Koban 5: A Federation Forged in Fire

by Stephen W Bennett

  Ethan also shoved his friends back down into their seats as he too bulled past them, saying in way of apology, “She was mother to us both.” He of course was referring to his mom, Captain Marlyn Rodriguez, who had been killed on the Beagle in the previous attack on K1. Her family all felt the need for retribution. Her other two human children were here in other small ships with some of Kit’s cubs, which were Marlyn’s grandchildren, and her husband Thad Greeves was piloting a Kobani ship. Each had personal scores to settle.

  As soon as Ethan cleared the hatch, he was fired on. Or rather, the small ship was fired at, since he was in stealthed armor. The hatch, standing open as it was, spoiled the four-ship’s stealth effect by revealing the interior of the small craft. Four Krall that were loading one of the clanships were standing in the open hold that faced where Ethan had landed. They saw the hatch open a hole in the air, which revealed the craft’s presence. Then a blur of teal flashed out, which none of these low status novices recognized as a ripper, never having been to Koban.

  They certainly knew that the stealthed craft didn’t belong here and they snatched up their nearby plasma rifles. Their failure to activate the power packs instantly forced them to use the logical alternative, which as recently graduated novices they had on their hips, or in chest and shoulder holsters. These were their much-used and cherished pistols, brought from their recent training on their clan’s present nest world. Plasma rifles had been provided late in their training, but they were far more proficient with the slug throwers. Or so they thought.

  The instant Ethan had seen the first muzzle flash he’d dived to the side, which left him partly shielded by one of the Dragons, and he rolled next to its side. Even before he could Comtap a warning to Fred and Jorl, a glance back at the hatch as he rolled revealed they had seen the first rounds strike inside the cabin, and both dove headfirst through the hatch, one to the left and one to the right, and Ethan could see their ghostly suit outlines on his visor. They were fine, and had taken positions behind other Dragons next to his own cover.

  Except Ethan didn’t see Kit, and she didn’t appear on his visor as an icon of course. She’d been only a glimpse of teal between two Dragons as he came out. There were at least four Krall inside the hold with pistols, and Kit wasn’t stealthed or armed with anything that nature hadn’t provided her.

  He was regretting letting her come along when he heard Krall snarls of rage through his mic pickup, then an ear punishing roar reverberated out of the metal enclosed hold. That was instantly followed by multiple terror screams that cut off in mid cry, one after another.

  He leaped up, clearing the Dragon he was behind in a single bound, with his beam weapons armed and at the ready, seeking targets to kill to defend his older unarmed sister from the murderous Krall.

  What he saw as he descended in what felt like slow motion to the tarmac, was three torn apart Krall warriors on the down sloping ramp, some with limbs scattered, one without a head, and he heard more screams of terror from deeper within the hold, instantly drowned out by a second mighty roar.

  “Come on,” he urged his two friends. “Kit needs our help.” His next desperate running leap in K1’s lighter gravity took him twenty feet up and into the darkened hold, and he heard his comrades touch down on the deck lightly behind him.

  He saw his poor defenseless sister, lying apparently wounded on the deck ahead of him, and his heart rose into his throat as he rushed to her side, his metal gauntlet conductive enough to convey a solid frill contact.

  “Do you want this one alive?” was the cold question he received, in a deadly emotion that he’d never sensed from Kit before. He detected through the slight filtering effect of his armored hand, a feeling of terror and fear emanating through her frill. He immediately laughed in a release of tension, when he realized she wasn’t down on the deck because she was wounded.

  She completely covered and was holding the limbs secure of a large and terrified Krall warrior, pinned to the deck under her full weight. She was frilling the injured and frightened Krall, enjoying his thoughts of fear as she transmitted her own savage thoughts directly into its mind. These were gruesome thoughts, full of fangs, claws, shredded guts, ripped off limbs, and the taste of Krall blood. This warrior had seen her easily tear through his clan mates, faster than they could move to get away, and unable to adjust their aim quickly enough to target the twisting and leaping fanged apparition from hell coming after them.

