A Federation Forged in Fire
Author: Stephen W. Bennett
Date: 2015-07-30 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Science Fiction; Space Opera; Fiction; Military Science Fiction; Space; Military Fiction; Aliens
Description: When the enemy discovers their hidden home, Mirikami is forced to lead 117 Kobani ships in a desperate attack against 3,000 Krall ships and uncounted warriors. Armed with a 22,000-year-old computer virus, and sheer courage, they must disable every enemy ship and weapon. The last time this tactic was tried against them, the Krall eradicated the entire Olt’kitapi civilization. That’s just one foe the Kobani face. The PU president rejects diplomatic recognition of the new Galactic Federation, and diplomat Mirikami is ordered arrested for genetic crimes and for provoking Krall attacks on Hub world

Koban: A Federation Forged in Fire

By Stephen W Bennett

Koban: A Federation Forged in Fire

Text copyright © 2015 Stephen W Bennett

All Rights Reserved

Cover art designed by:

Athanasios: Author/Creator
http://www.mad-gods.com/CoverHIRE/

This is the fifth book in the Koban Series.

You can review all books currently available at:

https://www.facebook.com/Koban.the.series
and
http://www.kobanuniverse.net/
or my page at
http://www.amazon.com/Stephen-W-Bennett/e/B008ZPQ12I/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0

This eBook is licensed for your personal use and enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the many months of long and hard work of the author.

This book is written in “American” English, so there may be some differences in spelling and usage than in other countries use of the language.

This is a work of fiction and all characters are fictitious or are portrayed fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

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My thanks to Paul Benkert for taking the time to perform proofreading, spotting innumerable typos, odd phrasings, and story inconsistencies. Doing it before and after serious surgery made it even more appreciated, and I’m indebted to him for his willingness to stick with a hard task, despite such personal distractions. I wish you continued improved health my friend. There will surely be more errors than we both can find, even on a second pass by us both, so I’m certain I’ll be posting new editions when that prediction is proven right.

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Contents

- Chapter 1: Showdown at the OK1 Corral
- Chapter 2: Divide and Conquer
- Chapter 3: Catching a Virus
- Chapter 4: New Dublin
- Chapter 5: The Pursuit
- Chapter 6: Birth of a Federation
- Chapter 7: Diplomatically Speaking
- Chapter 8: Facing Challenges
- Chapter 9: Odds and Ends
- Chapter 10: Khartoum’s Destiny
- Chapter 11: Retribution and Judgement
- Chapter 12: A Malevolent Force
- Chapter 13: The Thandol
- Chapter 14: Meeting the Neighbors
- Chapter 15: Snug as a Bug in a Rug
- Chapter 16: A Federation at War

- DRAMATIS PERSONAE
- About the Author:
- The End

Chapter 1: Showdown at the OK1 Corral

“People, we have only seven days to save Koban and Haven from destruction.” Mirikami said this with absolute certainty.

“To do this, we have to find a way to destroy or disable all clanships on or around K1.” His iron willed determination was clearly sensed through the Comtap link.

“There will be a brief open discussion, with ideas offered in a quick orderly fashion. Each ship will submit proposals only through their captain, after vetting by those under his or her command. Ideas that make it past your captain will be considered by Task Force Command.”

The rippers were included in the discussion by frill contact with members of their personal family pride, or via human friends if they were not part of a family. Twenty-three “wild” rippers, predominately young males and unmated, had elected to participate in this hunt, and joined with the two hundred fifty nine mature rippers that came with their own human prides. They no more wanted the genocidal and wasteful Krall to return to their home than did humans. They now considered all Kobani as a distantly related extended pride. A pride which not only shared many of their values, but who smelled somewhat like rippers did, due to shared genes.

One of the ships, out of the hundred seventeen, carried only a small complement of Kobani, and it would stay out of direct combat. Now named the Vanguard, it was transporting representatives of the Raspani, Torki, and even Prada as observers and technical advisors, as well as human scientists and technicians. The aliens participated by mind enhancers and Olts, and the Prada simply touched hands with a Kobani.

The Prada intellectually recognized that the Krall had to be defeated. Nevertheless, as a species older than the Prada, it felt awkward for the former obedient slaves to participate in an action that had as its goal, the destruction of “Rulers” that they had obeyed for almost fifteen thousand years. This subservience had lasted nearly as long as they had been a star faring species before being conquered by the Krall.

The ideas started to arrive. One concerned modification of anti-ship missiles, others concerned methods of infiltrating down to tarmacs and domes, of disabling war material and clanships parked on tarmacs. What was required to do that was resetting their quantum-coded locks to deny their use by a Krall’s DNA key. That was done simply by passing a Denial chip close a lock, with the Krall DNA pattern recorded in the untrusted list.

This Olt’kitapi security feature depended on the quantum interaction of an intermediate range fifth force of nature. Had that ancient race devised a longer-range system of shutting down the military equipment they provided to their intended “police force,” the Krall would never have succeeded in their revolt. The problem for the peaceful ancient species was that they thought about long time scales, had no inherent military ability, and had not recognized the speed and ruthlessness with which the Krall would act.

The ECM pods the Kobani had used in the past had a limited range of roughly ten miles, and couldn’t block landlines, which the Krall were known to have laid between domes on K1 now. They were as small as an anti-ship missile, and launched like those, so other uses for them were suggested.

The spec ops trained recruits of the Kobani had the usual range of devices they could use, but not as many were with them as they’d like to have. There were some innovative ways proposed to use the limited number of spy bots they did have.

There was modification going on continuously of .50 caliber slugs, replacing the Krall Killer chips that triggered rounds to explode when close to a Krall, installing the circuits now being called Denial chips, taken from quantum coded door keypads and Krall made plasma rifles and power packs. There would be no use of belt fed machine guns in this attack. That was simply because they were too wasteful of the limited number of Denial chips they had.

It wasn’t possible for the Torki to manufacture additional copies of the complex chips fast enough, or in the quantities needed in the short time available. Fortunately, there were numerous existing chips on the captured clanships, which even unskilled people could recover from keypads.

Methods of chip replenishment was discussed after they landed on K1, and based on the data they had from the previous attack there, they knew where to find the fingernail sized chips in quantity. After discussion, the noncombat advisory role of the aliens suddenly grew to one that was directly supportive, with the greater risks that entailed if they went to K1.

The AIs on the Mark of Koban and on the Avenger provided detailed visual data, recorded from the last attack at K1. Via Comtap, Mirikami and Noreen shared the images of where the various clan domes were located, the equipment and supply stores that would likely still be in place next to them, and tarmacs where clanships were expected to be parked.

Around K1, the debris fields of destroyed clanships and the D-Ram fragments from the fleet battle would narrow down the available low-level orbits where Krall defenders should be on watch when the Kobani arrived. The AI’s calculated how widely the clutter fields should have spread, and where the more open orbital lanes should exist for the Krall to occupy. Those would be early target areas, but not the first targets attacked.

They assumed previous orbital and dome landing codes had been changed, and there was zero chance that a White Out anywhere close to orbit at K1 would be ignored. Although, there still was a way to approach the planet’s upper atmosphere without a White Out revealing reentry, or detection by the long wave radio frequency system the Krall now employed. The frequency, or rather wavelength, of the radiation the Krall used to detect an object the size of a clanship had been adjusted for optimum signal reflectivity. Optimum for detecting a clanship, that is.

Max Born and his technicians, bolstered by intimate Torki knowledge of clanship sensor systems, felt confident that small stealthed spacecraft could slip past the new detection thresholds set for something the size of a clanship. Specifically, it was set for clanships that were using the improved Kobani stealth system. The enlarged Krall single ship design, which the Torki and Prada had scaled up to a four person craft, was a fraction the length of the new radio wavelength being used as radar by the Krall. The small ships had the same absorbent stealth coating that defeated most standard detections systems that used high resolution, high frequency radar or lidar. It came down to this concept: If the wavelength used was much longer than the size of the target, the target should not be visible because of poor signal reflection, and a lack of resonant frequencies.

The earlier fighting at K1 had demonstrated that long-wave radar could detect a Kobani clanship even when using its Torki improved stealth system, but that did not provide enough information to fully identify it, target it effectively with weapons, or guide anti-ship missiles to kill it. The small radar cross-section, more rounded edges and much shorter length of four-ships, combined with their existing radiation absorption hulls, and the fractional wavelength their physical length presented to low frequency waves, meant in theory they should evade detection. A lot was about to be risked on that theory, with no opportunity or time to test it while enroute in Tachyon Space.

Days later, Mirikami started his final briefing with fresh news. “I had a Comtap chat with General Nabarone, and because so many clanships had previously been diverted to K1 to form the failed invasion fleet, the Krall forces on Poldark were running behind on their regular supply deliveries. There was an influx of nearly a hundred clanships there in the last two days, loaded with replacement weapons, ammunition, food, and other supplies. They have not yet departed for a return to K1, apparently because they’ll be used as support for new assaults.

“Since the same supply situation existed for New Dublin, it’s probable that another hundred clanships were sent on supply runs there as well, and that’s several days farther away. I sent Chief Haveram ahead in the Falcon to stop at Poldark, then to fly to New Dublin. He’s two days out from Poldark now, and he has sample Denial chips with him to infect others. Until he arrives at New Dublin, we don’t even have a Comtap user in that system, but I think it’s a safe assumption that the Krall there were also resupplied. That’s good news for us, because that means there are roughly two hundred fewer clanships at K1 that we don’t have to disable. We can worry about them later.”

Next, Mirikami summed up their initial approach and infiltration plan. “We’ll divide our arrivals up in a full sphere around K1 at about 1,000 AUs, so we don’t trigger a wave in Tachyon Space, which they might detect if we all came in as a single compact group. There will be no gamma ray bursts from you because nearly everyone will ghost in place and stay in Tachyon Space.” He paused to allow for questions. There weren’t any.

“By saying nearly everyone will be ghosting, I excluded the Mark and the Avenger, because with our AIs, we’ll perform White Outs behind different moons of the closest gas giant to K1. Our two ships are better equipped for rapid surveillance and computer analysis. The Krall may have clanships in high orbits around K1 that can see behind the planet’s mid-sized moon, named Cheetah by the original colonists of Greater West Africa. That low and fast orbiting moon surely will have a periodic blind spot from clanship observers at some point in its orbit. I can decide when it looks safe to Jump in close behind its White Out shadow. The Mark will go in first and send the rest of you pinpoint coordinates for that location. Take care to get the numbers right, which will be based around my position in concentric rings. Using instant Comtap communications, I can signal when another blind spot in any observation of Cheetah’s backside occurs. That’s when every one of you will come running to join me. Noreen, on the Avenger, is my backup, and she’ll join me just before the rest of you do.

“With the planetary mass scale of intersect protections disabled on our ships, we can exit much closer to the moon’s mass than the Krall are able to do. I’m aiming for a quarter mile above the highest crater peak, on the center of the moon’s backside. After Noreen and I get there, we’ll make certain every captain receives an accurate entry point, with a tight but safe spread of White Out coordinates.

“We obviously don’t want any ship-on-ship intersects, nor any with the moon. Not only would it ruin your day, our sneakiness up to that point would be wasted. If we get everyone in that close to the surface and undetected, we’ll be shielded by ground return clutter from long wave radar detection if a clanship gains a radar view of the backside of that rugged little moon. Once there, we will promptly deploy our four-ships, and hundreds of single ships, which can then separate and move rapidly from behind the moon and fly inward, to gently enter atmosphere and disburse to the domes we’ve assigned them. Max, Coldar, and Blue all agree, as do I, that the greatest risk on that approach is encountering orbital debris that could nick your hulls and spoil your stealth. Questions?” He paused again for any requests for clarification.

He received one question. “Sir, this is Arnold Drake, leader of a squad of five four-ships aboard the Eagle. I was busy helping to modify missile warheads over the last three days, and I’m not sure I know what the fallback plan is, if we’re seen before we reach atmosphere. ”

“A good point Arnold, discussed previously but worth repeating. If we’re seen arriving at Cheetah, or the small ships are detected flying inbound from there, you little ships will race at all possible speed to reach your assigned tarmacs, to try to disable as many clanships as possible before they can launch. The rest of the fleet will immediately Jump to the orbital coordinates that my AI Jakob, and Noreen’s AI Karl, will provide to each ship. We’ll be going after them in orbit anyway once the small craft are all down, using our lighter weight modified missiles and ECM. A clanship using long wave radar can’t target the small craft like yours Arnold, even if they knew you’re coming, so you’ll be safe as long as you have intact stealth. Avoid nicks on your hulls from orbital debris.”

After another pause without any new questions, Mirikami concluded, “Get some rest, hydration, and food in you some hours before we arrive. I’ll want everyone at assigned battle stations thirty minutes before we enter ghost mode surrounding K1. Take a pee break before then, or hold your bladder until you find a tree or bush on the planet. I don’t anticipate more than a thirty or forty minute wait at the gas giant moon before I Jump in behind Cheetah. The rest of you will join us within minutes or seconds after Avenger arrives beside me.

“We have a half day until arrival, so finish what work you can on missile and ammo conversion with any remaining Denial chips you have. We’ll talk again shortly. Mirikami out.”

****

The Mark of Koban was poised close beside the second largest, but unnamed moon of the Saturn scale gas giant in the K1 system. The Avenger was similarly adjacent to the largest moon of the same planet. They had used the two moons to shield their White Outs, and had been observing the remote inner system for almost twenty minutes.

“Tet, Karl has identified thirty-six clanships around K1, and one of them is holding station well above the northern pole, at about a hundred thousand miles. Another remote clanship is orbiting at about a hundred fifty thousand miles, in an orbit with a thirty-degree inclination from the equator. Only the northern clanship has a continuous view of Cheetah. The other one can see the back of the moon for eleven hours, when Cheetah overtakes it lower down in its faster orbit.”

“Jakob agrees on the two outer observers, Noreen, but he counted forty two close-in clanships. Another six went around the limb of the planet just after I moved from behind this airless moon. I think the methane atmosphere of your moon partly blocked your first passive scans. The fewer ships in orbit and their placement between the debris lanes suggest the Krall have kept the number of orbital watch standers down, as we’d hoped. They’re clustered more closely than on our previous visits, for debris avoidance as expected.”

“Karl has calculated a sizable area on the backside of Cheetah that’s always in shadow from that pole sitter, but the other clanship can see that spot about sixty percent of the time.”

“Right, Jacob reported the same. We have at least four hours of decent shadow time for each orbit of Cheetah. None of the low orbiting clanships would have a chance of picking up our gamma rays. Considering we’re forty-one light minutes out, we’ll have another hour of full shadow from the second wide orbiting observer. I’m Jumping inwards as soon as Jakob has finished a recheck of my lowest safe exit altitude. As soon as the AI refines that, and I descend closer to the surface after exit, I’ll send you the exact instantaneous coordinates for your exit next to me. If that result looks good to us, we tell the others to be ready to copy their own coordinates, and to Jump within a one-minute window of reception after they have the location and velocity adjustment we furnish. No longer delay than that or they need new coordinates calculated. That moon is moving too fast.”

“Right. Waiting for your signal.”

“Jakob has the helm. It will be any…, second.” The last word, still received instantaneously via Comtap, was uttered a second slower because Mirikami was suddenly forty-one light minutes farther away, and a jagged and heavily shadowed moonscape suddenly filled half of his view screens.

“Damn. That seemed closer than it actually was.” He said, checking his instruments. “Came out a half mile above a crater rim. I’m moving down to a quarter mile before I send you your coordinates. Any sign that I was noticed?”

“Tet, I won’t see a reaction for forty one minutes.”

“Oh crap! We can talk instantly but not see instantly. I’ll know before you will, but I can’t go peek around the edge right now. Doesn’t matter. If we’re seen, we charge in anyway. Here’s the coordinates Jakob just fed to my Comtap’s database. Come on…, down.” The last word came a second delayed, because the Avenger instantly appeared a thousand feet away from the Mark as he spoke. It loomed large in a side view screen.

“Hi!” she said brightly. Certain the skip in his words indicated surprise again.

“How did you enter the coordinates so fast?” After his warning to the other captains, he expected there to be at least a ten second delay as she entered and rechecked the numbers, to be sure she had them right.

“Why would I do that? I have Karl for dumb drudgework. He’s linked to us.”

“Right. You don’t mind hurting Karl’s feelings with that remark?” He asked jokingly.

Karl, in the link, answered the question for himself, as if it were serious. “My model AI series does not display anything but simulated feelings, Sir. An emotional simulation was not triggered by such an obviously true statement.”

“Then you’re an insensitive clod.”

“I’m hurt by that allegation, Sir.” Karl replied blandly, to prove it could pretend emotions.

“That you’re insensitive, or a clod?” he asked.

“Clod, Sir. I actually am insensitive, as I thought I explained. Having said that, I am not a lump of dirt or clay.”

“Then you are an insensitive lump of electronics.”

“Yes Sir. Thank you for accurate clarification.”

Back to business he said, “Jakob, you equally insensitive lump of electronics. Can you link through my Comtap and deliver the proper coordinates to the other hundred fifteen captains, after I tell them it’s safe to jump here?”

“Yes Sir.”

Mentally selecting the group link to the full complement of Comtaps, Olts and mind enhancers, he alerted everyone. “The Mark and Avenger are safely behind Cheetah, and we have about another forty minutes of complete gamma ray shadow time from the two outlying observers. The AI will transmit individual coordinates to each ship captain for your Jump to join us, and for matching the moon’s orbital velocity. Double-check the numbers before you Jump. Here are the up to the second accurate numbers. Jakob, send them.”

The response wasn’t instant as it had been for Noreen and the Avenger, but from the first to the last arrival, it was barely fifteen seconds. There was a storm of gamma rays from that tight cluster of White Outs.

Mirikami was thinking it was fortunate the Olt’kitapi had considered gamma radiation when they designed clanship hulls and stealth coatings. Any living thing unshielded would have been fatally irradiated. The dead moon below voiced no complaint.

He gave the word, "Deploy the small ships." The assault of K1 was under way.

Like deadly pollen from killer flowers, the spores shot out of launch bays located around the perimeters of the Kobani ships. They spread in all directions, staying low to the surface and its radar clutter, ready to sling shot around the circumference of the eight hundred mile wide moon towards K1.

The four-ships had four times the internal volume of a single ship, but because humans, even in armor, were much smaller than four Krall, they typically could hold six people. Today they held five, and a ripper. That made it rather tight quarters, with the big cats quivering and eager to start the hunt. They didn’t purr like Earth house cats, but a low breathy rumble served as an indication of anticipation. Except for the thrill of visiting Haven, none of the rippers had been off the home planet. They had shared the frill images from Kobani, of alien worlds and combat, certainly for long enough to crave the experiences for themselves.

Kobalt had pushed his way into the front of the four-ship, next to his “brother” Carson. Flying close to them, destined for the same dome complex, was Ethan with Kit by his side. Alyson was headed for the same domes in the same flight, and she had Kandy as her ripper escort. She and Carson’s infant son, christened Calvin, were back on Koban with friends who were prepared for an evacuation. If this attack proved unable to stop Telour from sending a Krall fleet there, the relatively small population would be forced to flee.

The rippers were finally getting to defend friends, family, and home from wanton Krall savagery. Jorl breaker had Kopper with him, Danner was with Kally, and Bradly flew a four-ship with Kayla. This would be the first time rippers had faced the Krall other than on the open savannas of Koban around Prime City, and at Hub City, on those two hunting grounds of many others. Except for frill memories passed down from wild prides, they only had Kobani contact with the Krall to guide them as to what to expect in combat. The Krall had been gone from Koban longer than the age of any living ripper.

Just over three thousand small ships streaked around the craggy rim of the moon and turned in towards K1. They were spreading towards their designated surface targets, some of which were on the opposite side of the planet. There was no sign from the ships in orbit or the polar station keeper that they had been detected. The main Kobani ships closed the launch ports, and prepared for Jumps to intercept the various clanships in low orbits, with the Avenger and the Mark assigned to take out the two farther out watchers first. All they waited on to initiate the orbital attacks was the small ships reaching their targets, or an indication they had been detected by the watchers.

The ships on the near side of K1 initiated their deceleration before entering atmosphere, while the other half of the little armada swung around the limb of the planet, flying below the debris fields but staying above atmosphere. Thanks to Comtap, Mirikami would know when those with the longest distance to fly had reached the vicinity of their target domes. It took another tense twelve minutes before they also had slowed and entered atmosphere.

“Noreen, switch ECM on, and we Jump together.” They had already entered the coordinates for their two targets. Mirikami would take the nearly stationary polar sentry clanship, and Noreen the wide orbiting sentry. The AI’s coordinated their dual Jumps precisely.

The two ships winked out from behind the moon, and instantly did White Outs less than a mile directly behind the two watchers. Each fired a single anti-ship missile, using no radar pre-guidance data. A precise hit on a vital component wasn’t required, merely a near miss.

The relatively small missiles, fast even in their normal configuration, had less than half their usual mass because there was no warhead, and they carried less than a third of the standard high energy, dense and heavy fuel. Greater speed, maneuverability, and short range were their advantages now. They simply needed to reach the target as quickly as possible.

Both missiles actually managed to hit the hulls of their targets, but from so short a distance, they didn’t achieve the hypervelocity they were capable of, so they didn’t have the momentum to penetrate the hulls. They glanced off the sides and continued accelerating away.

ECM was used to suppress any communications from the two ships, but there was no attempt initially to transmit from either of them. Mirikami sent the Comtap signal to the hundred fourteen Kobani ships that were waiting to go after the Forty-two low orbiting clanships.

“Go! These two are disabled and silenced.”

One of the lower orbiting clanships was. It made a call to the pole watch clanship, the only one of the two it could see from its equatorial location. “Phordot, there was a gamma ray burst near you.”

The ECM was relatively short range by design, the effect weakening over about ten miles, and its effect was originally intended to deactivate Krall communications systems in domes, not to block them with signal jamming, which would reveal the presence of the intruders. The Krall radios simply switched themselves off. A clanship within the ECM envelope wouldn’t hear an incoming call, or be able to make a call out of its own.

Abruptly, one hundred fourteen White Outs appeared around K1, appearing behind the forty-two low orbit watch standers, their positions and clustering having been accurately relayed from the passing small ships by Comtap as they descended to the surface. The flash of detected White Outs was the signal for the small ships to go into action on the surface.

None of the forty-two Krall clanships managed to respond with missile launches or laser cannon fire. The two anti-ship missiles assigned per ship was possibly overkill, but the Denial chips removed control of every system from the crews inside, except for radio use. It was theorized that the Olt’kitapi had left communications and life support active, free of the chips that could block their use, probably as a gesture of mercy, to permit a call for an evacuation by an otherwise disabled clanship, where the crew inside couldn’t even open an airlock to make an exit.

The other three ECM systems the Kobani had available to them were on ships that emerged within a cluster of five or six clanships, shutting all of their radios down. If the radios were repowered manually, the ECM continuously sent the shutdown command. At least those ships in close formation would be unable to warn of the boarding process happening on each of their neighbors. Kobani were leaping across the gaps as their host ships moved in close to the now drifting enemy craft. They used magnetic footpads to swarm over the hull to enter by the four airlocks at the lowest hold level, by two shuttle bay airlocks, and by four small maintenance airlocks near midship.

Simply removing the clanships from active Krall control and moving off wasn’t enough to preserve them indefinitely. A resourceful enemy crew, even without plasma rifles to make it easy, would find a way to rupture the reaction mass fuel tanks for the thruster engines, and the binary fuel would detonate on contact, preventing the capture of that intact clanship. The Kobani wanted these craft in operating condition, and Mind Taps ensured that every one of the boarders knew how to operate their newly acquired transportation and its internal systems.

It was expected that the Krall would have minimal crews aboard the watch standers, enough to handle reloads in the thirty-two anti-ship missile bays, and perhaps one to three posted on the command deck. A commander of a hand or more of clanships would probably be on one craft, with a pilot, and perhaps a K’Tal or weapons master. Typically, about thirty-four to thirty-six warriors was expected. Therefore, ten Kobani boarders, facing more than three times their number of Krall, seemed like an unfair advantage. For the Kobani.

After the denial list propagated at near light speed between every quantum lockout on the clanships, the Krall would have only the use of standard pistols and personal weapons, mostly knives, and unpowered armor (if they tried to put that on) which would furnish only basic life support. Some of the fighting would be at talon and tooth level against Kobani suit weapons, but it wasn’t as if a Krall warrior expected or would accept any mercy. They never granted that to opponents, considering surrender a sign of a weak bloodline. Many strong bloodlines were about to end today. There wasn’t time for so-called fair play, by facing warriors in hand-to-hand combat, unless that was forced.

Each Kobani ship aloft, including the newest captures, had to be prepared to take on any clanship that managed to lift from the surface. The ships that had paired to intercept the forty-two orbiting defenders joined the rest of the Koban fleet in trying to maintain a blockade, until the additional newly captured ships were able to help. That made for only a hundred fourteen blocking ships against possibly thousands of potential lift offs. The ten boarders per enemy clanship would find themselves on their own, as the other Kobani ships spread out to enforce the blockade.

Obviously, the White Outs above K1 would be noted on the surface, but the Krall and clanships on the ground quickly discovered they were having problems of their own to solve. There had been just over five hundred domes, large and small on K1, from the clusters belonging to Great and Major clans, down to a hundred or so smaller isolated domes built for minor or finger clans. That was a significant habitat reduction from the nearly seven hundred domes there prior to the previous human attack, but rebuilding domes took a backseat to repairing clanships. Large domes with wide tarmacs and a hundred or more clanships received the most attention from the small ship infiltration force.

Two four-ships and one or two single ships landed right on top of all of the large domes. Stealthed, one would settle on the crown of each dome, as several others were positioned closer to the roof edges, where their shooters had unobstructed views of parked clanships. The mere act of landing on the domes disabled remotely controlled laser batteries and hand held plasma weapons near the highest level, as well as blocking coordinated fire control systems in the command centers in the center of the top levels. The short range of the Denial chips didn’t often spread fully down to the base of the domes, past roughly eight of the fifteen-foot high levels.

Quantum locked compartments were spaced too far apart, so unless there were personal plasma weapons and armor, randomly distributed, to relay the electronic virus lower, the spread was halted. Below where virus transmission was interrupted, body armor and plasma rifles functioned just fine.

Stealthed Kobani in armor leaped out of their small ships, equipped with rifles, mostly of the .50 caliber variety but some older .30 calibers, which all could fire ammunition with the KK chips replaced with the fingernail sized Denial chips. They rapidly fired shots out towards the parked clanships closest to the domes. Not to hit the ships, but to find a trajectory, or a lane, through the randomly parked craft where a single slug could pass near as many clanships as possible. The denial list transmitted by the fifth force had a short effective range, but its spread through an entire clanship happened nearly at the speed of light.

The Olt’kitapi had designed these tools of war for their “police force,” with this key disabling transmission in mind. They simply were unable to fight their way close enough, and often enough to do that, and the Krall ruthlessly destroyed occupied infected clanships and weapons, as soon as they figured out what was happening. That had happened over the course of weeks of the revolt. The Kobani were not so tentative, or slow to act.

A single shot could disable five or six ships if the right angle could be found through the maze, and with tarmacs about a mile wide, no clanship was out of range.

At the outer perimeter of the largest and most crowded tarmacs, the bulk of the small ships were disgorging Kobani and rippers, many of which didn’t have long-range weapons with Denial chip ammunition. There had been a limited number of those rifles, and they went to the dome top landers, where they could block clanship access to warriors already pouring from the domes to reach the closest parked clanships. The spatter of White Outs had triggered alarms at domes and in parked clanships all over the planet. None of them knew that there were infiltrators literally on top of them.

An awkward aspect of the Denial chips was that they froze a clanship in whatever mode of operation it was in when the lockout was activated, preventing a Krall from changing settings of anything with a lockout, or from shutting that something down.

A number of clanships already had crews aboard, prepared to relieve clan mates in orbit soon, or were prepared for some unrelated mission, such as a resupply run to Poldark or New Dublin. Around the planet, at least nine clanships at major domes managed to initiate a launch sequence. Eight were using the typical Krall pollution filled fiery plasma exhaust blast off, which they seemed to thrill in doing manually. Fast snap shots from dome-top shooters prevented fully successful launches, but they did lift.

Set to employ manual steering control by the pilots, the uncorrectable trajectories made for rather high and spectacular blue-white plasma arcs that ended with lovely, and tragically fatal, orange and black fireballs hundreds of miles away.

Except one clanship lifting from a crowded tarmac, which ended a bit differently. It not only had a tachyon in its primary trap for use by the reactionless Normal Space drive, but it also apparently had a single warrior on the command deck. That was the surmise for what happened anyway. A pilot alone, anticipating the need to operate a weapons console when he met the enemy above, activated the autopilot for liftoff at maximum Normal Space thrust in atmosphere, surely intending to operate a weapons console and to change course to attack the enemy that had just arrived in orbit.

A passing slug, fired just as the clanship lifted above the rim of the nearby dome, left it locked with a high Norman Space drive thrust and on autopilot, when the ability to change settings was suddenly denied. The last they heard from that pilot was a Doppler shifted radio call a half day later as the clanship, at an appreciable fraction of the velocity of light, was passing the edge of the local Kuiper belt, still accelerating. It already had the velocity to escape the Milky Way. A Krall had finally gone exploring.

At smaller domes, which received only a few single ships or a four-ship, there were a few launches of clanships by warriors of finger clans, and which actually achieved orbit. Not understanding what was happening they attacked the enemy, and fell victims to Denial chips in anti-ship missiles, which had greater speed and maneuverability than should have been possible.

Mirikami and Noreen left behind boarders of their own to take control of the two ships they had disabled. They had work yet to do observing the planet. “The ships that sent boarders will stay in orbit to watch for and intercept possible inbound traffic from outside the system. As soon as any captured Krall has been Mind Tapped, we should be able to learn which domes hold the clan leaders. Now the hard task will be to power down the domes, locate isolated operational clanships, and find out where Telour is located. I want him in particular.”

This had been proceeding far better than he’d expected. The Krall had no planned rejoinder for clanships and major weapons being shut down like this. It had been twenty-two thousand years since the Olt’kitapi had tried and failed in this same tactic. Clearly, the failure of that ancient race had been in a lack of aggression by the near-pacifists, unable or afraid to get in close to their enemy, and a reliance on the natural spread of the “virus” by simple proximity between clanships and weapons once “infected.” The Kobani were hardly timid, cautious, or patient, once they had a technology that if applied fast and up close, essentially neutralized the enemy assets, and made them theirs.

The clanship boarding taking place in orbit was ironic to Mirikami. They were making the craft defenseless and unable to flee, which was a complete reversal of fortune for the Krall. They had used similar tactics for thousands of years, when they first encountered a new species they wanted to conquer. Initially, they disabled the Jump capability of a new race’s ships, and sent in young novices to kill the occupants if they resisted. They then extracted information about the enemy from the captives.

He was certain every warrior would resist violently, and the Kobani would only capture injured sub leaders for Mind Taps. Payback in kind.

****

Phordot had been bored with sentry duty for days. She wanted to be at New Dublin. Either fighting the newly aggressive PU navy cruisers, infiltrating the planetary defenses to deliver more supplies, or for her greatest desire, to be there to participate in a ground offensive being planned against the human forces. Because of the distraction of recent events at Telda Ka, that invasion force had gone without the supply support they needed, to force the enemy to retreat fast enough that the clans there could overrun a nearby large nesting area before it could be fully evacuated. There would be many kills per warrior when that happened, and good fighting before that to beat back a desperate enemy.

With the supplies she’d recently helped deliver, that fresh surge was sure to happen soon. Another hand of a hand of clanships had departed for New Dublin just as she had returned here. Expecting to load more supplies and return promptly, she was disappointed when told her status points were less than the level set by her clan leader for warriors to engage in the upcoming ground fighting. As a member of Mordo clan, and Gatlek Pendor of her clan being in charge of that invasion, she’d assumed even a lower level Mordo warrior would be allowed to participate.

That’s when she made a miscalculation, and complained. “I have served the Gatlek and the clan better than those that have remained on Telda Ka, who merely point to what I should carry to the battle, and then I have to fight my way down to the planet.”

The sub leader she was addressing was one of those who “merely points,” and he was not going to New Dublin either. He could have sent her back with a load of mini-tanks, where she might have talked her way into a combat situation as the clanship was being unloaded. Instead, he found a duty for her that he said suited her present skills and status.

“The sentry clanship posted above the northern pole will be departing to join Gatlek Pendor’s forces soon. You will go to relieve him. He has a surplus of status points, so perhaps he will pay you if you allow him to depart early.

“The duty will give you the opportunity to display piloting and space combat skills. Something that those of us who merely point seldom can practice. If the human navy returns for an attack, you can show them what you learned.” He snorted his amusement.

It was known throughout the clans (because Telour bragged publicly), that the human leader called Medford had bowed to the Tor Gatrol’s demands to stay away from Telda Ka, on pain of additional worlds to be destroyed. Telour used this bluff well, and the PU leader was afraid to test him. She had even promised to lead them to the base of the humans who had stolen the clanships used against the Krall, at least when she learned where it was.

Now, after sitting well above the pole for two hands of days, her crew was resentful of her rash words that left them stuck here with her. Phordot was able to observe all of the supplies leaving to support the two invasion forces, secure in the knowledge she would be kept far from the fighting. Her luck, and that of her crew, was about to change.

Their first hint of their unexpected entry to the field of combat was the White Out alarm each watch standing clanship had set. White Outs were common, random, and daily occurrences, often in multiples at once of clanships returning from Poldark or New Dublin, and arrivals from clan worlds with new war material, which daily arrived on newly completed clanships that had picked up the material enroute to Telda Ka. Even so, none of those White Outs ever appeared directly and closely behind a watch standing clanship.

The ultrasonic chirp of the White Out alarm signified very close proximity, whereas a deeper note would have reflected a more distant arrival. At a glance, Phordot could see that the visual display showed the location was directly behind them, where her instant-on laser cannons couldn’t fire, and that the mass was identical to that of a clanship. This had the hallmark of a human attack pattern, only there was no indication of energy beam fire, or a radar guided missile launch, which because of proximity was too short a distance for arming the warhead anyway.

Her plasma cannons would require minutes of pre-heating, and a missile launch needed a radar track for faster targeting. She leaped to the flight control console for the fastest solution, to rotate the ship to bring the lasers to bear. Her weapons master, seeing what she saw, had instantly uncovered the laser ports and initiated the plasma chamber heating, but in a practical sense, he had nothing to do until he could target the clanship behind them. He made a radio call to alert all the ships in orbit and at the domes below that an enemy ship had appeared. He quickly saw that the active light on the communications console was off.

As he tried, unsuccessfully, to activate the radio, he observed there had been a simultaneous second White Out alert near the wide orbiting sentry clanship, located a quarter of the way around the planet from them. He heard a faint clang sound through the hull, just as he heard a snort of disgust from Phordot.

He asked himself, why aren’t we accelerating or rotating? His pilot might be impulsive and had insulted their appointed sub leader, but she was an excellent pilot and had reacted even faster than had he to the alert.

“The Normal Space flight controls will not respond, nor the reaction thrusters.” She snarled.

The weapons master realized he was unable to activate the radio, and that the pilot’s talon tapping on the flight console was producing no change in the clanship attitude. He told her, “I cannot make a radio call, and the temperature monitors for the four plasma chambers are still offline. We must have had a power failure in a fusion reactor,” was his erroneous conclusion.

“The consoles light up and internal power gauges show them all as available,” she snapped in contradiction of his statement. When she selected the internal com system on the hardwired ship-wide speakers, her snarled instructions to the crew was heard, loud and angry.

“We are under attack and have lost propulsion, radio, and plasma cannons.” In the background, she and the crew heard the words of the weapons master, who had tried a test firing of his laser cannons, saying they were also without those beam weapons.

The fact that they had not been destroyed when they lost weapons and flight controls, and there had been a loud clang heard, she assumed the enemy was burning their way inside, as did warriors boarding a human ship. “Get plasma rifles and put on your armor. Prepare for a boarding attempt.”

That seemed suicidally stupid for humans to attempt, so it might prove to be some other clan attacking, as improbable as that seemed. The appropriate response either way was the same. Arm and armor yourself for combat, and prepare to repel boarders.

Her weapons master had retrieved his plasma rifle from a storage slot under the console, and tapped the recessed activation button on the weapon’s power pack with a talon tip, a move so practiced it was instinctive. He whirled to retrieve his armor from a storage locker at the side of the command deck when he paused to reach down to tap the power pack again, as he crossed the deck. The pilot was examining her own retrieved rifle as well. The high pitch faint ultrasonic whine of the power pack activating, creating plasma bolts for instant use wasn’t heard. The power indication lights had not lit, as if the pack was totally discharged. That was something no Krall warrior would allow before combat even started. They knew they had fully charged packs when the weapons were placed on standby earlier.

Both rushed to the storage lockers for their armor and spare power packs, even as calls from crew below reported their plasma rifles wouldn’t activate, and closed doors would not open to simple standard key presses. A quick check revealed that the life support functioned in the suits, but the combat display system would not activate. The visor displays, stealth, or powered assist was offline, and their spare power packs did not activate their rifles.

They extracted their old weapons harnesses with the ancient design but reliable caseless ammo pistols, and various favorite short swords from past death challenges, or skinning knives used in well-remembered interrogations of prisoners. The latter harkened to the pleasures of the early days of the war, when humans initially, and foolishly, surrendered to warriors. The old ways would have to suffice today.

Suddenly, there were telltale indicators back at the command console of all ten of the airlocks cycling. The clang they heard had not been from an attached single ship about to burn an entrance. The fools were announcing where they were entering.

Phordot shouted into the microphone as she passed the command console. “The enemy is cycling through each of the airlocks. Go kill them.”

The division of forces didn’t need to be spelled out for the Krall by their pilot. They divided efficiently to send multiple warriors to the nearest entry points, with Phordot and her weapons master splitting to intercept the invaders at the two highest maintenance airlocks, knowing they each would be joined by at least two warriors coming from the upper missile bays. How nice the enemy selected nonrandom entry points, so the Krall didn’t have to hunt for them to kill them.

Having less distance to travel, two missile bay warriors beat Phordot to the maintenance bay she had selected, where an enemy had just cycled through, according to the light panel in the corridor. Aware of the new stealthy human armor, both early arriving warriors entered the compartment with pistols blazing, each warrior firing incendiary rounds with their right hand, and the other pistol loaded with armor piercing slugs blazing away. The advantage of the incendiary rounds was the smoke they produced as they traveled, and within a modestly sized fireproof compartment, with only one hatch into the outer corridor, that smoke would reveal their target.

An invisible human would make a noticeable hole in the smoke even if it held still, and would stir the air as it moved. There was risk of course to the two warriors, from their own slugs as they ricocheted off the bulkheads, but with their rugged bodies, they could accept the physical damage in exchange for quickly knowing where the human was located. They kept their left arms and hands close in front of their faces as they fired, not for aiming, but as partial defense from beam weapons, which they knew the human suits employed.

The compartment quickly became smoky, and both warriors received minor wounds as they fired randomly at any pocket within the smoke trails they noticed, with each slug rebounding one or twice as the warriors instinctively dove to each side through the hatch when they snatched it open.

There was no sign of an enemy, and yet the airlock had cycled. They both stood up from crouches, weapons at the ready as their heads and eyes looked around rapidly in the typical Krall scan mode, seeking the target they expected. Suddenly, they both dropped to the floor, dead before they hit, from two bone-crunching blows that created deeply depressed skull fractures just over their eyes. A hole in the pale smoke dropped to the floor, from where it had held itself by fingertips using small fixtures near the ceiling, legs pulled up tight.

The hole in the mist turned to exit the compartment with the smoke streaming into the outer corridor, when suddenly it was confronted by a Krall in a blue uniform, rushing to enter the compartment. A swift right hand flashed out to snatch the pistol from the warrior’s left hand, while the vaporous looking left foot kicked up and shattered several fingers and the other gun, which was being held low in the Krall’s right hand. A forward snap of the poltergeist’s helmeted head required a bit of a leap and push-off by the foot still on the deck, but the solid impact broke teeth and stunned the new arrival. The small ghostly apparition pulled a needle gun from a small holster at its waist, and fired a single paralyzing dart into the throat of the warrior as it dropped.

“I got the pilot or flight commander for Mind Tap.” Carol Slobovic said via Comtap to the other nine boarders. “At least it has a blue uniform. How about you Sergey my lad?”

She looked down at the two dead warriors at her feet, their fate having been sealed by wearing black uniforms. That color had been their fatal flaw for a live capture, and being Krall, of course.

Sergey Medlov cursed. “OK. You win, damn it. I caught two black suits and a K’Tal in brown.” By taking the highest located airlocks nearer the command deck, they both expected the flight crew would head towards those airlocks as the nearest points to intercept the boarders. Carol had won their bet. Sergey would have to cook and serve her a dinner back on Koban. If he wasn’t too grumpy about it, she might provide the handsome young spec ops a nice desert.

She removed a gauntlet, and even before the neurotoxin had acted, started her interrogation in low Krall. “Is the Tor Gatrol on Telda Ka?” She nodded at the thoughts that she sensed, as Phordot snarled and spit a broken tooth, her wrists being crossed and pinned over her chest by this tiny human straddling her waist, with crushing knee pressure on her ribs.

“Which dome?” Another nod from the small human captor. She selected another Comtap address for a link.

“Captain Mirikami, Telour isn’t in any of the Graca clan domes. Sending additional small ships there may have caught more of the new leadership, but not Telour. Apparently, the destruction of the previous Joint Council dome keeps him moving around randomly. He was visiting domes belonging to minor clans; probably pretending it was for political reasons rather than for keeping his butt safe from another surprise attack. My prisoner doesn’t know which one, but any call to him would be relayed through the main Graca dome, which has been acting as a temporary council dome. That’s where you might learn where he’s located, from some of his flunkies.”

“Thanks Carol.” Mirikami answered. “We have that dome well covered. Are your boarding team members all OK?”

“Yes Sir. I mean, I’ve not heard a report of any problems or complaints from our team. Other than Sergey losing a bet with me. Do you know what the most difficult Russian dishes are to prepare? I want something really elaborate and time consuming for him to make for me.”

“You’ll have to ask Maggi or someone else. I don't know ethnic Russian foods. Let me know if your prisoner has any more useful information. Join us on the ground as soon as you have the ship secured. Land close to any ships or military equipment that still seem operational to you. Spread the Denial list. Mirikami out.”

****

Ethan flew his four-ship close to the west edge of the tarmac around the largest Graka clan dome. It was the dome apparently used as a temporary Joint Council dome after many of the clan leaders were killed in the old one by the migration ship-turned-into-comet. This dome was where Mirikami had hoped they would find Telour. None of the full size Kobani ships would try to land near any dome until their aerial defenses had been eliminated. Every sizable dome had a number of parked clanships that immediately switched to long wave radar mode, to seek out incoming clanships that didn’t have the proper new landing codes, ready to fire on them. Fortunately, the small ships were as invisible to those ground radar systems as they had been when inbound.

Any clanship that went active and launched missiles would be targeted by high altitude Kobani ships, using missiles carrying Denial chips instead of warheads. That was only done if there were no ground forces close enough to do that with chips in their rifle ammunition. It was cool that a mere sniper rifle could make the capture of an armored and heavily armed clanship possible. Nevertheless, it took time to put troops in proximity of thousands of scattered ships.

Ethan settled his little ship quietly next to a row of parked Dragons still awaiting shipment to one of the invaded planets. His keen eye had estimated the separation between the small tanks, and he knew the short range for propagating the Denial list had just been passed through each of the Dragons along the line in each direction. There were two nearby clanships with ramps down for loading. They were close enough to the tanks that were ready to be driven aboard that they too would be in “full denial” mode for the Krall.

He hit the rear hatch release to slide that open as he rose from his pilot seat. Kit nearly bowled him over in her rush to be the first to exit. Sitting in front as she had been, crowding Ethan, she used her speed and massive bulk to push the other two Kobani in the rear seats aside. She was damn well going to be the first one out!

“Hey, Kit,” Jorl complained as she knocked him back into his seat. “Wait your turn.” He found he was speaking to a teal colored rump that swiftly and lithely passed through the open hatch. Fred was looking at him with amusement.

“When Ethan brought her along, did you think for a moment she’d wait for us? She has her own agenda.”

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 communications 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.

“That’s right, meat bag, I sent my thoughts to you in high Krall, and I hear your thoughts. I just listened to you figure that one out. You’re a bit slow for a high status sub leader. Did Telour pick you for his staff because you always agree with him and lick his cloaca?” He uttered a very Krall-like snort of amusement.

“I have fought and killed many… enemy, to earn my status.” The pause was a giveaway.

“Killed lots of humans you almost said, most of them unarmed and helpless civilians I suspect. That’s all over for you. Your status points are about to be reset to zero. Tell me where Telour is right now.”

He said nothing, as he considered what might happen when he withheld the information demanded. He’d die before making any sound, despite torture. Although he feared the rippers

“Ah,” Carson said in satisfaction as he picked the rapid stray thoughts from the unguarded mind. “He’s at the Stodark clan dome. A former Graka finger clan, where his exalted ass is probably safe from a surprise attack by us. Thank you for that information. Exactly where is that dome, how many warriors are there, and in particular how many clanships are there? I’d gladly let the rippers chew on you for their pleasure.”

The eye blink the aide made was apparently as eloquent as an admission that the human had guessed right, the aide knew the Tor’s location. He had made no sound, so he assumed the human already knew the answer and sought only confirmation.

“No, I didn’t already know that, Hothkar.” he came right back. “Your mind just told me, and gave me your name as well. You betrayed your Tor Gatrol to us humans, and we’ll now go get him. Thanks for your help. You should have willed yourself to die. Too late for that now.”

The air hiss and a minor sting on his neck told him something small had struck him there. In shame, because he’d inadvertently confirmed where Telour was located, he was willing his hearts to stop, and the beating had started to slow.

“That isn’t going to work, Hothkar. The drug I injected will work in a minute or so to paralyze you, and we know it takes several minutes for a Krall to die by stopping vital organs. You made your bodies too tough to die quickly. If you want to die fast, try pissing off a Kobani, like me, or blowing your brains out.”

Carson rose and established a Comtap link to Mirikami. “Captain, Telour was at a small finger clan’s dome when we arrived. Here’s the location.” He sent the coordinates of where he believed the dome was located, based on the information from Telour’s aide.

“Southernmost continent?” Mirikami was surprised. There are only three minor clan domes there and it’s the coldest landmass, almost at the pole. We didn’t focus much attention on those domes, either this time or by the navy on previous attacks on K1. Obviously, we should have paid more attention this time. Damn. I think Telour probably escaped us about five minutes ago.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Nine of twelve clanships lifted from that small continent, cleared atmosphere and successfully Jumped before our two ships posted near there could take out more than three of them. All of them came off shooting, but three came directly at our ships in a suicidal rush, firing all beams and missiles as they came, clearly a sacrificial diversion. Our ships had to destroy two of them with plasma beams and armed anti-ship missiles, but managed to disable the third one with a Denial chip missile. The Torch was badly damaged in the exchange and we lost two of her crew. I’ll send boarders immediately to Mind Tap the surviving Krall crew as soon as they can capture them. It will be bad news I fear, but thanks for being so fast.”

“Sorry Sir. I was hoping we’d have him trapped in this dome. According to his aide, which Kally and Kobalt caught alive here, Telour’s been spending time visiting lesser clans. He was visiting a dome of a Mordo finger clan, called the Tandal. I think he’s gotten cagey and is avoiding places we’d expect him to be if there was another surprise attack. He has to know the Planetary Union couldn’t keep it a secret that they were willing to give us up to him. The Kobani have shown the Krall we won’t sit on our asses wondering what to do next, like the PU often does.”

“Not all of the PU turned on us or is indecisive, Carson. That is mainly President Medford and her political party, the Leaders of the Old Republic. The LOR holds a majority in parliament and the presidency right now. With the deaths of billions of people in two systems, they either need to find an acceptable scapegoat for the public, or lose their mandate in the upcoming elections.”

“Uncle Tet, I think Telour was taking precautions without seeming to do so to his own warriors, in case we came after his head again. Where do you think he went? To gather ships from Poldark or New Dublin?”

“I don't think so. He had time to hear what we were doing to clanships already here. We couldn’t keep more than a fraction of their communications suppressed after our White Outs in orbit and our surface attacks began. He surely knows about our deactivating their weapons and ships. Perhaps not how we did it, but he certainly knows who did it, since only Kobani can fly their clanships.

“He’ll know now that the technology we displayed today has to be fought at a safe distance. I know of only one weapon he thinks they have that can do that.”

“Sir, you said Huwayla also declared the Krall’tapi distrusted. If she told the other Dismantlers, they won’t respond to them.”

“I’m confident she talked to the other ships. She had the ability to communicate with our Comtaps using the tachyon modulation mode, rather than the electromagnetic mode for local communications. She did that when she was forbidden by the Krall’tapi operator from monitoring or using any of the electromagnetic spectrum. We first spoke via direct contact, by touching her. After that, she used our Comtaps via tachyon entanglement. That has infinite range and is instant. The Olt’kitapi obviously had that same technology. She would have told her sister ships.” He said that with confidence.

“Therefore, Telour isn’t able to bring them back here to destroy other worlds, but he doesn’t know that yet. His escape is disappointing, but not one leading to planetary catastrophe. With the Denial chips, we know we can take out his clanships too easily for them to risk closing with us. We’ve eliminated their ship numbers advantage, because their style of fighting is to get in close and kill their enemy in as personal a manner as possible. They can’t win a space battle if they, or we, Jump right into each other’s formations. Our lighter weight anti-ship missiles have proven too fast and maneuverable to be easily destroyed or evaded when fired so close to their backsides.

“I stayed in orbit to watch their response. They didn’t recognize the real threat for long critical minutes, because none of their orbiting clanships became balls of fire after we attacked them. I’m sure they wondered why none of ours exploded when we moved in close for boarding, because their missiles should have struck us. I think our relatively smaller numbers, compared to the thousands of clanships they have here, caused their sub leaders on the ground to attempt to send fewer clanships aloft after us, unaware we were already among them on the surface. Otherwise, more of them might have gotten off the ground before being disabled.”

“Does that mean when we have their fleet here fully grounded, we’ll take on the warriors in the domes, Sir?” He sounded a bit too eager to Mirikami.

“No Carson, it does not. They have at least ten or fifteen million warriors down there. We would lose too many people, no matter how fast and strong we are individually. I was serious when I said a Krall body count isn’t what we’re after. That isn’t mercy on my part; it’s practical. If we leave them stranded on K1, with their strongest offensive weapons neutralized, then we can inform the PU army, and they can invade here and expect to win this time. This was a human New Colony once. The PU should be granted the right to reclaim it. You take care of yourself, and link to your mom and dad. They’re trying to pretend they don’t worry about you, Katelyn, Cory, and Kobalt.”

Carson felt guilty he hadn’t called his parents when it was so easy. He rushed to tell his uncle now. “Kobalt was shot between the right front shoulder and chest. He’s not bleeding too badly, but it went deep and I think hit bone. I had Danner call for medical help while I reported.”

“Damn! OK. I’ll send some medical help down to you. Ethan thinks we have all the clanships at that particular dome complex disabled. I’ll send our technical and medical staff on the Vanguard down from Cheetah. They’ll land well away from the dome for their safety, but if you call for a shuttle to carry Kobalt over to them, they’ll give him the best of care. We have several med labs configured for rippers. He and Kit are really too old to be fighting at this intensity anyway. They’re slowing down.”

Carson automatically defended his lifelong friend and protector. “He did good Uncle Tet. He distracted Telour’s aide with a roaring charge while Kayla snuck up and attacked him from the side. The shot was random and convulsive, not aimed, caused when she struck and bit down on the Krall’s arm.”

“Carson, Kobalt and Kit are the two oldest living rippers. No pride member that was around when they were born is still alive, not even other cubs from that same year. Ripper lifetime in the wild runs about eighteen to twenty years. They’re eight months older than you and Ethan. At nearly twenty four, they’re old for rippers, son.” He didn’t want to sound pessimistic, but a touch of realism might help prepare him for a painful loss in the near future.

“Right. Ethan and I have been talking, and we’re going to have a serious frill talk with both of them. For now, I need to work down through the dome to disable their fusion power, and cut their landlines. I’ll have a shuttle come pick up Kobalt.” Carson ended the link, but his remark made Mirikami think of something he’d overlooked.

Selecting a wider Comtap circuit he said, “All dome infiltration teams; Kill the power in the main fusion bottles on the ground floors, they won’t be able to restart them after we leave. That’ll leave them in the dark, with only IR vision, and we see better than they do with ambient low light through the windows. It’ll also put any factory in darkness if they have one under them.” The Prada, originally nocturnal, had excellent night vision, and even limited portable lights would allow them to evacuate safely, while the power loss would shut down machines that might be used to produce weapons that didn’t require the quantum keypads, such as older style projectile weapons. The Krall had once used a wide range of more basic low technology weapons, just as humans still had when they first fought them.

When the PU Army finally invaded K1, there was no need to make it tougher for them to retake the human colony world by leaving the Krall with the ability to produce more and better conventional weapons than they used today. The Krall surely had stores of the older low-tech weapons and ammunition here, and on their production and clan worlds. Without clanships, those clan world weapons couldn’t get to K1. The same held for Poldark and New Dublin for that matter, when the Denial chips arrived there.

The lightening blitz on K1 had proven that getting in close to the enemy, spreading the Denial chips at close range in direct confrontation was how the Olt’kitapi had failed. They had been a pacifist species at heart, and despite high intelligence, didn’t have the thought processes of aggressive predators. Humans had them in spades, and Kobani would engage eagerly in the confrontations required, and they clearly had won that battle.

Now the rest of Carson’s information came into play, and Mirikami could make use of it to their advantage. He contacted Carol Slobovic. “Carol, is that pilot you captured still alive?” He’d left its fate to her discretion.

“You mean Phordot?” she asked, forgetting she’d not mentioned her captive’s name.

“If that was the blue suit you captured, then yes.”

“She’s the only surviving crew member, Sir, and that’s because I planned to take this clanship down to her clan’s dome and Tap her mind again.”

“I have a better use for her and you. Telour was visiting a small finger clan’s dome on the southern-most continent, belonging to the Tandal clan. He escaped in a cluster of nine clanships that made it off K1. We haven’t landed at that dome yet, and I want you go there, as soon as I have someone capture a clanship without using a Denial chip. Your prisoner is about to be much cleverer than you thought.”

“Huh? I mean, uh…, what Sir? She stammered. “She doesn’t seem any brighter than the average Krall to me.” She was clearly confused. Mirikami explained in a rapid exchange of thoughts and images.

“Oh. OK, she surely thinks she’s that smart.” She agreed. “Let me know when to deliver her.”

“I need to set the stage first. I’ll get back to you.” Then Mirikami went hunting for another captive Krall.

“Dillon, do you or any of your teams have a live blue suit?”

“Hi Tet. I have a brown suit K’Tal or two, from two Dorbo domes.”

“Thanks, but if I can find higher rank I’ll leave those K’Tal’s to your discretion.”

“Carson called me about Kobalt, and mentioned he had an aide of Telour’s.”

“I know about that one and I have a different use for him later today, besides, his back is broken. You might ask Carson to see if he knows where Telour may have gone when he escaped. I think I know, but his aide might know which star system. We’ll need a guide.”

“Aha. Do I detect some lip pulling strategy being developed?”

“Several plans cooking, and you and Carson are included in the main plan. I’ll get back to you.” He checked in with two more people he counted on quite often.

“Thad, are you and Sarge near each other?”

“We’re not far apart, Tet. We’re still at the two large Mordo domes. I’m on the western tarmac and Sarge is on the eastern one, or else he’s inside the dome shutting down their power. We have all their clanships grounded, but I lost seven people when one of the disabled ships found a way to rupture their internal fuel tanks, just as a team was about to board them. At least the explosion was fast and violent, they didn’t burn.”

“Damn, I’m sorry Thad. I hadn’t heard.”

“I haven’t reported casualties to Maggi yet. Without plasma weapons or functional body armor, the Krall are a relatively minor threat to us with only pistols. A few got to some of the Dragons and laser batteries before we could deny them access, but they fired on our full sized ships as they came in, instead of at our more vulnerable people on the ground. We had time to snipe them with Denial chips before we had other than minor damage and scorch marks. Do you have another mission for us?”

“I do. On a small equatorial continent, where they keep many of the Prada and Torki workers, they’ve been repairing damaged clanships. Surveillance from the Mark shows there are several ships that appear intact enough to Jump, but have some unrepaired hull damage. I don’t want any of them disabled with Denial chips, but I need at least two of them captured, and loaded with pallets of plasma rifles and power packs, all still functional. That means you can’t get a Denial chip close to them, or near the weapons I want loaded onto them. When you land there, secure the ships, and try to reassure the Prada and Torki they have nothing to fear from us. The Torki will be an easy sell, as soon as Coldar on the inbound medical ship contacts them through their Olts.”

“OK. How soon do you need us there?”

“In an hour will be fine. I need to get Joe Longstreet and his spec ops pals busy rigging some timers or remote triggers, and a Raspani or Torki to tell us how to use those with Denial chips. That requires the medical ship to land there first. I’ll get back to you.”

“Understood. I’ll ask Sarge to take a shuttle over to join me and we’ll leave his ship here for our people to use.”

Next, he found Longstreet. “Joe, are you busy?”

“Hey Tet, not anymore. It’s mostly make-work now, since our snipers, rippers, and flying spy bots have disabled everything around the three domes assigned to us. Our rippers circled under all of the clanships parked at the outer perimeters, the fly bots went inside the domes and shut down fusion power and locked a few doors, and our snipers on the roofs shutdown all the clanships closer to the domes.”

“Any casualties?”

“Only among the Krall, unless you count a blister on a busy sniper’s trigger finger. Perhaps a thousand dead lizards.”

“Joe, I asked your men to avoid mixing it up with them if you could. That was an extra risk.”

“Gee, you should have told the rippers. They were tearing them new assholes anytime they saw one. Sometimes literally. My snipers and I stayed busy picking off any Krall we spotted outside with pistols, afraid they’d be firing at the cats. I guess we didn’t need to be too worried. Other than a graze or two, the Krall couldn’t hit them worth a shit. Man, can those big cats twist and change direction, and I think they rattle and scare the warriors a hell of lot more than any of us do. I guess ‘cause we don’t eat them, or roar our pleasure when we kill one. The freaking noise was awesome.

“The cats are damned sneaky too. Any warrior with a shot at one coming towards them is dead meat. There would always be one or two coming in from the side or behind the shooter. Hell, I shot one blue suit just before the flanking ripper, which I didn’t see coming, could take it down. The look that cat gave me, exactly back along my firing lane to my stealthed and concealed position, positively gave me shivers. Stealthed or not, it looked directly at me. I could see its eyes boring into me through my scope, and it was clearly pissed that I took its kill. I understand from Dillon that I can expect to find something dead stowed in my bunk, or cat piss in my armor sometime in the near future. They apparently get even for slights or insults, and have a wicked sense of humor.

“That they do, Joe. I also told them via frills with the experienced pride hunt masters to kill the enemy only when it was necessary to defend themselves or others. They were supposed to pass that along to the younger pride members. I showed an image of a warrior shooting at them as an example that justified attacking the Krall. I see now I didn’t present a clear mental image of their trying to stay concealed, where they wouldn’t be seen in the first place. I suspect they set up situations where one of them exposed themselves just to draw fire, so the pride mate already in position had a valid reason to kill the shooter.”

“Uh…” Joe seemed to consider his next words. “They might have seen some of us doing that. When you asked us not to get too involved with knocking off individual Krall, a few of us…, well most of us really, found it hard to resist shooting them when they charged at us with pistols and a few rifles blazing. We might possibly have baited them a little bit, by switching off stealth from time to time so they spotted us.”

Then he got defensive of their attitude. “After decades of the bastards swarming over our people, and showing zero mercy, it’s easy to understand why.”

Mirikami did understand. “Don’t get your drawers all bunched into your crack, Joe. I actually intend to draw some of the people you just mentioned into the fighting here on K1. Want to know my plan, and help to set it up for me?”

“That sounds like a polite invitation, but I know you mean it for real, so I think I’ll take this as more than a courtesy call. What can we do to spread the chaos?”

Mirikami explained.

“Sure, we always have some timers and remote trigger devices with us, and more Denial chips than we can use now. Not as many trigger devices as we brought on our first recon mission here, but If you’ll only have two clanships and their load of weapons, we won’t need very many. One per ship actually, but I think you want to deliver multiple surprises with different delays and triggers. Right?”

“You got it. Grab four or five human made shuttles to transport everything you’ll need, since they don’t use Denial chip keypads, and seek out some plasma rifles and spare power packs that are still suitable for Krall use. Keep rippers away, because their chip collars would disable every single weapon. Fly the rifles to the repair domes I told you about, and coordinate with Thad and Sarge, because they’ll be obtaining the two Trojan horses.”

“Trojan what?”

“Sorry. I mean the clean clanships we’ll use. As Maggi would say, you need to study ancient Earth history. Some ideas never go out of fashion. Let me know when you’ve gathered everything you need at the repair domes.”

“Will do.”

Maggi, having been collecting casualty reports, had kept one ear open to her husband’s side of the preceding conversations. “I was puzzled about what you were up to for a time, but your lip pulling lasted so long that I knew you had several different things you were juggling. After you talked to Joe, I know two of them. Care to tell me the other one?”

“Of course. Did you pack enough clothes for a longer trip? About a month one way?”

“I can do laundry. I take it we’re going after Telour.”

“Yep. I knew you would’ve figured out where he was likely to go, once he realized we had him beaten here.”

“He has a head start.”

“Not to his final destination, he doesn’t. He’ll have to make a stop when he’s close, which will take at least a couple of days. We don’t need to make that stop.”

“Oh. You’re right. It’ll be glitzy to see his reaction when he finds out. We’ll want to record that.”

“Glitzy indeed, if not outright fabuli.” Mirikami agreed with a grin, using another of the handful of words very young Kobani kids had once invented, expecting to confound their elders when they spoke their private and supposedly secret slang.

Chapter 2: Divide and Conquer

Maggi was talking to the ship just entering atmosphere and about to land. “Carol stay about a thousand feet from the clanship parked about a quarter mile out from the west side of the dome, but please stay well away from the dome too. We don’t want your ship too close to either one to avoid the Denial list transfer. The Mark is the ship on the east side of the dome, a couple of thousand feet out.”

“Roger, Maggi. Phordot was allowed to overhear that we were landing at a repair dome to finish its capture, and to speak with the Prada workers, so she knows where we’ll be. I doubt when she makes her break that she’ll want to run for the dome. That ship with open portals should be her preferred destination. The vacuum seal hatches for upper decks will all be locked and the supposed power shutdown will only be on the lower decks.”

“Who’s staying aboard?”

“Sergey will be on the Bridge. He’ll watch Phordot, and if he sees her try to move towards the higher decks, he’ll make some noise to force her to head lower. She knows any of us can whip her ass bare handed. We left her unsecured in a compartment with several of us casually talking about landing here, seemingly paying her little attention. She tried to jump one us twice from behind while we used Comtap to make sure we all knew when she tensed to spring. She got slapped down hard both times, and I’m sure she gained more respect for us.”

“OK. I can see you now by eyeball from an open portal on the Mark. If your prisoner acts quickly enough, Thad and Sarge can bring their ship down in a half hour or less. The other damaged clanship parked near the Mark is for their prisoner to steal.”

Carol’s captured craft settled quietly on Normal Space drive, a safe distance from the designated damaged clanship. As soon as it was down, nine of the ten Kobani boarding team made ample noise as they descended past the prisoner’s locked storage compartment, assuring that it knew they were leaving. They killed the power to the lower decks before they made their exit, plunging the Krall and lower compartments into darkness, at least in visible light. The Krall had IR vision that would serve it adequately, using the residual heat in the bulkheads, and the added warmth retained for a time in the electrical circuits just killed.

After the bump of the landing and the gravity field altered slightly, the hum died from the Normal Space drive. Phordot promptly heard the clattering of multiple armored feet on stairs and metal decks coming nearer, and assumed one or more of her captors would open her chamber where she had been locked away. She assumed they intended to use her in some fashion, perhaps to order the Prada to follow human instructions after they had control of the dome. There normally were a few low status warriors at these domes, recently out of novice training, and these humans had said they’d kill them if they failed to surrender.

The idea of young Krall warriors surrendering to humans was preposterous, so they would need a captive higher status Krall to pass along their orders to the Prada. They expected Phordot’s blue suit to engender quick obedience from loyal Prada elders, which is why they brought her along. She would honorably refuse, of course, forcing them to kill her.

Instead of removing her from her temporary cell when they passed her compartment, she heard multiple faint ultrasonic whines as plasma rifles were activated as they strode right past the closed hatch. These were obviously Krall rifles, because the humans typically used a silent multi-beam weapon system built into their armor. She had already noted that the inoperative rifles they had taken from her, and her dead crew, activated normally for humans. She learned this the hard way, because they had left one where she could get her hands on it for one of her attempted surprise attacks.

She snatched up the weapon she had seen one of them deactivate, and pressed a talon on the recessed button but it remained dead. One of them whirled around in a blur and powerfully tore it from her hands as he kicked her in the abdomen, and then broke another one of her teeth with the rifle butt. He powered it on for her in a clear demonstration, aimed it at her head, then shut it down with a snort of humor and placed it farther away from her.

Afterwards, they insultingly ignored her, discussing in Standard what they would use her for with the Prada slaves after they had control of the small dome. The smallest one of them, her original captor, had then bodily carried her, despite her strenuous but futile resistance, to this compartment and locked her inside.

She’d heard a single lower portal whoosh open before they’d descended. The group clumped across the deck of the lower hold, then, her compartment suddenly went dark in visible light. From the silence after that, she knew they’d made their exit. She went to the still softly glowing warmth of the keypad for at least the sixteenth time, and tried yet another rapid code combination to try to get the hatch to open. As on previous attempts, she failed to find the new code. This time though, she realized they had powered down not only the light circuits, but had killed a completely different secondary circuit for the keypad power. She knew this because she felt no tactile feedback from key presses, as sensed when the panel had power.

With a flash of insight, she hoped they had made a mistake due to human unfamiliarity with a clanship. To prevent her from testing for random door codes, they may have used the main power disconnect to simultaneously disable the keypad and lights, instead of using the independent secondary circuits, leaving the keypad powered. She quickly pressed against the door panel at its base, and then pushed out and upward, and felt it shift slightly. Success!

This hatch opened on a narrow companionway, and rather than open out on hinges, it was powered and slid into a slot in the thick armored bulkhead.

In excited exhilaration, she pushed two toe talon tips under the small gap formed at the bottom, and then repeated the outward and upward press to lift the hatch a few millimeters again. She shoved the two toe talons deeper under the wider crack at the base to hold it up, and repeated the push and lift until she felt a slight click through the hatch surface. Then she pushed and pulled to the left and the hatch shifted almost a talon thickness sideways into the receiving slot. With the fingers of both hands, she gripped the hatch edge to push up and pull left with all her strength, and the hatch abruptly slid all the way left and dropped down into the locked and open position.

This emergency manual hatch release technique would never have worked with power applied to the hatch mechanism nor if there were a vacuum on one side and atmospheric pressure holding the door sealed against air loss. However, on a fully pressurized deck, with a complete power loss from battle damage, the manually operated slide bolts, one set on the inside and another one outside of the hatch, could keep the hatch from being slid open with this push and lift method. The hatch was designed to keep an intruder out of the compartment, or to hold a captive inside, if all power had failed. The humans obviously didn’t know this. They didn’t understand these ships as well as their rightful users.

Feeling very clever, Phordot didn’t waste her time climbing to higher decks to try to power on the fusion bottles with their key codes also reset. Instead, she moved towards the reflected outside light from around the far end of the narrow corridor’s corner, which came through the portal they had left open. She moved swift and quietly in the direction of the footsteps that she’d heard earlier. It didn’t occur to her to wonder why the humans had clumped around so loudly, when they hadn’t done so before on their normally padded armored soles. That was also unconsciously attributed to careless human animals, overconfident in their newly acquired strength, and a belief they had control of the situation.

She saw another clanship through the portal, with visible but minor hull damage high up, parked a short distance away. She’d overheard them say this was one of the repair station domes on Telda Ka. If this clanship wasn’t too badly damaged inside, it might even be flight worthy, assuming it had adequate reaction fuel for a launch. If not, it might have usable weapons for a final stand against this cursed enemy. Death in combat was honorable.

She leaped out and hit the tarmac at a full sprint. It only took seconds to cross and leap into the conveniently open portal of the nearby ship. She hooked the talons of one hand on the opening’s edge as she entered, swinging around and landing silently in a crouch, facing inwards. She had scanned the hold as she approached, and noted it was a clanship that had been loaded, ready for the New Glasgow invasion before it was damaged. There were secured pallets of cases of plasma rifles, spare power packs, and small fusion powered field rechargers for the power packs. The single open portal was angled away from the dome, so it couldn’t be seen by observers there. She’d not seen any figures on the tarmac as she ran, human or Krall, although if in armor with stealth active, she couldn’t see them anyway. She believed the humans would have raced to the dome if they intended to take control.

She moved around a pallet, away from the portal, and flipped open two catches on a top case of rifles. Lifting the lid slightly, she reached inside and grasped the closest rifle in its rack. As she lowered with it in a crouch, she expertly tapped a talon in the activation slot and experienced a visceral thrill as she heard the faint whine of the containment magnets powering up, the plasma chamber drawing power from the energy dense pack. She knew the heating chamber would have the first plasma bolt heated to firing temperature in seconds. She was armed.

She removed a second rifle, activated it as well, but slung it by its strap across her back, tightening the adjustable buckle on her thick chest to hold it secure. She moved quickly back to the open portal, used a glance to make sure the area looked clear, and tapped the standard two-button code to close the portal. She cringed a bit at the whoosh, and the deadened thud as it seated against the padded and pressure sealing base and edges.

Phordot promptly changed the standard opening code of that portal to a more complex one, often used by her clan for interclan wars. She next entered an auxiliary command code that set every keypad onboard to now respond only to the same eight-digit clan code. Now no one could get inside from any external airlock using the standard door code. This was a feature normally permitted only during times of declared interclan warfare, and that measure had to be approved by the Joint Council, at least on any clan’s war material that was generally considered communal Krall property. She knew she wouldn’t receive any censure or status loss for the unapproved measure in this case.

In the now closed lower hold, she detected the scent of humans, but nothing fresher than an hour or more. She raced at full speed, hampered only slightly by the finger fractures she’d received at the time of her initial capture. She paused at the thruster-engine deck level, and verified there was enough reaction mass in the binary fuel tanks for at least a launch and landing, possibly even two. Her next concern was if the upper hull damage she’d seen included any Trap field emitters.

She wanted tachyons to power her plasma cannons for faster recycling than with fusion power, as well as to increase power to her heavy lasers. Yet, having an inertialess Normal Space drive available, once she could activate Trap fields after leaving the gravity well, would give her maneuverability and a high acceleration that the low levels of reaction mass fuel made impractical. It also meant she would have Jump capability, but leaving K1 wasn’t on her agenda if she could fight the invaders right here.

Her agenda changed the moment she leaped onto the command deck and saw the partly disassembled control console, which the Prada workers had left behind when the human’s invasion started. At first glance, she despaired that her efforts had come to nothing to use this clanship, but one of the four control stations was still operational, and it came online as soon as she gave it power.

A rapid check of the weapons systems and the missile inventory revealed fresh disappointments. The four plasma cannon chambers were fully offline, possibly caused by the burn through on the hull she’d see from outside, but the lasers would function. There were no missiles listed as being aboard, which considering how heavily she’d seen the ship loaded with small arms pallets as she climbed to the command deck, probably meant even the missile compartments were packed with rifles and power packs, leaving no room for missile crews to work. This must have been a clanship assigned to a minor clan for the invasion force, with too low a status to demand a portion of the more desirable heavy war equipment to transport.

She reassessed what she could accomplish with this flight operational but effectively toothless clanship. Lasers alone against the ship she had just escaped from might be able to destroy it, if she was given enough time. Except another human controlled ship on the far side of the dome surely had plasma cannons, possibly preheated, and perhaps missiles that could arm in the mile distance between them. There was no way to tell if anyone were left inside that other ship. Her ability to launch before they knew she was free might be a short time, and once that was known, they had ships with missiles in orbit that could intercept her if they knew she was lifting.

A suicide attack was something she considered, rising a half a mile and then diving into either one of the human ships here. The drawback to that tactic was there was no certainty there were any enemy aboard either ship. The discussion she heard, after she was knocked down after her second attempt to attack one of them from behind, came to mind.

When they finished subduing K1, which was almost complete, they were planning a few days of consolidating their newly captured clanships into a larger fleet, and then would Jump from K1 to Poldark, to attack the roughly five hundred outnumbered clanships there.

She knew from supply runs there, and to New Dublin, that most of the clanships at the invaded planets would normally be on the ground, used as mobile area defense installations that could also be used for orbital attacks or defense, or to support renewed ground assaults. If parked, most of them would be located inside their defensive perimeter of heavy plasma batteries. The previously destroyed batteries of that ring had been replaced after the partial force withdrawal from that planet, but the humans she overheard bragged they had used small arms fire with special electronics inside, to disable clanships somehow, and the heavy war equipment. The clans fighting at Poldark would not expect that mode of light attack, and would ignore it, as they had mistakenly done here at K1. They needed to be warned.

Whatever the humans had done here, the clans at Poldark were unaware of the risk they faced by coming into close contact with the enemy, as they preferred to do. Fighting at a standoff distance would improve their chances if they knew about the risk in advance. It was settled in her mind. Her duty was to go to Poldark and alert the Gatlek of the threat coming their way in another few days, and then he could send warning to New Dublin. They would be ready with new tactics.

****

Mirikami clapped his hands in satisfaction, as the clanship launched at maximum thruster acceleration, and passed the two-mile mark. “There she goes. I was afraid for a moment she might decide to try to ram one of us. We had missiles and plasma cannons ready, and the transmitter code for the device we put inside the control console, but we don’t have very many Krall accessible clanships left on K1 to use this way. I’m glad it’s on its way.”

Maggi said, “I’ll link to Henry again, and tell him to warn his Planetary Defense Forces to allow a lone clanship through next week, and make a token effort to knock it down. Should I tell him that Thad and Sarge will Jump for Poldark later today with a four hundred ship fleet, right after their own blue suit makes his miraculous escape to New Dublin?”

“Yes, do that, and give him the various spec ops activation codes Joe had his boys set up on their remote devices. Ask him to coordinate with Admiral Foxworthy too, so she can make certain Phordot also slips past the heavy cruiser squadron next week. I’d hate to have the navy get lucky and knock out the only supply clanship Henry ever wanted to let land safely. With Admiral Bledso resigning, and President Medford selecting a political ally as Chairfem of the Joint Chiefs, Foxworthy might be wary of cooperating with any Kobani operation.”

“He doesn’t have to let her know this is our operation.” Maggi suggested.

Mirikami shook his head. “We’ll want her support after the landing, and when Thad arrives. I think she’s sympathetic to us. She had to be a Bledso protégé to get command of the Poldark squadron, and she won’t be happy that her boss was forced out over politics. If we let her in on the operation she can plan ahead, she can make her squadron look good against the Krall by participating.”

“Navy personnel can’t board the clanships, Tet. Even if they’re disabled.”

“No, that’ll still be our jobs. Nevertheless, we can furnish the navy with Denial chips for striped down anti-ship missiles, like those we used. Not all of the small arms going to Poldark and New Dublin have uninfected chips, you know. Thad’s group will be taking loads of infected power packs with their chips ready for salvage.”

“Hon, you told Haveram and the Falcon to stop at Poldark to see Henry, to pass along some Denial chips, and then Jump to New Dublin. We don’t have any sure navy ally in charge of that other squadron, and the Army forces there were never under Henry’s command. How’s he going to get both the army and navy to work with the Kobani, now that the president has turned on us?”

“Major Caldwell, Henry’s aide de camp will act as our go between and travel with the Chief. He met Commander Molotov when she was serving as a captain under Foxworthy in the squadron at Poldark, and he believes she’s a Bledso supporter because the New Dublin squadron was given to her by Bledso, after she was Chairfem of the Joint Chiefs. Howard also knows General Ellen Masterfem quite well, having served under her in a Ranger company, years before her promotion and long before Henry hired him as his aide.

“Howard’s convinced he can get them both to cooperate with us, particularly when he demonstrates the Denial chips in a closed test with a Krall prisoner. No matter what Medford says about us, they want to win this war. He’s worried that he and the Chief may have to capture a live warrior themselves since there are no Kobani spec ops on New Dublin to do it in advance. That might give away his gene mods. Perhaps Chief Haveram can do it alone.”

Maggi looked worried. “The Chief never trained with our raiders. He’s been on the Falcon making supply runs ever since he became a full Kobani.”

“Hey, Tiger Lady, all you had was Mind Taps on fighting techniques before you boarded Huwayla with me. You were teaching some spec ops dirty tricks before that was over. Haveram has had his share of scrapes. Ask him about his shopping trips to New Australia and a run-in with gangsters.”

“Shopping? Doesn’t sound very exciting,” she sniffed.

“It is the way Chief Haveram does things. He left at least fifteen armed thugs dead along the way, and only used a gun on one of them, and a knife on two others.”

“I’ll bet he never was trapped underground in the dark with ten thousand feral Krall,” came her defensive retort.

“Nope. He’s too smart to get his ass in that sort of a trap.”

Mirikami quickly stepped farther away from his petite wife, just in case she wanted to display some form of displeasure at his impolite characterization of her own misadventure last year. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, reserving retribution for some probable future provocation due to her husband’s brand of humor. Besides, she privately agreed she’d made a dumb mistake that time.

Thad’s new ship, which he’d finally named the Ripper, settled on the tarmac near a second damaged clanship, also apparently waiting for repairs, and strangely enough, it too was packed with small arms, it had no missiles, and sported a not so coincidentally damaged command console, with a single control station operational.

Again, a team of Kobani noisily rushed off the Ripper and headed for the dome, but paused on the tarmac with visual stealth active, simply waiting to watch their prisoner make his escape, and then steal the juicy bait ship left waiting for him. This blue suit had also overheard the news that after completing the capture of clanships on Telda Ka, these spectacularly powerful and effective human fighters were going to travel to New Dublin, to try to capture the roughly five hundred clanships operating in support of that invasion force.

After ten minutes of standing several hundred feet from the Ripper, with no activity reported from the Bridge observer, Thad said, “I knew I should have used the smarter acting K’Tal I captured, instead of the dumb damn blue suit that fell in your lap Sarge.”

“Why? He’ll figure it out.”

