Longstreet nodded. “Sir, as you know, our technical people have programmed our AI’s to look for that weak pre-flash via our IR sensors. It’s a real effect, which we never noticed and they lacked IR sensors to see. It’s plausible that the Krall commander told them that.”
Trakenburg shook his head. “That detail seemed to imply a fluency in high or low Krall, which I questioned that they had. The TGs can’t hear ultrasonic speech, which is what a Krall normally uses with other Krall, so he would have needed to mumble to them in low Krall or Standard. You claim Carson is a TG1, so he might be able to read an alien’s mind against his will.” He definitely looked troubled now.
“I don’t know if we should let them know what we suspect, or confirm the ability some way first.” He made a Krall-like snort, unaware that it sounded like one. “Hell, if I report this, and I’m believed of course, the government might order the Navy to simply nuke them here in the crater, to kill them all before they get strong enough to take us all over if they defeat the Krall.”
Longstreet was shocked. “Colonel, whatever their capabilities are, or why they want to stay unknown to the Hub government, they risked the future of all their people to come here to help us fight the Krall. In my opinion, their fear of Gene War paranoia is valid, and your comment confirms you apparently agree with that.”
“I do, and I have no intention of sharing knowledge of their existence with the Navy or any political arm of our government. I’m a patriot, but the Krall are the enemy we face now. Who in your platoon knows what you suspected?”
“My men haven’t spoken to me on this so I don’t think they suspect anything. However, if you and I suddenly cut off physical contact now, with no more hand touching, the TGs or Mirikami will soon deduce that we learned they have this ability. If we don’t prevent physical contact they will sense it sooner.”
Trakenburg agreed. “Damned if we do and damned if we don’t. If we let them know we found them out, and then we accept them and continue to work with them, it should earn their trust. A trust they will know we return, assuming that we do, because we probably can’t hide it from them anyway. Are you personally prepared to take that step, Captain Longstreet, and offer that exchange of trust?”
“Colonel, if they can do what I believe they can do, it can’t just be me showing trust. You need to be party to the agreement as well, because I will know of any reservations you express to me now. Frankly, even if you conceal negative feelings from me, Sir, they will know of your knowledge. You’ll have to allow them to touch you to verify your thoughts. I definitely have privacy concerns. However, I believe there is a genuine sense of integrity in Captain Mirikami, and those that follow him. Sergeant Reynolds was a Poldark patriot, who would not sell his soul for a new arm and big muscles. He was won over by these people, and he certainly knows about these TG1s, because he hasn’t fallen behind in our training.”
In a rare smile from Trakenburg, he said, “Captain, I started out skeptical as hell, but I was feeling you out just now, because I was already committed to meeting with them, to say we know what the TG1s can do, and that I trust them to use the ability to humanity’s benefit. They will certainly learn that I damn well want to try to get that same ability for our own troops.
“We need to set up a meeting. If they are going to trust you and me, then I suspect it will be extended to General Nabarone. I don’t kid myself. They like him, and even you for that matter, far more than they do me.”
****
Thad was suspicious. “This morning you announce we’re leaving next week, and suddenly we are invited before noon to meet with Henry, Joe, and Trakenburg, all of it set up by the colonel. He wants you and me, Dillon and Sarge present, and we learn through Jakob that Ethan and Carson were pulled from a practice Special Reconnaissance mission and are flying back.”
“I can almost hear an accusation from the tone of your summation, Thad.” Mirikami told him. “All of us here know you don’t trust the colonel, and I have reservations concerning his motivations, and the means he might be willing to employ to achieve his goals. However, I’m also confident that his goal is to develop a force that can attack the Krall on their base worlds. Something Trakenburg knows we intend to do.
“What skullduggery could he engage in that would involve General Nabarone in a complicit manner? And include his subordinate, Captain Longstreet, whom I know wants us to succeed, and frankly, via a chance Tap last week, was seriously thinking of jumping ship to go with us.”
“Really?” Dillon asked. “He’s a pretty gung ho trooper. I’d not think he’d ever consider desertion.”
“Hey! Did I desert, Dillon?” Sarge quickly asked. “I’m going with you, even though I’m back on Poldark, my home, and I’m technically still in the PU Army for the duration of the war. I once swore an oath to the PU that I would help protect this planet and all of Human Space.”
“I’m sorry, Sarge. Poor choice of words. I meant he is so devoted to Special Ops. He’d be leaving that if he came with us, if we could even take him, that is. Our next stop is home.” They still avoided saying the name.
Thinking around Sarge’s offended feelings, Thad asked, “Tet, how did you find out about Joe’s intentions? Did he come to you?”
“No. A little Mind Tapper told me.”
“Then the blue bird of happiness flew up my nose. What do you mean a little ‘Mind Tapper’ told you? I thought we were no longer snooping on our allies.”
“The descriptive ‘little’ in this case is accurate. Kally Murchifem told me.” The Hub City girl was one of the smallest TGs they had, but had earned the TG1 upgrade before the Jump to Human Space by her attitude and skills.
