Koban 5: A Federation Forged in Fire

by Stephen W Bennett

  Oswald nodded, and offered a comment. “I’m still part of the administration at this moment, but that’s coming to an end. After I have severed my ties, I intend to speak out on things that my confidentiality agreement does not cover. No one ever anticipated tonight’s events, and I was an eyewitness. I’m not constrained to keep silent on such a well-covered public event, and for which the diplomatic actions have already been aired so widely. I’ll have no official standing in the government by then, but I intend to be a public advocate for the PU to establish diplomatic relations with the Galactic Federation.”

  Both of them offered their thanks, as the press started back up the steps. A ring of fully visible Kobani had formed close around the Federation representatives, leaving Telour’s corpse out of that circle.

  Maggi said, “I think we’ll be leaving now Mister Secretary. I don't believe any ceremony will be happening tonight. However, we have over a thousand people on our ship that want to remain on Earth, or at least to stay in Human Space. Some of them have views like Medford’s, and others have some limited gene mods, but are not full Kobani. They have wanted to return to their former lives for decades. Without diplomatic relations, we can’t represent them here, but some of them don’t want our representation anyway. We have left them each with adequate financial resources, which actually leaves them quite well off in Hub terms, so they can pay their own way.

  “Would you be so kind as to direct them to whatever department can help them integrate back into human society?”

  “I’ll certainly do that Gracious Lady. As soon as the press finds you are leaving people behind, I have no doubt they will receive more attention that they may desire.”

  With that, Mirikami recalled everyone to the ship, and offered anyone that wished to stay behind the opportunity to walk down Pholowela’s ramp. All but a handful of concerned clone mod returnee’s accepted, and walked on the soil of a Hub world for the first time in over two decades.

  Using his access to the distributed group speaker system, Mirikami announced the impending departure of the ship. “I request that observers remain on the paved areas, or at a distance of at least two hundred feet. Prepare to brace yourselves and cover your ears when the ship lifts clear of the ground by a few feet. We will safely enter a Jump Hole at that point, and the thunderclap of air rushing into the space vacated will be loud and jarring.

  “The answer to the question of whether we need to Jump from this deep in the gravity well is no, of course not. Demonstrating the technology of this craft, part of which we have started to adapt for the four thousand five hundred ships of our fleet, is impressive. This will make for a spectacular and memorable exit on Tri-Vid. I must add that the time of travel from here to Koban, using an advanced mode of Travel in Tachyon Space, is a matter of hours, not of weeks. Our ships will have an advantage when we engage in shipping and passenger transport. It also means the Galactic Federation has access to the full volume of territory we have won by defeating the Krall Empire, with most worlds reachable within a day of travel or less. We’ll be resuming contacts with the Planetary Union when your leadership becomes more open minded.”

  Those leaving the ship moved onto the pavement, and then crossed the wide boulevard to add a greater buffer. The last of the Kobani filed aboard, and the ramp retracted as the airlock irised closed. It was only a minute before the big ship lifted gently, and rose to a few feet.

  The departure was definitely a thunderous blast.

  Chapter 9: Odds and Ends

  “I hope the hell this nutty mercy idea doesn’t blow up in our faces.” Sarge had been dubious about this plan to preserve some of the Krall from the start.

  Thad wasn’t so pessimistic. “Tet isn’t leaving them with a scrap of modern technology on the planet, or a way to industrialize on a large scale. This is a world the Olt’kitapi had essentially stripped of mineral resources over a span of tens of thousands of years, then restored the local ecology to its original state, and left it to return to a condition untouched by civilization. That was well before they helped the early Krall leave their own planet. There isn’t much potential here for them to rearm and ever threaten another species, even if we forget they’re here in a thousand years.”

  “That’s pure crap about rearming. For example, do you see the skinny slow growing hardwood trees outside with the spikey limbs? Those will make excellent spears, javelins, and arrows. There are other springy wood trees to make bows or catapults. They have dumb and trusting herds of big animals to eat here, and can use their long bones as clubs, spear tips, and knives, their dried gut to make bowstrings, and shaggy hair for weaving, or textiles for uniforms.”

  Thad shrugged. “OK. I’ll grant you that much. Although, that probably represents the height of their future technology, except for flint arrowheads. Maggi and the other brains that studied this ball of dirt say this place was left fallow perhaps thirty thousand years ago. There are small deposits of iron and other metals that were not worth exploiting, but no large reserves for building a powerhouse war based culture.” He added more reasons.

  “The Krall were never interested in this planet because they didn’t have to take it away from its occupants, thus no status points earned. The coordinates of this star is in the navigation systems of every ship we captured, so they knew there was a habitable planet here. They didn’t so much as plant a finger clan here because here’s no sign of dilapidated domes anywhere. There were no resources for a Prada operated factory.

  “The Olt’kitapi demolished their own structures and all signs of past industry when they departed. We can only see the ancient foundations from space, using ground-penetrating radar. Besides, the Krall we’re stranding here don’t know how to build shit…” He paused to reconsider.