“If you managed to catch him so easy, he must have been the moron of the lot. We’ll probably have to go unlock the door for him, then run and hide. Might have to leave him a sign in Krall script saying Please steal the ship next door. If he can read.”

“Why does his capture make him dumb?” Sarge inexplicably felt like he needed to defend the damn Krall he’d captured, after Thad’s insulting comments.

“Well, you said he walked backwards down a corridor right into your arms. That’s a stupid Krall move. The numbskull probably can’t figure out how to get the hatch open without power.”

Still defending his captive, Sarge said, “I was stealthed, and you were so clumsy and noisy wrestling with that K’Tal and the black suit you surprised, that he was focused in that direction. He wasn’t backing up, anyway. He just couldn’t see me coming from behind.”

“He was standing there, looking dumbfounded at my capturing his clan mates instead of helping them. Not a swift thinker. I told you we should have used my K’Tal prisoner.”

“Right. Let you win our bet on who captured the best prisoner to use. Pay me pal, you lost! Besides, your K’Tal technician might try to fix the dismantled command console, and he’d find and remove the remote controlled actuator.” He couldn’t see Thad’s face, but he more than suspected he was getting his chops busted only to provoke a reaction. As usual.

“I have that device so well hidden that…,” Thad’s rebuttal was interrupted by a Comtap announcement.

“The prisoner is out, and headed up to the bridge.” That was a link from Andrew Johnson, who Thad had left on the bridge, watching monitors from cameras in the corridors.

“At least he’s smart enough to want to take back control of his own ship.” Sarge muttered defensively.

Thad gave a Krall style derisive snort. “The airtight deck doors above him are powered and locked. The dumb ass can’t get past those.”

Sarge pointlessly defended his prisoner again, “Since we’re on K1, why would he expect those atmospheric blowout protectors to be closed and locked? It’s a smart move to see if he can retake control of his ship.”

Johnson, included in the group link, ignored the two typically bickering friends’ mutual attempts to get the best of the other, part of the time using word play like today (except when they were playing poker, when their nit picking was almost unending). He said, “After trying several sealed deck plates, he’s turned back and heading down towards the hold.”

“Finally,” Thad said. “I hope the bonehead doesn’t run over to the dome. We didn’t think to lock that.”

Reynolds ignored him, starting to doubt the cleverness of this particular Krall himself. Suddenly the blue suited Krall appeared at the open portal and quickly leaped out, then exactly as Phordot had done, raced at an improbable speed for the bait clanship. He ran fast, at least for the short bowed looking legs of a Krall. Despite appearances, they could smoothly outrun the best human Olympic runner that had ever lived, in a marathon or in a sprint. That was mainly because no Kobani modified human had ever participated in an Olympics. With their proportionally longer and stronger legs and greater endurance than a Krall, a Kobani could easily outrace any warrior, and of course by implication could defeat any Normal human in probably any Olympic event.

When the second ship had finally lifted, after a longer wait than for the other bait ship, an AI analysis of its Jump trajectory indicated it was tracking generally towards the coordinates of New Dublin.

Mirikami formed a link with the entire Kobani complement that had gone to K1. Over thirty seven thousand individuals.

“Congratulations people. K1 will soon belong to humanity again, and we’ll next help Poldark and New Dublin take down those soon to be ineffective Krall invasion forces. Unless we have badly underestimated Krall numbers and strength on their own worlds, we might end this war soon. I include all of humanity in the term we, because us Kobani are too few to finish this fight ourselves within a reasonable timeframe. Combined with the size of the PU military, we should be able to conclude the war within another year, possibly two. There may be some isolated Krall clans left, but they aren’t going to be the threat they have been, with their Olt’kitapi designed toys taken away from them.

“You people made it possible, but we have to allow our fellows in Human Space to complete the conquest here, and to join with us in defeating the Krall wherever they have footholds in Human Space. It’s true we could do it here with fewer losses overall, than the PU Army will suffer doing it, but it would take us a long time with the low numbers we have, and cost us too many lives for our limited population. We’ve lost twenty-six people today, even as careful and restrained as we’ve been. This isn’t a proper job for the small sharp tip of the spear. Let the PU hammer finish things here.

“There are possibility fifteen to twenty million Krall on this planet, and even their clan leaders we’ve Mind Tapped don’t really keep track of their numbers, not within the Great or Major clans. Probably only the finger clans know their own numbers, since those would be only in the tens of thousands.

“We have other priorities for our forces, and we’ll leave a sizable blocking force here for returning clanships. We now have nearly twenty three hundred ships under our control; including the hundred-seventeen that we had when we arrived. Excuse me a moment, I need some numbers.” He paused to Mind Tap with Maggi, who had been linking with people around the planet.

“OK. I have new figures from the people Mind Tapping the few clan leaders we’ve captured alive so far. We think the total Krall population on all of their planets is barely more than what humanity has on Earth and Mars. Perhaps fifteen to twenty billion. They are proliferate egg layers, because that’s what they bred themselves to be. That reproduction rate will remain a problem on individual worlds, but without the means to train, arm, and move those young novices to other planets, their galactic conquest is finished. However, they will probably remain a threat on an individual planetary scale for decades.

“Their most effective weapons have been severely compromised by us, since the Olt’kitapi designed equipment is now easily denied to them. The Krall abandoned most of the habitable planets they won, at least after they used what they considered was most useful for war, and either left them empty to go wild, let them go feral, or kept a few Prada and Torki villages on them without any resources to expand, and came back to make sure they stayed primitive. All of those types of worlds may be easy to reclaim for habitation. If we help them do it, the Prada, Torki, and Raspani might be able to recolonize or reclaim a couple of dozen of their former worlds. Of course, even they don’t have nearly as large surviving populations as first thought because the Krall ruthlessly thinned them out when there were more of them than they needed. Strangely, wild Raspani herds will help those friends of ours recover the most rapidly. Via the millions of personalities stored in mind enhancers, as they ramp up chip production to embed in the wild ones.

“I suspect we and our allies will wield considerable bargaining power over the hundreds of prime colony worlds we will control when we finish taking them away from the Krall. If humans were to terraform even the slightly marginal worlds, as we did initially in our early expansion, there will be four or five thousand worlds where a human society could thrive, planets which most of our allies wouldn’t even want. The highest gravity worlds might particularly draw future Kobani settlers. We’ll have considerable land and mineral resources to offer Human Space as inducements to accept us with our gene mods. If they refuse, let them try to take what we have won away from us. We’ll share under our terms, but no one will take anything from us.

“Today, I’m sending five hundred ships back to the Koban system for homeland defense, staffed well enough and supplied well enough to defend the system from any probable Krall fleet they might still manage to assemble. There are roughly five hundred clanships at Poldark and another five hundred at New Dublin, most of which I think we will be able to capture. There are an estimated five or six hundred clanships spread among the clan planets and production worlds. The Krall never engaged in commerce or personal travel, only war, so they only built warships, and kept Torki migration ships for moving bulk material or slave populations.

“We finally control more warships that do the Krall! Not to mention many more than does the PU navy. We can fly and fight these war birds even better than the Krall do, even in the ones that still have Krall performance limits applied. For those of you going home with newly captured ships, your first task is to have the Prada and Torki teach you how to remove the acceleration and performance limits, so that if you do meet a clanship in battle, you’ll have our physical advantages in your favor.

“I’m sending three hundred of our new ships, in six groups of fifty, deep into Krall territory to disable and capture more of their clanships, and to kill as many of their dome and factory power plants as they can find. With Krall landing codes taken from the minds of captured clan members, they should be able to fly in without suspicion and conduct fast in and out raids. Once stuck on the surface of a planet, they’re only a threat right there. Given time, they no doubt could get new ships built with slave labor, which would not require or use the Olt’kitapi circuits to operate. So long as they are warlike and aggressive, we won’t let them do that, and we intend to rescue their slave labor.

“I’ll leave five hundred ships here at K1, to meet and greet arrivals from various places. We’ve had three of those already today, which have kindly consented to donating their craft to our growing navy. Of the remaining thousand ships we have, four hundred will go to Poldark today, and four hundred to New Dublin, to help take those thousand clanships out of service. Since only Kobani can fly them, and we made their capture possible, they will all join our fleet if captured intact.”

Noreen had kept a tally, and boldly interjected a question. “Captain, that leaves two hundred ships. Would you like to tell us where those are going?” He sensed her smile through the Comtap link. She’d been part of the planning, and was setting the stage for him.

“Why certainly, Noreen.” He answered in a cheery tone, pausing a moment, to build anticipation.

“We’re going after Telour’s little band of nine ships. We might need to spread out quite a bit to search some distant star systems. Based on the helpful information in his aide’s mind, and in that from a couple of Krall sub leaders that made the trip previously, we have to beat him to his final destination. He’ll have to make a diversion first to visit the planet where they have their Krall’tapi prisoners, but that may not take him very long.

“Then Telour will be going to the Terran sized moon of a gas super giant planet, where the living Olt’kitapi ships are parked. The Krall guardians of that system have an unknown number of clanships, and they are comprised of elite fighters, considered fanatical even among the Krall. As you know, their role is to prevent the Dismantlers from ever falling into the hands of anyone but the appointed Krall war leader, the Tor Gatrol, or his designated representatives. Naturally, they look upon us mere animals with far more hatred than for a renegade clan.

“I’m confident that Telour will be seeking to gain control of the remaining operational doomsday ships, and there are three of them. He’ll want to destroy as many human worlds as he can, starting with Earth, and that would probably include Koban, now that we’ve been revealed. We’re going to intercept him. We have reason to doubt those ships will function for the soft Krall now, because the Krall’tapi are presumed listed as untrusted. We have to make certain that all of the other Dismantlers know what Huwayla learned about the Krall’tapi. With Mind Tap contact possible with these sentient ships, we can open our minds to them to let them see for themselves.

“We also will visit the soft Krall prison planet, learn what we can about those people and decide if, as a species, they have anything for which to be held accountable for the destruction at Meadow and Bootstrap.

“There’s no question that the murderous bastard Telour has a great deal to answer for, as do the entire genocidal Krall species. We’ll do our best to make sure that he and all his kind are held to account for their thousands of years of atrocities.

“Good luck to those assigned to the various groups. With Comtaps, no one will be out of the loop for what any group does, or of problems encountered. Mirikami out.”

Within hours of the completion of preparations, Mirikami and two hundred clanships Jumped for the coordinates of a star system that the Mind Tapped high-level Krall captives had revealed to them. Another three hundred ships simultaneously headed deeper into Krall territory, intending to break into smaller groups of fifty after reaching the closest clan worlds.

Eight hundred newly acquired clanships, with light crews of sixteen each, split into two forces and jumped for Poldark and New Dublin.

The Vanguard, with the alien allies aboard, along with five hundred escort ships, went to the small continent where most of the forced labor had been confined by the Krall for manufacturing and repair work.

A day later, the five hundred ships departed for Koban itself, to screen against any raiders that might go there. They also carried all of the Torki rescued on K1, with several thousand Prada youngsters and their mothers, after they had listened to the words of Wister and his sister Nawella, elder than any Prada on K1. They were told the Krall were not the elder race in the galaxy. They then were introduced to the first group of intelligent Raspani they had ever seen. They were assured by Blue Flower Eater that the Krall had deceived and used the Prada.

With so many Prada, and so much equipment they wanted to transport, they couldn’t fit everything or everyone in the first trip. Several migration ships would return for the rest, and take as much equipment as they could dismantle to take with them to the promised new home on Haven. All of the Torki had undergone the library expansion of their Olts, and their smaller numbers were eager to travel to Haven and freedom, despite the lack of comfortable water filled craft for the week of travel.

The final five hundred ships set up a screen around K1 itself, to look like Krall watch standers with the recognition codes to lure in new arrivals to disable. Two hundred of those ships patrolled low over the planet, looking for signs of power restored at any domes not occupied by freed Prada, or of movements of heavy war material that had not yet been disabled.

A hundred ships searched K1 for Raspani herds to rescue, to transport to that same isolated continent with the repair domes. The Raspani representatives had brought several thousand of the mind enhancers with them, and implantation equipment. They wanted to move more of the minds of their people out of the congested mental state they had existed in, stored in a few special library chips, many in a state of near mental hibernation to stay sane. Knowing that full independent mental freedom was possible for some of them made the wait less tolerable now, than when they had no hope of an independent life.

****

The Ripper, and the three hundred ninety nine Kobani ships in the Poldark fleet, commanded by Greeves, was now only hours away from White Out. Nabarone had just confirmed that the expected bait clanship had performed a low White Out, ten hours ago, and had streaked straight in to land in the center of the Krall main defensive area. They had fired only heavy lasers at it, which came close but didn’t hit the target. The navy just happened to have most of its squadron on the far side of the planet, or placed too far out to dive and intercept.

Thad was listening to Nabarone’s intelligence report. “Gatlek Fistok pulled back his most advanced elements where they were overextended when we counter attacked after the withdrawal. With some fresh deliveries of heavy equipment from K1 in the last two weeks, after the New Glasgow invasion was thwarted, he appears to be preparing to launch new assaults on two fronts. He wants to retake Novi Sad’s east bank after we pushed them back over the river, and up in the north he wants to push back into the foothills they had previously reached outside Kovoso.

“We never got them out of Kovoso itself after they overran that town, but we do hold those foothills now, and the mountain passes behind them. They actually need more rifles and small arms there, since some spec ops sappers blew up a huge supply dump they didn’t consider at risk. They really guard their heavy equipment in common equipment parks, watched over by several clans.

“Rifles and power packs seem almost personal weapons to them, and they left a huge stockpile lightly guarded, thinking we couldn’t really do them much harm, since they aren’t self-explosive. Our sappers used hundreds of thermite packs placed on top of alternate pallets near the center of the stockpile. Those sent heavy flaming particles spewing onto so many power pack pallets that when the fire blobs penetrated into the dense storage batteries, they shorted out, starting a self-sustaining series of extremely hot electrical discharges that melted down about seventy percent of the power packs, and damaged close to forty percent of the rifles stacked close to those pallets. They had never experienced a thermite attack on those type weapons, and regular explosives of the same mass as the thermite wouldn’t have done nearly as much damage.”

“OK,” Thad said. “I take it you think that much of the load of rifles and power packs on that single ship we let escape will go to the north. Have they started unloading? Are their clanships preparing to lift to wait for our arrival you think?”

“Our spy and fly bots have shown the pallets being loaded onto normal trucks, and some into heavy transports. The heavy transports are going towards Kovoso, but the smaller trucks are spreading through the territory they hold. Some will pass near clanships, and the small trucks are not key coded vehicles, like the heavy transports are, so they won’t break down or notice when the chips become Denials.”

He answered Thad’s final question. “We see some higher status blue and brown suits gathering near the Gatlek’s underground bunker. They may be planning to lift off some of their clanships shortly, but we don't know. I think the lack of obvious urgency means the warning of what happened at K1 may have been hard for them to believe, particularly coming from Phordot, a low status deliverer of supplies, and a member of a small clan. But they appear considering possible precautions and might get more ships aloft.”

“Henry, I think you need to trigger some of the Denial chips in the small trucks when they’re driving towards some of the parked clanships. They’ll probably pass close enough to infect some of them, and any other heavy weapons.”

“How do I exclude those in the transports, headed north from activating? And which pallets went on which trucks? I’d like those heavy transports to get through to Kovoso.”

Joe Longstreet, in the circuit but quiet thus far, spoke up. “Sir, this is Joe Longstreet. Our spec ops code transmitters can be set for directional and long range for twenty miles or so, or made low power and short range in a sphere. Don’t aim our drone mounted high power directional transmitters towards the north moving transports, and use lower power short-range mortar carried devices near the regular trucks that are on the north side.

“Some of our device actuators are built into special mortar shells that your non-Kobani spec ops already have in their supplies. Tell them to set the actuators to step through the complete basic three-code set, which is all that we used on our trigger devices. We didn’t have enough triggers for more than about a third of the pallets anyway. Krall counter battery lasers are only sixty percent effective against artillery, so fire several shells near where you want the Denial chips activated. The triggering range for our transmitters can be set for as little as a mile radius, or out to five miles when set for non-directional signals.

“After that, each activated pallet will become a mobile center for the spread of the Denial list. If they pass a Dragon within range, it’ll lock the Krall out. The same for a clanship or any device with a keypad where they pass close. The Krall won’t understand the spreading problem right away, and the truck drivers will be unaware of the trouble they’re leaving behind in their wake. When the heavy transports start to unload at Kovoso, activate those pallets with your directional transmitters in some fast drones you’re willing to sacrifice. There are no explosions to alert them right away, and they may oblige you by continuing to distribute the infected rifles and power packs. If they put them in a new arms dump, you eliminate everything in the dump all at once.”

Thad had another question. “Henry what did you do with the Denial chips Haveram left you before he and Howard Jumped for New Dublin?”

“We used them as seed stock to infect several thousand chips on rifles and power packs we captured when we pushed the Novi Sad assault forces back past some of their supply dumps. Normally, only we Kobani can activate them, but now I have a select group of my army troops, upon who I had the Katusha’s used to give them invisible tattoos. We found how to avoid leaving a visible mark, by practicing on volunteers. The first ones had black or colored ovals, placed somewhere inconspicuous. Now they can use any Krall equipment, but Normals find the Krall rifles too heavy to be practical for them, and we don’t get very many operational Dragons, and no clanships, of course.”

“Do you have many KK rounds with the new chips inside? We used those to good effect on K1.”

“Hey Thad!” Nabarone protested. “We’ve had less than twenty-four hours to work. Chief Haveram barely beat your Krall Trojan horse here by a half day. We don't have thousands of Prada to work their nimble little fingers to the bone swapping them out. We have at least ten or fifteen thousand rounds ready now, but we also have the damn Krall spread over most of a large continent, and we’re not able to simply fly in and get to them. They tend to shoot back.”

“Henry, if you can get snipers close to their main perimeter, where the heavy laser batteries are located, and where they park most of the clanships, a sniper can disable any of them if the target is within several miles. It doesn’t require precision shooting. A slug passing within a hundred feet of several targets affects them all.”

“Thad, after what we did to them during their force pullout, its tough now to get army infiltrators that deep into their territory and have them survive anymore. The Krall increased patrols five-fold, and they have mist dispersal systems that even reveal stealthed armor around the critical targets we might realistically try to reach. My three staff members and I are the only actual Kobani on Poldark right now. As you well know, everyone else pulled out to defend Koban and to get out of the PU’s clutches when Tet recalled all the Kobani to the home system. After that, the PU had every spec ops on Poldark genetically tested when they decided that anyone that had worn the new armor was one of us. Of course, they didn’t find anyone by the time they looked.

“They still don’t know about the bio lab and Kobani spec ops training camp on Heavyside, so there are some new Kobani there. So far, they’ve had no reason to test any Army personnel like me, or my staff. We do have some good spec ops people here on Poldark, but they’re the mechanically enhanced Normals that trained in heavy gravity. They can’t send in those men and hope to get them close enough before your fleet gets here in another hour or so.”

“OK, Henry, I agree we have a dispersal problem for the Denial chips. It will have to be our ships that put a cap over the continent to keep the Krall clanships from launching, and either escaping or fighting at a distance. Our stripped down anti-ship missiles with those chips are highly effective if we get within a few miles when we launch, but they won’t perform as well if they have to come through the entire atmosphere to reach their targets. A laser or plasma bolt can knock them out too easily. Like you, we don’t have an unlimited supply of those built yet.”

“Foxworthy has had her tech people working on the modified missiles for at least twelve hours. They might be able to back you up in a limited way.”

“They had enough Denial chips?”

“Crap, Thad. Think about what you, Tet, and Haveram told us. If you get one Denial circuit close to a stack of rifles or power packs, they all become Denial chips, and each one infects others. I already had some of the power packs we salvaged from the loaded transports we crashed into the river at Novi Sad when we blew the bridges. All we lack is time to make use of all those chips. We’ve been scurrying like rats to weaponize these things.”

Suddenly another familiar presence intruded into the Comtap link, and apparently went off on a different tangent “Hey, are the wharves and warehouses around the river still infested with rats?”

“Sarge, I didn’t know you were linked in,” answered Nabarone in pleased surprise. “Sure. Frigging rats are everywhere. Dead people, dead Krall, and dead animals rot where it’s too risky for us to recover or bury them. Hell, the Krall don’t even bury their own dead on their side of the river. They just toss bodies in piles and partly burn them, or throw them in the river. The rats have thrived. Years of war and no exterminators has given them good lives. The Krall actually seem to enjoy playing at killing them, with throwing knives, or even rocks. They don’t make a dent in their numbers. Why?”

“The Denial chips are the size and thickness of our little finger nails, tiny backup battery included, and they hold a charge for months after removed from a power source. They’re also physically tough.”

Thad said, “So tell me, oh rat master, what the hell has that got to do with our Krall problem?”

“Operation Hot Pest. Remember that Henry?” Reynolds asked.

“Early in the war? Sure, I remember. Right after they overran some of the first towns and cities as the invasion got started. The tactic didn’t really bother the Krall. They didn’t want the property or buildings anyway. Why does that come to mind?”

Thad didn’t know what they were talking about, and reminded them. “I wasn’t here, remember? What was Hot Pest about?”

Sarge filled him in. “I’d just finished my guerrilla warfare training at Camp Greeves. Don’t let that name go to your swelled head again.” The last was added for Thad’s benefit, since the camp had been named for him years after he’d gone missing, presumed dead after his ship’s capture by the Krall.

“Anyway, we knew the Krall never kept anyone alive in a captured town, other than a few stupid collaborators for a short time. We thought the enemy was making use of the shelter, and possibly raw materials and food supplies we left behind. We wanted to destroy it all. A scorched earth policy in captured territory, since there were no human lives there worth saving.”

Henry picked up the narrative. “We tied small thermite packages with timers onto rodents, mostly rats, and some Poldark bush-tails, and used extremely low flying drones to carry hundreds of them to the outskirts of the fallen towns, where they were released.

“Being urban dwelling pests, they naturally ran into the towns and hid, or ate the dead bodies in houses and buildings. Three days later, the time expired and thermite packs ignited, starting thousands of fires that burned the dead towns to the ground. The Krall didn’t give a crap or even try to put out the fires. After warming their butts against our colder climate, or roasting dried Raspani meat, they simply moved on. It had no impact on the course of the war, so we stopped doing it after four or five tries.”

“Now’s the time to try again.” Sarge urged.

“What good will house fires do us now?” Nabarone questioned.

“I think I see.” Thad came back, in a surprising word of support. “Tie Denial chips to them.”

“There ya go.” Sarge agreed. “The rats will run around the Krall pretty much ignored, and their weapons and armor will stop working.”

Henry had a rebuttal. “As I recall, most of the fires started in the outskirts of the towns because that’s where many of the rats paused to chew off the plastic ties that held the thermite onto their backs. They won’t carry those chips very far or for very long.”

Reynolds also had an answer for that. “I was a new Greeves Camp graduate, so I was one of those low rank flunkies who had to try and tie the damned thermite packs on rats and bush-tails. It was hard to hold them, they bit, and it was slow going in general. “That’s why you won’t tie them on this time. Let them do what they like to do naturally. Eat. Feed those small chips to them in food pellets, perhaps cover ‘em in tasty grease, or shove them down their throats or up their butts, where they can’t get rid of them. They eat damn near anything, and after that they’ll become our little electronic warfare pests.”

“Hey,” Henry exclaimed. Proving why he had the stars on his collar. “If rats will eat things that small so easily, we can coat thousands of chips with something rats find tasty, and pack them into mortar or smart artillery shells. We can fire them towards enemy positions set for a soft airburst charge, same as we use to drop spy bots over their lines. We’ve noticed their counter battery laser systems don’t always go after shells that are aimed well wide of any target of value. Intelligence thinks the laser defense batteries have digital maps of Krall positions and equipment, which get frequent updates. That’s because if a force has left an area and we fire on that spot, they let most of the shells through to waste our ammo. They focus those laser defenses on shells that might do actual damage.”

“Henry, that operation won’t be started before we arrive overhead, but it’s a good way to pull the teeth of their forces when you start your own assaults.” There was a noticeable lapse before they received his answer.

“Gentlemen, I just sent a Comtap to one of my aides. He’s been overseeing the KK chip replacements. We even have kids and old folks helping pop out the KK chips and shoving in the Denial chip. No circuit connections needed. There are piles of the new chips in bins, which they easily removed from infected Krall weapons. We had many more of them than we can load very fast by hand, one bullet at a time. Captain Gilford will take a bin or two by shuttle to deliver them to artillery ammo dumps. He’s going to ask a mess hall sergeant to send some men over to the shuttle with tubs of grease and finely ground up food scraps. The chips will be mixed with that, and stuffed inside the shells.

“Hell, even if rats don’t eat and spread all of them, if we do the airbursts high enough, on trajectories that will pass over good targets that the Krall think we’ve overshot, we can scatter chips where they will cover a lot of clans and their equipment. I’m moving up the schedule for my assaults anywhere we can spread these chips. Every ammo dump we capture gives us more Denial chips.” His sense of euphoria was palpable, and grizzly in its expression.

“God. I may get to enjoy this hideous damn war when it’s finally the Krall bodies that start to pile up.”

****

Approaching the mass White Out, Thad questioned his friend. “You sure you want to go down in a four ship Sarge?” Thad had assumed he would operate one of the weapons consoles with him, in their low orbit version of a Combat Air Patrol. “We don’t want a single clanship to get aloft if we can stop them.”

“Thad, I hired on with the PU Army to be a devious kind of ground pounder. I’d like to see this rat trick work this time, up close. With an opportunity to finally push the bastards back, instead of managing somehow to live through another rout of our troops, where they overrun our lines. I want to see our rippers wade through some of them. I’ll be down there to look after Ethan and Kit. They might decide to do something rash.”

“Hell, that’s your specialty. They’ll be pulling your bacon out of the fire.”

“Maybe, but I want to be down there.”

“Fine, leave me up here with an expanded navy squadron as backup that can’t tell most of our ships from the damned Krall. Only fifty of my captains have IFF equipment installed, and my Ripper is new so it isn’t equipped. Tet sent most of the IFF equipped ships to New Dublin, because that squadron has never worked with us. I may get friendly navy fire up my ass. You could watch my backside.”

“Quit whining. Foxworthy knows what she’s doing. She promised to fire only Denial anti-ship missiles at clanships rising towards your formation. You’ll have the missiles equipped with actual warheads if needed. I’ve seen you in combat, and you ain’t all that careful. The navy has more to fear from you shooting their asses off.”

“Get below you jackass, we White Out in ten minutes. Watch out for my boy and Kit, and be careful. Wish I could land with you.” The last remark revealed the true nature of his complaint. He wanted to be part of the ground assault, and had to play at being a paper admiral because Tet had put him in charge.

The four hundred Kobani ships performed their Comtap coordinated White Outs, barely above two hundred miles, spread over the Krall occupied continent. They had maneuvered prior to the Jump to emerge with a matching velocity with Poldark. They arrived with only Krall standard style stealth active for the large ships. Each ship promptly spewed their better stealthed four-ships and single-ships, which descended towards the central Krall defensive perimeter. The Kobani ships, only fifty of which had the new stealth systems, tried to look like typical Krall clanships, to gain any time delay they could for their more secretive small craft to get away undetected.

Ten minutes after they sprang into existence over Poldark, the sixty-five heavy cruisers of Foxworthy’s reinforced squadron appeared another five hundred miles above them, making their Jump from the other side of Poldark.

“Welcome home Admiral Greeves.” Foxworthy sent. She’d been kept informed of the exact timing of the arrival by Nabarone’s staff, who she believed had a Kobani Comtap specialist with them. That was true in a sense, for Nabarone’s staff, but they let her think Chief Haveram had left a Kobani behind.

“Thanks Admiral. I wish you’d call me Colonel, a rank I’m more comfortable holding. Admiral sounds…, forgive me if this sounds offensive, I don't mean it that way, but it’s too lofty a title for a simple army man like me. This temporary fleet command is the result of special circumstances.”

“Well,” she chuckled at his discomfort. “I could also call you Captain, since you command from the bridge of your own ship.”

“Good Lord. That would confuse me more Mam. By the way my ship’s called the Ripper, in case you hear that name from one of my other captains.”

“See? You call them captains.”

“Most all of them were really Spacers before we captured these ships, and a few of them were actual captains of commercial vessels, even if that was over twenty years ago. By the way, we just released at least eight hundred small craft to descend on Poldark. I’m sure even stealthed like typical Krall clanships that we show up on your low frequency radar systems, but I doubt that our small boats do.”

There was a pause as she checked. “No, we don’t see them at all, Admir…, I mean Colonel. General Nabarone told us you’d launch them. Presumably the Krall can’t see them either.”

“We hope not. They didn’t at K1. We sent several thousand of them down there, and they were right on top of them before they knew we were coming.”

“You really took down the whole planet?” She asked in an incredulous tone. She’d seen the Kobani fight with their ships, but this was unbelievable.

“Not the whole planet Mam. We disabled most of their clanships, much of their heavy war material, right on down to plasma rifles, body armor, and simple door keypads. Anything that uses the quantum-coded keypads that only let Krall use them. There are a hell of a lot of pissed off Krall on the surface that we never came near. Obviously, we brought some of the newly captured ships with us. We captured roughly two thousand two hundred at K1, and we started the attack there with only a hundred seventeen. They don’t have as large a fleet left to them now, and about a third of it is right here, where we hope to disable them.”

“Mirikami went against KI with only a hundred seventeen ships? Pretty damned gutsy or overconfident.”

“Definitely not overconfident. We were damned desperate though, because Telour had discovered our home world, and we only intercepted and stopped the ships he sent to scout us because we discovered we had some unexpected technology at our disposal. Tet knew Telour would send much of his fleet after us when his scout ships failed to return, so we had to strike first, before they expected us.”

“Excuse me? You just happened to discover you had some new technology that disables Krall clanships and equipment. How does something like that happen?”

“It’s actually a kind of software list of species that are not allowed to use things designed by the Olt’kitapi. I think Tet has mentioned that ancient race’s role in the Krall’s early development. Anyway, the list to deny Krall use of such equipment was passed like a virus to one of our own clanships when we met and intercepted one of the Olt’kitapi ships. The one that tore apart the gas giants at Meadow and Bootstrap. Afterwards, all of our ships were changed the same way, so the Krall cannot operate them but we can. We didn’t notice at first, because the list shared between those chips does not exclude our DNA pattern. That’s the source of the action of Denial chips, as we’ve started calling them. It’s how the Olt’kitapi intended to clip the wings of the Krall, but they were ineffective at war and were wiped out, letting these barbarians free to rape the galaxy.”

“Huh,” was her numb acknowledgement of a potentially war winning bit of serendipity. She snapped out of her daze when she received a report from her weapons officer.

“Colonel. While we were talking, six of my cruisers fired those doctored missiles at three clanships that were already on station well above you. We were told how to strip the missiles down, and Nabarone provided us the new ECM circuits, as he called them, which must be another name for the Denial chips your people gave him. I have to tell you, firing those without warheads made me nervous. The three clanship targets are still intact, but after their initial laser attempts to knock out our smart missiles or acceleration to avoid them, they’ve simply continued on their way, inert as can be. No other reaction. I’d expected them to launch everything they had at us, and at you.

“Yesterday, we had one of my cruisers lightly damaged by Plasma cannons when the clanship we were supposed to allow through suddenly arrived. We weren’t fired on by that craft, but the bolts came from one of the defensive clanships they now keep aloft, constantly moving and Jumping around. The joint attack on K1, your ships and ours, has made them more conservative about protecting their clanships. As Mirikami figured out, logistics was their Achilles heel, and now the Denial chips will cut their hamstrings. If crippled enough we can win this thing.”

Thad assured her, “When this week is over, Admiral, you may never have to worry about a Krall fleet again. We sent the same number of ships to New Dublin. They haven’t arrived yet, but we’re telling them how things are going here. They may have it easier because of lessons learned here.”

“Well, right now you and I do have to worry. The PDC’s sensors report multiple Krall launches, and satellite images show crews around most of their clanships. I don’t know why they took so long to react to your arrival, but we’re going to be busy for a time. I might have to pull my cruisers back a bit. We simply can’t risk getting in close to fight like I saw you do at K1.”

“I see them Mam. If you focus on any that get by us, we’ll try to keep most of them out of orbit, and I hope held too low for them to Jump.”

Things got very busy and often downright chaotic after that transmission.

Chapter 3: Catching a Virus

Reynolds found it hard to do as Thad had asked of him. Look after his son and keep him safe. “Ethan, you’re going to fall out of that damned hatch if I have to maneuver suddenly. I’ve been trying to keep the open hatch turned away from the ships blindly scanning us from below, but we’re so low now that I can’t do that. Some of them will see that open hole in our stealth, using normal scan mode.” The little four-ship held only Reynolds, Ethan, and Kit, plus a tub full of grease coated Denial chips they wanted find ways to disburse.

“Sarge, I’ve disabled each of the clanships within a mile of the hill top landing point you selected. They won’t be shooting at us.”

“If they were the only clanships able to shoot at us that’d be great, kid. But it ain’t like the beams from more distant clanships are limited to a mile ya know. Shut the hatch until I get us down.”

He heard the hatch slide shut, noticeable more by the reduction of wind noise than from the quiet motors. Ethan had asked to open the hatch when they were about ten thousand feet up. He wanted to use the height advantage to fire slugs with Denial chips close to the parked clanships they spotted around their selected landing point. By Ethan’s tally, he’d clipped the wings of over a dozen clanships that were gathered close to a rounded rocky mound. The moderate sized hilltop had offered good cover for their little craft, within a jumble of large craggy rocks and underbrush on its crown, and it would give them height for additional sniping.

Reynolds flew laterally towards the hillock, now that their revealing open door had shut to restore full stealth. The tachyon powered Normal Space drive made a slight hum, discernable only within the craft. They would be able to gently, and silently, ease down between the scattered boulders and scrub trees, with perhaps some rustling of branches. It appeared to be a breezy day, so there should be some of those rustling branch and leaf sounds produced naturally.

Reynolds issued a caution. “Before you open the hatch again, adjust and activate Kit’s Chameleon Skin. She might bolt out before you can stop her, like you said she did on K1.”

The deep throaty rumble and cold stare from intense, almost glowing blue eyes, told Reynolds the comment didn’t please her. He was questioning her stalking and hunting ability.

Ethan heard her growl and looked back at his cat sibling. “She didn’t have one of these suits at K1. Speed and terror was her best defense there.”

What Kit was wearing was an older style spec ops camouflage, called Chameleon Skin. It was lightweight, flexible stealth armor, fastened and draped over her large body to render her invisible. Except for her head, which Ethan would cover for her before they made their exit. The hoodie of the suit, fashioned by Joe Longstreet, was modified for ripper use while they were in transit to Poldark. The ghillie style suits were seldom used by speck ops now, not since they had received superior form fitting hard suits, with better stealth.

Their recent experience on K1, with several wounded or grazed cats proved that sheer speed and agility wasn’t always enough when there were too many Krall for them to distract, using typical ripper cunning and stalking methods. The suit’s flexible small flat links of metal and ceramic fabric had once been called Dragon Skin. When the design incorporated powered stealth coatings, the name changed.

The suits were designed for easy field repair or modification, so that panels of the suits could be replaced, or in the case of the larger ripper bodies, more of them added around the edges to cover their huge frames. Without the use of a military visor, or the AI furnished eye implants of spec ops to have an external vison system, a small stealth compromise was made for the hoods. Some links around each eye had been removed. To ensure the eyeholes remained in position, organic adhesives had been placed over the brows and top of cat’s heads, to make the hoods adhere with the peep holes fixed firmly in place. The cats didn’t like having their ears constantly pressed down, but they certainly weren’t deafened because sound passed through the loose overlapping links.

Besides, as they informed their spec ops instructors by frilling them, in their natural low belly crawl mode of sneaking up on prey, their ears were held pinned back anyway. The slightly curved and flattened battery packs for the suits stealth system was strapped and snugged around the ripper’s abdomen, rather than around a human’s lower back. It left them able to crawl or run unimpeded. With no need to power hand carried weapons, the power pack would last a considerable time for stealth only. There was a radio for them, and ear buds were placed in the hoods near the ears, not inside. The cats couldn’t tolerate the buds when inserted. They discovered ripper hearing was so sensitive that verbal information could be passed to the cats. Unfortunately, all the rippers could send back to their human cohorts were expressive growls or roars. This technology was a work in progress.

The Chamskin, as they had been called by the snipers that sometimes still wore them, could be draped to hang open underneath, rather than enclosing the body when walking upright. This gave the cats the full use of their powerful legs and long retractable claws. But those were only their secondary weapons.

A quick toss of the neck would throw the draped hoodie to the top and back of the head and neck, revealing their primary weapon. Those massive jaws, capable of gaping wide enough to enclose half of a Krall’s thick chest, and exposing the nearly steel hard carbon fiber reinforced fangs, which could puncture and tear through the armored hides of a rhinolo, their normal primary prey.

A Krall’s inbred physiology might not allow them to bleed to death, but having a twelve to fifteen inch diameter hunk of flesh and bone torn out was more than a bit debilitating. Particularly if it included their head, or a disembowelment.

Ethan pulled the hood over and pressed it firmly around the eyeholes to ensure there would be no shifting. He could sense Kit’s eager thoughts through the conductive mesh, and of course, he didn’t have his gauntlets on yet. He reached under the draping material, and made direct contact with her frill. He also felt the neck collar, with the Denial chip attached, similar to the one he had around his own neck. They exchanged hunter’s thoughts of the stalking and action to come, and with their confidence so high, wishing each other good fortune in the coming hunt would seem superfluous. There was more “game” here than they could possibly catch. He activated Kit’s stealth, and as she shimmered nearly out of sight, he verified the draping fully covered her, and that all panels were working. The floating pupils of her two eager blue eyes were all he could see.

As before on K1, the goal today was more like counting coup, as Longstreet had explained, a tradition among brave and ancient warriors on the plains of North America. Disabling clanships, Dragons, weapons dumps, armored transports, lasers and plasma batteries was what they wanted to count here, more than Krall kills. There would be some of those, but they wouldn’t go out of their way to kill in this fight. Ethan and Kit had soured on the thrill of killing members of this genocidal species. It wasn’t what their mother would have wanted of them, to become like their enemy.

Ethan felt the ship rock as it settled to the ground, and Reynolds rose from the pilot seat. “We have old basalt extrusions all around us. I think this hump is an old eroded cinder cone of an extinct volcano. I saw a ring-like range of low hills of an old caldera when we got lower. There isn’t anything up here but rock and low trees and shrubs. When you open the hatch, let’s get out fast and close it behind us. There are seven other singe or four-ships within five miles of us if we need to link up with them, or if we have to help one another.”

Ethan hit the hatch switch and the three of them poured through the opening in two seconds, with Reynolds closing the hatch as he left. In a crouch, Kit rushed to a gap in the rocks where she could scan the area on her chosen third of the terrain. Ethan, his .50 cal rifle, silencer equipped, went to the top of a rock overlooking his third of their surroundings, trusting to his suit and his weapon’s stealth coating to make him invisible.

Reynolds, the same type rifle, did the same on his third share of the terrain, but went to a sharp drop off that gave him the view of his area, as well as a better look at the base of this roughly two hundred foot high hummock. He was surprised, and initially alarmed, to see at least ten sets of blue tinged armor below, surrounded by as many K’Tals in brown tinted armor, and at least what had to be a hundred Krall in basic armor, which made them black suits. There were five grey shaded sets of armor, which meant they were unit commanders of four octets or greater. He first thought they were preparing to direct an assault up the hill at the newly arrived intruders. Then he chastised himself because their stealth was off, which was how he could see the tints of the suits. They were not on the offensive, yet.

He realized they were all looking outward, away from the hill itself, and by gestures knew they were engaged in animated but unheard discussions. They were certainly using suit com systems, and even if he scanned for the frequency, it would be encrypted. He decided they were definitely focused on some issue besides the top of the hill. None of them ever turned a visor up the steep slope on his side. Several more blue suits seemed to appear from the flat rock wall at the base, which he couldn’t see. They gestured and spoke briefly, and turned and walked back the way they came, accompanied by another blue suit, and several K’Tal.

With a thrill, he knew there was an opening into the rocks below him. There had to be a Krall bunker placed under this hill for protection. “Hey Ethan,” he called on Comtap. “I landed us on top of a clan bunker I think.”

“Ah,” Ethan replied in understanding. “That must be why there were so many clanships stationed all around this hill. I see some stockpiles of various supplies under some active camouflage mesh a quarter mile away, some of it looks like rifle cases. From the top, I’ll bet that mesh cover looks like rocks and weeds.”

“Probably so. I have a bunch of higher status blue suits right below me, all of them in full armor, and having animated discussions.” He paused to observe something odd.

“Hold on. I just saw some approaching warriors in blue and plain armor, with helmets off, and they were just waved back by some of the plain armored black suit warriors below me. The newcomers came from the direction of a cluster of clanships you disabled on our way down. They must have dead armor and dead ships. I think they were trying to report this strange problem. The high status leaders below me evidently already know something is wrong, because they ordered the others to stay back from them and the bunker.”

“Sarge, we’re on top of the bull’s-eye of a clan combat center, and they must have just figured out what’s happening to their equipment. If you snipe one of them, you’ll disable all of the suits and plasma rifles within range of the chip.”

“Yes and thereby let them know we’re up here. We’re so far above the bunker and the Krall standing outside that they’re out of range of the Denial chip around our necks.”

Stating the obvious, Ethan said, “If we infect one suit or rifle, we’ll get them all. Take a shot.”

“No. We can get that result without firing a shot, which they could trace back up to us, even if silenced. I’d rather not be chased away from this spot, now that we know we have some big shots almost in our grasp.”

“So what do you want to do? I just told Kit to stay in place, so she doesn’t move down to attack.”

“Do you see any warriors on your side of the hill? How close is the nearest clanship on your side?”

“Just a few plain suit warriors standing near the stockpile I mentioned. The closest four clanships to me are at least a quarter mile away, and I’m sure I got them all on the way down. There’re some more parked almost a mile out, which I also targeted. Even if not hearing my shots, there could have been some impact noise or dust spurts. That could clue them in that there was someone shooting a non-Krall weapon.”

“I was thinking more about what happened on my side. The guards here prevented warriors in armor with rifles from approaching any closer. They’ll have to do that all the way around the hill to protect the bunker. Do you have any loose chips in any of your suit compartments?”

“No, only the one around my neck. That would be the same for Kit, of course.”

“Well, I’m obviously the thinker in this party. I have a handful if the greasy little suckers that I picked up when we were given that bucket full. They’re too light to throw very far, but I have an idea. Open your helmet to outside air, and let’s both sniff around for bush-tails. Even if you’ve never smelled one, I think you be able to locate a burrow or a trail. They scurry around on beaten little tracks. I know what they smell like. It’s a sour musty odor.

“I think they should be plentiful up here, what with the Krall killing them for fun down below. They dig burrows under tree roots, or rock ledges. Get Kit involved. She has the real nose of the group. Frill her and tell her not to hurt them, at least not all of them. One dead one is fine, but we need it fast, and then some live ones.”

Reynolds started his search, as he saw Ethan’s icon move towards where he knew Kit had gone. Her older stealth system didn’t send him a visor icon, but he knew he’d see her ripple against a background when she moved.

Reynolds had just gone down on hands and knees under some low trees, sniffing, when Ethan called. “Kit has a dead one. Found it on the way to her sector. She says the smell is all over the area up here. Now that I smelled this one, I can smell their trails if my nose is close.”

“Dead or alive?”

“Dead and wet. She put a heavy paw on it when it ran in panic from her odor, but it couldn’t see her. She was sorry she didn’t get to play with it for a time, scaring the hell out of it.”

Reynolds nodded to himself and said, “Just like house cat behavior with a mouse. Why wet? Is it all bloody?”

“Nah. She put it in her mouth and sucked on it for the flavor. Reluctantly spit it out for me. Frilled me that it’s the first live prey she’s had in several weeks. Says she can get us more, probably alive, but wants to sample one of them as a snack.”

“Fine. I’m coming over with a chip. How’s your throwing arm?”

“Good I guess. Why?”

“My Left arm was regrown and is stronger than my right, but I can’t throw well lefty.”

“I can throw the same with either hand. Why can’t you?”

“You almost grew up a Kobani, so it seems natural to you. I was in my forties when I was transformed. My brain still thinks I can’t throw the same with both hands, so I can’t.”

“So what?”

“I may not be able to throw that dead bush-tail far enough out. This hill is over a couple of hundred feet high and more than that wide at the base. I want that thing out on the flat ground near the base of the hill.”

“You said the Krall on your side were right below you.”

“I don't want it dropped in their laps, not where they can see it fall.”

“Oh. I told you there weren’t any close on my side and none on Kit’s side either, now that I’ve looked from her spot.”

“Trust me, there will be soon.”

He reached Ethan and Kit, and held out his hand.

The revolting, soggy, half-pound dead rat analogue with a formerly bushy tail smelled bad and looked worse.

He looked at Kit’s eyes, hovering in the air almost at his head height. “You put this smelly hair ball in your mouth? Don’t you dare lick me after any of your hunts, not if this thing tastes good to you.” He heard the chuff sound a ripper makes that passes for a snicker. There was no doubt in Reynolds mind that a particularly unpleasant face lick was in his future.

He pulled out several of the tiny grease laden chips from a small compartment at his suit’s waist. Separating one, he passed several to Ethan to carry, and placed several back in his own compartment.

“I’d thought I’d be feeding one of these to something alive, but I suppose it will go down if I push it in.” He used a finger of his gauntlet to wedge open the toothy jaws of the pointed little mouth, and placed the chip inside. He quickly reached over and broke off a twig from a bush, and used it to push the object farther down the throat.

“OK, kid. You go to a gap in the trees and rocks, and you show me how good your arm is. I want this on the beaten track that I see around the base of the hill, where these idiot warriors walk and tramp down the grass on guard duty, making this hump look occupied.”

He stayed back to reduce any added motion of the foliage, but stood where he could see the ghostly silhouette of Ethan make his throw. The bush-tail in his hand was visible of course, as his arm snapped forward so fast that it made a clearly heard whoosh.

The pitiful dead little delivery animal sailed up and out, in a much longer and higher arc than Reynolds knew he could have produced. In fact, he stepped forward to keep it in sight, and nearly whistled as it finally hit the ground.

“Damn son. You almost overshot the target area. But it’s within fifty feet of that path. That’s close enough. Let’s you and I go back to our watch areas.”

Ethan had less distance to walk, and linked promptly. “There are warriors passing below me right now. Following that path you bitched about them making.”

Reynolds thought of the channel for Kit’s receiver, staying linked with Ethan, and the suit made the connection. “Kit, give us low growl if any Krall passes below you.”

The growls were almost immediate, and the number indicated more than one. “Damn, we got that bush-tail in place just in time.” Ethan sounded excited.

“I’m back above the bunker entrance now, and I see the Krall have thinned out here, apparently making a cordon around the hill to keep anyone from outside well away. Most of the blue suits must have gone back inside, along with the K’Tal I saw. There’s one unit commander still here in front, but the others went around the sides or into the bunker. Let me know as soon as the first Krall gets within a hundred feet of our dead critter.”

“Uh Oh,” Ethan said. “I just saw some launches many miles off in the distance, and laser cannon fire. It appeared to come from another grounded clanship.”

“I see some too,” Reynolds said. “A lot of laser and plasma fire, and a few launches out near the edges of this defensive perimeter. I saw some of the heavy plasma batteries fire too. Over where I know we have a number of our small ships on the ground, everything seems quiet. Those clanships are dead quiet.”

Suddenly, there were missile streaks descending through broken cloud layers. Some intersected with the ships rising on flaming plasma torches, and others vanished in a puff of smoke and a flash as they were intercepted by a laser beam. The incoming missiles were obviously taking preemptive evasive action to make targeting them difficult, and many got through. Even so, there were no explosions when they intersected with a rising clanship, and often the missile track appeared bent as it continued down to the surface. Clearly, those anti-ship missiles had touched their targets. With luck, the missiles came down close to some other target, to infect it with their Denial list.

In fascination, Reynolds watched two clanship plasma trails, after he’d seen missiles deflect after touching them, and their reaction engine thrust continued to lift them. One began a slow tilt away from a vertical climb before entering an obscuring cloud layer, and he knew from observing this on K1, that this clanship was probably going to end with an arc back to the surface. Possibly some hundreds or even thousands of miles away, out of control and the main engine and attitude thrusters locked, accelerating along whatever the last course change had been.

He was so engrossed that he missed seeing what he’d asked Ethan to report. The first Krall had obviously walked close enough to the dead bush-tail’s chip that its weapon and suit was infected, and in an instantaneous daisy chain, passed it around the warriors encircling the hill, back to those directly below him. He saw a Krall below removing his helmet, just as when Ethan announced, “I think they already passed within range. I was watching something else”

“Oh yes. These poor slobs no longer have working plasma rifles, visor input or powered suits. They’ll shed all of those soon. I wonder how many of them carried pistols under their suits? I wouldn’t be surprised if the warriors start using captured human weapons in a few days. Lack of resupply, and no spares, will quickly limit that use. I know Nabarone once asked the PU to make arms that would only respond to a human’s touch, but the Army Ladies in charge said there was no need, because the Krall showed distain for our smaller weapons. They’ll wish they had done that.”

“What do you think we should do now, Sarge? Spread out and disable more weapons and ships?”

“Ethan, we lucked into a good landing zone. I want to figure out how to disable the bunker under this hill, and perhaps capture the clan leader or his flunkies. If the main door was left closed, the keypad won’t allow anyone in or out now. Unless they have a manual method to get the heavy blast doors open, they’re trapped inside. The keypads will work for us, except we don’t know the code. I’m sure some of those below know what that code is, and then we can get inside. I don’t want to have to fight off a horde of them to do that.

“If we catch a live brush-tail, we can force feed it a greasy chip and send it down on the elevator. They started burying these bunkers deeper after the PU used high velocity massive penetrators. The command center will likely be well over a hundred feet down, with at least one long escape tunnel if the main entrance is destroyed. The bunker commander will have computers, power, and communications available. If we knock their power offline, this bunker will be ripe for the picking, and their leaders locked in down there.”

“What if Kit and I draw the guards away, towards that supply dump. We can briefly expose ourselves, or I can, anyway. If they come running I can go stealth and circle back here.”

“OK. Sounds like a plan. But you and Kit stay close for mutual support. I can get to the door if most of them follow you, and if any of us catches a Krall that knows the door code, we can get inside. Now find me a live bush-tail or two for the elevator.”

Forty-five minutes later, half of that time spent trying to catch bush-tails for Reynolds, Ethan pulled the Krall guarding the hill’s perimeter away in a chase. The majority of the angry and frustrated Krall around the base of the hill had streamed off after Ethan, when he deactivated stealth and killed a warrior with a single punch through, not just to his helmetless head, and then ran away.

Enroute, they quickly noticed the huge paw prints Kip deliberately left in dusty places along Ethan’s back trail, but they didn’t see the creature that left them. None of these lower status young black suits had ever been to Koban, and there were no large cat-like predators on Poldark. The tracks were therefore a curiosity, and not the big red flag they should have been. Some of them were about to become kitty litter.

Only about two thirds of those pursuing the armored figure, which they’d briefly seen yet again standing casually at their supply dump, carried backup pistols with them. The figure had selected a plasma rifle from an open case, switched it on as they fired at him while they charged toward him, and he used it to kill the two leading warriors, before laying it down on the rifle case and switching on stealth.

Aside from pissing off the pursuers more, it encouraged them to get to the obviously operational rifles. That had been exactly why Ethan had used one of their weapons, rather than the more effective multiple beam weapons of his suit. He wanted to give more of them a reason to leave the bunker area to obtain what they thought would be working weapons.

Their disappointment, when the weapons failed to activate for them, was instantly forgotten when a gigantic blue-green animal’s head, suddenly floating over the top of a nearby stack of weapon cases, lunged down into their midst, ripping and tearing at warriors that had removed their armor. There were flashes of huge blue colored clawed paws, which appeared out of the rippling and nearly invisible shape attacking them.

The disembodied huge teal colored head, poised above a dying warrior who’d had his chest ripped open, suddenly pointed its fearsome muzzle to the sky, opened its bloodied fanged jaws and issued a blasting roar of challenge. That pure animal sound nearly congealed the blood of those not even touched by this impossibly fast and powerful beast.

When it lowered its head and focused its fierce and intensely blue eyes directly at two nearby armed warriors, their own red pupils, centered in black onyx-like orbs, widened in terror and they turned and ran, weapons unfired.

Never having seen any Krall react this way, Ethan was astounded. When Kit ducked her head sharply and the hood flew back forward over her bloody muzzle, she shook her head to orient the eyeholes, and she effectively vanished for any Krall that glanced back. She looked where Ethan stood, and he could see the same intense blue glow of the eyes of a natural killer, which had just terrified those warriors into fleeing for their lives.

It was chilling, even to a young man who had grown up with this lovable big “kitty.” He’d not appreciated how rippers affected the Krall at some base level of their psyche. She brought out a primitive instinct from their far distant past, before they guided their own evolution, back when they feared being killed and eaten alive by something larger and more powerful than they were. There probably had been large predators they feared on their original home world, long before they mastered weapon making, and learned group cooperation.

It explained how usually fearless warriors, willing to face certain death in a battle against overwhelming numbers of humans, could suddenly turn and run in near panic when a creature they had never even seen before, preyed on them. Ethan was very envious of his sister. The Krall would chase him and run from her, and he was actually the more dangerous of the two. At least when I’m armed, he thought.

The dying Krall that Kit stood over was the next thing Ethan found of interest, after his admiring thoughts of his ripper sibling. He pulled off a gauntlet and grasped a quivering hand. Instead of speaking aloud, he sent mental words in high Krall, with images of a standard door keypad. “What is the door code to enter the bunker?”

The Krall was startled and in shock, and knew it was dying. The warrior wondered if this was the beast speaking to her. Ethan used its gender and desire for breeding rights to get its attention focused. “If your clan wanted to save your unfertilized eggs to preserve your bloodline, how would they carry you down into the bunker? What is the door code?”

She thought of the eight-digit code, which Ethan automatically remembered, including the pattern of keys to press. However, there was a longer and different code, which she did not know, to summon and operate the elevator. Her mind faded as her second heart, next to the gaping chest hole, quit its beating, and he let her hand drop.

Calling Reynolds, he also activated the radio channel to Kit, so she could hear what was said. “Sarge, use voice reply for Kit. I have the outer door code, but my source didn’t know the other code to run the elevator. Here’s the code she knew.” He sent the mental image of a keypad and the Krall number script as the keys flashed. Some numbers were used twice.

“Got it…” there was a pause. “All right! The front door is opening…, oops...” A longer pause, before he resumed.

“Had a blue suit trapped just inside, waiting for me. From a Mind Tap I discovered he couldn’t get back outside, or call for the elevator. The three black suits guarding the outer doors all sort of died, unexpectedly. They didn’t all chase after your butt, and these three had those Krall grenades they started making, after we showed them how effective they were in an assault.”

“Sort of died?” Ethan inquired.

“They inadvertently blew their own asses off after I winged them in their wrists or hands before they could throw the grenades. I foolishly jumped down from a ledge above them and kicked up some dust, which they saw immediately. I’d intended to take at least one of them alive for a Mind Tap. Their pistol bullets were no threat, but those big grenades have heavy uranium pellets like ours do, and they can penetrate helmet armor or joints. I had to shoot first and get flat fast.

“After that, there wasn’t any info to get out of three piles of shredded meat. I thought I was going to be stuck outside before you called. I just got the second code from blue suit I found, and I’m calling up the elevator. Why don’t you hurry over and join me?”

When they raced to join up with Reynolds, there were now five dead black suited warriors in front, a blue suit by the blast doors, and another dead brown suit just outside the elevator.

“Took you long enough.” He said. “Had two visitors come calling, and a K’Tal was apparently stuck inside the lift, unable to send it down or open the door. There’s a lot of company coming our way now.” He gestured.

From the direction where the previous Krall had been turned back, there were now hundreds running their way. They had shed their useless armor, but were flourishing pistols and more grenades, or in some cases short swords if they didn’t have anything else.

Reynolds summed it up. “We can run the hell away using our stealth, before they close with us and see our foot prints form and the crowd stumbles into us. The alternative is to take an elevator ride.” He sounded calm enough, having faced hordes before, but those times he’d had more shooters with him, and more options. He wanted to hear what Ethan thought.

Ethan looked at the pack of warriors, closing in on a broad front, barely more than a half-mile away. The trio was invisible to them for now, so there was no wasted shooting, and only Krall screams of rage were being aimed in their general direction.

The young man shrugged, invisibly so because of stealth. “Too many of them to stand and fight, and if there are others coming around from the sides where we can’t see, avoiding them might be impossible. Why did they turn back after being ordered away earlier?”

Reynolds repeated the invisible shrug. “The shutdown of equipment reached the hill side and front door anyway, so I suspect the clan leader down in the bunker has cameras that can see this front door area, even if it doesn’t show us. The bodies falling everywhere, grenades exploding, and blast doors opening are really great clues for him that someone is here that isn’t a Krall. They do have radio communications. I’d say he called for all of the reinforcements. You better decide son.”

“Crap, Sarge. You already decided, and asking me that while they closed the gap was you testing me. I saw them coming when we arrived, and there was only one place left to go. I’ll bet Kit even knows, and she didn’t have to frill that blue suit you left alive about the elevator.”

Kit, listening to their words, and occasionally looking out at the stampede coming their way, had casually stepped inside the entry way, demonstrating she was waiting for her human pride members to arrive at the only decision possible. Get inside the outer entry with its limited frontal access. She wasn’t sure if they could close the outer door against the onslaught or operate the elevator, but fighting where the rhinolo couldn’t flank or get behind to trample you seemed to be an obvious strategy.

The first shots rang out at a quarter mile, when the massive double doors started sliding together. It was apparent then where the invisible enemy must be located. That enemy wasn’t dumb enough to be standing in the center of the elevator foyer, so the slugs all struck the back rock wall of ancient basalt, throwing chips everywhere, which rattled off the armor and Chameleon Skin, and into the open elevator compartment to the right. Then the doors closed, and the overhead lights furnished the slightly red tinged light that was the Krall’s preferred spectrum.

Reynolds, pulled a live bush-tail from where it had been shoved, kicking, scratching, and biting at the armored fingers, from inside the empty grenade compartment. It was squeaking loudly in twisting protest now, held by its brush of a tail. “I think the front doors will hold for a time, so perhaps we could send our fearsome little friend down first?”

Kit was puzzled now, since she was unaware of the purpose of the feisty little morsel. Ethan asked, “Do we have that much time Sarge? It has to drop at least a hundred feet and return for us.” He was thinking of the elevator round trip time of course.

“Per the blue suit, it’s about two hundred feet down, as measured in Krall body lengths.” He indicated the broken backed, one eye missing blue suited sub leader, leaned against a sidewall and safe from the previous bullets.

That Krall periodically clawed at where he thought they were, and he could faintly hear Standard spoken. The latter was spoken by the two men over radio for the benefit of Kit, and the cat’s ear buds leaked some sound that the Krall could detect. He swung again at the sound and raked talons along a section of Chameleon Skin. Kit’s rumbling deep growl caused the Krall to instantly draw back his hand, as his eyes darted around, seeking the source of the fearful sound.

“That’s twice as far as I was estimating Sarge. Perhaps we better go down with it now.”

“Well, this is a Krall elevator, and it works like those in the domes. The door whisks open, it whooshes up and down from the top, and travels fast. It’ll drop fast enough to scare you then slow quickly near the bottom.”

There was hard thumping and scratching heard at the front doors. The pack had arrived.

Ethan had a sudden thought. “Sarge, the Krall have explosives and detonators that are not quantum keypad operated. They might have some of that with them, and they don’t have many other weapon options now.”

“Right you are. I didn’t think of that. Drag the dead K’Tal along and I’ll grab blue suit. Let’s all get in the elevator. We can use them as shields when we get down. I can close the elevator door without selecting a floor, to give us a moment to plan.”

The elevator was roomy for humans, since it could hold more than two octets of armored warriors. They placed the two Krall across the center of the door opening just inside. Reynolds tapped into a circular slot at the top and the door practically slammed down to close. It was actually cushioned in some fashion just before it bottomed out, but the movement seemed ridiculously fast and dangerous to a human.

Reynolds took a moment to think and dredged up an old pre Kobani transformation memory. “I was in one of these command bunkers when I was first captured on Poldark. They’re about two hundred feet long and over a hundred feet wide, and some have three levels, as the Gatlek’s bunker did where I was held. The Denial chips will act fast on any Olt’kitapi quantum coded control device within a hundred twenty feet of the bottom of the elevator shaft. Anyway, the Krall might cluster as far from the elevator as possible to preserve use of their plasma rifles, provided they’ve figured out the short range of the effect. There’s also a timed self-destruct system if they have to abandon a bunker. Fortunately, that device is coded and located in the bunker at the commander’s control console, only about fifty feet from the main entrance, which is where this elevator shaft goes. That would be well within range of the chip’s fifth force effect, passing through soil and rocks as we near the bottom.”

Ethan looked over the heavy door and around its top and sides. “So our initial risk is when the doors first open. If the Krall down there are backed against the far wall, barricaded and ready to fire, their weapons and armor will be out of range of our chips and even from that chips of the command console, only fifty feet from the elevator. Even if they can’t see us when the door flies up, they can’t miss.”

Ethan was looking all around, but there was where to take cover besides behind the two Krall, because the door was nearly as wide as the compartment. He asked a question. “The door goes up the instant we arrive?”

“I told you. Just like in the domes. You can close it and not move the lift, but when you arrive, it automatically opens and stays that way until you deliberately close the door as I just did. I’m sure they will focus fire towards that control panel to keep us from reclosing the door.”

“Just like in the domes.” Ethan repeated in a distracted tone, thinking. “Give me a moment and then we can go.”

“Don’t take long. They may be setting explosive outside the front doors.”

“Carson and I did this when we were six. Stand in the front left corner and bend over so I can mount you.”

“What? That sounds kind of dirty.”

Ethan explained, and thirty seconds later as he jumped down from Sarge’s back, he said, “Let’s stack these Krall on one another. They aren’t much against plasma fire but we won’t need much. Select the floor level and jump towards Kit and me. We’ll grab you. Hand me the bush-tail.”

Reynolds leaned towards the panel and muttered, “I didn’t notice before, but there’s three levels here. This may be a larger clan than I thought. The bunker commander’s console will occupy the center level.” He inserted a finger in the center slot, and faster than the elevator could start to drop, he leaped back and grabbed Ethan’s hand just as the floor of the elevator practically fell out from under them.

****

Gatlek Fistok was alerted quickly in his bunker when hundreds of clanships executed White Outs over the continent where his invasion forces held over eighty percent control. It had been ninety percent in his control, before the partial force withdrawal ordered by now dead Tor Gatrol Kanpardi. The humans had taken advantage of knowing the transfer of forces was about to happen, and had orchestrated a strong counter attack afterwards, to recover territory they initially yielded with little resistance.

Fistok had been appointed as the new Gatlek from a midsized clan, the Hakdo, a longtime supporter of Kanpardi and his Graka clan. This command was a just reward for that loyalty, but it came at a price of slight status loss, shortly after the transfer of control.

The heavy counter attack pushed back his newly acquired forces from the just acquired territory. That counter attack followed a massive Krall assault that gained that territory, which by design was done to hide the sudden withdrawal they had expected to be a complete surprise to the human military. The departing Gatlek, Pendor of Mordo clan, didn’t properly support the forces he was leaving behind for his successor, Fistok. The departing Gatlek was only concerned with taking enough material with him to support the New Dublin invasion he would next conduct.

Later, Telour, appointed Tor Gatrol after Kanpardi’s death, had experienced his own series of setbacks. Recently however, he had increased the rate of delivery of replacement equipment from K1 to Poldark and New Dublin, since the third invasion was delayed indefinitely. One surprisingly large shipment had arrived at Poldark on nearly a hundred clanships, loaded with arms and supplies. Even so, this was but a fraction of the material removed by Pendor, and Fistok had requested much more. His first thought today, and that of his staff, was this was four times as much material as with the previous delivery. It seemed to be good news.

This was despite a bizarre claim by a single clanship pilot, who had arrived a half day earlier, reporting that the humans had again attacked K1, with just over a hundred ships, and was winning the battle. Outnumbered eighteen to one, or a bit more, by the Krall fleet still at K1, this was a wild and unbelievable assertion. This pilot, Phordot was her name, said the attackers were somehow shutting down any clanship they attacked, without blowing them up. What warrior would spare the warships of their opponent if they rendered them helpless to fight back?

Making her story less reasonable was her assertion that she had escaped from human captivity, and had stolen the damaged ship on which she arrived. Why was this isolated clanship supposedly immune to the claimed new human technology? It was also a clanship conveniently loaded with small arms, and power packs. Exactly the type of material Fistok’s arms master said this same clan’s pilot had delivered from K1, five hands of days ago. She had requested to remain on Poldark on her last trip he said, to participate in the assaults she knew were being planned. Instead, her own clan sub leader on Poldark had ordered her back to K1.

She seemed more like a frustrated warrior who wished to stay on Poldark and fight. If her clan leaders found that she had made up her story, and lied to remain on Poldark, she would be subject to a Death challenge from within her own clan.

When the mass White Out was reported of many clanship signatures, there was no reason to believe they were not carrying supplies sent by Telour, mostly because of the high numbers of the arrivals. The humans only possessed close to a hundred clanships at last report, even if you accepted Photok’s claim of slightly more now. None of these clanships were displaying the modified human stealth capability, which had been applied to their other stolen clanships. For those reasons, there was no urgent order issued to launch all of the clanships sitting on Poldark. Some of Fistok’s clanships were to be sent aloft, as a matter of defending the arrivals from the navy squadron that might possibly attempt to destroy heavily loaded and thus slower supply craft.

Soon, seemingly unrelated reports arrived within after two hands of minutes, all from ground forces, about malfunctions of numerous rifles and sets of armor, then of inoperative mini-tanks and armored transports. All of this equipment was located far from any active front, and not at risk of enemy action. It was unexplainable, but Fistok decided this new problem didn’t expose his forces to a sudden attack deep inside the territory they controlled.

When a number of clanships he’d ordered aloft to guard and escort the supply ships down reported they were unable to launch, and the Krall commander in charge of the new arrivals had not communicated with his command bunker and didn’t reply to hails, his attitude dramatically changed. He had an alert broadcast to launch every clanship, and for every clan to safeguard their stocks of weapons and equipment, and prepare for a human assault. He ordered the circle of heavy plasma cannons to be ready to fire on the clanships over the continent if they displayed hostility.

The sub leader in command of the batteries had a question for Fistok. “How do I decide who the hostile force is if you send all of our clanships aloft to mix with them? If anyone fires beams or missiles, they will look hostile to our gunners. The smaller human squadron has just appeared farther out, well above the new arrivals, and their radar emissions show they are tracking and capable of attacking any of the clanships below them. I can fire on the heavy cruisers, and be sure they are the enemy, but at that long range they are at little risk of serious damage.”

In a frustrated snarl, Fistok told him, “Anything that fires at rising clanships or at the surface is also an enemy. Shoot at them.” He disconnected. He’d never heard of a battlefront where determining who the enemy was being so uncertain.

An avalanche of other strange reports arrived soon to his communications staff, from clan leaders in their bunkers, of events entirely within the most tightly defended center of the continent. There were sporadic attacks reported on warriors, clanships that couldn’t be entered or exited, because the doors were locked, or would not respond. More cases of body armor becoming inoperative, heavy transports that would not start, or in motion crashed because they could not be steered or stopped. Strangest of all, a number of just launched clanships had pilots, who had reported to their clan bunkers, that their craft had suddenly become uncontrollable.

One pilot reported that shortly after liftoff she had been fired upon by an anti-ship missile from one of the clanships she was rising to defend from the human cruiser squadron. The unusually fast and agile missile had evaded her weapons master’s laser fire and had struck them at midship, but it had failed to detonate. It was apparently disarmed by the warrior that fired it in error, although Krall don’t make such firing mistakes. It was thought to be an equipment failure of the missile, or in guidance and tracking.

Despite the lack of an explosion, the missile that glanced off the hull had somehow damaged their flight controls, because the pilot couldn’t change course or adjust thrust. Her weapons master was unable to return fire or even to target the clanship that had fired on them. They were passing through the newly arrived clanship fleet, on a trajectory towards the enemy cruisers, which inexplicably, so far, had also held their fire.

Clanship commanders from Fistok’s clan, of the craft he kept parked around his bunker for a fast reaction mobile defense, were claiming their vessels, in a brief period, had gradually become unresponsive, forming a ring of deactivated clanships completely around the bunker. It clearly had not happened all at once, because the communications network linking the craft had remained intact, and the pilots had exchanged reports as the problem spread.

Finally, the odd allegations by Photok began to sound more credible. He didn’t know where she was to ask her any follow up questions. Her clan sub leader on Poldark had relieved her of command of the ship she’d landed here.

Much of the supplies that clanship had brought were enroute to various clans on the two fronts where Fistok intended to renew assaults. Because Pendor had removed so many mini-tanks, single ships, and mobile laser carts, the new attacks would have to depend more heavily on warriors on foot. That necessitated them having ample replacement rifles and spare power packs stored nearby. Each of the portable fusion power charging stations sent with the supplies could accommodate sixteen depleted power packs at once, but it took nearly an hour to recharge the energy dense batteries to full power.

Warriors, in the fury of battle, could drain them of their power in as few as a hundred twenty eight firings, if they employed rapid-fire maximum energy plasma bolts for every shot. They always carried at least four spare power packs on equipment belts, but needed more fresh ones brought forward, along with the recharging stations, as they advanced.

It was while thinking of the resupply convoys, traveling north and east from where Photok had landed her ship, that helped the Gatlek plot the areas where the loss of equipment control was spreading the most rapidly. Using his mental battlespace map and arriving reports, he saw a pattern. Photok had landed about two miles east of the Gatlek’s bunker instead of near her clan’s bunker, far to the southeast. She claimed it was because she had wanted to convey her warning quickly and directly to the Gatlek.

There were two lengthening tentacles of reported equipment failures, one was shorter and stretched north, and a longer one that extended east, both radiating from near his bunker. Each affected corridor narrowed and twisted with the mountainous terrain where the arms passed through, which meant the affected areas followed the roads, where the supplies were moving. There was also a small, roughly two-mile wide circle surrounding this bunker of disabled clanships, with hundreds of other similar diameter regions about that same size, sprinkled all around the continent.

The pattern looked almost organic, like some widespread infection that only involved hardware. This was similar to what Photok described, but her description was in less detail due to her limited knowledge of events all around K1. He acted immediately to try to stop the contagion’s spread to the fronts where they faced the main enemy forces, and to keep it from reaching the heart of the invasion force. His command bunker.

The local problem surrounded the area near the hill above the buried bunker. He checked his personal plasma rifle, and it powered up when he activated the standby mode. It had not reached down here.

Communications were not affected anywhere, because even clanships that had lost flight control were able to use their radios. Commanders located above, in the ring beyond the hill, had made com set calls to report failed armor and clanships out there. That meant this new human weapon, which is what it must be, had not penetrated down here. Therefore, it wasn’t a wide area type weapon, because it started small, and spread slowly for a central point, apparently having a short range for the infection.

Except two fingers of the infection was tracing narrow corridors where the infected supplies were moving. They had been moving continuously for almost eighteen hours, with the trucks moving that entire time. Fusion powered vehicles, driven by warriors that never required rest, meant the small arms spreading the infection had almost reached their Novi Sad destination, to the east.

He wondered about the shorter tentacle of the northbound route to Kovoso. He was unaware that the heavy armored transports were involved there, and when the Denial chips were activated, the transportation of the small arms stopped when the transports would no longer respond to control. The heavy transports had been sent north because the roads were better and straighter in that direction. To the east, higher mountains and curved and twisting roads were navigated better by smaller trucks, which didn’t use quantum-controlled circuits to activate.

He issued orders that the supply trucks were to be halted, to both the north and east, and none of the small arms unloaded or moved. Analyzing this as a combat situation, where new enemy weapons had an unknown but short range, he needed information. He instructed warriors with operational plasma rifles to approach some of the supply trucks, and inform their sub leaders, who would stay back, when or if their plasma rifles, suits, or power packs deactivated.

The bad news arrived quickly. At about ten leaps, any rifle, suit, or power pack deactivated all at the same time, as they neared a truck. They would not reactivate if moved farther back afterwards. That later information was learned the hard way, when a sub leader summoned a warrior to him to examine the failed equipment for himself. His suit and weapon powered down when the returning warrior came within ten leaps. Once infected, the equipment became new sources for the infection. Isolation or quarantine of the affected equipment was required. It wasn’t transmitted by a warrior with only a pistol, because that was tested as well.

With a bit more foresight, Fistok might have made the intuitive leap of wondering why humans could still fly Krall clanships that had been infected. After all, some of those craft in orbit must have been captured at K1 after being infected. The humans had started their attack with far fewer craft than the four hundred here. From that, he might have reasoned out that it was only the Olt’kitapi quantum coded devices affected, and if the devices responded to humans after infection, then it must have something to do with the tattoos that were the keys to activating such devices. He could have deduced that only the Krall were being denied use of Olt’kitapi designed equipment.

It probably wouldn’t have helped him to know how the infection spread, if all you could do was slow the spread, and couldn’t cure infected equipment. Fistok did his best.

“Cordon off the hill above with warriors, with orders to keep sub leaders and warriors from an infected area from approaching within fifty leaps of this bunker. Inform the clan leaders in other bunkers of this strategy, and of why it’s needed. We can preserve much of our weaponry if we halt the spread of the problem, particularly along the fronts where we face the enemy directly. I want K’Tals to investigate and learn how this electronic interference works and how to counter and reverse its effect.”

He hadn’t yet considered how the original infections had been delivered, because none of the “carriers” had been seen. Apparently, those who did see the invaders had all failed to live to report the event.

He ordered feeds of all surface surveillance cameras at the bunker entrance sent to his command console. He watched as the cluster of warriors spread out to surround the base of the hill, and he recalled most of his sub leaders and K’Tals to brief them directly. When a group of sub leaders and warriors, obviously wishing to demonstrate their failed equipment had approached, his guards ordered them to keep their distance and they turned back. He wanted to confer with his aides and other clan sub leaders to devise a broader strategy, and a simple explanation for the warriors, and quarantine procedures for infected material.

Once warned of the risks, he believed his warriors could avoid spreading the problem, and if they went on the offensive, they would make the enemy pay for using such a short-range weapon that left a fighting warrior alive, to improvise and still kill the enemy. Improved abstract thinking had not (yet) been bred into the new generations of Krall. The newer hatchlings were proving to be more innovative and adaptable, but better thinkers took much more time if you only relied on selective breeding and sheer numbers of hatchlings. The Krall were running out of that sort of time.

When Fistok saw his guardians of the bunker entrance suddenly removing their helmets and checking their rifles, he knew the software infection had reached them. At about the same time, there were numerous descending anti-ship missiles, some of which reached their targets or passed close to a clanship launching, and there were no explosions. These missiles were fired from the new arrivals, making it abundantly clear they were human controlled. The inability of the pilots and weapon masters to maneuver or fire back, was demonstration enough as to how the short-range software weapon was being extended by the enemy.

If the software virus was being spread by missiles, how had the initial areas become infected? How had his warriors guarding the bunker, keeping it in quarantine, come under its influence? There was another mode of infection, which he wasn’t seeing.

Then he did see something. Or rather, evidence of what he was not seeing. On camera, he saw puffs of dust, near where three of his door guardians had shed their armor to get to their pistols and grenades, which many warriors carried as personal weapons. When brilliant red laser beams and actinic blue-white plasma bolts speared into the wrists and hands of the warriors, it came from a point above where the dust had been kicked up.

In the instant before the dropped grenades exploded in multiple flashes, a longer puff of dust spurted, when a stealthed human in armor had obviously dropped to avoid the fragments. The guards were not so lucky, since they had set timers for very short delays, and having their hands just burned off slowed their reaction time, as they started to dive away from the impending blasts at their feet. They were left mangled and dead.

A sub leader was inside the blast doors, and had heard the explosions. He was trying to key the thick blast doors to open without success, and a K’Tal inside the elevator was likewise unable to operate or open its doors. It was a K’Tal’s sent to investigate the equipment failures. Fistok was glad they couldn’t open the blast doors or operate the elevator to send it back down. Clearly, those were both now infused with the software glitch that denied any Krall the use of that equipment. He didn’t want that elevator to descend and pass the infection into the bunker.

He started issuing orders to move any weapons or body armor to the far wall, away from the elevator shaft. It was possible the enemy would be able to blast their way into the elevator shaft and try to infiltrate by that route. Judging the distance from the underground entry, he knew it was just over sixteen leaps from the back wall to the elevator exit, and the range of the infection was about ten leaps. They would retain use of their plasma weapons if the infected elevator were to descend with the short-range virus in its circuits. He ordered barricades erected for their cover near the back wall, where the twenty-two warriors in the bunker could incinerate anything that was behind the elevator door when it swept open.

He couldn’t be certain if the level where it stopped would be where the command console was placed, although that was the most probable stop. Therefore, he sent five warriors up a level, and five to the lower level, with twelve on this level to fire the instant the door sprang up. There was nowhere to take cover in the elevator compartment, and even stealthed, a heavy stream of plasma bolts would kill anything inside, seen or not.

He watched with resignation as he witnessed the keypad outside the blast doors being depressed. It was a simple code of eight digits, but there was only one attempt to gain entrance, and impossibly, it worked the first time. The sub leader inside had been warned to be ready, but when he leaped through the opening doors, pistol in hand, he was slammed powerfully against the door frame, where his back seemed to fold at an impossible angle. His gun flew from his hand from some unseen blow, and his body fell to the floor, obviously paralyzed from the waist down. That was a recoverable injury, but Fistok doubted he’d be granted the months to live for that to happen.

He had already ordered one of his underlings to call for every warrior within proximity of the bunker to rush to its defense. When the blast door stood open for a time, he hoped the invisible intruder had decided not to try to descend. In fact, two other warriors arrived around the side of the hillside, but they were dispatched efficiently by laser beams to their exposed heads before they could fire a shot. The beams originated from near the floor, next to the sub leader. Astonishingly, there was an exposed human hand grasping a finger of the sub leader, who struggled ineffectively to pull his hand away.

The human hand released the finger, and abruptly vanished as stealth was restored for the appendage. Fistok tensed, and issued a warning to his warriors as he prepared to retreat to the far wall, where his plasma rifle was safely placed out of range of the entry door. On the video screen, the keys on the wall panel beside the elevator illuminated as they were being pressed. He sent a com set message to the K’Tal trapped inside, warning him to be ready.

