As he finished that statement, the hauler left the bright afternoon sunlight, and entered the slightly cooler shade of the overhang.
The wall under the overhang was as much as fifty feet back at the center, with alternating large and small doors for entry. Dillon stepped out of a smaller middle door as they pulled in, and waved them towards one of the big doors, which started to lift as they approached.
Driving right into the maintenance bay, Ricco stopped when a group of six people with guns pointed the hauler’s way confronted them. The door started back down behind the hauler, but neither their two riders, nor Mirikami or Ricco made any move. Mirikami hadn’t expected a hostile greeting.
However, as soon as the door clanged shut, the half dozen people facing them lowered their weapons and most turned away, talking among themselves.
With a flash of embarrassment, Mirikami realized they had merely been covering the open door against entry by wolfbats or skeeters.
Dillon walked over from the door control accompanied by two other big men. Mirikami recognized Ray, and knew the other man’s face from the ship, just not his name.
“Captain, I didn’t get a chance earlier today with so much happening outside, but these two gentlemen are my fellow Fireballers, Ray McPherson and Jim ‘Jimbo’ Skaleski.”
Mirikami shook their hands, “I’ve had dinner with Ray and his wife a few times. I’ve seen you around on the ship Jimbo, but we actually never had a chance to meet. I really appreciate all of you being willing to go out to test those homemade flamethrower contraptions my machinist’s slapped together.”
“I’m glad I didn’t need to use mine,” Ray answered. “Turns out that not only would my spark igniter not have worked any better than Dillon’s, but my backup laser was set to the wrong focal length. I might have lit a cigar at two feet, but not the vapor cloud farther out.” He made a rue little chuckle.
“Some of those folks on the pallet would have died while I tried to hit the bats with my nozzle.”
Jimbo had his own tale. “After the bats pulled out, I tested mine out closer to the Krall Shuttle, aiming away from the line just to see if would work after Ray’s test flopped. The igniter lit the stream, and it shot out about twenty or thirty feet, dripping flaming drops on the ground. That would have coated the bats and the people.
“Plus, when I cut off the flow the process was too slow. The fire drew back down to the nozzle, which was also wet by then, and caught that on fire. Luckily, I could use my gloves to smack out that flame. Those gadgets need more testing and adjustment before we ever try to use them again.”
Mirikami nodded agreement. “I hate to say we were lucky today, but there was some luck on our side, because things could have gone much worse. I thank all three of you for being there, and taking on a larger and longer share of the risks.”
Some of the Fancy’s complement had gathered around them to listen, and more were making their way inside through a smaller door off to the side.
Rigson sat on a box there, covering the doorway with a Jazzer. He waved over to his Captain, but continued to watch the door. The Smart Bandages apparently were still feeding his wounds painkillers.
Seeing the expectant chattering faces around him, he realized these were all “his” people, but that the majority of his passengers weren’t in the large maintenance area, nor were their dead or injured. They must have gone deeper into the dome.
He saw there were ten dirty faces he didn’t recognize. From their mismatched clothes and sullen faces, they were obviously the previous Krall captives. None of them would make eye contact with him, looking away quickly when they saw him glance their way.
Mirikami raised his arms, hands out, to quiet those near him. “Well done Gentle Ladies and Gentle Men, this was a hard dangerous day and you came through better than I think the Krall expected. But not better than I expected, because I knew you were prepared, and could do what had to be done.”
“We suffered some losses and injuries, true, but less than we could have suffered if not for advance preparation. However, we have harder days coming, so please try to get some rest when night comes, and we will have some simple foods brought over shortly. The pallet here,” he pointed, “has boxes of pillows and blankets, and a dozen and a half table cloths we can use as wide blankets. More will come if we have the time.” He added.
“Keep secure control of the table cloths, they are Smart Fabric, and we know now they will protect us somewhat from bites and stings. Until we can make coverlets or some sort of outer clothes from them we can use them to hold over us when we go back to the ship tomorrow.”
At that comment, he saw most of the ten dirty faces look sharply in his direction, then away when he returned their looks. Some shook their heads, and a few smirked knowingly. The wrecked ships outside the dome entrances proved how skeptical they were of that happening. He hoped Telour would help him prove them wrong.
“I’m going to have Doctor Martin and his Fireballers show me around a bit, so help distribute the bedding so Mister Balduchi can make another run.” He no longer needed Dillon’s people to unload, so they may as well help show him around.
Dillon and his volunteers made a lane through the press of people by the hauler, and Mirikami went with them towards one of four doors out of the maintenance area into the next part of the dome. He saw the windows Chack had mentioned earlier, and saw a lone warrior on the other side, watching the humans.
As they went through the door, the warrior approached in their typical fast smooth strides. Mirikami was careful to look at a spot at the center of his crossed belt harnesses.
Although he was dressed in black, he surprised them by speaking in crude Standard. Mirikami noticed that his throat tattoo was slightly more elaborate and colored than those of the novice warriors he had seen on the ship, but less so than for Parkoda and Telour.
He spoke in a bass growly voice, “You human ship clan…,” he sought for a word, “boss? Is human word or not?” he demanded.
