Koban: Rise of the Kobani

by Stephen W Bennett

  It was at the edge of the woods that Gotrak was able to see the dome and tarmac, where most of the clans hard earned clanship resources were parked. His IR vision revealed which ship had just landed, by the hot ramp and thrusters, although his battlefield memory, if examined, would have helped him find the new ovoid in the plump forest of clanships.

  Whoever had arrived, they had opened a portal, but not lowered the ramp. That suggested they had jumped down and were running to the dome. He looked under the maze of clanships without real curiosity, to see if he might see Dorkda running towards the dome, perhaps with news that would improve each of the instructor’s moods, if there were a promise of real warfare for them soon.

  There was nothing moving on the tarmac. He looked away and checked with his octet leaders on progress towards the “enemy” camp, which because they had placed lookouts in the woods, knew about his approaching “raiders.” This could become an entertaining morning, even before the sun rose very high.

  Looking back to the dome, he instantly noticed that four portals were now open on other clanships near the new arrival. Most of the parked ships had not been entered for almost a year, other than a cursory check of the command deck consoles and thruster engines for power left active or fuel leaks. Could this be a sign that a returning envoy was verifying the preparedness of some of their clanships for a raid? Gotrak would prefer to participate in activity such as that, instead of the tedious but required duty he now fulfilled.

  As he watched, one of the four portals closed, but in seconds another ship’s portal, on the opposite side of the new arrival ship, sprang open. There was no one in sight, no movement. These must have been operated remotely, from the dome or the new ship. He continued to monitor the activity in the woods, but checked the tarmac frequently. All of the original portals were now closed, but five other ships had one portal opened where he could see into the hold.

  That very thought was interesting. He realized that looking through the one portal facing towards the woods he was able to see than none of the other portals was opened. The dome could not see this activity. That prodded him to remember why the ships were periodically checked. To ensure they were truly shut down, that no warrior that wanted to learn how to pilot had activated a console. No one could remotely open a portal if the consoles were inactive. However, he’d seen seven of them opened so far, and most were now reclosed. Only a warrior manually pressing the keypads could open the portals, but he had seen no activity or movement at any of the ships.

  While he was watching, another portal facing him, on a different clanship sprang open. He didn’t have a helmet or digital vision enhancers, but this was only two miles away. He could even see the outline of the keypads by the portals. There was no one there.

  Gotrak called his fellow instructors and quickly told them what he’d seen. All of them had noticed the ship arrival of course, because it was uncommon during the seasons of novice training at a smaller clan like theirs. With their confirmation, he called the dome observers on duty at the top level, to ask if they knew who this arrival was.

  They had not had contact with the arrival’s crew, and had expected the pilot or commander eventually to enter the dome to report to the clan leader. Gotrak learned that Dorkda was actually not expected to return before the next winter.

  When he mentioned the periodic portal openings and closings that he had seen on multiple clanships, the dome observers were surprised, because they said they had not seen any from their vantage point. There was a pause, and then a new voice.

  “Gotrak, I sent no warriors to those clanships, this must be an interclan raid.” It was clan leader Hashtok’s voice. “These raids are forbidden by the council, but smaller new finger clans do not have clanships to go to the war on Poldark. They could try to take ours. Take a force and seek them out before they have a chance to lift. Move fast and stay hidden. They will be watching the dome if we move from here.” Then he added, “For the Path and clan stop them.”

  This order demanded instant and maximum reaction, no questions. He stiffened, his left arm out with talons extended, and said, “I salute the Path and our clan.” The only reply allowed.

  His action and words galvanized the warriors that overheard him. They knew only one command justified that reply.

  Gotrak repeated Hashtok’s suspicion and his instructions. As the clan leaders designated voice for this action, the warriors near him each repeated the required reply.

  “I salute our clan.”

  Gotrak addressed them all. “Send the most trusted novice runners to gather as many of the trainers as can be found and lead them here.”

  He had a simple basic plan, which he explained to several warriors. He singled one out now. “Fittdot, you will stay hidden inside the tree line to instruct how the movement to the tarmac will be done. One warrior will lead no more than three novices, who must stay directly in line behind the lead warrior until told to attack the enemy. A second warrior will be behind them to keep them in line. The lead warriors will use our parked ships as cover from the intruder clanship. You must cross the open terrain to the tarmac by running as fast as possible towards the enemy ship, with it always behind another ship. They must not see us coming from their view screens, or they could launch immediately with as many of our ships as they are able to steal. We must get inside our occupied ships and kill them all. I will lead the first line.”

  He pointed at an octet. “I want three novices to follow me, and another warrior behind them to keep them moving. They will not fully understand what we do or why, but the chance to kill a clan enemy will give them spirit.”

  He quickly shifted position in the trees until a parked ship blocked his view of the enemy clanship. He looked at the three novices, and the warrior behind them. “Follow me, as fast as you can run. We fight for great honor and our clan.”

  He turned and started across the expanse of pale orange grass at a ground-eating pace that seemed too fast for slightly bowed, muscular legs, which were a bit shorter than their arms. A second and third string of instructors and novices followed on that same path, and farther along the tree line, other strings started across, and using different parked ships to block a view of them.