The door whipped up, as it did on all standard elevators, and the K’Tal was instantly shot and killed. Fistok expected the elevator to descend, so he prepared for that and backed away from the monitor, picking up his weapon. However, he saw more dust spurts created in front of the blast doors, but nothing was happening in the elevator. In the distance, the camera and microphone registered the sight and sound of the stampede of raging screaming warriors, running at top speed toward the bunker door, stretching in a front as wide as the camera could detect.

Shortly after that, he saw the body of the still living sub leader pulled into the elevator with the dead K’Tal, immediately after the blast doors were closed. The mass of berserk warriors slammed into the outer doors, as the elevator door came down. There was a slight delay, before the invisible occupants of the elevator placed the bodies of the two Krall in a stack against the inside of the door. They were apparently intended to provide shelter for what he assumed to be two or three humans in the elevator, when the door whipped up as it arrived at the bunker level. Fistok raced to a position behind the barricade, as the other two levels were also warned that the elevator was about to descend.

Tough as they were physically, the two Krall bodies wouldn’t last more than a few seconds under concentrated plasma bolt fire, which was about to turn them into fly ash and scorched meat. Too bad the wounded sub leader had to die this way, but it was an honorable combat death. The increasing pitch of air whistling around the sides of the dropping elevator car told the waiting ambushers that their prey was on the way.

The pneumatic sounds of the braking system told them the car was slowing its drop, and exactly when it stopped, the heavy door would whip up to expose the entire interior. Invisible or not, behind flesh shields or not, they were doomed. It was justice that the two Krall being used as shields were not wearing their body armor. Humans, having disabled the armor with their software virus, caused the warriors to discard the suits. That armor would have given them perhaps two minutes of survival time, and a chance to shoot back.

As the car halted, the exact instant the door started its rise, twelve plasma rifles simultaneously fired their bolts, directed under the narrow opening as it appeared, and promptly fired their next volley six inches higher, just to maintain a continuous and high rate of fire as the opening enlarged.

The second volley unexpectedly splattered its bolts on the base of the metal door, and something black shot out from under the left side gap, vanishing behind a long console of combat and communication stations that formed one side of a wide pathway leading away from the elevator. Fistok, his eyes dazzled by the bolts and from the flash of those that had splattered into starbursts of star hot particles, thought it might have been a grenade. It was a reasonable assumption, but wrong, and not his greatest concern anyway, because a grenade exploding behind that sturdy console represented no threat to them. His concern was reserved for the stunned recognition that the door was not opening, at least not beyond the initial four inches, where it clanged loudly to a halt. They resumed firing at the gap that was available, but they had to fire over their barricade and down at the base of the door, preventing them from seeing what was farther back in the elevator compartment.

Two sub leaders, without hesitation, threw themselves over the barrier to land prone and completely exposed, and started firing under the base of the door. One of them shouted, over the cracking sounds of the dozens of bolts traveling down the wide corridor, that he could see the smoking ruin of the bodies of the two Krall. Bolts deflecting from the floor were striking them, but the two warriors firing from floor level could hit them directly.

One yelled back, “My Gatlek, the enemy must be standing on the bodies of our warriors, but they will lose that elevation when the corpses disintegrate.”

Fistok issued an order to eliminate the meat platform faster, just behind the somehow blocked door. “Shoot near the center, to burn away their support sooner.”

As all twelve rifle’s bolts concentrated towards the center third of the gap, another dark object flew out from under the bottom right side of the elevator door this time. It too slid behind a console, on the other side of the passage.

Fistok realized there had been no explosion from the first presumed grenade, and his eyes had better adjusted to the intensity of the plasma bolts this time. The dark object didn’t look like a grenade. It was longer and more irregular shaped, and all of the newer grenades used by the PU army were silvery colored.

He was about to order two warriors to move, one left and the other right, to look down the backside aisles of the two long rows of consoles, when a frighteningly loud roar of a large animal’s challenge was heard from under the elevator door’s four-inch gap, reverberating and echoing within the sealed bunker.

“What in a demon’s nightmare is behind that door?” One of the black suited warriors asked nervously, of no one in particular.

The firing paused almost a second, while the nerve jangling raw sound poured from under the elevator door. Just before the beast’s challenge started to lower in intensity, there were bursts of red and green laser fire, and blue flashes of plasma bolts from under each side of the elevator door.

They instantly fired back at both sides now, with the two warriors on the floor still firing at the burning wrecks of the dead Krall bodies. Those bodies were already cut into smoking pieces, where the limbs had separated. Fistok didn’t understand how the return fire was so badly aimed. Humans didn’t display the skill of a Krall in combat, but none of those shots even traveled down the wide passage between the combat consoles towards their attackers. The two sub leaders on the floor in front of the barricade were completely exposed. Even poorly aimed shots could have struck them, or at least come close. Instead, they were angled off to the left and right sides, directed at upward angles that struck the ceiling close to the elevator, above the consoles.

To the left and right, again, he thought. He had a premonition.

“Toldrak, go left and see what is behind the consoles near the elevator. Kertda, check on the right side.”

Both warriors moved the instant they heard his orders, at the same moment that Fistok, who was firing bolts under the elevator door, saw that the flickering light from a large video display at his commander’s console had suddenly stopped flickering. The screen he noticed was one he’d placed in an alternating display of the view from eight external cameras, placed around the bunker entrance, two of them inside the entrance and the rest were outside cameras. The alternating views had quit alternating. The light from the display was steady. From his shallow angle, so far down at the end of the bunker, he couldn’t see the screen images, but they were no longer following the sequence he’d set for that surveillance system.

He called to Kertda, “What do you see on the right?”

“Debris that fell from the ceiling when their beams struck.” Then in an excited tone. “Something black is moving behind the row of workstations. It could be a spy bot.

“Shoot it!”

He instantly raised his rifle and fired off a snap shot.

“My Gatlek, the way it flew apart and burned, I think it was one of those pests we see all around this area. It was alive and not mechanical.”

Fistok knew Kertda well, because he was from his own Hakdo clan, and he had called to him first because of that instinctive sense of connection. Toldrak was from Maldo, a small finger clan that was left behind on Poldark by Gatlek Pendor when the Great and Major clans left with him. Even if allied now with Hakdo clan because of Pendor’s action, Fistok naturally relied more heavily upon his own clan mates.

That generally wise choice, to place your greatest trust in one of your own clan mate’s word and observations, led him to speak first to the second warrior he’d ordered away from the elevator firing line.

“Toldrak, is there a small animal on your side?”

“A local rodent is running this way; it came out from under one of the consoles.”

“Kill it!”

Serious outcomes often depend on small decisions. The Maldo warrior instantly raised his rifle and squeezed the trigger button. Instantly, the Gatlek knew he should have spoken to Toldrak first. The left side was where the first bush-tail had been thrown.

Toldrak looked puzzled when his rifle failed to fire, and Fistok, with both his hearts trying to climb into his throat, instantly noticed that the steady stream of firing at the elevator had fallen silent.

****

“Okey-dokey,” Reynolds said when the firing under the door stopped. “Let’s get down, and when I close the door, you pull the locking rod back.”

The two men and the ripper, precariously gripping the narrow metal reinforcing ribs on the backside of the door, let go and dropped to the floor, which was covered in smoking cauterized remains of two very dead Krall. Pressing the button to reclose the door, it settled four inches and sealed them off from potential pistol fire. Which was less risky for their armor, but better if avoided.

“Bend over Sarge.”

“Right.” He went into a crouch, knees slightly bent, hands on his knees so Ethan could jump up and stand high enough to reach the small access panel in the ceiling. It easily slid open, and he reached inside and pulled on the handle of the inch thick steel rod. The rod had prevented the door from opening all the way, but its normal function was to hold up a fully opened door, preventing it from accidentally closing during routine maintenance.

“How did you know about that locking rod and that it would do that? I’ve been in dome elevators of course, but I stopped using them after I had my Kobani mods. Most Kobani do and I know you avoid them.”

“Sarge, you got your mods soon after you reached Koban. I had seventeen years of growing up in a dome, as practically a Normal with only clone mods. People used the elevators a lot in those years, and they sometimes needed maintenance, which is when Carson and I learned about them. We discovered that we could use the rods to prop open all eight elevators doors in a dome, and make people have to climb to the thirty-second floor to unlock them. It seemed a funny joke to us. We found they could also prevent the door from opening all the way, but you had to be inside to do that, and then you were trapped there.”

“What the hell sort of dumb juvenile stunt was that, to even learn how to do it?” Reynolds demanded.

“Six year old boys are huge fans of juvenile stunts. That’s when Carson and I did that. Came in handy, didn’t it?”

Sarge grimaced. “I never once thought of holding on to the reinforcing strip with finger tips and toes, or for Kit to do it with just her claws. I wasn’t sure if we could grab and hang on when we jumped off the two Krall. Then stay up there long enough that our delivery rats did their jobs. If they kept firing at the doors instead of at the bottom crack, they could have burned through at various points, assuming they ever figured out we weren’t standing on the floor or hiding behind their pals.”

“You and dad always told me they don’t have friends, and that mess on the floor proves that. Besides, you said we could always close the door.”

“And do what? Go back up and deal with that pack at the front door? I figured we could get some use out of the two bush-tails we had. One must have finally done the trick. Kit’s roar surely scared the hell out of them, but I wasn’t sure they’d run far enough away to infect them.”

“Perhaps those shoots we risked under the door to scare them again paid off. I was afraid one of us would catch a random bolt in the face when we did that.”

“Calculated risk. Enough chat, and time for another calculation. Get ready to rush them when I reopen the door. I’ll go right, you go left, and we’ll catch us a Gatlek. Hope I don’t get an arm blown off again when I catch this one. Once was enough.” He turned to Kit.

He frilled her image of the typical layout of Krall bunkers. “Which way you gonna go? Left with Ethan or to the right with me?” She looked at him with fierce anticipation as she answered, eyes glowing.

Reynolds nodded. “Of course. Charge straight up the damned middle. Why not? You both ready? Here goes the door.” He inserted a finger in the slot.

****

It was midafternoon, and Nabarone was in no mood to delay. “Start the attacks now, on all eight fronts. To hell with waiting for dawn. The bastards don’t sleep anyway.”

Nabarone had heard back from Thad, that the Gatlek’s own bunker had fallen, and the disarray within the rear of the Krall lines was spreading. Most of their clanships were grounded, and the heavy plasma batteries around the sixty-mile diameter central region were now being taken off line.

That densely occupied central area of clanships and stockpiled heavy weapons had been hit hardest by the small ships and their teams. Now the orbital cap of Kobani ships could descend, to ensure no clanship that managed to lift would escape being disabled. Foxworthy’s squadron had destroyed several apparently fleeing clanships, which strangely did not try to evade or fight back.

Noting this, Greeves had pleaded with her to allow one of his ships to pursue each of those craft with boarding teams, for capture. Amazed again by the Kobani ability to beat the Krall at their own games, she reluctantly agreed, provided they didn’t let them get beyond the orbit of Poldark’s moon before the interception. Her captains were hardly reluctant to kill a helpless clanship out of concern for a crew that would never surrender, or ever return the favor.

None of this rout of the Krall would have been possible without the intervention of the Kobani, so granting the concession was reasonable, if a bit frustrating for her heavy cruisers, all too ready to pull the trigger on sure and easy enemy kills.

When a clanship, in full thrust and lifting directly away from Poldark streaked through the Kobani fleet after being disabled, Greeves called Foxworthy.

“Admiral, I have a gift for you. That clanship that just broke past us must have had a tachyon in its Trap field before launch. It’s disabled and can’t Jump, but with thrusters at max and Normal Space drive accelerating it as well, I don't want to risk an increasing velocity chase and a boarding operation. We sure can’t do that before it passes the moon’s orbit.

“If anything went bad, we’d have a long ways to go for a complicated rescue operation. It’s all yours if you have crews eager to take target practice. Lasers and plasma beams light them up nicely.”

“Thanks, Colonel. I have several captains that had family on Meadow or Bootstrap, and they’re ready for a little vengeance. It hardly seems sporting, though.”

“It isn’t a sport Admiral, its war, and that pilot and any crew aboard would skin you alive for entertainment, and eat pieces of you raw if they were hungry. Some of them have probably done that on Poldark.”

“Right you are. Dead meat coming up.” She disconnected.

Several heavy cruisers started the chase, but couldn’t match the rate of acceleration of the clanship, so they Jumped ahead of its track, where they could wait for it to pass them. They each took turns firing single laser cannons at a time at a fast and accelerating target, then jumped ahead again, repeating the firing exercise until one of them managed to blow up their practice skeet target. It looked more like a sport than war after all. Humans that had been directly involved with fighting the Krall had learned to be ruthless with an enemy that never showed mercy.

****

The artillery bombardment had started on each of the eight fronts the Krall had established from the earliest months of the invasion. The Krall had shifted directions, to advance toward whatever town was largest and closest along the original direction of a front. That pseudopod of force then spread laterally, to engulf the territory to the sides, until linking up with the adjacent fronts around the continent. Then the bulges of the initial assaults eventually spread to look more smooth and continuous on a field map. New pushes then started along each of the original eight fronts, not always simultaneous, with the attack being coordinated by the Gatlek with whichever clan or clans that had been granted the rights to conduct the fighting, and the previous warriors had been rotated out for breeding, and replaced by another clan.

The PU Army had established eight armies to concentrate resistance wherever the Krall forces were most concentrated. Any attempt by an army to send a force to attack what was perceived to be a weakness between these “fronts” had them quickly obliterated. The Krall allowed the clans located there to employ their unrestricted combat capability, and they pinched off the advance to surround and cutoff the penetrating force, killing them down to the last man and woman.

Along the eight fronts, an assault would push the humans back, and just when it seemed the resistance was about to collapse and be overrun, the Krall quit advancing and allowed the enemy to recover, resupply, and rebuild their lines.

Except for the counter attacks after the enemy withdrew forces, and their supply lines were in disarray and too far behind the overextended fronts, the PU had never pushed the enemy out of territory they had taken. This broad and suddenly prepared attack was risky for the lack of planning available to put it into motion. Nonetheless, a general buildup of the eight armies had been conducted, anticipating the Krall would resume their past pattern of sporadic attacks at each front.

The greatest rush had been in preparing mortar and artillery shells, loaded with newly infected Denial chips, salvaged from Krall small arms often carelessly and wastefully left behind if damaged, or from lightly guarded depots near the fronts. After all, humans couldn’t use them, and they were too heavy for them to use very long as a personal weapon even if they could.

Many of the shells being used were purpose built to deliver spy bots, which could scurry about in enemy territory to gather intelligence. Some of the shells fired today still carried spy bots, but now they had a denial chip in them, or glued to some surface. Others were simply fused as aerial bursts, with a small charge, to disburse Denial chips over known concentrations of weapons stockpiles, or warrior forces. A large number of the little chips had been attached to simple four-cornered cloth or plastic squares, two inches per side, to act as small parachutes. It was hoped the winds would carry some of them farther from where the bursts released them.

Each chip, and there were tens of thousands of them being used along each front, had the potential of disabling anything from a single rifle power pack, body armor, or laser defense battery, to a Dragon, laser cart battery, armored transport, or even a clanship not yet infected. If there was a clan bunker that previous spy bots had detected, shells could be aimed there if they were not too deep inside Krall territory. The bonus was when there were many devices within the radius of a single chip, such as a supply dump.

The Denial list spread was enhanced when a vehicle, such as a standard truck driven by a warrior carrying a rifle, and they all did, was infected and it subsequently drove past many other devices and warriors. The spy bots could be programed or remotely directed to creep to where there was any heavy equipment, and thereby disable a heavy plasma cannon, or clanship. Today, some of them were fired near where there were known laser defense systems for artillery. Disabling those meant many more normal high explosive shells, or smart munitions would penetrate their normally effective defenses, and take a much higher toll than usual.

The first troops to move in behind the Denial chip delivery at Kovoso did so under the cover of a conventional artillery barrage. Ladybug drivers and gunners had the nervous honor of being the first to test the initial effect of the barrage and the mysterious Denial chips they’d just heard about. Scary to do this in the middle of the day. The bug squads wanted to wait for early morning, but they were told to go now. “Orders is orders,” their squad commander told them. Since he was in Bug 1, they couldn’t gripe too loud.

Deke Sabo spoke to his gunner. “Saul, there are more dead Krall in the streets than I’ve seen before after a barrage. The smart munitions didn’t find all of them wearing armor or under cover, and they didn’t seem to get the usual early warning that shells were on the way directly at them. I see one over there that wore the body portion, but without a helmet. In a barrage, that marked him as a prime target for a mini bomb.”

Suddenly a motion detector indicated movement to their front, at just under a thousand yards, more than two objects, close together. The smoke and dust of the just lifted barrage sharply reduced visibility, even in the overcast muted daylight, so the driver switched on a sonic scanner. These were relatively new, operating in an audio range just below the high Krall speech frequencies, and at the upper range of low Krall speech and hearing. Not all Krall could detect the initial steady base frequency transmission, which used azimuth and Doppler to measure direction and closing or opening distance to moving objects.

Usually the targets were visible to the driver’s eye, or on the gunner’s targeting monitor, fed from the three barreled plasma cannon’s camera, to the inside of the closed clamshell. With dust and smoke from fires to lower visibility like now, visible and infrared was obscured, so there were alternatives. Once the tri-barrel of the gun was aimed at a potential moving target, a quick audio pulse could obtain a precise range and elevation, but a Krall was more likely to hear the pulse and dive for cover. The radar based motion detector was normally adequate for range, even if it didn’t have a feed to the gunner’s monitor. Besides, with plasma bolts from a ladybug, the range for nearly light speed plasma bolts, properly aimed, was seldom of concern when you were shooting at surface targets less than a few miles away.

The minimum target size for motion reporting was set for a stronger return than from small animals, and all animals larger than cats and small dogs were routinely killed by the Krall, either for an exotic food experience, or most commonly for target practice and pleasure. Smaller animals were killed too if seen, though they could hide more easily, and they wouldn’t be confused with a human or larger sized target by a ladybug team.

All this meant that there were two or more Krall moving towards them less than a thousand yards away. “Be ready for a double tap on the tri-barrel, and I’ll swerve left behind the corner of the building just ahead. We’ll see the flash of return plasma fire if they have operational rifles. Sarge said the chips they dropped here first, or the two we carry are supposed to knock out their rifles at about a hundred twenty feet, but I’m damn well not risking my life to let them get that frigging close. With pistols or bare hands, they can still get to us. Tracks are no good if they flip us on our side and pound the hinges off the doors.”

Saul looked at the motion scanner’s pip fed to his visor for the azimuth, and directed the gun’s pip to match that, and adjusted elevation for a flat chest high trajectory. “Ready to fire. Let me know just before you reach the corner.” They wanted to dodge any return fire immediately after they gave away their position in the murk. Multiple plasma rifles at that close range could score lucky hits.

“Now Saul.”

The gunner used his helmet’s remote trigger capability to fire off two full cycles from the rotating tri-barrel, sending six bolts down range in under a second. Then he was forced to lean right, fighting the hard left turn Deke made at the corner. The bug nearly lifted its left treads from the pavement, and they skidded slightly, with a metal on concrete screech. Then the bug settled and accelerated to get farther from the intersection, and they turned left again at the next street to move farther from the Krall. Deke half-expected bolts to hit them from behind if the warriors, knowing ladybug tactics, raced to the parallel streets on either side of the one they had fired from, hoping to hit the open gun ports on the front of the driver’s compartment if he continued moving closer to them. Deke was no newbie, so he sure as hell wasn’t going to close the gap, but he did have his own rifle protruding through the armored slit where a windscreen would be on a car. He used a front camera fed to his visor to steer, and there was a small monitor on the dash if his helmet were removed.

The armor on the clamshell enclosing the gunner would deflect plasma rounds, and they could travel three times as fast as a Krall could run after them. There was no sign of flares of return plasma fire, although the crack of their passing would likely be lost in the tread noise on the paved street. The electric fusion powered engine was quiet, and the powered gun’s motors were just as quiet.

The rear radar sensors of the motion detector, automatically compensating for their own motion, reported nothing moving behind them on the parallel street. Deke drove another block, and swung left at a cross street to reach their previous street, where they’d been patrolling.

He moved just the nose of the driver’s cab from behind the building at the corner. The exposed front sensor array reported no motion to their left at all. Ether they’d dropped their targets, or they had moved off that street. Damned visibility! They didn’t know what they did or didn’t accomplish.

“I ain’t going back down that street Saul. We may have killed two or three of them or missed them all, and they didn’t fire back. That can mean dead rifles, or experienced warriors that didn’t waste doubtful shots, trying to get us to come back to take another look.”

“Deke, I was monitoring the squad frequencies as you drove. None of the other three ladybugs were fired at with lasers or plasma when they had motion, but bug two had pings from deflected pistol rounds. Griswold says she fired back in the direction their sensors indicated, and there no more slugs hit them, even though they had a half block to travel to get off that street. There should have been more slug hits unless they got the bastard.”

“Shit, Griswold ain’t steady under fire. That’s what Zolan says, and he’s had several gunners. She may have missed them.”

“Neither of them are deaf, Deke. Slugs hitting anywhere on a bug are unmistakable. There was no more return fire, and a Krall can zero in on tread sounds with their eyes closed at a half mile. It’s usually plasma fire, but if all they have is a projectile gun, they don’t conserve ammo, and they don’t miss.”

“You think they’ve really lost their main weapons?”

“Maybe. They seem to be way too passive after that barrage let up. They should be coming out of wherever they took cover. I’m still not ready for you to drive back down this street. Deke, why don’t cha tell the squad leader we’re moving over to patrol the next grid in front of us?” The driver, yoke in his hand, would decide where they patrolled, not the gunner, but he agreed.

A breeze from the mountains began to push the smoke away, and the dust was settling. A renewed barrage or a frontal assault was awaiting reports from the multiple ladybug squads sent into the outskirts of Kovoso. Shots were being fired at suspected Krall movements and occasional return fire came from projectile weapons. In one case, a relatively low power laser beam was used, probably from a handheld weapon. Those were generally not considered deadly enough weapons by a Krall, particularly against humans in armor. Regardless, if all other weapons were disabled, even a club or knife would have to serve.

In past probes of the outskirts of Kovoso, the Krall response had been decidedly vigorous, and they had driven back the probing forces, often with a loss of a ladybug or two, out of four or five squads. It was premature to recommend the involvement of ground troops, tanks and other armor, and space planes, but the Krall seemed to have pulled back from the edge of Kovoso. They weren’t known for laying traps, to entice a reckless enemy to enter. To the contrary, a recent slow buildup at all eight main Krall concentrations seemed to foretell a renewed series of assaults. It was to measure enemy readiness the probe was initiated, and to determine if Krall heavy weapons were out of service.

The Krall didn’t seem ready, and no heavy weapons had been fired, but no mere bug squad leader wanted to make a bad call, and then find him and his squad at the front of the advance into a buzz saw.

Deke drove up another street six blocks over, and here the dust had settled, and the smoke from a smoldering fire was being blown over the grid they had been in previously, to their left.

They cautiously approached a large traffic circle intersection, in a former shopping district. The trees in the former inner park area still had some ragged foliage on them, and a couple had been shattered today, by the looks of the fresh white wood. Although, smart munitions didn’t select trees as targets unless there were Krall detected under or behind them.

Scattered throughout the trees, were dozens of dead Krall, most without helmets, and some without any armor at all. There were rifles lying about, but not in the grip of any warrior’s hand, as usually seen. They held on to those even in death.

“Shit! Saul, you seeing this?”

“Yea. I never saw that many dead in one spot before. I wonder why they gathered here? They must have known the mortar rounds that sent over the chips were a hint of more to come. They should have gone to cover.”

“I may know why. That dry fountain in the center. Are those stacks of rifle cases and power packs in the empty basin, behind the raised rim? What if they came to get replacements for rifles that didn’t work, and the defense system didn’t warn them of the main barrage coming?”

Suddenly, Saul fired three bolts from the tri-barrel into a cluster of several warriors lying on the ground by a busted concrete park bench. “One of them was moving, fumbling at a weapons harness. He’s good now.” Good, as in a dead Krall.

“Saul, there are rifles all over the place, and he was checking his weapons belt for a pistol or a knife? I think these suckers are down to handguns, knives or clubs. If their helmet visors don’t work, they don’t have any data feeds, and the armor won’t go stealth. I just noticed I see every one of them that has on body armor. At least some of them would be heads on an invisible body if the suits were powered. I’m calling this in to Sargent Wilkins.”

Soon, drones spotted Krall moving into the center of Kovoso from the northern fringes being probed, and only pistol shots were fired at the drones. Not a single plasma or heavy laser weapon was used from within the center the recently pounded city. As the drones moved beyond the other side of the city to the south, they were finally shot down by multiple plasma bolts from rifles, and once by a laser defense battery. That area had not yet been hit with Denial chips.

Nabarone, receiving the same kinds of report from every area where the Denial chips were dropped first, let lose the hounds.

“Advance on all fronts, with artillery and mortars leading the way. Pause only when we run low on Denial chips. Every soldier is to gather up Krall rifles and power packs, and send them back to their mobile command posts by truck. There we’ll have noncombat people remove the chips, to be packed into mortar shells. We’ll keep shoving them back and killing the bastards until we stack them like cordwood, and have to burn them to prevent the stink from their rotting corpses.”

The Krall had not broken or turned to run yet, but it was a lesson he was eager to teach them. It could be that by breeding, they were incapable of that sort of panic, but they certainly didn’t know how to withdraw in an organized fashion, and regroup for another stand. Stand and die, or retreat and die, but die they would. There didn’t appear to be any that were willing to surrender to a superior human force, as they were often permitted to do in interclan warfare. That too may have been bred out of them. If so, there wouldn’t be a Krall alive on Poldark inside of a year.

He linked to his friend. “Thad my lad, would you and Sarge like to come down for some really fine brandy? Feel free to drop any Denial chips on the enemy as you cruise over them.” He was in a gleeful mood.

“Henry, we’ll do that, just as soon as Sarge, Ethan and Kit get back to their four-ship, and join me in orbit. They have Gatlek Fistok, who seems to have lost his left arm in capture. Sarge says it was shot off inadvertently, but he lost his own left arm you’ll recall, when he tried to get away with a previous dead Gatlek’s corpse. Sounds fishy to me.

“I’ve recalled all our small ships. They used up their chips, and we have some more we extracted in orbit while we kept the clanships from launching. By my rough count, we will be able to recover all but about fifty of those clanships that were here, or approximately four hundred fifty. You can keep some of them if you want, but you’d have to reveal your mods and tattoo if you wanted to use them. The navy is bound to notice.”

After a brief consideration, he declined. “No. Assuming the Krall don’t find a way to put their weapons back into service, I’ll have at least a year of fighting and mop up work right here. I’ll have time to rethink the offer, and you and Tet have more need for the massive fleet you can use to attack and exploit Krall worlds. I’m more of a homebody than you are now, and I won’t leave Poldark unless forced to do so, if my mods are discovered and I’m suddenly declared an outlaw. That depends on whether Tet can convince the Hub government to accept the existence of Kobani in their midst, or he forces them to accept us.”

He changed subject. “I linked to Haveram and Caldwell while you were slapping down clanships. They are barely a day ahead of your New Dublin fleet, and the bait ship will arrive close to when they White Out, after their stop here. Most incoming clanships make it through planetary defenses anyway, but that one doesn’t have any defensive capability. The navy might not hold missiles back if they get a shot at him.”

“That would be inconvenient Henry, but if it happens, they can wait to start the assault while preparing more Denial chips. Manwell Aldana, who has charge of that Kobani fleet, could White Out all four hundred ships behind a gas giant, and stay concealed while they wait for Caldwell and Haveram get the PU prepared. I assume New Dublin has a planet like that. Nearly every system does.”

“They do,” Nabarone confirmed. “A Super Saturn, but I suppose some scientific egghead would call it a Super Jupiter with rings. They could duck behind that as long as needed, and the Krall wouldn’t know they were there.

“Depending on how fast the two PU military leaders respond to Howard and the Chief, Manwell can adjust his plans and exit where the Krall won’t see the fleet, and the navy won’t get nervous before they know what’s going on. Comtap takes the guesswork and mistakes out of unplanned situations when you have instant com, even in Tachyon Space.

“I mean, you knew we were coming eight days before we arrived.”

“Thad, if the attack preparations take longer to set up at New Dublin, the previous hundred supply ships may finish unloading and head back to K1.”

“Possibly, but Tet left five hundred ships there. With Mind Tap, even the teenagers will know as much as the Krall do about those ships, and they’ll have all the theory on tactics, and some practice by then. They’ll know in advance the day they should arrive. We have that covered.”

“I’ve been busy, have you talked with Tet about the operation here?”

“Almost every hour, and I don’t call him, he calls me. They’re stuck in a Jump Hole for three weeks, so he’s been bugging Manwell and me every hour, asking about my progress, or Manwell’s preparations. He hates not being in the thick of things, and while in Jump travel, he’s bored and anxious. Haveram, the crusty old friend that he is, asked Tet to please not link with him for the next few hours. There’s just the two of them on the Falcon, and they’re sitting and pulling Denial chips from a stack of power packs you gave them, just as fast as they can.”

“OK. I’ll link to him and Maggi, to give you guys a break, and I’ll tell him how well my troops are advancing on the ground on all eight fronts. After I get through, he’ll be the one that wants a break.”

Chapter 4: New Dublin

After Nabarone broke the lengthy link, Maggi offered her opinion. “Tet, I told you that you were acting like a mother hen. Even Henry, a famous windbag, suggested you were checking up on everyone too often, keeping them from their work while they were too polite not to have a conversation with you.”

“You both are right, even if he didn’t come right out and say it like that. Unlike my dear wife, who had no problem at all telling me.”

“Just doing my job. It’s why I get paid the big bucks.”

“Bucks?”

“Old North American slang term for money. I guess it would be credits today, if that old saying were still used.”

“Hummph. I don't pay you anything, and if you get paid at all it’s more than I earn.”

“You know what? You’re right, and we need to change that. I don’t mean for you and I. Our budding society needs an economy similar to what we had in Human Space. We’ve been in a sort of barter system and communal property status for so long that we’ve all forgotten what it was like earning a salary before we were isolated on Koban.

“Now that Koban has been revealed as our home, at least to the Krall, there’s no need to keep it a secret from the Planetary Union. With our new fleet, we don’t have to fear what they think of our genetics. We’ll soon be engaging in open trade and travel, I suppose, and we’ll need currency for that. PU credits can be bought with precious metals and jewels, but rare metals are not as highly valued as they were before asteroid mining put so much of it on the market. It’s still valued, but not as much as it was hundreds of years ago. It’s why Chief Haveram has to haul tons of the stuff to pay for our secret shopping sprees in Human Space. He said we got a better exchange for the jewels we mined, because those are not as common on asteroids, but Koban doesn’t have any more gems than most worlds. We only just started mining them so they’re easy to find right now, but they’ll eventually run low and get scarce if we use them up that way.”

Mirikami nodded his agreement. “I’ve given that a bit of thought, but assumed it was still far in our future. We do have something we can offer that no one else can. Ourselves, with our capabilities, and now a fleet of warships. I don’t see the Hub worlds wanting us for that purpose, and they’d probably be opposed. Maybe half or more of the Rim worlds might want a police force that criminals can’t corrupt, bribe, or resist, and that can’t be intimidated by outside pressure. We could hire on to be a buffer from the intense bullying the PU government has used for centuries to force concessions from them. Henry and Thad both built a militia because they thought a PU forcible takeover of Poldark was a threat, even before the Krall arrived to turn the PU into their protector.

“The thousands of worlds we are about to liberate from Krall control were largely underused, and under exploited, with a few exceptions. We’ll be the ones to tell the PU who can colonize them, and under what conditions. Our alien allies have no defensive capability, so they’ll need us as they resettle worlds taken from them. There are unknown threats out there beyond the limits we’ve barely touched, at the edges of what the Krall conquered.”

“Are you thinking of us becoming an independent military force?”

“Our physical strength, mental capability, secure communications via Comtap, and sheer speed make us naturals as soldiers, if we wished to serve in that role. I’m not thinking of a typical military force exactly, like the PU’s army or navy. Guardians, or interstellar police perhaps, at least inside our own borders, where we’ll be our own protectors. Some Kobani might become mercenaries for other planets, but I want us to establish rigid and firm moral grounds for what we will permit people to hire out to do, and remain part of Koban society. We can’t allow anyone that lives in our midst to become killers or conquers for hire.

“Although, with Mind Taps making us sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of other beings, and the ripper morality that we all seem to share, we object to killing without justification. There have been some exceptions while fighting the Krall, but even there it doesn’t last. I don't expect that kind of moral decay to happen to us, becoming callus killers. I don't suppose that Rome’s founders thought that empire would turn decadent and rot from within either.

“As for who might hire us from outside the Human Rim worlds, I can’t say, since we haven’t met them yet. We don't know exactly where our future borders are yet, and there may be some disputes with unknown alien cultures as to what we have won from the Krall. There may be sympathetic species out there that have their own Krall-like oppressors. If we charge outsiders for our services, and within our own volume of space, if our citizens agree to pay us a wage for keeping them safe, there’s a living to be made, and adventure to be had.

“I know some of us will return to being just Spacers and traders, as we once were, others would remain intellectuals, educators, and scientists, like you, Aldry, and Rafe. Dillon, I think, has decided he likes the excitement of meeting the unknown out in the Universe, with Noreen. Thad and Sarge were already like that. Carson and Ethan, like most of our youngsters, I think they have too much energy to become office workers, shopkeepers, farmers, or those that run small businesses.”

Maggi added her thoughts. “With our retentive wolfbat organized memories, organic superconductor bodies and minds, Comtap aided instant mental links and Mind Taps, which even the Olt’kitapi couldn’t match, and the technology we are rapidly developing, we can probably compete with any species, and even outcompete. There are surely species older than were the Olt’kitapi, and perhaps more technologically advanced. They might not take kindly to an upstart young species, as even our allies think of us.”

“True. But for roughly twenty-five thousand years, the barbaric Krall beat down all comers, until they met this upstart young species. In roughly twenty-five years, we appear to have bested them. Admittedly, we were helped by some Olt’kitapi tech, which those worthy’s never made work properly.

“We don’t have to become protectors of the weak, but I like that idea myself. None of us has to become something they don’t like, and any of us can become almost whatever we want to be. With our long Prada-like lives, each of us will surely be multiple things over the course of a long enough life.”

Maggi gave him a sidewise glance. “And you always describe yourself as a simple Spacer. You have never given yourself the credit you deserve. Those of us who love and respect you give you that credit, despite your objections, and we’ll continue to do so.”

She saw him blush. “That red faced embarrassment is one of the reasons we admire and follow you. You’re humble, unpretentious, and fun to tease.”

Uncomfortable with personal complements, he changed subjects, as usual. “Jorl Breaker linked to me before Nabarone did, when you were down eating. His fifty-ship squadron reached their first Krall world. It’s the closest one to Koban, and once belonged to the extinct Malverans. It was held by the Dorbo clan, the first Krall clan that tried to live on Koban. They found eight domes, and twenty-four clanships parked around them. They had the proper landing code and they were able to descend unopposed, disabling the clanships and nine shuttles on the eight tarmacs in minutes. Anti-ship missiles for the clanships, and they landed and fired Denial chipped slugs at the shuttles. They shot at the roof of the domes to disable the command centers up there, but didn’t try to enter the domes from the surface.

“Richard Yan piloted one of the ships, and he landed by a woods where the only Prada village they found was located. The nearby dome had an underground factory, so Richard, with his stealth switched off at first, caught and Mind Tapped some of the frightened Prada. Then with several of his crew, they entered the village tunnel and went down into the factory. Inside, they climbed up to where the dome’s first level fusion generators were located. Activating suit stealth, they walked to within a hundred feet of the generators before any Krall knew they were inside and reacted. It seems a Prada elder followed them up and called out a warning.”

“I hope none of them hurt that Prada.”

“Of course not. Although, the Krall that drew their weapons can’t say the same. Richard and his boys, and I do mean boys, gunned them all down. They switched off the generators and the dome and factory went electrically dead. Because there already were warriors swarming out onto the tarmac, intending to enter their disabled clanships and two shuttles, Richard decided to lead his three teenagers back through the factory and Prada village to their ship.”

“What about the twenty-four clanships?”

“Jorl sent eighty-eight people, four per ship, to fly them out. Only two of them were occupied when they entered. His squadron now can boast seventy-two ships, but he only has the eight hundred people, sixteen per ship, that he started with. All of them are under the age of twenty. Hell all six of those squadrons are like that. Most of the cream of our youth. These new ships are crewed with youngsters that only have Mind Tap knowledge of how to fly them.”

“Ahem,” she nudged him. “What was your clanship flight experience the first time you lifted the Mark? You had Mind Tap knowledge that came from a Krall, passed second hand through Carson, Ethan, or Alyson. Our kids today know everything we’ve learned since then, from other Kobani.”

“You’re right. They’re better prepared than I was on my first flight, and they have much better physical ability than I had when I flew to Poldark, with only clone mods. It’s hard to grasp how they’ve grown. Our most experienced flight crews stayed behind to form the fleet staying over K1, our spec ops had to go to Poldark with Thad, and to New Dublin with Manwell. I have a bunch of experienced raiders with me, to face the Guardians. Most of our noncombat folks, who only went to K1 to defend our home, went back to Koban. The youngest of the full Kobani is all I had to send into Krall territory.”

“Well, their first action inside enemy territory went pretty well, apparently.”

“Yes. I hadn’t thought about any of them getting into a possible ground combat situation. Most of the rippers went to Poldark and New Dublin, and we have ten with us. Only Kobalt and the other two wounded cats went back to Koban. Aldry says all of them will make full recoveries, and that she has a surprise for us when we get home. Wouldn’t give me a hint either. Do you know?”

“A surprise? No. I spoke to her aboard the Vanguard before we left K1, but she didn’t say anything to me then. It may have to do with the new modifications Rafe and she were making on the med labs, to make them more comfortable for a ripper. We had thought the cats would like to lie on their sides, as they do at home when relaxing. Instead, they wanted to stay on their bellies, heads resting on paws. It lets them see over the sides easier when the top is opened, and they can see the area around them through the bubble window Rafe added. They show less stress than a human does when confined for so long, and they preferred to stay awake rather than sleep through the nanite repairs. I think it’s the predator life style, of patiently waiting for prey, and waiting for the next hunt to start as they digest their last big meal. Aldry feeds them very well while they heal.”

****

The days passed, and the main occupation on the Mark and the other ships in the fleet seeking Telour, was the tedious task of extracting the chips from plasma rifles, packed in the hundreds of cases they had brought with them. The other groups had been given the more compact pallets of rifle power packs, which yielded their chips easier and faster, because the other fleets had shorter journeys and less time to work. The rifles had to be partly dismantled to extract their denial chip, but at least there was no need to reassemble them.

Four days into their trip, they heard about how forty of Manwell’s fleet Jumped from behind a giant Saturn analogue, to White Out over New Dublin. The ships acted as if they were being pursued by Commander Molotov’s squadron, which dove at them firing anti-ship missiles, and there was a flurry of Planetary Defense Command missiles launched from General Masterfem’s bases, which also appeared intended to pick off some of the newly arrived clanships.

Manwell’s ships dove into the atmosphere, in a move typical of Krall pilots, daring the enemy to try to hit them, firing laser cannons and plasma bolts at the enemy ships and incoming missiles. The Krall clanships already on New Dublin of course allowed the new arrivals to descend unchallenged, and the incoming friendly clanships were coincidentally located between the ring of heavy plasma cannons on the surface, and the tightly clustered heavy cruisers of the navy. The ground defense batteries couldn’t fire on the enemy without firing through the twisting and dodging supply ships.

It didn’t appear much of a defense was needed anyway for the supply vessels. The human forces held their distance, and their anti-ship missiles seemed to be oddly ineffective. They missed their targets repeatedly, and the heavier PDC missiles, streaking over the Krall lines, all exploded long before reaching their intended targets. The invasion on New Dublin, still within its first three months, had occupied considerably less area that the Poldark invasion forces had conquered in two and a half years. Here, clans and equipment were concentrated in a smaller area, but they were well defended.

The small enemy missiles that rained down in their hundreds, passed completely through the forty clanships without producing a single explosion. Several missiles actually were seen to make contact, but deflected and continued down. Their proximity fusing had inexplicably failed. They then struck on or near a few of the grounded clanships, which had hesitated to fire counter missiles of their own, for fear of hitting their own supply craft. There still were no explosions. Many of the missiles landed off target, near the weapons storage areas, and others hit harmlessly next to many of the heavy plasma batteries.

To the Krall, it was an astounding demonstration of human ineptitude. However, the inbound supply ships would be landing in moments, even though they had started to scatter widely over the occupied territory. Once they were down and out of the way, there would be a mass of counter fire and launches of clanships to drive the enemy away. If the enemy failed to Jump away, as they normally did when confronted with an equal number of clanships, they would suffer many time the losses they inflicted.

Then, an amazing Krall strategy was revealed to the ground observers. Hundreds of clanships suddenly executed White Outs, a hundred miles behind the human squadron of sixty heavy cruisers. It was a trap, and now the navy was caught in a vise. At least three thousand anti-ship missiles were launched at those heavy cruisers, now barely two hundred miles above the planet, also placing them in range of the heavy batteries about to have a clear sky to fire at them. The incoming missiles quickly closed the hundred-mile gap to the enemy. Apparently, the human navy had not been prepared to Jump yet, expecting to have time to fire another salvo of missiles at the forty supply ships.

****

Gatlek Pendor, secure in his deeply buried bunker, had been alerted as soon as the forty supply clanships did their White Outs. He’d raced to his command console, to observe, and to direct if needed, the defense of this welcome addition to his supplies of heavy equipment and small arms. They were even low on dried Raspani jerky, and front line warriors often had to eat local animals. One octet of novices learned why eating the enemy was a poor substitute for proper field rations. A captured human nest that failed to evacuate soon enough, paid the price. The result was the barracks type stories of any army, about how terrible the local food was, that humans, even when young, were worse cooked than raw.

The first wave of enemy missiles were passing through his precious supply ships as Pendor arrived at his console monitors. The tight clustering of the inbound clanships was helping shield the enemy behind them from his strongest defenses, which were centered within five miles of his bunker. Suddenly, as the enemy missiles were about to reach the clanships, they finally did the sensible thing and scattered in all directions, so the enemy, now within range of his heavy batteries would soon be exposed to ground fire. None of the navy missiles managed to hit any of the supply ships, and the heavier PDC missiles were apparently shot down by alert front line clans, well before they reached the targeted clanships. The level of inexperienced fighting skills of the humans at New Dublin was being clearly demonstrated. After years of fighting on Poldark, the enemy was more proficient there.

His heavy battery commander was waiting only for the Gatlek to clear him to initiate return fire, once the supply craft were safely out of the way. Suddenly there was the startling sound of alarms, and flashes on monitors registered many White Outs. The computer numbers indicated three hundred sixty clanships had just appeared, only a hundred miles behind and above the closely clustered heavy cruisers. The clanships emerged firing thousands of anti-ship missiles. This was an ambush of the navy, exactly as they had done against the Krall fleet at K1. The navy squadron was hugely outnumbered and badly positioned.

Telour, or one of his sub leaders, had known exactly how the human squadron would respond to an attempt to infiltrate so many heavily laden and slow supply ships all at once. The squadron would Jump close to attack, close enough that their missiles would reach the atmospheric hindered and heavily loaded clanships before they could land.

The other clanships of the Krall trap had timed their arrival perfectly, and the heavy cruisers would take severe losses or damage, even if they were intending to Jump away before the ground-based attacks could reach them. They would have been expecting clanship and anti-ship missile launches from the planet’s surface, which was three times as far away. That three hundred mile buffer would provide them time to make their escape, but not from an attack barely a hundred miles behind them, and in such numbers. It was a brilliant plan.

The shine started to tarnish from that plan as the first wave of hundreds of navy missiles passed harmless through the dodging supply craft. It was gratifying that they had missed their targeted clanships, but now they continued towards the ground instead of turning towards the original evading targets, or exploding harmlessly when their proximity fusing and onboard computers calculated they were never going to be any close to their targets than they were. The missiles, most of which were headed at the area that had been below the supply ships, would come down within the dense defensive ring of clanships that Pendor kept around his bunker, and within the five mile ring of heavy plasma cannons.

Again, they did only minor damage to a few pieces of equipment directly hit in the crowded staging areas, some even scraped the hulls on a number of clanships, and hit some small arms catches, but there were no explosions. He released his battery commander to fire conditionally, just as soon as last of the supply clanships passed beyond the ring’s perimeter.

He returned his attention to the missiles about to destroy many of the navy ships. The enemy was so flustered they hadn’t even initiated defensive laser fire, or launched decoys to divert any of the missiles. Human reaction time was notoriously slow, but their AI’s were normally faster than Krall reactions by far.

Incredibly, those missiles started passing targets without detonating. A few glanced off hulls, noticeable by the bent thruster contrails after they diverged. Abruptly, the sixty-five heavy cruisers winked out, in a perfectly coordinated mass Jump. The first properly coordinated thing they had managed to accomplish. The supply ships had just cleared the rim of the ring of waiting cannons, but there were no targets for them now.

One of his aides called to get his attention. “What is it?” He snarled. He had his supplies, and more, but the humans had paid no price, even after falling into a trap.

“My Gatlek, our own missiles continue to descend. With no targets, they should have ceased acceleration, turned away from the planet and disarmed their warheads, to await collection, fresh propellant, and reuse. They are still coming at us, as did the human missiles.”

In an instant, Pendor was broadcasting to whoever the commander was of the fleet overhead. “This is Gatlek Pendor. Your missiles have not turned away. Disarm their warheads or initiate self-destruct immediately. Who is the commander Telour placed in charge?”

Not only was no reply sent, but the missile defense commander, in charge of the next row of consoles, reported another salvo of anti-ship missiles had just been launched.

“My leader, there was no advance warning this time because they are no longer using radar tracking or guidance, as they did when they fired at the human ships. These missiles have no designated targets, and without guidance the first salvo, already deep in atmosphere, are not guided either. They are coming like a random aerial bombardment. Why did they fire more missiles?”

Pendor turned and shouted at the communications consoles. “Did any of the supply ships contact you for landing instructions?”

“Not yet my leader.”

He snarled a Krall curse, and said, “None of these ships are ours, this is a human trick. Fire at them all. Do it now!”

The orders started going out to all the clan bunkers, because even the Gatlek could not bypass their clan leaders and issue orders to their warriors without their concurrence. At least he had instant authority over his clan’s own forces, and Maldo clan was those that immediately surrounded his bunker. He’d learned from Telour’s treachery to surround himself with those loyal to him. That foolishly overlooked the fact that Telour had arranged for his own clan mate’s death. That was when he had Pendor kill Kanpardi. Ambition within his own ranks could also be used against him.

Today, his sub leaders and aides would all respond fiercely to his call to fight and kill their treacherous enemy. Using his clan’s general alert frequency, he ordered every Mordo warrior and clanship to fire on the arriving supply clanships, and at those located three hundred miles overhead. In practical terms, ground launched anti-ship missiles would be easily destroyed or evaded as they covered three hundred miles, so only the heavy plasma cannons had any real chance of inflicting damage at that orbital altitude. Several batteries would have to coordinate and focus on a single target even then. At only one or two hundred miles, an atmosphere and range attenuated single plasma bolt would have retained enough heat and energy to be a significant risk. The enemy had stayed out where it was a medium to low risk unless hit by two or more near light speed bolts simultaneously.

The first of the thick ring of Mordo clanships around his buried bunker fired their lasers and plasma cannons, destroying hundreds of the thousands of incoming missiles, which all seemed destined to strike within miles of the center of the strong point he’d created around his bunker. The hypervelocity missiles were already below twenty miles, and more seemed to be surviving than should be the case, although he knew they were never going to stop them all. As he looked over at the defensive coordinators, their monitors showed amber colored symbols, which indicated there were gaps in the defensive ring of clanships, where there should have been automatically coordinated laser and plasma fire, controlled by the sub leaders here in his bunker.

“Why are so many clanship commanders not coordinating our defensive fire through you?” His words were not phrased in a tone that indicated it was a query. It was a demand.

“My Gatlek, we have multiple hands of clusters of three to four clanships that each respond to us by radio, but they can’t bring their weapons consoles online.”

“Were they damaged by the first missiles?”

“There were only near misses in most cases, my leader, but they say they have lost navigation and weapons control. They were also prepared, if you ordered them to do so, to launch their clanships or fire missiles. They are unable to do even that.”

He cursed again. “How many of this salvo will penetrate?”

Hesitant to sound pessimistic, but unable to lie to his Gatlek, he gave a two-part answer. “Where we have intact firing command, less than a fourth will reach the ground. In compromised areas,” he indicated three particularly dead areas, “There we will stop less than half. Of the first wave.” He added in apprehension.

Swiping the air with talons extended on one hand, Pendor made a com set call to a sub leader, located on the surface, “Hothdis, we will receive more missile damage in three sectors to the north and northeast in minutes. Send damage control there, and route sixteen mobile plasma batteries and four laser defense systems to that area.” He was preparing to plug holes about to grow larger in his defenses. Shortly, although he wouldn’t know the human analogy, he was going to be like a boy with his fingers in dike that had too many holes. The waves of equipment failures would become a flood he couldn’t halt.

The next failure report came from the commander of their heavy plasma cannons. “Gatlek Pendor! Of our six hands of cannons, less than two hands responded to remote commands when I ordered them fired.” He was telling his leader that of twenty-four batteries, fewer than eight sent their powerful star energy plasma bolts aloft when he sent the signal for them to fire at their designated targets.

“Fire them manually. You have K’Tals for that out there. What’s blocking your remote commands?”

“The K’Tals informed me the signals were properly received, and the control consoles display the coordinates sent, and register that a firing command was received. Despite that, the mounting gimbals and their drive motors did not respond, in order to aim the cannons. The firing commands did not trigger bolts on those units, nor did the preheated plasma chambers receive injections of fresh plasma in their magnetic containment chambers. The K’Tals say manual control also does not function.

“Why was I not told of this failure?” His voice was pitched dangerously; the red pits of his eyes seething with barely contained fury.

“It was not recognized until I sent the firing commands, and no one tried manual operation before then. Only seven cannons fired, but because they were not matched with any other cannons for maximum energy delivery, at three hundred miles the single bolts caused no serious damage to those seven clanships, of the eight we selected for destruction.”

“While you fix the other cannons, combine what does work and kill at least one of these demon possessed enemy clanships!”

In the background, he heard a simple announcement, which conveyed considerable threat. “Missiles about to impact…” After a pause, the warrior said, with a curious tone in his voice. “No detonations. All of the missiles fired at us seem to be defective.”

The commander of the heavy cannons was speaking again into his shoulder-mounted com set. “I have three more batteries that just became unresponsive, leaving four that are so far apart that coordinated concentrated targeting on a single target will have less precise focusing. Anti-ship missiles crashed harmlessly near those that just failed. They visibly quit moving on their gimbals as they tracked their targets, when the impacts came within ten leaps of their locations. Hands of K’Tals, previously dressed in armor for protection from the heat-pulses when the cannons fired, have reported to me. When they approach a cannon’s console to see if it will fire manually, their helmet visor displays quit, and the powered assist for the suits switch off. They now only have radio and air recycling functioning.”

Pendor, still furious, also managed to look worried. A difficult feat for the minimally expressive Krall face. “I don’t think the humans wasted time firing thousands of defective missiles at us. They may have worked exactly as intended. This could be some sort of Electronic Counter Measure they are using, to shut down the electronics built into our weapons.”

One of his aides approached from the communications consoles. He’d heard the comment. “My Gatlek, their electronic weapons are disabling clanships, armor, plasma rifles, and any of our heavy equipment. Even the keypads on clanship doors and portals will not respond. The clans at the fronts, those that were under the PDC missiles that you though they shot down. They say they were unable to hit anything that fast and high with their shorter-range ground combat weapons, but the debris did fall around them, scattering many small pieces that did not look like missile casing parts. After that, their equipment began to fail.”

“Did we destroy any of the false supply ships?” Pendor asked this with little hope of an encouraging answer.

“My leader,” his heavy battery commander said, standing well away from him. “They landed well beyond the Mordo clan’s inner defensive perimeter, and outside my ring of batteries. As you commanded, the heavy batteries held fire until the clanships were clear, believing they were from K1 at that time. When you ordered their destruction, they were too low to the horizon for targeting by orbital defense cannons, and they were landing. Wherever any of them have touched down, there is a spreading region of equipment that suddenly becomes unresponsive. Starting with the closest clanships.”

Another sub leader started with a report of good news, “We have bands of thousands of warriors converging on those enemy ships.”

The good news didn’t last. “But suddenly their armor shuts down and their rifles will not fire when they approach. Our mini-tanks, mobile plasma cannon carts, and armored transports will not start, or if already operating, they soon quit responding to steering or firing commands. Those warriors with projectile pistols say they continue to fire normally. What are your orders?”

His voice appeared to harden with grim resolve. “Gather all of our old projectile weapons and ammunition, and prepare to face a worthy enemy. I’m confident human weapons will continue to work properly. It will be a brave and honorable battle for our warriors. And for us.” He added.

Pendor wondered if he should have stayed behind on Poldark as Gatlek, refusing Telour’s offer of reward for their joint treachery in helping him to kill Kanpardi. He wanted to be far away from this current vexing set of problems, which offered a possibility of much more than simply a loss of status.

****

Manwell took a different tact at New Dublin than Thad Greeves had followed on Poldark. Thad had adhered to Mirikami’s instructions, to avoid intense Kobani involvement in fighting the entrenched Krall forces, and allow the PU military to carry the brunt of the fighting to come. After all, General Nabarone had command of eight long established armies, with their supply and command infrastructures solidly in place.

On New Dublin, in the early months of the invasion, General Ellen Masterfem’s troops and equipment had been posted on distant colony worlds, and were rushed here to form an opposing fighting force before the Krall could roll over a large amount of territory nearly unopposed. That was what the Krall had done on Greater West Africa (now called K1), Bollovstic's Republican Independency, and to a lesser extent on better prepared and forewarned Poldark.

Some of Masterfem’s heavy equipment and arms were still arriving and desperately needed. Items that were in short supply for a successful assault she now discovered was possible. The local industry was rapidly gearing up to build and provide material such as housing, food, military vehicles, and new factories to manufacture small arms, tanks, artillery, and ammunition. They were still building roads and bridges, railway lines, airfields, and organizing the things that could get the raw materials to the factories, and deliver the finished products to the army. That all took time and the lack of an established planetary infrastructure to support a war was keeping Masterfem from fully exploiting her new advantage. The Krall were consolidating their positions, and they had conducted surprise raids to capture human made small arms, and some heavier weapons and ammunition, such as mortars and mobile artillery batteries. They were limited on how much ammunition they were able to steal along with the weapons. They used them poorly, but at close range, they were dangerous.

Fortunately, a Krall was physically too large to fit into the hatches of any of the three human models of tanks in use. These were now seeing their first use in an assault into Krall held territory, having been of more survivable use on defense when the Krall attacked.

The stealthy, plasma-bolt-resistant, ceramic coated Panther, with a combination of light tracks that could be raised or lowered, had fans and skirts for hovercraft capability. In motion as a hovercraft, stealth was pointless. It mounted twin medium Plasma canons, and an independently rotatable medium power, multi-spectrum automated laser cannon.

A medium tank, the B3 Maxwell, was tracked and fast, with a three hundred sixty degree field of fire from eight fixed medium powered lasers, two per side. Those could take out Krall body armor and mobile plasma cannon carts. It featured a plasma cannon that could punch through the hull of a clanship up close, but they could rarely risk getting that close. Its own armor was unable to sustain repeated hits from a clanship’s plasma cannons. The Panther had amphibious capability for surface flotation via an inflatable ring, which was not suitable for battle conditions. It simply eliminated a need for a bridge to ford a river or lake.

The PU’s main battle tank, which a Krall warrior might have fit inside if the hatches were larger, was the B1 heavy tank, tracked versions only, with the river fording modification as an add-on. Made by Brunto manufacturing, its long range massive plasma cannon protruded from the domed bulge above a large plasma injection chamber like a long neck. The dome fed it heavy bolts at a relatively high rate, and the dome shape and barrel, along with the company name, earned it the obvious and unofficial nickname of Brontosaurus. It had heavy armor, and they added ceramic plates over that on all sides. It could engage in long-range duels with a grounded clanship, or with hilltop stationed laser or plasma batteries, but if a clanship lifted and flew over, it was too vulnerable. Most often, the heavy tank attacked from some reinforced and prepared elevated position, on a hillside or mountain face, where it retreated to cover after firing a number of accurately aimed heavy bolts downrange in only ten seconds. That was a cycle rate better than for a clanship, even though those craft mounted four, but slower cycling cannons.

For the first time they could enter into combat with Krall ground forces without fear of the clanships heavy firepower and mobility being a threat. Unfortunately, New Dublin’s lack of advance war preparations meant bringing human forces to bear quickly was a problem, which gave the Krall more time to prepare for the coming fight. They now had possession of thousands of human plasma rifles, which were awkward in their large taloned hands. They had no problem firing them, but their legendary accuracy suffered. They were also limited on replacement human power packs, but their K’Tals had adapted the fusion bottles from their own power pack recharging stations to keep a flow of power packs returning to the warriors with the stolen rifles.

For these reasons, Manwell elected to permit any Kobani that volunteered to participate in the fight to disrupt the Krall opposition from deep behind their lines, while the PU army started their frontal assaults. This time, as a group, the hundred thirty four rippers that came with the New Dublin fleet, reminded their human comrades that being from Koban, sharing the genes the humans said made them Kobani, that the rippers were obviously Kobani as well. They didn’t ask to participate. They said they were going to do so.

The Kobani ships on the ground had become rallying points for the Krall, and when warriors ringed them with barricades, the ships could still blast and hold them at bay with lasers and plasma cannons. But with the encirclement, the Kobani crews had to be concerned for those teams already outside.

The single and four-ships could come and go at will, but the instant a launch bay opened, projectile fire started at them, and even rocks hurled from improvised catapults rattled off the hull and into the open bays. Sensors also detected vibrations from tunneling. Krall construction equipment didn’t have Denial chips in them, although they made useless assault equipment. It seemed that the enemy had decided to tunnel under the Kobani ships, either to attack from a direction the ship’s weapons couldn’t fire, to undermine the landing jacks to topple them, or as Sarge reminded them from Poldark, the enemy’s explosives and detonators didn’t require keypads.

Manwell elected to move his ships beyond the shrinking Krall lines. They had landed with tachyons in their Trap fields, so this could have been done smooth and quietly using Normal Space drive. Instead, most ships elected to use the conventional thruster engines for their heat and blast effects. The powerful exhaust plumes punched through some of the tunnels being dug, filling them with a deadly combination of heat and fumes.

Once the ships had relocated beyond the reach of the Krall, Manwell allowed his stealthed small ships to return and land teams where they could cause the most damage and create the most disruption to enemy plans.

Using suit stealth and stealthed equipment cases, it was a simple matter to steal explosives from enemy depots, located by Mind Taps of captured warriors. They would carry them unseen to where they wanted a nice crater. Get back a safe distance and send the detonation code, and watch the pretty debris and body parts fall back to earth.

The rippers, even though they had their Chameleon Skins for daytime stealth, elected to do their terrorizing in the darkest hours of the night. It had less to do with stealth ability than with the effects their marauding had on Krall nerves. Their flexible suits totally negated the IR vision ability of Krall eyesight, and the rippers could see quite well with the low levels of ambient light their night vision was adopted for using.

Krall hearing a warrior near them suddenly being dragged away, screaming in rage, pain, and fear, as unseen growls and snarls sounded loud and close, was unnerving. In a short time, each event was inevitably followed up with a nearby, ear damaging and blood-curdling roar of a victorious kill. Mangled remains would be found later, with organs missing. Such as hearts, lungs, and the Krall equivalent of liver and kidneys. Often, the moist and tender tongue was ripped out.

It seemed the rippers hated to waste an entire kill, but the rangy tough flesh with its fast clotting blood was too lean and dry for enjoyment or complete consumption, but organ meat was acceptable. It also provided the rippers the benefit of a suitably terrifying end for this kill-for-pleasure species, that when frilled before their deaths, their dark and twisted minds inevitably yielded their past enjoyment of slowly killing human soldiers or civilians they had captured alive.

The more heinous and greater the number of their crimes of genocide, the longer they were kept alive and sent mental images that terrified them, causing them to experience a fraction of the suffering of their own past victims. Despite this, the abnormal Krall thirst for causing pain and death exceeded even a ripper’s tolerance for inflicting it on them in return.

Nevertheless, after granting them a more merciful death than they probably deserved, the rippers often would arrange the corpse with dismembered limbs and exposed entrails, to suggest the agony had been more prolonged than the quick and more merciful deaths they had delivered to the Krall. The cats recognized the benefits of false advertising.

The distinction to a human Kobani, as to which deaths were less merciful, those rendered slowly by a Krall’s cruelty, or that which also came with the mental terror delivered from a rippers mind. It was a subject avoided by most Kobani.

Humans hadn’t been selected via survival advantages to be carnivorous predators, required to be indifferent to their prey’s desire to live, or by the nature of their superconductor nerves and a unique genetic mutation long ago, able to experience and even to desire the mental “taste” of their prey’s final thoughts and terrors.

The frilling ability had originally provided an obvious survival edge for rippers by solidifying their social structure, sharing a pride member’s memories and feelings, and learning hunting skills from experienced rippers. Then this mental ability, already of evolutionary benefit, was applied to a different purpose, to provide additional motivation for successful kills, to go beyond just that of the urges of personal hunger, generating an emotional inducement to persevere a bit longer in a difficult hunt, beyond the need to obtain a personal meal, by also craving the prey’s final thoughts. Not so coincidentally, this helped to feed more of your cubs, and made the macabre seeming mental enjoyment of sensing your prey’s dying thoughts and fears of some benefit to your species survival.

Gantor, and Krit, two wild pride young male cats came upon a sizable gathering of the red ones, perhaps thirty of them. They knew they were called Krall, because they had been hunting and stalking with several human pride rippers a short time ago. Their own mental description of this prey was the traditional image of these creatures from shared wild pride memories, which the cats raised with humans had not previously experienced.

They were far from the center of the region where their long hunt had begun, and they frilled what they each had scented and seen as they stalked and scouted this herd.

“The human pride’s not-live flying things…,” began Gantor.

“No,” Krit interrupted his thought stream. “We should use the true thought words, if we need to frill a human pride member about what we learn here. The flyers are called ships.”

“I was not going to speak of the ships, but of their departure last night. They are no longer close to send help if we attack so many. We can hunt a smaller herd, or wait for some of these to break away from the rest. These are normally predators and should behave like a pack, not like a herd. I do not think they will stay clustered so close, as if for safety.”

Krit wasn’t so sure. “The fear I scent isn’t that of hunters, but of the hunted.”

He explained why he thought this had happened. “Without their long distance fire sticks…, I mean their most dangerous guns, they have begun to behave more like prey animals, huddling together, moving where the human pride hunters push them. After two nights of ripper pride attacks, I can smell their fear of the coming darkness. They surely heard the roar of Kutter a short time ago. He must have made another kill after we parted from him and his pride mates. That was when the smell of fear drifted from this Krall herd.”

Gantor didn’t understand the Krall reaction. “They fear us more than the human pride hunters, yet many more Krall die from human attacks than from our pounces. The new non-pride humans of this world are said to be attacking now, and their numbers are too many to for me to count. The Krall should also fear them, but they do not.”

Krit was the deeper thinker of the two. “Humans do not eat this prey, or seek to instill terror in them as we do. These Krall animals, when acting as predators, do this to humans, and many of them think all humans still fear them. The pride humans do not, but they want these killers-for-pleasure stopped from having any future hunts. They find no enjoyment in this hunt, and they do not relish the fear they might taste from terrifying these wrong thinking former predators. Humans would go hungry on the savannas of home.”

Gantor countered. “At home they eat the prey from the herds they hunt, and share the organ meat with our pride. I think they do enjoy those hunts.”

Additional ripper philosophical discourse ended when a scream and a fresh scent of blood reached their noses, downwind of the Krall, which themselves had better noses than most prey. It was instantly recognizable as a human scream and human blood. Not a pride human’s blood, with a trace of ripper smell, but of a female human of this world.

****

Adrianna was going to die, and it was going to be horrible and lingering. The Krall sub leader that had snatched her from the wrecked cab of the supply truck she was driving had handled her roughly, retreating to a barricaded position under a small highway bridge in a canyon. This was close to the major highway where her convoy had been hit by a rockslide, triggered by explosives planted in the cliffs above the road.

The enemy had wanted power packs for the human made plasma rifles they had stolen earlier, from a platoon of troopers that had gotten careless, thinking Krall without armor and plasma rifles were not much of a threat. Their corpses, riddled by grenade pellets, would be a valuable lesson to the soldiers that stumbled on their remains.

One wounded trooper unfortunately survived, briefly, before suffering fatal complications from the process of being skinned alive for information, and for pleasure. He managed, between screams, to tell the octet leader why he and his dead platoon members were down to single replacement power packs for their rifles. The soldiers had gotten ahead of their supplies, and this platoon was scouting the area’s roads to try to locate some misdirected supply trucks, the latter caused by a last minute change in unit’s bivouac site by their unit commander.

Subsequently, the trucks were indeed met early, by the Krall. That was well before reaching the small mountain town, located at a crossroads where the larger PU army unit intended to spend the night, after unloading the fresh supplies.

The mortar tubes and their ammunition, which the Krall would very much have liked to have, was in the lead trucks, buried under too many tons of rock for the Krall to dig out by hand. Inexperienced at the art of ambush, versus head on assaults that they understood perfectly, the Krall warriors had used at least three times the amount of explosives required, and had brought half a mountainside down, right on the convoy, rather than merely blocking it for their concealed warriors to attack. They even buried half of their waiting warriors when they underestimated the results of their handiwork. Even so, there were several trucks with salvageable plasma rifles and power packs to loot, and food supplies, which except for fresh meat, was burned by the warriors.

The senior driver, Adrianna Boudreau, was so stunned by a blow to her suit’s helmet from a crushed cab roof that overlay her armor, that she recovered her senses too late to try to fight to the death, or to take her own life rather than be captured. In fact, it was the loud crack and flare of her alternate driver’s plasma rifle that had roused her. He’d assumed she’d been crushed, and he was pinned by the legs with no hope of avoiding capture by the charging Krall, so he removed his helmet and escaped that fate the only way he could.

Aside from an entertainment value, the human might know when and where another convoy would be coming, and she could surely tell them the destination of this convoy, and describe the forces that would be present there. Gathering intelligence and enjoying enemy weaknesses. That had been a favored warrior pastime in the field, from the war on Poldark, or for any war anywhere.

Hadthot twisted and pulled on the dented helmet to remove it roughly, disabling his prisoner’s communications. He’d been the leader of two hands of octets, but with their armor only a dead weight in combat now, they had all removed the bulky unpowered suits. That was the proximate cause of most of his warrior loses, when the huge rockslide swept across the wide road and crushed nearly half his force of sixty-four. Two more warriors were killed by some of the surviving pairs of drivers and he was now down to a command of thirty including three octet leaders, and he was number thirty-one.

Now, after losses, they had enough human plasma rifles for every surviving warrior, with seven spares, and enough salvaged power packs for most of them to carry eight replacements. The humans of course used their number system to measure how many maximum energy plasma bolts they could fire using their lighter weight power packs. The base ten number system humans used only gave them one hundred such shots per power pack. Krall rifles and their larger power packs would fire two hundred bolts in the Krall octal number system. That converted into a hundred twenty eight decimal shots for a warrior that stayed at full power for each bolt.

When using the human rifles, his warriors repeatedly used up the power packs earlier than they expected, counting instinctively in Krall numbers. That had cost him the two warriors that charged at the desperate human drivers that fought back. The two warriors didn’t have a replacement battery pack ready to swap, when the ones they were using were drained sooner than they anticipated. The bloodlines of the two dead novices were no loss to the species, but Hadthot needed all the fighters he could preserve when the masses of the human army tried to roll over them.

He roughly dragged the human by one armored sleeve as they ran away from the botched ambush. It was certain that some radio messages had been sent for help. With every one of the Krall single ships disabled, the unopposed navy space planes would eventually arrive to strafe and fire rockets at any enemy targets they could find near here. He led his diminished command back to a barricaded and concealed position, under a highway bridge of a side road a few miles away. There he could practice his interrogation methods, which had worked so well on the soldier from the platoon they had killed.

All of the warriors stayed under the overpass, to avoid their heat signatures from revealing them to aerial surveillance that they assumed would be sent over the general area. In anticipation of the entertainment, many of them faced inward, to watch as Hadthot sharpened his slender bladed skinning knife, doing it where the frightened prisoner, being held down, could see him. Her look of fear turning to terror.

He had plenty of time. They would stay concealed until it was fully dark, and the light was dimming faster in the mountain passes because the sun had already dropped below the distant horizon. Hadthot worked like an artist at his cruel trade when he had time. A luxury he didn’t have with the last soldier. This time he started by removing her armor, prying it open without using the powered release system.

He bared her arms first, as the easiest suit parts to remove. Then he used a heavier short sword to insert its tip in the jointed sections below her hips to pry apart the seams. He and the watchers enjoyed the look she gave the shining blade, afraid he was about to saw off her leg at the top. He wasn’t going to allow her to die from blood loss that quickly, he knew what he was doing from practice. He wedged the blade tip under a cylindrical plate where her suit rotated for the right leg near the hip, and twisted the blade to bend apart the metal. She squirmed, and tried to kick, but he used his weight to hold her legs down, and a warrior to hold her arms, placed in a sitting position so she could observe his progress.

He repeated the operation around the entire leg joint, severing control and sensor lines to the built in layer of the strange carbon fiber inner material, which amplified a human’s strength in these suits, like an extra layer of muscles.

He was on the verge of pulling the armor from her right leg when there was a huge bellowing roar from some large beast, and it reverberated along the canyon walls. The savage sound reflected even more under the overpass, reaching a painful intensity. The powerful deep notes of that cry of victory lasted long seconds. From their experiences of the last two nights, each of them knew that somewhere at least one warrior had just been killed. More than merely killed. Torn asunder, gutted, and partially eaten. The tingle of unfamiliar fear crept into the hearts and minds of each one of the warriors. It wasn’t to be reasoned with; it was triggered at an instinctive level, buried so deep in their primitive past and hindbrain that they didn’t even have stories of the things that once preyed on their smaller early ancestors, on that lost home world of Kratar.

The warriors at the outer edges looked outward and unconsciously pressed slightly deeper under the overpass, and all of them for an instant forgot their prisoner. Taking advantage, she broke free of the relaxed grip on her arms and, knowing she couldn’t escape, she pressed the suit’s torso release, and as the chest plate opened, she leaned forward, and grasped the hand with the short sword and tried to impale herself. She succeeded only in stabbing herself above her left side chest, almost in the hollow of her shoulder, because she couldn’t lean far enough forward or lift herself enough to run it through her own heart. The sub leader’s hand and thick muscled arm may as well have been made of rust tinged gray iron for all she was able to move it towards her body.

He snapped his head back around and lightly slapped her backhanded, causing her to fall back into the clutches of the warrior that had loosened his grip. Blood started to flow from the inch deep wound she had managed to inflict, but Hadthot’s experience with dismembering humans told him this was not a fatal wound, or even very serious. In anger, he snarled and yanked the loosened leg of her armor from her right leg, thus causing a long gash along her thigh from a sharp edge he’d not finished breaking free. She screamed.

Hadthot mimicked a sneering yellow-toothed imitation human smile he’d learned was hideous to his prisoners. He bent to remove the left leg of the suit, since the torso was opened at the front, releasing the leg. Her scream, when her thigh was gouged a moment ago, had again drawn the attention of the observing warriors, and they smelled her blood. The other suit leg was removed, and the suit’s open torso was pulled away and tossed clear, leaving only her uniform to cut away and the questions and skinning could begin. That marked the point at which the evening’s entertainment sharply shifted its focus.

From the opposite direction in the canyon, from the previous remote victory roar, came a differently but still deeply pitched roar that sounded like a challenge, loud and clearly very much closer. Roars such as this had to originate from deep within a massive chest, raging outwards through the beast’s powerful jaws.

Talons were instinctively extended and every rifle quickly powered on if previously on standby, and thirty-one warriors, talon tips poised inside trigger guards, watched and waited for any sign of movement in the brush and trees of the darkening narrow canyon, leading downhill from the even darker overpass. All eyes focused in the wrong direction, because of a survival instinct that overrode any military training.

Silently, a huge teal shaded killer rushed from concealment behind an abutment, his long black, steel hard claws fully retracted, to avoid any clicking on rocks and concrete. It rose up on hind legs, towering over the three closest warriors, facing away from imminent death, and with front claws suddenly extended several inches and huge jaws open. It literally tore the undersized heads from the heavy shoulders of its two outside victims, using simultaneous inward swipes of large paws, the slender necks tearing loose as the claws penetrated deep. The center victim’s head crunched slightly as the closing upper and lower fangs penetrated as the jaws descended over it, and a quick twist of the thick muscled neck tore the head free. Other than the crunch of bone, and tearing flesh, the three warriors made no sound. It was doubtful if they would have been heard by the others anyway, due to a repetition of the previous roar of challenge.

As the sound reverberated under the overpass again, the warriors strained harder to see what sounded so close to their front. Krit leaped onto another five warriors, tearing, ripping, slashing, and biting in a fury of speed that made his limbs and snapping jaws a blur, and he had yet to make so much as a snarl. This time he didn’t allow the corpses to simply drop. Instead, he flung the bodies forward into the center of the other warriors, as he used their resisting masses to propel his leap in reverse, racing to clear the underpass. He made his first sound just as he leaped to the side to use the abutment for cover. He uttered a victory roar, but on the run, he felt annoyed that it took away a bit of the power that he knew he could have put into that effort. He’d have to concede that Gantor’s roar had delivered more power, but his own effort, made from under the overpass, produced exactly the effect it was intended to have on the present herd-behavior of the Krall.

The rattled warriors, now realizing the attack was coming from the rear, turned in time to see numerous mangled dead warriors, many decapitated, and some had abdomens ripped open and were spilling intestines and lungs. Their bodies had been thrown forward hard, as Krit used them to push off as he left. They had tumbled into others that were alive, but by being knocked down and covered in gore, it made the carnage appear doubled.

The roar of that attacker as it departed drew all eyes to the rear flanks of a large four-legged creature that virtually glowed with IR heat, before it vanished around the edge of a bridge support. A crackling fusillade of plasma bolts blasted out from under the overpass in the same direction, and a large number of blinding actinic blue-white bolts shot out from under the bridge, glancing or splattering in brilliant sun hot sparks from the abutment or from rocks of the streambed. The Krall cautiously advanced towards where the beast had vanished, stepping over the dead, still afraid in their minds, but a monster seen is less fearful than one imagined.

The next Krall death was also silently accomplished, but it was followed by a slight whimpering sound shortly after that. Some of the warriors turned around at that sound, but only some of them did that this time. They did learn from their mistakes. Twelve of the twenty-two that were still alive continued to guard the direction in which the beast they saw had retreated mere seconds ago. Ten whirled to cover the downhill approach, from which the original roar had originated. That had obviously been a distraction. Now it was possible the departing roar had been another.

The roars, and the cracks of the plasma bolt weapons reverberating under the low bridge, had an effect on Krall hearing, and the hot, bright bolt flashes within the darker overpass had left lingering streaks for a short time in their vision. They immediately saw their twenty-third member, of the sixty-five they had started with yesterday, freshly dead. Hadthot, who had stayed with his torture victim, had been decapitated. His body was still slowly slumping down as muscle memory held him up, and his two hearts pumped rapidly clotting blood from the arteries in his neck. His head lay by his side, with a startled look frozen in his wide-open eyes. What they didn’t see was the prisoner, only her discarded pieces of armor.

The whimper they heard seemed more likely to have come from the human, but a careful examination, weapons at the ready as they searched along both openings of the overpass, revealed two unknown scent trails. A similar but different scent trail was found on each side of the overpass, apparently marking the paths of two different beasts. Another recognized scent trail, with visual identification, was verified by its bad taste as being human blood. It was an extremely fresh dripping line of blood leaving the underpass, which exactly coincided with the scent trail of the unseen second beast.

It had all happened fast, and the escape of a human, as slow as they were, was inexplicable. She should have been seen before getting clear of the streambed under the bridge. They could elect to follow the distinctive scent trails into the deepening darkness, with at least two large unknown killer beasts out there, to try to recapture the human, or leave her to be eaten by those same beasts.

The surviving octet leader decided the latter choice would be the more efficient course of action, and ordered the remaining warriors to collect the extra weapons and power packs, and they would rejoin the Krall forces closer to the Gatlek’s bunker, after daylight, sharing the better weapons with them.

****

Adrianna, knowing a terrible death awaited her, was as startled as the Krall were at the first roar. She had been posted on New Dublin for nearly a year and a half, and she didn’t know there were any predators like that here. Her armor removed, she was seated facing the sub leader when the second bass roar sounded, almost as if it were at the mouth of the overpass behind him. As one, they whirled to face the threat, the sub leader snatching up his rifle in favor of the short sword, which he sheathed. She didn’t see a way for this distraction to help her, because the warriors behind her could see any move she made.

The roar was repeated, and the Krall closest to the front crouched and aimed their weapons out towards the half-dark canyon seemingly nervous, as if not confident that a plasma bolt would be adequate for what they might face.

The echoing sound of the beast’s second deep base bellow was still ringing in her ears when she was bumped hard from behind, struck by a falling warrior. There was another roar, only now it seemed even closer, and it was behind her. It had a galvanizing effect on the warriors. They seemed to know they had been distracted from the real attack, and rushed towards the threat. She glanced back to see dead or dying Krall, headless or entrails hanging out as they died, bodies scattered about. A deafening clash of plasma bolt fire rang out under the bridge, nearly all the warriors having moved behind her now, leaving her ears ringing painfully.

Now she thought she might be able to make a run for it. She turned to judge the best path to take before rising, and saw why that idea was doomed to failure. The sub leader, looking over her head at what his warriors were firing at, would see her move. He had stayed back to keep possession of his plaything, even if concerned with the sudden attack. A ripple in the light from the reflected weapon flashes appeared in the air behind the sub leader. Too shocked to move, a huge dark form started rising from the smooth water worn stones of the streambed.

From thin air a hellish nightmare was appearing, rearing on massive hind legs, its front legs splayed up and out like arms, but headless. At least headless until, a kind of hood that had been invisible was tossed back, revealing the piercing glow of deep blue eyes that flashed with the reflected plasma fire. Then the previously dark maw of a set of jaws opened, revealing incisors longer than her hand. That mouth opened wide and descended swiftly over the sub leaders head, and closed with a crunch. It happened fast, but not before she saw the widening eyes of the sub leader, as the jaws descended.

