one sense they were true. Toltak had requested a negotiation, unaware that humans were here, with whom she would never otherwise stoop to holding talks. The humans in turn had a valid reason to feel her actions were dishonorable, and were demanding a standard Krall method of resolution. To refuse would deepen the dishonor that her team would feel if they did not accept. If the humans had a trap or treachery planned, she might possibly lose a warrior if he was too slow for their trickery, but she would gain truly motivated warriors in exchange.

  The risk was worth it she decided. She tapped her com button. “The challenge is accepted. We do not trust the honor of humans. Your warrior will walk to the Clanship first, and then when he is exposed if you use treachery, our warrior will walk to meet him. The standard greeting will take place before combat starts.”

  “Agreed, and we know of the Krall custom. Our challenger will start his walk soon.”

  Despite the obvious eagerness of each of the four warriors with her, Toltak looked at the logical choice. “Stilkap, you performed the removal. You have the honor of our clan to uphold. Check your pistols.”

  He had three, in preparation for the original hunt planned for today. He carried holsters on each hip and one on a cross-chest ammo belt set for a left hand draw. He cleaned his blade on the tatters of Cahill’s blue robe and slid that into a belt sheath. He verified two pistols had armor piercing rounds, and one, at his chest, had explosive rounds. He replaced the chest weapon with the gun on his left hip, to make a bigger mess of his victim. He was minutely faster with his left hand, as were most Krall, despite hundreds of generations of breeding for complete ambidexterity.

  “You know to be wary of human tricks. Be sure to kill the challenger quickly and move to cover behind a landing jack. Shoot the body several more times to make them aware of how today will end for them. You will able to enter the Clanship quickly when I signal. This is a stupid choice by them for where to fight. It works to our advantage.”

  ****

  Thad watched Carson check his weapons, confirming they slid easily in and out of their lubricated holsters, and that he had them properly tied to his lower thighs. Thad walked over to offer him something, whispering in his ear. Carson briefly looked surprised, then smiled and palmed the small object.

  Dillon was in conversation with Mirikami, and now came over to speak to his boy. “Son, I know you’ve seen the tapes of Krall training exercises where they stiffen and extend their left hands in a sort of salute. Don’t be fooled if he draws his right gun at the same time. What he should do is lower his left arm and enter a crouch and make his move.”

  “Dad, I’ve watched those old recordings many times, and we TGs all noticed that most Krall are very slightly faster with their left hands. Just as people are predominately right handed, the Krall must once have been predominately left handed.”

  “You really saw a speed difference? I never noticed.”

  Carson smiled. “That’s why we chose Koban nervous systems for TGs, remember?”

  “Don’t be cocky, wise guy. Of course, I remember. I helped isolate the genes.

  “Then trust in your work. I do. We all do.”

  “OK. Uncle Mirikami says he loves you, and that you don’t need luck, you have speed, and to remember that tuck and roll move he asked you to learn.”

  “I will, and I love him too. I wish I could have talked to Mom, but without the satellites, we’d have to use atmospheric bounce, which would show them where we sent our signal. Dad, I’d better start my walk. Like Uncle Thad said, they are highly unlikely to take a pot shot at me as I cross.”

  There were multiple guns covering him from behind, and the Krall in front, so he was feeling a bit exposed. He leaned down momentarily to draw out his eighteen-inch hunting knife from his calf sheath. He slipped something out of his pocket, put it back, and smoothly sheathed his knife without breaking stride.

  When he reached the Clanship, he remained in clear sight of both sides, but stayed close to the cover of a landing jack in the event he saw signs of treachery on the part of the Krall. He was actually relieved when he saw a warrior walking from around the nose of the shuttle. He could also see the K’Tal pilot in the cockpit, watching him. He was excited, but not anxious. This was life or death, but he didn’t feel like a lifetime of preparation was coming to a head.

  He observed the details of the Krall walking towards him. It was the first one he’d seen in the flesh of course, and its massive body build looked obviously powerful. Its smooth gait on bowed legs was as incongruous as it had always looked on Tri-Vid holo tapes. He noted that his left arm swing as it walked never strayed too far from the left holster, but the right had moved at least an inch farther each way. By preference, this warrior was a lefty.

  He saw two knives, one at its left hip, at least twenty inches long and probably double edged from its width. A nine-inch slim blade was in a sheath on the chest belt, below the third pistol and left pull holster (another left-handed clue). He noted neither holster had tie downs. Because the Krall had such long arms, the hands naturally were well lower than the hip level pistols. Unless it raised its hands, it would need more time to pull its weapons. It had never optimized its draw, probably because that wasn’t required against the humans it had fought. This would translate into multiple thousandths of a second more before it could grasp the pistol butts to clear the holsters. He was analytically watching every detail. The hundred-foot walk gave him a great deal of time to study his opponent.