Tet explained how the Tap had happened. “Kally wasn’t trying to Tap Joe. She had nearly taken a fall when the single rope she used to rappel down the crater wall was cut by shards of rock, detritus which someone else’s rope above her scraped loose. In a fluke, it hit right on a piton or on her anchor and cut the line. Kally instantly pulled line in and formed a large bight in her slack rope, and slung the loop over a nearby basalt projection to stop her fall. You know how crumbly these crater walls are; she said choss was falling from the base of her new support rock. She still wasn’t safe, and swinging like a barn door, dangling well away from the wall, and the chunk of basalt was slowly giving way.
“Joe was on a parallel rope near her, instructing and providing advice to the entire squad. He dropped lower and did a pendulum over to grab her hand for a moment. She attached a spare carabiner from her pocket to his line, and made the last hundred feet of the descent on his rope.
“Aside from the falling rocks and cut line, what made it unusual was a grateful comment she made when he offered her his hand, and the fact that neither was wearing gloves for the exercise’s simulated impromptu emergency descent. Kally told him she would miss him and his men’s help, after we are on our own against the Krall.
“While she grasped his hand, she saw that he desperately wanted to go with us to fight the Krall. She sensed his determination to find a way to make it happen. Kally told me, and I’ve since been trying to think of ways I can help him do that.”
Thad said, “Unless he makes it a lifetime commitment, we can’t let him know where home is located, or even its name. How could we leave him on his own there, or let him come back here after that?”
“How did we verify Sarge’s commitment, his dedication? Why do we know we can trust him?” Tet reminded them.
“Hey again! I’m standing right here, you know.”
Tet grinned. “You’re here, Sarge, because we have TG1’s that quickly discovered your honesty your commitment, and your sincere desire to jump into our illegal gene pool, in which you now stand, right up to your scrawny neck.”
“Hell. I didn’t know I was being vetted for membership to your damned club. Is there a secret handshake I missed? And my neck isn’t scrawny anymore.” He was glaring back, but had a devilish twinkle when he looked at Thad.
Tha
d matched the twinkle. “Not a handshake, Sarge. A twentieth century gang sign from Earth, just like this one that Maggi taught me.” Thad’s middle finger demonstrated.
“Oh. I’ve seen that. Behind your back, every time you think you’ve won an argument with your wife.”
“Gentle Men,” Mirikami admonished. “Aside from the fact that I’ve never observed Thad win an argument with Marlyn, I was pointing out we have the means to not only determine their sincerity, but to make them coconspirators. I believe they want to do more than join us, I think they wish they could be one of us. At home, we have the means to make them SGs, as we did Sarge, and ourselves.”
He emphasized his most salient point. “We are truly a self-made people.”
Dillon was nodding his understanding. “Twenty years ago we thought we would need three actual generations to achieve a third generation. We have TG1s now, and with new Hub technology, driven by the war the Krall forced on us, we have new med labs and the nanites we never imagined having when we started. I have not had time to analyze the templates for the new nanites we sent home, but I know Aldry and Rafe have had time since the Beagle returned. In principle, they should be able to put them to use improving our gene mod processes.
“We four have already committed to trying to reach the next generational level, just to be able to travel with our TGs. We can’t place them at risk simply because we can’t survive the same stresses they can take in stride. However, I don’t think you have to have been stranded on our planet for twenty years, or to be born there to become one of us.”
Mirikami felt smugly proud, as he sensed Dillon was on the verge of making the proposal he’d been leading towards, and making a better case than he might have done.
Dillon asked the question that, for generations to follow, would become the defining one for Koban’s place in humanity’s future.
“Why can’t we offer citizenship by applicants literally becoming one of us?” He of course meant their opting for the illegal gene mods to become a Kobani, subject to a HUB law death penalty, unfortunately.
That should tighten the loyalty bonds, thought Mirikami.
There was a moment of silence, as this enlightening question was considered.
Of course, Sarge had to sully the grand moment, slightly. “Hell yes. That makes me immigrant New Citizen Number One! I want a certificate.”
Mirikami sighed, his pride diluted. He finally got someone to announce the right decision before he had to maneuver anyone into it, or decide for him or her. Thanks to Sarge, it would become a bone-headed contest to see who would have the next lowest New Citizen number as bragging rights, because Reynolds would make sure everyone knew he was the first.
The new and improved Jakob AI intruded politely. “Excuse me Gentle Men, as I was requested to inform you, General Nabarone’s shuttle has descended into the crater, and will apparently be met by Colonel Trakenburg and Captain Longstreet. My input from the radar system on the crater rim has picked up another shuttle from the direction of the recon team exercise. Carson and Ethan should be landing in about five minutes.”
Mirikami rose out of his Bridge chair. “OK, boys, let’s use our new conference room on the next deck.” They also had two elevator systems as well as the two remaining stairwells (with railings now) on the top decks. The ship was becoming humanly comfortable.
On entering the wooden paneled room, Mirikami instructed the AI to start a pot of Earth coffee, and to direct the visitors to the room with the excessively large twenty-seat ironwood table. It was bolted to the floor, something a Living Plastic table would not have required. However, Nabarone’s largess had spared no expense, even if they had not requested such luxury. At least the general had been forced to concede that the chairs around the table had to be standard acceleration chair/couches, in the event a meeting was interrupted by an unexpected navigational need. Even there, he had provided a more expensive plastic skin that emulated the color of the table. As Nabarone had said several times, “It’s good to be The General.”