“The other translators say ‘clan leader’ in our language, but ‘boss’ is another word that means almost the same thing.” replied Mirikami.
“You clan leader, or not?” He wanted a straightforward yes or no answer. He had picked up a new word on one hearing. They had previously noted the Krall had an extremely quick ear for learning new words.
“Yes, I am the human clan leader from the ship.”
“I Train be translator, for high status,” He explained, something a Krall didn’t seem to do often. Perhaps this was the best brag he could manage in Standard. He added “Dorkda comes speak you soon.”
Then he smoothly turned on his bowlegs and glided back to watch through the window again.
“That solves the problem of contacting Dorkda. I guess he’ll seek me out.”
Looking around, he saw the room he had entered was sort of an open storage area for a mix of Krall made items he could not place a use for right away. Some were human made things, like collapsible tents, assorted military cooking stations for troops in the field, stacks of metal pots, pans, utensils, tubs or basins, and cafeteria bench-tables stacked on one another. It looked like a supply ship with kitchen equipment had made its way to Koban.
Dillon, seeing him look around, said, “I was told one of the early ships they captured was a transport, headed for a mining outpost that had bought military surplus equipment from before the collapse. There’s more stuff like this near all of the main entry points. It got stacked like this until it has a use.”
“Living quarters for humans are normally several more rooms and doors into the interior, in case a bug or bat gets inside. There are living areas we can use on almost every level but the top. Some levels once had large spaces reserved for Krall exercise and training, crèches where eggs were laid and hatched, and the young raised themselves there I hear. These are locked off from human use, but can be seen from interior windows. I haven’t been there, of course, except for what used to be a Krall garden area. That has
Jimbo excited.” He let the other man explain.
“After hearing about this from the original captives, we went up to level twenty one; they have a lot of elevators here by the way, which we can use. They’re huge.” Realizing he had jumped off subject he promptly jumped back.
“Anyway, that floor was their equivalent of a garden that must have held plants that may have been native to their home world. It’s all dead now, but the exciting part,” he almost gushed, “is that it is almost ideal for a hydroponics section. It has the light, water, and soil we could use to have an indoor supply of fruits and vegetables. All of which we brought on the ship for Midwife. That was my department!” He was ready to start right now.
“Jimbo, that’s great news, but,” Mirikami butted, “we have a lot of things we need to have established before we can devote time and resources and manpower for that. We might need Krall permission, for one thing.”
“It isn’t off limits to us Sir. We could walk right inside and look. Couldn’t we guys?” He appealed to the other Fireballers.
“He’s right captain,” Ray agreed. “The other captives go up there and use a small part of it. However, they had no way to take full advantage of it except for a modest vegetable garden in one corner. That was started by a captured farmer headed for a Rim Colony, before he was killed in testing. It’s neglected now, despite their need for the fresh food.”
“They mentioned they didn’t have food to spare. The Krall hasn’t let them starve, and they presumably have some food. I recall they had farm animals.”
“I asked about that Captain. They didn’t all want to talk about it, but there is a heavily protected covered corral. There they have a few cattle, goats, and pigs, and even some kangaroo. They feed them grass from Koban, which sometimes makes the animals a bit sick, and feed them scraps from their own food, and the garden leaves from upstairs.”
“But what do the people eat most of the time?”
Dillon had that answer too. “A lot is frozen military rations from a stockpile the Krall raided. One of the ‘collaborators’ as they called him, led the Krall to where there was huge stockpile on a Rim world’s moon base. Naturally, there were no human survivors from that raid. That particular collaborator had an ‘unfortunate accident’ later, as apparently all of them have had. But the people here manage to ‘choke down’ the food he obtained for them.”
“It appears to be a sensitive subject for them,” added Jimbo. “The Krall sought out and killed anyone they thought caused the accident. Except for two that were killed by another human. They wouldn’t say why or who killed those two. Seemed afraid to do so.”
“Telour described something like that.” Then Mirikami was discussing food again, “So frozen military rations is it? That must get old.”
“Sir, they do have one more source of meat, but they’d almost rather die than go get it. Or it almost amounts to dying just to go.” Dillon added mysteriously, letting the statement just hang in the air.
“Son, you are starting to talk just like Doctor Fisher accuses me of doing. How about you just tell me what you are talking about!” Mirikami complained.
“Buffalo meat,” he announced with a huge grin on his face. Which quickly switched to serious when he saw the look the Captain gave him.
“That’s the closest Earth analogue Sir, honest. However, the captives here decided to call them a rhinolo. They’re grass and leaf grazers that roam the plains in big herds, and sometimes show up near the compound.”
“We can eat their meat? And not get sick, I mean?” the Captain asked skeptically. “I can believe that the Krall might have been bred to eat almost anything, but we haven’t.”
Alien animal meat often contained things toxic to people, or were indigestible. At least they were inedible before they received gene modifications to correct that.
“It seems we can eat most animals here, despite higher trace levels of certain heavier elements or rare earth minerals. But notice that the wolfbats and skeeters seem able to eat humans, or drink our blood, so it isn’t too surprising.”