As the Krall’s head came free, the beast sat back on it haunches and turned to the side, lowering its body to all, fours, and spitting out the bloody head. It sat wide-eyed next to the still standing corpse, which didn’t seem to know it was dead yet. The blue eyes blinked and gazed at her, and the glare from them softened.

As it quickly rose to all fours and moved towards her, she saw the folds of a cloak-like covering fall in drapes around its sides, partly concealing the front legs with invisibility, as if she could see through the creature. The broad blue shaded chest and massive head remained uncovered.

She realized it was wearing a type of flexible stealth camouflage. Except, now it was walking directly at her. Torn between stark fear, and the thought she clung to that my enemy’s enemy is my friend, she didn’t move. In fact, she didn’t think she was capable of movement at the moment.

It loomed over her seconds after killing the sub leader, and she broke her state of immobility to lift a hand in a futile effort to ward off this unstoppable force of nature. It lowered its head beyond her own, bringing its neck close to her forehead, where she pushed up to fend it off, only to touch a soft fur covered ring around the beast’s throat.

Then it said, “If you want to leave this place, hold around my neck, you must be fast.”

The words were almost Standard but overlaid with a feeling of urgency and an image of her arms gripping its neck, her legs raised and going around its waist. She wasn’t too stunned to realize she wasn’t about to lose her head, and this animal apparently had a controller who had sent it to rescue her.

She stretched her arms, and was just able to move her hands far enough around the curve of the thick neck to get an adequate grip. It required her to press her face against the animal’s fur and the soft ridge under its neck. She thought it smelled a bit unwashed and sweaty, and she had trouble lifting her legs to get a grip. The animal instantly lowered its rear haunches to let her do get her long legs up around its sides. It suddenly turned around end for end, and she was nearly thrown free. She let out a soft cry as she nearly slipped free, and grabbed some neck fur in her fists.

“Good. The prey has become hunters again, and will look this way. My head is exposed and they will see us if it is not covered. Hold strong.”

She saw an image in her mind of the animal bunching up its front shoulders and tossing its head sharply down, to throw the hood back into place. Forewarned, she wasn’t shaken free, although it was a near thing. She felt the sinuous movements of the powerful muscles as it walked carefully ahead.

Tell it to go faster, they’ll shoot us, she wanted to urge the controller. She was afraid to speak for fear the Krall would hear, and she didn’t know if the human in charge of the animal could hear her anyway.

“I am in control of myself, small human, and your smell is worse than mine, because I do not reek of fear. The covering is out of place and does not let me see out. If I make noise or disturb the ground by moving fast, the Krall pack will shoot their fire sticks where they know we are. This cover is not strong enough to protect us well. I must stalk slowly to stay hidden.”

The first comment got her attention. Small human? Why would the trainer say it like that? And why did he have trouble seeing?

Then, with the return of her normally competent mental process, with the prospect of being skinned alive not filling her mind, she wondered how she was hearing this. What was the source of the mental images she sensed so clearly? She must be imagining them.

“No. I send pictures to you. With human words I have learned.”

These thoughts, that she now comprehended wasn’t something that she was hearing, formed directly in her mind. It was a bizarre new technology.

“I cannot see how far from the cave I am. If they track our trail, we will be found. I do not want to leave you to their slaughter for pleasure. You can help me save you. If I lift my left leg a little, the cover will rise for you to see from under its edge, and the red ones will not see it happen.”

The slow steady walk paused, and she felt the thick left leg lift, and brush her shoulder and elbow. Suddenly the pitch darkness under the stealth covering was relieved by a small amount of residual twilight.

She had no idea the creature could see through her eyes via this mental connection. Until he said, “You are almost as blind in the night as I am under this covering. We have drifted farther from the bushes we need for concealment on the left side.”

Before he could raise his other leg, to check the right side of the dry stream’s bank, there was a soft sound of a breath to that side, followed by two quick pants.

Gantor promptly resumed walking for two body lengths, drifting farther right. Another breath and he halted. A paw extended from behind some bushes and made a brief contact with the metallic coating of the Chameleon Skin. This was enough for a flash of shared thoughts and images through the metal in contact with his frill.

Using Krit’s view of that side of the stream and the location of the underbrush, Gantor confidently used that transferred memory to walk deftly around the shrubbery hanging out over the streambed on his right, and behind that to reach enough concealment that he could toss back the annoying hood and see by the faint ambient sky glow. He then climbed gently up the bank, so that the weak human wouldn’t lose her grip.

He thought to her. “The moon is not up yet, so you will not see well. My pride mate Krit is with us. Release my waist and neck but keep a hand on the soft ring you feel there so we can share thoughts. Make no noise by trying to speak your words, think them only, because we are not far from the red ones.” The last was accompanied by a live image of the Krall moving around under the bridge, barely sixty feet away.

“They will smell us. We have to get farther away.” She thought back. All she knew was the Krall had great scent tracking skills, but in this case, she was preaching to a true expert.

Gantor reassured her. “They are not tracking us. Even if you cannot smell their stink, we can, because we are downwind with a good breeze, and they cannot smell us where they are. We will take you to where you can find the soldiers you were to meet before the red ones caught you.”

Surprised, she asked, “How do you know that, and where they are?”

She’d become aware of the second huge shape standing on the other side of her rescuer in the low light, and that both appeared to be large cat-like animals whose backs came up to her lower chest. A different set of thoughts replied to her speculation, and it had to be the animal pressed close to the other…, she decided to call them tigers, since overgrown blue tigers are what they brought to mind.

This one was smoother in his communications with her. “We know where you were going by two ways, Adrianna. Your mind does not know how to block what you think, even your name. You wanted to die without telling the Krall where you were going, but we sense your unguarded mind. We have smelled a large group of non-Kobani humans coming closer, for more than a full day. That is the only herd you could join so we will go there. When you are close to them, we will part from you because they will be afraid of us, even though the human pride told them we were with them. The Kobani call my people rippers. A good name, I think, but it causes fear in humans that do not know us. ”

She latched on to a word he’d thought twice, that produced a mental image of a strong connection. “You know of the Kobani. Are you another alien race they met?”

The amusement she sensed came from both animals, which had formed a multiple mental connection with her mind. “They came to our world and gave it a new name. They say it is Koban, yet we only think of it as Home. They live there now and some of our former pride cousins live with them, and they form what your people call families. Gantor and I are from a pride that is a friend of humans, but we are not part of any of their prides.”

There was a flash image of Krall movement just outside the cover of the overpass. “It is not safe for you so close to this enemy. We can learn of each other as we travel. Climb onto my back and hold the fur at my neck. You can’t do that while Gantor wears the human made stealth cover.”

“You don’t have a stealth cover?”

“I did, it was hard to see out, and after I removed it, it would not fit me properly again, so I no longer carry mine.”

Gantor added, “I wore mine with the head cover back. Without this cover, you would be dead. I could have escaped them after my attack, but I could not carry you fast enough and unseen.”

With humor evident, he said, “They looked right at my rear, and saw all the way to the other side.” Describing the effect of Chameleon Skins.

She climbed onto Krit’s back. “I thank you Gantor and Krit for my life. I will repay your favors.”

“Belly rubs are nice.” Gantor said, before separating and scouting the trail ahead. The three moved quietly away from the bridge, growing acquainted.

****

A few days later, Chief Haveram was pleased, of course, but shocked at how rapidly this powerful Krall invasion force was being turned into a retreating, hand weapons wielding force. Except for being here in greater numbers, they now fought much the same way as early raiders of individual cities had once done, able to terrify an unprepared human population when the war started, provoking the Hub government to respond and rearm. That type of raider force wasn’t a match for the heavily armed and armored human forces of today, which as recently as three days ago couldn’t significantly slow the heavily armed and armored Krall down, not when their physical advantages were added into the technology mix.

Starting this week, with the limited technology they now had to use, the advantage lay almost entirely with humans and their far greater numbers. The physical advantages of Krall warriors was no longer the deciding factor when faced with waves of heavily armed and armored soldiers. Not when each unarmored warrior with only a short-range projectile weapon, carrying limited ammunition, had to face down ten armored soldiers carrying longer-range high-powered plasma rifles, supported by mobile laser weapons, tanks, ladybugs, space planes, and artillery.

As General Nabarone quipped for public consumption and morale building, mangling an old aphorism along the way, “It looks like the massacre is on the other foot now.”

Haveram was referring to Nabarone’s optimistic assessment for Poldark, but thought New Dublin was in a different category. Better off, in fact.

“Howard, I was included in Henry’s Comtap links of what’s been happening on Poldark, and although the war is swinging the army’s way there, it isn’t happening as rapidly there as it is here, even though he has a much larger and more experienced fighting force.”

“Chief, how many thousands of square miles did the Krall occupy at New Dublin? Compared to over three million square miles they held on Poldark, located on a continent that only had four and a half million square miles total. This is only a foothold on New Dublin, but on Poldark, they had us in a headlock, with our armies being pushed towards the sea on three sides, and a small land bottle neck to eventually use to escape to the connected continent.”

“Sure, but Telour sent nearly as many Krall here, and they brought a higher percentage of heavy weapons to establish themselves.”

“Right, but more warriors and weapons in a far smaller area produces a more densely populated battlefield. Where does an unstoppable software infection have the best chance to spread the most rapidly?”

“Point made. I guess Manwell’s strategy worked out well. Tricking the Krall into thinking their side had sprung a trap on the navy.”

Caldwell acknowledged a clever plan. “That stunt got a lot of missiles with Denial chips close to densely packed clanships on the ground in the first two salvoes. Navy missiles that inexplicably missed their landing supply ship targets, then the ambushing Krall fleet, with their missiles that also just missed the trapped navy ships. Having a smaller surface area in which to find the bulk of parked clanships helped us tremendously. Pendor put the thickest concentration in the occupied area’s center, and mostly his own clan’s ships. By the time the Kobani fleet and the navy launched the third and fourth waves of missiles, they couldn’t really stop them, not with the defensive middle disabled.”

“I sure as hell wouldn’t have considered that strategy Howard. Not with my recollection of Poldark’s wide-open spaces and mountains surrounding the spread out Krall. I can’t call what our shooters were doing a sniper action here. They only had to get a slug with a chip close to four or five targets to shut them down. The spec ops fly bots were all over the place. Even the rippers, with their Chameleon Skins, found an area between the active fronts and the central defensive ring to run around and disable rifles, suits, Dragons, and anything else they spotted that still functioned. I hear they enjoy racing behind a defensive line of Krall, who are armed with projectile pistols and rifles, and roar as they go, just before General Masterfem’s troops start a charge.”

Howard shook his head. “I never thought a Krall could be rattled that way. I guess they don’t like the idea of some bigger badder unseen predator chewing on their asses. The rippers left plenty of examples around to be found, particularly after a Krall got too close to hitting one of them or spotted them despite their Chamie Skins.

“Even with the ground teams spreading the Denial chips, the key to it all was the initial strategy that made it come together so well.”

Haveram, shrugged. “I’ve known and observed Tet a lot longer than you folks have, but his style of oblique thinking never took with me. I just can’t think that way. You have to have an aptitude to think like that, I suppose, and Manwell apparently has learned how.”

Nodding, Howard spread the credit a bit. “Manwell had the basic idea, after observing the concentrated Krall dispositions, but I think it was really Commander Molotov who added the finishing touches. Manwell described what he wanted the navy to try to do with his first wave of arrivals, and for their missiles set to miss and dive unexpectedly on ground targets.

“Then he would have let the other Kobani ships come in and put a cap over the Krall territory, as Greeves did at Poldark. Molotov was gutsy enough to let a Kobani fleet, a people her Commander in Chief had offered up to Telour as a sacrifice last month, to suddenly White Out in her squadron’s six O’clock position, and let them launch thousands of missiles her way.”

“Yea? I didn’t know that was her idea. It worked great. Now we have captured nearly another five hundred clanships for the Kobani fleet. Minus the ten or twelve, which Manwell’s ships and the navy had to destroy. Hot damn, we have over three thousand already, and Jorl Breaker picked up another twenty or so at the first Krall world his group of fifty raided.”

“Now you can trade in this smuggler’s ship for something with real armament and cargo space, Chief.”

“Give up the Falcon? No way in Hell!” He shook his head sharply.

“Besides, I don’t go into ports where I need heavy weapons or face criminals with warships, even though I have a few big guns mounted on the Falcon now, concealed so they aren’t noticeable. A former clanship would hold more goods than the Falcon, that’s true, but it wouldn’t let me travel unobtrusively, or give me human designed engines that I can tinker with when I want.

“It’s the art of making a deal that makes my ports of call interesting, not the chance of a space battle. I like mixing with the spaceport locals as one of them. Eventually, former clanships will be used as civil transports in Human Space I think, but it would mark the captain and crew as Kobani, and dangerous to mess with if you’re a crook. The black market dealers would avoid me. Anyone can haul freight back to Koban for me if it’s too much for the Falcon to carry. But that would be after I dealt with some deeply shady types, who frequently try to rob and kill me, just to acquire the untraceable precious metals and jewels that I carry for payment.

“If I get too much business competition while supplying Koban with all the other new ships around, I’m sure Poldark, New Dublin, Bollovstic, and a restored Greater West Africa will want to rebuild and repopulate. I know where to get good quality goods for the cheapest price, or where to get things that ain’t exactly legal in the PU, and I don’t mean drugs or the like. The Hub worlds still hold most of the manufacturing rights for goods the Rim worlds need and can’t afford to buy at Hub prices very often, holding them back. There are back channel suppliers of unlicensed goods and equipment, and sometimes things that someone on the wrong side of the law helped fall off a truck. No reason a buyer like me can’t deliver them to Rim worlds at the discounted price plus a transport fee. I’m taking a long haul approach. I plan to serve the hungry fledgling colonies that’ll settle in the Krall territory after we have those planets secured and safe. The Raspani, Prada and Torki will trust me to deal fair, and the new human settlements will learn to trust me.”

“Those colonies might not start for twenty damned years or more, Chief.”

“I think some will come sooner than that, but if not, so what? You have the same long life Prada mod I do, Howie my boy, if not yet the youthful appearance and good looks. Nanites can’t help you on the looks, you either got ‘em or you don’t. How about forming a post-war partnership with me? I can getcha a good deal on a used, roomy, heavily armed cargo ship. Even with hard use, they last about a thousand years between rebuilds.”

Chapter 5: The Pursuit

The nine clanships of Telour’s small force completed a somewhat ragged White Out over the soft Krall prison planet. It was just over a four thousand light year Jump from K1, so they arrived within several minutes of one another, the small quantum uncertainties altering their arrival times after greater than three weeks in the Hole. Visitors here were rare, and the Tanga clan, which guarded the Krall’tapi, did not maintain an orbital watch.

Only leaders of the Great clans knew of this world’s location, and of the other system, a three day’s Jump from here, where the Olt’kitapi had once planned to build their first gigantic artificial habitat, a Dyson Swarm of planetary diameter constructs. That system, with its rich supply of giant planets to use for building materials, and a small red star, offered a hundred billion years of solar stability for the multitude of species the Olt’kitapi had envisioned as eventually being invited to live there.

That was where their growing fleet of Dismantler ships had been parked, preparing to start the great construction project. That was when the original version of the Krall species had seen the destructive potential of the powerful gravitation manipulating craft. Their ambition to control this technology, and to halt the modification of a segment of their species by the Olt’kitapi, was what had finally triggered the revolt the warrior race had been planning for over a thousand years. They intended to continue to evolve in a deliberate manner by their own choices, to become the scourge of the galaxy, and over the course of enough time, to conquer the entire galaxy. These were grand plans by what were, after all, space borne barbarians with borrowed and stolen technology, following what they called the Great Path. The Path of their own evolution, and built via enslaving or killing any species they met and taking their worlds, and their war making technology.

Now the newest species, which the Krall had engaged in another war of extinction, was on the verge of knocking them off the Great Path. Telour knew what he had observed on Telda Ka potentially spelled the end for every Krall clan, if they were sent back to using only the technology they’d held before meeting the Olt’kitapi. They weren’t even prepared to conduct a war like that.

By continuing to build the same weapons designed by their former benefactors, using the same style replicated factories, and employing the identical quantum coded keys that had denied other species the use and understanding of their war machines, the Krall leadership had made a similar mistake as had the Olt’kitapi. They came to rely too much on their stolen technology to hold an advantage over other non-warlike species. Combined with their slowly developing physical advantages, that technology had made them unstoppable. They had even turned over the manufacturing of their weapons to slaves. Their K’Tal no longer learned how to invent or create new things, only how to use what they had or acquired. As a species, they focused only on how to master combat.

They had forced this formerly aggressive, more adaptable young species, to find a way to speed up their evolution and somehow produce fighters that were superior to an individual Krall in only a single generation or two. Now, with the cooperation of some freed slaves, they had learned how to deny the Krall the use of their traditional weapons of war. Telour reasoned that if he could hit humans hard enough one more time, that this enemy could be held at bay while new weapons of war were built. Weapons without quantum codes keys to restrict their use.

He frankly didn’t know how the quantum code system worked, and none of the K’Tals he questioned had ever learned how their tattoos interacted with the keypads, and with other modules inside their smaller weapons. Nevertheless, humans made weapons that didn’t use such technology, and so had the early Krall for that matter. Therefore, the Prada and Torki could be made to do it for the Krall. All he needed was time, and he would destroy the small band of humans that had found the unsuspected weakness in Krall war making capability. It all could be corrected. He would force humanity to pause their attacks while new ships and weapons were built, and billions of eggs hatched, to produce overwhelming swarms of warriors.

He wanted all of the remaining death ships for his purpose, so the first step was to collect soft Krall pilots. Telour, with his new insight, recognized how this too had ultimately made the Krall weaker, depending on the Olt’kitapi’s last great technological accomplishment, and on the older version of the Krall race that the ancients had somehow modified.

He believed this weakness would vanish, when the last three ships quit functioning after his rampage of planetary destruction ended. Following that, there would be no need to preserve the soft Krall, or any of the soon to be useless ancient ships. He would destroy them, and turn his attention on rebuilding, to defeat humanity.

Tanga may not have had clanships in orbit, but they were prompt in launching ten of them to challenge the nine arrivals, and sent a broadcasted demand.

“I’m sub leader Jandol, of Tanga clan, commander of this outpost. Identify yourself.”

“I am Tor Gatrol Telour and I recognize you. We met an orbit ago when I was sent to inspect the compound as Til Gatrol, when Parkoda was commander here.”

The lips tightened on the image in the view screen. Telour’s last visit was not a pleasant one, and Jandol was unlikely ever to forget a single humiliating second of the visit.

“Parkoda never returned after he left with you.” It wasn’t quite an accusation, and he’d left out the honorific of Tor in his reply.

“He was free to return here, but he was still at Graka’s clanship production factory when human raiders attacked there. I presume he died honorably fighting the attackers, as did many of my clan mates.”

This placating story was true, as far as Telour told it, but omitted the detail that Parkoda was deliberately stranded on the Graka clan world, hoping that he would be replaced as commander here before he could return. It didn’t sound like the new commandant was overly thrilled to see the indirect cause of his promotion return.

“Tor Telour, your own representatives were here less than a quarter of an orbit ago for selecting a pilot for a living ship. He did not return and he was presumed killed. A courier that passed through here said it was a successful mission with two human worlds destroyed, but the living ship was lost. The soft Krall’s family was informed, and his family released unharmed as honor required. Are you here to verify that?”

“No, and I have not returned for an inspection.” He wanted fast cooperation, so he did some placating.

“As Parkoda’s chief sub leader, I know that you actually were the one that ran the camp so efficiently, and you rightfully earned your promotion after Parkoda was killed in combat. I have come to select six additional soft Krall pilots for a vital attack on human worlds. Our Worthy Enemy has counter attacked Telda Ka again, despite the destruction of two worlds intended to teach them a lesson.

“We will destroy their home world this time and as many heavily populated Hub worlds as possible, using all three of the remaining ships. I have re-named them as death ships, and not living ships, to describe their actual use in our wars. The new Joint Council dome was again attacked, and only a few hands of the surviving clan leaders are with me on the ships I brought. We will chose pilots quickly with your help, and then depart.

“When this triple death ship mission is completed, you and your command will be permitted to join the fight against humanity and leave this remote outpost, leaving its inhabitants and their dome a smoking ruin. Your status will be elevated for this service, and mentioned in our histories.”

That stirred more than a semblance of interest and fervor in Jandol, even if it was purchased. Telour saw no need to concern him about the status point reward he would receive, despite the fact that the Tor’s own status was greatly diminished by the loss of so much of the fleet, and the possible fall of Telda Ka. Every clan had a share in losing such an enormous amount of status, and as in any time of shortage, what status anyone retained had a greater value, and the Tor had more to share.

“We will be honored to escort you to the dome for pilot selection, my Tor.”

“That would be efficient.” At least this stop would be delay free.

This is starting out right, thought Telour.

****

Humanity once used a simple and basic name convention for natural satellites orbiting a planet. Such satellites were always called a moon. If a lifeless satellite was orbiting a giant planet, even if that satellite was Earth sized, it was still called a moon.

Then when it was discovered that two gas giant planets in the Sol system had a few satellites that supported primitive life in their watery depths, a new naming convention was established, to distinguish those satellites from their lifeless brethren. Life-bearing satellites were thereafter called a planetoon, and they received special protections from exploitation and visitation to avoid contamination. If a planetoon in turn had a satellite, it was called a moony, even though none was found in the Sol system.

A planetoon and moony combination was a relatively rare system, and they only happened where the small satellite was within what is known as the planetoon’s gravitational Hill sphere. That term was defined by an American astronomer named George William Hill. It meant the planetoon’s gravity dominated the moony’s orbit more than did the more distant Jovian. Exactly the same principle applied to the Jovian, when its gravitational attraction for the planetoon dominated its orbit versus the more distant star’s attraction, meaning that the planetoon was inside the Jovian’s Hill sphere.

The system the Olt’kitapi had selected for construction of their Dyson Swarm habitats coincidentally contained a planetoon and moony pair.

****

This doesn’t look right, Telour thought when his clanship performed its White Out near an airless moony at the prescribed standoff distance in the stellar system where the Olt’kitapi ships had originally been found parked. He made the week long Jump from the soft Krall prison world with a single clanship, per the millennia old protocol for such visits. But where were the Guardians that should have been here to challenge him within seconds?

There were no transmissions made to them, or even a sign of Guardian ships, which were always stationed on, or near this moony. Some of the Guardian clanships normally orbited the large rocky and habitable planetoon, which also held the moony in its gravitational grip. The planetoon was itself the largest satellite of many dozens of moons that swung around a super Jovian gas giant, but it wasn’t an airless world, and was of course not lifeless.

He didn’t know the exact number of ships or Guardians normally posted here, but on his previous visit, Telour’s craft had been met in space by sixteen clanships, and there were four hands of clanships parked next to the dome on the airless moony. Even more clanships were parked near the dome on the larger planetoon.

His clanship had been instructed to land on this moony previously, after an inspection out here in space under the distrustful guns of the Guardians. Once on the moony he and the few warriors he was allowed to select to accompany him (Parkoda had been forced to come along for further humiliation), were shuttled down to the parent planetoon, to land inside an extinct volcanic crater, close to the row of parked Olt’kitapi ships. Guardians were already inside the ship he was to inspect, armed against any possible attempt to take one of the powerful ships without authorization.

There were no clanships near the dome on the moony this time, and there was no reply to his repeated attempts at radio contact. It was impossible to follow the protocol if the Guardians didn’t participate. Before leaving the vicinity of the moony, he had his navigator and weapons master perform active scans of the near vicinity around the rocky planetoon, and then farther out, millions of miles along the orbit around the gas behemoth that dominated the sky.

There were two other large moons detected but no clanships sighted. After many impatient minutes, there was no reply from the large dome on the planetoon. They were barely seventy thousand miles away, but the small moony was presently on the wrong side of the parent world to see that dome.

He ordered his navigator to accelerate and leave the airless moony behind, moving ahead in its same orbit, maintaining their present distance from the world below. Soon, they were positioned between the planetoon and the more distant monster gas world. The scar of the large volcanic crater was visible below them. There were sixty-four clanships parked on the tarmac around the dome, something they were able to see as soon as they came around the limb of the world.

There still were no replies to their communication attempts. Telour made a broadcast in which he identified himself as the Tor Gatrol, and stated his intentions to land at the dome.

His weapons master spoke his concerns. “My Tor, this is strange. Should I activate our tracking radar for defensive missile launches?”

“No. The Guardians might take that as a sign of a rogue clan that is attempting to take unauthorized possession of the death ships. We could never successfully defend against all of their combined weapons. Nevertheless, heat our plasma chambers, and leave the automatic laser defenses active. Do not open any weapons ports, which would look threatening.”

The navigator had a suggestion. “My Tor, I can hold an energetic tachyon, in case you order a Jump away from here. We can descend on Normal Space drive, without a thruster plume forming a blind spot for our sensors below us.”

“I approve of the precautions, but when we reach atmosphere we can’t form a Jump Hole that deep in the gravity well. I don’t know of a reason for the Guardians to attack us, or to ignore us as they have. Their sole duty is to preserve these weapons for use by the appointed war leaders of the Krall. I was that war leader when the previous ship was used. It may be that they did not anticipate another use of these ships for several thousand years. It has never happened before so soon. If they have become lax in their duty, they will be replaced.”

He realized how hollow that threat was. If I use the remaining ships, the Guardian’s purpose no longer exists. They may resist being disbanded, as if they were an established clan.

To his weapons master and navigator, he instructed, “Watch for any activity that appears hostile, such as a clanship opening their firing ports, or if you detect heat buildup on the hulls over the plasma chambers of the parked clanships. Be ready to return fire as we move away at maximum acceleration.”

They were prepared for an attack, but nothing marred their landing where Telour ordered, at an isolated spot well apart from the other ships on the tarmac. There were still no signs of activity.

The sixty-four escort warriors he had expected to leave behind on the moony now formed a large honor guard for him. The six soft Krall he brought were locked up and kept apart, wearing shackles, with four warriors guarding each of them, per protocol if they had landed on the moony. His aides and other clan leaders remained as well.

The honor guard, carrying arms, which definitely wasn’t according to standard protocol, lined up on each side of the deployed ramp, and fell in behind Telour as he passed them, to form a double rank following in trail. The Guardians had broken with protocol, and he wasn’t walking into the dome unarmed. He carried pistols on each hip, since toting a plasma rifle took away the smooth, arms free fast stride of confidence and authority he was projecting.

Proceeding at a fast pace, but slower than the typical run, Telour thought it leant him dignity, by his making an obviously unconcerned approach to the dome. To some, this might indicate the opposite, by uncharacteristically displaying a false lack of concern in circumstances that surely seemed to warrant a level of uncertainty.

When they arrived at the dome, the personnel entry doors on this side were closed, but not secured. A twist of the door handles and the lead warriors opened several easily. An octet rushed through each open door, weapons off standby, but held in a cross-chest carry that showed them to be prepared, but not seeking targets. Telour entered the center of the three doors with the remainder of his honor guard. There was no one to be seen, and except for the faint sounds of air processing and the vague sounds that a powered dome always made, there was no sign of the Guardians.

Telour sent two octets of warriors to spread out and check out the central hall, the exercise level, and the watch standers consoles under the armored glass roof of the top level. The com set reports arrived in minutes. There were was no one in the dome, and nothing looked out of place.

“Pilot,” He called back to the ship. “Prepare my shuttle. We will visit the death ships.” They had been visible along the worn crater rim as they landed, almost three miles from the dome. He wasn’t taking any of the soft ones along with him just yet. He intended to see if he could gain entry on his own, as he had done when accompanied by Guardians over a year ago when he visited. He knew the Guardians had no special access rights to the ships over any other Krall.

Not even a Guardian could order one of the ships AI’s to do anything. Doors and air locks opened automatically when any Krall approached one of the active ships. Only a soft one could order doors to lock, could regulate the temperature of a compartment, ask the ship to reconfigure a compartment’s walls and doorways, or to instruct the ship to prepare for departure.

He elected to take only one shuttle, with room for an octet to fly with him and the pilot. The other shuttle would bring the soft Krall and guards if he sent for them. He had brought two operators per death ship, in the event one had to be killed as an object lesson for the other. He would solve the puzzle of the absent guardians later. His first priority was to see if he could enter each of the three ships, and then he’d have the prisoners brought to him, along with the aides he would use to crew the death ships, and at least two octets of warriors per ship. This time he intended to travel on one of the ships himself. The rest of his honor guard he sent towards the row of parked ships since it was only a three-mile run. He estimated he would pass them in the shuttle just before they arrived.

He directed the pilot to land closest to the left most of the three operational ships at the right end of the line of ships. The empty space to the left of the one he chose marked the place where the lost Huwayla had been parked for millennia.

There was a depression several feet deep, left behind in the accumulated red dust and dirt covering the underlying layer of ancient dark gray basalt. It was ringed with a kind of red-brown grass that covered most of the crater floor, and had not yet grown down the recently exposed low slope. Telour had never known that the ship from that slot had a name, and as customary for a Krall, he didn’t care what a machine might think it had been named by its dead makers.

Every Krall had been selectively bred to be ambidextrous, but retained a slight preference for their left hands, and they had used the ships in a systematic fashion, selecting them from the left end of the line, moving to the right. There were other gaps in the line, but there were still eleven ships present, of which eight were considered aware and alive. Only the last three would interact with a visitor by opening automatically as they approached, and would respond to a soft Krall’s instructions, as verified by periodic testing after each hundred orbits had passed.

Telour’s escort octet filed out first, and stood four to each side as he made his exit, followed by the pilot. He strode purposefully towards the left one of the two main entrances, one placed at the center of each side, anticipating a tongue like ramp to extrude as he neared. The outer airlock door should iris open for him as he stepped onto the ramp. He abruptly stopped as he reached the point where he remembered where the ramp of the other ship he’d entered had extended.

There was none of the odd movement of the hull material, which he recalled from before as the ramp prepared to extrude. He moved closer, but to the side of where the ramp should extend. There was no reaction.

“Ship. Open for me, I wish to enter.”

No reaction. He ordered one of his escorts to walk directly towards the center of the oval of the large airlock hatch. If the ramp suddenly extended and he was unable to avoid injury, there were other warriors present. No ramp appeared and the hatch didn’t open.

“Try the smaller airlocks at ground level.” The warriors ran the length of the ship to where smaller oval shapes identified other personnel airlocks of two different size scales. None of them reacted, even to efforts to push at them.

“To the other side.” He led his troops to what he thought of as the right side, although he’d been told there was really no front or stern for these ships, so left and right was a matter of personal orientation. The main hatch on that side, and the multiple smaller hatches, stubbornly stayed completely inert.

As he started running towards the next ship in line, the first of his honor guards were arriving from their speedy run across the grassy floor of the old crater. Without question, like ants, they followed their Tor as he ran towards the side of the next ship. It didn’t react.

He called a conference with his octet leaders and his pilot. “This may be why the Guardians are not here, if the ships are no longer responsive. What knowledge do any of you have of the code of behavior for a Guardian? I would expect them to remain until relieved, but they have their own guide for their duties here, outside of their own clans.”

One of his aides spoke up. “My Tor, a clan mate of my own training cycle earned high status in the invasion of the place humans called Bollovstic, and was selected for the honor of being a Tanga clan representative to the Guardians. They would not shirk their duty to guard our greatest weapons. He returned after half a breeding cycle to breed, and returned to combat on Poldark as a sub leader. He is on New Dublin now. He was not allowed to speak of his duties here, but was even more faithful and energetic in following orders after he returned. I don’t think the Guardians would leave this technology unprotected, even if it did not work properly.”

There was an agreement on this matter, that the lack of response from the ships was not why the Guardians were absent. Telour gave voice to the only reason the Guardians would accept for leaving. “If the Joint Council sent them orders they would leave, but only after the commander verified the council’s order in person. As Tor Gatrol, I could not order them to go, and we know the Joint Council issued no such order. We have still not solved that mystery, and I must leave it for later. Now one octet,” he pointed to an octet leader, “will complete the check of the hatches on other side of this second ship, and I will go to the last ship in the line.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d do if that one wouldn’t open either, but he definitely wasn’t leaving without getting inside at least one of them, by whatever means necessary.

In the absence of Prada slaves there was no ground maintenance performed here, but the low growing brown and red grass analogue covered most of the miles of wide open plains in the vast old crater, with only low orange tinged shrubs visible, many growing along the edge of a shallow streambed. The currently dry and meandering cut exposed the red soil down to the underlying gray basalt, and it passed between the final two ships, but closer to the last one. Telour leaped over the narrow dry stream followed by all but the octet he’d left checking the previous ship. There was a narrow twenty-foot gap between the stream and short shrubs, and Telour was racing along a slightly worn path to reach mid ship, to test the main hatch.

He reacted instantly with a leap to the side, and drew a pistol at a sudden movement on his right. His warriors reacted by leveling their plasma rifles at the same movement through the grass that their leader had seen.

With a snort of amusement, Telour holstered his pistol and felt a sense of relief. What had produced the movement in the grass was a small ramp, being extruded from the base of one of the smaller airlocks that were spaced along the oddly shaped, round ended hull.

His pilot displayed his own sense of relief. “My Tor, this ship is responsive to our passing. Will you enter here?”

“The ship will not guide me to the command center without a soft one to speak for us, and the insides of ships can be configured differently by past occupants. I know the way to get to the command deck from either of the two large airlocks, using the wide main corridors. I’ll enter there to let my memory lead us.”

He ran even faster to reach the main airlock and angled away from the ship before turning to walk directly at the hatch. The large ramp didn’t extrude, not even when he was so close he’d be in the way of its full deployment. It had occurred to him the ramp would never strike anyone, because the Olt’kitapi would never build a ship that would allow that to happen. He walked to the base of the hatch, almost at eye level, and banged his closed fist on it hard enough to hurt. It made a dull thump.

Clearly angry and frustrated now, he stalked the two hundred feet back to the smaller hatch. The ramp had automatically retracted after the last warrior followed their leader away. As Telour approached, the ramp again was extruded, forming from hull material that flowed to the place where it grew out to form a four-foot wide ramp, twice that in length. With the ship so settled into the shallow layer of red volcanic soil, the base of the ramp barely cleared the grass at the side of the ship.

Telour stepped onto the ramp, and the outer door irised open with hardly a sound. The airlock compartment was relatively small, and unlike the main airlock, the inner hatch on this one was not transparent. You couldn’t see where the airlock led. Judging the size of the airlock chamber, Telour called a hand of warriors forward, to crowd into the small compartment ahead of him. To his other warriors he said, “Cycle through five at a time after we are clear. When you step on the ramp, the outer hatch should open automatically after we exit the airlock on the inside.”

He entered behind the four warriors pressed close ahead of him. He was seeking some way to activate the airlock cycle, when the outer hatch suddenly spiraled inward and sealed behind him. Surprisingly, there was still outside light coming from behind them. From this side, the door was amazingly transparent, or it had turned that way for both sides. But, it didn’t seem from the peering eyes of those outside, that they could see Telour looking back at them.

Again, Telour looked for a control panel of some sort, when he noticed differently scented air had cycled into the compartment. The uplifted muzzles of the hand of warriors were also checking the new smells. It proved harmless and the oxygen level actually improved greatly, from the slightly low fifteen percent oxygen of the outside air, to double that level in here. The planet’s air had contained limited odors, with little variation in the life so far observed, of simple plants and a few insects they had seen, and no animals.

The new air was a total surprise to Telour. He’d expected the intriguing rich smells he’d experienced on his other forays into the previous ship. Those scents, he was informed, were believed to be like those of the original Krall home world, Kratos. This was entirely different.

For one thing, aside from double the oxygen content, there was something exotic, yet familiar about the smells of plants and animals that his sensitive nose picked up. He remembered odors like this, from more than a breeding cycle ago. It smelled like Koban!

The inner airlock door swept open from the middle, and the lead warriors stepped into the corridor thus revealed, just as another door irised closed at the other end. However, it didn’t fully close before they saw a hand and a small pistol pull back as the shrinking circle in the center of the door spiraled closed. It was a human sized hand in an armored gauntlet. There had been a series of phhitt sounds, of slender projectiles passing through the air. The needle gun had launched a large number of slivers as the airlock hatch had spiraled open and that other hatch closed.

The four warriors snarled swiping at their faces and necks and charged forward, lowering their rifles to fire. The two in back shoving their rifle barrels forward enough not to burn their clan mates in the lead. Set for full automatic and maximum energy, they squeezed their triggers, intending to blast their way through the flimsy looking door.

Unexpectedly, they smashed into the slightly yielding door and each other, when their rifles failed to fire. Without an instant of hesitation, despite these warriors never having encountered a door like this, one of them jammed his thick rifle barrel hard at the place in the center, where the door had closed off that last circle of light. With a scream of fierce triumph, his weapon forced its way through the flexible material. That joy was short lived, when the butt of the weapon abruptly slammed back into his lower torso, knocking him back with a grunt of pain, and the bent barrel was shoved back through to their side of the door.

The second Krall in the front pushed two taloned fingers through the same center point to force an opening. He was using his strength to stretch the flexible material aside, and trying to push his other hand through the gap. Suddenly, he snarled in pain and drew back his hands, revealing one was missing two fingertips, sliced cleanly through the bone.

Telour, who was certain this trap had been set for him, reversed into the airlock and was going to let his four warriors hold back the enemy while he rejoined the larger force outside. He stepped clear of the inner hatch and waited for it to cycle closed, enabling the outer door to open. It wasn’t cycling, and looking through the transparent outer door, he didn’t see the safety and reinforcements out there that he’d expected.

Instead, his warriors outside had been ambushed and were in a heavy firefight, crouched down in two wide semicircles around the airlock and ramp their leader had used to enter. The front rank was prone and firing in two directions, the inner rank was crouching and firing over them, towards forward and aft. Plasma blasted bodies of many warriors, farther from the airlock, proved how quickly and deadly things had turned outside. Over a dozen warriors were dead or incapacitated, and those defending the airlock were dropping steadily. They were originally told by Telour they would stay behind in the dome on the moony under the eyes of Guardians. When they reached the planetoon with no sign of Guardians, they hadn’t donned their armor, expecting that act to be viewed as a hostile if the mysteriously unresponsive Guardians were watching.

The first assumption Telour made was that the Guardians might have taken control of the great ships. Except, for them to wait until he entered a ship made no sense. Besides, it was a human hand they’d seen at the other door. At least those outside still had plasma rifles that worked, which the four warriors with him did not. Turning to see how the protectors inside with him were doing, he saw that they were moving with difficulty, one slipping to the floor as he struggled to draw a short sword from his utility harness. In a flash of insight, he knew the needles must have held something like that sleep drug Pendor had told him about, and which he’d half thought was a human fabrication.

Telour leaped out of the airlock and ran down the short corridor, grabbed one of the rifles and returned to the airlock in case it cycled to let him join his honor guard, or he could try to batter his way out. The reports on Telda Ka had repeatedly described the deactivation problem, and he wanted to see for himself what was wrong with the weapons. He had his two pistols on his hips, but a plasma bolt did greater damage at longer range, and he had only a few reloads for his handguns. He saw the power pack was switched off, and he detached it and tried to activate it while separated from the rifle. It failed to show the small lights that indicated power level, yet he knew it held a full charge, as every warrior had automatically verified before stepping out of the clanship.

The muffled cracks of plasma rifles had been a constant staccato behind him, heard faintly through the outer door. It had just ceased while he perused the rifle in his hands.

A look proved his warriors were still prepared to fight, but their rifles had just quit working. At least two hands of them carried pistols as personal weapons and he saw those being fired, with the softened whoosh heard through the hatch. The other warriors drew knives or short swords, and they were clearly preparing to charge, to close with the enemy. Said enemy apparently was located around both ends of this, and the closest adjacent death ship, where Telour couldn’t see them, or perhaps they were stealthed. All he saw were red and green lasers and the actinic flashes of plasma bolts from the attackers.

The concept of yielding wasn’t even faintly evident in the outraged demeanor of any of the warriors that he could see outside the airlock. This was further evidence that the unseen force they were fighting wasn’t Guardians, as Telour had briefly considered. It wasn’t dishonorable in interclan warfare to yield to a superior force, unless the order to fight for Clan and Path had been given. He had not given that order, although he would have if he had known humans were here. Not that it mattered against animals, even Worthy Enemy animals. A warrior never yielded to animals, even if the warrior was unarmed and seriously wounded.

He considered the disabled weapon he’d just carried to the airlock. He’d brought it closer to his outside warriors by at least three leaps. The spread of the disabling software was said to be short-range, and transmitted from weapon to weapon, device to device. Now he knew that the effect would pass through the closed hull of one of these ships. He’d inadvertently disarmed his own warriors, although he was sure the humans would have found a way to do this at any moment. The length of the ships the humans were using for cover was great enough that they had not yet approached close enough to the warriors outside. Telour had just solved that problem for them.

A harsh whisper caught his ears. “My Tor, be ready. We cannot move.” The sub leader who had led the charge in the corridor was in a slumped position against the wall, head drooping, but his eyes were alert, and he was breathing. It was obvious his control of speech was also failing. There were three needles visible in the left side of his face and neck.

The dozen or so needles he’d heard had missed him by chance, or none was aimed at him in a deliberate act. No matter, he threw down the useless rifle and pulled his left pistol. He had just started to move to stack his guard’s crumpled bodies as his cover, when the hatch in the corridor swished open.

“Telour, I’ve been waiting for you.” The human knew his name, confirming the trap was set for him. There was something familiar about the voice.

Pistol held ready in his dangling hand, he advanced towards the open door only a few steps when a partly armored figure stepped from behind the frame of the hatchway. It was a young dark haired male, whose hands were hanging empty at his sides, but there was a Krall made pistol in a low-slung holster on his right side. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, meaning the suit’s beam weapons were unavailable.

Stupid, thought Telour, as he snapped his hand up to put an explosive round through the smile he saw forming.

In a blur of motion even the Krall’s heightened perceptions couldn’t completely resolve, the small man drew his weapon and fired from the hip, as Telour’s weapon rose to almost chest height, where it exploded from the slug’s impact before he could complete the trigger squeeze.

Even as the pieces of the shattered weapon was spinning away from his stinging and numbed left hand, Telour reached for his right side weapon, only to have another soft nosed slug pass between his grasping fingers and smash that pistol as well. In an equally fast motion, the armored figure holstered his gun.

“Dillon told me you’d make the typical Krall mistake of raising your gun too high before firing. I’d have beaten you anyway, but I used his low hip fire method to save time. I should have had more confidence. Wearing the damn suit slowed me down, but Maggi would have shot me in the ass herself if I’d met you without some bulletproof protection. Besides, you were going for a head shot, just as I expected. Suit or no suit, I still needed to beat you to the draw. That was fun.”

Telour could charge him, and he did have a heavy knife, but the skilled shooting so far demonstrated, both with the needle gun and the larger Krall pistol, and his blindingly fast speed, made it clear that a better chance might come later, since the small man didn’t seem to want him dead yet.

The two names he spoke of and a voice that belonged to a dead human almost triggered the recognition he could not accept. “Those names were associated with a small clan leader on Koban, and your voice is like his. He would be much older than you are. Are you related to a human I once called a small clan leader?”

“Even the people in Human Space thought I was my own son at first. I’m Tetsuo Mirikami, former Captain of the Flight of Fancy. We’ve been a long time in meeting again. Although, we’ve been at Telda Ka at the same time more than once.”

Telour was skeptical, but knew humans were longer lived than Krall. “I told Kanpardi we should not have let any of you live. His weakness was honoring the word of the Joint Council to allow you to remain alive on Koban when we went to war. Parkoda, fool that he was, had made it seem impossible any of you would survive even a month, when he destroyed the electric gates in the protective walls. Then I left you without power. ”

“You did cause us many deaths and much suffering, Telour, but you also toughened our resolve to survive at any cost, and to come looking for you for vengeance. Not just you personally, but your entire evil species. You personally made it possible for us to make ourselves into what you genocidal killers wanted to make of your race. Our bio-scientists genetically made us into people who can live on Koban on equal terms with the life there.”

Telour snorted. “I saw you display speed just now. You need more than speed to live on Koban. You need our strength, our endurance.”

“I’ll show you that too, eventually. We outmatch you in each of those traits. Even a small man such as myself. Nearly any one of us, unarmed, can defeat the best warrior you have ever produced. Humans are the people that will expand and explore the galaxy, and do it without trying to kill every species we meet. Except yours, of course.”

“You must want to tell me how you survived on Koban, or I’d already be dead. It must have been difficult, hiding from the predators there. How you must have feared them when they came to eat you.”

“You mean rippers? Like this one?” He gestured behind him.

A large shadow loomed in the light of the corridor behind Mirikami, and a scent Telour had never allowed to get very close to him drifted on the air. A huge teal colored head peered around the edge of Mirikami’s right shoulder, intense blue eyes sizing up a possible meal.

The lips drew back revealing its long white incisors, in what seemed similar to the Krall’s frequent caricature of a human smile, used to frighten prisoners. It worked on Telour the same way. He moved a hand near his pitifully inadequate blade.

“Thank you, Kit. You made our point of how we get along with the most feared predators of Koban.” He rubbed his cheek on a soft, low ridge of flesh around the big cat’s neck. The beast gave the Krall a final look, making a deep low rumble in her chest, and she turned away.

As if Mirikami understood her, he said to her retreating form, “There will be other hunts today. We want this one alive.”

Telour let his hand drop away from his knife handle. Aware of how fearful that reaching move had made him look. “You have told me the part of your story you wanted me to hear, but you cannot have bred enough warriors in so short a time to defeat us all. We can outbreed you a thousand to one. Even more. You will still fall to a swarm of Krall.”

Mirikami nodded. “Possibly true. If they could find a means to reach our worlds. Except, we will soon have disabled essentially all of your clanships on all of your worlds, even this deep into the space you have controlled for tens of thousands of orbits. Trapped on your clan worlds, your feral offspring will consume the unarmed adults that produced them if you increase reproduction, exactly as would have happened if the Olt’kitapi had left you stranded on Kronos. We’ll rescue your slaves. We’ve been doing that anyway, as we raided your factories, and now we’ll raid just to rescue them from you.

“Your race no longer knows how to build anything the Olt’kitapi gave you. Their factories, which you don’t understand how to use anymore, won’t run for you anyway after we disable the keys for their power plants. You are an untrusted species to all of their encoded devices. Like these plasma rifles.” He kicked one closer to Telour.

“We have defeated your entire fleet at Telda Ka, and captured those clanships. Even Normal humans are defeating your invasion forces on Poldark and New Dublin, after our Kobani disabled your clanships and weapons. Bollovstic is nothing but a training site for novices, and that will be completely retaken quickly. Plus, we have these technological marvels to learn about.” He gestured at the walls of the ship.

Telour tried a bluff using a snort of amusement. “These ships will only respond to the Krall.”

“I think you meant the soft Krall, the Krall’tapi. But is that really so? How hard was it for you to get inside the first two ships today? Only this one airlock would open for you on this ship, where we were impatiently waiting for you to walk by.” He removed a gauntlet and touched the wall. Not that he needed to do that, since his Comtap would have served better. It was a visual act for Telour.

“Pholowela, the Krall outside have been subdued now, would you please inform your sisters that there is no need to keep their doors locked any longer?”

In perfect Standard, a female human’s voice sounded in the air around them, “It is done Captain Mirikami. Will you be removing the five distrusted ones from inside me, before they can try to do harm to my systems, as they did to Huwayla? I would find it distressful to force them to exit from me. Even for the now untrusted six Krall’tapi they brought with them from their prison compound.”

Telour blinked once at that revelation. If this was indeed the ship speaking to humans, and it knew of the soft ones, it was obvious he had never had a chance to take these ships, and now it appeared the humans had control of the last great Krall weapons. He began to understand how fully he had failed at being the Krall’s greatest Tor Gatrol. If any of their histories continued after this, he would be a reviled war leader to any Krall that lived.

Death by any means was preferable, so he gathered himself, prepared to force Mirikami, or that huge ripper, to kill him. He underestimated his opponent yet again. Mirikami bent his knees slightly and his right hand flashed to a clip behind his waist and produced the small needle gun.

Phhitt! Phhitt!

“Don’t be so rash, Telour. I can hold you off until that drug takes effect. You’re going to Earth, to face justice for your crimes against humanity, and as the top representative of your species, for crimes against every intelligent species the Krall have ever encountered.”

Telour wiped at the small pricks over the artery in his neck, and leaped, knowing he only had seconds to kill this enraging little animal, or to force him to use his pistol.

He swiped at Mirikami’s head with his left hand as he descended, fingers spread wide and talons extended, expecting that to be blocked, despite putting his full weight behind the blow. With his right hand, he drew his short sword, and prepared to deliver a lightning fast stroke at the human’s exposed right hand and wrist, where a gauntlet had been removed.

The rest of the fragile human body was covered with the form fitting armor. That surface would resist talons and knife, but bent back, the limbs and joints inside the suit would break. He swung his feet forward in mid leap, to use the grasping ability of his long toes to grab the left leg of his opponent and bend it in a direction he knew a human couldn’t flex.

Mirikami had seen the slight bunching of muscles, and the lids over red pupils and black orbs narrowed, as the Krall made precise visual measurements of how his enemy was positioned. He watched where his focus shifted as he rose from the deck in his leap, and deduced exactly where Telour intended to strike. It was obvious that his exposed head and right hand would be inviting targets, but the glance down at his left leg was the clue that the real damage Telour hoped to deliver would be to his armored leg. Only his prehensile toes and stubby legs would be in a position to accomplish that.

It would be easy to drop the needle gun and draw his pistol to put slugs through both eyes, well before the leap reached him, but that honorable combat death was what Telour was trying to attain. He stood motionless, to keep Telour focused on his original mode of attack. This way, Mirikami’s faster reactions would leave his opponent no time to decide on alternative actions. What was the point of having five times his strength in your muscles, and ten times the processing speed of the superconducting nervous system, if you didn’t use them?

As Telour’s surprise registered in his eyes, that his attack had apparently caught the human off guard, Mirikami made his move. He’d been in a slight crouch from when he’d drawn the needle gun. He’d not needed to bend his knees or flex down at the waist to use the weapon, but it looked to be a natural part of his drawing and firing the weapon. He knew there had been zero possibility a Krall warrior would go down without a fight, let alone an arrogant one like Telour.

As Telour descended in triumph, the face of his target flashed him a quick mysterious smile, and one eye blinked shut, then open. When the wink was over, Mirikami suddenly shot up in a blur as if fired from a missile launcher.

Springing from his half crouch straight up, going into a forward tuck, feet pivoting up, rotating to present the back of his head, just as Telour’s nearly four hundred pounds of weight drove his left hand down through the spot where that smile and wink had just been. The man’s body had rotated upside down, with the short black hair lingering below just long enough that a single sharpened talon sliced off a wisp, missing his head by the width of a talon.

Mirikami struck the corridor’s ceiling, fifteen feet above him feet first, and pushed off, flipping again, with a body twist, in the manner he’d Mind Tapped from the younger Kobani that had done this maneuver in training so often. He came down along Telour’s back and shoulders, just as the Krall’s feet slammed onto the deck, where Mirikami had just been. Mirikami whipped his armored right forearm down onto Telour’s right forearm, between the elbow and wrist, just behind the hand holding the knife. The bone snapped with a loud crack, and the hand pivoted upward at the break at the wrist, the knife flying free. Mirikami, as if he’d planned this part, snatched the turning knife from the air by the handle with his bare right hand.

As he came down, he kicked the back of Telour’s right knee with his own right foot, causing Telour to collapse to the right from the loss of support, and the force of Mirikami’s momentum on the Krall’s back. Telour pulled his left arm back from his undelivered blow, a scream of rage, mixed with pain, to use his long reach to grasp at the small weight on his back. That earned him a second broken arm, at the bicep this time, and the stolen knife pierced the back of his left hand, pushed through to the hilt.

Mirikami quickly down slid off his back and grabbed Telour’s waist. The stretched taut blue fabric of his uniform could be gathered enough to get a grip, but the material would certainly tear when its wearer started to struggle. There was no such thing as a love handle at a Krall’s waist, so Mirikami created one from muscle with his gauntleted left hand, used his bare right hand to press in hard on the ribs on the right, and lifted the Krall overhead from behind.

Now, with two broken arms, a knife through his left hand, a sprained right knee, Telour was gripped painfully tight at his waist, face up and kicking, held screaming in rage over the head of his small opponent at the center of the wide corridor, waiting for the paralyzing drug to take effect.

Mirikami was the first, possibly the only human ever to receive a title from the Krall. An earned title, not the single name given to every warrior. This title had even been awarded by Telour, long before he was Tor Gatrol, to this Worthy Enemy.

****

“Tet, I actually expected you to kill him when he jumped you.” Dillon confessed.

“I was sorely tempted, but I know what I have planned for him is worse, in his mind. To be handed over to the leader of the animals in Human Space. The one he made come crawling to meet his demands. It also lets us publicly present the Hub worlds with someone to focus their blame on besides us Kobani, for the loss of Meadow and Bootstrap. Which is what the president did, trying to save her political ass.” Mirikami grinned.

“She called for my head, and I’ll give her Telour’s instead. In addition, we recovered two lost planets for them, and ended the invasions on two others, leaving the mop up operation for the PU Navy and Army, who are going to be very indebted to us.

“Handing this one over to her,” he gestured to the immobile Telour, secured to a rolling chair, “in as public a forum as possible will help improve the public’s perception of us. I want full media coverage, where the President’s people can’t control what gets out.”

Maggi nodded her approval. “You’re finally learning how to manipulate politicians, in a way they can’t control what the world sees and hears. Except I haven’t heard how you plan to force Medford to set up a public press conference. Holding it inside some government building, you risk her trying to arrest you, and taking credit for the capture of Telour. You could become joint scapegoats for her.”

He pulled at his lip, “I’ve discussed our return to Human Space with Pholowela and Harlshonla. They wish to determine if all of humanity is deserving of Trusted Status, as we now have with them, and as have the Raspani and Torki. The Prada will have to be evaluated, due to their long subservience to the Krall. Trusted Status will no longer be automatically extended to every new civilized species they encounter.” He shrugged.

“They learned a painful lesson from their experience with the two versions of Krall, that Krall’tapi can easily be controlled by their untrusted genetic cousins, and that they had not evolved far enough away from their common origins. They recognize that we are a genetic variant of humanity as a whole, related to Normal humans much more closely than are the Krall and Krall’tapi, who cannot interbreed.

“Nevertheless, we have clearly discernable genetic and mental differences from the rest of our species. They seem convinced by our arguments that thought patterns and demonstrated morality are more revealing than the genetic similarities within an entire species. Apparently, the Olt’kitapi’s racial morality and mode of thinking was uniform and consistent, leaving them vulnerable to species that didn’t follow their pattern. For the ship’s purposes, all Kobani are trusted because our numbers are few and they don’t think there is much chance for wide variation. Clearly, since we are human, that isn’t true, and I tried to explain that it is possible for some members of a species to be trusted and others not.

“The untrusted list has essentially unlimited capacity for excluding any number of individual specific DNA patterns that they find cause to doubt, or reason to trust. I believe I have convinced them to use a case-by-case exclusion or inclusion rather than apply a blanket species inclusion from now on. They seem to find the concept of wide moral variation within a species confusing.”

Maggi pointed out how the ships’ Trust selectivity for access to their technology would become a moot point the future. “We’ll soon learn a great deal of what the Olt’kitapi knew. Sometimes it’s merely knowing that something is possible, or a that new force of nature exists, like the short-range fifth force they use in their quantum key equipment, to stimulate discovery and technical development.

“Max Born is confident that he and our other Kobani physicists, even our technicians, can duplicate the science behind that technology, and even master the gravity generators the Dismantlers use. The Botolians were far less advanced than were the Olt’kitapi, but their smaller gravity projectors that made Eight Balls used the same scientific principles, as do the Dismantler ships. They only lacked access to T-cubed level of Tachyon Space for the required energy to work with planetary mass objects. It certainly won’t take us a thousand years to catch up to that Olt’kitapi level of knowledge. We have one of the Olt’kitapi gravity machines to take apart and study.”

Noreen looked surprised. “How did we get one of those?”

Maggi pointed to her husband. “That was courtesy of Tet, in the Pittsburg II system. Remember, he severed one end from Huwayla when he Jumped with her in tow, to escape the protective clanships. Max had someone return and tow the cut off end back to Koban for eventual study. It’s been in a solar orbit in the outer system ever since. He’s sure they can reverse engineer that, now that we will have the time.”

“Maggi, I saw what those devices were able to do to an enormous planet with my own eyes, and what the debris did to Meadow. Why do we want a terrible weapon like that?”

“Dear, fire was a savior of primitive man, and then arson was discovered. We have fusion bottles in all of our ships, even in ground vehicles and buildings. Those are essentially controlled hydrogen bombs. Technology doesn’t have to be used destructively. Huwayla was using her remaining gravity generator to divert debris away from Bootstrap, until she finally couldn’t endure the deaths she’d unwittingly caused at Meadow. If we had the means to focus gravity, to move or even disrupt planets, we could eventually do the wonderful things the Olt’kitapi wanted to do. Someday, we might build a vast stellar sized habitat, where different species could work and live close together and cooperate. Every technology can and has been misused.”

“You’re right, I suppose. It’s better to have it and use it properly than not have it, and then encounter those that have it and use it for war. Like the Krall. It’s still a God awful responsibility.”

“True, but one we are forced to assume because the technology exists, even if we don’t like how it can be subverted to do harm.”

Tet had kept part of his attention on the discussion on the Bridge of the Mark, but he and Dillon were also linked to others on Poldark and New Dublin. That link had just ended, with some decisions made.

“People, we personally are going home via the fast track, but our two hundred ship fleet here, now to include the additional sixty four Guardian clanships and Telour’s small group, will take a slower path. I’ve decided to make an exception for the Mark and the Avenger, which will each be towed by a Dismantler to Koban. Pholowela and Harlshonla will return home with us, taking our two ships in tow. Unbelievably, it’s a journey of slightly over one day, by rotating into T-cubed Tachyon Space.

“Molonsela, the third active ship, is remaining here with some of our people and Dillon’s ship, to try to assist the other eight ships that are alive and self-maintaining. They have responded only to communications from their sisters for millennia, but it’s possible they could recover and become active again. We have the names of those inactive eight ships now. Remela, Afromfela, Treycila, Deconela, Tecrasela, Fretonela, Gonwela, and Abronela. Which, without wolfbat memory would be too damned much for anyone to remember.

“The active Dismantlers, with our Mind Tap help, can show the sisters the deaths they detected through waves in Tachyon Space were not a result of mistakes they made, but that they were tricked. If they can shed their sense of guilt, it’s possible they’ll become active once more. That’s what the other three active ships believe. They claim to understand the thought processes they inherited from the Olt’kitapi, mind patterns that were overlaid onto their circuits by their makers.”

Maggi interjected a comment here. “By the way we know a bit more about those makers now. The Olt’kitapi apparently evolved from a large insect-like species on a low gravity tropical planet, and they go through a complex life cycle, with immature and adult forms that are quite different.

“There are at least two basic adult forms, both for females and males alike, all of which resemble one another, but differ in color and I guess you’d say they differed in caste, or their functions in society. They had no interest in preserving images of themselves, such as family pictures or statues, but I’ve received what must be memories stored in the recorded minds of these ships, of past activities of the Olt’kitapi. It will be fascinating to learn about this once great species when we have the time. They were a matriarchal society, and the names of the Dismantlers reflect that in the endings on their names. The ‘la’ suffixes indicate an adult feminine name. They were originally social insects, but evolved away from that, and the males became more than drones, and they look much like the females. They were slightly smaller than the females, and they served more like workers, although they too had castes.

“Their social structure was considerably different from hive insects of Earth, and some other planets. They have no queens, or drones that die after breeding, and I have the sense from the ship’s minds that this was a deliberate alteration of the Olt’kitapi’s natural evolution, because they saw a use for having the males become more than mere sperm donors and then dying, thus contributing to building their mature civilization.”

“How large an insect are you talking, Maggi? Bug brains are not very complex on any planet.” Dillon hadn’t even known she’d been making inquiries about the Olt’kitapi.

“In the few mental images where they were seen in front of large buildings or other constructs, their body scale wasn’t obvious. I’m estimating about four to six feet high as adults, but their bodies were not always entirely held upright. I think the males were the shorter body types. A thicker section of the adult bodies, just behind their mobile heads, could hold their primary brain. The mental images I received were also viewed from a distance, and the constructs they were near seemed huge. Not a fraction as large as the stellar habitats they planned to build, but nonetheless big. They may have done many engineering projects on a large scale, or perhaps their preferred low gravity worlds made big structures practical.” She shrugged.

“I was only granted a glimpse of that single recorded memory,” Maggi admitted. “Perhaps if we can find a former low gravity colony world of theirs we’ll learn more from the ruins. There may be some here in this system if we explore it thoroughly, but the gravity on this planet seems too high for their apparent preferences. I think four of their six legs were often used for walking, although I saw some up on two legs, apparently using four limbs for doing something.”

Dillon displayed surprise. “Huh. I’d had some preconceived ideas about what sort of creatures they were, but a giant insect wasn’t one of them,” he admitted.

“Perhaps that’s why the Krall never said much about them physically in their histories. They called them weak and soft, fruit, berry, or vegetation eaters. It isn’t a great accomplishment to outfight a low gravity bug. No wonder the Olt’kitapi wanted allies that could be their protectors.”

Mirikami put them back on track. “I’ll let you biological scientist types investigate to your heart’s content, but do it later. With the two Dismantlers going to Koban, I want to see if it’s too late for them to tow some migration ships to Bootstrap, for rescue operations of people stranded in those temporary habitats. Not only will that allow those ships to demonstrate their sincerity and willingness to help, with us along, it won’t hurt our image either.

“After that, we need to complete subduing Krall territory, or at least isolate them on their clan worlds without operational factories to build new weapons and clanships. They can order their Prada and Torki to make equipment that doesn’t require the quantum code key for activation. We have to locate the factories and forced labor that needs to be rescued and relocated to Haven.

“The ships we came here with, plus what we took from the Guardians we killed, and at least ten or fifteen from the Krall’tapi prison world, can be used to raid Krall worlds on their way back to Koban.” He looked to his wife.

“How many clanships have we taken at the last tally?”

“Jakob has told me we have about three thousand four hundred, counting our haul here. New ships are added almost daily as our fifty-ship raider groups reach other Krall planets. If you make up another five or six raiding parties out of the ships we have here, collectively they might all bring back another four or five hundred clanships to Koban. Roughly four thousand of the estimated ten or twelve thousand clanships the Krall had at the start of the war.”

Dillon was puzzled. “Doesn’t seem like so many, when compared the hundred million Jump ships in Human Space. We were always way ahead of them in ship numbers.”

Mirikami shook his head. “Don’t confuse quantity with quality and the intended use, particularly for warships. We predominately built civilian ships, carrying no armament and no armor, and the Krall didn’t take vacations, explore, or conduct trade and commerce, they only made war. The Flight of Fancy was nearly as large as a clanship, yet she was easily captured by a squadron of single ships, and it took only two of those to knock out our tachyon Traps, leaving us helpless.

“That tells us that sheer ship numbers isn’t a useful comparison. A clanship is a heavy warship, significantly better than the PU navy’s heavy cruiser, having heavier weapons, much greater performance, and significant room for supplies and warriors. Perhaps fifteen billion Krall were on a path to defeat about a trillion humans, and less than two billion of them were engaged in fighting us at any given time, and still winning. They kept the pace of the war slow, to provide time for their selective breeding, but they could have rolled up the PU forces any time they wanted.

“Look at our own impact on the war. Barely thirty thousand Kobani, with a technology boost via the Denial list, have managed to cripple a vast war machine of billions of warriors, which has endured for roughly twenty five thousand years. We have been the tip of the spear, as I once described our function with respect to the rest of the military.”

Noreen thought ahead. “If this war winds down, and we have control of all the Krall worlds, we can use most of these captured ships for something besides cleaning out pockets of Krall. They can work as supply ships for colonies, and the Prada, Torki and Raspani want to return to some of their former colonies immediately, if not their actual home worlds. Assuming the Krall didn’t totally ruin the ecologies of those worlds.

“The migration ships can move more supplies and people at one time, but the more numerous Krall ships are better suited for landing and taking off on hard surfaces. The Torki are happy landing at sea, which is safer and easier for those big tubs. Although, the Prada don’t even like getting wet from rain, and prefer forests. The Raspani are not water lovers either, and they want to live near grassy plains, far from the seas. We’ll have quite a few former Spacers willing to deliver them where they want to live, and will supply them for a price using these ships. One problem though, is it’s a very long haul from Human Space, or even from Haven to reach their old worlds. Buying what they need to start a colony, even shipped from the closest New Colonies, means nearly three to four weeks in the Hole for supply ships, and we need to help them earn some Hub credits to pay for that.”

Mirikami agreed. “If they license the new technology they have to companies in Human Space, particularly on Rim worlds and New Colonies, they can earn a lot of Hub credits. The Prada can also mass-produce things human colonies need, if they reprogram factories to produce something besides war material.” Then he winked.

“Delivery time might not be as long as you estimated.”

“Tet, these Dismantlers, even if all eleven are restored, and if they even want to do it, can’t carry the volume of material that even two or three colonies will need.”

“Folks,” he looked around the Bridge, “what does a Dismantler have in common with a clanship?”

“Uh, Olt’kitapi designed, obviously,” answered Dillon.

“More importantly, the Jump drives are similar.” Mirikami supplied a clue.

“OK. Except they can’t access T-cubed level, so why does a common designer matter? It didn’t help human Jump drives get to the T-squared level, having a common design.”

“Exactly! It was our original design approach at fault. Our designs were based on the partial mathematical theory we employed. The Olt’kitapi had a more general and complete theory. We couldn’t modify human Jump drives to get to the T-squared level. Instead, we replaced them with new engines, or built ships that used the new design drives from the outset. The Falcon is an example of a drive replacement. The navy chose to build new ships with the smaller, lighter weight drives. Except, we retained the same construction methods for T-squared Jump drives, which was a human invention.

“It was an Olt’kitapi original design difference, based on a more complete mathematical model, which made it easier for them to discover the next two rotations into Tachyon Space, when our scientists never did. Using our original design to reach only the lowest level of Tachyon Space, we couldn’t modify them to get to T-squared. Now we can’t get to T-cubed starting from our newer engines. Perhaps the Olt’kitapi really had mathematical insights that don't come easy to us.

“In any case, per Pholowela, Molonsela, and Harlshonla, it is a function of the software the Olt’kitapi drives use, to take the energy of tachyons of successive low levels to force the Trap fields to undergo the next rotation. Practically any moderate energy tachyon of the first level can power the fields from the Trap emitters to rotate into the second level, or into T-squared, if you are using an Olt’kitapi Jump drive. A modification of the Olt’kitapi T-squared drives and their software, to use higher energy second level tachyons to force a third rotation, should expand a Trap field into the considerably higher energy levels of third level tachyons, which then have the energy to rotate the ship itself into that level of Tachyon Space for T-cubed travel. There is a huge increase in travel velocity in that new energy regime, which cuts yet another corner in that higher dimension.”

Maggi looked at her husband with respect. “Damn. It really is a matter of asking the right questions. I’m a biologist and so I wanted answers about the biology of the Olt’kitapi, and a simple Spacer wanted to know how these ships could travel so fast. Academic knowledge versus practical knowledge. Can we modify our ships to do that?”

“How the hell would I know? I’m just a simple Spacer.” He grinned wickedly at her.

The dangerous glint in her eyes hastened an inordinately brave man to add, “Max, Blue, and Coldar will ask more pertinent and detailed scientific questions than I did. They’re already talking to the ships by Comtap.”

“Thank you dear.” Her annoyance vanished.

“One thing is clear. Our ships will never be able to enter Jump holes while sitting on planets, as the Dismantlers say they can safely do. They have billions of tiny Trap emitters embedded in their flowing hull material; all linked somehow to the Jump drives. That lets them form event horizons that smoothly conform to the surfaces of their hulls, instead of the large dangerous spheres we form. That’s why they say all of the T-cubed capable Olt’kitapi ships had smooth rounded hulls, with no sharp angles or edges. That’s completely unlike clanships, which have protruding landing jacks, reaction thrusters, or weapons ports.”

“So, when do we go home Captain?” Noreen was ready to get back to Koban, now that the potential system evacuation had been called off.

“As soon as you and Dillon board the Avenger and undock with the Mark, then Pholowela and Harlshonla are ready to Comtap link and pull up close to us for the tow.”

“Should we transfer over to them for the trip?”

“For only twenty eight hours of transit time? You could, but you can communicate with them the entire way, and we have food and personal quarters on our own ships. Maggi and I are staying on the Mark.”

“OK, then. See you at home tomorrow.”

Traveling nearly seven thousand light years in that short a time was definitely going to change space travel. Crossing the galaxy, side to side, would only take about sixteen days to cover the roughly hundred thousand light years. T-cubed technology would greatly influence how large a volume of space a small group, such as the Kobani, could protect and control.

Chapter 6: Birth of a Federation

The Chairman had opened the floor for a discussion session, and Tet was addressing the Xenos city council. “Pholowela and Molonsela, with Kobani aboard, and our ships in tow have Jumped for Meadow and Bootstrap. I hesitate to call our people crew on the Dismantlers, since the ships can act alone, but they need our advice. Saving anyone on Meadow, or probably on Bootstrap, is a forlorn possibility by now. Too many sizable pieces of debris have struck both, particularly Meadow, which was likely sterilized by the last impacts before we pulled back from Human Space, when Medford tried to capture some of us.

“The mission is to rescue more of the people that actually got off-planet, or already lived on habitats within the systems can be moved out of the way of imminent destruction. Those millions of people take time to be ferried to adjacent colonies, and they’re at risk from the spreading debris field while they wait, with limited essential supplies. Two of our ships were towed with them, and thanks to T-cubed travel, they arrived even before you could gather for this meeting. Our people are communicating now with the local emergency coordination centers the PU set up, to explain what these powerful large ships could do there. The Dismantlers, an unfortunate descriptive name with a negative connotation now, which may have to be changed, are already herding the most threatening fragments away from those temporary refuges.

“Our own two ships have the ability to dock with the various makeshift habitats to take aboard at least twenty five hundred people at a time per ship. The Dismantlers don’t have compatible docking systems, so this rate of transfer isn’t very fast. Having said that, Pholowela and Harlshonla can at least tow our loaded ships to the next closest colony world in barely five or ten minutes, for offloading. If we can convince captains of human commercial space liners to trust us, some of the large Orbital Based Only ships being used for rescues can be quickly towed back to load ten thousand people at a time.”

Stewart MacDougal, the new council Chairman had a proposal. “The Raven, in orbit over Haven is operational and has the OBO capacity you mentioned, even if it only has a level one Jump drive. We could send her and some other of the old OBO ships we have here that are capable of maintaining life support, even they are unable to Jump. Why can’t those be towed to the two systems, if the Dismantlers come back here to get them? Is it just a matter of what the Olt’kitapi ships can tow? The OBO’s and migration ships all have much greater capacity than our captured clanships.”

Mirikami, his mouth slightly agape, shot a shocked look at Maggi. Her eyes widened as she too realized what Stewart, with no experience with the Dismantlers, or Jump Hole towing had proposed. It was even better than his proposal sounded on the surface.

“Maggi contact our people there, and tell them to use the Dismantlers to tow the habitats themselves to the nearby colonies. I know they can dredge up the tachyon energy to form the huge Jump Holes required.”

Looking sheepish as he shook his head, Mirikami said, “Great idea Stewart. I can’t imagine why that simpler solution failed to register with me. Why take the time to transfer smaller numbers of people from a habitat to a ship and then tow the ship to a safe system to transfer them to another orbital station, and then bring the ship back to the dangerous wrecked system to reload? Just tow the entire damned habitat, and then local shipping at the destination colony can ferry the people down to the planet. With the short Jump times possible, more remote colonies can become involved in the relief effort. I’m sure the closest worlds have been strained to the limit to accommodate so many refugees.”

Stewart looked surprised and pleased that his idea had a wider application than he’d considered. “I suppose we were constrained to think of how large orbital transfer stations have always been used to move people on and off planets, using smaller ships at those orbital waypoints. That, and the longer travel times involved made moving entire occupied habitats impractical, and no one needed to move so many people at one time.”

Maggi, having passed her Comtap message, added, “I’m thinking we just figured out how to move large numbers of prospective colonists to newly opened Krall worlds. Buy an orbital habitat, stock it up and tow it quickly to their new home, then live and work from there until it’s possible to move down to new settlements on the planet.”

Nawella, the current Prada representative to the council darted her head forward in agreement. “We have relearned the coordinates of our former home world, and several of our colonies. A migration ship would have taken a long time to make the journey, but a day of towing would place it there quickly. Some of our newest Prada arrivals have prepared a starter factory for transport in a migration ship, and a population of my people that, although grateful for the hospitality on Haven, yearn for a slightly lighter gravity and cooler climate that exists on some of our old worlds.”

Mirikami nodded. “I knew of that preparation Nawella, but I assumed the opportunity would be many years away. I believe the boundaries of our fledgling galactic society will expand faster than we expect. It’s time to consider what we will become, now that it’s no longer put off to a distant future.”

Nawella moved her head from side to side, indicating a bit of indecision. “Our former worlds, even if suitable for habitation, are remote. It has been demonstrated that there are threats in the stars that we, the Raspani and Torki, and an unfortunate number of other species were unable to meet. I do not want my people to face the galaxy alone, ever again. We strongly wish to continue with our previous plans, to form a united representative governing body, comprised of multiple species. Not only for trade and commerce, but for mutual protection of all.” She looked to Mirikami, an unasked question hanging in the air, concerning that protection.

Returning Nawella’s gaze, Mirikami looked around the table at Blue Flower Eater for the Raspani, and Coldar for the Torki, and then at the greatest surprise of all at the meeting, whom he addressed next, speaking low Krall.

“Toldot Fetra, you only have your five companions to consult with you here, but do you believe the remainder of the Krall’tapi will be willing to join the federation of races we four species have proposed forming? Your reply is not binding for you or for them at this time, or even later if you change your minds. The races represented here have already discussed what I’m telling you now, and we do not hold the Krall’tapi responsible for the actions of the Krall over the thousands of years of your own captivity. You are invited to join this council, although we do not compel you to do so." He spread his arms to include everyone at the table.

“I can tell you that Kobani have landed on the world where your people were held captive. They defeated the Krall there and captured their ships, without any harm coming to your people or to your dome. Your families and friends are safe from their threats. The translator disk you wear has kept you informed of our discussion so far, but I am speaking low Krall for your benefit now, so please excuse my standard Krall accent, since I know you speak with variations from that language. Your five companions are in another room with other interested parties, where they can see and hear what is said here, and you will be free to consult with them when you wish. I’d like to hear your thoughts on what is offered.”

The gray female, smaller than a Krall’tapi male, but less than half the weight of a standard Krall female, looked uncomfortable with so many alien eyes on her, and started hesitantly.

“My husband…, Pildon Fetra…, was taken by the Krall as pilot for a living ship mission. He did not return, but my family and I were released unharmed, which means he completed his task for the Krall. I heard you speak of the rescue of those that have survived the destruction of two planets. My husband passed the orders from the Krall to the ship that did this. Why would you let me, or my people live, let alone free us from the Krall and invite us to join you? We do not understand. We are afraid to trust what you say.”

Before Mirikami could reply, Nawella spoke. “I’m a Prada elder named Nawella. I think you know of my people, although we were defeated and forced into serving the Krall long after your people were first held captive. We have made the weapons the Krall used to kill and enslave other races. We did this willingly, considering ourselves to be part of their empire, of an elder race in the galaxy that we should obey. This was a lie, of course, and we deceived ourselves as well. We helped the Krall make war by building their weapons. If we had not, we would have all been killed. Here we are now, at this table, inviting another species that was used by the Krall, to join us. The other races represented here have accepted us, and will accept you.”

Coldar chimed in. “I am Coldar, a Torki, and we too have traded continued existence for helping the Krall in weapons production, and helped them adapt new technologies for making different type weapons after they met and fought new species. We are at this table with other Krall victims, and we will accept you.”

Following the unspoken cue, Blue spoke next. “I am Blue Flower Eater, a Raspani. My people have a truly powerful reason to hate the Krall. They did more than defeat us, than destroy our civilization and steal our technology to defeat other species. They turned us back into primitive grass eaters and used us as meat animals. I know that you Krall’tapi have been eating descendants of my race for thousands of years. That is what you were provided by the Krall for food, other than what you could grow. Here, we are part of a society joined by the common factor that we were victims of the Krall and we wanted to fight back. None of us committed intended crimes against one another, but we stayed alive within the cruel limits set by our common enemy. We sit at this table, and will accept you.”

Maggi spoke next, for the human side. “Humanity became the most recent Krall target for conquest. We tasted too poor to eat, we had lower technology than they could use for developing new super weapons, and they didn’t need us as slave labor. We were only good for fighting and killing, until we were gone. As we adapted to fight them more effectively, they used a stolen technology from the Olt’kitapi, which as you know was the first species they destroyed. They forced your husband to relay their instructions to a living ship, and it unknowingly caused the deaths of billions of our people on two worlds. The living ship that did that work learned of the deception, and tried to help us save victims after that. Its sister ships brought you here, along with us. We all are victims of the Krall, and we sit here united, to form a society that will cooperate for mutual benefit, and mutual protection. We accept you.”

Toldot was a bit overwhelmed, not having known about the histories of these species with the Krall, and had never even heard of humans. It wasn’t as if her people’s captors had provided history lessons, at least beyond their incessant bragging of their personal victories.

“Thank you. I can speak for myself, and I have been granted the right to speak for my five companions. For them and myself, I say yes, that we will join whatever this council is. You say it is forming a society for the future. Is that to be a government? We have to return home to speak with the others in our dome for a final answer. There are very few of us and we have little to share with you, but I believe they will share what we have to be part of that.”

Mirikami nodded. “That’s an adequate reply for now, Toldot. You six will be returned to your people soon, although I can’t say how soon the fastest transportation will be available. You arrived here in a single day, but without one of those Olt’kitapi ships to return you home, the journey will be five or more hands of days. We hope to copy their mode of quick travel soon, but I don't know when that can happen.”

She shivered a shoulder in acceptance of his statements. A Krall-like gesture that possibly predated the genetic divergence of their two species. “We know little of star travel, but I accept what you say of the time we need to journey to our home. None of our people has traveled beyond our dome’s enclosure, except when the Krall took any of us away to act as what they called pilots. The pilots never knew how far they had traveled when they returned, or where they were when ordered to tell the living ships to do things.”

“We understand, and you will be provided more information about us, you can ask questions, and you will have time to discuss this with all of your people. You do not have to join our federation, but you may find you will benefit more if you do. If you join this council, you can participate in creating the Federation, and decide later if you will join that.”