It took longer for the brass to arrive than it did Carson and Ethan, who arrived before the coffee was ready. Greeting everyone, Mirikami offered the two young men a cup of the heavenly brew.
“No thanks, Uncle Tet,” they both declined. Mirikami shook his head sadly at the deprived upbringing Koban had forced on the younger generation. They didn’t enjoy many of the new supply of ‘treats” the older generation had missed for so many years. The one exception was that nearly all of the TGs liked peanut butter and various types of jelly. They had never had chocolate bars before either, although chocolate flavoring itself was a favorite now at home.
Mirikami was personally repelled by a new combination, peanut butter and chocolate bar sandwiches, which most of the TGs loved. Dillon was an enthusiastic consumer of this new commodity, and liked his warmed slightly. He ate with the gooey two main ingredients dripping onto his plate as he washed it down with cold milk, and used a finger to scrape up the dripped mixture. Yet, he claimed a refined upbringing on Rhama.
Mirikami relished the sushi cuisine he had discovered was available from a small town, located not too far from their extinct volcano camp. They even served some of his favorites, imported frozen unfortunately, from the seas of New Honshu, his home world that he had not visited since his mother died over thirty years ago. He convinced Dillon and Thad to try a few dishes, but the uncultured thugs nearly spit the delectable raw fish and Shari onto their plates, halting the act only when the glare from their friend (and Captain) gave them reason to pause. They smiled, holding the partly chewed decoratively rolled tidbits in their mouths, as they both reached for the saké cups. They washed it all down in a single gulp.
After that, the saké seemed to disappear frequently from their cups. Their true misfortune was that the 18% alcohol was metabolized by their gene mod enhancements faster than they could possibly get drunk, so they never lost their sense of taste. Mirikami took fiendish delight in keeping the various dishes coming, while he kept misplacing the bottles of saké.
Today, except for coffee and hard liquor, the latter always needed if Nabarone were visiting, there were no snacks available. They didn’t know what was delaying the three officers, since they had time to have beaten Carson and Ethan here if they had walked directly to the Mark of Koban, which they still only knew as simply named the Mark.
The older men used the time to their advantage, briefing the two TG1’s on what they thought the meeting might be about today. They both agreed that all of the TGs had the impression that the spec ops instructors were envious of where they were going, and what they would be doing. Some openly wanted to go along.
Several days ago, the SGs had participated in an intelligence briefing from the Navy, concerning long-range scout missions that had found a number of Krall inhabited planets, one of which was definitely a production world for clanships. The Navy would have been astonished if they had seen the Mark, a former clanship, which they didn’t, because they met at Nabarone’s headquarters.
Their real shock would have been that the navigation system on the Mark had a record of where every Krall controlled world was located. There were thousands of habitable worlds, many of which were now abandoned and empty of intelligent life, per the Krall’s own claims. The navigation system didn’t know which ones were which, dead or populated. However, there were several candidate worlds for possible raids, besides the clanship producer, to check out with a ship the Krall would not suspect as human crewed.
Mirikami asked any of them if they thought some of the spec ops would be willing to undergo gene mods if offered the chance. They all thought half might accept. At least because of their secret and isolated duty, and the selection process, many of them had few extensive ties to family in Human Space. What they cared about was their risk filled work, their fellow troopers, and leave time with women and booze. Their own physical enhancements and need for secrecy had isolated them from the mainstream population. A Booster Suit couldn’t go on lea
ve with them, and none of them liked doing without the feeling of strength it provided.
While this general discussion continued, Mirikami separated a bit, and asked Jakob where the three officers were.
“Sir, they entered the Dead Zone, where I can’t monitor or see them.” That was a secure room for meetings, where no AI or any external electronic monitoring could penetrate.
Mirikami tugged at his lip. This was apparently something they were springing on Nabarone, before the meeting. Henry wasn’t the biggest fan of Trakenburg, and he was unlikely to object to the Mark’s departure since he knew it was inevitable. Nor should he much care if some of the spec ops wanted to tag along. This extended conversation suggested something Nabarone might object to, or need some convincing. They were already twenty minutes late, and Trakenburg was normally the punctuality freak.
He turned back to the others, only to discover they had become quiet, and were looking at him, as he fingered his lower lip.
“What?”
Dillon asked for them all. “You tell us, ‘oh lip tugging seer.’ You have something on your mind. Do the tardy brass hats have anything to do with your thoughts?”
He nodded. “I’m wondering what they had to tell Henry that took them to the Dead Zone, and made on-the-dot Trakenburg late for a meeting. It has to be something involved to last this long, and Trakenburg apparently couldn’t risk telling Henry before he arrived. It’s taking longer to explain or to convince Henry than expected. I think it must be tied to our departure, but it is more than some spec ops types asking to go along. Henry, to use his usual vernacular, might say ‘I don’t give a damn,’ and tell them to just go ask us.”
Koban: Rise of the Kobani Page 39