  It was slight, but there was a minor lean in its gait. That suggested it was favoring its right leg by placing less weight there. Because it wore the standard black uniform with limbs exposed, he noted that the experienced warrior had pronounced ruddy skin coloration everywhere but the right leg, which was grayer from mid-thigh down. It had a tattoo that was over two thirds full of status dots, and reflected many kills. The extensive combat experience and gray right leg told Carson that it was a regenerated limb. The right leg was possibly not as strong or flexible as the left leg. A digit on the right hand was also a lighter color. These combined flags suggested the right side was the weaker side for this warrior. He wasn’t consciously planning how he might take advantage, but any information could become useful.

  It stepped under the Clanship, and stayed close to one of the landing jacks. Mutual distrust was to be expected. Carson was loose and watching the Krall, expecting the stiffening and salute, but prepared if he took a shortcut. It didn’t appear to the boy that it was particularly tense, and likely had confronted quite a number of armed humans, aside from the helpless civilians it no doubt had slaughtered. He decided to see if it knew Standard, and wanted to talk.

  “My name is Carson. Who do I have the pleasure of killing today?”

  “Stilkap will kill here human. I will kill more after you.”

  “Did you kill the woman that came out to speak to you?”

  “I remove a part with my knife, but it lives. It was weak and went to sleep for now. ”

  “I don’t like her, but I will remove some parts from you if I don’t have to kill you first.”

  “You are a human that speak like brave warrior. Most beg for life, or try shoot me fast. I will shoot pieces from you.”

  “Your Standard is not too bad. Let me say some words in low Krall I have practiced, and you say how badly I speak.”

  “Say your words.”

  “For a big warrior you have a small brain. Do you like the taste of rhinolo turds? If you ever mated, did the other hatchlings eat all of your cubs?” Those were all of the i
nsults he had practiced with Ethan, and the last was by far the most offensive for a warrior.

  Rather than answer him, a pissed off Stilkap straightened his legs, which Carson mimicked by standing straighter, and he raised his own left arm as the warrior’s left hand talons briefly extended. Then, exactly as Carson anticipated, the Krall was letting its arm appear to drop naturally while it really was drawing in closer to its body and lowering at an increasing rate. It was about to draw on him.

  His right hand had never strayed from a position in front of his pistol. His hand whipped back and rocked the pistol out of the holster just as the Krall saw his movement and increased its own hand speed. When the weapon tip cleared the holster, Carson’s barrel was leveled at his opponent from hip height, who was just now contacting his own gun butt, with the obvious intention of lifting it vertically out of the holster to fire. That was a less efficient and slower process.

  In that split second, Carson decided not to go for a kill shot now, and chose to prolong the duel for the added distraction it would provide. He shifted his aim and fired.

  Stilkap realized he was beaten to the draw by the smaller human. It had moved faster than he’d ever seen any Krall move, let alone a human. However, it had made a serious mistake by not taking aim at his head for the instant kill. Stilkap could take killing shots to the body and still take this human with him.

  The recognition that it was not a body shot startled him, as the bullet missed him completely, and shattered his pistol, stinging his left hand that had just grasped the butt. His instant response was to draw his right pistol as he moved his left hand simultaneously for the cross-chest pistol draw. The human’s poor aim would cost him his life now, for dead certain.

  Except, the human’s left gun was also now clear of its holster. While Stilkap had focused on the expected kill shot from his right hand weapon, the human had nearly simultaneously drawn his left gun. A second shot, which Stilkap couldn’t possibly consider a lucky happenstance this time, shattered his right pistol before he even touched the gun butt. His left hand was just reaching the butt of the chest belt’s holster when the human’s right gun fired again, aimed at his center of mass, but not straight into his chest. The human had held the gun down low, pointed upward at an awkward wrist angle, and yet still hit his third pistol. It was a stunning hammer blow on his chest. Had the slug hit the more fragile body of the pistol, it would have shattered the gun and passed into his chest, between the two hearts. That would be painful debilitating wound and slow him, causing damage to one or more lung lobes, but it would not be a fatal hit. However, the slug struck the lightweight, tough, single giant molecule of the gun butt material at a glancing angle, and deflected up and off to his own right. The slug smashed the clip inside the pistol butt and the trigger mechanism, rendering the third gun unusable.