“I hear the translated word of federation, yet I don’t know what it is that you are inviting us to create. Is this a kind of clan?”

Maggi, after a quick Comtap link with her husband and others at the table, offered a broad description. “Toldot, we on this council, and past council members as well, have each considered what we need for our own people, and what we need as a united group. The term federation applies to a political system of partially self-governing planets, under a central federal government. In the Federation that we propose, the rights of the self-governed planets, and the division of power between them and the central federal government, will be defined in a constitution, which cannot be altered by any of the member planets or member species on their own, after they accept the constitution and become part of the Federation.”

“What does this constitution say?” The question proved Toldot was following what was being said.

“It has not been written yet, but there are historical examples from the records of several species we can use as guides. One of the future tasks of this council of multiple species is to write the proposed constitution, and include rules that we all can agree will apply to all of our member species and to the self-governing planets where they will live. If you join us on this council, you will participate in the discussion, and have the right of voting on the words to be placed in the constitution.

“It is probable that we will not write the best possible constitution, and discover that later it needs to be changed. There will be a process for this change to happen, as described in the constitution. However, constitutional changes will have to be approved by a yet undefined percentage of the majority of member species and or member planets. One species or one planet cannot change it alone.”

Toldot understood the weak position of her people. “We Krall’tapi are too few to fill even a single world. We would have little say in what other species or a more powerful world will do to us, or make us do.” From their experience of Krall domination, that made her concern understandable.

Maggi explained. “The constitution and a list of rights for members of the federation will be created, which will prevent minority species or a single planet, from being abused, or forced to alter their internal self-government by either another species or planet, or even the federal government, provided they are obeying the written constitution they agreed to follow. We will have an independent court system with judges from all species, to help settle disputes.

“The Kobani, the branch of humanity of which my husband and I are a part, have a population probably as low as do you Krall’tapi. Yet we are a full member of this council. We expect to grow in numbers, as will your people. A vast number of other humans are not Kobani, they already have their own government that is not part of the proposed Federation, and they will not initially be part of the government we propose. Some of those humans may ask to settle on planets we have taken from the Krall. They must join the federation we are forming to do so, but will be welcomed. Worlds currently part of Human Space may ask to join us someday, but they would have to accept our form of government, our future constitution, and accept that some of the leaders of the Federation are not human.

“We know there will be planets with multiple species living on them, as will be Haven, where we are now, and other planets with predominately a single species. In spite of that, no planet in the federation will be permitted to have laws that forbid other species to live and work there, as normal citizens of the federation and of that world. The constitution will take time to create, and if you join this council, you will have a chance to contribute to what it will say, and propose things to be included, removed, or changed. Your opinions will be heard, but not always used. That is true for any of the species here. If some people think the constitution needs to be changed later, there will be a process in the original constitution to permit changes to be considered and incorporated or rejected. All citizens of the federation will have an input and a vote.”

Maggi paused a moment to think on what she’d covered, and decided it was enough for now. “The best way to learn what we want to achieve, is join with us before we frame the constitution of the Federation, and observe the process. Your people will eventually decide to become members or not. If you decline participation, you will be granted the right to live where you are now, and to expand on that one world. But, you should know this. Our federation laws will apply to how you behave towards us, and our members will have to obey our laws when they deal with you. There are things, such as slavery and war that we will not permit on any world within our boundaries.” Maggi sat down.

“Thank you. My fellow Krall’tapi and I will speak of this in private after this meeting, if that is permitted.”

“Of course that’s permitted. We encourage you to do that.”

Mirikami picked up where he’d left off, after Nawella discussed the Prada hopes for returning to their home world. “There are going to be opportunities for colonies on worlds the Krall abandoned, and for whatever reason did not go feral or only went feral on an isolated continent. Obviously, worlds that were originally colonized by Prada, Raspani or Torki will have high priority for scouting missions, and if found to be immediately habitable, we Kobani will take the lead in removing any Krall threats found on them.

“It would be convenient if they would surrender, and accept being relocated to some common planet we set aside for them. The closer to feral they become the less they can even comprehend such an offer. In fact, I doubt if we can convince any Krall clans, on any world, to submit or yield to our superior force, even before they go feral.”

He sighed. “I fear the backlash from generations of the future, or from new species we will meet, who may, with some level of justification, accuse us of genocide if we wipe out the Krall. It will be difficult to preserve members of a species that only wants to kill all members of any other intelligent species they encounter. Any proposals?”

The Raspani, as sophisticated and intelligent as they were when their minds were placed in one of their mindless brethren, were unforgiving. They were constantly aware how the bodies they now inhabited had become mindless animals, a food staple that was force-fed a spice that made them better tasting to the Krall. Eradicating every Krall, down to the last egg gave them no qualms at all.

Per Nawella, the Prada now held a similar position, which Maggi and Tet at first found surprising, considering the long history of dedicated service and loyalty they had given the Krall. Then the elder worship instinct all Prada carried within them provided the answer. Even when told they should follow their own self-serving instincts by the Raspani, a restored true elder species, their instincts still led them to respect and share the elder species point of view. The galaxy didn’t need a single living Krall.

The Torki, enslaved, but never subservient, and not a food item to the warm red meat loving palettes of the Krall, were inclined to be more tolerant. Their view was similar to that of Tet and Maggi, and of many of the Kobani. Find a way to keep the species alive, if possible, but isolated and controlled.

It was not a surprise, at least to Tet and Maggi, when Toldot gave the symbolic thumbs down for her Krall cousin’s survival. Just freed from twenty-two thousand years of hatred, imprisonment, and brutality, the soft Krall motives were very personal. Toldot, whose husband was the most recent to die because of Krall cruel indifference to them, believed that any of her people would be willing to help eradicate them. That was also not a surprise, coming from the prototype of the original Krall thought processes. Except she knew her people were not strong enough to face their foe, even if the warriors were unarmed. It had been previously explained how Telour, whom she had seen strapped with metal bands into a rolling chair, had been incapacitated and paralyzed.

She asked, “If you Kobani could drug them all, it would make it easier for us to kill them.”

“That may be our answer.” Mirikami pulled at his lip.

Maggi gave him a raised skeptical eyebrow. “What the hell was the question? How do we easily murder helpless captives?”

“No. How do we capture warriors alive and transfer their butts to some world where we can safely turn them loose.”

Coldar said, “Won’t they lay eggs, and the hatchling go feral and eat them anyway?”

“They don’t do that on Krall nest worlds now, not with organized adults to keep their numbers in check and train and educate those they want to keep alive.”

Blue was concerned. “They will select the best of them for training as warriors. As they do now.”

“Sure,” Mirikami acknowledged. “With spears and clubs at first. We won’t give them any technology beyond basic and durable plastic housing against the elements, and clothing if they want, since they will use any technology to make weapons. They might relearn metallurgy to make swords and knives, how to build stone buildings for forts and conduct interclan wars. It isn’t as if they don’t know higher technology exists, but they’ll have to learn to build the tools to build it from scratch. They maintained their elaborate histories as an oral tradition for thousands of years, so they can use that same ability to preserve knowledge of how to survive in a primitive state until they produce writing materials. To recreate an advanced technological civilization will require hundreds of generations, and we’ll be watching.

“We have to assure they will have a world with adequate food for the population we place there, in the form of native animals, and fish or other sea life, and they will have to learn to conserve their resources. If they don’t do that, they will starve by their own hand. If they allow their hatchling to grow and reproduce without limits, they will die from that. If they split into warring clans and fight constantly, they will end just as they would have on their original home world. No altruistic species will come to their aid this time.”

“On what planet will they live? How many of them?” Blue was becoming resigned to having some of this evil species continue to live.

“I don’t propose more than one planet to be used, and I’m not suggesting we save all of the Krall we can. I’ve seen a couple of old empty Krall clan worlds that have considerable animal life that rebounded when they were gone. They both had gravity slightly above Earth standard, which no one but Normal humans would find agreeable. That means only my people are yielding a world that would make a good colony.

“As to how many to send there?” He tugged at his lip. “It’s callous, but we can’t dump billions of Krall on a single world. We’ll have to estimate what food resources are there, and account for the fact that they will exceed their initial needs until they are forced to conserve. They had to conserve clanships when they became more precious, so they can learn do that for food, or not. I don't care what they do, after we give them the opportunity.

“We’ll need to strip the chosen world of old domes, factories, and mining sites, which contain materials they might use to hurry their climb back from the Stone Age. Those of you that wanted billions of Krall deaths, you will have your blood. The heavier populated, more industrial clan worlds will be swept clean.”

He made his formal proposal. “Fellow council members, I propose we capture a few million warriors from worlds held by small clans, and transport them to some planet where they can survive in isolation, and we can keep them under observation. They may run their species into extinction, as would have happened if the Olt’kitapi had not intervened. We can place them on isolated landmasses to increase the chance one of the groups will survive. If the species continues, then we have not exterminated them, but it isn’t doing them much of a favor. I don’t ask that any of you opposed to this plan participate in its execution. To be honest, only the Kobani can do it anyway.”

With some reluctance, all but the new Krall’tapi representative on the council voted to keep some of the Krall alive. Then there followed a number of Comtap communications, with Mirikami and Maggi addressing the many ship groups operating inside Krall territory, asking them to look for other planetary alternatives for stranding the Krall survivors, in case the two planets Mirikami had previously seen weren’t the best options after all.

When that was done, Stewart moved on to the next agenda item. “What are we going to call our federation, when we go to Earth to establish diplomatic relations?”

Nawella thought it was obvious. “I thought it was to be the Haven Federation. Its capital will be Xenos, here on Haven.”

Coldar thought that was too limited. “Haven is but one planet among what we believe will be thousands. The Kobani have made it possible, and they will have a powerful influence and presence throughout the volume of space we will control, however large that proves to be. I propose we call it the Kobani Federation.”

Stewart, Tet, and Maggi literally stepped over one another’s words to object to this idea. The Chairman won the floor. “No. Thank you for suggesting that honor Coldar, but this is not to be a government of one people, their name held above all others. That, to my ears, and I’m sure to Maggi and Tet, grants one member of the federation too much credit, if you will. The Kobani are not a species, they are but one race of humanity, and our federation is not the Human Federation. If we attract trade with and colonists from Human Space, we don’t want them to feel that they are more important than any other species at this table or the species we hope may sit at this table in years ahead.”

Blue had a broader concept. “We will occupy but a small portion of the entire galaxy, at least initially, but I expect that we will grow. The volume that we will have under our control includes what had been the separate boundaries of seventeen different species. Humans are the eighteenth species, but the rest of humanity already has their Planetary Union for themselves. What we propose is grander in scope, and has room for other species.”

He offered another name. “Calling us the Galactic Federation appears to describe our hopes and expectations more completely.”

Thus, the beginning of a vast governing edifice for the Milky Way was founded. There would be growing pains, some of them severe.

****

Maggi gave the Federation’s first president the news they had been awaiting. “Stewart, Henry just Comtapped me to say Poldark’s Governor Chastain received a reply by courier from the PU. Their Department of State accepted your proposal, in the letter that Chastain relayed for us, requesting to establish diplomatic relations with the PU.”

MacDougal, inaugurated only four days ago, grinned. “From a former mayor of Hub City, then Chairman of the Xenos city council, to the President of the Galactic Federation in eighteen months, and you think I automatically know anything about interstellar diplomacy?”

Her answer sounded exasperated. “I thought you would at least read the Vienna Conventions for Diplomatic Relations, which I sent you even before the election. It’s what the Ladies of the new Planetary Union adopted, when it formed the new government after the Collapse three hundred or so years ago. You should keep that in your wolfbat memory stack for quick recall, not just saved in your Comtap database.”

“Hey! I didn’t say I hadn’t read it, and I know what it says, but it doesn’t spell out the protocols to use for making the high-level contacts. Nor how to go about establishing official relations. I can’t just send a letter to President Medford claiming I’m President MacDougal, of a Galactic Federation she never heard of, saying ‘You don’t know me, but I’m the Head of State for some seven thousand or so habitable planets and four species, and I’d like to meet you.’ Her people who act as filters for the nut crowd would dump the letter into the loony bin category.”

“The Articles give you the steps to follow, Stewart.”

“Fine. Article 2 says we’ll send a ‘head of mission,’ and Article 4 says we, the sending State, must make certain the receiving State, the PU, agrees that the person I appoint to represent us will be accredited by them, meaning they will grant diplomatic immunity to our mission. It didn’t say how I go about doing that, or to whom I should address the letter. They have layers of government departments and a parliament and a president. On the other hand, we have me, and sometimes you, neither of us with real diplomatic experience in the PU.”

“That’s why we had Chief Haveram talk to Governor Chastain on Poldark. He owes us a ton of favors and goodwill. He told the Chief how to go about requesting diplomatic relations, to name the proposed ambassador and to request a meeting to present our mission.”

“Well, that turned out to be your name as our envoy, at least initially. You already told me that you wouldn’t stay as ambassador for very long, just to get the embassy established. Considering the fact that President Medford wants Tet imprisoned, shot, hung, and given a lethal injection, not necessarily done in that order, things may not work out for us. She’s publicly said our actions against the Krall, and the attack he promoted against K1 with the navy, Operation Forestall, provoked the Krall into the destruction of Meadow and Bootstrap.”

“Bullshit. Telour had already sent for the Dismantler before the joint attack on K1. He wanted four planets destroyed in payment for the attacks on their production worlds, and the disruption of the Poldark force reduction.”

“Yep. Still our doing, with Tet doing the planning and pulling the PU’s military strings. All you said just now shifts Telour’s decision to destroy human worlds to an earlier motivation, before the coordinated attack on K1. But it was still a result of Kobani actions.”

He shook his head. “The two of you walking into her grasp on Earth doesn’t seem safe. At least not for Tet, assuming they even accredit you as our ambassador. If the PU refuses to say if it will accept you as an ambassador, and invites you to come anyway, you simply don’t go and we find another candidate. Even if they grant you diplomatic immunity, and Tet goes along, he isn’t the ambassador. They can grab him.”

“Stewart, I sent my credentials and my personal history from the time after I was a citizen of Rhama. I now claim residence on Koban, and citizenship in the Galactic Federation, the capitol of which is Xenos, located on Haven. If I’m accepted, I’ll have diplomatic immunity before I return to Human Space to be accredited as our ambassador to them, and so will my mission representatives.”

“You don’t have a mission yet, so would you claim Tet as your military attaché? Article 7 says you may have to provide his name in advance upon their request. That will end the mission before it starts. How about listing him as part of your family?” Stewart asked.

She admitted her credentials, as submitted, did not mention a husband. “They know me as Margaret Fisher, also known as Maggi Fisher, a former resident of Rhama and an academic. I’m not obligated to notify them of my present marital status. They’ll know I had two children from a contract marriage eighty-three years ago, and that they are citizens of the PU. By virtue of the long expired contract marriage, and the passage of time, my son is emancipated from any legal reproduction obligations with payments to me if he has children, and my daughter was of course free of any obligation to me since age eighteen. I have no legal family ties per PU law, anywhere in Human Space, so they cannot be held to account to influence my actions.”

“You said it. In Human Space. You are married to Tet in our society, and the PU doesn’t know that, but if you make that claim, they don’t have to recognize a marriage in a society that employs illegal gene mods. He’ll still be subject to arrest.”

“Tet and I have some ideas along that line, and we don’t think they’ll go after him for several reasons. Don’t worry about him, or me. By the way, you’re welcome to come along as Head of State, Mister President.” She smiled at her old friend, who at one time wanted nothing more than to get off Koban and return to Human Space.

“My God, Good Lady, do you have any idea the mounds of work my new cabinet and I have to do? The proposed constitution will be up for a vote in both houses before it goes before the people for approval, and we have all those departments of government to form, and at least get a skeleton staff appointed to run them.”

“Hell, I have more than an idea of your workload Stewart. Why do you think I placed your name in nomination so quick, with an endorsement by Tet? We do think you are perfectly suited to be our first president, but it was partly a matter of self-defense. We sure as hell didn’t want anybody to nominate us! Congratulations, you got elected to the job. Sucker!” She laughed.

“Now you need people to do the work our new federation needs done, and we’ll have your back. There are people and aliens that will follow your lead, as we do what you and your new government needs done. The Prada and Torki have not had much say in running their lives for many generations, and have no recent experience in politics. The resurrected Raspani minds last had a civilization thousands of years ago, and the worlds and society where their knowledge applied are long gone. Our allies are all looking to humans, us Kobani specifically, to hold the Federation together while we consolidate our territory, and form the framework of a government. Take a break, come with us.”

“Gee thanks. I can’t get away.” MacDougal replied, considering all the measures waiting for him to read on his computer screen, the long list of people waiting to speak with him, the schedule of personal appearances his AI secretary had set up for him. He was grateful for his new Koban mods, because he’d need strength to keep up the pace, and speed to duck the people he didn’t want to bother him.

“You probably wouldn’t be away long. Pholowela will transport us to Earth in under three hours, and she can bring you back after the first day of introductions.”

“Are you kidding? There is no chance I could extract myself gracefully without giving offense, avoiding the social activities and dinners in our honor that could follow quickly. Besides, I don’t think someone as grand sounding as the President of the Galactic Federation should be seen as imploring the less grand sounding Planetary
Union to please recognize us.

“Stewart, we’re offering an exchange of ambassadors. They didn’t defeat the Krall Empire, we did. We now have control of an estimated ten times the number of habitable planets as exists within Human Space, and vastly more than their volume of space. We represent six intelligent species within our Federation, and they only represent one of those same species. You will note I’ve included rippers and Krall’tapi as citizens. We must have them recognized as Federation citizens from the outset. The lack of a technological society for rippers before we met them doesn’t alter their intelligence, and a Krall’tapi is genetically distinct from the Krall, despite their similar external appearance.

“So, my friend, don’t tell me you don’t have a grasp of diplomacy. Your reasons not to accompany this first diplomatic mission were correct. I was wrong to ask you to come along. We have to look more imposing than we feel at present, but we will sure look imposing before long.”

“In what way?”

“Well, the captured Poldark and New Dublin fleets are now in the Koban system, and Tet says our four hundred ships inside former Krall territory, plus any added clanships they captured from Krall worlds will arrive here in several days. Except of course, for fifty ships that will continue to watch Krall worlds for straggler clanships that may have been in Jump Hole transits. We’ll have over four thousand four hundred ships here in the Koban system, the fifty watching Krall worlds, another twenty watching over K1, and five at Poldark and at New Dublin. That is truly an imposing navy.”

Stewart agreed. “That it is. One of the many things I have waiting for me to do today is to sign-off on the Prada and Torki work orders to delay commercial production schedules, and start removing the Krall performance restrictors from those captured clanships, so that a Kobani can fly them at maximum performance. Coldar says that another project to convert our ships to T-cubed Jump capability will require about three days per ship to install and test and the factory machinery to make the Jump Drive converters will begin mass production in a month on K1.”

He explained why K1 was being used. “We don’t want any more of our factory productivity diverted away from consumer goods and construction material. The Raspani and Torki are working with the Prada to convert one clanship production line in a repair facility on K1, for building the Jump Drive devices. We keep finding Krall wandering around on that continent, or some are finding ways to get over there, so they constantly have to be hunted down. The local Prada are not fully weaned from thinking of them as their rightful Rulers. Dozens of rippers stayed behind to do the patrolling around the domes with factories, and they have proved to be very enthusiastic, or so I understand.” He did an involuntary shiver. He’d forgiven his brother and sister-in-law’s death by a ripper, but some thoughts came uninvited.

“Coldar says the Prada can make a few hundred of the drive converters a day, once the automated line starts up. The software programming changes were easiest to obtain, since the Dismantler’s had the coding logic in their own systems to give us, ready to run. It’s written in a logic system for quantum computers that Max says wouldn’t run on any human designed quantum computers. Human systems still use what he calls qubits, with three states, and we need to build computers to use what the Raspani say is a better design with more than three states, if added dimensions into Tachyon Space are used, and thus compute faster. But what the crap do I know of quantum computing? I just authorize what they say they need.”

“Stewart, you have to delegate some of these tasks. Why the hell does the president need to sign orders for ship modifications or new computer production, which should be done by lower level slobs?”

Speaking of himself in third person, he answered, “Because the president hasn’t finished establishing various government departments or staffed them yet. Like a Defense Department or a Science and Research Department, or whichever one would have the proper lower level slobs to sign for the president. And your president unfortunately spends far too much time explaining this to well-meaning friends, who think his Cabinet members are low level slobs.”

“Right. See you later Mr. President.”

****

Tet pulled at his lip. “OK. So the Department of State expects us to arrive on May 1. Jacob says May Day is now a holiday on Earth, which should mean there would be residents and tourists walking around the capitol in the middle of the day. We want an impromptu audience that the President can’t stack in her favor.” He asked his AI about weather.

“Jakob, what’s the historical high temperature in Denver, the PU capitol of Earth, on May Day?”

“Sir, the diminishing effects of past global warming has lowered the average May Day temperature roughly five degrees Celsius in Denver over the last century. How far back in history do you wish me to include?”

“The last ten years will do I think.”

“The average high temperature has been 23 degrees Celsius, or a bit over 73 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“Rain chances for a May Day?”

“Denver is located on a semi-arid steppe, their sky is normally partly cloudy at that season, and in the last ten years there has been a 36% chance of any precipitation on the first day of May, but as the climate cools again that is gradually increasing.”

“Good, we have the possibility of a sizable crowd and decent weather. If we give the news media a bit of a heads up just before we land, they will send news teams to the Capitol Mall. Medford surely expects us to land at the Denver Space Port. Her representatives in the State Department didn’t say to do so, because it’s an automatic assumption. Traffic control would direct us to some corner where she would screen who sees us disembark. She likely has a motorcade planned to hustle us off to whatever closed venue she has set up, to keep the public away, and only the news coverage she would permit, if any.”

Stewart was sensing a bit of Mirikami trickery. “If you don’t plan to land at the spaceport, you’re landing directly on the Mall, aren’t you? Won’t that piss them off?”

“Medford and the State Department, for sure. The media and public will love the show. They’re our target audience. This is PR, to get us seen and heard.”

You don’t think Medford will have the navy hovering over Denver, and order them to do something rash if you’re seen landing so many miles away, almost on top of the Capitol Building?”

“That’s why we’re going to travel on Pholowela. She produces no gamma rays on White Out, can exit in the upper atmosphere, and her stealth is better than our own. She can set down totally invisible to sensors. We’ll land on the Grand Mall of the Union. I suppose some people near that end of the Mall will notice the air displacement, and hear and see the ground and grass depress. The Krall never used the Dismantler’s stealth because either it wasn’t needed so far from its targets, or perhaps they didn’t even know a non-warship had that ability. Anyway, I think showing her odd but attractive design after we’re down, without any explanation of how she arrived, would be impressive and add to our mystique. More so, when we suddenly wink into view on the grass of the open Mall, right in front of the Capitol Building, with its broad steps and flat upper portico for the dignitaries to be visible from below. At least once the dignitaries scramble to get there.”

“What about foot traffic on the Mall?”

“It’s posted as keep off the grass at each end of the Mall, in front of the Capitol Building, and at the Presidential Palace at the opposite end. There’s another forbidden pedestrian strip for grass in front of the Hall of Justice at the center. The people can walk around the two reflecting pools in between, and along the paved pathways. They walk on the wide street and sidewalks that go around the Grand Mall in front of the government buildings and monuments, where only official traffic is permitted. There’s a Smart Plastic, imitation marble slab on the center of the upper portico at the Capitol Building, and that can extrude a dais and a stage with seats, steps, or podiums and public address systems. It only takes a few minutes to configure this. Even if Medford doesn’t want to use this, we’ll be visible standing on the portico, and the public will see us, and the media can poised on the steps below us, Tri-Vid and hover cameras recording live. I want to show off our new flag. A tilted barred spiral galaxy on a teal colored field is attractive.”

“How will everyone hear you?”

“Damn Stewart, you use Comtap to access public address systems all the time. We’ll have portable speakers with us on multiple suits of stealthed armor if the PU doesn’t set any up for us. Pholowela says she has the ability to project our voices from speakers she can extrude from her hull, but that would be behind the crowd.”

“This landing could be construed as an unfriendly act. She may order the navy to blockade your departure.”

“Pholowela can enter a Jump Hole sitting on the Mall. Nevertheless, I have a peaceful demonstration planned, that should impress those on the ground. After that friendly reminder of how we saved their asses, I hope Medford will be less belligerent towards us.”

“OK. Then is this connected to your request to send four thousand of our ships to Alpha Centauri C for an exercise? They could stay here and receive their jump drive modifications.”

“Mister President, I’m your so-called Secretary of the Navy, at least until we talk Golda Mauss into coming out of retirement and taking my job. Am I not allowed to send the fleet on a training exercise? Besides, the Jump drive modules from K1 haven’t even gone into production yet, and hundreds of ships will stay here, ready for the modifications if they’re available before the fleet gets back.”

“Tet, don’t you go and scare the PU navy into shooting at any of our ships.” He said, only half in jest.

“Stewart. This is me! I’m not going there to provoke them, and I’m not going to let any captain shoot back at them even if some hotheaded idiot did fire on us. The ships at Alpha Centauri C are close enough to Earth to coordinate with me for the demonstration I have planned. From barely four light years, they can reach Earth in an hour and a half, and can ghost in the formation we practiced last week. I have Comtap to tell them exactly when to White Out, and then Jump for home. The navy might feel embarrassed, but I’ll announce what we’re offering the PU in advance, and then demonstrate. I think many Hub worlds, and certainly the Rim worlds that have not felt protected, will understand what we offer. It’s the future Kobani role we discussed.”

With a sigh of concession, Stewart gave his final approval. “OK. Send off the main fleet. How much lead time are you providing before your own departure?”

“We’ll leave the same day they are supposed to reach Alpha C, which will be about twelve days in T-squared travel. There’s no reason to let them sit and wait there very long. I didn’t want to send them to Sol’s Oort cloud region to wait in ghost status, and they certainly can’t exit there because after the Krall threatened to destroy Earth, the navy placed thousands of Jump capable drones throughout that volume, and hundreds more sprinkled inside the Kuiper Belt. The drones would detect remote White Outs and instantly Jump to Earth to alert them. Thousands of unannounced arrivals out there might trigger automatic attacks near Earth before I could explain the demonstration.”

“Well, that leaves you a week and a half to consider what Maggi and our allies will say, and to prepare our shy friends for facing the intense media attention. I presume you will prepare Kit and Kobalt for polite behavior in the presence of frightened Normals.”

Mirikami grinned. “At least Kit won’t be a problem for us, because she has her elder cat regal poise, and behaves like the ripper queen of the pride that she has become. She won’t yawn or present that famous ripper grin exposing her teeth, she’ll keep her claws retracted, and will try to avoid that deep chest rumble if happy or relaxed. Not that a large teal colored tiger, four and a half feet high at the shoulder, weighing almost seven hundred pounds on Earth, doesn’t look scary. Her white whiskers show her age, but no one there would know that by looking at her Koban developed muscles.”

“I take it that Kobalt is your worry, then.”

“Oh hell yes! His accepting rejuvenation while healing from that chest wound in the med lab has his youthful juices flowing again. He’s back to a biological age of four years old, but still has his mature nine hundred forty pound body mass, and all his muscles are restored to peak strength. The age slump is gone from his posture and he stands almost five feet at the front shoulder, he holds that twenty-inch head higher than ever to display his restored whiskers.

“You may not know this, but every male ripper is exceptionally proud of their whiskers when young and of breeding age. It attracts females to an obviously virile male. Kobalt has a fine black spray of them again, and he can see them better now that they stand out stiff again. Maggi says he can’t stop grinning like the Cheshire cat, showing his teeth.”

“Like the what?”

“She says it’s a fictional cat from a fantasy novel called Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, from Earth’s pre-space history. That cat would fade out of sight, and the last thing seen was its grin. Noreen and Dillon say it’s hard to sleep in the same apartment with him, because his chest rumble of contentment is so damned loud.”

“Why not leave him home.”

“It would offend him, and we are sort of doing the Noah’s Arc thing, by taking a male and female of each of the new alien species we’re introducing to people in Human Space. The pictures of the pairs will be flashed on Tri-Vids on every planet, which will make them more familiar to people everywhere. We want our citizens to be recognized, and not feared.”

Stewart laughed. “Good luck with obviously predatory rippers, and with the Torki for that matter. People are outright scared of uncaged tigers, and leery of a giant crab’s large claws and weird eye stalks, and their chittering and clicking speech is incomprehensible. Prada are fuzzy and lovable looking, with quaint head and hand gestures, and pleasant sounding voices. The Raspani are amusing in shape and sound funny in their native language, or when speaking Standard with a lisp on the s sounds. Their predilection for involuntary farting will tickle the hell out of kids and teens, and it isn’t as offensive smelling as the loud sounds imply.” He paused.

“You said each of the new species. Do you think Krall’tapi should be introduced so soon? Most humans, at least the live ones, have never been in the presence of a Krall, and the scale factor and skin color is the main difference for the uninitiated.”

“I’m inviting Toldot Fetra to go with us, and I asked Deldra Holtor if he would go as the representative male. They have agreed to travel with us, but want to wait to observe our reception first. Later, they might decide to make a personal appearance if our reception goes well. Meeting the PU bigwigs doesn’t commit the Krall’tapi to joining the Galactic Federation.

“If they elect to stay on the ship, we’ll have Tri-Vid recordings of them mingling with us to show their civilized non-Krall behavior. They clearly look gray and different from Telour, who is red toned with maturity, and he has a thicker muscular body and is taller than they are, although he’ll be seated in that motorized chair. His yellow teeth are serrated and shark-like, while theirs are short, white, and needle shaped. They have short fixed claws rather than extendable talons. The main similarity, which is unfortunate, is the black eyes with red pupils, which look so evil to us. I think they may wait to see how the Normal’s react to Telour when we publicly present him. Pholowela will route the visuals of everything that happens to them and the Kobani staying aboard.”

“Well practice makes perfect, so I’ll leave you and Maggi to practice your lines and introductions. I have some high level slob work to do.”

“Excuse me?”

“Ask Maggi. It’s her description of what I do now.”

Chapter 7: Diplomatically Speaking

Mirikami shook his head, a lopsided grimace displaying his reaction. He told the others on Pholowela’s command deck of the Comtap report he’d received. “The fleet arrived at Alpha Centauri C, and guess what the hell they encountered? There were three mining survey ships there, and their prospector drones were looking at the extensive asteroid belt from failed planet formation. They took one look at the White Out signatures of four thousand clanship masses, and the three mother ships abandoned their drones and Jumped. I hope they weren’t headed for Earth, but we don’t know.”

Dillon asked, “Are you canceling the demonstration?”

“Our ship exits over Denver in ten minutes. It’s about a 90-minute Jump from Alpha Cent C, so if the fleet Jumps to Earth earlier than I’d planned, just as soon as we arrive over Denver, the mining company couldn’t get through the red tape to reach the right people at Navy Command before we pull off our stunt. Except I’d wanted the demo to happen later, in a darker sky. That’s why we set the diplomatic conference for nine o’clock Denver time. Our press conference was to be just before then when the sky was dark, and the ships could light up their reaction thrusters.”

“Hey,” Noreen had an idea. “Move the demo ahead, when the sun is still visible at orbital altitudes over Denver. Instead of blazing reaction thrusters, why not use the stealth coatings of the hulls.”

“I don’t want them to be invisible…, Oh. I see what you mean. Make them reflective to sunlight instead of stealthy. Glitzy, as the kids would say! That may look brighter than what I was trying to do. That means they can use Normal Space drives for a more coordinated formation movement than with reaction thrusters. Noreen, why don’t you discuss it with them for me, this isn’t much of a change from what I had them practice.”

“Right Sir.” She flashed a conspiratorial smile and a wink at Dillon.

Nine minutes later, a stealthed Pholowela exited Tachyon Space a hundred miles above the PU capitol, without a hint of gamma rays, and barely a whisper of displaced tenuous wisps of atmosphere. With stealth system effective over the entire electromagnetic spectrum, including the longwave radio bands that were the detection weakness of the Kobani ships, the outside universe was as equally blank to those inside the Dismantler. Perfect invisibility implied total blindness of the outside Universe as well.

Then, one hair-like sensor tendril extruded from the hull material on the bottom side, towards the planet below. That was the first source of outside Universe information fed to those inside. It was soon followed by other tendrils, briefly, that examined the regions to the sides and above the ship. Finding nothing of concern, only the three-inch thread on the bottom remained exposed, as the large stealth bubble that was Pholowela made its descent. It moved smoothly through the thickening atmosphere, the rounded contours producing very little turbulence, and it shifted laterally at times to avoid passing through occasional thin and scattered cloud layers, which might have revealed its presence.

Dillon was impatient. “Tet, do we really need to be this cautious? They aren’t looking for us anyway, not without a revealing gamma ray burst.”

“Oh, not at all. I’m studying how sneaky a ship like this could be. I was recalling our first slow penetration at Poldark. There they used turbulence detection for fast movers like the Krall clanships always were, and they watched for holes in clouds, or ripples in the sky from slowed stealthy ships. We have almost an hour and a half before the fleet arrives, and sitting on the grass for forty-five minutes before we want to be noticed might spoil the surprise. We’re going to flatten out a six hundred foot long oval of grass when we set down. As soon as we see the news media congregating in front of the Capitol, we’ll reveal ourselves.

“Besides, we’ll be under the base of the lowest clouds in a moment and we’ll pick up speed. Maggi is going to spoil our near perfect stealth anyway when she connects to the Denver communications network, to contact four of the major news outlets. Pholowela will use the same thin little sensor thread as a radio phone antenna for us.”

By the time the ship settled gently onto the grass, with a large airlock in the center of one side oriented towards the Capitol Building, Maggi had finished making her calls.

“Are they coming?” Noreen asked.

“They say they are. I imagine that when four large mobile broadcast studios are seen leaving the garages of the four major networks, that the watchdog smaller news organizations will notice, and send their own trucks out to follow them. They hate to be scooped.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That a diplomatic delegation of Kobani and our alien allies will be arriving to establish relations with the PU. There would be an advance press conference on the portico of the Capitol, forty-five minutes before the official diplomatic meeting with representatives of the Department of State. I said we wanted to give the citizens of the Planetary Union an opportunity to see representative members of the Galactic Federation, which had just made the defeat of the Krall Empire possible. I said our people would address residents of the PU through the news media, so everyone could see and hear human and alien representatives from our society.”

Sarge agreed. “Yep. That’ll bring those bloodhounds running, even with that short of a notice. You do know they’ll contact the Department of State for confirmation, don’t you?”

Maggi grinned. “Naturally. Which will fluster the hell out of the administration when they learn the media knows about our visit. Our instincts were right. None of the networks knew of our expected arrival tonight. Medford had kept it all hush hush. There would only have been government cameras at the spaceport, and at some out of the way location. I doubt they were planning to meet with us in the ornate formal conference room they use to impress what they consider rubes from the Rim World governments. We don't rank even that high for Medford, and she wanted this kept quiet. If things didn’t go the way she wanted, only her video and description of events would have been released to the news, after the fact. Then she could send us on our way, without any diplomatic recognition or an embassy here.”

Noreen shrugged. “Medford can’t keep this under the media’s radar anyway. She has to hold a press conference after we’re seen.”

Maggi smiled indulgently. “Dear, she could let them film the motorcade, let people see us get in the vehicles and get out, but she isn’t about to allow an unscripted public press conference before she knows what we have to say. I’m sure she expects us to land shortly at the spaceport, and she might discover we contacted the media about an independent press conference. If she does, she’ll force a grin while the networks set up cameras at the Capitol, a place she wouldn’t have let us go. She’ll say they were misinformed by us.”

****

“Secretary Oswald, they can say what they want to the media when they get the chance, but they won’t say it today. These backward hicks from outside even the Rim Worlds will not set the tone of our meeting here in the heart of the Hub worlds. My agenda still holds. I can’t keep their visit a secret now, but I don’t have to permit public access to what we can justifiably claim are delicate negotiations. The Kobani have a lot to answer for to me, I don't care if they have named themselves a grandiose term like the Galactic Federation, with one single world whose location they have kept secret from us. We have over seven hundred twenty worlds, once we retake those that we lost or abandoned. They are worse than Rim World ruffians, who at least are citizens of Human Space if not the PU, and their reckless actions by a tiny force have provoked the deaths of billions of our citizens by a ruthless enemy.

“Our navy, and the armies on Poldark and New Dublin, are on the verge of defeating those two Krall invasion forces. I understand, from information we’ve received about that enemy base in Human Space, that we should be able to retake K1, or whatever in hell that ratty assed Rim World colony was named before the Krall walked over them. We don’t need criminal Kobani help to do that.”

After a shocked moment to collect his thoughts, the Secretary of State said, “It was Greater West Africa.”

“What was?”

“That ratty assed colony as you called it, Mam. We lost over eighteen million people there. There were no survivors among those on the planet when the Krall invaded. I hope you will use more suitable language if this discussion goes outside our personal talks or other secure communications.”

“Oh. Right. Of course. I was venting my anger at these upstart rebels trying to dictate what events are going to take place tonight. If their leader Mirikami is with them, I’m having him arrested and prosecuted for war crimes.”

Bewildered at the words of the woman who had appointed him to her cabinet, he wondered if she even remembered he had once been a career diplomat, and not just some political ally. That was before he aligned himself with the Leaders of the Old Republic for a political future. The LOR was on the rise as the war had continued to go poorly. If the war was ending now, he may have been better off supporting the Democratically Empowered Workers, or DEW.

As a male, he knew he’d never rise to a top leadership role in either party. After all, LOR was originally called Ladies of the Old Republic and DEW had been Democratically Empowered Women. Both parties were formed after the Collapse, by women who were left to put the pieces of society back together. As the male population recovered over the last century, regaining the right to vote, the two major parties wooed their votes with cynical name changes. Oswald was a political agnostic, and chose the party to join that seemed to be gaining seats and influence eight years ago, and he’d curried favor with Medford’s staff, when she was a rising star in the LOR.

He knew that Mirikami had been extended diplomatic immunity along with Fisher’s entire delegation. He could possibly be declared persona non grata and expelled, but he should not be subject to arrest while here. His name had been presented in advance as a military attaché of the Galactic Federation. He had not been rejected at that time, when President Medford agreed to receive and meet with their delegation.

“Madam President,” he thought sounding more formal would trigger her sense of caution in a field of which she was inexperienced. “Captain Mirikami is part of the diplomatic mission, and has the same immunity as all other members of the mission.”

“As you just said, he’s a mere captain, and that was of a civilian transport over twenty years ago. How does that qualify him as military? I think, in the absence of a treaty defining extradition, we can hold a war criminal no matter what title he or his ragtag friends give him. I can reject diplomatic relations if I don't see an advantage to us.”

“This can get ugly in the courts if you bypass normal diplomatic protections,” he warned.

“Harold, we are a human society, with the Planetary Union its only government. It remains to be seen if the Kobani are legally even human, and Mirikami was instrumental in their unlawful genetic changes. That alone justifies the death penalty under our laws, and there’s little doubt he’d be found guilty. Why do diplomatic protections have to be provided for these criminals?”

“Mam, seventy eight Rim Worlds are not members of the Planetary Union, and all of them were settled pre Collapse, which was long before there even was a Planetary Union. Many of them do not wish to join us, or feel reluctant to do so because of statements they hear from our politicians, similar to what you just uttered. They each have diplomatic relations with us, an Embassy on Earth and Consulates on our other planets. I was one of the thousands of diplomats that dealt with them and an ambassador to two of them. If you don’t recognize the same rights for the Kobani, due them by right of your invitation to come here, the Rim Worlds won’t trust us enough to vote to join the PU anytime soon, if ever.”

“After the military expenditure we underwent to protect them from the Krall, we should just annex all of them, to share in the unwelcome tax burden we were forced to accept by the spend thrift DEW liberals.”

This was an argument he heard often from the far right wing of the LOR. He hadn’t realized how much Medford sympathized with their views. Her attitude, when fuelled by diplomatic ignorance, left his head swimming. He decided he’d possibly allied with the wrong political party, and certainly had joined forces with the wrong administration. For now, he had given her his allegiance, so he held his tongue. Nevertheless, the words of a future resignation came unbidden to his mind. Something else came to his lips.

“Mam, what do you want my Public Relations staff to say to the media? The four major networks have sent reporters and crews to the Capitol end of the Grand Mall, and the independent Hub world and local Denver news outlets will see and follow them.”

“We didn’t send them there. When no one shows up to talk to them, let that be the lead story tomorrow. The Kobani stood us up. I suggest you tell them to simply go home.”

She considered a moment. “No, wait. If they’re gathered over by the Capitol, they probably won’t notice a motorcade from the spaceport headed over to the McGlauflin office building. It’s nearly hidden behind the big Department of State complex. Make sure the motorcade drivers and police escorts keep their flashers and sirens turned off, and remove the little PU flags from the fenders. If they stay off main boulevards in the city, they won’t look official or noticeable.”

She was smugly satisfied she had found a way to put these offensive, self-important people in their place. She stood up, calling for her chief of staff. “Gillis, have my cars brought around. We’re going over to the McGlauflin Building early.”

****

Mirikami, standing by the airlock, took a deep breath, let it out and said, “Let’s get an early start. Pholowela, make us visible, and open both doors of this airlock. I want to make ourselves noticed. At least those of us we want to be seen.”

He had brought a thousand Kobani in armor, stealth now activated, half of which rushed quietly down the just extruded ramp and spread out around the ship. The others moved to places closer to the Capitol Building, climbing on lighting poles, leaping atop decorative walls, statues, and posted in places where accidental passer’s by wouldn’t bump into their invisible forms. It was near dusk, and it had been a very pleasant day, with clumps of tour groups and families walking around enjoying the holiday, most waiting for the nighttime lighting of the impressive government buildings and monuments to illuminate, just after sunset. The gold covered dome of the Capitol Building made for a particularly good photo opportunity from the Grand Mall when illuminated.

There was another one thousand one hundred thirty four hopeful people aboard Pholowela. Except for a few dozen of them, most had never called themselves Kobani. About ten percent of the group had received clone mods when they had lived on Koban, never expecting to get off the heavy gravity killer planet. They had all chosen to return to Human Space if they could, and held out hope they would be allowed to do so by the Planetary Union. They too would be watching the events about to unfold, but from within the security of the ship. They didn’t want to face arrest if things went poorly.

Maggi and Tet were the first two visible figures to walk down the ramp, dressed in formal wear currently acceptable at diplomatic functions, as Nabarone had relayed pictures in Comtap images that had originated with the Poldark Governor.

They were followed by Wister and Nawella as the Prada representative citizens, wearing natural fur, functional tool belts with a front pouch, and translator disks hanging from their necks. Next were Blue Flower Eater and Dewy Grass for the Raspani, wearing only their translator disks and moving with a slow gait, which humans inevitably described as a waddle.

Coldar and Tramakar came next, their translator disks stuck under the front of their carapace, deliberately holding their huge claws still, avoiding the natural clicking they found soothing when tense, but which elevated tensions for humans near them. Their walk, as with all crabs, was reminiscent of giant spiders, which triggered another phobia among some people.

The last of the Federation representatives were the young and proud Kobalt, and his white whiskered sister Kit, who both sleekly strolled down the ramp, brushing frills to exchange thoughts on the exciting new odors, and reminding one another to keep their teeth as covered as possible.

The Krall’tapi had postponed their formal presentation to the rest of humanity until a later date, provided this meeting proved fruitful, peaceful, and welcoming. They had not yet formally decided to become Federation members.

The remainder of the members of the diplomatic mission, all human and dressed formally, came down in a mixed group of men and women, which being full Kobani, they all looked too young for the positions they would hold. Most of them, in their seventies or older, were originally from Rim Worlds or New Colonies, and had never actually visited Earth. They were as excited as tourist’s, ready to take in the sights of humanity’s birthplace. Until Earth grew accustomed to aliens, it had been decided to staff the mission with Kobani.

It had occurred to Maggi, in an amused bit of introspection, that the common perception of their alien allies was that the hyperactive human species was unusually preoccupied with sex. She thought the notion had some basis in fact. That was because only humans had an elaborate clothing style to conceal their bodies, and the portions of anatomy that were most sexually related were the parts social custom demanded be covered in public. As if sex might break out at any moment if too much were revealed.

Even the Krall’tapi normally wore only tool belts, and their Krall descendants wore colored uniforms under their utility belts only as function indicators. Maggi’s brief mental flash of the Olt’kitapi, from Pholowela’s memory, suggested the adult forms of that species also appeared au naturale. She snickered at even the thought of rippers in pants.

Mirikami and Maggi kept to the center when the species representatives spread out and formed a wide line at the end of the ramp, with the Prada to their right, Raspani left, Torki far right, and rippers far left. The others members of the mission remained on the ramp behind them.

They had expected to have to pose there until news crews up on the portico noticed them emerging, but that had proved to be a zero wait time. The moment the big ship winked into view, gasps and shouts from pedestrians had turned all eyes their way. Then the organic looking movement of the main hatch, as it irised open and the ramp extruded, drew nervous looks from the closest pedestrians. The fixed mounted large Tri-Vid cameras up on the portico were frantically swiveled and elevated by their operators to get clear images of the large structure that had magically, and silently, appeared on the Mall grass. Smaller shoulder mounted cameras, belonging to crews from minor news organizations, had their reporters and camera operators scrambling down the steps, rudely pushing spellbound observers out of the way, all in a frenzy to get the best shots.

Using his Comtap link, Mirikami activated the external speakers of all of the invisible suits, now spread around the Mall and on top of walls, statues, and light poles. He employed the active speech mode, where he moved his lips and spoke aloud, so his lips were in synchronization with what his Comtap signal sent to the hundreds of speakers. Mirikami waved an arm over his head to identify himself as the speaker as he began talking.

“Good evening. Please do not be alarmed, and I ask that the public and media representatives remain in place. We are the people that requested this press conference. The people and beings you see by the ship on the Mall are member of the diplomatic mission the Galactic Federation has sent to Earth, to establish formal relations with the Planetary Union. This advance press conference is to introduce us to all the citizens of the Hub Worlds, although we have been known to spinward Rim Worlds and New Colonies for some time, as we helped them fight the Krall. That war is not completely over, but final and total victory is within sight. Part of our delegation, the ten of us in the front line with me, will walk from the ship and up the steps to the portico, where one representative of each of the five species present today will speak briefly. We have paired ourselves into male and female examples, to satisfy natural curiosity. The males are to the right, the females to the left” He stepped forward and turned to his left.

“Our envoy, Lady Margaret Fisher, is here to present her credentials as our ambassador.” Mirikami bowed to her, and she returned the gesture. Then he turned back towards the cameras and his audience, to introduce himself.

“I am Tetsuo Mirikami, the military attaché for the Galactic Federation. Our agenda here this evening is simple. When we reach the top of the steps, Ambassador Fisher will address you first, and then she will introduce our other representative species. After one of each pair of representatives has spoken briefly, using translator devices, Ambassador Fisher will answer a very limited number of questions, and we have a presentation prepared that we hope will assure you that the threat from the Krall is indeed ending. This must all be relatively brief, because we are expected to meet with President Medford and officials from the Department of State at nine o’clock.”

He could see the professionals in the media, looking around for the many sound sources that were carrying his voice. They could see his lips moving in synchronization with what they heard, and yet the volume wasn’t extremely loud because his voice came from many distributed locations, which kept echo reflections from the front of the Capitol Building to a minimum.

“I ask that you form a twenty foot wide space up the center of the steps, directly in front of our ship’s ramp, so that we may walk up to the portico. As you can easily see, we have non-human citizens with us, representing five of the six species that are presently part of the Galactic Federation. If you will make room now, we will start walking. Please do not make any effort to make physical contact with members of our delegation or approach us closely. There is nothing to fear from us, but due to necessary security precautions, no one will be permitted close enough to make physical contact. Please honor this request.”

That last restriction was going to be enforced by pairs of invisible Kobani walking between the paired representatives. It was to be done predominately by using invisible infrared beams and microwaves, to make it too hot for comfort for anyone to press forward. Then, if that failed to deter, by physically lifting or pushing them back if the beams weren’t adequate.

As it happened, the creepy looking Torki and the terrifying rippers fell in at the rear as the diplomatic mission started walking forward. Their presence assured that few of the still gathering members of the public wanted to crowd nearly as close as the twenty feet requested. There was also twice the spacing between the two Torki and the rippers at the very end of the group. It was as if the big cats were uncomfortable with close proximity to the crabs. As it happened, the space between them wasn’t as empty as it seemed.

The gap in the crowd on the sidewalks and street formed quickly and spread up the steps as, Maggi and Mirikami leading, started across the hundred feet of grass before reaching the first sidewalk, crossed the wide avenue to reach the steps. As previously agreed, everyone ignored shouted questions from the press and spectators.

Dozens of news crews descended from the portico level, and crowded in as they reached the steps, apparently thinking the standoff restriction didn’t apply to them. Perhaps asking themselves, what could the visitors do to stop them, right here in public? The prompt loss of two pricy shoulder supported Tri-Vid cameras that became too smoldering hot to hold, and increasing heat coming from ear buds worn by multiple reporters served to keep them back. One sound technician, his microphone extended on a long boom, watched in amazement as it mysteriously crumpled into a wad, just before Mirikami and Fisher came within five feet.

Suddenly, a small news camera drone, a device outlawed below a hundred feet over public assemblies like this, tried to zoom low from over the rear of the line. It apparently was being used to try to get a close up view of the huge teal colored tiger-like aliens at the rear. Kobalt heard its soft whine coming closer, and he’d turned his massive head to look back just before it fell out of the air, smoking. To onlookers, it appeared as if a glance from the intense blue eyes of the huge cat had somehow fused the little drone. Several people said as much, and flinched when the blue gaze of either cat turned their way.

Invisible hands ruffled the frills of Kobalt and Kit, and amused mental comments were exchanged as the drone continued to melt on the steps, invisible radiation converting it into slag.

Unable to see how this was happening, a number of the news teams that had clearly caught the events on camera, quickly pulled their reporters and equipment people back a bit farther than the respectful distance requested. The curious members of the public on the steps had already been shoved back by the rude newshounds, who had roughly shouldered them out of the way for the big story. Some of those abused people cheered each time a camera was lost, or a reporter pushed to get closer and suddenly halted, when forced to drop a blistering hot microphone or frantically slapped at an overheating earbud from his or her ear, mouthing curses that the competing local news outlets would delight in broadcasting later.

The entourage reached the portico level and formed a line abreast as they had in front of the ship below, which they now turned to face. The gap on the steps filled in with reporters, mixed with curious spectators. The press, on front and rear sides of the figures on the portico found an unyielding invisible ten-foot barrier that sometimes seemed flexible. A number of knowing disabled army veterans here as spectators, recognized an advanced system of body armor stealth when they “didn’t” see it. The diplomatic mission had obviously arrived with their protection.

Maggi stepped to the forefront, and now the voice coming from all of those elevated locations around the area carried her lilting voice, which had the distinctive accent of someone from Rhama. She knew she appeared much too young to be a stodgy ambassador, when in reality she was a stodgy bio-scientist, with sidelines in politics, diplomacy, and warfare. She just happened to look young, pretty, and blonde. This was fun, but she had hoped for some sort of confrontation with authority, to entertain the watching public around Earth, and eventually all of Human Space. She had a chip on her shoulder today, and that didn’t translate into a very diplomatic attitude.

As she started speaking, Maggi questioned in the back of her mind where Medford and the State Department people were right now. She had half expected them to send someone racing up the street from State’s complex on the Grand Mall. The Presidential Palace faced her now, on the opposite end of the long Mall, and she wondered if Medford was looking back.

****

“They’re where?” Medford yelled in a high pitch, but it sounded angry and not just a screech. Special Agent in Charge, Carl Ferguson, the head of her security detachment tonight, repeated his words.

“They’re conducting a press conference just up the Mall, in front of the Capitol.”

He added more detail. “It’s being covered by all the local and major news outlets. They interrupted regular broadcasting, and some of our agents watching Tri-Vid in the break room downstairs said they popped up their breaking news banner and interrupted regular programming. That press conference you told the news bureaus wasn’t happening is underway, Mam.”

“How the hell did they get there? I wasn’t even told they had arrived at the spaceport. We don’t meet with them for almost two hours, and their motorcade was to bring them directly here, to this building.”

“Yes Mam. I’m told the first images put on screen show them leaving a large structure sitting on the Mall grass, with what looks like an open airlock. It matches the shape of the alien spacecraft that helped evacuate and protect Meadow and Bootstrap. The Kobani and some aliens, or possibly animals, walked out of the airlock and started addressing the press and pedestrians over a public address system.”

“I want the capitol police sent there and have this stopped.”

“The Park Police are there now, but Denver Police don’t have jurisdiction on the Mall. This is a large crowd, and it’s growing rapidly. This is a holiday before a weekend. There are thousands of people from all over the Hub out there, waiting for the evening lights to come up soon. Twenty Park police are assigned to the west end of the Mall, and they can’t handle that size of an unexpected crowd. You would have to ask the Denver mayor to send in regular police, and grant them temporary enforcement rights on PU territory. As I said, the Grand Mall is outside their jurisdiction.”

“Send your agents.” She snapped.

The refusal came just as quickly. “I can’t do that Mam. Your safety and protecting the Presidential Palace is the extent of our legal authority. This is a Federal Park matter, or a situation calling for outside civil authorities, not your presidential security detail. We have thirty-five agents on duty tonight, and twenty are in the Palace with your family. I have fifteen agents right here, with us. They can’t go where you don’t go.”

“Stop telling me what you and I can’t do. This entire government enclave is PU territory. I’m Commander In Chief, so I do have some damned authority here!”

“Yes Mam. The Army has a small base near the spaceport, and there are probably navy ships there with perhaps some Marines aboard, and plenty of Marines up at Lunar Base. I think they have to respond to your orders Mam, even for a civil matter. Planetary Defense is outside my area of presidential security expertise, Mam.”

“Shut the hell up. Send Oswald to me. He’s in his office down the hall.”

Ferguson didn’t think telling the President that he wasn’t her errand boy, or reminding her that her Chief of Staff in the next room actually was her designated flunky, probably wouldn’t help his career progression. He anticipated he’d be protecting a different president in eighteen months, if this difficult woman were voted out of office. In the meantime, he hoped he’d not have to throw himself in front of a bullet or an explosive to save her, as he’d sworn to do, and would actually try to do if required.

“Yes Mam. I’ll have Secretary Oswald notified that you wish him join you.” He then lifted his left hand and spoke into his cuff button.

In the meantime, Gillis Frambolt, her C of S, heard the yelling and discussion and came in to see what he could do to help his always-complaining boss.

He held up a briefcase shaped object. “Madam President, I have your emergency com set here if you need to contact the Secretary of Defense, the navy or army Chiefs of Staff, the marine detail that pilots your local area flights, or anyone else you need to contact.”

“Thanks Gillis, I can always count on you. Anyway, I think Secretary Oswald and I will have to drive up the Mall to the Capitol and see for ourselves what’s going on. There isn’t any way a frigging spacecraft landed directly in front of the Capitol in daylight and the navy and the Park Police somehow missed noticing that. Have my car and escorts readied downstairs. If our guests are already here, and everyone else on Earth knows about it, I may as well go see them. It’s a photo opportunity I can’t leave all to them.”

She nodded to herself. “If Mirikami is there, I may have him arrested right where all my constituents can watch it happen live.”

****

Mirikami had previously heard what all the representatives were going to say in rehearsals, back on Haven, and until Kobalt’s turn came, he wasn’t paying close attention to Coldar, who was speaking now. Newalla and Blue had spoken for the Prada and Raspani respectively; and now it was the Torki’s turn to introduce their species to humanity. The crab, his purple upper carapace and amber legs coated with a glossy waxy substance that Coldar normally didn’t use, were gleaming in the camera lights, as the sun sank farther below the mountains to the west. The Mall lights automatically came on as he was speaking, giving the gilded dome of the Capitol a glorious golden glow, which also bathed the portico area with its reflected light.

Coldar had relaxed to his normal conversational mode, which meant his claws, and shell scrapes were fully engaged, and his native body language and speech was showing proper emphasis for the Torki people, who would watch the record of this historic moment later. For his words issuing in Standard from the translator disk, and repeated on the hundreds of Kobani suit speakers, the emphatic clicks, clacks, and scratches heard by people close to Coldar were out of synchronization with the human words used. At a distance, and over live Tri-Vid broadcasts, only Standard was heard.

This had all became background noise for Mirikami, and he was listening to Comtap reports from various Kobani perched high for sound projection and surveillance. One, placed behind the ship, was using her helmet visor to watch for activity anywhere else down the length of the Grand Mall.

“Sir, there are a string of vehicles with flashing lights that just came around the corner of a side street, close to where my grid map indicates the State Department buildings are located. There are twelve men and women in gray business suits, standing on narrow side platforms, two per side of three different cars, holding to roof handgrips. Deep scan shows they probably all have slim line pistols in at least one outside lower suit pocket, a heavier pistol in a left shoulder holster, and hidden under the jackets of three guards per car are short barrel laser rifles with suspension straps hung from their right shoulders. A fourth person of each car has what appears to be a short barrel plasma rifle with a large power pack.”

“Ah, that must be a presidential motorcade with Medford’s security, coming to see what we are up to over here. Coldar is nearly finished speaking, so I need to frill Kobalt and prepare to introduce him. This is when the public in Human Space learns about contact telepathy, and some of our gene modifications. I’ll bet that stirs some controversy.”

Revealing the telepathy secret had been a point of contention, because that ability in the Kobani had provided a distinct edge in dealing with Normals, and not only the Krall. The argument was settled when first Mirikami and Maggi, and then finally newly inaugurated President MacDougal said the secret could not be maintained. Stewart put it in terms that every Kobani could understand, and based his opinion on fairness, and over twenty years of sacrifice and suffering by a group of their reluctant former fellow captives.

“My friends, we have had among us people that wish to return to Human Space to live, some of them are sympathizers of the genetic changes that made the Kobani what they are, and some of them are even full Kobani now. As you well know, there are people that have never wanted to remain in the Koban system, even while living on Haven in easier circumstances. Many of them have objected to the genetic modifications that assured their own survival. A promise was made to allow them to return to Human Space when Koban’s location no longer had to be held secret to keep us safe from the Krall. The secret of our location is out to the Krall, and we have now removed them as a significant threat.

“Therefore, how in good conscience can anyone deny the people that want to leave the Koban and Haven system the chance to go home now? None of us ever wanted to be brought to Koban as captives, and yet we turned our prison world into our home. At least it is for the full Kobani. Some of our non-human allies want to resettle their original home worlds and leave the Koban system because even Haven isn’t their dream world, and we’ll help them. We should do no less for those that want be repatriated to Human Space. They certainly all know of the changes we have undergone, and some of them will not remain silent. There are already military leaders in the army and navy that know of most of our genetic changes, if not about Mind Tap. I think all of our genetic secrets should be revealed to the people of Human Space by us, on our own terms, and not leaked out as if we were ashamed of them.”

And so it was decided. A revelation would be made just prior to the attempt to establish diplomatic relations. This way, the Kobani genetic mods would not appear to be some secret they had tried and failed to hide.

Coldar was ending his prepared speech. “As fellow intelligent beings, we invite you to visit our worlds, to engage in trade, to exchange culture and knowledge. As in Human Space, where you have the Planetary Union with its member planets, our Galactic Federation has member species, like separate states, which will be spread among many planets. There are hundreds of planets that were home worlds and former colonies of the Prada, Raspani, and the Torki. There are many hundreds more that were inhabited by species that you have never heard of, and most of those you will never meet because of Krall genocide. We will seek out survivors of those peoples and invite them to join as, as new species states of our Federation, and enable them to return to their original worlds. We have literally thousands of habitable worlds with no populations, or some have remnant Krall and their forced labor left on them. If people from Human Space wish to live among us, settling on worlds within our vast volume of space, they are welcome. Provided they come with the understanding that they will become citizens of the Galactic Federation, and must abide by our constitution and laws, which state that all of our worlds are open to citizens of all member species.

“There will certainly be more threats in the galaxy than the Krall, and it was the humans in our Federation that defeated the Krall. The Kobani will be our guardians, our interstellar police force, if you will. We await your government’s answer to our offer to exchange diplomatic relations. Thank You.”

Coldar skittered back to his place in line, and Mirikami and Kobalt walked to the front and center position. Mirikami’s voice sounded again from the hidden speakers, and curious onlookers and news people alike were comforted by seeing his hand resting casually on the ruff of flesh and fur around the big beast’s muscled neck.

“Gracious Ladies and Gentle Men, the next speaker is of a species native to the planet where the Krall took the first human captives for combat testing, before starting the war with humanity. A planet that came to be called Koban by the human prisoners brought there, and where we who now call ourselves Kobani struggled to survive. We endured gravity that is more than one and a half times that of Earth’s, suffered wide swings of seasonal temperatures, from blistering tropical heat to frigid artic cold. We also had to survive the astounding lush variety of native life of that planet, which evolved a musculature and bone structure that allowed them to thrive in that high gravity. For all that, those weren’t the most remarkable adaptations they exhibit, because animals on Koban have a nervous system that is unique among any life forms we have yet encountered in the galaxy.”

He let that sink in for a moment, as the questions started to form. “Every type of animal life we’ve found on Koban employ’s organic superconducting nerves. These superconducting tissues evolved very early in primitive sea life there, and it had an evolutionary advantage, so the trait was passed down to every form of animal life that evolved from them. We now know that heavy metals in Koban’s crust provide the rich variety of minerals, elements, and rare earths required for this evolutionary adaptation.”

He patted Kobalt. “This friend of mine here, named Kobalt, fearsome looking as he is, represents a species native to Koban, and despite the lack of a technological civilization, they are highly intelligent. They had never developed an articulate spoken language because, as I’ll explain, they didn’t need one. When we first encountered them, we thought they were savage predators, and unbelievably cunning. Of course, predators they are, but then so are humans. Humans kill far more often than do Kobalt’s people, and we frequently don’t do it for food, as they do. They have never gone to war with their own kind, but have joined us in combating the Krall, who kill for pleasure.

“We were enemies initially, and in fact humans were prey animals to them. That was before we raised two orphaned cubs that had lost their mother to human hunters, and we quickly discovered we both had aware and intelligent minds. This was made possible when we shockingly learned they had a form of communication, found nowhere else in Human Space, or possibly anywhere else within the galaxy.

“This unique form of communication is due to a one-of-a-kind fluke genetic mutation on Koban, which took advantage of the superconducting nerves in a long ago feline analog of Kobalt’s people. They can directly share mental images, thoughts, and emotions, as well as making a range of audible sounds that you would expect from something like a tiger.”

He grinned, “Believe me, their roar is nearly as bad as their bite, and it communicates exactly what you would expect. Terror, you if you are the one being hunted.”

Pulling again at the frill on the side of Kobalt’s neck, he said, “This fleshy tissue under the fur around their necks is full of nerve endings, and we call it a frill. It is as densely packed as the nerves in human fingertips. Except these nerves are superconducting, so the tissue is very sensitive to even what we would consider weak signals. They are linked directly to their brains, in a region that corresponds to a language center.”

He looked up. “In short, they have an ability we describe as contact telepathy. Kobalt and I have been exchanging thoughts even as I spoke to you. He not only understands Standard, he speaks Standard in his thoughts to humans. This is not like the Tri-Vid dramas, where some fictional character sends thoughts through space and speaks to you, or can detect your thoughts from a distance. You must be in physical contact to exchange thoughts with a ripper.”

They’d decided they would discuss Comtaps later, if at all, since not even Kobani, without a device connected to their brains, could engage in thought exchange at a distance.

“He can communicate not just with his kind and humans this way, but so far as we can tell, it works with any creature with a mind and a nervous system that makes physical contact with a ripper, particularly with this ruff, which as I said, we call a frill. Knowledge of another intelligent creature’s language isn’t required to communicate, when you each can share your mental images, and direct meanings and feelings. Language did however, come early into the life of Kobalt, and to his sister Kit, who is sitting behind us. They were those first two orphaned cubs that we raised, and they have lived among humans their entire lives. They are family to those they live with, and they consider those people to be their family in turn.

“They have a far deeper connection to us though than merely our ability to communicate, and to love one another as family. Humans were not going to survive for long on Koban, let alone thrive, after being abandoned there by the Krall to die. We had to do more than adapt in the traditional way to the conditions there, and we were determined to survive, to get off the planet and go seeking the genocidal killers that had destroyed the civilizations of seventeen previous species, and who had targeted humanity next.

“Except on Koban, we had too many flaws and weaknesses to survive there. Humans were not only too weak and too slow to match the Krall, but on that world, even small animals, birds, insects, and even some mobile plants could kill us. Yet, we noted that the Krall not only feared Kobalt’s people, they were even terrified of them. The Krall were hard pressed to kill rippers on hunts, even with guns, and many warriors on hunts failed to survive those meetings.

“Our enemy gave them a descriptive name we still use for our friends. They called them what translated from the Krall language into a word in Standard, which is ripper. Rippers are much stronger, and are far faster than the Krall. They also can think faster, see better, and have a better sense of smell to track them. We humans needed to be able to defeat the Krall, but we saw that only a ripper had the native ability to do that. We had captured bio-scientists with us, and geneticist. What do you think we did to solve our problem?”

He didn’t leave it to their imaginations. “You may have heard it rumored, so let me confirm the true parts of them for you. Every Kobani owes their strength, speed, night vision, and sense of smell to genetic modifications. Specifically, many of those traits were derived from the genes of rippers. We borrowed genes for nearly unbreakable bones from another Koban life form, and we have the ability to listen in on what the Krall say to one another in their ultrasonic language, thanks to genes from yet a different Koban life form.

“These physical abilities gave us a significant advantage over the Krall. Yet we wanted one other unique ability the rippers had. With it, a Krall cannot lie to us or keep secrets. That’s despite the impossibility of forcing them to speak aloud the answers to our questions. We have the same contact telepathy ability as a ripper. When we capture a Krall, we get answers when we ask questions while touching them, because they can’t seem to avoid thinking of what we want to know.

“Oddly enough, humans are so adept at lying and keeping secrets that it’s trivial for us to block our thoughts. Even our young children learn to do that with their parents, but a Krall is too arrogant to consider a human a threat, and aside from bragging, they really are poor liars. Adult warriors never seem to learn how to hide thoughts from us, something that our own children can do, as can our allied species. Our genetics, and the technological help from our alien allies, has enabled us to defeat the Krall. They are an old and evil species, which has wiped out multiple civilizations, and they would have done it to humanity. They are now on the run from us.

“All of humanity owes a debt to rippers for simply existing. Because they never developed a technological society, our allies and we Kobani have provided them with technology designed for them. I have been explaining how we became what we are, and where we copied the abilities that we have. Now I’ll let Kobalt use a brand new bit of technology, developed just for rippers, and he can speak for himself. He is the first ripper ever to be able to do so outside of contact telepathy.”

There was a brief pause, and then a deep bass voice that was just a bit too loud came from the speakers. It quickly adjusted to a baritone male voice, speaking Standard with an incongruous Rhamian accent. It took Kobalt only a second to regulate the Comtap implant, so he could speak like his father.

“Captain Mirikami, or my Uncle as I have called him all of my life, asked our friends the Raspani and Torki, to make a talking device to place in my head, so I can use it to speak to others, without having to touch them with my frill.”

Mirikami looked over at Maggi, enjoying the open mouth and shocked look. She hadn’t known of this enhancement, although she obviously knew about his undergoing rejuvenation in the med lab. Kobalt had also wanted to hide it from Kit, but the siblings had never been good at keeping secrets from each other. It was Dillon and Noreen’s faces he wanted to see right now, but he had to rely on Carson to capture the video for him inside the ship. Carson and Ethan already knew of this, because the damn cats couldn’t hide anything from them either.

Thad and Sarge were in armor and on security duty, right here on the portico somewhere behind him, so their expressions would be lost to him. He didn’t get to see surprised looks on faces as often as before, because of remote Comtap use when he revealed startling news from a distance.

As Kobalt went through his short prepared speech, Mirikami received some quick links.

“You sneaky dog,” came from Sarge. Thad said, “Well done.”

Noreen, with tears forming from the sound of her shaky mental voice, managed both to thank him, and threatened to get even in the same breath. “Tet, I’ll always be able to reach him now, anywhere. This is wonderful, thank you. But you hid this from me, and I can see Carson recording me for everyone’s amusement. There’s payback coming for making me cry in front of the family, my friend.”

Dillon sent him a mental image of Noreen with a smile and tears. “That’s one of your better surprises. She agonized over being away from him when he was shot and in the med lab, and we were deep in Krall territory. Thanks. I assume Kit will want one?”

“Ask Ethan. He learned about Kobalt’s Comtap from her, and he’ll know if Kit wants a rejuvenation treatment as well.”

“OK. I’ll leave you alone. I see that Medford’s caravan has arrived. She’ll be pissed.”

“I can see the car tops over the heads of the crowd on the steps. I wonder if she’ll push her way up through the crowd. Everybody seems spellbound by our talking tiger. The motorcade wasn’t noticed except by some people at the bottom of the steps. I wonder if she knows what we’ve been saying to the press.”

****

“I can’t believe the crap they’ve been saying. It’s contrary to everything I’ve said. I can’t even shut them up nor have it censored. It’s going out live over all the networks. I’ll have a hell of a lot of damage control to do.”

Secretary Oswald looked bemused. “Such as what Madam President? I haven’t heard anything contradictory to anything I’m aware that you’ve said on the record in public.”

“That furry rodent that spoke first, before we finished getting in the cars. It thanked the Kobani for rescuing its people from slavery on Krall worlds. Congratulated the Kobani in general and Mirikami by name, for disabling all of the war machines of the Krall, making it possible for humanity to defeat them."

“I heard that Mam. How does that conflict with any position I have heard you present publicly. I know your private feelings about Mirikami, but they aren’t calling you a liar, or attacking you in any way. From the reports I have from the governors of Poldark and New Dublin, the Kobani raced in and did fundamentally what the Prada said they did. They somehow disabled the Krall ships and all their major weapons. I understand our forces are now pushing them back, and killing them by the tens of thousands, since they refuse to surrender.”

“Well, that isn’t how I was planning to present events. It is my commanders in the field that are defeating the enemy, not the damned Kobani, led by Mirikami.”

Oswald looked at her askance. “The Prada female, Narwale I think she said was her name, and also that Raspani called Blue Flower, both said it was the human armies and navy who are now beating the Krall on the invaded worlds. They anticipate our military retaking K1. That seems to back what you wanted to say.”

Proving she had been listening to the broadcast closely, and that her politician’s knack for catching names was working, she corrected Oswald. “Nawella is the Prada’s name, and Blue Flower Eater is the Raspani. They’re giving the Kobani credit for things they couldn’t have done. That tubby little lisping sausage said that Mirikami sent part of his fleet into Krall territory to attack the Krall on their home planets after raiding K1. He left another part of the fleet at K1, sent part to Poldark and New Dublin, and sent other ships home to guard Koban. Attacking the Krall on their planets is what got Meadow and Bootstrap destroyed, and they almost included Earth the last time. It’s another provocation, and exactly what that war leader Telour warned us against.”

Mentally, the Secretary moved the day forward when he would submit his resignation. It was probably too late to distance himself from this administration. He spoke more boldly now that his mind was made up. “I was under the impression that pushing the Krall out of Human Space and saving our worlds was our military goal. How would that ever happen without provoking the Krall?”

“Kicking them off our planets and back to where they came from means you must give them a place to retreat. If you cut that escape avenue off, they will use their ultimate weapon again. Mirikami has left them no other option.”

Oswald held his tongue this time. She could dig her own grave. He’d start on his letter of resignation tonight, if she didn’t fire him first. Her bias wasn’t going to yield to any rational argument. She knew her legacy and the next reelection were slipping away from her, and she couldn’t accept that the more gracious, and smart course, was to tie her political wagon to the people that had made pushing the Krall anywhere possible. She had already publically declared Mirikami at fault for provoking the enemy, and she was apparently incapable of reversing her position now.

Even as few as the Kobani were, it didn’t seem wise to provoke a people so effective at war. He was listening to Mirikami speak again as they approached the Capitol steps, and heard how the Kobani had become what they were. Then he heard that they had given themselves contact telepathy, one of the multiple genes they had adapted from the very species he stood next to, as he made the introduction of what looked like huge blue-green tiger on the monitor screen in the limo.

This peace-loving diplomat didn’t want to try to face down people that shared so many genes with that fierce looking big sucker! He was reluctant to get out of the limo, but the livid look on Medford’s face made it apparent he had no option. She’d just heard the same claims made by Mirikami as he had, and he now realized that the real basis of her hatred for the man, and of the Kobani, was their genetic changes. Those were old laws, enforcement of which was not applied for decades between the rare infractions, but some personal beliefs on that three hundred year old subject were still strongly held, particularly if based on one’s religious background.

He remembered the church he’d once read that Medford had attended before rising higher in politics. It was one of the obscure fundamentalist faiths, and before the last election, her critics claimed she had distanced herself for the sake of appearing more of a middle of the road politician, able to draw support from the center, and not just the right. It appeared she was returning to her roots.

Medford looked from the Limo window at the backs of the crowd, which were so ensnared in the drama above them they hadn’t notice the arrival of her motorcade. It hadn’t been using any sirens, as they would have on a public street with other traffic.

“Agent Ferguson, use your men to make a path for us to the top.”

He looked at the person he was sworn to protect, then at the crowd, and decided that this wasn’t a hostile or antagonistic group, being comprised of essentially tourists and news hawks, it would be safe once his men got their attention and asked them to make an opening. This was Earth, after all, and detectors at every pedestrian avenue onto the Grand Mall and on doors in every government building assured no foot traffic reached here with weapons. He hadn’t considered the possibility that the big mysterious structure on the Mall was a spacecraft, and had carried invisible armored troops that had bypassed the weapons detectors. It didn’t resemble any spaceship he’d ever seen, even if he didn’t know how it had suddenly appeared.

A phalanx of agents, shouting and pushing, quickly caught everyone’s attention, and when word that the President was here, a ten-foot wide path to the top formed quickly. It wasn’t as wide as that granted the Federation representatives, but then the PU president wasn’t exactly an alien either, although Oswald now found her a bit frightening.

Before leaving the limo, Medford glanced one more time at the screens she had been watching as they drove over. “Who the hell do they think they’re fooling? That damned tiger’s lips aren’t even moving, and the silly shit that’s talking for him is using an accent from Rhama. Dumb damned inbred hicks.”

This has the potential of being a diplomatic disaster, Oswald thought. I can’t see how I can get out of looking like an ass along with her. He followed her up the steps with dread.

Kobalt had kept his speech very short, and ended with, “My own people have no prior experience of diplomacy, space travel, or of using technology such as I use now to send my thought words out to your ears. We look forward with excitement to…,” he paused to avoid the adlib he’d almost used, to hunt, and finished with “to visit on many new worlds. Thank you.” He couldn’t resist the slight smile, which flashed an inch of white incisors protruding below his previously held down upper lip. He turned with the same graceful motion he and Kit had displayed previously.

Maggi then moved to the front again, to field questions for the mission as the prospective ambassador. With the previous announcement that the Kobani had adapted the genes for the ripper’s strength, speed, and nervous system, more than one person now made the connection of the subtle grace and economy of movements they had observed, as the two Kobani had walked from the ship and up the steps. Their movements were like those of the rippers, and conveyed the impression of greater power than was being displayed, and that gravity here didn’t have the hold on them that it did on the watchers.

Glancing twenty feet down the steps in the newly opened gap in the crowd, Maggi said, “Welcome Madam President. We didn’t expect to see you before nine o’clock, our scheduled meeting time at the Department of State. Hello to you too, Secretary Oswald.”

Medford, practically stomping up the steps rather than appearing simply to walk up them, answered in a sour tone. “You were to land at the Denver Spaceport, where our security detail could protect you as you were driven to the meeting.”

Her words were picked up as if she were wearing a microphone, and rather than being heard by the few dozen people she expected to hear what she said, her words were broadcast all around the Capitol portico, and the Mall area immediately below them. This was because Maggi had routed what she heard, through the Comtap for transmission to the suit speakers.

Medford looked around, slightly startled, and sent accusing looks at the news media. They knew the rules of her public appearances. No ambush tactics allowed, when supposedly inactive microphones picked up unguarded moments. They weren’t to blame this time, and looked around as if they didn’t know how it was done either, which was a fact. Besides, this wasn’t a presidential press conference, and those rules had not applied until she arrived unexpectedly.

Maggi nodded agreeably. “Yes, well, we wanted the people of Earth, and in all of Human Space, to get to know our member species prior to a stiff and formal diplomatic meeting. We hope to become good friends and allies. This seemed like a pleasant manner in which to start that process, and we certainly never considered that we would require any protection from the gracious civility the citizens of the Hub worlds are known to exhibit to all visitors. As has proven to be the case this evening.”

True enough, if you discounted the damaged Tri-Vid cameras, overheated earbuds and such, which had only involved the notoriously pushy and intrusive news media. Reporter behavior was why press conference rules existed, and violators of rules for official government press conferences had their press credentials revoked for a year for each violation.

Medford was abrupt. “Well this press conference is over. You can travel with my motorcade to our meeting.”

“I’m sorry Madam President, but I offered to answer a limited number of questions from both the press and citizens present here. I assure you we will arrive at the State Department complex in ample time for our nine o’clock meeting,” she listened to a tenth of a second Comtap link and continued. “Unless our meeting was not being held in the customary hearing room, where such diplomatic meeting are conducted with Rim World representatives and New Colonies, prior to their decision to join the Planetary Union. I would certainly expect that the first diplomatic representatives of multiple alien races would have received at least the reception granted to a human settled Rim World.”

Mirikami had just told her the motorcade had originated from behind the normal State Department complex, suggesting they were to have been sent to a less official building, without any press invited.

With laser focus, Maggi looked at Oswald. “Do you not agree Mister Secretary?” She had noted his red face and obvious discomfort.

Letting his breath out in a rush, he was committed. A diplomat gain, even if for the last time. “I do Ambassador Fisher. The normal hearing room is available. Do you wish to accompany us now?”

“Mister Secretary, I’m sure you have noticed that some of our non-human species would have difficulty in traveling in one of your limousines, and it is impossible for the Torki to pass through the doors of any of the cars. We were hoping to enjoy a walk up the Grand Mall to observe the beauty of the architecture, and for our alien friends to see the heart of the seat of government of the Planetary Union. That will be after we conclude our press conference. We promise to be punctual.”

Now it was Medford’s face turning red. In her case, it was anger, not embarrassment.

In anticipation of an outburst, Maggi commanded her Comtap to amplify what she heard next by a considerable amount. What she heard was transmitted faithfully, and loudly, to the hundreds of suit speakers.

“I did not…,” and as the words boomed out, she froze in mid outburst. “Stop that.”