  Before he answered Kit’s question, he relayed an inquiry to the Krall he could barely see on the deck under Kit, who he realized was looking up into the bloodied maw breathing hot breath into its face.

  “How many warriors are aboard this clanship?”

  The image of four more hands of Krall appeared, forced from its mind by the only terror this Krall had ever experienced. They had been told a body count was less important than a count of clanships disabled today. Nevertheless, there were scores to settle for him and Kit. His Comtap to Fred and Jorl was brief.

  “Get our rifles from the four-ship and continue the mission. Leave my rifle on the top of the ramp. Kit and I need to eliminate this threat to our four-ship, and we’ll rejoin you shortly.” He couldn’t see their understanding nods before they quietly and quickly turned to return to the small craft. They specifically didn’t remind him that all he needed to do was close the portal of this ship, which would trap any Krall inside, safely locked away from the small ship.

  He answered Kit’s question. “We don’t need any of them on this ship alive.” He was perfectly aware that his harsh thoughts were conveyed to the squirming Krall underneath Kit. For the first time in his life, Ethan savored the “taste” of fear coming from this Krall. It was something that rippers craved at the end of a hunt, and that humans had not evolved to desire. The hunt wasn’t finished inside this clanship yet, and Ethan would see to it that any locked doors that might prevent Kit from completing the hunt would be opened for her.

  When this initial “taste” had expired, they moved silently up the closest steps together, seeking another sixteen similar flavors. There could never be repayment for the loss of their mother, but at least they would personally extract a measure of payback, a mere token that her death had been answered in part.

  In a pointless bit of ludicrous rationalization, Ethan thought to Kit, “It isn’t a waste of meat, because the damaged countryside clearly can use their nutrients.”

  ****

  Carson, standing on top and center of the dome where they had hoped to find Telour, was disappointed when he heard of Carol’s Mind Tap results. That meant he and his four-ship team would only blast their way into the command center they could see directly below them, and needed to go no farther down.

  There were several hands of Krall visible through the armored glass under their feet, attempting to activate automatic planetary defenses or to find clanships in orbit that could attack the enemy, or they were trying to order more on the ground to launch. Some of the orbiting ships initially could communicate, but soon after they reported that there were boarders entering other clanships, all reports ended.

  They had many remotely controlled heavy laser batteries capable of targeting orbital targets, but shortly after they fired their first beams at suspected targets, they remained online as shown on monitors, but would no longer respond to firing commands from the command center. Unlike dome-to-dome communications, they didn’t have hard lines to them, and used radio control. This matched reports of human ECM use in past raids on production worlds.

  The command center then used landlines to order warriors in domes near where the laser batteries were located, to leave the domes and manually aim and fire at targets of opportunity. An inefficient method, but at least that was a means of fighting back. The replies from those warriors eventually came only after they returned to the dome landlines, reporting the battery controls would not respond to them. That was when the truth began to reveal itself.

  It wasn’t merely a planet wide ECM communica
tions suppression. Their weapons and clanships would not activate for them even when they applied direct physical control.

  Even when the equipment was already switched on, the devices would not permit a warrior to operate them. Exactly as the equipment was designed to do when an enemy species tried to commandeer Krall war material.

  Warriors on the top floor of the dome reported seeing repeated muzzle flashes above them, through the clear armored ceiling. There were scuffmarks appearing in the inevitable dust and bird droppings, which accumulated on the roof between weekly cleanings by their Prada workers. Someone unseen was up there shooting, and it had to be humans in stealthed armor. Only that was an odd and seemingly ineffective way to attack them. The flashes were similar to projectile weapons fire, and it appeared directed outward at the tarmac, but there were primarily clanships out there, unaffected by such light weapons.

  Hothkar, a high-ranking aide to the Tor ordered warriors up to the roof of the dome, through maintenance hatches at the edges. Since their plasma rifles had somehow been rendered useless, he ordered all of the ancient design projectile firing pistols and rifles to be brought out of storage, along with ammunition. These had been stored away for use on a future species, when another race for them to conquer was inevitably encountered.