  “No, I’m wrong. They can certainly make that, and throw it at each other. But most of those we’re transporting here were barely into novice training. They have few skills or education.”

  Sarge was still skeptical. He had thought it safest if this single-minded genocidal enemy were exterminated. “The frigging Krall will make weapons and attack anyone that mistakenly lands here. Then they’ll have a way to get off planet. Look what you did to get off Koban. I was a prisoner on the clanship that became the Mark, in case your feeble memory has failed you again. That could be the case, since you drew to an inside straight yet again last night.” Poker was still a favored diversion for the two men, even for the shorter one-day Jumps of T-cubed travel.

  Thad defended his one card draw. “The pot was big enough to make the odds worth calling your small bet to get another card. It worked out nice, didn’t it? You shouldn’t have called my next big raise, pin head. I beat the hell out of your set of Kings,” he taunted. He’d won the biggest pot of the night, and thoroughly annoyed Sarge with his luck.

  “Anyway, in a generation or two, these warriors might simply kill themselves off with their urge to fight, which neither of us will mourn if that happens. I think it was an ironic touch to name the planet Great Path, since they’re stuck on it for eternity. With our long lives, there’s no chance we, or the Prada, won’t remind future citizens of the danger. Although, we might discover a few Krall manage to get off this world via a careless visitor, and go marauding. But with the low gravity that the Olt’kitapi liked, the Krall living here won’t be able to hold onto the physical strength they have now. It’s a temperate paradise with plenty of food and no threats. That means they’re going to hate it here. A suitable torture for them.”

  Reynolds conceded, sort of. “Fine. Go hug the trees, diaper the Krall’s rears, and try to save the entire damned Universe. I don't care. Let’s just get to work. The youngsters have toted the last of their limp lizard asses off the ship. Grab your needle gun and let’s shoot ‘em and go home.”

  The younger Kobani had considered it a sport to hunt down the packs of novices on clan breeder worlds, using Death Lime extract on coated darts. Except, having to collect the paralyzed forms with shuttles, to place them
on ships and transport them to Great Path had turned the war games into a chore. This was the fifth trip for these two hundred teenagers. They spend two fun days running down the novices on various clan worlds to get enough to fill the ship, and then had to load the vessel with stacks of the nearly five thousand limp bodies they accumulated. It had to be done quickly, before dehydration could set in for the resilient and drugged captives, but with T-cubed Jumps, it took less than three days to build and relocate a full load of Krall meat, and return for more. The adventure quickly became more of a chore.

  The older men considered it character building, as were the poker games they invited some of the oldest teens of the complement to join. They had to be at least sixteen to play, and all of them were under eighteen. The kids had been paid in new Federation credits in advance, and never having any experience with the purchasing power of money, were willing to risk it in a game of chance, just to learn the rules of poker and to pass the time.

  The youngsters had repeatedly asked what they were supposed to do with money. When told it was like symbolic owning of property, or of possessing the ability to buy the things you wanted from people that owned the property, they asked why not offer to trade something you had, or to do something for them in trade.

  Thad said, “Performing a service to get the property you want is doing work. What if the thing you want requires more work than that person needs done? If you work for other people, and are paid with credits, you can save the credits until you have enough to pay for what you wanted.”

  One boy rebutted this idea. “By that time the owner of the property I want will probably have traded with someone else, and the credits I saved will be worthless, because what I wanted to buy is gone.”

  The debate ran on for a time, without a conclusive win for the two older men, who were ill equipped by experience for financial discussions in the first place. They lamely suggested that nightly poker games might offer a learning experience, and had spent time teaching economics to the youngsters by that means.

  Today, to earn their own keep, the two older men went down the ramp to the paralyzed ranks of naked Krall, arrayed within long multiple rows on the grass of a large clearing in the surrounding woods, perfectly aware of their helplessness, and staring hatefully at their captors. Reynolds took pleasure at seeing the widening of the eyes of those he was about to shoot, knowing they thought this was a coup de grace, rather than the antidote for the time released drug they had been shot with when captured.

  He enjoyed aiming right between their eyes as he gave them his best evil grin. It would have taken too long to do them all face to face like that, so as on previous trips, they finally resorted to a “hosing” spray of needles of entire rows, requiring multiple fast reloads.

  “That now makes twenty five thousand Krall for this forest region.” Sarge mentioned their total with a note of relief. They had completed their allotted share of five transport trips, of five thousand inert Krall bodies in each, stacked like cordwood, and now other Kobani ships would take their turn at a five-trip rotation. The goal was to place about a million Krall total on the four continents of Great Path.

  Thad nodded, and slipped in his planned casual comment. “Time to head home. The kids that lost most or all of their money in poker games will be thrilled when they discover Maggi will make the winners give it all back to the losers.”

  “Like hell! Not everyone,” Sarge protested. “I ain’t giving you your money back. You need the object lesson more than they do. How the hell does that teach them economics?”

  “Hey! It wasn’t my idea. Maggi knew we’d be playing cards, and that the two of us needed some of the kids to play to have enough players each night. She told me in advance exactly what her rule would be, so we wouldn’t rip off the kids as they learned a lesson in life.