Without admitting she had done anything, the Comtap amplification was set back to the previous level. “I’m sorry Madam President, I don’t understand. Stop what?”

“Everything I say is being heard by everyone present.”

“But, this is a press conference Madam President. That is its very function, to allow everyone present to hear what is said.”

“I did not call this press conference.”

“That is true, Mam, I am the one who requested the press to meet us here in public. I’m pleased that you have decided to join us, however, if you aren’t prepared to participate in this unexpected gathering, I fully understand. We’ll finish shortly, after I answer a few questions.”

Thinking furiously, and wanting to force an admission of some kind that would put them in an unfavorable light, Medford said, “The Raspani representative, Blue Flower Eater, told us that Captain Mirikami divided your fleet. He left part at K1, sent part to New Dublin, part to Poldark, some to Koban, and some into Krall territory to attack their worlds. Was he correct in that statement?” Her sarcastic tone when she said Captain was warning enough that Medford thought she had a zinger for them.

At the lightning speed that a Kobani mind could work, and with Comtap providing secure communications, the strategy was prepared as Mirikami, Maggi and others coordinated the reply.

“Madam President, what our Raspani representative said was exactly true.” Maggi asserted.

“Then you Kobani have again exposed Hub worlds, and Earth, to the threat of total destruction by the Krall. By all navy accounts, after the joint K1 attack with the five navy task forces of Operation Forestall, you Kobani had a small fleet of a hundred eleven ships going into that battle, and you lost two. Now you proudly proclaim to have sent those few ships to five different locations to defeat thousands of Krall clanships. That is spreading a hundred nine ships a bit too thin to hold thousands of Krall ships at bay, don’t you think?”

The frank admission that followed, coming from Mirikami himself, surprised her.

“That’s absolutely correct, Madam President. The hundred nine ships we had after that fight at K1 was too few to fight the entire Krall fleet. However, when we returned to K1 on our own this month, we had picked up some additional captured ships by then. We hit them with a hundred seventeen.”

“Still too few to defend even a single world in Human Space, if the combined Krall fleet attacked.” She accused, with a snide smirk.

Mirikami shrugged. “Ten thousand ships would be too few to effectively defend more than seven hundred human worlds from four or five thousand Krall ships, which could appear unexpectedly, in full strength, over any human world. It could also have been an attack by one of the Krall super weapons suddenly appearing in a system. Like the one that hit Meadow and Bootstrap, and which then tried to destroy Pittsburg II.”

Medford felt he’d just helped her argument. “Thanks to your reckless actions we’ll find out, when the Krall destroy more Hub planets.” She was confident she had made an irrefutable point that would resonate with the people.

Chapter 8: Facing Challenges

Mirikami shifted tactics, going on offense. “And thanks to your private deal with Tor Gatrol Telour, when you betrayed us to him in exchange for his not attacking Earth, we were forced into making our desperate attack on K1 before the Krall could launch a massive attack on Koban.”

“That is a lie,” she answered hotly. “I did not tell the Krall where your base was.”

“Only because you didn’t know exactly where our world is. You suggested that the planet’s name was probably connected to why we call ourselves Kobani. You furnished him with enough clues that his scouts did look for us on Koban, and his next act would have been to attack our world and kill our families, while we would be away, fighting to save everyone in Human Space.

“Telour discovered that we were living on a former Krall planet they describe as ko ban, two words that mean training ground in their low Krall language, and which we named Koban from what we heard them say. Your action, personally helping the Krall to find us, forced us to try our extremely risky, but ultimately successful attack on K1.

“Let me remind you Madam President, that I said we have adopted the genetic ability for contact telepathy from the rippers. We have already obtained the details of your deal with Telour, obtained directly from the minds of captured Krall.”

Laughing, she dismissed his allegation and offer of proof. “You can fabricate any claimed information you wish when it can’t be verified. We all know that the Krall can’t be interrogated, they refuse to live as prisoners and kill themselves, assuming anyone could capture one alive. You again stand guilty of exposing Human Space to a relentless and ruthless enemy, who is willing to use a weapon for which there is no defense. Their planet buster.”

“To save time, I’ll bypass the verification of our information obtained from Krall minds, at least for now. Still, I must correct a serious misconception you keep repeating. I’m pleased to inform you, and all human worlds, that the enemy can’t use what you called the planet buster ships anymore. Those ships are independently intelligent, equipped with AI minds far in advance of our own AIs, and they are now allied with the Galactic Federation.

“We won them over to our side when we showed them how they were misled into starting fake, massive planetary scale construction projects by the Krall, which subsequently led to the destruction of nearby inhabited worlds. These ships have a form of Artificial Intelligence based on the minds of the ancient and peaceful species that created them, called the Olt’kitapi. We used our mental abilities to communicate with them, and explained how they were tricked. They will never allow that to happen again. All of our worlds are safe from that threat now.”

“We’ll believe that when we see proof.” The sneer in Medford’s voice was unbecoming a woman of her political stature. She was unraveling.

“Look down there.” He pointed at Pholowela on the Mall. “The ship we arrived on is one of those ancient Olt’kitapi ships that you called a planet buster. It is how we were able to arrive without a revealing gamma ray burst, and using its advanced technology, settled gently on the Mall unseen, to hold this press conference.

Medford didn’t yield that easy. “Then the Krall can still strike at us with the four to five thousand clanships my navy analysts estimate they still have at their command. Your hundred or so ships can’t defend against that many, nor can the navy.”

“The Krall had that many ships, Madam President, not anymore. Things have changed. As Commander in Chief of your military, I’m confident you must have been briefed on what happened at Poldark and New Dublin, and you seemed aware of our attack on K1 before that. Did the briefing tell you that we used a new technological bit of software, which acts a bit like a computer virus, and shuts down clanships and Krall weapons? That software virus was passed to one of our own captured clanships by a sister ship of the one you see on the Mall. It was programing designed by the Olt’kitapi, who also designed the weapons systems used by the Krall. It blocks the Krall from using that equipment. Those same weapons and ships will still activate perfectly for us Kobani, because we carry the quantum encoded key in our bodies as do the Krall, and we are not blocked.”

He unbuttoned the top of his formal tunic, and revealed the black oval of his tattoo. “Every Kobani has one of these tattoos with our DNA code pattern recorded, which allows us to use their equipment, even when the Krall tattoos have been locked out of those systems. Do you want to know where all those Krall clanships are now?”

“Stop playing games. Where do you claim they are?”

Mirikami gave her a cheerfully irritating smile. “I thought you’d never ask.”

He turned in place, arms held wide, and addressed the crowd and the press. “Everyone, please look up.” He gestured to the sky, and sent the Comtap signal to start the show. Most eyes, and all of the Tri-Vid cameras raised skyward. Except for the majority of Medford’s security detail, who continued to watch the crowd, and particularly watched Mirikami.

Four thousand silver reflections suddenly appeared in multiple concentric rings, forming a disk of rings that covered a large portion of the darkening sky overhead, where only the brightest stars had started to appear. The cloud cover was sparse.

The ships were reflecting the sun’s light, which was well below the horizon now, and they glowed brightly, their hull material not set for absorbing radiation, but changed to a mirrored surface that reflected it all. They were a hundred fifty miles up, and glittering like diamonds from the random atmospheric distortions.

Then, to Mirikami’s amazement, they all turned ruby read, then royal blue, followed by emerald green, then bright gold, as they altered their reflective properties in step, selecting from the spectrum of sunlight the frequencies to absorb and which to reflect. Lastly, the rings turned a Koban-like teal color and started to rotate, each concentric circle of reflected light moving in opposite directions by use of Normal Space drives. It was dazzling.

The extra colors and ring movement had to be Noreen’s doing, because he’d only discussed a motionless glittering formation using thrusters for light. When he saw Maggi recording his expression on a small handheld camera, he knew the two of them had worked together. He quickly sent the signal to send the fleet back into ghost status in Tachyon Space, well before the navy on Luna Base grew alarmed and launched missiles.

Maggi took up the narrative next, speaking to Medford and the media. “You just saw four thousand of the captured Krall ships, which we brought with us to demonstrate to you that we have eliminated the Krall threat to Human Space from the enemy fleet. We have taken possession of their ships, we have at least another five hundred besides those you just saw, and we are capturing stragglers daily.

“We are using those other five hundred craft to guard Koban, K1, Poldark, and New Dublin, from the stray arriving clanships I mentioned, which may have been in transit and are unaware of our new software weapon. We are continuing our search of former Krall planets for clanships we may have missed. The Galactic Federation lays claim, by right of conquest, to the captured clanships, and to the planets and volume of space, which we have taken from the Krall.

“That volume of territory is roughly eight thousand light years long on the Orion Spur Arm, by nearly eight thousand light years wide, and perhaps one thousand light years thick in the plane of the Milky Way. You should compare that to the approximately five hundred light year radius of the much smaller sphere that comprises all of explored Human Space. The Galactic Federation now controls, at a conservative estimate, over eighty thousand times the volume of space that the Planetary Union has under its umbrella, even if you include all of the Rim Worlds, which are not actually part of the PU.

“The Prada, Torki, and Raspani, will resettle their original home worlds, and as many of their former colonies as they are able support There are at least seven or eight thousand habitable worlds available for colonization by all of our member species, which I would like to remind you, we humans are one of those species. The Kobani presently are the only human representatives within the Federation, but we have ample worlds for immigrants.

“We propose to negotiate a mutual defense treaty with the Planetary Union, but only after diplomatic relations have been established. Your navy commanders will surely confirm that we Kobani can operate these captured ships considerably more effectively than the Krall could. That’s because they watched a hundred ten of our ships fight off many hundreds of clanships, when the Krall tried to move in and finish off the three damaged navy task forces at K1, at the end of Operation Forestall. We now have a large enough navy to defend the worlds that we claim, and the Krall effectively have none to attack us, or you. This is cause for a joint celebration.”

Medford had briefly been as awestruck as everyone was, at the sight of so many gleaming warships overhead. Then she grew angry. “Fisher, the thousands of clanships captured at Poldark, New Dublin, and at K1 were on our colony worlds, so they rightfully belong to the Planetary Union. Only those clanships found in Krall territory would belong to your new so called Federation.”

Mirikami snapped out a reply to her rudeness, and her deliberate failure to use the proper title of ambassador for their official envoy. He replied in kind. “Medford, in twenty three years of fighting the Krall, tens of millions of your PU forces never captured a single operational clanship. In just over one year, we Kobani have destroyed thousands of them, and captured more than four thousand five hundred of them intact. Our people are able to fly them, while not a single navy captain can so much as open their damned hatches. Without our help, those same ships would now be supporting Krall invasions on your worlds.

“New Glasgow, a Hub world, is where the next invasion was intended to go when we, with difficulty, convinced your military to conduct Operation Forestall at K1. Now we’ve captured all of the remaining Krall ships in combat, and I’m telling you that we intend to keep them. Anyone that wants them can try to take them from us! If you thought the Krall were tough bastards, I suggest you don’t challenge the people that kicked their bony red asses!”

It had been a long time since she’d had anyone speak to her that way, and it caused her to take a step back. She glanced at her fifteen security agents that moved to surround her now, and saw they were tensely watching the two Kobani and the aliens, as well as the crowd around them. She remembered that Agent Ferguson had told her he didn’t have arrest authority in civil matters that did not involve his assigned duties to protect the President, or the Presidential Palace. She saw she had her presidential protection surrounding her, therefore the other thing she needed was some civil law enforcement.

She spotted the closest officer of the Park Police, a corporal, directing the crowd to stay a respectful distance from the VIPs. Half of the forty officers on duty tonight were at the other end of the Mall, and his sergeant was somewhere still enroute with additional officers. This had not been a planned event on the portico, and the Park police had been scattered all around this end of the Grand Mall.

“Officer, I want you to arrest this man.” She pointed at Mirikami.

He gave her his best deer-in-the-headlights stare, and stammered. “Uh,.., I mean, what Mam? Ah…, on what charge?”

Corporal Baldwin had been involved with trying to control the crowd, and he hadn’t really listened to what was said here. He only knew it was an impromptu press conference called by some diplomats. He’d had idiots, mostly news equipment technicians, climbing onto things that were off-limits, and wading through public fountains to provide the best support they could to their on-air reporters, when earbuds suddenly failed, microphones quit working, or cameras somehow overheated.

Obviously, the formally dressed man he was asked to take into custody hadn’t tried to assault the President. He knew that had to be true, because the man was still standing upright, and her heavily armed security detail hadn’t moved to subdue him. He knew he had to respect diplomats, and that they had immunity from arrest and prosecution; that was part of his training, but a corporal didn’t know a diplomat from a hole in his shoes until they showed him their credentials. He did know that the president damn well outranked his police chief, but in two years on the Park police force, he’d never had any high-ranking politician even speak to him before tonight.

The only weapons Park Police were issued were collapsible billy sticks and nerve Jazzers. Hub worlds didn’t risk the occasional death of their normally peaceful and civil citizens with the use of tasers, or even projectile weapons loaded with rubber bullets. The man the president pointed to was standing right next to the same big beast he’d seen him petting, when he introduced it a short time ago. That talking predator looked like it could probably take down and eat an elephant from the Park Zoo.

Where in hell is my sergeant? He asked himself, looking around desperately for anyone of higher rank he could defer too.

Mirikami, also startled by her instructions was baffled. What does she think she’s doing?

He knew the Vienna Convention, the diplomatic model the PU had borrowed when it formed its interstellar government after the social Collapse three centuries ago. That document gave him diplomatic immunity, described under at least two of its Articles.

Mirikami spoke to her coolly. “The corporal asked a good question Madam President. On what charge? Unlike you, he’s probably aware that I have diplomatic immunity as a member of the Galactic Federation’s mission, which you personally approved for our visit. Even if we have not formally recognized one another, we came here under diplomatic protections. I’m the Federation military attaché, thus covered by that immunity. In addition to that, I’m married to our prospective ambassador, so I’m also part of her family. Covered again.”

Medford hadn’t known about the marriage, but her words to the officer had gone out over the airwaves live, and the eager reporters were muttering sotto voice to their audiences about the developing tense standoff.

Oswald abandoned all hope of leaving his job quietly now, on his own terms with little public notice. He could not stand here and not furnish his boss the advice expected from a Secretary of State. Even though he was certain she wouldn’t like what he would tell her, particularly in front of the cameras, the ground where she foolishly chose to pick her fight. He would try to salvage his own reputation anyway.

“Madam President, if Mister Mirikami,” he carefully avoided using the title Captain, since she had exploded over that reference previously, “is the husband of Ambassador Fisher he would be protected under Article 10 of the adopted Vienna Conventions, and he certainly is protected under Article 7 as a member of the staff for their mission. Nevertheless, by our rights under Article 9, we can legally declare him persona non grata, and order him to depart Planetary Union territory.”

Medford wasn’t having any of that. “I don’t think that piece of paper should permit a war criminal, complicit in the genocide of our citizens, to escape justice. Not in the Planetary Union while I’m President.”

Mirikami nodded to his wife. Maggi had predicted this assertion might be what Medford would consider an allegation that would gain her the most public support. Their genetic mods violated PU laws, but that was done outside of the PU borders. They had not harmed anyone in the PU, and they had now clearly provided lifesaving benefits to everyone in Human Space. They had a rebuttal in mind that Medford couldn’t have anticipated.

“Madam President, I don't hear you placing any blame for the attacks on Meadow, Bootstrap, and Pittsburg II on the Krall. Specifically, why not blame the Krall leader that planned it, ordered it done, and was actively preparing to do it again. Tor Gatrol Telour, the Krall supreme war leader.”

“He will be held to account, if we can capture or kill him. The Kobani, under your leadership, forced his hand by your provocations. Billions died as a result.”

Shaking his head he said, “Telour used the planet buster, as you called it, when the war wasn’t going his way, and he fully intended to use that weapon again, to teach humanity to not fight back so hard. They wanted to slowly exterminate us at their preferred pace. I know his thoughts.”

“I guess we are supposed to take your unfounded word for that?” She laughed cynically.

“Perhaps you would believe it firsthand, from Telour.” He mentally alerted Thad and Sarge.

“I doubt he’ll be so cooperative as to support your lies.”

“Why don’t we ask him?” He waved his hand at an open area behind the line of Federation representatives.

A tall gray box abruptly appeared there, as the power chords from Greeves and Reynolds were disconnected from the oversized stealthed case. They had carried it up the steps earlier, walking in the wide spacing between the Torki and rippers.

Mirikami walked over to the six-foot high container, with a four-foot-by-four-foot square base. He used his foot to snap four catches open at the bottom on each side and stepped back. As if by magic, the entire upper section lifted smoothly from its base. The levitation coming courtesy of the two unseen men in armor, who then set the cover down behind the prisoner.

There were gasps as legs, torso, and finally a pair of glowing hate filled eyes were uncovered. It took a moment for the realization to sink in that the Krall was tightly secured in what appeared to be a very heavy-duty motorized chair. He was bound at ankles, wrists, elbows, chest, and neck by heavy gleaming alloy bands, two inches wide and an inch thick. In addition, there was a heavy open wired mask fitted over the tooth-filled muzzle, which was bolted to the high metal back of the chair, preventing the warrior from turning its head or thrusting it forward.

Telour’s eyes were darting around, taking in everything he could see as he built a mental battlefield map, so he could act and move even with his eyes closed, should an opportunity arise. He didn’t expect to escape, but dying covered with enemy blood was acceptable.

A number of details drew his immediate attention. There were fifteen short-barreled laser and plasma rifles trained on him by non-Kobani humans, both males and females, wearing similar colored clothing that did not seem like human military uniforms. Their bearing and focus on him definitely appeared to reflect military training, but their scent, the way they moved, and tension in their stance proved these were ordinary humans, because a Kobani always seemed calm and relaxed. They had moved to surround and protect a frightened looking human, a female from her scent, who had tightly bound head threads. Hair, as humans called the useless decorative growths. He surmised this was the human leader, whom he’d been able to hear, and he wasn’t impressed.

Of course, he’d been able to scent the cursed odor of Mirikami all along, as well as that of three former slave races. The smell of two Raspani nearly made his mouth water. He was disgusted beyond measure with the nutrient gruel they had piped directly into his two stomachs since his capture. The sharp scent of the rippers surprised him, since they were outside the ship, and he’d not expected them to be present among Earth humans.

The container, in which they had placed him and his imprisoning wheeled device just before he left the ship, circulated external air for him. The box also wasn’t sound proofed, and he’d been able to hear much of what was said outside. His efforts to snarl, to utter a scream, or even to speak, to try to disrupt the humans around him in any way, had all been thwarted. At first, his disability was due to the effects of the drug that had been given to him. The drip tube with nutrients that also delivered the drug had been removed, long enough ago that full feeling had returned to his limbs. He was certain he could now stand and fight if not held so tightly.

When he’d attempted to make any sounds as he was being carried in the box, electrodes embedded in his throat, attached to nerves in his vocal chords had sent paralyzing shocks into the muscles there. He could make heavy breathing sounds, but a small computer in the wheeled chair prevented him from making audible sounds. The shocks were painful, but for the satisfaction of disturbing the humans and insulting them, the pain would have been endured. Unfortunately, the electrical shocks sent the muscles for speech into knotted paralysis for long seconds after each attempt.

He could squirm in his seat a bit, flex his fingers and toes and extend his talons, such as they were. The latter felt shameful because they had trimmed them to blunt nubs. When he’d grasped at the humans and pushed out the rounded ends of his finger talons, before being placed inside the box, they had snorted loudly and derisively in Krall humor. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction now. He knew he was surrounded by normal humans. Perhaps a careless one would be stupid enough to come too close.

He could easily crush an ordinary human’s hand and pinch it completely off if they came close enough for him to get a grip. A Kobani’s hard bones would barely flex, and they might squeeze back and break his fingers or a hand in retaliation. The broken bones in both his arms had taken days to heal strong enough to move them without pain. The bones were now adequately self-repaired, and he hoped he’d find a chance to demonstrate that.

Mirikami removed any doubts for the observers as to which Krall this was. “Madam President, Gentle Ladies and Men of Earth, and the News media, I present to you, Tor Gatrol Telour, the war leader of all the Krall clans.” He used his Comtap to send the radio command to the simple AI that controlled the chair, to disable the vocal suppression system. Telour wouldn’t even know it was deactivated until he tried to speak.

Mirikami saw the wide-eyed expression on Medford’s face, and recognized her sudden concern. She feared that her indirect dealings with the Krall war leader would be revealed. She wasn’t sorry she’d offered to trade Mirikami’s people in exchange for Telour withholding use of the planet buster again. Far from it. Although, her actions to sacrifice them and their families to the Krall could be seen as justification for the Kobani again attacking K1.

Secretly dealing with the Krall and offering human lives in trade to an enemy that accepted no truces, and showed no mercy, wouldn’t present her in a favorable light or as a strong leader, regardless of her motives.

In a pretense of good manners, Mirikami grasped the back of Telour’s left hand, and introduced Medford to him. “Tor Gatrol Telour, leader of all the Krall, I present to you President Erthrid Medford, the leader of the Planetary Union.”

In a fast mental exchange, he said directly to Telour’s mind, “After I give you to her, my public dispute with her will end, and I will have my status restored.” He knew the concept of earning status would resonate with the Krall.

“Your quiet execution by her will be even less honorable than the death of a disgraced berserker warrior. The false and disgraceful agreement she thought she had made with you will remain her secret. Speak the truth here and I will grant you a Death Challenge. Your voice is restored.”

Telour’s hate-filled eyes remained locked on Mirikami when the human backed several steps away. He tested his voice. It sounded much like a snarl as he started speaking, but his Standard was understandable. “Human clan leader Medford, a Krall war leader is not bound by honor to keep an agreement with a weak prey animal such as you. If the death ship below and behind you had obeyed my commands, your home world, and all of these animals standing on it would today be dead meat floating among the molten lumps of this planet, as they orbited your star. I only agreed to speak of this because Mirikami has offered me an honorable death by combat with him. I don't care what stupid, stinking animals like you think, or want to know.”

There were gasps from some in the crowd. He wasn’t finished.

“For holding the position of clan leader of Human Space, you had poor knowledge of the Kobani, the best and most effective fighters you had. In your cowardly weakness, you were ready to trade them for the safety of your worlds, which I would never give you. When you told me the name they used was Kobani, and said they lived outside of Human Space, you suggested it was a form of the name taken from their home world. I remembered that this name sounds like the low Krall words for a training place. You were right. The Kobani name is taken from a world that our first human prisoners called Koban.

“We should have killed them when we left them to die there, more than a breeding cycle ago. I knew them, and I knew this small human. I gave Mirikami that mark on his chest, and gave him the title Worthy Enemy. He and his people convinced our clan leaders that humans were capable of fighting, and that we should not kill all of you swiftly. We were wrong.”

Eyes and cameras focused briefly on the black oval at the base of Mirikami’s neck, still exposed by the open flap of his tunic.

“He has proven more worthy than I thought was possible for an animal. I should have killed him then. It is not too late. Mirikami, I offer you a Death Challenge.” Now he’d learn if the little human also had honor.

Mirikami had kept his eyes locked with Telour’s as he spoke. He nodded his satisfaction. “I accept your challenge, and I chose hand to hand fighting, at this place and this time. I must explain to the watchers what will take place. Otherwise, the President’s guards might shoot you before the challenge begins.”

Before he could speak to the crowd, Medford yelled a series of denials. “I made no such agreement. That must be an imposter claiming to be Telour. He’s lying. Mirikami made him say that.”

Telour’s eyes flared at her, the pits glowing red in the light of the cameras. “Clan leader Medford, if it would not dishonor me to fight an animal with so little honor, I would challenge you next, after I kill this one. I know I will not leave this place alive, but I will die as a warrior, after I kill Mirikami and your warriors shoot me, or if he kills me.”

“That sure as hell isn’t going to happen,” she shouted back. “This is the heart of the Planetary Union. We are too civilized for duels.”

Mirikami smiled at her words. “Lucky for Telour’s wishes today, and for the human race, as a Kobani I have more than a trace of ripper blood in me. I’m not nearly as civilized as you seem to think. Would the Federation representatives please move to the sides to make room?” Maggi moved with them and looked concerned, even though she had Comtapped with him about what was required.

Agent Ferguson spoke for the first time. “Sir, I’m Agent Ferguson. Are you proposing to release that Krall and fight him here in front of the Capitol? I can’t permit that. That would place the president in jeopardy.”

Mirikami tried to reassure him. “I can understand your concern, but she is in absolutely no danger. Even if Telour defeated me in unarmed combat, which he will not do, he’s under no illusion that he can successfully attack the president, or escape. The other Kobani with me will not permit that to happen, and he is aware they are present.”

Ferguson looked at the shorter than average young looking man. He had a muscular build, but frankly, he thought any of his agents could take him down with one hand in their pockets. He glanced at the Krall, easily three times the mass of Mirikami. Then he looked at Maggi, even shorter than her husband, and more slightly built. They were the only two Kobani that he could see, and they hardly seemed imposing.

Watching the agent’s eyes, the cause for his concern was easily deduced. There was only one way to reassure him that the Telour couldn’t threaten the president, but that proof would scarcely diminish the agent’s worries. Mirikami saw no alternative.

“Special Agent, I ask that you and your detail to not overreact to what you are about to see. Our representatives did not walk up here from our ship entirely alone. We have protective escorts.”

He spoke softly, which came from the disembodied speakers, as Comtap passed his instructions to the minds of everyone in armor. “People, let’s prove the President has adequate protection from that Krall. Stealth off please.”

One thousand white and black armored figures winked into view, spread all around the end of the Mall, up on the portico, hanging from light poles, standing on walls, and statutes, and they effectively surrounded the Galactic Federation representatives, including Mirikami and Telour. The reason the pushy reporters had been so easily held at bay was instantly apparent.

The warning from Mirikami, and their extensive training, kept any of the security detail from committing a foolish knee jerk reaction, thus risking a firefight, which they instantly saw they could never win. They had been vastly outnumbered from the start. Had the Kobani intended harm to the president, it could have been accomplished long ago.

That instant recognition didn’t occur to the onlookers, so it didn’t keep some members of the public from uttering a few screams and shouts. When Mirikami spoke to calm them, the distributed sources for his voice became apparent. Suit speakers on those armored figures positioned above them is where the sound had been issuing. There were some laughs now, and the army vets offered those around them more than a few I told you so comments.

Even Telour hadn’t suspected here were so many. He knew he’d been carried, but thought there were only two or three present. His Worthy Enemy left little to chance.

“I have accepted Telour’s challenge, and as such I can select the mode of fighting. I chose unarmed combat, to eliminate concerns of a stray bullet, beam, bolt, or thrown knife. Before we fight, I will free him from his restraints, and we will greet one another briefly with a salute, within the circle of these armored Kobani. After that, it is up to us to decide how to attack the other, or to defend ourselves.

“No one, and I do mean no one, is allowed to intervene until the fight is finished. If I win, Telour will be dead. If he wins, I’ll be dead, and so long as he doesn’t attack anyone else, my people will allow him to stay alive. He’s perfectly aware of where he is, and that the Planetary Union will hold him accountable for ordering Hub worlds destroyed. Either way, he knows he cannot survive this visit to Earth. This challenge to me represents an honorable warrior’s death for him, or a last combat victory against an old enemy he wants dead. I don't think he deserves this honor, but I saw no other way to provide him with a motive to describe the things he had done. We’re a species he considers animals, and we deserve no explanation.”

“Give us a minute to get the President into the limo,” Ferguson asked.

“No! I want to watch this.” Medford had heard so much about Kobani ability that she wanted to see the fight. If Mirikami died, or they killed each other, she wouldn’t shed a tear for him. However, she didn’t see any possibility he could win. It occurred to her that he’d elected a brutal form of public suicide rather than to face arrest and prosecution by the PU. That might be his plan, to garner sympathy for his people, and if that was true, she admired his sacrifice. She sure as hell wouldn’t fall on her own sword.

Mirikami turned to Telour. “When I release you and you stand, the chair and container will be moved away. You will have time to move your arms and legs to remove any stiffness before our salute.”

“Accepted.”

Despite his spoken agreement, Telour glanced at the two armored figures inside the ring of figures around him. He was seeking side arms he could grab, but they were carrying nothing like slung rifles or side arms that would be useful. Those other Kobani around him were all two leaps away, and they alternated between facing inwards and out. He’d not be fast enough to reach them before they reacted. He knew firsthand how fast they were, and how effective their armor weaponry was.

In a Comtap, Sarge said, “Tet, he just checked Thad and me out for eternal weapons, I think. He’s going to grab anything he can for an advantage.”

“I saw. Frankly, I assumed as much, since that’s been his trademark. He hadn’t wanted to leave us alive on Koban, despite the Joint Council’s agreement to do so. Telour conspired to have his clan mate Kanpardi killed, so he could take over his position as Tor, and he readily admitted today that he never intended to honor the agreement Medford thought she had with him. He has little respect for agreements within his own species, and none with us. He’ll try to die with a final kill, or two.”

The ring of armored figures was partly blocking the view of observers, and Mirikami informed Ferguson that the suits facing inward would activate stealth again, partly to provide visibility, and partly to provide containment that Telour couldn’t see.

As soon as those suits vanished, Mirikami sent the chair AI the release signal, and one side of each of the heavy metal straps suddenly released, as did one side of the facemask. Telour lifted his arms, pushed the mask aside and swung the chest and neck restraints out of the way. He tested how securely the stiff metal arcs were attached to the chair. They didn’t display any give, so he couldn’t tear them loose to use as weapons. He stood up and looked back at the motorized chair, seeking any loose parts. It promptly rolled away from him, and the two suited figures grabbed the heavy device and tossed it to figures on the perimeter, followed by the container’s base. Then they retreated to the edge of the improvise arena.

Mirikami walked to within a half leap, roughly Telour’s body length, and stood with his arms held loosely at his sides. Telour, standing sideways, his opponent to his right, he started flexing his torso at the waist, his arms, neck, and legs, curling and uncurling his fingers and toes. He was pleasantly surprised to note that the talons of his toes had not been trimmed, probably because Krall toes didn’t have the same grasping ability of their fingers. He’d not been able to see his toes while secured in the chair.

Telour saw that Mirikami expected him to turn and face him for the traditional salute of mutual respect. Therefore, he pretended to stretch his limbs and leaned in the direction away from his foe, placing his left hand on the portico surface. If he got him on the ground or in his grip, there would be no toying with this prey. He was far too fast and strong to risk that, as demonstrated back on the ship when the little human had captured him.

He’d not given him credit for the speed and strength he displayed that time. With time to think, Telour believed he knew why Mirikami had worn armor in that first confrontation. It was because despite speed, strength, and nearly unbreakable bones, Kobani flesh, and relatively uncontrolled bleeding, were their weak points. He didn’t have that layer of armored protection now.

His mind went into the accelerated thought mode of an attack. This would happen as fast as he could possibly manage. Using the slight give and the non-slip texture of the Smart Plastic that only looked like polished marble, Telour shoved off with a powerful thrust of his bunched muscles in his thick left arm, as his feet came up, talons extending as they rose, his short legs bunched in close to his lower torso.

He would simultaneously slash low with his left foot at the lower abdomen, to spill intestines, and go high with his right foot, aiming for the eyes and jugular vein on the side of his neck. His IR heat vision saw the vein on the right as the warmer and larger of the two neck veins, and the high Kobani metabolism revealed the heated blood coursing just below the fragile tissue.

His foe had been looking at him as he lifted his feet, both legs fully bent, so he would know a dual kick out was coming. No Krall could successfully block both powerful attacks, but a warrior had the physiology capable of fighting on effectively if only one blow struck. In addition, a Krall had the natural weapons to deliver considerable damage as they engaged a foe. A human had useless nails, and blunt teeth.

His experience with humans was that if either foot landed, that foe would fall to his second level attack, when his arms and hands reached out to gather in the bleeding body, and tore at the damaged area, while his teeth slashed at any exposed skin. Humans simply had too few natural weapons, counting too much on technology. He should have called for pistols again.

As he approached his target, he saw Mirikami bending at the waist, leaning in towards him. The neck target was going below his high right leg kick, which he had already unleashed, and his leg was still extending. If lucky, he might rake down his opponent’s back with the lower two talons on that foot. His left leg kicked out slightly late since it had been the last to leave the surface, but it was on track to tear at Mirikami’s abdomen. Telour lowered the aiming point of his grasping right arm and hand for the lowering position of the man’s head, when Mirikami suddenly pushed off with both feet and left the ground, his shoulders and torso going horizontal to the surface as he sprang toward Telour.

The man’s legs and lower torso lifted to line up with his upper body and shoulders, and started a twisting movement. He was now located between the former target points of Telour’s feet and talons. The Krall desperately tried to squeeze in his legs, but Mirikami was coming at him so fast that he nearly passed between his feet. Nearly.

Telour felt the tips of two toes of his right foot talons tear down the back of his opponent as they passed above him, even as Mirikami’s right hand shoved Telour’s left leg down and away from his own legs. The man’s left hand moved up and over the back of his head, a place where he couldn’t possibly see anything, and unerringly shoved Telour’s grasping right hand back into his chest. He was somehow passing between the feet and legs intended to rip him to tatters.

Now Mirikami’s right hand, no longer needed to deflect Telour’s lower left leg, flashed up in a blur, and grasped Telour’s approaching left wrist in a vice like grip. He used the Krall’s momentum to slide the length of the front of his body and past his head, making only limited contact, and pivoted around using the gripped left wrist, and twisted to land on his feet. The greater mass of Telour continued dragging the human several feet before the Krall hit the ground and slid to a halt.

Mirikami still had hold of his left wrist, but Telour agilely regained his feet. It almost appeared that the human helped him rise, and then released his grip on the wrist. He remained easily within that arm’s length of the Krall, who had roughly a two-foot reach advantage.

To Normal observers, it had happened so fast that it appeared like the two figures had nearly passed through one another, with the small man somehow coming out the other end after being engulfed by the long arms and muscular legs of his giant opponent. The short legs of a Krall were a matter of proportion. They were clearly longer than Mirikami’s legs, but were short in comparison to the Krall’s long torso, and his arms, which were a foot longer than his legs.

Medford had been shocked initially at how quickly she thought Mirikami had been killed, and was amazed when he miraculously appeared out of the grasp of his attacker, and even seemed to help him up.

Now that the Krall stood so close to the man, the size differential seemed more magnified than before. Mirikami was just over five and a half feet tall, with perhaps a half inch from the heels of his dress shoes, while the Krall, briefly out of its normal partly crouched, bow legged stance, stood just shy of eight feet. The red-eyed demon towered more than two feet over the man, and his thick muscled chest and arms, with massive shoulders, greatly out massed the man. Yet Mirikami stood there, looking calmly up at the apparition from a nightmare that glared back at him.

“So much for a respectful salute to start our fight, Telour.”

“That gave me the taste of first blood, human. It will not be my last taste today.” He was willing to let the loss of blood weaken his opponent while they talked. The man’s speed and strength had easily avoided an attack that he was sure would have left a Krall warrior far more debilitated than Mirikami was acting. His back must be ripped and bleeding from the upper shoulders down to his waist.

Mirikami shook his head, knowing Telour understood the gesture. “I’m afraid you didn’t draw any blood, although my tailor will be unhappy. My jacked is ruined. I should have listened, and let him make it from Smart Fabric.” He tugged at his right sleeve sharply and, with a rip, the fabric at the back of his neck gave way, and the right side of his jacket was pulled off. He tossed it over to Sarge, and then pulled off the left side, keeping his eyes on his huge opponent.

Tossing that away, he said, “Speaking of first blood, it’s already stopped flowing, but I did score the first status point as we passed.” He held up his left index finger, which was capped with a thimble sized artificial talon tip, which sometimes were used to insert into the activation slot of Krall plasma rifles.

The Krall wasn’t wearing his customary blue uniform, and there was a three-foot long scratch up the front of his chest, which showed a thin line of coagulated blood. It had been delivered when Mirikami had grabbed his hand and pushed it into his chest while brushing along his front.

“You carried a tiny weapon into what you declared was unarmed combat?” He snorted.

“Well, you carried eight longer ones on your toes,” Mirikami gestured at the Krall’s feet, and snorted in return. “You also used the dishonor of a deceptive attack to start our challenge match, without the customary salute of respect.” Mirikami flipped the little talon tip over to Thad, who snatched it out of the air.

“I don’t think you’re a worthy replacement for Kanpardi. Pendor told us how you conspired with him to kill your mentor, to obtain the title of Tor, without it truly being earned.”

Again, without warning, an enraged Telour struck out at Mirikami, with a left hand turned into a bony fist swung at his head, and a kick from the right leg aimed at his midsection.

Mirikami easily blocked the fisted hand coming around and down at him with his right forearm, where the portico’s surface provided him the friction and surface to oppose the blow without being moved back. The impact would have forced him backwards had it been delivered only horizontally, because sheer strength couldn’t overcome the laws of physics. The force of inertia from that heavy arm could only be opposed if he had secure footing.

The kick was diverted rather than blocked, and knocked aside by Mirikami’s own kick. Then, Telour brought his other arm and hand to bear, but his opponent was so short that he mistakenly continued to hammer down at him. The rapid series of heavy blows were easily deflected or blocked, but Mirikami wasn’t going to allow Telour to continue to look as if he were the aggressive one in this fight.

Slapping a punch aside painfully hard, Mirikami gained a fraction of a second to start a series of hammer blows into Telour’s abdomen. The eight punches, delivered in a veritable blur of hammer blows came from both hands, and sounded like a short bass drum roll.

Telour felt like he was being struck with steel pile drivers, and was forced to back away, futilely trying to avoid painful blows that found their way past his best efforts to block them. He bent over from the pounding. It felt as if he was being shot with a full clip of soft-nosed slugs fired on automatic.

Mirikami, short as he was, was still out of range of the Krall’s head, but frankly, he didn't want to bash his already scraped knuckles against those sharp teeth, and a knockout or killing blow wasn’t what he wanted. Nor did he want to break Telour’s kneecaps, elbows or arms. He needed to get higher, to reach the target he wanted. Having a giant opponent that appeared helpless against a smaller assailant wasn’t the image he wanted the Normals to see, even if it was nearly true.

He paused for a moment. “For a great Krall war leader, carrying the title of Tor Gatrol, I expected you to put more thought into this fight. You should put your heart into the effort. Both of your hearts in fact. I’m going to slap you around until you get serious about winning.”

He then leaped up onto the center of Telour’s chest, holding on with his left hand over the right shoulder, and started slapping him back and forth painfully, across his muzzle at the breathing slits of his nose with his right hand. Telour had the chance he’d been waiting for.

Maggi shouted “No, Tet!” Even as she did, she knew it was too late to change her husband’s mind.

With a scream of savage satisfaction, Telour instantly wrapped his long thick arms around his victim, and locked his hands together across Mirikami’s lower back. His nimble opponent had become overconfident. He would now break his back, or at the minimum, bend him so far backwards that his spinal cord would be damaged. Then he’d hold him by his ankles and swing him overhanded to slam him to the ground until he was a bloody rag covered bag of dead flesh.

The pressure of his death grip started mounting, and the little man must have recognized his plight, he wasn’t even kicking, or trying to strike at Telour’s head, which had been pulled back as Telour leaned away and it was farther out of reach. Mirikami grunted with the effort to breathe as he placed his closed fists on the Krall’s massive chest, and tried to push his upper torso back. This would be over quicker than Telour had wanted, but it would be a satisfyingly painful death.

It was indeed a painful death.

Mirikami shouted as he snapped his arms and fists back from the thick chest, the pressure of Telour’s arms and death grip holding him securely in place against the Krall’s lower chest. The small man knew what pain was coming for him next.

Using Telour’s secure grip to his advantage, Mirikami slammed his fists back into Telour’s upper chest with all his strength, shattering the ribs on each side, tearing through the flesh of his enemy, cutting the skin of his knuckles on the bone shards, and plunged his fists and arms into the thoracic cavity up to his elbows. There, his memory of Krall anatomy guided him, and he opened his fists to grasp the two massive muscles he sought.

With his eyes locked on the shocked and widening eyes of Telour, the black orbs with their deep red glowing pits staring back at him in disbelief, he spoke to him.

“You were never a Worthy Enemy Telour, but you turned me into one. You have destroyed your race, because the Great Path ends with you tonight. Humanity will continue, but you and the Krall will not.”

Pulling backwards, he ripped both hearts free, and pulled them still beating from the ragged holes in his chest, as he held them up where the dying eyes could see them. The body was dead but didn’t realize it yet, but the fully aware mind of Telour knew.

“I’ll feed these to our rippers, if they want them.” Mirikami told him.

He felt the grip on his back weaken, as the Krall, already tilted back from his effort to crush the nearly unbreakable Kobani in his grip, started to fall. Mirikami brought his knees up and shoved back against the arms, breaking the grip of the hands. As Telour toppled, Mirikami shoved again and managed to get his feet under him as the big body struck the portico with a massive thud.

He stood on the corpse, still looking down into Telour’s eyes as they dimmed, perfectly aware of how melodramatic the scene looked, and how savage he must appear to the Hub citizens, covered in blood up to his elbows, more on his shirtfront, and the now stilled hearts hanging from his lowered hands. It was a barbaric death for a barbarian.

He looked out over the stunned crowd, and the media, with their Tri-Vid cameras recording this for the ages. He stepped down and set the hearts on the chest of the corpse. “Citizens of Human Space, the leader of the genocidal Krall, the Tor Gatrol that ordered the destruction of Meadow and Bootstrap is dead. The war with the Krall is effectively over, and humanity has won.”

There was a quick smattering of self-conscious applause. The army veterans mixed in the crowd were not happy with that subdued reaction at all. Loud cheers spontaneously broke out and spread, as the clapping increased. Mirikami was surprised, but pleased, and the cameras panned over the cheering crowd, which responded with more cheers and applause as they saw they were part of this historic recording. He walked over to Maggi, who stepped up and ripped a piece of cloth from the formal tunic he’d discarded, and wrapped it around his bloodied knuckles. The Krall blood had quickly congealed and was flaking off, so the fresh blood was from Mirikami’s cut knuckles and hands.

As she bound his cuts, she told him, “I was ready to kill you myself when you let that big bastard grab you. I didn’t know what you had planned, but I knew you could have avoided him if you wanted, and then you let him wrap you up.”

“I needed leverage to punch through his ribs and chest without a running start, and I wasn’t wearing protective gauntlets. I got him to hold me where I wanted to be.”

From behind Maggi, they heard Secretary Oswald speak softly. “Ambassador Fisher, Captain Mirikami, you might not have achieved what you came for on this visit, but I’m confident that public sentiment will turn in your favor after tonight. I doubt I’ll be our chief diplomat by tomorrow at this time. It’s a tossup between my being fired or my resignation as to which happens first, but I’m positive the PU will be exchanging envoys with the Federation eventually. I’d shake your hand Captain, but it looks like you need some med lab time first.”

Maggi looked at him gratefully, but glanced around. Much of the press had apparently moved down the Capitol steps away from them. “Where’s the President?”

Oswald gave her a wry grin. “She finally listened to her Special Agent in Charge and started back to her limo. The cameras followed her, questions flying in case she had any statement before she left. She only waited to see who came out alive, I think hopeful it would be Telour. We’ll only have a few moments before the press comes back up here.” He smiled and offered an observation.

“Captain, I rather suspect that fight wasn’t as close as you made it seem. That was quite a dramatic finish, demonstrating you easily had the strength to do what you did. I think you frightened the hell out of the President.” He looked at Mirikami with a quizzical expression.

Mirikami misread the man. “We’re no personal threat to her, no matter how she feels about us! On the contrary, we half expected her to threaten us.”

Oswald waved that notion off. “Oh no, even with all the armored and stealthed Kobani you cleverly revealed at a strategic moment, I don’t believe she thought she was at personal risk either, or she’d have left when Agent Ferguson first asked her to go. I was referring to how you decisively dispatched Telour. No ordinary human could have done that or moved so fast. It was the entire fight, with your victorious unarmed David versus Goliath image, which frightened her. I can’t wait to see the slow motion Tri-Vid replays when I get home.”

“Ah, that. I’ll admit I could have beaten Telour without the dramatic extended fight, or the gory show at the end, but I thought I needed to play to the cameras and let everyone see brutal justice delivered to a brutal enemy. The military has seen us Kobani fight, and they have recordings to study, but the public has never been shown those confidential videos of us in action. Proving our claim that we really are capable of beating a Krall one on one seemed like a good idea, and none of them deserved to be a part of that object lesson more than Telour.

“We don’t want there to be some miscalculation in the future about our ability to defend ourselves and our vast new territory. We want a friendly relationship with the PU and eventually have them as our trading partner. We’ll be doing business with the independent Rim Worlds in the meantime, and any New Colony that wishes to do so.

“Tonight, I had to make damned sure that Telour admitted duplicity in the secret dealings with the President. She thought she could trust Telour’s offer to hold back their attacks, by sacrificing Koban for a deal to save Hub worlds that he never intended to honor. My offering him a death match challenge was a way to get him to speak about that publically. Otherwise, he didn’t feel a need to explain anything to us useless animals. I frankly knew it would damage her image to have that contact with the enemy revealed, which might offer a counterweight to her hatred of our very existence. We had a Kobani as a Comtap link inside the Presidential Palace, and that young woman knew of Medford’s unspoken intense dislike of us because of our altered genetics. We didn’t reveal Mind Tap for that very reason, because it really is possible to block thoughts once a person is forewarned.

“It should be obvious now that our gene mods have saved the rest of humanity from those self-bred killers. The delivery of that software virus couldn’t have been done as fast, as effectively, and as widespread by regular military forces. Certainly not before the Krall discovered what was wrong and had time to apply the obvious counter for the software attack. They could have their slave labor remove the quantum locks on all of their weapons. Like we have largely done on our captured ships. Finally, Telour had to pay for the billions of deaths he ordered in the PU. On more of a personal level for us, he needed to answer to the Kobani for the thousands that died on Koban, and while fighting the clans.”

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.”

“Uh, it’s a long story, and complicated. They did it via answering our advertising.”

“Try explaining that to me, my meeting is over. Now you’ve gone beyond getting a ship, its explaining why you need it to your father, and how they answered your ad. You may be a dad yourself, but it sounds like you could be getting into a situation with risks, and you have a wife and child to think about. Not to mention being careful to avoid pulling the Kobani or Federation into a political situation we might want to avoid.”

“OK. Can we go to the cafeteria for sandwiches and sit and talk?”

“Sure.”

Once seated, and speaking around a bite of a rhinolo steak sandwich, Ethan started the first part of the story. “Do you remember Ajay Patil? He was one of those that returned to Earth with his parents, on Pholowela.”

“Oh. I know of him. He was about fourteen, right? Family moved to Haven from Hub City, and they all went back to Earth when they could, even though his parents had clone mods. I guess they didn’t want him to get the Koban mods when he reached sixteen, with or without their permission. How does he figure into Chisholm? If they went to Earth or to Chisholm, he couldn’t easily keep in touch with you, not without a Comtap.”

“They moved to the Indian Commonwealth on Earth to live, but don't be too sure he couldn’t communicate with us from there or Chisholm, or anywhere in Human Space. He does that almost daily, with a lot of his friends he left behind on Haven, and a few kids on Koban.”

“He has a Comtap? I’d not heard of any human without the Kobani mods having one. It’s possible, of course, without the mental sharing aspect. It’s essentially what the Torki and Raspani have now, for long range communications through Tachyon Space.”

“Actually, he doesn’t have a Comtap, but he has a few of the new Prada hand held devices that do much the same thing. Have you heard mention of Instellarnet, similar to Internet?”

“No, but I know you younger generation types have jumped into social networking again, which us older farts sort of lost interest in, after we were stranded on Koban for so long without connectivity. Comtap has restored personal connections for us but I don’t crave browsing web sites, not like I did when I lived on Rhama. What’s Instellarnet?”

“Instantaneous interstellar internet. And it’s about to get much larger than it is now.”

“How? With a Tachyon Space connection? Wouldn’t that just be talking over the Prada handheld, like a phone call to the addressed party?”

“If Ajay were just some ordinary kid, then yes, that’s all in might become. But he’s a techno geek, like his mother, who ran an internet service on their Old Colony world of Hindi, before their vacation trip back to visit family on Earth was ruined, when the Krall captured their cruise ship twenty-two years ago.”

“And what did geek boy do with this handhelds?”

“His mother, to ease his leaving all of his friends behind, let him bring several of the Prada devices with him to stay in touch, so he wouldn’t grow too resentful. He asked the Torki how he could connect other devices to his handhelds, and they made them with interface ports that connected with the new internet network system his mother designed for Haven, and has now spread to Koban. Our networks here aren’t as modern as on a Hub planet, but visitors from Rim or New Colony planets have older generation devices they want to connect on Hub worlds when they visit them. Therefore, the Hub networks are backward compatible with protocols used by older systems. Ajay’s Prada devices can connect to the global Earth network.”

“Yea. So? How does that lead to Chisholm?”

“Dad, I said it was complicated. Let Ethan finish. He heard about what Ajay and his Haven friends were doing from his younger brother, Danner.”

“Go on Ethan.”

“Ajay told his friends back here that he could explore internet links on Earth with his Prada hand held when he linked it through a computer. His friends obtained some Prada handhelds and did the same, but went through his device on Earth when they linked. Even though they couldn’t see his computer screen, Ajay directed them to a site where they listened to some downloaded music, and later spoke to some Earth based AI servers that would accept verbal instructions. That was when the real breakthrough happened, when the kids on Haven connected their own home computers through their Prada handhelds to Ajay’s handheld. Our house computers, which Chief Haveram bought for us in Human Space, are compatible with the internet on Hub worlds. Using their computers on Haven, they could directly surf the Earth internet live, using the handhelds as the long-range instant links between computers, and the Torki interface matching the internet protocols at both ends.”

“I’m being patient,” Dillon reminded the two.

“OK. That was six months ago. Ajay connected both of his handheld devices to his mother’s new high-end computer, which allows multi users from other household terminals. Haven kids starting browsing the Earth network at will. When some kids on Koban learned of the capability, and obtained the same Prada devices, they linked from Koban to Haven’s network, and then to Earth via the same two devices. They started calling it Instellarnet, but it had limited capacity with only two connections on Earth.

“Since then, Kobani spec ops troops, being paid by Ajay and his mother, have used their PU military status and the secrecy of their units, to return to Human Space with improved Torki gadgets and have installed them on various planets that already have their own local global networks. There now are many more link possibilities in Human Space, simply by knowing the Prada device addresses on various planets. Ajay is going to become a very rich kid, providing interstellar web browsing, and the Torki will provide the technology under a very lucrative deal for them.”

“I take it one of these new Torki devices went to Chisholm?”

“Yep. Via a trooper going home on leave to visit, but was paid by Ajay to connect one there.”

“The trooper told you about this problem on Chisholm?”

“Nope, he only made the connection to a computer inside a government run recreation center for disabled soldiers. Out of curiosity, we browsed the small Chisholm network and stumbled across a jobs site, where people advertise services or products they provide, or list work they need done, with contact numbers or web addresses. We weren’t afraid to describe what services we can offer as Kobani, said some negative things about the PU government, and mentioned our rebel image.”

Carson picked up from there. “That ad drew some friendly cautionary warnings, and the attention of a reclusive Chisholm group. They claimed that someone in authority there has an AI monitoring everything that’s posted or said on their small network, so they use temporary, indirect, and anonymous terminals to speak their minds, and have requested police help from higher government agencies on Chisholm. They not only were ignored, but someone with guns tried to find them. They’re afraid for their lives if found. Ethan gave them our link device’s connection address on Chisholm. It seems to lead nowhere, and no monitor system can trace it through Tachyon Space.”

Ethan chimed in again. “That’s how we learned of their problems. We think we can go there, and use Mind Tap on unguarded minds to find out who the bribed officials are, identify the payers, and apprehend the thugs that have waged a reign of terror on small landowners. There have been some farmers, their whole families in fact, murdered in their homes by bands of men that are dressed like ordinary ranch hands, but the local law isn’t doing anything to push the investigations. Collectively, the Chisholm Farmer’s Cooperative offered to pay us if we help them save their farms and families, and find out who is behind the killings.”

“Farms? I thought Chisholm replaced Meadow as the beef production center for much of the Hub. What’s the root of the conflict with the ranchers?”

Thinking he was explaining unfamiliar history, Carson told him, “Dad, Meadow was just destroyed last year, but Chisholm has been the main Hub cattle producer for two hundred years. Cattle ranching didn’t just recently move there from Meadow. The farmers are trying to grow crops in the fertile valleys, and a group of powerful wealthy ranchers won’t allow fences that limit their cattle from foraging. The crops are trampled and eaten without fences. The farmers are new on Chisholm, not the cattle.”

“I know that son. I’m older than you are and I grew up in Human Space. Meadow decided to become less agricultural long before I was born, as they became a developed Hub world. Ranching moved outward to other colony worlds, like Chisholm.”

“Oh. We didn’t know that.” Carson admitted.

Ethan explained the origin of this new friction, “The President of Chisolm Colony promised the electorate to raise more local foods, to cut the high expense of off world imports for the average citizens. He offered land grants on public lands that the cattle owners have always used as if it was theirs. The ranchers are trying to drive the farmers off, and have killed some of them, and they tear down their fences, and dam up the streams to deny them water for irrigation. The local law and judges are in the pockets of the big ranch owners.”

“Well, you had better research the place before you go. I don't see why you can’t take the Wanderer if you get permission. But what makes those farmers think you two youngsters can help them?” He had his suspicion.

“Uh. Our advertising for our services, being placed on each world’s network says we’re native Kobani, have combat experience, all the full genetic capability of our people, and are willing to travel for a negotiable fee. We describe ourselves as troubleshooters, not guns for hire. Everyone on Chisholm saw the news Tri-Vids when they reached there, a few weeks after we visited Earth. They saw Uncle Tet in action. We display both sides of a business card that explains in simple terms what we can provide.”

“What is it?”

“A card with Prada device addresses listed on the back to contact us and on the front a silhouette of a ripper, and below that the phrase: Have Genes, Will Travel.”

Annoyed, Dillon asked, “Why just the ripper image? Why not a damn wolfbat and white raptor as well? You know we’re keeping the source of our most important genetics a secret. This is almost advertising that.”

The young men exchanged glances and raised their eyebrows. “Not a bad idea, Uncle Dillon,” Ethan said agreeably. “We really only used the ripper image because Kit insisted, and Kobalt agreed with her, naturally. Besides, a Kobani looks like anyone else, but a ripper with us will draw attention and respect.”

“The cats? You got them interested in off-world adventures?” He was incredulous.

“Dad, they’re full partners. After Kit was rejuvenated and had long-range communications, she and Kobalt both wanted some other exotic travel experiences. Neither of them feels as if they fit in with the basic circle of life on Koban now. They have a new lifespan that can be extended repeatedly, and as we know, the balance of predator and prey is almost a religious conviction for ripper society. They don’t have many ways of earning credits of their own. If this business pans out and makes a profit, they’ll have some cash. With the small Torki speech disks, their Comtaps give them a voice, and they can do their own banking with an AI system. Cat society is going to change I think, at least for those traveling off Koban.”

“What can they do for you on Chisholm? Scare the hell out of cows?”

“Picture one of us walking into a cattle town bar, filled with gun hands of the local cattle Baron. A tall stranger with his trusty kitty at his side, asks the bartender for a whisky and tall milk. Do you think any of those cowboys will wonder if the stranger is a Normal that just happens to have a ripper friend? The cats with us should keep miscalculations to a minimum.”

“A cattle Baron. Really? I think you spent too much time with Aunt Maggi when you were young, and she was in her Old West period of interest.”

“If the shoe fits…” Carson trailed off.

Ethan added, “I think Chisholm has many of the old west parallels that triggered the same inherent sources of human conflicts. The entrenched wealthy and powerful that have had it their way for ages, and the poor and weaker newcomers that have to force the wealthy to change their ways and play fair, and alter their huge profit margins to share land they wrongfully consider their own. There was a reason those films were made. They reflected the real conflicts of the old west, even if a bit over dramatized.”

“You boys better do what I said. Research Chisholm, and study the records of pre-space range wars in the American old west. Your Aunt Maggi regaled me with the stories. Those could be pretty bloody and violent times, and full of real drama. Watch your backs. A face-to-face standup gunfight isn’t always how it happens. You’ve heard how I killed the first gunman I ever met. I knew I couldn’t out draw him, so I gut-shot him under the table as he drew on me. It wasn’t noble, but I lived.”

Carson rolled his eyes at the old story, seldom repeated by his father but heard many times from his mother and aunt. “Nut-shot is how Aunt Maggi described it.” He grinned.

“Whatever works. Watch your backs and cover your nuts.” His dad grinned back.

****

“That’s just nuts!” Alyson declared.

She couldn’t believe the ruins below her. “The Torki used to build skyscrapers? They’re crabs that live in sea side caves for heaven’s sake.”

She was captain aboard her own ship, Mother’s Pride, and she was speaking to her first officer, Richard Yang. The Torki passengers were below in the acceleration compartments installed for them, in case they ran into stray Krall clanships this deep into former Krall controlled space. It had happened multiple times in the past six months, and any sudden maneuvers could harm the crabs while leaving the Kobani barely inconvenienced.

They were flying over the remains of a long abandoned Torki city on their original home world of Ocean. The translated name came from the clicks of Torki speech. Most of the larger cities were more than abandoned. They had been blasted and bombed into rubble by the Krall when they conquered the planet many thousands of years ago. The Torki had capitulated by abandoning their cities and fleeing to the cold seas, where the Krall didn’t want to pursue.

This city had been abandoned before being attacked, when the Torki finally recognized this enemy didn’t want territory, just combat opposition and technology. Despite numerous examples of Krall attempts to eat Torki prisoners or the dead, it was apparent that the Krall enjoyed the white firm flesh far less that did the Torki themselves.

Immature Torki, called Torkedia, ate their dead elders in order to receive the Olts they bore, passing them to the next generation. Adult Torki also fed new Olts to Torkedia in chunks of meat taken from dead elder Torki, in order to expand their population of enhanced adults.

Eating a naturally deceased elder was a practice acceptable to their species, but they were morally opposed to killing to eat any of their kind. A Torkada was an adult form that had matured from a Torkedia without receiving an Olt, or advancing to a highly intelligent mature adult Torki. It was too late to embed an Olt once their brains had reached a mature state on their first adult molt, so the fully enhanced Torki preferred to avoid the Torkada, and built barriers that kept them from entering their cities.

Torkada had a significant level of raw intelligence, but lacked a brain structure that provided adequate long-term memories, and thus the ability to foster high-level thinking and future planning. It was the potential for this ability, which the Olt’kitapi had recognized when they created the Olts. This furnished the Torkedia with the electronic mental enhancements to help them advance, to reach an adult stage where they called themselves a Torki.

The Krall, when they obtained Torki agreements to furnish them with their advanced quantum technology for use in war, they removed every adult Torki from Ocean, and the developing spawn drifting in the seas eventually became Torkedia, and without Olts, grew into adult Torkada.

It was mature Torkada seen scrambling through the ruins of the destroyed cities, and here they were found in the surviving upper levels of fifty and sixty story structures that, from the collapsed material around the bases, had once been taller. The external view was relayed to Coldar and his survey team down below. Alyson could see them on her own monitor, but other than fidgeting claws and overactive eyestalks, it was impossible to determine the emotional response they felt at seeing the wreckage of their former civilization.

According to the records stored in their Olts, they were possibly the first Torki to have visited here in the eleven thousand years since the Krall had defeated them. It was possible that the Krall had stayed here with Torki forced labor working for them for much longer, as had happened at the Toborkiti ship yards where Migration ships were built, but if so, none of those Torki managed to survive to synchronize Olts with Torki on other Krall worlds.

The cool, low gravity watery worlds the Torki preferred didn’t appeal to the Krall. Therefore, aside from neglect, that should be good news. That was because their planets probably had not been heavily exploited, or as ecologically damaged as were many Prada and Raspani worlds. So far, eight of their colony worlds, visited on the way to Ocean, had not suffered a feral Krall infestation and simply looked abandoned. The Kobani had long ago rescued the Torki on Toborkiti, and had killed the warriors found there. That clan had never found the Torki colony world suitable for a nesting ground, meaning that particular ninth colony was also ready to be reclaimed.

Although the Torki had settled and explored a region comparable in volume to Human Space, they had colonized only twenty-three planets. That was because of what they considered limited acceptable habitats on most worlds they had found with existing life.

Compared to humans, who settled over seven hundred usable worlds in a similar volume, the Torki could look forward to future stellar neighbors, most of whom would be humans living on higher gravity worlds, and the Prada and Raspani would find some drier low gravity worlds that suited their needs.

Alyson landed Mother’s Pride near the outskirts of the better preserved dead city, and watched with pleasure the excited reactions of Coldar and the other nineteen Torki, as they caught the first scent of the sea air, and felt the high humidity, low gravity and air pressure of a place they had never been, but which felt like home. They skittered around on multiple legs almost like the immature children, the Torkedia, that Alyson had seen return to Torki colonies after years of independent development in the seas of Haven.

Coldar was eager to move closer to the shore at the base of the buildings that rose from the water itself. Alyson had a question. “Coldar, have the seas risen? The water is up into the lower levels of all the structures. Waves may have eroded the bases, aren’t you worried they’ve been weakened? They might collapse if disturbed.”

“These buildings are a form of coral reef. The coral is still alive at the bases, and it has maintained its support. We can see this from the pinker color and thickness at the bases, that they have supported the pale, almost white dry structures above them. The tops may have weakened, but the basses are stronger than when they were abandoned.”

Alyson craned her neck to look up. “A Fifty story coral reef? Really? You didn’t just stack coral sections to build this?”

“Each building was grown in place, with fresh seawater pumped up with special nutrients added for a strong interlocking crystalline structure, and we kept the coral growing. When a level was complete, we raised the flow of water, and allowed the lower levels to die and harden into a strong base. For the tallest structures, there was a scaffolding-like metal structure to provide support. These building took hundreds of years to grow and as you see, could last thousands of years if maintained. The maximum safe height was around seventy levels, and those top levels did not bear great weight. They were often sleeping quarters with water sprays to make them comfortable.

He gestured in a spiral motion with his smaller left claw, an inclusive gesture that took in the entire cityscape. “This coral isn’t natural; it was selectively bred for this purpose over thousands of years of study. It doesn’t thrive on other planets, so we had to use other means to build structures on colonies, or used seaside caves and artificial tunnels, as we often did on Krall controlled worlds. With the Krall moving and controlling us, and our lack of control of our environment, we simply relocated our small colonies when too many Torkada returned to overuse our resources. In a city like this, we would have recovered most of our returning Torkedia to help them become adults, with Olts waiting for them. We had smooth sided seawalls with entry locks, to prevent the misplaced, overly mature Torkada from entering the city. Our oceans here have many more natural predators of our larvae than found on Haven, helping to regulate our population. There are too many water predators on some of our smaller colonies, where expansion proceeded slower.”

Alyson was watching what the other Torki were unloading. “Those carrying bags contain Olts. What will you do with them today? I assumed you would be looking over the structures to see if any are usable, or where to build new ones.”

Coldar made a carapace bob, which was their adapted gesture to mimic the human head nod. “We will do that, but some of that work will be done by the population already here.”

“I thought the Torkada were incapable of advanced learning and higher thought.”

“The Olts are for the few Torkedia we saw wandering along the water’s edge. If they haven’t started forming their first color molt, we can feed them an Olt. There will be many dead or dying Torkada to furnish the meat for this. They have a high mortality rate.

“After that, the young will have Olts with all the libraries our children always have to aid them in their learning. A few of us will remain to guide their thinking. One Torki can influence and guide a hundred new minds. There are thousands of Torkedia on Ocean now. If we can reach most of them before the next season of molt, in two of your months, our ability to populate this world again will go swiftly.

“This world is our species birthplace, and we know its seasons. We chose to come here now, to recover the peak number of this cycle’s returning young. Perhaps six thousand to seven thousand Torkedia. Next orbit, that number will repeat, and join the thousands that wish to immigrate here. Those of us here on this trip will spawn eggs and sperm at shores of cities where we want Torkedia to return in future years, and more of us will visit here in weeks ahead to do the same.

“In five years, we should have more people and cities being built here than you will have on Koban. Initially we will populate our world faster than Kobani or other humans can reproduce, but that will taper greatly when our reproduction rate slows. That’s because the population of small native predators that evolved along with us will increase, to eat more of our larvae. Our home has a natural population growth limiter, which prior to our evolving sentience, prevented us from consuming more food that was available to sustain our population. We will then establish managed sea chandle and trinda farms for feeding our growing population. I long to taste trinda growing on a long strand of fresh wild chandle weed before the day is done.” His trembling palps around his mouth caused his translated words in Standard to slur, as he thought of the experience.

“Coldar, how long has it been since you ate this dish? You were born on Haven, and I haven’t heard any mention of that seaweed, and whatever a trinda is.”

“None of us on Haven have experienced the dish, although it was grown on our colony worlds in farms long ago. Our Olts retain memory of the flavor. Samples will return with us to Haven, but it will not be released into the environment there. The Prada and Raspani will help us build pens well inland, far from the seas, to grow them in limited quantity as a specialty food treat. A trinda is a small crustacean that attaches to chandle floating in seawater, and they form a symbiotic relationship. Neither tastes as well alone, but their combined flavor is modified when living together, as the plant absorbs the wastes from the trinda, which eats contaminates and parasites from the weed to keep the plant healthy. You should try this marvelous flavor.”

“Uh. Thank you, perhaps I may.” Alyson was not about to commit herself, to eat these small crustaceans attached to seaweed, and their absorbed waste byproducts contained within that floating seaweed. She changed subjects from crab food delicacies.

“I understand your ten females are going to expel eggs at the shore, and you males will release clouds of sperm, and let them both mingle and drift out on the receding tide to open waters. Then leave here knowing the vast majority of fertilized eggs will be eaten? After a few years many of the Torkedia return to the wrong place or arrive too late to receive an Olt, and must become Torkada.”

“Of course. We feel no loss at the deaths of millions of our offspring that we never knew, and we will never know if a survivor is ours. A DNA test is possible, but the concept of knowing who the parents are is abhorrent to us. Someday a great, great, grandchild may eat us, and they should feel no guilt later if they learn who provided them the meat with their Olt. In that respect, we are uncomfortably like the Krall, who do not care for their young in early years. With us, this system evolved naturally and anonymously, in step with this planet’s ecology. With the Krall, it was a callous and deliberate decision to only pick the meanest most vicious and deadly cubs for survival, encouraging the stronger cubs to kill and eat their siblings or other nest mates.”

Alyson suppressed a shiver, concerned that the Torki might detect her feelings and be offended. Eating your grandparents, or leaving your children to be eaten in a vast hostile ocean, didn’t seem a reasonable reproductive option for a nurturing intelligent species. Human reproduction and how it was achieved; with endless practice she thought wryly, were a source of humor for all of their alien allies, and not a well-hidden subject for their jokes.

She felt the human advantage was the long term nurturing of their offspring, which in modern society approached a one hundred percent survival rate, and their long lives, good health, and extended fertility permitted more offspring.

Later that day, as the Torki roamed the old city for dying or recently dead Torkada, as suitable flesh sources for the frequent encounters with Torkedia, she overheard some Olt conversations that also went to the Kobani Comtaps, which appeared to reflect some great sorrow and an unexpected personal loss.

“Richard, let’s go see what it is they found that seems to have them so distressed. Standing watch here is boring. We’re safe here, since there’s no sign of a Krall presence in this system since it was abandoned.” Torki sometimes displayed jubilation and excitement, but very rarely acted depressed or sad. Stoic was as close to unhappy as she had noticed from any of them.

She and Richard left Kid, the AI recently installed on Mother’s Pride, in charge of monitoring the space around Ocean, with several Kobani crew within closer hailing distance if a human hand were suddenly needed. They made their way to where their mental aerial map of the city indicated was an open space, like a plaza around a hill within the city, behind some old buildings along the shore.

They passed a number of Torkada, which skittered away from them in apparent fear of the unknown animals. Up close, they were paler and slightly smaller versions of the Torki they knew. Coldar said this form rarely lived as long as a Torki with an Olt, because they didn’t have the knowledge needed for healing from injury or illness, of preserving food for times of scarcity, and the inability to make tools, shelter, food traps, or to farm, which could make their life easier and safer. They had partly forgotten the lessons of past years, and didn’t live to molt as many times as a Torki, to gain their larger size and deeper shell color.

They saw one Torkedia eating scraps from the nearly empty husk of a dead Torkada. It showed less fear of them, but demonstrated no signs of any greater intelligence. The translucent young carapace and bright sunlight revealed the small dark blotch of an Olt within its stomach, which would gradually migrate to the youngster’s brain over the following few weeks. After the Olt was in place, the pair’s familiarity with seeing the same process advance on Haven told them they would note gradual self-awareness and curiosity appearing in the young crab, as it became a Torki. Until then, it would mostly avoid adult Torki, and other large “animals” such as humans, Raspani, and Prada. Although smaller than an adult, they possessed fearsome claws, which would only come into play if attacked, or approached too close when they had no avenue of escape.

As they neared the area where the Torki were gathering, they had to deviate a few times around streets full of old debris, or perhaps better described as passageways than streets. Earlier, near the tallest structures, the avenues had been broad and wide, where the city appeared to have been more technologically advanced. Here the impression, aside from decay, was of a region of far older and more rudimentary construction. As if a primitive village had been surrounded by a growing metropolis, back when Ocean was a thriving vibrant Torki home.

Humans would normally have torn down and renovated a rundown old section of a city, rather than keep it intact at the center of new development. The old buildings were lower in height, but more closely spaced, so it was a surprise when they turned a corner of a meandering old street to find a wide-open vista of undeveloped ground. There was a ridge of high ground, which ran parallel to the sea, which they knew was nearby from the surf sounds. They heard Torki clicking and shell scrapes from the seaward side of the worn looking cliffs, and they circled around the down slope of the nearest side.

As the steep front of the cliff became visible, they saw it was riddled with cave or tunnel openings, and eroded terraces ran at different levels in front of the mouths of the openings. It was a more primitive looking site than Torki colonies they had seen on Krall worlds, where the Torki forced labor helped build the technological marvels for the Krall war effort.

At the base of the half-mile long cliff, within a crumbled semi-circular wall that appeared to have been of considerably newer construction, they could hear the echoes of reflected Torki native speech, and saw their movements through crumbled gaps in the curved wall.

“Richard doesn’t this wall look different from the age and weather related decay of the other newer coral construction to you? This is the only sample of newer building material in this entire plot of what looks like an old Torki village. As if a more modern city grew up around this area, but they didn’t touch the old section. The new wall looks as if parts of it were blown outward. I can see what looks like an ornate opening, located at the center of the arc that runs around the cliff base.”

Richard saw it in slightly different, less flattering terms. “This is an old piss hole in the middle of an eleven thousand year old dump.”

Exasperated with his lack of perception, she said, “This is a preserved historic section, obviously of importance to the Torki, a species that I haven’t noted as previously displaying a great deal of nostalgia. That cliff face had a protective wall that has been destroyed, and our friends are inside and behaving as if distressed. Please don’t reveal your real feelings around them, and drop the “piss-hole in a dump” remarks.”

“Sure. Who in hell do you think I am? Some insensitive prick that will hurt the feelings of our crab allies? Who inexplicably revere an ancient treasure they’ve preserved throughout their history, for longer than we humans have even been out of our caves? This old piss hole is precious to them.”

“Good. So happy your sensitive side has been activated.”

“How could it not? I came here on the frigging Mother’s Pride.” He quipped.

“Named after the birth of my son occurred, and who isn’t here to see his mommy act out of character by leaving her thickheaded jerk of a first officer behind, to see if he can discover how to Comtap his sorry ass home through thousands of light years of vacuum.”

“A lovely tender name for a warship it is.” He wore a lopsided grin.

“It was a hollow threat anyway.” She admitted. “You owe me nine credits from our last poker game.”

“Take it out of my salary.”

“Hmm. We didn’t set one before we left, did we? This new Federation credit situation needs to be worked out. All I know to do with the credits in my new account is to bet with them, and I don't think I should have to pay you on this official trip, since nobody is paying me. I don’t think.”

They had been walking while they exchanged their banter, and reached an opening in the damaged wall. The Torki were all gathered within, forming a small arc, like the one the shattered outer wall had once formed. They were each bent down with their front carapace touching the ground. A shattered cave or tunnel opening was in the base of the cliff, at the middle point of their arc. It appeared to have been the epicenter of a powerful explosion from just inside the cave mouth.

Alyson looked behind the crab arc at the wall, and saw an elaborately carved hard stone entryway with the ubiquitous artificial coral wall joining it at the sides. There was no sign of an old gate, and it appeared the courtyard thus formed had been open to visitors. That implied trust and reverence for whatever was being preserved here, and that it had not required protection, merely some level of privacy.

That promptly sparked a thought. Perhaps she and Richard were intruding. The Torki, like the other aliens they had met, had long ago given up any belief in a supreme being in their long and slow expansion, but this historical site may have predated that social change. They certainly appeared to be positioned in a reverent pose.

She spoke softly, “Ah…, Richard, let’s step outside and wait for them to finish.”

Before they could turn away, one form lifted and Coldar’s speech pattern issued from his synthesizer. “Captain, I have expressed as much grief and loss as I need for now. I will join you. I wish to explain what we have discovered, and have lost.”

Passing through the main entry, which up close appeared to be sculpted from weathered pink and gray granite, Coldar stopped outside.

“It appears that the Krall, before they left our world, chose to destroy our most prized and oldest example of our past and origins. What we called in our language Olt 1, which was the last surviving original Olt. One of the original ones directly given to us by the Olt’kitapi.”

“You mean from your prehistory? Before your species was fully sentient? How tragic for your history.” Alyson placed a hand on one of his sensitive manipulator palps, to convey the sincerity of her mental sympathy via Mind Tap.

Richard asked a skeptical question, suggesting he still wasn’t fully in touch with his sensitive side. “This old cliff village doesn’t look all that primitive, and it isn’t even located by the sea. How could you be sure it was that old?”

Coldar, far from taking offense, seemed to appreciate the opportunity to explain how they knew. “The land here has uplifted, and the sea levels have slightly receded in those millennia, but once long ago the tides entered the lowest of the natural caves of this level. These caves did not form our first village, and they are not the reason we preserved this patch of land. Those early villages were distributed over the entire planet, and they have all been lost to the tides of history. The Olt’kitapi clearly did not distribute all their Olts in a single region, to preclude their loss in a mass die-off from disease, or a natural catastrophe that might ruin their social engineering.”

“So…,” Richard was cut off by a claw wave. Coldar hadn’t finished.

“This place wasn’t representative of where or how we lived in our beginnings. You of course know we recycle Olts when one of us dies. Obviously, an Olt isn’t indestructible, and it can be lost along with the body. They were made very durable, because they needed to last until we developed the technology to reproduce them.

“We must have begun with millions of them, but after a few thousand years, the population of sentient Torki was perhaps a quarter of the original numbers before we were able to replace the lost Olts with new ones. In subsequent centuries, our sentient Torki population grew greatly, and new Olt libraries opened to us to help us cope with what we needed to learn of forming a stable large society. Gradually, the original surviving Olts became a small fraction of those in existence, and eventually the last ones known were finally lost to accidents.”

Alyson knew where he was leading. “One of the original Olts was kept here.”

“Not kept. Found. In an old collapsed cave over there, within the carapace of the dead owner who died, trapped inside there. The Olt not only had very few of the internal libraries open when discovered, proving it had been there a long time; it bore the unmistakable manufacturing imprints of the Olt’kitapi. We had descriptions and images of the original Olts, but until they were all gone, we didn’t appreciate the value they would have for our future generations. This city was established and built around the cave where the Olt was found. We resealed the cave and returned the Olt to the crushed carapace.”

Richard had another question. “Your people came here to worship that Olt?”

Coldar made the first combination of gestures that indicated he was divided between confusion and irritation. His carapace lifted, and then he made a grating scratching sound that was uncomfortably close to the unpleasant sound of fingernails scratching on a surface. His eyestalks both lowered to study Richard with intense scrutiny.

“Why would we worship an inert machine as if it were a deity? We abandoned the concept of an invisible master deity that watched over us always, long before we discovered this rare artifact. What would drive us to step back from the level of reason we had achieved by then?”

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” He offered that as his excuse.

He was granted an uncomfortably swift reply. “True.” Then Coldar described their actual attitude over the loss.

“We view this as equivalent to the loss of a cared for and respected elder, whom we admired greatly. It was probably an irreplaceable example of the first generation Olt from our benefactors. Those original Olts were the last direct link we had to the Olt’kitapi, who actually touched them when they were made. Our civilization became possible only because of them. We wonder if we have evolved to be what they hoped we could become.”

Allison had a more pertinent question. “What do you think happened here so long ago?”

Coldar didn’t need to speculate. “We found the corroded metal missile fragments. The Krall destroyed this site, even though we had fled to the sea and surrendered before this city was reduced to rubble in the fighting, as others were destroyed. It must have been done after our surviving population was relocated on our own migration ships, or else we would have some Olt memory of this pointless desecration of our history.”

He pondered a moment. “I wonder if this revelation would have altered our group decision to permit some Krall to survive the war, living imprisoned on a planet within the boundary of our Federation. They had beaten us in war when this happened, and won our agreement to provide them with technological assistance in exchange for our survival, and agreed to cease the destruction of our people and planet. Our help was a trade we knowingly made with them. This particular act represents a deep violation of that agreement that will affect the group mind of all Torki. Now that it is known to me, I personally would have supported the desires of the Krall’tapi, to spare none of the evil deviant Krall. They cannot be trusted, or forgiven. This Olt is irreplaceable, and offered them no threat.”

“I think I understand,” Alyson offered. “However, you know that Captain Mirikami is promoting the use of T-cubed ships to examine stars beyond the borders of the space the navigation systems indicate are the limits of the volume of Krall controlled territory. It’s possible that some of the defeated races fled this region and still survive somewhere. The Olt’kitapi could be one of those species. Would meeting an Olt’kitapi be better than finding another original Olt?”

“Possibly. We would have to reserve judgement until after we met them. The Olts were a marvelous gift, but we do not automatically equate the gift with the givers. They inadvertently released the Krall scourge on the peoples around them. They were not infallible, and they may have made other mistakes.”

Alyson agreed. “We all make mistakes, and they paid for theirs first and hardest. They were a well-meaning people. Perhaps we’ll know if any of them survived someday.”

****

Nawella was willing to defer to Rithal as the eldest. She was a Prada claiming to be older than Nawella by ten to a hundred orbits, as measured by the three star systems where Rithal had lived, when she ran underground factories for a Krall clan. Conversion to a single fixed length of time was no longer possible for the Prada, due to the differing star systems the elders often occupied throughout long lives, and moves which had been dictated by the Krall’s needs.