  That was not expected to happen again for the thousand years they had intended to continue fighting with humans. Nearly every warrior kept a favorite pistol for death challenges, hunting, or as a reserve weapon, usually the one they were presented with in novice training. Fortunately, there were tens of millions of the old weapons stored for future use, and a few hundred thousand of them were in the bowels of most domes.

  Hothkar naturally didn’t wait for the weapons to be brought up to the top of the dome. He sent warriors with their personal weapons to the outer rim compartments where the steps leading to the roof hatches were located. He should have let them use the human method of getting through to the other side of the clear dome material quickly, which was demonstrated for them quite effectively.

  The explosion shattered the six large panels directly over the command center consoles, spreading sharp shards downward at the high status warriors, who were trying to figure out where the bulk of the enemy was, and what their goals were. That was about to become painfully obvious. The tough clear armored window material, when stressed beyond its tensile strength by shaped charges, shattered into scintillating shards of large and small splinters in the sunlight.

  Roughly counting, ten or twelve warriors dropped to the floor dead, a pretty looking and sparkling spear sticking through the tops or sides of their skulls. Most of the thirty or so other warriors had fragments protruding from shoulders, backs, torso and legs. They hurt, and some were mildly debilitating, but tearing them out by hand allowed the fast coagulating Krall blood and capillary system to stop the bleeding. The pain they simply ignored.

  Hothkar, by lucky happenstance wasn’t at his normally central cluster of consoles. He had been to one side, issuing instructions to those he was directing to climb up to meet the humans. Redundant orders now, since the humans had politely come to call all on their own.

  Their courtesy didn’t last long, and beam weapons started burning the guns in hands that held them or were in their holsters before they could be drawn for use. There were instant cases of death among certain classes of warriors, but they were always those dressed in black or brown uniforms. The higher status blue uniformed Krall were more likely to be spared, but their pistols were destroyed.

  The attack went amazingly fast and efficiently. Hothkar noted this with professional interest, pulling a six-inch long piece of crystal from his cheek just below his left eye. He had his pistol out and managed to get off several shots as he dove to one side to avoid the rapid counter fire. If it weren’t for the laser beams from the enemy, he would have had difficulty finding targets in the thick haze of the explosion. The smoke did help briefly, by revealing motion of the otherwise invisible assailants. A stiff breeze through the open roof was disbursing the haze quickly. There were surprisingly few of them. He detected only six of them that were firing but he saw movement closer to the floor, and some dark shape that obviously wasn’t stealthed.

  From its large size, he assumed it was one of his warriors, and held his fire, scanning in another direction for the enemy. It was a mistake, and one he wouldn’t repeat if he ever had a second chance. The roar from the shadow nearly coagulated his blood as it flowed in his veins. It struck terror into both of his hearts, as he clearly recognized the sound from his younger years as a low status warrior on Koban. That shadow was a ripper, and from past hunting experience and a narrow escape, he knew it was too late to save his life, even if he shot and hit the giant cat. He was about to be torn open and eaten while still breathing. As he’d seen happen to two clan mates on the same hunt.

  It didn’t keep him from trying. He swiveled his wrist to point in the general direction of his onrushing killer, it was all he could do in the two hundredths of a second he had. He suddenly was stunned by the second silent shadow he hadn’t seen from his side, coming in the typical ripper style flanking ambush. It struck him a tremendous bone-crushing blow, jaws opened wide with the long top fangs penetrating his thick upper left arm, and the lower canines breaking through thick ribs along his left back. He convulsively squeezed the trigger, getting off a single shot before he was lifted bodily and shaken like a rag doll in the massive jaws, and he lost his pistol.

  He felt the power in those jaws that shook him so easily, and he screamed in pain and fear, knowing the ripper could crush through his left arm and torso if it chose to do so. He hoped for a swift death before it ripped out his entrails and started feeding. Then it surprisingly dropped him.