  It was a long distance in the open, but their opponents gave no sign they had been spotted. Even before he reached the cover of the clanship he was using for cover, Gotrak detected a flaw in his hasty strategy. His memory held the picture of which ships on the ramp he had seen with portals opened. Most had already shut those portals. He didn’t know how their clan rivals had moved without being seen on the tarmac, but once inside closed ships that was irrelevant. He was the only one that could send warriors and novices to the correct ships, those he knew had been targeted.

  Pausing behind a landing jack of the first ship they reached, he explained the problem to the trailing warrior. “That ship,” he pointed, “is one of those they opened. Try to reach it by concealment and enter. I will direct the others to the targeted clanships. Go.”

  He repeated the directions for subsequent teams, but he had no silent way to inform the other approaches. Fortunately, there must have been warriors with them that had also seen some of the open portals, because they slipped around the landing jacks, going in the right directions. He cursed his rushed plan that had found a way to prevent him from making the first attack on their enemy.

  Gotrak and every clan member on the ramp knew that the time for sneaking had passed when the first thrusters were activated. Some of these were ships he’d seen warriors and novices open a portal and enter, unopposed. At least two hands of warriors and novices died when the blast of thrusters of clanships ignited and burned them to cinders, which blew flaming over the tarmac. Some of their ships were being taken from them.

  He started running towards where he’d been hearing sounds of shooting and screams of rage. He spotted a number of dead instructors and novices on the ground below a ship, with fighting continuing inside. He was on the verge of joining them when
he heard the thrum of fuel pumps and knew the clanship was about to lift, and he could not get inside before that happened.

  He stepped into the lee of a landing jack for protection and survived the heat of liftoff, singed and battered, as the ship rose with at least one portal locked open. He’d heard fighting inside, but unless they closed that portal, the fumes and then vacuum would cut the fight short. Another ship probably lost. He was enraged beyond measure.

  There was still some shooting, but it was well across the tarmac from him, past the enemy clanship. If he ran over there, he would likely arrive too late again to help prevent another launch, and watch another lost Maldo asset roar into the red sky.

  It came to him! There was another possibility. He might prevent the enemy clanship from escaping. It was surely too well defended for him to enter and try to overpower the crew. However, there was a more destructive and final alternative. It might permit them to find out who violated the interclan warfare ban, and give them a chance at revenge and compensation.

  He leaped onto a portal rim on the cooler side of the clanship where he had taken refuge. The door rushed open and he raced and leaped up the darkened stairs closest to him. Half a life spent in clanships made even nearly total darkness no obstacle to a rapid ascent. There was a trace of warmth to furnish an outline of the stairwell.

  Gotrak was confident that the last time this craft was used on a raid, it had returned with most of its defensive and offensive armament fully functional. After all, it was parked on this side of the ramp, instead of where the Prada and Torki performed most maintenance of damaged clanships.

  Flying gracefully over the railing at the top, he rushed to the closest console on the command deck. It didn’t matter which he chose. It came up nearly instantly after at least a year of inactivity. He gave no thanks to the Olt’kitapi designers, because a Krall thanked no one, for anything.

  His former stint in pilot training returned dividends now as he quickly found the controls that had always interested him most, more so than flying. It was the lack of interest in flying that had ended his clanship pilot training. Instead, he became a weapons master, using the plasma cannons and heavy lasers on raids. One of his seldom-used tools of destruction was the racks of various type missiles. He had missed the fights with the human space ships when they twice attacked their base in Human Space, Telda Ka. Maldo clan was too low in status to have a dome there.

  He would finally have a chance to use one of the missiles to knock the rival clan’s ship out of the sky as they tried to depart. Its launch had to be imminent, and he didn’t understand why they had not lifted the moment the counter attacks began.

  A Krall could not grasp the concept of a leader staying behind to protect subordinates. Survive, or die was their typical attitude. All he had to do was be patient. No need to risk damage to other ships on the tarmac if he let it gain altitude.

  Suddenly, he was presented with a golden double opportunity for destruction, as the last of the purloined ships started lifting with a tentative acceleration, and portals still open. The warriors he had sent had not been able to reach the command deck. This would be a mixed blessing, because he was about to destroy a ship that felt to him like it was still clan property, even if it was about to be taken.

  He set targeting on it with two anti-ship missiles, which initially refused to lock on because of the close proximity. He would simply let it reach several miles and take it down with a double tail shot. That idea was promptly modified when he saw the flash and heard the rumble of another launch. It was his main target. He tried setting three missiles to track that hated target, but again the short range frustrated him. He’d have to wait. However, he’d make certain that commander would know what was coming.

  The first ship would be high enough in seconds, and the other clan’s mission commander would see it die, knowing his ship was next. He was poised over the firing command when suddenly he felt a violent jar, and heard a series of six external explosions. He instantly felt the deck vibrate and start a slight tilt. The noses of two other clanships in his view were also leaning.