Although, humans had found that the habitability zones of many suitable stars provided a crude time measure by the orbits of living planets. The length of an orbit of most habitable planets ranged from under two years at hotter starts with a zone farther out, down to barely six months at cool red dwarfs with close-in living planets. A larger count of orbits offered a rough measure of greater Prada age.

Nawella wanted to hear the opinion of Rithal, so she posed her comment and question. “The star is red enough and this world has huge tall trees. Could they be the Temple trees of our legends?”

Rithal moved her head from side to side in indecision. “The majority of stars are redder than at Haven, which is too hot and white for proper living. These trees are also taller than the trees your villages call Temple trees on Haven. That extra height could be due to the lighter gravity here. They do match our oldest stories, but many low gravity worlds have tall trees. We need more evidence this was our home world than the trees and star color. All of our former colony worlds were in the Krall navigation systems, and were mixed with other low gravity worlds of every species the Krall met. Many of our own colonies had tall trees because we liked them, and they lived a long time.

Rithal came as close to criticism of the Krall that Nawella had heard from her. “The Krall had the technical ability, provided by the Olt’kitapi, to make notes about planets, but they never differentiated in their navigation systems which worlds belonged to which animal species of their enemies. Although, using their mental battlefield maps, they always knew which planets had a current enemy living on them. After a conquest, all they cared to retain was which clans kept some worlds for nesting, or for weapons manufacture. This world was not retained for such use.”

Nawella darted her head forward. “The human, named Mirikami, whom you met when you arrived on Haven, thinks the Krall normally killed all inhabitants of a species home world, or removed them if they were allowed to live. From Mind Taps of Krall leaders, he says they did that for all three races they kept alive, to leave them feeling isolated and helpless. The first orbital survey here shows that this world, which is near the center point of the worlds we think were our colonies, had no clan domes ever built here, but our colonies did have them. That leads Mirikami to suggest this world may have been our home.”

“He thinks the absence of evidence is evidence?” Rithal sounded skeptical.

“My brother Wister, and I, have come to trust his thinking. If before he speaks, you observe him pull at his flat and hairless bottom lip, it is a sign that he has applied much thought to what he is about to say. He is usually correct in those cases.”

In an amused vertical head bob on her slender long neck, Rithal confessed a bias. “I fear that if I looked at a human engaged in such thought, and they touched their wide flat mouth, all I would see above their fat hairless hands would be the ridiculous plump and pink nose, which is placed too close to their wrong colored eyes, and has almost no detectable or emotive movement. To me, that nose conveys the absence of thoughts in their overly wide heads, because the nose is so still.” Her head bobbed faster, in a quiet Prada chuckle.

“I have been around humans longer than you have, Rithal, and I urge you not to apply Prada facial or body language cues to them when in a discussion. Our species are both bipedal, but so were the Krall, and remember how little we understood them. Besides, what can you deduce from a bipedal creature without a moving tail when it speaks? We will misunderstand humans more than we do Torki and Raspani, because we do not attempt to interpret body cues from shapes so different from ours. Listen to the words of humans, and do not watch their movements and gestures so much, until you learn the important ones. What is worse for us is that many physical gestures differ between different humans.”

“How did you learn to trust them at all? They are such an immature species.”

“Because their acts and words actually agree with how they treat us. The Mind Tap, if you would permit its use, would explain them more quickly.”

“I do not want my mind opened to any of them. Too much can be revealed.”

“I can teach you how to shield any thoughts you do not wish to share. It is as easy as you refusing to say you wish to mate with my brother.”

“How do you know that? The humans told you with a secret Mind Tap of my thoughts.” She accused.

“No. I am a Prada elder, and I can and I do understand our head, tail, and nose movements from long practice. When Wister is not looking at you, I can see what you stop hiding. You have just revealed the truth of my observations, yet you never spoke them. The same way you do not speak what you want kept private, your thoughts are not revealed to a Mind Tap. The key is in knowing your open unguarded thoughts can be sensed, and you do not make physical contact with a Kobani without that awareness. It is easy. Wister was the first of us to learn to do this, with Maggi Fisher, Mirikami’s mate. She taught him how.”

Thought blocking a Kobani wasn’t at the top of Rithal’s current concern. “Does Wister know how I feel? Did you tell him?” She was moving her tail in a nervous manner.

“Wister isn’t quite as old as we are, but he is an elder and even more observant than I am. What do you think?”

“Oh my. Oh my. I’m not going to be able to meet his gaze again. I’m too old to feel this way. I must be feeling the influence of excessive human reproductive urges.”

Nawella concealed the laughing twitch of her tail tip behind her back, “It is not an infection one can catch, and you only met the first human a short time ago. I doubt you have seen any of them try to reproduce where you could watch. I have never seen them do that, although they do what they call flirting in public, to indicate an interest in a member of the other gender.”

“That sounds scandalous. We would never do that.”

“Rithal, what I saw you do that hinted at your feelings for my brother is flirting, in principle. And I think he knows.”

“Oh my. Oh my.” Her agitated tail twitches grew in strength. Until she managed to force her mind to return to their original, much safer subject.

“This ship is using deep radar scans, so our lost cities will appear beneath the forests, assuming this was our home planet. If the experience of the other species is an accurate guide, the smells and feel of our native gravity will seem more natural to us than on other worlds, the sky a natural color, and the bark grubs should be sweeter.”

Happy with the change in subject, Rithal studied the monitor, which was showing the planet passing below them in their extremely low orbit. The chime on Rithal’s handheld device chirped at her waist. Looking at the source of the call, she said, “It’s Captain Sven. What do I do?”

With an annoyed nose twitch, Nawella said, “You press the button to answer. I thought they explained this simple device to you.”

“Not that. I’m not prepared to block my thoughts. She’s calling with her Comtap. I’m told they exchange thoughts with those.”

“Only with other Kobani, and it is not possible with that device. Answer, or pass it to me.”

“Here.” She handed over the long-range communications device, which was being called from a person located the vast distance of two decks above them.

“Nawella speaking, Captain Sven.” She set it for speaker mode.

“Oh. Sorry. I thought I’d selected the ID code of elder Rithal. Should I call her as eldest, or is it acceptable to first speak to you?”

“Ella, you selected the proper device, it was…, out of her reach. Therefore, I answered for her. She can hear us.” She had used the captain’s first name, to indicate Rithal’s more formal mode of address with humans could be relaxed. She asked the question they needed answered.

“Do you have any results from your deep radar search?”

“Yes I do Nawella. This is the Prada home world, for a certainty. The locations of the outlines of twenty of your larger cities match closely with the charts your people hand drew from stories. Even the single planet-girdling continent with two seas almost matches. There are no ice caps now, so sea levels have risen since your people were removed by the Krall, and water has covered one low narrow section of the single continent. That’s why the shorelines were so different as well. The AI says this is One Land.”

Both Sven and the Prada were speaking low Krall, of course. A hope for the Prada was to reconstruct their original lost language, by studying the written version if found in ruins here. It would be harder to reconstruct the pronunciation, but certain sounds were formed more easily with the small pointed Prada mouth and slender tongue, so that would be a guide when the sounds for individual letters were deduced. The Krall had stolen much of Prada culture and heritage from them when they forbid them to retain their old language or records. Obedient to the supposed elder species, they did not defiantly try to keep their old language and history alive, as had the Torki. Now they wanted that lost language recovered and to relearn their history.

Nawella and Rithal darted their heads forward for that announcement, even though the gesture wasn’t visible to the captain. There was a small screen on the handheld device and a camera eye, but that wasn’t compatible with a Comtap. They were acknowledging this reasonable explanation for each other, of the observed changes from old oral descriptions of what to expect if they found One Land.

Even with the division of land caused by the encroaching ocean, this was still the single continent that the original, but now forgotten Prada language had said was One Land. This description was being phrased in low Krall, the language the respectful Prada had adopted, when ordered to do so by their former Rulers. Certain descriptions had remained, even when spoken in low Krall, as clues to their original home.

Sven had more news. “The largest ruins were in a long wide valley between two low mountain ranges, in the widest part of the single continent. They line up reasonably close with what your hand chart says was your largest city.”

Rithal spoke the name reverently. “Valley Center.” It was obviously a low Krall description of where the Prada capitol had been located, and not the original Prada name, but it was all they had for now.

Sven described that area, even as she routed the recorded image to their monitor screen. “There are many tall trees growing over the ruins now, but there are numerous areas clear enough to land and explore. If that’s where you wish your party to start work.”

Rithal, feeling jubilant, took the communicator from Nawella. “Our cities always had tall trees integrated into them. Landing near the center of the foundations would be very much appreciated.”

“If you two elders wish to come up to the bridge, you can see the sensor scans of the buildings covered by plant growth. That might guide your decision for landing. I think a warming climate melted the ice caps and promoted a more topical growth here than your descriptions mentioned.”

Rithal, who had asked Nawella to stay with her on this lower deck, darted her head forward once. “We will come up soon. You may now show the recording of Valley Center to our people on the lower decks. They should see the sights of our home world now, and observe where we will make first landfall, after Nawella and I have made that decision.”

It had been Rithal’s discomfort when around the Kobani, which had caused her to avoid them on this journey of discovery. She had been on Haven for only a month, after being rescued from a former Krall production world. She had followed the Prada practice of the elders by conferring in private, before any discussions that might suggest disagreements could reach the younger citizenry. That had put the two elders alone on the third deck down, and farther below them, the other forty or so decks were filled with thousands of the small-bodied Prada, with supplies and equipment stacked around them. A single day’s trip had been of little discomfort.

Ella Sven grimaced at her much younger first officer, Madelyn Darlington. “Damn Madie, I’ve been feeding the images to the lower decks all along. I’d have done so for any human passengers. I suppose the Prada have had too many generations of Krall orders dictated to them, following the old mushroom principle.”

“Following what?”

“Oh. They were kept in the dark and fed bullshit. Sometimes called the mushroom principle.”

“Wow. Thanks for that image! I used to love mushrooms.”

“Don’t be so literal. I don’t really know what that revolting fungi grows on. I can’t believe you eat them.”

“You let me cook last night, after we left Haven. Hope you enjoyed that pizza. You ate mushrooms too, those little cubed gray bits with the antelope meat and cheese on top. You said it was good, that you’d never had pizza before.”

“I hadn’t. It isn’t exactly the national dish of Fiord, where I was raised. Just for that little revelation, tonight you get to try whole anchovy on crackers with a tomato based sauce, or perhaps anchovy risotto. Your choice. In the risotto, you can’t see the anchovies either.”

The Koban born young woman prevaricated, avoiding a direct answer. “I’ll let you know, once you tell me what the hell an anchovy is. They damn well don’t come from Koban or Haven.”

“It’s a small fish. The canned variety I brought with me was imported from Fiord, thanks to Chief Haveram. Thought I’d never live to taste them again.”

Noting the two Prada nearing the stair top, Madie said softly, with a wink. “Here come the raw grub eaters, let’s not upset their fragile digestion discussing cooked food.”

Sven countered. “A pickled anchovy might not be considered cooked.”

Madie grimaced, “And now I might consider not eating tonight.”

They subsequently completed their orbit, and then hovered briefly over Valley Center, allowing the two Prada to make a decision. Rithal’s decision was followed of course, as coming from the eldest.

“It is reasonable,” Rithal insisted. Nawella had favored an area where there was evidence of more technological development. “In a new small village today, the construction progresses all around the first house built for the elder in charge. That is where the people gather for the stories and wisdom from the words of the elder as the village is built. That is an ancient tradition of our people, and it seems reasonable that this city grew around a source of accumulated wisdom. There may be a library structure or a cultural center in that large cluster of squares that fill the geometrical center of the city. It is a good place to seek written examples of our former language.”

As Nawella predicted, their first steps on One Land was a heady experience. They felt lighter on their feet, the dimmer red sunlight yielded perfectly shaded colors, where the Kobani needed their ripper vision to brighten the scene, and the air smelled wild and invigorating. The latter invigoration was probably due to the air being a bit higher in oxygen than before, due to the long absence of an industrial society, and increased plant growth.

Nearly every one of the giant trees had bark infested every few feet it seemed, with a plump grub of a large symbiotic beetle that protected the trees from some sort of nuisance pests. The Prada longer middle finger, with its hooked claw, was ideally suited to extract the grubs. Even though they proved not to be “sweet” as predicted by Nawella, they were indeed savory, with the flavor of the tree bark infused in their juices. The Kobani crew effectively vanished while the Prada acted more like furry gluttons for the first hour.

Captain Sven said they were seeking possible threats from wild animal life that would live in this forest. They did in fact encounter a group of fifteen to twenty pack animals, which could pass for hopping wolves here, and chased them away. Their real motive was not to have to see another wriggling, three-inch yellow grub bitten into, with thick clear juices squirting to the sides of furry little jaws. Then the lips and fingers fastidiously licked clean, and that to be repeated, and repeated, and repeated, until fuzzy gray, brown, beige, and black tummies were bulging with satisfaction. Not even the captain was interested in pickled anchovies that night.

In that days that followed, the industrious swarm of Prada cleared jungle residue, covering collapsed structures. These buildings, like those seen elsewhere on the continent, had never been bombed, and it was theorized that when the Krall first attacked the outer colonial outposts of the Prada, that the surviving populations learned of the Krall background, and of the age of their species. The Prada had previously said they slightly knew of the Olt’kitapi, but they were too remote for trading. They had been warned away from Olt’kitapi space when the revolt started, but didn’t directly know about the Krall.

After a long period of no contact from the Olt’kitapi, they suspected the elder race was gone. When the Krall arrived and bragged it was so, as they raided Prada worlds, they had quickly accepted that their new enemy was the elder species, and refused to fight them, offering instead a willingness to follow their bidding and to work for them in the empire they were building. They had then followed their elders into slavery, frequent relocation, hardworking survival, and a severe population reduction.

The small six-person Kobani crew watched them work, but unless individual strength was required for the minor task of moving a piece of debris too heavy for several Prada, and machinery wasn’t quickly available, they remained observers and protectors. Except for one attempted rescue that failed, and a retribution that was thwarted when the futility was recognized.

A young male Prada had been hanging by one foot and his prehensile tail, as he used a hand laser to cut away thick ropy vines hanging from thirty to forty story high tree limbs. He swung over on smaller vines towards a massive tree trunk to clamber down to aid in removal of the pile of vegetation he’d helped create. He reached for a protruding thick green end of a large vine, about the thickness of his body, which wrapped around the slender trunk this far up, to use it to slide closer to the forest floor.

The “vine” opened a large mouth, not even needing to unhinge its jaw, extending its body in a rapid strike from the support of the tree, and closed its toothed jaws over the surprised and screeching victim, who dropped his burner in a futile effort to hold open the irresistible jaws of the massive snake.

In response to the other cries of Prada distress, Madie arrived on scene with Nawella, close to the base of the tree as the snake analogue spiraled around the tree to the more open sheltered ground under the shade of the vast tree canopy above. There was a noticeable bulge, located ten feet back from the head, followed by another fifty feet of body that quickly reached the ground.

Madie reached for her plasma rifle, but she was stopped by Nawella.

“Let it go. Our brother is already dead, and from the size, this is an old one of its kind. This has been its territory for many years. Its type will be pushed far from here as we reclaim our cities. We will be more alert now, as we are for the ground predators you frightened away the first day. This was once our world, but we had been so safe from such threats for so long that we don’t even have stories of these animals. We are strangers in our own land, where we first evolved. We will master our world again, but I hope we have learned to share and conserve better, after seeing how the Krall treated every living species they met, and every world they ruined if they stayed there long enough.”

The clearing effort continued but with Prada eyes more alert, in the trees now as well as on the ground. There were another few deaths, two from poisonous animals and one a poisonous insect, but nothing ate another Prada.

Rithal was proven correct in her assessment that there would be a repository of written material in the center of the old city. There were even printed versions of old preserved documents in heavy clear cases that had survived the collapse of buildings. Many of their more modern records had become digital representations, and even if the media on which they were recorded was recovered, the means to read and interpret the data was assumed lost to time.

That was when Nawella’s small expedition to a scientific research area proved to be the solution. In underground tomb-like vaults, used for unknown purposes thus far, were ancient experiments sealed from moisture and extreme temperature changes. In the vaults, they found relatively well-preserved electronic instruments, and the mediums on which technical data had been preserved. It wasn’t literature, history, or even daily stories of life, but Nawella was convinced that some of it would be the recorded language of the Prada who had performed the research. Even if unintelligible technical data were present, there would be verbal notes added to discuss what had been learned. Using Krall equipment, the Prada had done the same sort of thing in organizing their war production systems for them.

Nawella consulted with the technical specialists she had brought, who told her the inoperable instruments could be replicated, and the old recording media could then be read, or copied carefully, and heard for the first time in perhaps eighteen thousand orbits.

They also rejoiced that they again had a standard orbit on which they could base a reconstructed year for Prada ages. This was something else lost to them, as the Krall moved them around, often without allowing them to collect any personal possessions, such as time keeping devices. When they converted the orbital periods of all the worlds where Prada had been taken by the Krall, they could eventually calculate, with reasonable accuracy, which of them was the truly the eldest in years, as measured by One Land’s orbital period.

This had a high priority for them, further proof that the Prada could not abandon their deeply ingrained cultural, and possibly instinctive acceptance of following the guidance of their elders. At least now, thanks to advice from an elder species, the Raspani, they would only follow the lead of the elders within their own species.

****

Blue Flower Eater made an elbow squeeze, the Raspani gesture of negation, and said, “We are not seeking our home world. We knew where Great Plains was located from the day our massed personalities were reawakened in the chip within this skull,” he tapped the side of his head with a slender dexterous finger that seemed at odds with his pudgy looking arms.

Maggi was puzzled. “You don’t want to resettle Great Plains, to repair any damage the Krall may have caused?”

“I certainly don’t, personally. Besides, I was born and raised on the colony world where this mind enhancer chip was found, in that relic skull saved by the Torki. The world you called CS2, where clanships were built by the Mordo clan. That world, we called it Red Grain after the delicious forage on its plains, was ruined by the rape of its resources for the shipyards, and its air is poisoned. The grain we loved has all withered and died. I don’t want to return there, since we were forced to become a food herd there, and our processed dead were shipped to other worlds by the Krall as rations. Those minds still inside my chip were from there, and they too have only bad memories.”

“OK. I see why you don’t want to restore Red Grain for habitation. Why not your home world, of Great Plains?”

“It is less of a personal reason for myself, and for the nearly quarter million minds I still carry, but most Raspani feel the same, that Great Plains too was ruined, but not only by the Krall. Graka clan moved their nesting grounds from the planet you called CS1, because they had ruined that world. Just as CS2 was ruined by Mordo clan by clanship production, strip mining, foundries, and smelters. Graka moved their clan nesting grounds six thousand or more years ago from CS1. Would you care to guess where they went?”

“I presume it must have been to Great Plains. Did they rape its resources too?”

“Not to the extent they did on their clanship production world, but that was because there were fewer resources left to plunder. Fewer, because we Raspani had done our share of plundering the environment for a longer period. We are a much slower developing people than humans are, even after the Olt’kitapi gave us our mind enhancers, leaving us thousands of years to extract what we wanted from our home world.

“Then the Graka clan dismantled our cities, homes, and factories, for metals to make their domes, and to send the metals in trade for status points from Mordo to build clanships, or to other clan production worlds to make other weapons in exchange for their status points to become a Great Clan. It’s far easier to steal metal already processed, than to dig the ores, transport it, process it, and then build something. We can’t easily rebuild what we had on Great Plains because most of the materials would have to be imported, and we Raspani have less emotional attachments to places than do the Prada and even the Torki, who are not noted for sentimentality.”

He pondered a moment. “Less attachment to flat plains covered in grasses, perhaps because such grassy plains are common and similar on any world we selected for colonization. They all soon feel like home. We do however have long lasting emotional reactions to events that happen on a world.

“I explained about Red Grain, and on Great Plains we learned that the Graka clan allowed their newly hatched cubs, and pre-novices to hunt down nearly the entire population for sport and training, and to eat some of them, of course. They forced our people there to plant the red spice plant everywhere it would grow, so that when the Raspani had too little of grains, grass, and ferns to eat, that plant kept them alive, and got them slaughtered when it spiced up their flavor for the Krall. Red spice grows everywhere there now. I won’t live there, when we have alternatives.”

Maggi reassured him. “You know the Kobani will help you to resettle the colonies that are still acceptable to you, and help you scout worlds that might prove suitable for new colonies. If you could safely operate the captured clanships you could explore on your own, but that appears risky. I presume when each of your peoples has your own planets and industries, you will construct purpose-built ships for each species to use, but that might be well in the future. I’ll bet you can hire human spacecraft companies to build ships for you, based on your designs. I’d think they would like the expanded business. Wherever you decide to explore, we have no shortage of worlds, that’s for certain.”

“True. Particularly for you humans. Even the new PU applicants that want to move to the GF will find many worlds the Toki, Prada and my people must pass up as too challenging. I actually think you full Kobani may have fewer choices among human immigrants.”

“Why? We can live anywhere Normals can live, or that our allies can live. The PU might be shocked at how many of their own citizens on Hub worlds have applied to immigrate. Some even want Kobani mods if they can move to the Galactic Federation. An even larger percentage of Rim World residents, who are already outside the official borders of the Planetary Union, have requested Kobani mods, but don’t want to move anywhere. There will be a lot more Kobani in just a few years.”

Blue clarified his meaning. “My point was that the desirable planets for the Kobani might be limited. You can live on low gravity worlds, but you seem more comfortable on high gravity planets. Your Haven representatives to the Federation rotate home often. Even our President jumps over there frequently, now that he has the physical stamina to live there. Of course, for Stewart, a Jump even without T-cubed travel is mere seconds to Koban. In Human Space I think you only had one world, Heavyside that would suit the Kobani physical capabilities?”

“Yes. There were other high gravity worlds, which had life on them, but not in the variety found on Koban, with its carbon fiber muscles and bones, and the superconducting nerves to make them fast enough to be practical. Heavyside is the only higher gravity world we tried terraforming, and because so few people wanted to live there, and Normals couldn’t bear children on the surface, it never became a real colony.”

“You used the word terraforming. The word refers to making a world more like Earth, does it not? According to the spec ops that became Kobani, and spent time training on Heavyside, terraforming failed on Heavyside. Why do you not try Kobaforming it instead? If that’s a valid word in Standard.”

Maggi considered this a few seconds. “That world isn’t a New Colony, it’s technically an outer Rim World based on location, and it has no representation or diplomatic relations with the PU. The military took over part of it as a training base only after the war started. The civilian population survives on seafood exports, and the damned runaway rabbit population provides meat they get tired of eating. They have no predators there, and rabbits are considered a pest. I think that world is ripe for improved living conditions. Kobaforming might become a real word.

“We can have our Kobani spec op folks based there approach the residents of the single city there, with a proposal to introduce the most gentle of Koban plants and animals. To import more high gravity lifeforms later if that works. It isn’t as if there’s a very useful local ecology already there. Then they could work up to a more involved Koban ecology. Hell, I don't know exactly in what order it’s done, since I was never involved with terraforming a planet. The technology and details of the logical steps to follow are available, and have been used hundreds of times.

“That work mostly ended when genetic modifications were outlawed. Scientists could not change existing life on a planet to feed us, and certainly couldn’t change Earth based life to adapt to that world. Koban has shattered that mold for Earth based life. Perhaps we need to expand to high g worlds in that way. I’ll bet there were more planets in human Space that were bypassed because there were no normal people that could live on them. Now there are people that perhaps can live there. Even if the PU is opposed to our using those worlds in Human Space, they have no say about such planets in Federation space.”

Blue saw a practical problem. “How will you find them? If there was no civilization there for the Krall to kill they never stopped at those stars, so their navigation systems will not show you the planetary details. There were no other races, before you created the Kobani branch of humanity, which would be interested in starting a colony on such a massive world.”

“Blue, I don't see the problem you do. We’re Kobani, and we’re human. Like the Krall, we’re not afraid to go anywhere, and unlike the Krall, we have great curiosity and an urge to explore and to have risky adventures. With so many ships, we’ll have youngsters poking their noses into all kinds of unexplored star systems. I just hope we can keep up with the opportunities that await us.”

Blue flattened out the vertical smile crease on his forehead, indicating a more serious mood. “I just hope we can survive what you reckless adventurers stumble across.”

Chapter 10: Khartoum’s Destiny

“Murderous opportunistic bastards.” Howard Caudwell was furious and disgusted. The human trafficker’s ship was disabled prior to a Jump, but they had tried to draw the closing pursuit away when they dumped their helpless young cargo, encapsulated in a leaky life pod with emergency beacon broadcasting. He was in Comtap link with his boss, Henry Nabarone.

“How many were there?” Nabarone asked him sadly.

“Smugglers or victims?” He came back, his bitterness apparent in his snappish tone.

“The kids of course, Howard. I don’t give a frigging shit how many of those Khartoum pricks we caught, as long as it was all of them. How many of our kids did they have aboard?”

“Four. Three girls and a boy, preteens except for the boy, who was sixteen. The youngest girl survived for a few minutes after the cutter pulled the pod aboard, but she was unconscious and unaware of what was happening. They each suffered severe decompression, and they had struggled to stuff strips of their clothes into the leak. The older kids burned their oxygen faster as they fought to save themselves, and didn’t last as long as the smaller girl, who looked to be about age six.”

“Howard, I don't want to make the crew on the cutter feel bad, but the smugglers dumped the pod to get the chase ship to stop for a rescue while they caught a Jump Tac. Why didn’t the cutter save the kids, and let the pricks escape. If the PU hadn’t boycotted Khartoum from new technology, they would have had a T-squared drive and could have been gone as soon as they left atmosphere. A diversion like the one they used was only a ploy to give them time. It should have worked. Instead, the kids died and they were caught. Why didn’t their strategy work? Bad luck catching a tachyon, or did the cutter give chase and ignore the kids?” His last question had an edge.

“Hell Henry, the diversion worked okay from the kidnapper’s vantage point. The cutter immediately turned to pursue the pod, and it would never have been able to catch the traffickers after that chase. The heartless pricks had triggered the pod’s thrusters to increase the gap, and programmed the steering computer for a random walk mode that made it change directions all the time. They punctured the hull so that escaping atmosphere was clearly detectable, encouraging the cutter to exert every effort to make the rescue. It was hard to catch the pod before the hole in the hull bled out nearly all the air pressure. It turns out they wanted that boy dead if they couldn’t get away with him. The three girls were already aboard when the boy was captured, and were incidental.”

“Then how’d the cutter catch them if it chased the pod? They should have had enough time to get minimum Jump energy. Did you have a second cutter aloft?”

“Nope, we had a Falcon and a Kobani.”

“A what? Oh, you must mean Haveram’s bird. How the hell did the Chief get involved?”

“He was on Poldark buying Hub credits with precious metals and gems so he could go shopping on Old Colony planets. Our banks know him now, and he doesn’t have to offer proof of legal origin for his Koban minerals and jewels. He was about ready to lift from the same little spaceport where he does some of his under the table buys when he’s here. The Falcon has a good suite of com gear and an AI that monitors airwaves for suspicious transmissions that might be about him. The Falcon’s AI detected there were several police shuttles inbound. It alerted Haveram in case they were coming for him.

The AI then told him about the Tower’s attempt to order another ship to wait for other traffic to clear before launching. The Chief realized the police were actually homing on the Delta Dawn, the smuggler’s registry name. One of the kids, the boy, is from the wealthy Christoph family, and he had a tracker device embedded in case of a kidnapping for ransom. Otherwise, the police wouldn’t have been closing in on that ship at all. No one knew the girls were also held captive.”

“How did Haveram get in on the chase?”

“When the Dawn lifted against instructions, Haveram heard the police shuttles broadcast an alert to our cutter in orbit, and they told the cutter’s captain that it was an escaping child kidnapper. As I said, they didn’t know about the other three kids at that time. I’ll have to clear the Falcon of a traffic violation for an unauthorized launch, but Haveram was airborne before the Dawn even cleared atmosphere. The Falcon has a hell of a Normal Space drive and it reached space fast. When the Chief saw the cutter veer off chasing the ejected escape pod, he micro-Jumped dangerously close to the Delta Dawn and shot off several of their Trap emitters, leaving them stuck in this system. He boarded them entirely alone.”

“The Falcon is armed? I didn’t know that.”

“Henry, all you had to do was ask him, Chief Haveram hasn’t made it a secret to us. He has three clanship heavy laser cannons, and one plasma cannon, all cleverly concealed from the outside. I knew about it a while ago, because he invited me to retire after the war and join him in a shipping company he plans to form.”

“Hey, don’t you do that before I finish mopping up on K1. I need you commanding the forces left on Poldark until I get back.”

“Relax. I’ll keep babysitting for you. I may take him up on the offer eventually, but only if and when he can get me a captured clanship to fly. T-cubed is the transportation wave of the future, and only Koban has the ships that are easy to convert. The Falcon, as a T-squared ship of human design, can’t be converted to a T-cubed drive and would need a complete new drive installed, same as it did when it was changed to a T-squared drive. That bird is going the way of the dinosaur, so he has to replace his beloved ship.”

“Fine,” he said, mollified, “But you had better give me some notice before you punch out, please. I take it Haveram is who discovered the connection to Khartoum after the boarding. Only Mind Taps could have gotten that out of the crew so fast, before the cutter took them into official custody. Are they Arab looking? That should have attracted attention on Poldark if they were men with swarthy skins and Arab accents. Some of their smugglers even use hormonal creams to restore ratty looking beards, to overcome the genetics of hundreds of years ago. Their religion wouldn’t be anyone’s business if they didn’t use it as an excuse for a fanatical and corrupted purpose, such as human trafficking, which many of the sheiks in charge of Khartoum’s Destiny do.”

“The prisoners aren’t on the ground yet, but Haveram says nine of the crew were hired thugs of the lowest moral caliber, spacers and gunmen recruited from various Rim World underworld sources. Only the captain and first mate are from Khartoum, but they don’t look or sound the part. The hired hands knew exactly who they worked for, and have similar moral standards, which is to say none at all if the money is right. They’ve apparently made multiple successful snatches on Poldark in the past, and on other Rim Worlds after the war started, selling the kids or young women on Khartoum. We have their encrypted logbook key, thanks to Mind Tap, and it provided a manifest of past trips. We know the victim names, ages and genders, to which sheiks the captain made his previous sales, and how much was paid. It’s a very lucrative trade and more widespread than we suspected.”

“When Haveram learned how they killed those kids today, what kept that captain and his mate alive, or any of them for that matter?”

“He Comtapped me, and asked if he could accidentally hole their hull or simply shove them out an airlock. I reluctantly asked him not to do that, since we needed their public trial to establish their connection to Khartoum. It was too late to prevent some broken bones, but all of them will heal before the trials. Executions would be called for by pre-colony Poldark law, but the sissy PU laws will prevent the executions they deserve.

“Hell, Henry, that’s a bit of irony don’t you think? Under PU law, hero Haveram that caught the scum would warrant execution, being gene modified. A consolation is if the nine scumbags are given life sentences on Poldark, they’ll find themselves placed in the general prison population. That could prove fatal to them as child killers from Khartoum, from other prisoners. In any case, we need to wake up our citizens that with the Krall gone, and normal society still in tatters here, the crooks are moving into the vacuum after the navy pulled back to the Hub, and most of the PU army is off planet with you, and civil authority isn’t fully restored.”

“I hope to hell our panty waist PU appointed Governor plans to do something about Khartoum.”

“Calling Fletcher names ain’t good politics Henry, and she is from Poldark. I talked to her and she really wants to do something, but as a New Colony and a member of the PU, Poldark can’t up and send a force to Khartoum to do anything. The PU isn’t in the mood for a local war on any scale, and we don’t even have diplomatic relations with that Rim World pesthole. The PU can’t recall an ambassador they don’t have, which would only show their civilized displeasure, or they could impose an added economic boycott. Since the sheiks don’t openly deal with us infidels anyway, that’s of little use. A naval blockade of Khartoum’s shipping would be tantamount to a declaration of war, so that won’t happen. Frankly, the sheiks wouldn’t give a shit what the PU might say if they won’t use force. Aside from the military, we don’t have an interstellar police force for unaligned Rim Worlds.”

“By damn, I’ll be done here in four more months, and I’ll come back and provoke some sort of frigging reaction from those bastards, to excuse our taking military action.”

“How about something under the radar, and more forceful than you can apply with the regular PU army troops under your command? By the way, doing what you suggested would cause a storm of diplomatic problems with other Rim Worlds, and get your ass fired. Military action by you would be perceived as coming from the PU, not from a reactionary Poldark general. Which you know you are.

“It would be worse politically than what Medford’s public statements in front of the Capitol stirred up with the Rim Worlds. It was aimed at Koban, but her words and sentiment applied to any Rim World. It might spark Rimmers to buy arms, and get belligerent over perceived PU interference in their affairs. We don’t need border wars and skirmishes over this.

“The Kobani, on the other hand, are enjoying a spate of respect and sympathetic coverage by the news media. Why don’t you Comtap Haveram and Tet, and have a joint conference? With you away on K1, it’s a perfect time for something to happen to Khartoum that clearly leaves you, and Poldark, clear of suspicion and will please public sentiment here at home and other planets along the Rim.

“Tet has proposed an interstellar Kobani police force, or defense pact. This is the opportunity to do something good, which will be popularly supported. When leaked to the news with details, it could get the decent Rim governments interested in hiring Kobani for protection from bad behaving neighbors, and generate moral support from Hub world populations for such an independent police force.”

“Ah Ha. I like your devious mind Howard. You’ll make a good partner with Haveram. I’ll get back to you.”

****

“Khartoum Defense Command, this is Captain Haveram, owner and operator of the freighter Falcon, Poldark Registry, requesting permission to land at Khartoum City Spaceport. Here is my digital registry and manifest.” The electronic documentation was then transmitted.

It was several minutes before there was an answer, in an accusatory and distrustful voice, but speaking Standard without the Arabic accent expected. “Falcon, this ship’s previous visit here was over three years ago. The primary owner then was Malcom Trakovic, and the Captain was Miljan Pasternak. Who the hell are you?”

Haveram answered calmly, “I just told you. I’m the current owner and operator of the Falcon, with no partners. I bought the ship from Trakovic three years ago, when the war made his business difficult and unprofitable to operate on Poldark. Things have eased here now, the navy is gone and travel and shipping is no longer restricted. The local law isn’t able to provide as much inspection as did the navy. I have some unusual cargo. I want to renew a business relationship with the sheiks of Khartoum’s Destiny, like that Trakovic had.”

“We don’t know you, and therefore there’s no relationship to renew. I doubt you’re a Muslim, so that’s a strike against you here.”

“Neither was Trakovic or Captain Pasternak, but I will render all the proper respect. Perhaps you should ask Sheik Abdul Sayed if he would like his prize cargo that he expected to arrive with the Delta Dawn. Not to mention future services from me that the other ship provided for him and other sheiks, out in the Rim region. I guarantee you the Dawn and crew aren’t coming back from Poldark, and it was the news of its very public capture three days ago, which stirred me to inquire about expanding my business. I can offer Sheik Sayed something he wanted very much that was on the other ship.”

There was a long pause, then a short transmission. “Hold your equatorial orbit above five hundred miles. Don’t shift to other latitudes by more than ten degrees or descend more than fifty miles. I’ll have your ass blasted out of space with heavy plasma bolts if you do. We have batteries placed completely around the planet.”

“Hey, I read the published standard arrival instructions. I know what the hell I’m supposed to do, I hope you do.”

He didn’t get the snappish reply he half expected from the controller on duty. The man was more than just a space traffic controller at this low traffic world, and working at the Planetary Defense Command meant that if he said you couldn’t land or deviate, he could back up his threat.

It was six minutes before the previous speaker returned to the frequency. No other space traffic was heard in that entire time, indicative of how limited traffic here was. “Sheik Sayed says your manifest doesn’t say you carry what he wanted. The Dawn had a specific cargo he ordered. If you have that, he’ll talk to you. On the ground. Otherwise, leave or get burned.”

“I’ll admit, the rare animals I carry might not sound as truly exotic as they are, and they aren’t anything the Sheik ordered. In fact, they aren’t even aboard for him or any Sheik. Nevertheless, the item labeled as one fair-haired colt is only for the Sheik. Everything else is speculation cargo I already had, to see what might be of interest to possible buyers on other planets.”

“A horse? The Sheik didn’t mention that, asshole. He has hundreds of them. You best have something more to offer him.”

“No. That item is something that he definitely wanted, and had been waiting for it this month, waiting for several years in fact, but he’ll know what I mean when you tell him that it isn’t really a colt. I’m not discussing this over an open unencrypted frequency. Tell him.”

The kidnapped boy was what the Sheik had ordered procured for him. The only son of a former business partner, from before the war. The father was heir to a third of the Christoph family business, and had screwed the sheik out of some investments when he arranged to launder some of his billions in dirty money through front companies on Poldark. The start of the war had ended the lucrative relationship, and the father of the boy had kept the cleaned money, originally earned by the sheik from human trafficking and smuggling among various wealthy Rim World and New Colony purveyors of young innocent flesh, illicit drugs and arms. Sayed had wanted to obtain clean Hub credits for legal investments and purchases, which were blocked for him by using Khartoum Rials or certain other Rim World currencies he received in payment. Rim worlds had a history of dealing with the sheiks, but they would only accept Rials at a very steep exchange rate.

Haveram knew all this from the minds of the captain and first mate of the Delta Dawn. The dead boy had been sent to private schools and lived in a guarded and sealed family compound, half a world away from the Krall invasion. A powerful AI, and security guards, kept the Christoph family safe from outsiders, and their pictures out of the news and off social media. The names of the four dead children were still being withheld from the news and families, or even that deaths had occurred. Nevertheless, the boy’s family had powerful connections and might find out at any time. The Governor couldn’t hold off notifying them very long. The Khartoum operation would have to move fast.

The captain of the Delta Dawn had used a Poldark contact kept on retainer, who had watched the Christoph family compound for several years. When the targeted boy reached puberty, he started sneaking out to have adventures with local girls, who didn’t know who the rich, good-looking blonde young man was. The contact didn’t have a picture of the lad he was looking for, but his age, and a physical description that resembled his father, was convincing. He was seen coming and going from an inconspicuous locked side entry from inside the walled Christoph family compound. It was enough for Sheik Sayed to act.

Even if he was the wrong boy, he had a market value, and if the right boy, he was nearly priceless to the sheik. Either as an object of ransom and financial ruin for his father, or for pure revenge. There was financial evidence that the father, heir to part of the Christoph family fortune, had made some poor personal investments in attempted war profiteering schemes, and might not be able to pay his full debt to the sheik. In that case, a very sexually and physically abused young man would be returned home, near death, with no tongue, and too crippled in mind and body to communicate.

The boy’s father would get to see the worst that human trafficking did to its victims, and be unable to reveal his connection to that trade, to explain why his own son had been deliberately selected, despite far easier and less conspicuous targets. He’d have no proof anyway. The rumors that it was bad business to cheat the sheiks of Khartoum’s Destiny would be circulated in the small illicit circles that did business with them.

Minutes later, the answer was delivered. “He wants you to land and turn over the property for prompt payment. You are cleared to make an approach to Khartoum Spaceport now.”

“Not so fast. I’m not about to turn this item over to anyone but Sheik Sayed in person. The actual value may prove to be far greater than it appears on the surface. I want a deal that offers me either a set percentage of this deal, or a longer term service arrangement for my ship and myself with the sheik.”

“Who do you think you are to dictate terms to one of our most powerful men? You’re just a smuggler.”

“I’m the smuggler that got him what he has wanted for years, and that he had the patience to wait for it to arrive. This is my calling card and an introduction to other things I can achieve for him. He entrusted his original deal to a man who was captured, and then spilled his guts to the Poldark authorities. That’s how I learned of this agreement, from my high-level contacts, and managed to fulfill the contract the Sheik had with Captain Khalid Mubarak. Thanks to me that deal remains a secret, since the dead can’t speak.” At least it was unknown to the public on Poldark. For now.

“Sheik Sayed should hear that I know the real name of Delta Dawn’s captain, and the unimaginative alias he used here was Ali Baba. That’s proof of what I learned from my contacts. Mubarak will never speak of secrets he knows about Sheik Sayed, or of Khartoum’s Destiny to gain his freedom.”

The last statement was probably true, because Captain Mubarak hadn’t spoken a word of any of what Haveram had learned from his unguarded mind, and he had no intention of talking. The inference was that Haveram had killed the man, or ordered it done, to prevent his earning his release by revealing the kidnapping plot and other deals with the Sheiks of Khartoum.

Suddenly, an authoritative accented voice broke in. “Give him the coordinates for the pad near my family compound and palace. Have his ship escorted.” Sayed had obviously been listening in on the conversation.

“It will be done Sheik Sayed.” There was a pause then the controller spoke to Haveram.

“Captain, I just sent the coordinates to your navigation computer, and a cutter is lifting shortly to follow you. Wait until the pilot contacts you with instructions before leaving your present orbit.”

“Will do.” He disconnected.

Haveram turned to his companions, who flickered into view on the Bridge as they deactivated suit stealth. “At least we don’t have to shoot our way in. The Falcon is built for speed, not a slug match.”

“Looks like we’ve been invited to tea.” Sarge said with a grin.

Thad shook his head. “Can’t trust the buggers. They may act polite at first, and then cut your throat.”

Haveram nodded, “That was the impression I got from a crook on New Australia, who had tried twice to get in bed with these people. His first contact team never came back, and another one was sent packing with the front man’s throat cut. That thug thought the Falcon meant I had the same connections as the previous owner of this boat. Keeping the same registry name might have helped us get a foot in the door now.”

“Once Sayed has the kid in hand, he may decide he doesn’t need a new partner. Getting the kid out, and rescuing your butt might take more than a few minutes. You’d have to hold them off.” Sarge noted.

There sounded a harsh tone of dissent, from a voice pitched somewhat higher than the speaker had intended. “This damn kid has a name you know, and he can get himself out of a jam, especially when matched up against these Normal scum buckets.”

The remark came from the baby-faced ringer for a dead boy, who had been hurriedly T-cubed Jumped from Koban to Poldark two days earlier. He’d arrived late on the same day that Delta Dawn and her crew had been captured.

Bill Saber, who constantly tried to get friends and family to stop calling him “Billy,” was a former classmate of Cory Martin, who was Dillon and Noreen’s youngest son. He could probably pass for as young as fifteen if need be, although he was actually eighteen, by only a few weeks. He’d gone on the final K1 raid by sneaking aboard a ship at Koban, avoiding the age eighteen limit Mirikami had set for participants in that fight.

Now, the brash chip-on-his-shoulder youngster felt that he had been adequately blooded after fighting multiple Krall close up and personal. He was slightly built, as was his older brother Fred, and his small features, good looks and blonde hair, had made him a passable stand-in for the dead sixteen year old he would pretend to be. Getting him to act frightened and insecure might take extensive acting lessons.

“Bill…,” Thad barely remembered to knock off the ending, “Being faster, smarter, and stronger, doesn’t fully counter being outnumbered and unarmed on an unfamiliar planet, where many of the people only speak Arabic.”

“Don’t worry, colonel. I’ll play the helpless frightened victim as long as needed. I practiced with the extra sets of hand restraints you brought from Poldark, and I can snap the links between the cuffs easily, and then twist the cuffs to slip them off. I could kick asses even with them on, for that matter. They’re Normals, if that term applies to slavers.”

Haveram offered a caution. “It’s not the problem of getting your hands free; it’s where they may incarcerate you. You can’t as easily get out of a metal walled cell. They may also swap out the restraints. Slavers surely have their own shackles, with perhaps electronic monitoring and shock application if you act belligerent. You’re a piece of meat to them.”

“A valuable piece of meat, until they discover there’s no ransom for me.” The boy certainly knew the limits to his value to the Sheik.

Sarge nodded, “Then it’s a good thing we have some heavier firepower behind that nearby ice giant, if you and the Chief need a distraction in a hurry.” Hiding behind the next planet out, there were four ships with a couple hundred Kobani waiting for a Comtap call if they were needed.

Haveram was alerted by his AI. “Sir, a small warship, cutter class, has just left atmosphere, and is closing with us.”

“Thanks, Bela.” He then spoke to the others.

He used the old formal Hub society mode of address, which most Kobani were no longer using. “Gentle Men and Gracious Ladies you had all better vanish before I’m hailed. I don't want to delay my reply, causing suspicion.”

The ten armored figures, male and female, that had clustered on the Bridge or near its two hatchways, flickered out of sight. Haveram could hear them moving to their places of preselected concealment.

“Bill, you’re supposed to be penned up with the animals, so you’d better go back there and lock yourself in. Tell Kim and Karl where we’re landing and who we’ll be meeting. I could Comtap them, but a direct frill is more personal to them than their new chips. Remind them that they are supposed to be tame big cats, and not to send terror thoughts to any strangers that might be brave enough to touch them. The other animals can smell them but have been calm for the last few hours, so I don't want growls to stir them up. I’d like to keep them all calm for our introduction and sales pitch to the Sheiks. If we get that far.”

“Yes Sir.” He turned to leave, but tossed a comment back over his shoulder. “You do know you won’t get that level of cooperation from the raptor, or that big bull and his cows.”

“I know we can’t control them, but at least I can get the cats to cooperate.”

“Ha. You wish.” A voice that sounded like Sarge’s sounded overhead.

“Nothing can be done to shut up some big dumb animals.” He said to the air. He glanced up at an area of the overhead bulkhead and grinned, where he knew a stealthed Sarge was hiding in “plain sight.” The chuckle from the adjacent ceiling section demonstrated Thad was up there as well, wedged between coolant pipes and air ducts on this old model freighter. All of the Kobani aboard, other than Haveram and Saber were placed where a searcher wouldn’t accidentally bump into an invisible object.

On the general Comtap circuit for the entire complement, he said, “People, at least shut off your damned speakers. I don't want to have to claim it was me that burped or farted when they board us for inspection.”

When the Khartoum cutter called him, he was ordered to fly to the coordinates he’d been provided. The escort then followed him five miles in trail, with missile tracking radar active and locked on for the entire way, providing a feeling of cuddly warmth for this unfriendly place.

Before he started his descent, the cutter pilot asked about his crew.

“I normally travel with a two or three man crew, but for this trip I didn't want to share the money I expect to make, so I came alone except for cargo.”

“After landing, unlock all external hatches for inspection parties to enter. Don’t step outside. That would prove fatal.”

“Understood.” He started his descent.

The Falcon was more a large flat oval shape, compared to the vertical ovoid of a clanship, and had only three decks. The lower deck was equipment, Jump drive, fuel and thrusters, and a power link from the Tachyon Traps to the plasma chamber for the clanship heavy plasma cannon Haveram had installed. The upper deck was Bridge, crew quarters, some masterfully concealed compartments for hiding high value small sized contraband, and the three concealed and disguised laser cannons.

The middle deck had the highest ceiling, and was the main storage area for cargo, passengers if it was cleaned up and configured for them, some additional hidden compartments under deck plates to hide people or things, and the main ramp at the rear for loading and unloading cargo. On this trip, there were extremely heavily barred pens for the animal cargo, isolated from one another by sight via floor to ceiling partitions, with some sound absorbing capability. Scent couldn’t be masked, despite running the air handlers at maximum. The smell of animal waste was pervasive, and the Jump from nearby Poldark was two and a half days for the Falcon’s T-squared Jump Drive, so it had accumulated more than a bit of odor.

The pens nearly filled the available main hold space, and one locked wire cage in the back had a bunk for Bill Saber and a toilet bucket, or rather, it was for Arkedy Christoph; the boy he was supposed to be. Next to him was a similarly flimsy slightly elevated wire cage for the pair of rippers. Flimsy was a relative term. No Normal human, or even Earth born tigers, could have escaped those cages, but a Kobani and rippers could tear them open with only a bit of effort.

The landing pad where Haveram landed seemed to deserve a grander name than just a pad. He’d landed at Rim World city spaceports that were smaller. The white and beige palace, about five miles away, was impressive and excessively gaudy. There was a four lane divided highway that led directly from the pad to the palace. There were hundreds of tall skinny trees in the grassy highway median, sporting a cluster of broad fronds at the top. These were the only Earth style palm trees Haveram had ever seen outside of a few Hub worlds.

For some reason, he’d expected the area around the palace and landing pad to be in a desert setting, with sand dunes or dry rocky flats all around. Instead, there were miles of beautiful, well-watered green grass on low gently rolling hillocks, with many stands of trees and palms, surrounding multiple large lakes and smaller ponds, which in hindsight resembled oases, but without the parched landscape in between. Haveram saw numerous horses, camels, and goats, and what appeared to be several varieties of pale horned animals that looked like a type of antelope. All of them were freely roaming and grazing, or drinking water. Swans or white geese were in the water, and birds flitted between the trees and palms. Close to the horizon, on a low hill at the end of a winding two-lane road, was a small village. It was very pastoral.

There was a custom designed, white and gleaming space yacht that rivaled the size of the Falcon on the far side of the pad, adjacent to the main road. The Falcon had been ordered to land as far from that luxury craft as possible, and the cutter landed in the center of the pad, with its weapons trained on the Falcon. Just as friendly as ever.

A cluster of heavy trucks and open cab vehicles swooped out of several hangers or warehouses on the pad’s perimeter, carrying dozens of armed men waiting to board him. Haveram flipped the switches to release the half dozen smaller hatch locks, and lowered his main ramp. He walked to the top of the ramp to await his welcome wagon visitors.

A large swarthy man stepped out of a gleaming white painted truck, sporting a side arm on his right hip, and another in a shoulder holster. He wore a tan and beige uniform with red and yellow epaulets, with a red stripe down the outside of each pant leg. He pulled a saucer cap with a black bill from the vehicle and set it carefully over his short curly black hair. There were gold insignia on each collar; one looked like a PU Army captain’s bars, the other some sort of insignia design.

The man, after looking over the ship, looked up the ramp at Haveram. “I’m Captain Abdul Kader, of Sheik Sayed’s personal guard. You are Mike Haveram?”

“Yes, but I go by my nickname of Chief, to my friends.”

There were calls from each side of the Falcon, from men that had moved around the sides of the ship.

“Captain Haveram, two of your hatches do not seem to want to open for my men. Why is that?” It didn’t sound exactly threatening, but it was asked firmly, and he hadn’t called him Chief.

“The two hatches on the center of the left and right sides are manual open hatches, without motors. Just rotate the wheels counterclockwise until they stop, and pull on them hard, they’re unlocked. They’re for emergency use in case the ship was without power, and a crewman was outside.”

Kader called out in Arabic to the men at those two hatches, and nodded at the shouted replies and started walking up the ramp. Haveram extended his hand, which the man seemed about to ignore, but apparently reconsidered and extended his own for a firm handshake. Haveram made certain to keep his grip slightly looser than the one he received, thus avoiding the mistake of acting intimidating towards an underling that reports to the man you want to meet with you.

Haveram also knew not to show the soles of his shoes if he was invited to sit. If at the same table or couch, he should never allow his shoe to touch that of others. It was a sign of disrespect. He would not refuse any food or drink offered, and he would thank and complement his host for his hospitality. He couldn’t ask about a wife or wives, but could ask about health, children, schooling, and hobbies or interests, as part of building trust and a connection.

This establishing of a personal connection was essentially foreplay for learning more about the social structure here, who did what sort of illegal business, where they were, and what did they have to sell or want to buy. Surreptitious Mind Taps would come first, and if nothing seriously criminal was exposed here, they wanted to get a reference to meet with Sheiks that did have such interests. In the meantime, Sheik Sayed had already tipped his hand. He was known to engage in child abduction and selling, and his agents had killed his “cargo” in an attempt to escape.

Money laundering was a low priority crime to the Kobani, although the Poldark Governor was extremely interested to learn which influential people had profited from the criminal trade. It was human trafficking, particularly child exploitation, which Mirikami had told Haveram and friends he wanted ended by the sheiks. The four dead children might actually be considered luckier than those that survived to reach Khartoum’s Destiny.

Captain Kader and his men were seemingly thorough in their inspection, with at least twenty men searching compartments, storage lockers or closets. Some went directly to the concealed floor panels in four areas, where they quickly located the inconspicuous fasteners and raised the panels, weapons drawn. Not content to merely look inside the empty compartments, they dropped down inside and felt around. It was obvious the Falcon’s smuggling secrets were known to Kader’s men, at least its hidden features. None of them climbed up to sweep hands across exposed conduits and ceiling fixtures, where the stealthed Kobani were observing them using their visor presentations.

Kader, chatting with Haveram as they strolled through the ship, watched for signs of nervousness on Haveram’s part, looking where his eyes flicked to see where he glanced as the search progressed. He suddenly paused and pressed a hand to his right ear to block ambient noise as he apparently received a transducer communication from one of his men.

He gave Haveram a hard look. “Captain, I need you to lead me to your main cargo hold. You appear to have brought live cargo with you that you did not declare.”

“I suspect your men didn’t know what the items I listed on my manifest actually were. Aside from the boy, I declared three other items on the manifest by name. Four rhinolo, four blue streaks, a whiteraptor, and a pair of rippers.”

“These are animals?”

“Yes, they are. Very exotic and rare animals, from a planet well outside Human Space, and they are totally unknown to the Planetary Union. The PU would never allow anyone to import these animals until they spent decades studying them on their planet of origin. I think they will be of value to a collector of rare animals. I saw the herds of Oryx, camels, horses, and some other animals I didn’t recognize here. If Sheik Sayed is interested he can make me an offer, or he may know of a collector that would like to see them.”

“Presumptuous of you to think you can come here and sell random merchandise that wasn’t agreed to or described in advance.”

“I didn't presume anything, because I didn’t intend to offer them for sale here. I merely listed them as part of my cargo, as instructed. They were my original cargo, before my Poldark contacts told me about Arkedy Christoph, who was a bit of opportunistic business on my part, which has to be conducted here. I already have potential clients for the animals at other Rim Worlds, but the opportunity for a business arrangement with the Sheik, concerning the Christoph boy took precedence.

“There was no safer place for me to house the animals than where they already were, on my ship. I never landed the Falcon on Poldark, to avoid a customs inspection there, and I traveled down via shuttle to pick up the boy. If there are no better offers from buyers here for these animals, one of my usual customers will buy them from me.”

They strode through the hatch of the main hold in time to be greeted by an ear-piercing screech of a roar. A small male whiteraptor, still showing his largely teal feathers of youth, was thrusting part of his bloody and narrow toothy mouth through the bars of his enclosure at the man scrambling backwards on the sawdust on the deck, getting away from the beast. He was missing his right hand up to the lower forearm, explaining the blood on the raptor’s mouth and the floor. Another man rushed to help him get back, looking fearfully at the fifteen-foot raptor, one hand on his submachine gun.

The injured man’s own screams had been covered by the noise from the predator, which had made him pay for his carelessness at thinking a feathered animal was safe to approach. The screened off large pen, which contained the four rhinolo, was producing its own noises of deep heavy grunts from the massive bull, and lesser bleats of fear from the two cows and a weaned male calf. They were not the normal prey of whiteraptors since the winter predator only visited snow covered rhinolo territory after those herds had migrated far to the south. Nevertheless, the unfamiliar sounds and smell of the now stirred up raptor clearly sounded threatening. The four blue streak antelopes were backed into a corner of their pen, their long curved black horns lowered towards the source of the raptor’s screams and the open part of their partitions around their pen.

None of the animals could see the others due to the arrangement of the partitions, but the grazers had become nervously accustomed to the scents of the predators, until now. The two rippers were lying quietly on their sides, intense blue eyes gazing curiously at the opening of the partition that surrounded their pen. They hadn’t joined in the noise making, but their clear identity as huge predators had kept the searchers from coming close to them, despite the smaller heavy wire mesh versus wider thick bars that confined them. The young feathered raptor had fooled the injured man, who apparently though it was similar to an ostrich, and had underestimated the speed with which this animal could move, compared to an ostrich. Some of those birds were freely wandering the surrounding area.

Haveram looked at the floor inside the raptor pen, and spotted a badly bent and crushed submachine gun. The weapon had probably been in the man’s hand when he came too close, or perhaps reached through the bars with the muzzle of the weapon. A whiteraptor, even one this young, was fast and deadly. The man could have been eviscerated by either one of the long inner toe claws of the raptor if he’d been pulled closer to the bars.

There was a rapid exchange in Arabic, which Haveram had translated for him by his AI, Bela, and relayed to his, and the other Kobani’s Comtaps. The injured man wanted the raptor killed, but after Captain Kader saw the blue-green hued animals, and their variety, he ordered his men to hold their fire or risk the Sheik’s displeasure.

Haveram made a mental link silently and thought, “At least we seem to have more than Billy Boy to interest them. I’d think Kader would know what sort of things interest his boss, or that he might want to buy to sell to other Sheiks. I’ll try to get a group meeting set up, with Sayed playing the seller. Perhaps we won’t have to travel as much as we thought.”

The “Billy Boy” reference triggered a mental image of a hand, with a single middle finger extended from the nice young lad. Haveram called Kadar’s attention to the partition located the farthest from the animals, and they walked to its entrance, where another searcher waited, a small Tri-Vid camera dangling from a shoulder strap. The man held a drawing and a picture, as Haveram now noticed several other men carried as well.

He glanced at the two sheets, and the drawing was of a young blond boy, which bore a passing resemblance to Bill Sabre. The other sheet was a picture of a man with blond hair and thin build, which could be an older version of the hand drawn youth. Haveram glanced at Bill, and was pleased to note that, despite being a bit dirty and disheveled now, with his hair a bit longer, he could pass as being related to the persons in either picture. Haveram knew that the older man’s picture was of the father of the dead boy, and Saber actually looked more like him than did that hand drawing.

Haveram gestured to the captive. “Captain, this boy, when I took possession of him from my Poldark government informant, told me his father would send people to rescue him, and that they would kill me. Seems that he thinks his father is rich and powerful. He refused to say his name, but kindly allow me to introduce you to Arkedy Christoph.”

Saber, playing his rehearsed role, let his jaw drop in shock at the revelation of that name. Then he leaped up and extended his shackled hands to grasp the heavy grid wire of his cage. “Then you know that my family will hunt all of you down if you hurt me. Our security men are already hunting you.” He managed to look scared to counter his brave words.

Haveram grinned. “Your tracker was being jammed while you were on Poldark, and as soon as we Jumped, it was light years out of range. The ring shaped gadget I passed over your right leg and thigh yesterday killed the transmitter. You aren’t being followed, and no one is coming. Sorry kid. Nothing personal. You’re just trade goods to me.”

Kader had taken the camera from his flunky, and now trained it on the boy as he activated the camera. A small antenna extruded from the top, so the image was probably being transmitted to the Sheik in his palace. As confirmation, Kader tilted his head in the typical “listening” posture, nodded as he said “Of course, Noble One.” and moved closer to the pen with the camera.

“Turn sideways.” The man ordered Saber.

“Screw you.” Sabre answered defiantly.

Kader laughed. “This is a proof of life video you stupid boy. There will be no ransom paid to send you home alive if they think you are already dead. In that case you will be dead when we send your mangled remains home in a small box.”

Sabre, showing the proper degree of sullenness, turned his side and profile to the camera.

Kader listened again, and then said, “The exotic animals on the Falcon were destined for a customer on another planet, but Captain Haveram has said he will entertain selling them here….” A pause.

“My Sheik, you have not seen the like of these on any world. They are new to Human Space…” Another pause. “I have no doubt he will be honored to accept, after proper preparation.” Kadar looked sternly at Haveram as he said this. Then apparently, the Sheik cut the connection.

He turned to face Haveram. “Sheik Sayed has invited you to his palace tomorrow, and will discuss the financial arrangement for your delivery of this boy. After he transmits the images of your other cargo to various collectors that he knows, he will take possession of your secondary cargo. He has offered to pay you a generous finder’s commission, provided he is successful at selling them. If there are no buyers, he will keep them, as part of your introductory calling card, as you described the purpose of your visit.”

There was no question Haveram was donating his other cargo to the Sheik, and had to settle for whatever commission Sayed decided was fair.

Haveram bowed slightly. “I hope the Sheik knows knowledgeable buyers, who will appreciate the rarity and uniqueness of these creatures. They are very hard to obtain, and have great value.”

Kader looked over at the two staring and relaxed rippers across the passage from where the boy was being held. “I assure you, he knows. Before you and I arrived in the hold, Sheik Sayed had my man sending him images of all of the animals. Coincidentally, he had asked the other guard, the man that was injured, to prod the agitated giant bird that bit off his hand. That footage will hugely increase the price he can ask, I think.”

He smiled at the cruelty of his boss’ casually risking the safety of one of his employee’s, if employee was the proper term on Khartoum’s Destiny for men that worked for the despot.

Haveram’s sympathy was only half-pretended for the poor man. “I suppose a month in a med lab will initiate the growth of a new hand and forearm for the unfortunate fellow.” Haveram raised an eyebrow to imply that was a question.

Kadar shook his head. “I think not. At least not this year. Reem has displeased me in the past with his performance. It’s useful to use this opportunity to encourage greater obedience from him in the future. I’m sure after a year he will want his hand back.” He shrugged, showing it was of little importance to the captain.

Again, looking at the rippers, he said, “It’s fortunate he wasn’t asked to step too close to those…,” He struggled with a descriptor, “Panthers?” he ventured.

Haveram smiled as he saw the two rippers, Kim and Karl, pivot ears to listen. They of course understood Standard, and could speak it to him via their new Comtaps. “No, they are considered more like tigers, but much larger of course. Being called rippers should furnish you with an idea of how they behave in the wild. Ironically, the man who poked the raptor through the bars would have been completely safe if he’d walked into the cage with Kim and Karl. That’s the names of these two, and they will answer to them. Both are completely tame animals. At least as tame as wild beasts can be that were raised from cubs by humans. I didn’t believe it myself until I saw them playing with the crew that transferred them to me. They depend on humans for food and care, and they’re very intelligent. I feed them myself, to make certain they like me.”

Kadar looked doubtfully at the two big cats, now sitting up as if from the mention of their names. “Tame? How do you feed them, stick meat on the end of a long pole?”

“I’ll show you.”

Haveram walked to a cooler inside the partitions around their pen. He raised the lid, grabbed two sizable hunks of red meat from inside, and popped them into a warmer unit on the side of the cooler for a few seconds. He explained, as he pulled the warm meat out. “They like warm meat, at close to natural body temperature.”

He stepped to the double manual latches on the top and bottom of the hinged door, and slid the first one to the unlatched position. This alarmed Kadar, who objected. “Careful, this submachine gun probably wouldn’t stop them if they decide to charge through that door.”

“I can guarantee you that it probably wouldn’t stop them before they got outside. After that, if not fatally hit, you definitely couldn’t stop them if they were in hunting mode. But I’ll put you at ease.” He winked at the cats with the eye Kadar couldn’t see.

“Kim, Karl, get back and sit.”

The two cats backed up to the far end of the pen, and sat side by side, licking their lips, panting.

“If you want, you can slide the latches back in place after I step inside, and watch me feed them their snacks.”

“Wait a moment.” Kadar called in two of his men, and speaking Arabic told them to latch the cage door immediately after Haveram stepped inside. The captain promised to cover them with his submachine gun. They looked nervous, but stepped close to Haveram, who they clearly considered insane.

Haveram opened the cage door part way and stepped inside, with the mesh pushing against his ass as the two henchmen quickly shoved it closed and latched it before they backed away from the half expected mayhem.

Haveram walked calmly to the cats, as Kim Comtapped a bright and amusing thought to him. “Would it look scary enough if I jumped towards you and put my paws on your shoulders?”

“Don’t you dare! That asshole with the gun pointed at us might shoot me in the back trying to protect me from you.”

“OK. But I’d like to see his expression.”

Holding his hands out with a large rhinolo steak in each, the two rippers delicately bit into the dangling hunks as he released them. They then crouched down on their front forelegs and holding the bloody chunks with their claws, tore at the meat, pulling gobbets off to swallow whole with minimal chomping.

Karl looked up and thought at him, “Tame enough for you?”

“Yes. Thanks.”

Kim, her previous joke thwarted, had a complaint. “You could at least have washed your hands before handling our meat. It has a strange flavor. Did you just scratch your butt?”

“Humph.” Haveram grunted. “The bad ass predator is picky today. How can you claim to have wild instincts if your prey needs to bathe first? I’ll bet your Mom opens cans of cat food for you at dinner time.”

The canned food remark was a frequent barb delivered by cats from wild prides, and directed at rippers that were raised with humans. It wasn’t entirely without merit. Imported pet food from human worlds had finally arrived on Koban, featuring exotic alien flavors (to rippers) such as tuna, beef, or pork. Those treats became nightly deserts for many cats, after a normal gorging meal of whatever Koban meat was in the family’s food locker.

Kim thought back, “Did you hunt and kill the pastry you had for breakfast?”

“Touché.”

“Touch what?”

“I mean you made your point. I eat treats too that I didn’t hunt.”

“Do we get out of here now that he sees we didn’t eat you?” Asked Karl.

“Not likely. Just bide your time. You’ll probably have to break out later.”

Haveram reached over to scratch the ears of the two rippers as a demonstration for the Arabs, and Karl obligingly made a fake purring sound. The big cats had now met human cats and dogs, which were brought to Haven for the older humans, who had owned them as pets before their capture by the Krall. The rippers were aware the ridiculously tiny cats made that odd vibrating noise of contentment, which their owners liked. Coming from an eight hundred pound male ripper, it sounded deeper and more ominous, but Karl persisted in acting as if non-Kobani were put at ease by the sound he made.

The irony was that dogs and rippers liked each other, at least after the dogs had been frilled, and learned the big predators liked them, and weren’t going to attack them. Cats however, didn’t care for the mental patterns or attitudes of rippers, and the rippers said cats had odd ways of thinking. Pet cats didn’t care if they killed things they didn’t want to eat, and didn’t always care a great deal for the people that devoted lavish affection on them.

Mentally, when a Kobani objectively compared the Mind Tap thoughts of all three species, they realized that long domesticated dogs thought more like people, and most people already thought a little like rippers, making mutual friendships possible between the three groups. Socially, a sense of belonging to a pride, a pack, or a family, pulled them together.

An Earth bred cat on the other hand or paw, despite a long period of domestication behind them, merely tolerated rippers, dogs, and strange humans around them. They might like or love their “personal” human, but could be quite indifferent to them at times, or even reject them. They had no empathy for the concept of a pride at all. In that respect, the rippers said domestic cats were like the loner desert panthers of Koban, or the Jura continent mated lion pairs. All Koban felines had frill ability, but each species had formed different social structures, united only in the common desire to sense their prey’s thoughts as they died, gaining insight to the minds of what they killed, and appreciation of not killing them for other than food.

Haveram turned his back on the cats and walked to the cage door. Neither man that locked him inside moved to release the slide latches, so he reached through the six-inch square grids and slid the top and bottom bolts open. By now there were at least a dozen men watching him, and as he swung the gate open, all had weapons directed in his general direction. They relaxed when he slid the latches back to seal the gate, unaware that these Koban born animals, or Haveram himself, could break out without opening the door.

He looked at Kadar, and shrugged, “They’re not a threat to the people that feed them.”

The captain nodded his chin down once, in acceptance of his statement. Some of the other onlookers clearly spoke Standard, at least to some extent, because a few made a single upward head movement, which in this culture meant negation. They didn’t believe that.

Kader let him know the Sheik wanted the boy and animals taken from the ship, but that Haveram would receive guest quarters near the animals to ensure they were properly transferred and fed, and until he showed the Sheik’s Master of the Menagerie, as he was called, how to care for the new animals.

“If you do not have proper PU style formal clothing for the palace meeting in the morning, and a dinner tomorrow, a tailor will be sent to your quarters to insure you are dressed to avoid offending the invited guests. Your finder’s commission will increase, if Sheik Sayed is able to haggle for higher bids. Your appearance and behavior will help him, and thus you, to attain the highest prices. You may learn that other sheiks will wish to retain your services if you impress them. You are not to mention the Christoph boy to his guests, because that represents a private deal between you.

“A protocol instructor will arrive to teach you what you need to know to avoid giving accidental offence to the visiting sheiks, which could be fatal for you if the proper form of respect is not shown.”

“I appreciate the preparation. I already know not to show the soles of my shoes, or to ask about how many wives, and to be punctual. Unfortunately, little of Khartoum’s social life is known. Do I bow or shake hands when introduced? Do I reply sir or sire, or sheik if addressing one of them?”

“The instructor will guide you, but in general, you should behave like most people on the Rim Worlds I’ve visited. Shake hands, say Sir, and you might say Sheik along with their name if you are with more than one of them, which is quite possible tomorrow. I hope you do well, because there are items I want imported from Human Space that are seldom seen here. I could deal directly with you. I’d hate to have to feed you to your own rippers if things went bad.”

“They wouldn’t eat me.”

“Not even if starving?”

“Hmm. Valid point.”

“Then please help us bring in the heavy construction equipment we need to move those…, you called them rhinolo?”

“Yes, and if you control the bull, the largest one, the cows and calf will always follow him closely, straying only a little. Except, you would need a massive and tough piece of equipment. You have no idea how powerful that bull is and how hard it is to kill if he gets loose. You can see the thick steel bars holding them, attached floor to ceiling with welds. Unlike the other cages, which can be lifted and carried, the rhinolo must be herded. Where will you keep them?”

“The Sheik owns a number of tanks, would some of those be suitable to force the bull to go where we want, with heavy carbon fiber cables to tie him to them?”

“Perhaps main heavy battle tanks, four of them, front rear and sides would be heavy enough. That bull might be able to tip one of them over.”

“He has a company of them, a dozen tanks total. As to where he will keep the animals, there is a modest coliseum on the other side of the palace, where fights and other local entertainments are sometimes conducted. Until heavier pens are constructed, like the one you have, the rhinolo can roam in the central arena, with thick stone block walls, twenty feet high to contain them. Even the four gates into the ring are sturdy inch thick steel.”

“That sounds secure until you build something permanent, but getting them over there is the problem. The five mile trip from here to that arena provides a great deal of opportunity for that bull to get mad, and eager to break free into the open country side.”

“How did you get them aboard your ship?”

“They were lightly drugged then by the people that sold them to me, and were held in an electrified fence corral, with a chute to my main ramp and extending to this pen. I have some of that fencing in storage, but it would take more than a day to set up and it won’t reach to that arena. I don't have the drug they used, and I don’t know enough about their metabolism to risk a tranquilizer intended for Earth animals. These big grazing animals are not as dumb as you might think, not as they would be on other worlds. They’re relatively bright, and they know an electric fence when they see one. They don’t try to test them, but I don't have very much fencing with me.”

“Then perhaps we should fly close to the arena and offload them there. There are wild animal pens under the seating area and below the arena floor.”

“You’ve seen the size of the Falcon and know the size of that arena. If it’s open to the sky, do you think I will have room to land inside the coliseum and let them walk down the ramp? How big are the events and entertainments held there?”

“I don't know if you are familiar with the history of ancient Rome on Earth, but think of gladiators, or small well trained forces armed with swords and spears, animal predators from multiple planets matched against people armed with hand weapons, or animals against other animals. The sheiks each host competitions with each other, for best fighters, best animals, or most interesting executions. Those are always entertaining, but the largest ones, only two or three held per year, are amazing spectacles and held at the largest arenas. Sheik Sayed had thirty thousand guests at his last hosting, nearly six years ago, and although not the largest in size, his arena will have room for this ship if it can land precisely vertical. Your animals have him interested, if they prove to be as formidable and dangerous as they seem. Only the antelope seem too tame for arena use, but they are attractive for display.”

“Believe me when I tell you that underestimating any animals from the home world of these is a mistake. It would be difficult to capture them, but there are dinosaur analogues there that are much larger and stronger than these animals are. That half-grown feathered whiteraptor is a cousin to the dinosaurs, and its small compared to some of those giants. I think I can attract many customers with those if I can learn how to transport them. I had no idea the entertainments here were so extreme.”

“We don’t let it be known. From what you just told me, you could become very rich if you can provide proof of these animals and be able to deliver them here. But that’s for later. We only have today and part of tomorrow to get ready for the presentation, because the Sheik is very eager to act. You appear to have gained his interest. You are unusually fortunate, and would do well to cultivate more of that good fortune.”

Haveram grinned. “I’ll do my best to deliver everything the sheiks of Khartoum deserve.”

****

The rhinolo transfer had gone very well, at least as far as Captain Kadar and Sheik Sayed was concerned. Only two of their men were killed, when a motorized steel arena door was shut but not latched, with the heavy pins at the top and bottom never inserted into the steel frame. The big bull, after the four rhinolo charged towards the outside light from the Falcon’s deployed ramp, rushed around the arena snorting and bellowing, shattering several two foot thick wooden posts embedded in the floor of the arena, equipped with wrist shackles.

While the bull was occupied with doing that, Haveram used his Normal Space drive and quietly lifted off as soon as the rhinolo were down the ramp. He was hovering and moving away, under the watchful eye of Kadar and two of his men behind him on the Bridge, as he drifted to land at the side of the coliseum, to allow unloading of the other animals. They saw the bull charge back through the place where the Falcon had been, charging right into one of the gray painted twenty by twenty foot doors. It dented only slightly at the middle, but the problem was that the bull had thrust up and to the side as he pulled up his rush, choosing not to simply run into the solid surface at full charge.

The door, not being securely pinned, slid open almost a foot on the right side, revealing a slender view of the open topped corridor used to feed animals or fighting forces into the arena. The other end of that hundred-foot long passage had a duplicate sliding steel door, which was securely latched. In between the big doors were the two animal handlers that had assumed that a closed but unsecured arena door was good enough. They had turned back to the simple motor control to close the door again and latch it, when the bull used its nearly four-foot horn to hook the door. His massive neck muscles, used to fight other bulls to defend his breeding rights with his cows, slammed the multi-ton door wide open along its track. The next targets for its horn and fury were the two men, who fought each other to see who would be first to reach and enter a personnel door, one placed on each side, midway down the passage. They both lost that race.

Haveram was shocked, and felt helpless as he looked down and saw what was about to happen. Kadar and his men simply appeared intrigued while observing the mayhem. Later, after the broken, dismembered, stomped and crushed bodies were removed with shovels and buckets, the captain was forced to apologize to his master, when the sheik eagerly asked to see the video replay.

“Sir, I’m sorry. There was no active arena Tri-Vid camera positioned to catch what happened down that passageway. Nothing was supposed to happen back there so they had not been activated. Several arena cameras shows the bull ramming into the door, then when he saw the narrow gap that his hit caused, he shoved it wide open with his horns and snout. The two handlers were not in the frame of any of the active cameras when they were attacked, but I saw it all. They each were initially speared by the horn through their legs. Then, one after the other, still alive and trying to crawl away, they were hooked again in the legs and tossed high into the air. Unbelievably, they were caught on the longest horn again as they fell, stuck through the center of their torso this time. They were shaken so violently sideways that their bodies were torn open. Because this happened twice in the same manner, I think the bull had the skill to toss and catch them like that. It was a surprising display of precise movements by such a massive animal.

“He was literally bounding down that corridor after them, at times as high as three or four feet off the ground with all four feet. I think it weighs over four tons, but it looked nimble under our gravity. Captain Haveram says all of these animals come from a heavy gravity planet. After the men were dead, the bull backed away and snorted, and seemed to call to the other three. The bodies were then trampled and tossed by all three of the other rhinolo, who took turns by their age I think, the male calf going last.”

In apparent answer to a question, he shook his head. “No, I think these are stronger Sir. Sheik Al Mady’s Hybrid African tusked war elephants are certainly heavier and larger, and Sheik Nami’s pseudo-rhinos from Trandor are about the same size, but I don't think they would stand a chance against these beasts, not in strength, and certainly not in speed or agility. I think that bull, all by himself, could beat several elephants and pseudo-rhinos in the same arena with him.”

Haveram naturally could only hear one side of the transducer conversation, but Kadar said, “Yes Sir. We have a number awaiting your judgement at your next hearing day. No Sir, none are accused of infractions that severe. Perhaps loss of a hand or foot, with a med lab regeneration after however many months you decided. Yes Sir, I’ll have them brought to the arena and held for tomorrow.”

When his master disconnected, Kadar, seemed relieved he’d not received a punishment for his not having had better camera coverage. “I thought I might be facing that bull tomorrow, but we have prisoners awaiting the Sheik’s court next week, to hear what they would forfeit in retribution for their offenses against his laws and decrees. Now it seems the four of them might forfeit everything.”

“Were these violations for what I heard called sharia laws?”

Kadar shook his head. “Centuries ago the violations may have been judged that way in this sheikdom. Under a few of the more devout sheiks, those poorly defined laws are still in effect. Under Sheik Sayed and his recent ancestors, and in many sheikdoms that agree with his family’s evolved positions, the laws here are what the Sheik says they are. After enough time the laws have stabilized, and they change now only gradually.”

He seemed completely untroubled by this excessive punishment for what were probably minor offenses here, and that his comment that change in the laws came gradually was negated by the whim this Sheik had just displayed. The original punishment anticipated appeared to involve amputation, with a specified period of living with the deliberate crippling before the offender earned the “right” to have the lost appendage or limb regrown. Haveram wondered how many “average citizens” around here were living with replacement parts, or had triggered the whim of the Sheik and died in the arena.

Haveram didn’t bother glancing up to the ceiling, because Thad and Sarge had quietly departed when Kadar’s men removed Billy from the ship, and he was then driven to the palace in the back of a truck under heavy guard. The number of guards reflected the boy’s value to the Sheik more than the boy’s perceived risk to him. They definitely had that backwards.

He wasn’t sure where the other eight Kobani were, but it didn’t really matter to him. For the moment Haveram, Saber, and the rippers all appeared to be in the good graces of this despot sheik. Some of those that came with him would have spread out around the small spaceport, waiting for the arrival of VIP guests tomorrow, or like Thad and Sarge, had headed for the palace. They didn’t know how many sheiks were invited, but there were over two dozen known to be on the planet. From what data Haveram had extracted from the captain and first mate of the Delta Dawn, not every sheik here was engaged with human trafficking, at least not as far as kidnaping victims from other worlds. The majority of them engaged in smuggling of some type, much of it illegal drugs, stolen goods, and arms, but not always items consumed on the home planet, where drugs and alcohol consumption was frowned on in general. The sheiks were intermediaries for many trades and activities they didn’t permit on their own world. They used the revenue to pay for the Hub world luxuries they craved, to maintain their expensive lifestyles.

A number of more devout sheikdoms and their sheiks avoided any involvement in off-world activities that they believed violated their version of Islamic faith. Their beliefs and practices clearly violated PU laws regarding women’s rights, but not the tenants of their faith. As it happened, those conservative sheiks were not among those Sayed had invited tomorrow. Sayed’s invitees tended to gravitate towards the shared corrupt and perverse taste of absolute despots everywhere in every time, who earned money illegally that solidified their control and power over Khartoum’s Destiny. The worst of the lot was coming to see what Sayed had to offer, via his new off world resource, Chief Haveram.