  “She said we have to put all the chips back in the pool. How can you decide which credits were mine and which were the kids? I know you lost some to that snarky little Schmidt girl every game, just as I did. Maggi said the winning players have to put all the chips bought from the bank with their credits, back into a common pot, and divide it evenly with each of the participants for the pay out from the common bank.”

  “That’s crap. Maggi paid them two hundred credits in advance before we left. She didn’t pay me anything. Did she pay you? All the credits I used to by chips with were already mine.”

  Staying with his pure fabrication, Thad said, “I was paid twice as much as they were as Captain, but I’m giving up my own winnings in chips for that split, just like they are. Don’t be a skinflint, or Maggi will rip you a new arse for corrupting our youth and damaging the morals of Federation society. You know she takes our responsibility for shaping these kids to respect fairness very seriously. She won’t stand for us ripping naive kids off by gambling with them. We each have to put all of our chips into the chip pool to be divided evenly, and then we use our share of the chips to buy credits back from the bank. I asked the AI, Sarah, to keep track of everyone’s winnings. Its three hundred twenty four credits in chips for you to put in. Maybe you can win more on the Jump home tonight.”

  “That sucks. What good will winning do me if I just have to put more chips into the pool? You should have told me before we set up the games and I bought two hundred chips. That damn Schmidt kid has over forty of my personal credits, and now I have to split my overall chip stack with you and the other fish? Nineteen or twenty kids played poker with us. I may go from big winner to in the hole by splitting the two hundred chips I bought out of my own pocket twenty ways, plus those I won. Damn. I should have been paid something for this trip like everyone else.”

  Thad had to turn away to keep his grin hidden. He needed to Comtap Maggi, to set up his phony chip-dividing scheme before they got home. He might even have to put in some more of his own money to get Maggi to agree, just to stick it convincingly to his mercenary poker pal. It would give the kids a small windfall.

  Well worth it, he thought. Suppressing a Krall-like snort.

  ****

  “Hey Dad,” Carson and Ethan caught Dillon in a corridor of the government building renamed Federation Central, in the heart of the still growing capitol city of Xenos, on Haven.

  “What’s up boys?”

  “We wanted to know the status of the clanship I captured before we went to K1 for Operation Forestall. I gave it a name then, the Wanderer, and it just finished conversion to make T-cubed Jumps. Is that my ship, or is it now part of the Federation fleet?”

  “Son, it’s sort of in between. The same questions came up for other ships in the hearings today. I suspect that’s why you looked me up over here. President MacDougal, after discussions with advisors, such as me and your mom, with Golda Mauss, and of course Uncle Tet, who is still technically the Secretary of the Navy, has issued an Executive Order. It allows the Federation, namely by the President or the navy secretary, to recall any of the ships for official use in the event we needed to assemble the full or a least a larger fleet. With T-cubed travel and instant communications, most of our ships will be within hours to a day of travel time, to defend any point within our volume of space. At the same time, we must use those ships for trade, exploration, transportation, diplomatic missions to Rim Worlds, and lately for a number of personal use flights.

  “We now have just over four thousand six hundred ships, after more captures, and some repairs of damaged craft on K1. In the absence of a serious threat, Tet will keep only about five hundred ships in the Koban system, which will also serve as local in-system planetary transportation, and for resource development and hauling supplies. There are about a hundred being used with our non-human citizens, to explore and survey their former home worlds and colonies.”

  He mimicked pulling at his lower lip. “Gee. That only leaves four thousand ships for other uses, and over two thirds have already been converted for T-cubed. I’ll bet whatever you want it for it will fit one of the allowed categories. Which is it?”

  “Trade,
” blurted Ethan, as Carson said, “Rim World contacts.”

  “Carson, you have a good claim for use of the Wanderer because you made the capture and worked on its AI conversion. What do you want do with it? Ethan, trade is a valid use, but the Executive Order asks that you submit a written request with a use listed and some offer of proof that’s the case. In the event that there are limited craft available, the priority for use must be decided, by some clerk probably. That isn’t an issue yet, but you may as well list the proper use. I’d think trade is better than saying you just want to visit a Rim World, and I don't think either of you are diplomats, or will be running a tourist service. What are you really going to do there?”

  Carson answered. “Ethan means we intend to do some business, which is sort of trade related, but we aren’t selling or buying a commodity, so it probably isn’t actually trade. More a case of possibly providing a service.”

  “What sort of possible service? That sounds more like you want to use it for personal use or transportation, unless the ship is part of the service you intend to deliver.”

  “Dad, the people that contacted us on Chisholm were not terribly specific. They’re frightened to be asking for outside help, they’re in trouble and fear for their lives, and say some corrupt officials there are trying to throw them off their land, in favor of wealthy people that bought the officials off. Their communications are often being monitored.”

  “How the hell do you know anyone on Chisholm, which as I recall is a Rim World on the anti spinward side of Human Space from us. How did they contact you, or know where you are? Even the PU still doesn’t have a precise fix on our location.”