“Then what’s the problem? Kill some and eat them, right?” Mirikami hadn’t yet learned much about Koban, and should have recalled that even the Krall found it dangerous.
“Nearly half of the people that have gone hunting haven’t come back,” Dillon told him. “Part of the reason is how the warriors force them to hunt. The Krall make the humans that go with them on hunts do so on foot, as the warriors do. One of eight warriors might not come back either. And the humans only get to keep what they kill; no charity from the Krall.”
“The humans are armed with rifles, I presume?” Mirikami asked. “I see them carry pistols and rifles here. If they watch out for wolfbats and skeeters, they should be able to kill a Koban buffalo easy enough. Only you said they call them a rhinolo. Sounds like basic hunting, so what’s the catch?” Mirikami still was puzzled.
“It seems a bit hard to grasp to me too Sir. But, the rhinolo are said to run at over fifty miles an hour, and look something like a pale blue humpbacked three or four ton rhinoceros. They have a thick armored hide and skull that’s bullet resistant, and sport three horns, one long one like the extinct rhinoceros had, and two shorter sideways horns on the nose like an Earth wart hog has, whatever a wart hog is. I didn’t look up what that looked like.
“They told me the bulls will attack Krall or humans on sight, and come to the defense of wounded or killed members of their herd.”
However, he wasn’t through describing the whole problem.
“Except the rhinolo aren’t the only danger on a hunt, they tell me. The herd will eventually abandon a dead animal, or they can be driven off by a shuttle flyover, so it’s mainly a matter of patience once you bring one down.
“It’s one of the predators that normally hunt the herds that can even kill an armed Krall. They called it a ripper, a sort of giant teal colored lion equivalent, and they hunt like lions in a pride. If you see one before they sneak up on you it’s a distraction; there are at least five to ten more you don’t see behind you. They come to take away your kill, or for the hunting party itself if there’s been no kill. You had better get your ass to the shuttle or you are dead.”
“Why don’t guns scare them or hold them off?”
Dillon shrugged. “The only human survivors of a trip that experienced a ripper attack never actually faced them. Those two said they barely managed to get inside a shuttle before the last warrior leaped in and locked the other two people outside to die, with several rippers roaring and thudding against the closed hatch. Those surviving men and women were later killed in combat testing so we won’t hear that story first hand.” He concluded, sounding skeptical.
“They claimed an armed Krall warrior ran from these things?” The image of a frightened Krall appealed to Mirikami.
“The Krall always scout a heard from the air first, so usually the only risk is from the rhinolo, which is significant in its own right. The people here are free to try to hunt them if they want, but without a shuttle to scout for them. They would have to drive one of the truck-like vehicles parked outside to get out onto the plains to the south.
“There are thirty-two double gates in the thick outer walls and outer electrified fence, but they aren’t guarded. You have to manually open and close the gates one at a time, much like an airlock system. It isn’t the Krall that keep us here it’s the dangerous animals that keep us inside the compound.
“I think we’ll have to ask a Krall if we want to know more about rippers,” Dillon concluded. “But if they run from them, I’m not doing the asking. When I asked Dorkda why they were leaving their beloved Koban, I nearly got my heart ripped out. I’ll let someone else ask why they run away from blue-green kitties.”
“OK, you found out some useful information in a short time. How about introducing me to some of the captives I saw walking around here. Ten isn’t very many out of thousands. Are they spokespeople for the rest? They didn’t even want to look my way.”<
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“They made it clear they were not in charge,” said Ray. “It was one of the first things they told us. Each one of them told us separately in fact. They claimed they were only making sure that ‘newbies’ didn’t let in the pests.”
“That’s so,” confirmed Ray. “I think they were making a point of ‘not being in charge’ here.”
“I remember your speculation Captain, that leaders here don’t live very long,” Dillon reminded him. “I don’t think they want to even be associated with a new leader. His presumed followers might be sent out to fight with him.”
“So show me to their living areas. I guess that’s where most of our people are, right?”
“They have a sort of auditorium and cafeteria they call the Great Hall, right over this way,” and Dillon led him deeper into the dome, crossing a number of wide corridors that appeared to curve around the dome, much as ship corridors did.
When they passed through a final wide set of double swinging doors, they found themselves in a large open area at least three levels high, based on the balcony walkways ringing the circular room. There seemed to be fifteen feet per level for those. Human made table-bench sets were arranged in multiple rows in the center, with perhaps two thousand people standing or sitting and talking.
The distinction of who was who was clear. The clean, neatly dressed Flight of Fancy people were mostly seated close to the door the four came through, and more were seated towards the center of the large room. Around the sides were the more ragged looking, sometimes dirty long time captives. There was some interaction going on, but not exactly an excited welcoming of the new arrivals.
“Tet, Dillon, over this way!” A familiar voice called to them. It was Maggi, standing atop one of the tables closer to the center of the room. She had heard from Jake that the Captain was on the way over to the dome.
Walking down a wider center row between tables, several of the people off the Fancy had a few complaints for the Captain.
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