  In a fraction of a second, with a flash of understanding, Gotrak released all five missiles for launch, recognizing in a scream of rage that his enemy had managed to destroy this, and other ships on the tarmac with explosives.

  Waiting for his own death to greet him, he watched as the first two missiles streaked out from side mounted ports. However, the other three missiles had interlocks that would delay their launch while waiting for greater range. He held onto the increasing slope of the console as he rapidly tapped the override to launch the last three missiles at point blank range. At least one of them should hit home.

  He had the satisfaction of seeing both of his hypervelocity first missiles impact on the aft section of the higher ship. It blossomed at the rear, and started to fall off to the side. The direction of its drift suddenly became of critical interest to him. He realized with horror that it was descending close to the clan’s main dome. Suddenly, the three other hypervelocity missiles blazed forth, as his ship’s tilt reached twenty degrees.

  They had such a short travel time, and the enemy ship was so low that it was under two seconds of travel time for them to reach their objective. Even without active guidance at this close range, Gotrak could see one exhaust trail was dead-on for a side impact, and the other two would miss by a small amount. With proximity fusing, they might still deliver significant damage. He could die knowing he took his killer with him.

  The well-targeted missile hit the side of the rising clanship, and…, struck and crumpled against the hull without exploding. The other two passed it by, only to detonate when they had traveled far enough past it to exceed their minimal travel before the warheads armed. They were well beyond any threat to the intended target when they detonated.

  Five seconds, to a creature bred to react in a hundredth of a second, is an eternity in which to experience despair and painful, wrenching, defeat. He had failed to do serious damage to the enemy ship, and it would escape. He saw on the now greatly tilted view screen that the ship he had managed to kill wasn’t dying without a fight.

  The main thruster and lower part of the ship was in shreds, pieces falling away, the main engine having automatically cut off. The pieces were able to fall away faster than the dying ship could have fallen, because the ship was using its undamaged upper attitude thrusters to delay its descent. On second consideration, he knew it wasn’t a fight to delay the fall; it had repositioned itself for the inevitable crash.

  He believed with certainty that it would no longer fall close to the dome containing his clan leader, the primary nest area, and the only below ground factory complex his clan possessed. Instead, it was maneuvering for a dead center hit!

  The side thrusters gave their last flash of blue plasma support and winked off. He would not be alive to see it fall the nearly one mile distance, because he was within fifty feet of the sides of his ship rupturing on the tarmac, spilling the tens of thousands of pounds of thruster propellant and oxidizer, which would ignite on contact with one another. The other toppling ships near him would suffer similar fireball fates, because Krall efficiency maintained them all fully fueled for instant use.

  He was privileged to watch these final events, which he had partly set in motion, and would result in the dissolution of the finger clan he had devoted his entire existence to expanding.

  ****

  “Captain Mirikami, I have devoted all of my career and much of my life to destroying the Krall. This is a capstone to that career, helping to take a dome filled with them out with me. It was an honor and privilege, Sir.”

  For a man about to drop to his death, Colonel Trakenburg was remarkably calm, and sounded peaceful.

  “Frank, I’m sorry. I should have blown those other ships sooner.”

  “And we might have lost you and the Mark in the process. War happens, Tet. Lieutenant Bader has made our end more than a fair trade, thanks to her skill.” He let he
r have the last word.

  “I lost my fear of the Krall, Captain. I tore a finger off a warrior with one hand, and then I blew off his head. He was actually afraid of me! My fear is gone. I know they can see us falling, and thousands more are afraid. You made it possible. Thank you, and goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, Jackie, Frank. If you can contact the others below, tell them how proud we are of all of you.”

  He knew from the severe damage to the lowest decks of the now freefalling ship that the other three had died instantly.

  The final seconds were silent on radio, but the dwindling tarmac below the rising Mark blossomed in six huge, overlapping orange and black billows of flame, smoke, and spinning sections of clanships. That was followed by the devastating impact of the clanship on the dome, with a similar, single orange and black blossom of death.

  There was no sense of satisfaction in Mirikami’s heart or mind. Their losses, when weighed against the tremendous damage done to this Krall clan, might seem a fair trade to Frank and Jackie, and the other three. However, Mirikami measured them as friends, and by what else they might have accomplished in the future. This was only one minor clan.

  He checked with Thad, who reported that the missile impact had penetrated the hull, partway into a compartment filled with missile reloads. Not that this would have made them any deader, if it had detonated those along with its own warhead. Automatic sealer had ended the atmosphere leak, and they could remove the shattered weapon and warhead at the rendezvous system.

  “Thad, does the warhead seem stable? No risk to us if we jostle the thing?”

  “Jakob told me that even though it didn’t reach its maximum velocity, the camera and hull sensors show it crushed its warhead before the range failsafe was released. It’s only the center of the missile, the guidance and propulsion systems, that its momentum managed to push through to inside. The explosive material is a type that can’t blow up simply because you bang it around. It’s smeared around on the hull, but safe. Why? What were you thinking of doing that will cause a jostle?” He had a suspicion.