  Suddenly, two of the blue-green shadows were poised over him, as he was rolled onto his back by a massive paw, using black claws sharper, harder, and longer than his own inch long sharpened talons. They both lowered their heads towards him, and he was convince they were about to share the rending his body for their meal. He closed his eyes in terror as he felt the soft touches along the sides of his head.

  The question, in Standard, startled him almost beyond words. “Where is Telour?”

  He answered in low Krall, “Kill me quickly.”

  Another question came in Standard, which this time he realized was not spoken, and came with a sense of pain in the background. It simply appeared in his mind, in a human voice. “Where is Telour hiding? Speak Standard. You wear the suit of blue, so you know the way to speak to us.”

  “Telour isn’t here. He is traveling. Kill me quickly, before you start to eat.”

  “You taste too dirty, and your meat is stringy and dry. Say where Telour traveled or we will pull out your organs to decide what can be eaten.” A very vivid mental image came to him of exactly that happening, while his mind sensed the pain he’d expect to experience. He watched the mental image squirming in pain and screaming. That generated a tremendous sense of terror in his mind, which somehow seemed to please the two rippers pressed against him. That sense of their pleasure from his fear, similar to those one he’d experienced as he’d killed humans slowly, brought him to the verge of whimpering. Being on the receiving end wasn’t quite the pleasant feeling he had when he was delivering a slow and painful death.

  Both rippers suddenly drew back, a feeling of disgust clearly sent to his mind before they broke contact. Hothkar heard words in Standard again, but this time he knew it was actually spoken.

  Carson walked up to the pair. “Kobalt, Kally, did he tell you anything? Two other blue suits say this one should know.” There was a moment of silence for Hothkar, but he saw a human in armor ripple into view, one hand on the back of the neck of each ripper.

  The helmeted face turned away and looked at the larger of the two demons, clearly a mature male. “Damn it Kobalt, you’re shot. How bad?” There was another moment of silence as they exchanged thoughts, which the Krall was naturally unaware was happening.

/>   A second armored human rippled into sight, and Carson linked. “Danner, Kobalt was shot in the chest by chance when your sister Kayla bit down on this Krall scum. Get hold of someone to come treat him.”

  He turned to speak to Kobalt. “Don’t move too much. Danner will apply a smart bandage. Kally, watch over your uncle.”

  The human then knelt by Hothkar, who tried to strike him in the helmet with his right hand. He got another broken arm for his effort, to match the one the ripper gave him on his left, although this one wasn’t a compound fracture. “That’s my brother you shot you piece of shit. I’ll cut you open and make you eat pieces of one of your own hearts if you give me the slightest excuse.”

  A horrifyingly more detailed image than before came into the Krall’s mind, which he somehow knew came through the bare hand the human placed on top of his head. This was actually more frightening because he sensed the barely repressed urge to slice out one of his two hearts, and dice it into bloody cubes to feed to him.

  He tried to move either of his legs, to try to lift one to kick or rake talons against the human. A futile gesture against armor he knew, but he’d like to toss him across the room and perhaps provoke a swift death in retaliation. The futility was compounded when he realized he couldn’t feel either of his legs. No pain, and in fact no feeling at all below his midsection. The ripper had broken his thick and sturdy spinal column at his hips when she shook him. He wondered how he knew that it was a female ripper and the one he’d wounded was a male. He’d seen only their heads and necks. It had been implicit in their thoughts, he realized. That was odd, that he knew what the animal’s thoughts were.

  Unable to move, thinking was all that he could do. He thought of the most recent words the human had said to him, the threat to cut out one heart. It occurred to him that the words had been delivered in high Krall, but not through the speakers on the human’s suit in Standard, as he’d used when he first arrived. A human didn’t have the capability to make those ultrasonic sounds, yet that was what he’d perceived just now. A moment of reflection, and he knew the words had appeared directly in his mind, without any actual sound. Delivered via the hand on top of his head.