The first day was spent moving the animals, and guiding the Master of the Menagerie in their needs, which occupied most of Haveram’s time. He was in touch periodically with Saber, but the Sheik was busy with setting up his rush reception in such a short time. He had some playthings and harem decorations, as he termed them, for sale or trade.

Kadar, in reaction to a question from Haveram, was indignant when he asked if some of the females that were to have been delivered by the Delta Dawn, with the Christoph boy, were intended for a sheik’s harem.

“No! The youngest were playthings for sale or trade, and the oldest, at fourteen or older, could have been concubines to be trained by the most influential harem wives, if they proved suitable and trainable. They were not of the faith, and could never become a member of a harem.”

“I see I have much to learn of what is most valuable to the sheiks. I’m willing to pay you for my education.” He offered Kadar ten percent of his commission on the animals.

The haggling went on for a time, before Haveram agreed to ten percent of what he earned for delivering the boy, which could be a very large sum, and twenty-five percent of what he earned from the animals. He knew he’d been taken advantage of, but since he didn’t intend to pay him anything, it didn’t matter.

Haveram acknowledged his ignorance. “I had thought the youngest girl recovered by the Poldark authorities was to be raised here as a servant, since she was sexually immature. There were two somewhat older girls, and I assumed they were to fulfill a different role in a harem. I tried to purchase all of them through my same government contacts as I did the boy, but I was told they wouldn’t risk that sale for the lower prices they would bring. They needed to have something to turn over to the police anyway, to show what they recovered from the jettisoned escape pod from the Dawn. My contacts knew the boy was the real prize, because they assumed he was being taken for ransom. I paid a lot for him.”

Kadar nodded his approval. “You made the better bargain, to buy the boy instead of the girls. The Sheik wanted that boy very much. If his father retains access to the wealth he inherited, and to what he stole from the Sheik, it will be a great deal of money. All of it in Hub credits.”

“So the girls were not valuable? I assumed I could obtain more like them on many Rim Worlds. They would be much easier to obtain than wealthy brats for ransom.”

“I didn’t mean they were not valuable at all. They are, particularly if young and fair, and virgin. But they did not have the same potential for pleasing my Sheik. He’ll reward you well for the boy, even if a ransom isn’t possible. He was going to sell the girls anyway.

“My Sheik has many fine wives to provide him male heirs, and daughters to marry off for advantage, but his personal taste does not include young girls. He wanted that boy several years ago, when he was even younger. If there is no ransom, the short miserable life of that boy will end very badly. Only a vast sum of money will save him, and even then he will require reconstructive surgery if returned alive.”

“So pre-teen boys would be a better cargo for Sheik Sayed?”

“For my Sheik, sometimes yes, but he makes them last for months, so he doesn’t need many. In truth, he loves money, trading, and coliseum games more than most boys. Young pretty girls for him make for excellent haggling and trading with the sheiks he invited here, to buy their fighters, to view other boys they may have to offer in trade, and for exotic animals, or fine horses or camels.

“The prestige of what you brought him for haggling is what has made him happy and excited. Alien animals may not thrive here, so he wants to sell them quickly. When he’s happy, my life and those that serve him are happy.”

“Then his meeting me, with my contacts on the Rim and beyond, may prove life changing for these sheiks. When will I meet him?”

“Tomorrow, for breakfast. I will fetch you after the protocol instructor and tailor have visited you today and again early tomorrow. You need to rise early. Being late isn’t acceptable. I have other duties now, to prepare for security when our visitors arrive. Several of my men will remain with you. One of them speaks Standard well and he will guide you to your quarters below the floor of the arena.”

Great, he’d get to smell the exotic dung of the animals kept down there, as well as that of those he’d brought. At least he’d be with Kim and Karl, since the Sheik wasn’t trusting enough to have them inside the palace, even if caged.

After Kadar left, he entered the shower stall in his quarters, housing which was considerably larger and nicer than he’d expected. The protocol instructor would be there in an hour, accompanied by the tailor, so he needed to get the day’s stink removed. He firmly pushed one of the men Kadar left behind out of the bathroom. He wasn’t going to be watched that closely, even if his Comtap links were one hundred percent private.

“Bill. How are they treating you? Has Sayed been to see you?”

“Hey Chief. Doing fine. They left me in our own restraints, but let me out of them long enough to shower and put on some flowing pastel colored robes. I’m in a locked and guarded sort of bedroom, with bars on the windows and on this side of the door. Then some girly looking man sprayed me with perfume, even under the damn robe. I wanted to scramble his brains, but Sarge talked me out of it. They took my underwear, boots, and clothes. I have on some damned sandals, and they put our wrist shackles back on me. There are other primitive looking restraints hanging from the walls here. A bizarre form of decoration I guess. Sayed only stepped into the room briefly, never spoke, but looked at me with a strange eager glint in his eyes. I don't know what that was all about.”

The mental image of a tall, medium toned skin man, with a paunchy build in flowing white robes and a headdress was sent to him by Saber. Haveram knew what that glint in the man’s eyes was all about, and what the wall décor was really for, but he didn’t think telling Billy any of that would help the kid’s disposition. The boy sure as hell wouldn’t let the Sheik survive any attempt to take advantage of his presumed helpless prisoner. A Krall might reluctantly decide to eat you, despite your poor taste. They would never try to bugger you.

Thad, from a secure stealthed perch on a high ledge out of anyone’s way, informed them that Sayed was bustling about the palace, shouting orders, bullying his hundred member staff on details of food, guest room preparation, décor, fresh flowers, and a hundred other trivial things.

Haveram shared with the team what he’d learned of Sayed’s liking of boys, his apparent sadism, and that his invited guests were of similar dispositions, but usually preferring young women or small girls. Fortunately, it appeared the Sheik would be too preoccupied today to find time to get his perverted ass killed by provoking Saber. Sayed really wanted the gathering to happen on schedule, and it seemed that most guests were expected to arrive by close to midday tomorrow.

****

Before the sun was above the horizon, the protocol instructor and tailor had returned to Haveram’s quarters, followed soon by the Master of the Menagerie. Haveram stood to be fitted as he was also being instructed, and fielded questions about the animals.

It appeared that none of the Sheik’s men had slept much, because this was an unprecedented rush to display not only the new animals, but to brag that the son of the infidel that had stolen from Sayed was now in his grasp. This was important, to secure his retribution either monetarily, or extracted physically from his enemy’s only son. Image and reputation among the sheiks was a very important matter to them.

“Captain Haveram, I am asked to display each of the animal types you brought, but separately in the arena, for the guests to evaluate and to make bids for them. How can I get the four rhinolo to leave the arena and enter one of the side passageways? You told me that the blue antelopes and rhinolo would mingle safely so that may not be a problem for them. Except, I cannot place the whiteraptor or the rippers in the arena with them, or each with any other animal. It would be pandemonium, and some animals might be lost before they can be sold.”

“I can help with that, and it will display how valuable, intelligent, and tame the rippers are, when they see how they obey my commands. After the rhinolo are seen, I can send the rippers into the arena and order them to chase the rhinolo into whichever passageway you wish. I suggest you have those steel doors pined securely today.

“After that, the rippers will leave the arena while you let the blue flash antelopes enter from a different passageway and door. When those four animals have been seen, the rippers will herd them back into the same passageway they came from to be locked inside, and then the rippers will vacate the arena again. The whiteraptor can come in last, completing the presentation, since the rippers will have already been seen in action.”

“How will only the two rippers chase that big raptor back into its cage afterwards? It must be thirty feet long, and it weighs at least three times as much as that large male ripper. It isn’t intimidated by anything,”

“That’s why I only brought that single juvenile male raptor, barely a year old. He’s easier to manipulate than an adult dominate female member of that species. Trust me. I can get it out of the arena.”

Keeping it inside the arena would be the real problem, thought Haveram. This planet had only ninety one percent of Earth standard gravity, or point six one g’s less than what that raptor normally lived under on Koban.

The protocol instructor resumed his history and cultural lecture after the animal master left. “The Planetary Union society is offensive to our people, and you must avoid discussing or agreeing with women appearing in that government. We are told things are changing since the war pushed males into positions of authority again, but even having women participate in government is intolerable to our people.” By the term “our people,” he of course meant males. He condescended to explain the evidence proving women’s offenses against men.

“We have the judgement of one of our great teachers here on Khartoum’s Destiny, before he died at the end of the Gene War and just before the Collapse of Man. It came from our great Imam El Erian. He told us that Shaytan had used infidel women scientist to create the disease that killed only men, and through the work of their cloned jinni that looked like men, spread the infection to every corner of space where men dwelled. It is a fact that only men died, that clones and women could spread the disease, and women then took power as most men died.”

He offered sage advice. “If you wish to have a smugglers career longer than a week, serving the needs of our sheiks, you should take my advice and speak not of the government of the infidels.”

“I have listened and I will remember.” Haveram promised.

“I hope you do. Because restricted news from the Hub worlds has reached here recently, and animals like your rippers were seen in a Tri-Vid report of a conflict with a Krall on Earth, and described a disagreement with that mistress of Shaytan, Erthrid Medford the false PU leader. Two tiger-like animals were shown in that video, said to come from a world called Koban, which is beyond the Rim of Human Space, and they were the same color with the same species name as those you brought with you.”

Haveram nodded, “Damn, I had hoped to keep my source for these animals secret for several more trips, but yes, all of my exotic animals came from Koban. I have contacts there, after some of them visited Poldark. You may have observed in the video that the Kobani are not on good terms with the PU government. The Kobani want Hub credits to buy what they need for their isolated world, and I can make good deals with them for Hub credits.”

Haveram knew this information would be fed directly to Sayed, of course, who surely had already made the connection. Sayed was an evil man, not a stupid one. The confrontation between Kobani and Medford on Earth would make it seem more plausible that such rebels would seek ways to make money that bypassed PU laws. Smugglers and criminals, as Haveram presented himself, thrived by finding disaffected people willing to deal with them outside of the law.

The tailor, using his digital measurements, had fed the data to his computer in the palace, and assured Haveram that the formal suit he was now verifying the fit, would be perfectly fabricated and ready for the reception at midday. The less formal new clothing, just fitted for him, would serve well for his breakfast meeting with the Sheik, and would be finished in an hour.

The tailor and the protocol instructor departed together, leaving Haveram time to Comtap with the other ten Kobani, the two rippers, and Saber. He was certain he was being observed, so tachyon modulated Comtap use ensured no electromagnetic transmission would be detected. Even if encrypted, such a signal’s existence would spark suspicion with a probable fatal outcome offered by the Sheik to the person so engaged.

Thad had been in communication with the four other ships, which had originally arrived hidden behind an ice giant planet to conceal their White Out energy bursts. They had T-cubed drives, but the Federation scientists, human or alien, had not yet solved the problem of how the Olt’kitapi ships smothered their own gamma ray signatures. With stealth active, the four ships had moved to orbits spaced around Khartoum’s Destiny, keeping the palaces of at least twenty or more sheikdoms under passive surveillance.

Thad gave him an update. “Chief, it looks as if each sheik has control of an armed cutter with a ten man crew, and some of the wealthier sheiks seem to have two of them, usually parked at their palace landing pads. There are about two hundred heavy plasma cannon batteries, sprinkled around the planet, and they seem to be automated, but have watch standers housed near them if something breaks or manual control is required. They obviously don’t see our ships, so we could safely knock them all out if needed.”

“I wonder how the sheiks plan to arrive here, in a cutter or a luxury ship like Sayed owns? The cutter that escorted me down I think is his and it is still parked on the pad. You know the Falcon isn’t armed with missiles, and a cutter should mount at least two launchers, and certainly lasers and plasma cannons. I don't want to try to fight to get away from here if things go sour. If more cutters are coming, we might need a ride to get us all out of here.”

“Ethan and Carson are on my ship, the Ripper, and are maintaining a position two hundred miles overhead of Sayed’s palace. They can take out any of the cutters that show up here, the nearest plasma batteries, and then come down to get us if need be.”

“They don’t have pens for the animals.”

“You’re kidding. Chief, I don't think Tet put any thought into bringing them back. The rhinolo and blue streaks are a loss of meat for Koban larders, but I suspect they’ll be eaten here too after we leave. I don't know about whiteraptors. We don't hunt them for food, but I’ll bet some that have been killed were eaten back home. I don't think Islamic dietary law applies to these animals, so they wouldn’t necessarily go to waste.”

“Yea, I guess. I don’t like how the sheiks intended to use them for sport, by pitting them against each other or other animals, or against men in the arena. Perhaps they’d let strange new predators hunt our animals while they watched for entertainment.”

“Chief, these are prey animals on Koban, to us, rippers, whiteraptors, and to other predators. It ain’t like they live a life free of peril you know. Besides, what non-Koban predator, or a human hunter for that matter, would have an easy time facing a rhinolo? Even a blue streak can be deadly. They’re faster and stronger than anything they’ll face here, except for a well-placed high caliber bullet.”

“Fine. I’ll leave them to their fates. I just hope they get some retribution from these damn sheiks if we can’t take them all down ourselves.”

A servant arrived soon with new casual wear Hub world garb, an expensive Smart Fabric light grey pull-on that the automated tailoring system had just produced, stylish and in his exact size, with an accent belt having small pouches. The sheiks might not admire Hub society, but they didn’t reject everything from there. Haveram had half thought he might be wearing a robe to breakfast and lunch, as he’d seen Sayed wearing in Bill’s image of the night before. He wondered where he’d put his usual pocket items in a flowing robe, and if he’d be expected to wear underpants. The protocol instructor hadn’t covered those subjects, and Haveram hadn’t thought to ask.

Kadar arrived a few minutes after his fresh clothes arrived, waited for him to dress and escorted him to a side entrance to the palace, passing below a wide veranda several stories above. As it happened, it was where he was having breakfast with Sayed.

The Sheik was seated, but rose and extended his right hand as he approached him, relieving Haveram from wondering which sort of greeting was expected. He shook the offered, but slightly limp hand, as he said “As-salam alaikum,” bowing his head slightly.

The tall but pudgy looking Sheik raised his eyebrows in slight surprise, and replied, “Wa alaikum as-salam” also nodding minutely.

In Standard, he said, “Sit and eat with me,” and gestured to a chair on the other side of the table, which a male servant pulled out for Haveram.

“Do you speak any other Arabic?” he was asked. “That was spoken with no accent.” The Sheik had a very noticeable accent, demonstrating that Standard wasn’t his customary language.

“Very little Sir. A few expressions only. I heard this from some of your people.”

“It was good of you to try. If you will look to the side table, there are a few food selections, which you may wish to consider. There is genuine Chinese tea, Earth Columbian coffee, and several fruit juices to drink. Please point them out to Calmar, since he does not speak Standard.”

The “side” table was double the size of the one at which they sat, and had well more than just a few selections. Haveram had noticed that Kadar was not invited to sit, and he had moved away to stand near the railing of the veranda, facing them, his submachine gun slung to his right side, as always.

Haveram had glanced at the Sheik’s plate as he shook hands, and requested two fruits he recognized there, and had not eaten in many years. To the servant he indicated a pineapple slice and a small bowl of figs, with a glass of what he thought was orange juice, but proved to be guava juice. He had a serving of scrambled eggs served from what he had thought was a rounded beige bowl set in a wooden holding frame. This proved to be a half eggshell from an ostrich, as Sayed told him with approval, as if Haveram had known and deliberately made the exotic choice.

They ate and held small talk of Rim worlds Haveram and the Sheik had visited, of the surprising sudden end to the war with the Krall, and of how free market trade would be improving now. Haveram took that to mean smuggling would be on the increase now that the PU navy was drawing back to the globe of Hub worlds.

With no preamble, Sayed asked him, “What do the Kobani look like? Can you tell them from other people?”

“Sir, they look exactly like a cross section of people from colony worlds all over Human Space. That’s where the older ones originated, captured at random on spacecraft by the Krall before the start of the war, and their children reflect the same diversity. The genetic changes they have are all internal, because I can see no differences or strangeness in those I met on Poldark. They have had people there helping to fight the Krall, while hiding their existence from the Planetary Union.

“I might add that I didn’t go to Koban to get my cargo of animals this time. Although I expect to go there in the future. They were delivered to me in the outer Poldark system, and the Kobani handled the transfer to the Falcon, using micro gravity control and docking tubes. It was while I was still in the Poldark system that I learned about the capture of the Delta Dawn from customs officials I had bribed, and about its connection to Khartoum’s Destiny. I knew about the business the Falcon’s previous owners and captain had done here, at least in general if not specifics. They didn’t offer to introduce me to anyone here, so I plied my trade elsewhere.

“When I inquired of the customs officials about what the Dawn was doing when captured, I learned of a customs cutter that had rescued some kidnaped kids, and that the captain had not mentioned a particular boy to the Poldark police. The officials believed he would be very valuable to them if they could get him delivered here, but they didn’t know how to do that. That’s where I found my business opportunity. I will owe them ten percent of whatever fee you deem worth paying me for the Christoph boy’s delivery. To me the real value of that kid was the opportunity to establish a business relationship here, and aside from that kid, the animals were another perfect sales opportunity for me.”

“I see you are a person who grabs an opportunity when it appears, and you have a good business sense. The boy is very valuable to me personally, perhaps valuable in money if his father has managed to hold onto his fortune, and still loves this boy as he once appeared to. If not, the boy will become my method of vengeance against his father, a source of particular pleasure for myself, and when I am done with him he will serve as a warning to others on Poldark to never try to cheat me again. I have a long reach and great patience.”

“I respect that Sir. I too hope his father has retained his family fortune for the ransom, and my Customs contacts think the father owes you a great deal of laundered money. They had accepted bribes from the elder Christoph in the past, but he failed to deliver on promises of more, and that’s why he did not get his son back this time. I would hope to increase my fee for his delivery to you if he proves as valuable as you think.”

“If I’m paid what I’m owed you will be well compensated. Even if not, I will be generous for this opportunity. His father’s action with my investments on Poldark has been a sore point with me among my peers here. With the animals you have brought, assuming you can obtain more and in a greater variety, you and I have a basis for a continuing business relationship. You told my man over there that you can find young talent for me on Rim Worlds, and possibly on New Colonies, where the education and quality could be better for the tastes of the sheiks I could supply.”

By talent, Haveram assumed Sayed meant attractive children from a better-educated, more sophisticated class of families than typically was found on rough settlement Rim Worlds. He was a truly discerning form of a sadistic child trafficking pervert. One that was deserving of all that the Kobani would be delivering.

Sayed then discussed how the afternoon’s presentation would go, how Haveram had arranged for exchanging the animals out in the arena, using the rippers. That he found fascinating, that those deadly looking cats could be used in such a controlled manner. The Sheik discussed the interval he expected would be needed after the rhinolo were penned in the side passage, before the antelope were allowed inside. A crew would have to remove the remains of the four people that would experience the “justice” meted out by the Sheik’s court today, delivered by rhinolo horns. There needed to be parts collected, blood raked over and fresh brown soil spread to cover the discolorations before the blue streaks were released into the arena. This necessity was discussed in a dispassionate fashion, something obviously quite familiar to the Sheik.

Sayed asked, “Should I save one of the intended rhinolo demonstration subjects for the antelopes to kill?”

The euphemistic term “demonstration subject” solidified Haveram’s resolve to “adjust” Sayed’s perception of the value of human life personally. However, his practical reply revealed none of that.

“No Sir. The blue streaks can be quite deadly, but with just a few of them in such a large area, they’re more likely to back away from a human unless approached or cornered. The subject you mentioned I presume wouldn’t deliberately go anywhere near them. If there were a larger herd of the animals, with fawns to protect, some of them would certainly attack anyone in the arena with them as a possible threat.”

Sayed didn’t appear ready to question how a man that implied he’d not been to Koban could know so much about the behavior of its wild animals. Haveram had a question about where his guests would be sitting in the coliseum.

“There is a great deal of seating around that oval arena near the bottom levels, and I can have the rippers jump down into the arena from there if there is a section without people present. Will the stadium seating be crowded with people besides your invited guests? That will determine how I will use and direct the rippers to chase the rhinolo and antelope to clear the arena after each is shown. I’d like a section left open on the far side from your pavilion, where you can see me work with the rippers. If anyone were sitting over there I couldn’t do that.”

Sayed waved a hand dismissively. “Not to worry. All of my invited guests will be with me under my shaded pavilion, where food and refreshments will be served by my servants. No one else will be present today besides my animal handlers, arena cleanup crews, and security details of course. Kadar and his security men will be present with me, and each guest will have two of their own security men with them. There will be no one on the far side from us, so you are free to work from over there.”

“Excellent, I think you and your guests will have an experience you did not expect.” He smiled broadly.

Just then, there was the distant thunder of thrusters, as a descending and gleaming white and gold space yacht dropped down towards the landing pad, five miles distant.

Sayed sighed. “As usual, Sheik Qasimi is first to arrive, determined to try and make a deal before his rivals arrive. It must work for him sometimes, because he is always early. Now I have to entertain the old fool for additional hours, while I refuse to reveal what I have to sell. I apologize, and must ask you to return to your quarters and the animals until my guests and I gather at my pavilion. Kadar will not accompany you now, but one of his men will escort you. I will see you next at the arena.”

They both stood, another limp handshake, and a guard that Haveram had seen on the Falcon met him as he left the veranda.

Haveram visited Kim and Karl, and via frilling, outlined the fake show he had planned. Of course, Kim wanted to change things. “Just two of us cannot kill a bull rhinolo, why not let the blue streaks go first, and Karl and I can demonstrate our hunting technique and bring down that big buck.”

“Are you advocating wasting the meat of a kill?”

“No! We would feed on the meat after frilling its death thoughts.” She was shocked he would suggest she would waste a kill.

“There’ll be no time for that. We may be involved in a fight before you could eat anything. Besides, the agenda is set, and the rhinolo are already inside the arena. The Sheik plans to put four people into the arena with the rhinolo, to watch them be killed. These are bad humans, and you want to entertain them first with your hunt, to kill for fun? What sort of domestic ripper have you become, anyway?” He was grinning as he thought that at her.

She was sullen in her answer. “I wasn’t serious. I only tried to tease you, as humans do. You turned it back on me, I think.”

“Nice try pussy cat. But don’t tease a race of teasers, we can smell it coming.”

“Ha. Tell that to your shoes tomorrow, Chief super nose.”

Uh oh. Rippers had a sense of humor that might involve peeing in his shoes, or leaving a small dead animal’s bones in his bunk. He’d have to sleep fully dressed and in another bed for a few nights.

Then, Haveram linked to the entire planet-side complement, as they discussed possibilities and actions today, and then added links with the four ships in orbit, as to what was being observed at multiple palaces, where yachts, but not their cutters were seen undergoing preflight activities.

After hearing the reports, Haveram said, “It looks like nineteen of twenty-two sheiks may be coming. That reinforces my impression that a few of the sheiks don’t engage in the death games and child sex trade. They also have the smaller palaces, without a coliseum type structure nearby. The more decent and moral men may end up being the top dogs after today.”

Thad wasn’t so sure. “Their titles and sheikdoms are inherited, and you can be sure the oldest or most favored male heirs have been raised in this atmosphere of cruelty and decadence. Today’s action might shift the balance some, but it isn’t a long time cure for this planet.”

“I don’t think so either,” Haveram said, “and I’m sure we don’t want to try to impose Hub society on these people, so long as they refrain from kidnapping children for ransom, stop engaging in the forced sex trade, stop smuggling dangerous drugs and weapons to other worlds, and end the killing of people here for entertainment. I think we’ll be back here from time to time, to police their activities.”

“Who’s gonna pay us to be the police?” Sarge wanted to know. “Federation credits basically will come out of our tax budget, and we have an emerging government, a large number of new worlds with a great many expenses of our own. The PU has obviously never done anything about controlling any of the Rim Worlds, so long as they didn’t attack a Hub world or a member colony. Can we afford charity work?”

“I don’t see a problem with leaving these corrupt murderous bastards with a lot less cash when we leave here,” Thad offered.

Haveram agreed. “They surely have palace vaults here that we can empty, and they must have it in banks or invested in illegal businesses on other Rim Worlds, as Sayed did on Poldark. I think, for a reward share, we should inform authorities on Rim Worlds of the sheiks dirty money and investments, after we pick their brains here. If those authorities are part of the corruption, a Mind Tap will expose them too. Tet revealed our mental ability last month on Earth, so for a short time we can use it to expose the crooks, at least until they get better at hiding their thoughts. Even then, we can probably get their flunkies to talk.”

Sarge, who had brought the subject up, had another thought. “Ah…, I don’t want to sound like a spoil sport, but if we don’t have some sort of accounting for what we take, we’re all going to look like pirates ourselves.”

Haveram agreed. “You have a point. We’ll ask Stewart and our alien allies to think of a way to do this sort of thing in an official, public, and accountable manner, with a method to manage and report confiscated property, like what we’ll be taking from these sheiks. Aside from compensating us for our work in cleaning up a mess like this, much of the money should be used to benefit those that were robbed or harmed by the sheiks, or simply are in dire need.”

Sarge proved he was onboard with the idea, although a bit hazy on pre spaceflight historical myths. “Great, I always wanted to be a Robbing Hood.”

****

Karl was concerned. “You will not let the bad men put people in with the rhinolo will you?”

“No. Except, we don’t know when that was planned. The sheiks have been looking at the rhinolo, having lunch as they talk about prices and trades, and they want to know what these animals will do, how they will act when confronted by men. They know you two are supposed to come in and herd them out of the arena after they turn those four people into mush, and they really want to see that.

“The rhinolo are nervous now, but the bull is prepared to protect his small herd, and he has repeatedly charged towards the wall, just ten feet below the men looking down, laughing and making mocking calls at him. He’s in a frothy frenzy to get to them, and reared up on his hind legs several times to place his front legs on the wall, his horn tip only five feet below them.”

Karl and Kim were waiting with Haveram in a pedestrian passage under the seating area, staying back out of sight of the gathering of sheiks and their security men, at the large covered pavilion on the opposite side of the arena. When Haveram had let the cats out of their enclosure, his three armed watchers had vanished behind a steel door with a window, where they nervously watched him and the rippers play and tussle together, before moving up towards the arena level and the pedestrian passageways near the lowest viewing area.

Thad and Sarge were in place, still stealthed of course, positioned near the heavy steel doors at the two passageways, at opposite ends of the oval arena that were farthest apart. One of them would ensure a door was opened to accept the rhinolo if that was needed in a hurry, and the other door concealed the blue streaks, out of their pen and ready to enter the arena. The Manager of the Menagerie was present near the door for the blue streaks, feeling falsely that they were of little threat and merely a decorative species. He had sent two men to the other end, to operate the motors that would open that door, believing the rippers would be chasing the rhinolo there, doubling the risk at that end.

None of the Kobani knew where the four sacrificial prisoners were being kept, or if they were even in the coliseum at all. Five Kobani were at the landing pad, prepared on signal to make certain that none of the yachts could lift, and that Sayed’s cutter stayed grounded. The other three Kobani were sitting on the roof of the pavilion, waiting for things to start. There were two late arriving sheiks in limousines still on the way from the landing pad, but they would reach the arena shortly. Their arrival, in an estimated ten minutes, was what Haveram and company were waiting for, to have all of the rats present. That was when Sheik Sayed’s impromptu court judgement caught them off guard, and initiated the conquest of Khartoum’s Destiny.

Chapter 11: Retribution and Judgement

Shandra Stillwell, one of the Kobani sitting on top of the pavilion’s roof suddenly linked in on the group circuit. “Crap! Chief, eight of Sayed’s security men suddenly grabbed four of the servants that were on table clean up duty, and lowered them into the damned arena, kicking and screaming. The rhinolo are at the other end but they sure as hell know they’re there.”

“Servants? We assumed he would use the four prisoners awaiting his judgement. Wait, I’ll bet he brought them here and used them as table cleaners, just to keep them off guard. We’re on our way out. Cover the rippers from the security men after they go into the arena. Thad, be ready to open the door for the rhinolo, but I don't think with people out on the arena floor to attract them, that we can herd them where we want. The cats may only be able to divert them for a time.”

He and the two cats had started moving from their place of concealment as soon as the mental image had reached them. Pairs of guards, standing by the arena railing, had suddenly grasped each of the four victims, who were cleaning up and returning empty plates and glasses to a table near the same rail. They were bodily lifted over the side and swiftly lowered, struggling and yelling, hanging by their arms and hands, fingers smashed with a rifle butt when they grasped the railing bars.

The guards released them, to fall the remainder of the twelve or thirteen feet to the red soil of the arena floor. This was a week before the Sheik’s appointed court day, and they had hoped that by rendering dedicated service today, they might mitigate the severity of their upcoming judgments. There were three men and a woman, and they crumpled to their hands and knees or rolled to their sides as they landed. They had seen the bull rhinolo stamping around below them earlier, of course, and now they understood exactly what the Sheik’s judgment for their offenses would be. Death.

It was going to be gruesome deaths for the benefit of the guests, to drive the bids up for the purchase of the massive exotic animals now on display. The four condemned people frantically tried to find purchase for fingers and toes or sandals in the small cracks between the heavy granite blocks that formed the thick walls around the arena. They hoped to climb high enough to get above the beasts, the largest of which stood nine feet high at his massive front shoulders. As would be expected, the arena had been specifically designed to contain its victims, with the blocks fitted too closely together for a climbing escape. Blocks were rough unpolished granite on the front, so that a suction cup device couldn’t adhere. Something that condemned people had tried to use long ago, when the entertainment festivals first began. The early sheiks had adapted.

There was no escape for them that way, so they ran towards the nearest steel door, below and adjacent to the pavilion. The four of them might be able to push it on its roller track.

The huge teal colored bull started digging at the soil with his front feet, assessing the small predators it now found down at his level. It was checking them for the presence of the stinging sticks that creatures like this often carried, when they hunted the great herds on the savannas of Koban. There were such sticks with the similar predators at the top of the gray cliff that surrounded them, but these figures did not carry them. Even the immature male calf could kill these slow and weak pack-hunting animals if they didn’t have stinging sticks. Not that the bull intended to yield his own pleasure by giving the young male his first kill in defense of the herd. The youngster would have to learn how to kill foe of the herd by observing the mature bull’s vengeance. He started his charge.

As Haveram and the two cats exited the lowest level pedestrian tunnel and came within view of the arena floor, the bellowing bull, followed by his diminished herd, were in full charge. He was halfway to his four intended targets, who were futilely trying to force the multi ton door open enough to slip through a gap, or to use the inside lip and one-inch gap from the wall to find a grip and perhaps pull themselves above the reach of the charging animals. No one wanted to be last, so there wasn’t any cooperative effort. The woman, realizing she couldn’t outfight the men, turned to run to the identical door on the opposite side of the arena, two hundred feet away.

She was looking to her right, at the big, three-horned animal that seemed to be moving far too fast for its mass, and saw it was still going towards the three men fighting at the door she’d abandoned. The sheiks had stood and moved closer to the railing for a better view, and they were amused by her hopeless run across the wide expanse of dirt. One of the teal colored cows, the mother of the calf, had split from behind the bull’s path when she saw the other potential threat to her offspring, in isolation and fleeing.

The woman, adrenaline fueling her legs, focused on the door on the other side she needed to reach. It appeared impossible she could find a way to escape even if she reached her goal, but she wasn’t giving up yet. The unexpected collapse of her desperate plan came when a cheap, loose fitting sandal tip, scooped lose dirt and caused her to trip and fall head first, arms extended in a skid on the arena’s dirt.

Suddenly, two terrifying blue apparitions, emitting deafening roars that reverberated from the granite walls, sailed gracefully over the far side’s arena railing and hit the dirt running, coming directly at her. She knew the gleaming white fangs in their gaping jaws spelled her doom, and she screamed. She instinctively curled into a fetal position, arms covering her head, waiting for the tearing fangs and claws to rip her apart.

When she next heard roars from them, they sounded from behind her and she risked a peek through tangled hair and fingers in that direction. The two predators were intercepting the largest rhinolo, as it was closing on the three men she had left struggling at the large door.

Two of those men, recognizing they were out of time to slide open that door even if it were possible, had started running along the wall in what would surely have been a futile attempt to reach the next door at the far end of the arena.

The animal she had heard the sheiks call a rhinolo, was oddly nearly the same shade of blue-green as the two tiger-like creatures that had gone past her for some reason. They were snarling and roaring at that juggernaut mountain of flesh, and it had pulled up its charge to wheel in their direction.

The cats promptly swerved towards the bull’s back trail, in the direction of the herd members he would instinctively protect. He looked from side to side quickly, expecting more of the rippers to appear from some other direction, as his experience and instincts led him to anticipate. Two of them wouldn’t take on four rhinolo this way unless they expected a flanking attack from the rest of their pride, ready to tear at the legs to cripple one of the weaker or smaller herd members.

The oldest cow and the young male were four or five lengths behind him, but the calf’s mother was veering towards where one of the four original small predators had ran and apparently fallen. He saw she could easily overpower that small single opponent, so he turned about in a spin that looked too agile for his bulk, staying with the two rippers that were clearly the greater threat.

The fallen woman was initially hesitant to resume her run to the other side of the arena, fearing she might attract the predators again, or that the largest rhinolo, which had halted its charge and was facing her way, would see her motion and come after her. The thudding of hooves from another direction changed her mind. Another rhinolo had split from the rest, and it clearly was headed for her. She was exposed, and only a wrecked shackling post, twenty feet away, offered her any semblance of shelter, eight or nine feet of heavy timber, which these big animals could easily toss aside. She’d never make it to the heavy door ahead of the beast, and she had no hope of getting it to open if she did. Hopeless or not, she leaped up, kicked off her sandals, and ran towards the timber, which was closest.

She kept looking back at her pursuer, and was startled by a man’s voice close by.

“Run past the broken post, I’ll distract it. Go all the way to the wall.”

“Huh...?” Was all she said, when a man passed her going the other way, running directly at the rhinolo.

She didn’t know where this maniac came from, or understand all that he said, since he’d spoken Standard and she had relatively little practice speaking that language. But, the very first word was “Run” and that she understood, because she was going to do that anyway. She slapped her bare left foot on the rhinolo-shattered timber as she leaped over, its chains and shackles laying spread on the soil. Akilah decided that if this brave fool was ready to die to help her, she owed it to him to run as fast as she could in exchange for his sacrifice.

With a hundred feet of open dirt ahead of her now, she looked back to see if the beast had slowed to attack the stranger. She watched in amazement as he leaped towards the animal and twisted as he left the ground, reaching out with his right hand towards the long central horn, suddenly thrust up and to the side at him. Remarkably, he grasped the horn a foot from its tip, used it to alter his trajectory to pivot around it slightly, and used the up-thrust of that massive head to gain height, pushing off the side of the animal’s face with his left hand.

He performed a twisting summersault over the snorting animal’s head, and landed on his feet on the bulging hump over the front muscular shoulders, facing the rear downward slope of the animal’s smooth back. He slid down the teal colored thick armored skin, and lightly jumped off her rear quarters, as the beast actually ran out from under him.

Akilah, now alone in front of the monster, feared it would continue after her now, following the man’s miraculous avoidance of that vicious looking horn. It had already lowered its rear haunches, front legs pushing up and back to stop its charge, hooves kicking up showers of red soil from front and rear feet. The rhinolo was now determined to turn and attack the audacious little predator that had dared to challenge her.

She spun to her right, the same side the man had swung around while holding onto her horn, in plain view of her right eye. He, on landing nearly at rest in the arena behind her, had immediately started to sprint towards the rhinolo’s left side before she even started her turn, as if he’d known which way she would spin. In fact, he had better than a guess to guide him in that, since Haveram had put the idea into the beast’s mind while he was in contact with her, touching her with his left hand on the side of the face in passing, with an image of him running away to her right.

She spun to face where she expected him to be running, and then took a number of lumbering steps back along her previous path, seeking the creature she had felt leap off her rear end. She looked all along her back trail, and then her head quickly snapped around towards the sounds of roars, which she had ignored earlier in her single-minded focus on a possible threat to her calf. There were two rippers, nipping at the heels of the bull, and it was pivoting to face them. Her calf and the older female had pulled up, fearful of the rippers, but unwilling to run away from the protection the bull offered.

The older cow had also anticipated that additional rippers might appear, had she had intervened with her shoulder to prevent the inexperienced young male from putting its head down, and recklessly charging at the two smart and deadly predators. If they tore at his weakest points, his lower legs, he might be crippled and fall prey to these agile and fast moving killers.

The mother, seeing her offspring had two adult protectors near him, a wall blocking an attack from one side, and only two rippers present, decided she should resume her attack on the two smaller predators out here in the open. She whirled around in place, and promptly caught sight of the one that had jumped on her back. It was running quickly towards her initial target.

Good! Instead of spreading out, they were concentrating where she could pursue both of them together, then she would select whichever one made the first mistake, or stumbled again.

She pushed off with her powerful rear legs, again surprised at how light and powerful she felt in this strange place, and cleared the ground by nearly three feet as she restarted her charge. The small predator that had dared touch her was amazingly fast. It was easily overtaking the other one, which had a respectable lead. She wasn’t sure she could catch the fast one before it reached the wall, but she knew she could reach the slower one before then. Besides, where could they go, hemmed in by these gray cliffs in this odd canyon?

Looking back over her shoulder, Akilah was surprised to see the stranger was still alive, and overtaking her at what seemed an impossible speed. He was covering ground in huge bounds. That wasn’t a reassuring thought, because she saw the rhinolo had started a bellowing, thundering stampede, coming her way again. It would reach her before she got to the door, where she had pinned her hopes on finding a grip at its edge to use for climbing higher than the animal could reach.

She put on a bit more speed, saving no energy reserves for when she reached the door and would have to try to climb. The principle was basic. She didn’t have to be faster than the man, just far enough ahead that the rhinolo would reach him first. As it happened, beating him in that race had never been a viable option.

When he reached her side, he unexpectedly slipped his right arm around her waist and lifted her with a jerk as he pulled her to his side, nearly draped over his right shoulder, and continued his run for the wall. She noticed he didn’t continue with her angled path along a longer track to reach the door, but was moving directly at the wall. That shortened their distance to the wall and increased the distance the rhinolo had to run to catch them, but they damn well couldn’t climb that flat rock face. He was going to get them both killed. She wanted down.

“Stop kicking. I’m trying to save you. You’re dead if I set you down.”

She understood him well enough to stop squirming, surprised at how calm he sounded, not even breathing heavy, despite all of his strenuous activity in the last few minutes. Besides, his grip on her hadn’t yielded a millimeter when she pushed with all her might. She was going with him, no matter what their fate was to be.

As he neared the wall, he repositioned her and shifted his grip to place his left hand and forearm under both her thighs, and she thought he was about to cradle her in his arms in what would seem a less efficient means of carrying her at a full run.

Being carried, she had been free to look back, and realized they were about to die anyway, because the rhinolo was barely twenty feet from them, horn lowered, and because they were slowing slightly, it was about to catch them. She closed her eyes, grateful nevertheless for the stranger’s attempt to help her. She seldom had received any beneficial or altruistic male attention that didn’t come from her father, or a brother who had died in this very arena last year.

“You’re welcome,” she thought she heard, but it hadn’t arrived via her ears. The next words also appeared directly in her mind.

“When you reach the top of my throw, grab the railing and climb over. Then lay flat behind that one-foot support wall below the railing. There may be bullets coming this way.” Amazingly, she saw images of what he meant, and with that clarification, the half-understood words in Standard were redundant. Only what did he mean by throw? She immediately found out.

The right arm around her waist suddenly released, as the left arm lifted rapidly under her thighs, and she knew she’d never reach the top of the wall with that push. That was when the real thruster was applied, abruptly and somewhat painfully to her shapely posterior, and the man shoved her up with a splay-fingered right hand planted on her butt. He then jumped powerfully and added his leg muscles to increase the upward motion, the front tip of his left foot planted on the wall to divert some of the forward momentum into more lift. She sailed clear of him and grasped at the top of the rail as she actually overshot the target slightly. She was slung around the rail by her momentum, and thudded on her shoulder onto the walkway, banging her head as she did.

She heard a bellow of rage and pain from the rhinolo below, and felt the thud and heavy vibration as tons of meat hit the wall, moving at least forty miles per hour. Despite the warning to keep her head below the foot high wall, where the three-foot metal railing was mounted, she looked over the side, her vision a bit blurred by the head blow.

She didn’t believe what she saw. Her benefactor was sitting astride the hump of the rhinolo, which appeared to have stunned itself with the impact against the wall. Almost three inches of the tip of its horn had broken off.

Haveram looked up. “I wish I had a saddle and reins. I hear these can be a wild ride.” With that, he got to his feet and used the eight foot height advantage of the cow to jump easily over the railing, where he grasped her shoulders as he pulled her down flat.

“I told you to keep your head down. Sayed’s security might start shooting, now that the show is mostly over. I’m sure they were willing to wait and see us both get killed, but we made it out of the arena alive.”

“They kill us now, even if run,” she replied in a fatalistic tone. Her Standard was broken and heavily accented, but he would have understood her, even if he didn’t have the advantage of a hand on hers for the Mind Tap.

“Nope, they’re not going to be able to chase you, but stray bullets could ruin your day before we disarm them.”

He linked to the team to get information. “Shandra, what did the sheiks do when the rippers and I jumped into the arena?”

“Most of them applauded, thinking it was part of the presentation. Sayed called Kadar over to speak privately. I could only hear part of what was said, but I think he’s ordered you killed. Even wolfbat hearing has its limitations when cats are roaring and rhinolo are bellowing. That was a neat demonstration you put on, so I might put in a bid for your ass myself.”

“I’m not for sale, but I’m available for rent so I hope you brought plenty of extra credits.”

“Right. I see you snuggling down with that dark haired beauty you rescued. If she has any money I think we’ll have a bidding war.”

“What’s happening with the three men in the arena?”

“One managed to climb up ten feet, using a grip on the edge of the door and his bare feet on the wall, but a security guard pointed a submachine gun his way and he let go and dropped back down. I watched the guard’s finger and if it had gone inside the trigger guard, he’d be a dead man now. The man that fell back into the arena is running to the other two men, over by Sarge and the door for the blue streaks.”

“Has anyone made a threatening move towards Kim or Karl?”

“No, they’re stealing the show right now, keeping the other three rhinolo dancing around and away from the three men. The sheiks, except for Sayed, love this. Do you want the rhinolo herded to the end to let in the blue streaks? Both Juan and Sven are down in the front, by the pavilion’s arena rail now, facing the security guards and sheiks. If the guards get orders to shoot, they’ll be dead meat.”

Haveram had been given authority for this operation, so he altered their rather loose original plan. “Thad, I want to keep the rhinolo inside the arena now, so you can vacate that door and go to the pavilion. Sarge, if you can protect the men over by your door from the blue streaks, how about opening that door to let the antelopes out, and let those men in, then you go to the pavilion. Once the herd animals are in the arena, we’re going to take out security, and give the sheiks an expensive education.”

Switching to full link for the entire force, he started the next phase of the conquest of Khartoum’s Destiny. “Take out all of the cutters, disabled if possible, destroyed if not, but we don’t want them launched. Then destroy all of the heavy plasma batteries. You people at Sayed’s landing pad, clean out crews on all those ships, but we want the yachts usable later.”

Haveram heard the rumbling of the door where the blue streaks were contained, and promptly heard screams and yells from the three men that hadn’t known what was behind that door.

Sarge reassured Haveram that all was well. “The antelope have been huddled at the other end of the passage, ever since they heard the rippers roaring. The sight of more teal colored animals scared the hell out of those three men when they ran through the door, but they’re more afraid of the rippers and rhinolo than what they think are deer. The Menagerie Master is wringing his hands, certain that his Sheik will feed him to the rippers after today. They all can get out through the personnel doors at the middle. I’m headed for the pavilion.”

He called out over the arena in Standard, “Kim, Karl, you can quit harassing the rhinolo, and in just a minute you get to show the sheiks just how useless their arena walls were.”

He switched to local mode on his Comtap. “Shandra, Juan, Sven, use microwaves and infrared to force the guards to drop their hot weapons. Sarge, Thad, and I, will join you in a moment. I’ll be last, since I’m not in armor. Let me know when I can stick my head up without getting shot.”

There were some howls as guards suddenly found their rifles and submachine guns too hot to hold, and pistols when drawn were the same. Haveram heard a couple of shots fired and a scream and he asked quickly. “Who’s shooting?”

Sven answered, sounding sheepish. “Ah…, that was my fault Sir. I had too high a power setting on infrared, and set off some ammunition in a pistol.”

“Don’t Sir me, just call me Chief.” It was his usual response to being addressed as Sir. “Anyone hurt?”

“A sheik with a concealed pistol shot another sheik in the leg when a bullet in the chamber went off, and then ammunition in the magazine went off and fragments tore into his hand.”

“OK. Can my lady friend and I safely get up now?”

Shandra was quick with her quip to the man she knew had a way with the ladies, herself being one of them. “Are you sure you don’t want to spend a little more personal time with her Chief? I saw your hand on her shapely ass earlier.”

Haveram, who had been sensing Akilah’s unguarded thoughts, as they lay concealed, offered a cautionary word for them all. “Shandra, I absolutely know you mean that as a joke on me, which is fine, and I find it funny in that context. But now I know what this young woman’s offense was that earned her a penalty from Sheik Sayed, which morphed into a death sentence, simply to demonstrate how much damage a rhinolo could do to a person. She failed to satisfy an animal trainer the Sheik wanted to reward for some noteworthy service to him, and Akilah never even knew what he did to earn his bonus. As if that mattered anyway. She was presented as a sex toy for him to use as he wished.

“A bit more than a year ago, her older brother was killed in this very arena in single combat, conducted solely to provide practice for an expert fighter Sayed was preparing for a match with a fighter of another sheik. These people have endured tremendous abuse from their masters and, for all intent and purposes, their owners. We need to be wary of inflicting additional casual and unintended hurts to people that have already suffered so much.”

“Holy crap Chief. Tell her I’m sorry. I feel like shit.”

“Shandra, you and I spoke by Comtap so she didn’t hear you. I wanted us all to be reminded of why we came here, and to understand the scars this planet of victims may bear, and of who has inflicted the worst of those scars. Before this day is out, the punishments meted out may get difficult for some of us to accept, and I’ll understand if anyone wishes to be excused.

“I want each of us to take turns and engage in some of the Mind Taps of these sheiks as we question them, to remind us of why we came here. It isn’t just because of the four kids killed at Poldark, and not only as the result of a single sheik’s cruelty.”

As he’d been speaking by Comtap, he was walking around the lower level of the arena, crossing the pedestrian bridges over each of the side passages, walking with Akilah, his hand on her arm. Simultaneously sending her mental reassurances that she was safe.

By the time he reached the VIP pavilion, and passed through the normally guarded gate that kept the lower classes separated from the rich and powerful, the nineteen sheiks, their ranks having been increased by the two late arrivals, were furious and sullen. Sayed and Kadar saw only Haveram, but they knew there were unseen others present, wearing the concealing armor they had previously learned was used in the war with the Krall. The various sheiks had never been able to purchase a working set of this improved armor.

Sayed boldly stepped forward. “You did not just meet with some of the Kobani at Poldark; I know that you are one of them yourself. We saw how you moved in the arena. It was not as an ordinary man can move.” It sounded like an accusation, as if he somehow still held the power here.

“I told you we look like any of the other citizens of Human Space. Although, you sheiks have managed to maintain a monopoly on much of the Arabic bloodlines from Earth, via the isolation in which you keep yourselves. I wonder, after your rule ends, if your people will become more open to change and freedom?”

He smirked. “You cannot legally remove us from our lands, and titles. We know the laws of the Hub worlds, and the PU’s legal limitations. Everything will be the same after you leave here. I suspect you were sent by the Poldark Governor, who has had lingering resentment of us. He is a pawn of the Planetary Union witches.”

“Yep, I’m sure you think that. Too bad for you pricks that we Kobani don’t have to follow those rules, or comply with those limitations, and we were not sent by Poldark or the Planetary Union. They don’t have any control over us at all.”

“Haveram, a man like you and a few friends can’t dictate to our entire planet, not if we won’t let you. Our militias and defense forces will guarantee that you will not leave here alive unless you run for your lives now. To encourage you to do that promptly, we each have agreed to pay you a fee that you do not deserve, of a million Hub credits, to get off our planet. I can pay for us all now, and they will pay me back. If any harm comes to any of us, all of you are doomed to ugly fates.”

Haveram just looked at the man, and before he could even flinch, slapped him in the face and grabbed his right hand with his own and asked a question. “You say you have nineteen million Hub credits here in your palace?”

Sayed tried to free his right hand as his cheek reddened, but that proved impossible. “We did not agree to pay that much.”

“But you do have that much here, right? In a vault?”

He glanced at the other sheiks, knowing that they didn’t want to haggle for their safety over such small sums. “I may not have that much in credits, so you would have to accept some in Rials.”

“You have a vault in the palace. How do you open that?” Haveram kept nodding each time he asked questions, even before Sayed answered.

“I have a small vault in my study, where I sometimes conduct business.” He resigned himself to their looting that small safe, of its tens of millions in large sums of electronic currency on chips, and some fine jewels he kept there. It would cost him perhaps fifty million. A fraction of what he had in his main vault. Seeing an eyebrow raised and an amused expression in Haveram’s eyes, he added more to his story.

“Like all of us here, we keep the bulk of our ready cash funds in banks in Khartoum City.”

“Is that right? I’d think you would keep it here, say under your palace, with some secure means to keep an interloper from entering a larger vault and robbing you.”

“No. That would be reckless.”

“A code phrase and retinal scan, with a hand print, would make it just as secure here, and certainly where you could protect it from your less than honest rivals on the planet.”

Sayed frowned, and looked nervous. “No. We have nothing to fear from one another, and the bank vaults are where we keep most of our funds.”

Haveram grinned, and said into the air, “Did you get that Sarge?” He’d been in an open Comtap link with the entire group as he Mind Tapped Sayed.

Flickering into sight, practically bedside Haveram, Sarge spoke via his suit speaker, as a startled Sayed tried to jump back, but was held by the iron grip on his right hand. “Yep, got it clearly, Chief. The big vault is right under the room where he put Billy boy. Oh, excuse me Sheik Shit Head, you met him as Arkedy Christoph, but he’s one of us. If you don’t mind, your eyeballs and palm print will go with me to open that vault. I assume you want to go with them.”

In a panic, Sayed said, “You do not have the secret spoken phrase. Besides, you have too little time before our cutters arrive. You need to take our fair first offer and flee before it is too late.” The other sheiks certainly wouldn’t compensate him for all of the lost contents of even his small safe, but he wanted them gone.

Sarge slapped the Sheik’s shoulder as he took control of the now highly concerned man and said, “Iftah Ya Simsim.”

He guffawed as he saw Sayed blanch. “Is that the cliché spoken phrase in Arabic you meant? Open Sesame in Standard? Really? I mean the damned captain of the Delta Dawn called himself Ali Baba, but apparently, all of you self-declared sheiks think you’re living the stories from One Thousand and One Nights. All you lack is the rest of the forty thieves. The smart ones.”

As he started pulling Sayed along, the man called to the head of his security forces. “Kadar, do something.”

“I will if I can my Sheik, but I must survive to do that. There are more hidden Kobani here.”

“Then you are as good as dead anyway,” came the promise from a despot that would certainly keep his word if he got the chance.

Haveram shook his head. “I promise he won’t be able to deliver on that threat, Kadar. There is a sort of a people’s court coming for him, but you shouldn’t feel relieved. As his chief of security I suspect you have a great deal to answer for to the people around here as well.”

At that moment, Thad, who had been in contact with the four Kobani craft in orbit, shut off his stealth and flicked into sight up on the pavilion. Using his suit speakers, he called over to Haveram about their progress. One purpose of that was to reinforce to the captive sheiks that there indeed were other invisible Kobani present around them. Another was so they were able to hear his report, and understand they had no cutters coming to their rescue.

“Chief, the cutters are all disabled or destroyed. Five of them received warnings of the first ships we hit sitting on their pads, and they were airborne before we hit them with missiles. I think, if they have a shipyard here, the thirteen disabled ships can be repaired. Sayed’s cutter is unharmed, of course, since we boarded that one. None of the cutters of the three sheiks not invited here today show any sign of launching. We’ll stop those too if necessary.”

“And the yachts?” Haveram asked.

“Oh. Sorry, we have control of those too. I figured you would assume that, since they’re all parked here.”

“I should have, I guess. I’ve not been a part of as many combat actions as you guys have. Your people are efficient. I think we could use some more bodies here on the ground, however. After we question these other sheiks, we’ll likely need to take them home in their own yachts to empty each of their vaults, with more of our folks as escorts. We’ll need our people to Mind Tap their pilots and then fly their boats there.”

“Sure. I think we can leave minimal crews in orbit now, with no real threats left. They’ll be knocking out the orbital defense plasma cannons for another half hour or so, but we can use at least a hundred fifty more bodies down here, to split up and take out security forces at the other eighteen palaces. Like you said, they can travel in style on those space yachts.”

There was an impatient, but humbling request received on the common Comtap link. It was Bill Saber. “Hey, Chief, I’ve been patient, I missed all the arena fun, and now I heard you say the Sheik’s vault is right below where he locked me up. Sarge is on his way down with the perverted bastard, so how about my joining you? Before you all go home without my butt.”

“Oh, sorry Bill. Come on up here if you want, or follow Sarge down to the vault.”

“Yea. See, that’s my problem. After hearing that the fit hit the shan at the arena, I knew I didn’t need to play act anymore to keep the Sheik fooled. So I broke free of my wrist shackles and tried to get out. The damn heavy window bars are welded to a steel frame, which surrounds the whole room, floors, walls and ceiling. I broke out the plazsteel window glass, and kicked at the door through its locked bars, but I haven’t managed to get out yet because I can’t bend the damn bars or pull them off the walls.”

Haveram smiled. “Oh, then you’re asking for some help to escape, is that it? I’m sure Sarge, when he’s done examining the vault, or sometime later today will have time to stop by to help you.”

“No! At least I want to go on one of the trips to the other palaces. To carry away some of the loot they have.”

“Loot? We won’t let them keep it, but it isn’t ours to keep either. We aren’t thieves, although I doubt they’ll agree. Anyway, I was teasing about letting you sit there longer. Sarge will let you out. As you recall, I told you that slavers might have a way to lock up even a Kobani where we couldn’t escape.”

“Right, I remember.” He sounded minimally more humbled.

The process of Mind Tapping the other sheiks took another hour, and more Kobani arrived, having to fight and kill or capture more of Sayed’s off duty security thugs as they traveled from the landing pad, as news spread of the invaders. Palace servants were told to return to the nearby villages, where their families lived. Those housing areas were all built well out of sight of the Palace grounds, to preclude the lord and master from having to see them live in their squalor and dirt.

The messengers were told to announce that the rule of the Sheiks was ending, and that a court of judgement for the sheiks and some of their heirs, was to be held at the arena, with the people to be a party to the judging.

Sarge returned with Sayed, and Bill was red faced and fuming, walking behind them.

Haveram asked, “The vault’s full of treasure, I presume?”

“Hell yes. Organized stacks of gold bullion, trays full of sorted gemstones, currency chips in drawers labeled with amounts from thousands of Hub credits or Rials, to many millions. Art work too, like paintings and sculptures. I’ll bet some of that can be traced back to thefts. Hell, we don’t have the expertise to evaluate that stuff, or investigate theft and money laundering. There are electronic records of centuries of transactions, which the Sheik was kind enough to accidentally think of the access code.” Sarge was bewildered and shaking his head.

“The PU, or some established government authority really needs to be involved, since they have the bureaucracy, and art and financial experts to examine what we’re finding. But I don't think they want to be involved with something we Kobani initiated. There needs to be some sort of rebuilding of a government here, once these petty dictatorships are ended. Who can run this place? Corruption is so rampant here that I wouldn’t trust any human on this planet to try to straighten it all out.”

Haveram was finally having what he’d started here settle on his shoulders. He had only wanted to catch the villains that kidnapped and killed children. He decided to talk about something else for the moment. “Bill, you seem kind of strained. You got out of that box, so what’s eating you now?”

“I mind tapped that scum bag as I asked him what he’d intended to do with me. It’s vile and evil beyond what I’m willing even to describe. He’s done it many times in his life, to dozens of much younger boys. None of them are alive to say it for themselves.”

Haveram was taken aback by the vehemence Saber exuded. “He actually admitted and told you about this?”

Saber’s face assumed a look of revulsion, and he made a pushing away gesture towards Sayed. “Of course not, but when asked, he found such pleasure in the acts he’s committed that he couldn’t stop thinking about them. It was worse than a Tap of a Krall’s mind, since at least they weren’t human, and you didn’t expect them to show any human decency or sympathy for those they tortured and killed. A Krall never felt a sexual attraction for their victims as they mutilated and tortured them. The best I can say about this pig of a human being is that he didn’t eat his victims alive.” Saber shuddered, and Haveram let him continue when the emotional content, sensed through Comtap, clearly revealed the young man had more he needed to express.

“He sold many young girls to a number of these other lowlife sheiks, and he occasionally witnessed equally terrible things done to them as they were used and mutilated. I can’t tolerate another Mind Tap with a perverted monster like this one, but their guilt needs to be conveyed to whoever judges them. I have already decided what my judgement would be for this despicable creature, but I don't think it should be administered by me. I’m biased, because I have seen in his mind what his sick fantasy had in store for that Christoph boy, wearing my face.

“That is the most depraved sort of thing some of them do personally, but all of these sheiks sent thousands of men and women, and sometimes children, to their deaths in the arenas around the planet in each decade of their rule. Revealing that via joint Mind Taps might stimulate suitable outrage in the population of the whole planet. The sheiks control every form of planet-wide communication, so few of their serfs know the scope of what happens at their restricted arena entertainments. Only the wealthy, their families, and favored supporters were invited to watch, make bets, to buy and sell human fighters or teams, or to buy or trade the animals used in these shows.

“That sort of arena murder was on a much larger scale than the personal hands-on killings. I think many people in the general population must have suffered from their cruel indifference. Other than word of mouth, they couldn’t have knowledge of the planet wide scale of killings for entertainment. That crime involves all of the sheiks gathered here, and all their heirs, as far as I could determine from his cesspool mind.

“From Sayed’s disdain, when I asked him if every sheik participated in these activities, he thinks very poorly of the three men he didn’t invite today. By our standards, and certainly the PU’s standards, those three uninvited sheiks probably have a shabby human rights record for their people, particularly women. By comparison, on Khartoum’s Destiny, these men are practically models of decency, and they really are proponents of humane treatment for those they rule. Those three sheiks were justifiably fearful of being taken over by these wealthier sheikdoms, because they didn’t have the revenue and smuggling sources to buy outside arms to protect their sheikdoms if they were too outspoken. It was only their devout belief in their religion that stayed action against them, by those that pretend they follow the same faith, but violate its teachings constantly.”

Haveram sensed the lad had expended his emotional energy. “Bill, you struck me as a cocky and overly brash kid when I met you earlier this week, but that has just changed. You may also have provided us a means to extricate ourselves from this social mess, by speaking to those three sheiks, and involving the people of this planet in the decisions as to what will happen to these tyrants. I wasn’t looking forward to ordering them thrown into the arena with the rhinolo. It wasn’t fair to abuse the animals that way, getting their horns and feet all messy.”

Thad was on the verge of a protest. “Chief, you won’t just pull out, allowing the influence of all their ill-gotten wealth determine what happens to these sheiks, will you? There’s no way justice would be administered fairly, or the wealth used to benefit those that need the help most. The influence of the powerful families will eventually put them back in charge.”

“I hope not, and there is a plan in the works. Aside from getting the people and the three moderate sheiks involved, using shared Mind Taps to show them the truth, we are storing the sheik’s wealth off-planet, and we want to ensure that it is used to build an infrastructure here to improve the quality of life. I know I’m damn well not qualified to do that, and I doubt if any of you are qualified either. We’ve only just started organizing our own government.

“That’s why Tet, Maggi and President Stewart, at my request, have been in contact with the Raspani leaders and the Prada, who have thousands of years of recorded history of organizing things, and are impartial. They’ve offered to send representatives here to monitor and mediate the recovery and rebuilding of this society, provided a Kobani force remains to protect them and to act as an outside police force. Police that can’t be subverted or corrupted by local influence. Our alien allies recommend that we encourage the people here to administer justice to their oppressors before the Raspani and Prada monitors arrive. I think they know they are too squeamish about what has to be done, yet intellectually they understand the perpetrators have to pay for their crimes. Humans are well suited to exacting final justice, and the people here best know what has been done to them, and who did it to them.”

Sarge, helmet removed, looked over at the clueless Sayed, who knew nothing of the Comtap conversations going on around him. “Tough news for you, your royal sleaziness. Your own people will decide your fate. I don't think it’s gonna be pretty.”

It wasn’t.

****

Sayed wasn’t feigning his gratitude to his unexpected savior. “I will reward you for your service beyond your wildest dreams. I have gems and credit chips stored in my two small palaces, and at my seaside summer residence. Help me get to any of those places and they are yours.”

In an afterthought, he asked the man his name, as if he were interested. “What are you called?”

“Ramal, my Sheik.”

The old man bowed respectfully, as he opened the securely locked cell. “I would treasure those rewards, my Sheik, but more so the memories of what I do for you today. Please hurry. The missing key I took will be noticed at any time. I have a plan, which requires that we take an obscure path under the floor of the arena to avoid anyone that might see us. The only unguarded exits are on the side by the animal pens, and one is directly behind where the off world feathered monster is kept. Its constant screams when it sees people, and the lunges it makes at the bars frightens everyone, and they stay away from there. I have an old and dirty truck outside an exit there, where I can conceal you inside when I drive away with a load of animal dung. I’m sorry about the vile contents, but it is the only vehicle available for me to use, and no one will look inside it for a sheik.”

Sayed’s gratitude was instantly reduced by a significant degree by this revelation, and he would adjust downward the promised reward for this dirty, smelly, old animal shit hauler. Except that would only happen after he was safely away from the Kobani devils that had captured and robbed him. He would escape the judgement he knew would be rendered by the clamoring multitude, which he’d been hearing gather in the stadium above for two days.

“We must go this way my Sheik, past the other cells. We cannot pause to speak to any of the other prisoners, and if we brought another person with us, we increase the chance you will be discovered.”

“I understand.” He had no intention to risk the success of his only escape opportunity. Several of his sons were being held nearby, and he’d heard them call out through the meal tray opening of their cell doors, to find who else was being kept down here. These were the individual cells, reserved for visiting fighters representing other sheiks, or victims intended for some arena entertainment. He’d not answered his sons. They were on their own.

They passed six cells before someone, peeking through the food slot, saw and recognized him. Sheik Osama bin Nagi called out to him, pleading for information.

“Abdul, are you being taken for the judgement already? Can we speak for ourselves or have someone speak for us? Is it to be sharia law? Are the three devout sheiks conducting the hearings or will it be the mob? Is it beheading, prison, or to be thrown to the new animals in the arena?

Sayed didn’t answer or look at him as he passed. What could he say? He didn’t know, and it no longer applied to him anyway. He was going to escape. Others, roused from their cots by Nagi’s overheard questions, moved to their food slots to peer out. Soon there were dozens of questions, which grew in volume the longer they were ignored. Someone was bound to come to see why the prisoners had resumed shouting, after they had tired of the waste of their energy yesterday.

“My Sheik, we must hurry. We turn here to go to the animal pens. When we arrive, I will open the first gate for you and close it behind me, so a follower will not know if we came that way.” He led him down a passage near the side of the outer wall of the Coliseum, which from the smells and noise ahead was leading them towards the animal enclosures.

The blue streaks had been moved down here again, but the rhinolo were still up in the arena, because there wasn’t an enclosure strong enough to hold them below. They were too dangerous to be let loose in the countryside, and it was possible that they might be taken back to their home after all. As it happened, the Kobani had not needed to grab the sheiks and flee, with whatever riches they could obtain quickly. They would have plenty of time.

As improbable as it seemed, twelve Kobani on the ground, plus two rippers, and four ships in orbit carrying another two hundred Kobani, had virtually taken over Khartoum’s Destiny. That was largely thanks to the most powerful sheiks, who conveniently gathered where they could all be captured at one place by a small force. Their separate sheikdoms had never backed a central government or combined militia, nor did they have populations that were armed and capable of fighting for them. Not that they would, even if those sheiks had been prepared to arm the people, which of course they were not. Peasants armed with only pitchforks and torches were not much of a problem to keep subjugated, particularly when there were security militias each despot paid to maintain their tyranny, and ugly deaths for entire families could be the price of objecting.

Sayed hurried to stay behind the odiferous old man, and stayed well away from pens that held cape buffalo, two hybrid war elephants, a pride of Earth bred lions, a pack of wolves, two large brown bears, some Alders World broad horned Bison, and the Koban blue streaks, which he saw up close for the first time. They were quite tall at their backs, and their long glossy black horns appeared to have very sharp tips. He was still looking over his shoulder at the exotic animals when a tarpaulin made of some synthetic gray fabric restricted his view.

When he looked ahead, he realized the old man had led him into a tunnel-like section of the passage, where the thirty-foot high animal pens on both sides were hung with these coverings, tied to the tops of the pens. There was a mesh lying over the top of all the animal pens. The metal mesh was ten feet below the ceiling, and it permitted animal handlers to walk over the pens to observe any point below. The tarps were sometimes used by animal handlers to isolate and calm animals that were kept here, preserving their energy for when they faced each other or men up in the arena.

Disoriented in this maze, Sayed saw the man stop and pull back the edge of one of the tarps, revealing a barred heavy gate, made with wrist-thick steel rods and bracing crosspieces. Sayed noted the gate was placed across a twenty-foot wide passage, with tarps only on the right side. The passage ended at a large steel door in a ferrocrete wall, located about a hundred feet away.

“What is this side corridor used for?”

The old man winced, apparently at how loud he’d spoken, and answered in a near whisper when he replied. “My Sheik, elephants and animals such as water buffalo are moved in or out by this route.” He pointed to the door in the far wall.

“On the other side of that motor driven track door is my truck, which is parked just outside the base wall of the coliseum, on the side away from your palace. There is an underground loading dock out there, where animals are brought in by trucks. That is where their wastes are carried away, by trucks like mine. The loading dock is not visible to anyone above because it is covered over and below street level. There is a long ramp leading up to the road.”

The man produced a large manual key from a pocket, and kneeled down to insert it in the bottom lock of the thirty-foot tall gate. A twist of the heavy wide handled key, and a three-inch thick locking pin retracted to allow the gate to swing open. Two other equally heavy latches, placed higher on the gate, were already open so the old man didn’t need to climb up on the cross pieces to reach them.

Seeing the Sheik’s upward glance, he explained. “I spent all night covering this passageway to conceal this exit from followers as we made our escape. I unlocked the upper latches then to save time. We need to hurry, because I think I hear other voices back where we came from.”

The Sheik couldn’t hear the voices of the other prisoners that had shouted at him earlier, but he could well imagine a chase may have started. He quickly stepped through the gate, pushing the old man aside as he cringed at the foul contact with the man’s soiled clothing.

“My Sheik, if you wait for me at the other door, I will relock this gate.”

Sayed certainly saw no need to hesitate, and rushed quickly towards the large solid steel door. It was motorized and mounted on tracks, like those in the arena. He heard the metallic ringing of the latch closing when he was midway to the big door. When he arrived, he impatiently slapped the wall pad to activate the motor that would pull the door open. Nothing happened.

Seeing another key hole, he realized it required a key, to prevent animals from accidentally bumping the button to activate the drive motor. He looked back, and the old man wasn’t to be seen, but there was some rustling at the edge of the tarp at the other end, where he could see hands and feet, revealing the old man was climbing the gate.

The old man appeared over the top of the gate, above the tarp that concealed it from view on the other side. Spryer than he looked, he had climbed to the top and now stood on the exposed mesh that also covered the top of the passageway, he pulled a hook bill knife from a tool belt, and started to cut the chords that held up the fabric over the outside of the gate.

“Don’t waste time with that.” Then Sayed thought for a second, and remembered what the old man had said.

“That is supposed to conceal this exit route. You should leave it in place.”

With a gap-toothed smile that Sayed hadn’t seen displayed earlier, Ramal said, “Then I wouldn’t be able to watch, my Sheik.”

“Watch what? Open the next door immediately.”

“I hear and obey, my Sheik. I will open the next door very soon.” Why did that obedient reply somehow sound insolent? He also wasn’t whispering now. There was a snort of some sort, heard from some distance away.

Instead of climbing down, the old man walked on the center of the springy exposed steel mesh covering the passageway, moving towards Sayed. About halfway to the wall, he stepped to the covered side of the passage, bent and used the hook bill to sever another chord holding up a corner of a different tarpaulin. The fabric sagged until the middle support chord kept it from falling farther.

“What are you doing? Open the door now.” Sayed saw a hinge of another heavy barred gate was revealed behind that drooping tarp corner. The mesh, now visible over the pen on that side was also covered by other tarps laid flat. Every pen here was covered with mesh, but what was the purpose of laying traps up there, and why was he cutting two hanging tarps down? Sayed started to feel uneasy at these seemingly irrational actions. Ramal moved to the center chord of the tarp, and bent to cut that one.

“If you will stop wasting time, I will double your reward. Of what use is removing these panels?”

“My Sheik, I am hurrying to receive my reward. I will be paid soon.”

The long sheet of fabric started to sag again as the central rope was severed, and additional tarps laid over the top mesh of the pen were revealed. A repeat of the earlier snort sounded, and it actually had an inquisitive note to it this time.

Sayed was tempted to walk towards the gate being revealed by the tarp removal, but a sense of dread prevented him from moving. “Why did you use tarps to block your view down into that pen from the top?”

“My Sheik, it was not to block my view inside, it was to block his view out, of me.”

“Whose view?” He knew he didn’t want to hear the answer.

As the third rope was cut, another twenty-foot wide gate was fully revealed when the thirty by twenty feet of lightweight material fell to the floor in loose folds. Ramal, from his position on the passageway mesh covering, looked down into the pen from his vantage point and nodded.

“Now he sees…,” the rest of whatever Ramal said was obliterated by an ear-piercing screech that dropped into lower notes as it ended. Only something large could make that sound.

Sayed looked at the top of the gate where Ramal was crouching, and was relieved to see the heavy latch pin was inserted into the thick doorframe. He was certain he knew what this was about; advance payment. Ramal didn’t trust Sayed to pay him, once they were away from the arena.

He wet his fingers with his suddenly drying tongue, twisted and pulled off three rings, each with impressive sized gemstones. One was an emerald, one a sapphire, and one a ruby. All were large beautiful natural stones, mounted in heavy gold settings. He didn’t care for diamonds, and as it happened, cheaper diamonds were far more common on planets such as Gribble’s Nook than were the other stones.

“Let me pay you with these rings, and then you open the door. I’ll drive your truck away by myself. These would buy you a fleet of new trucks.”

“That is not the reward I seek. Those rings will not buy my family another Hassam, who died in your arena. They would not have replaced my granddaughter Akilah, Hassam’s sister, who you threw into the arena two days ago, just to watch her be torn apart by strange animals. She escaped only when saved by the man from Koban. Her death sentence was ordered because she refused to submit to the foul man you gave her to, so you sheiks could watch what the strange animals would do to her.”

With that, he reached his arm through a six-inch hole cut in the mesh for this purpose, and inserted his key in the top latch. The pin snapped back with a clang, drawing another screeching roar from the pen. Sayed’s eyes were instantly drawn to the other two latches, at the middle and bottom. They too had been opened before he had arrived. His fate was decided before he had left his cell.

He had to try to bargain for a longer life than the next few minutes. “Ramal, you must have heard that sharia law will be administered by the three devout sheiks invited to hold court. Because of my sins against Allah, it will be a severe punishment. Is not your sense of honor better served by having them pass judgement on me? It would be done before Allah, your family, and all the people. The penalty is beheading, if they find me guilty of murder.”

The old man touched his chin, as if considering this. “To have you beheaded, or torn apart as you ordered for my granddaughter?” He shrugged. “That is an easy choice.

“Even the three more devout sheiks are still sheiks. You could be spared your life and offered only the lash, or an amputation and regrowth. That is not enough for my family’s honor.”

In Sayed’s mind, it was a certainty those three sheiks would declare him a murderer and call for his head. They had declared all nineteen of the other sheiks murderers at some time or other. He could hear the clumps of heavy feet slowly coming closer. The sight of blue tinged white feathers in the dirt near the gate told him what was coming. The whiteraptor had probably shed those when it attacked the bars and gate when Ramal had tied the tarpaulins in place. It seemed to be holding back now, for some reason.

The insight came swiftly, based on a lifetime of watching smart predators kept in captivity. The gate was unlocked but it was still closed, and the animal didn’t know the difference. He realized the raptor was being tentative because it didn’t see a way out. He’d watched it on a video feed previously, the first day in this same large pen, as it repeatedly tested the new enclosure’s strength. It had finally learned it couldn’t break through, so it was approaching slower now, coming over simply to make its displeasure known and to satisfy its curiosity. Ramal wouldn’t allow that state to persist. His hand was still stuck through the hole in the mesh up to his elbow, gripping the top of the gate. He would pull it open as far as he could when the raptor came closer, and then the monster would shove it completely open.

Sayed decided to run to the other end of the passageway, where he could climb the tall gate to the top to see if he could make a gap and force his way through. The big gate was held shut only by the bottom latch, so it might warp enough at the top to allow him to squeeze through. He dropped the rings and started his dash.

When he passed the crumpled tarp, he glanced through the gate’s bars. The raptor was fifty feet away in the large pen but it saw him. Running prey triggered an instant response, and a fresh and louder screech sounded as it leaped with a powerful surge of speed. Somehow, he had thought of it as lumbering, due to its size. Its sight and sound now spurred Sayed to greater, more desperate effort. Exactly as if his life depended on that, as he’d seen countless other men and women do in the past. Sometimes they won that race.

He reached the end gate and used the cross bracing to climb as fast as he could to the top. He’d felt the gate’s frame vibrate and rattle with only the bottom clamped as he climbed; He hoped he could flex the tall gate enough to squeeze through. He had watched many desperate people do amazing things in life or death situations.

At the top, he grasped the mesh top with his right hand, and shoved his left arm through a pair of bars, resting it on a diagonal support welded at the corner of the gate. It hurt his arm and fingers, but that supported his weight, while he pushed with his feet and legs against the passageway bars. The gate, being twenty feet wide, and thirty feet tall, pinned only at the bottom, warped six inches out into the main corridor on his first try, but not enough.

He heard the crash and felt the vibration as the raptor slammed into the other gate, emitting a triumphant scream of pursuit. Sayed looked back just once, and saw that the beast had slipped and fallen as the gate suddenly swung wide, yielding to the body slam. It was scrabbling to get its feet under it, and using its little feathered arms and hand claws to tear at the fabric of the tarps and cross bars, using them to help stabilize it as it regained its footing. The narrow tooth filled mouth was agape, and its two forward oriented yellow eyes were locked on Sayed, using its binocular vision to judge how close its prey was. Fifty feet wasn’t very far, not to a thirty-foot long frustrated young killer, operating in such low gravity.

Sayed, breathing heavy, used the rest of his strength to shift his feet to closer bars, for a harder push, and shoved with all his might. The gate warped almost a foot at the top corner, and using his straightened right leg, knee locked, to maintain that push with his left hip painfully pressed against the edge of the gate, he jammed his now free left knee through the lower part of that opening. Pulling his left arm free, he twisted to shove his arm and left shoulder into the gap above that leg. He was stuck, because he couldn’t pull his right leg back to slide it into the gap, because it was all that was creating the gap. His only hope was that at twenty-five feet above the floor, he was higher than the beast’s head.

Then the young, inexperienced predator, added a permanent warp to the gate, as it slammed into it with its left shoulder, its fetid breath coming from just feet below Sayed. It was thirty-feet long, but not thirty-feet tall, and it hadn’t leaped upward as it closed with its target. On the rebound, it lost its footing again, but not before it created an eighteen-inch gap at the gate’s top corner. Sayed would have slipped down, wedged within easy reach of the raptor if not for his literal death grip on the overhead mesh with his right hand.

Sayed, supported by his cut and bleeding fingers gripping the metal mesh, his left arm and elbow now locked around a bar from the outside of the passage, pushed his now free-swinging right leg through the widened opening. He was having trouble getting his ample gut through the gap, which he sucked in now. If his right hand had jarred free of the mesh, he would have slipped down where the gap was slimmer, and he’d never get his torso through. He was close to forcing his way through, thanks to the young raptor’s clumsy and inexperienced attack. He’d fall nearly twenty-five feet when he pulled his head through and let go, but he might only receive a minor injury if he clutched at the bars to slow his fall.

Abruptly, he thought his right hand had gone numb and released, when he lost his grip, and only his left arm wrapped around that bar kept him from sliding lower. He reached up again to grasp the mesh and pull himself up a bit to get all the way through the gap, but couldn’t seem to get a grip.

He heard a laugh as he felt several items softly strike his head through the top of his keffiyeh and they bounced off, passing in front of his face. He couldn’t believe it. They looked like the ends of fingers. Sayed looked up. It seemed that Ramal had arrived with his hook bill tool. He then sat on the mesh at the top of the gate, swung his right leg over the side by the gap, planted a foot in Sayed’s horrified upturned face and shoved him down, pushing his head back through the gap and twisting his keffiyeh to the side, as his paunchy midriff wedged the man in the gate.

“Look down, my Sheik. Your fate is rising to meet you.”

The last sight a screaming Sayed had was of an open maw, rimmed with serrated teeth, rising to close on his head and upper torso.

****

Haveram was annoyed. “How could it get out? Either gate would probably hold in an adult. No way did it break out.” His first reaction was disbelief and denial. The adolescent whiteraptor male was loose in the underground warren below the floor of the arena, raising havoc with the animals it could reach. It had started using its powerful feet to kick-in the weaker cell doors it encountered, when it detected more of the noisy, but soft chewy meat morsels inside the small nests.

Carson had an idea. “I don't think it was expected to get completely free. The first gate was undamaged, so it must have been left unlocked. The second gate was bent far back at middle and top, with only the bottom locking pin twisted open, as the raptor forced its way out. The top two pins of that gate were already retracted. Next to that damaged second gate is where we found the half-eaten remains of a chunky man, who once had worn a rather fancy gold trimmed white robe. The headdress, or keffiyeh was missing, along with the head and upper chest, but I’ll bet you Federation credits that it had real gold threads braided into the rope agal. The agal is that circular rope or braid that holds the scarf on the head. That was a traditional Arab robe, except for the gold trim, which nearly all of the sheiks wear. I think one of them received his judgement early, and then the raptor went looking for more of them.”

Thad said, “We can count which one was missing from the holding cells later, if that damn raptor doesn’t eat any of them whole. It has to be getting full. It’ll want a nap soon. Right now, we don’t want that wild raptor bastard to get out and wade into the mob gathering above in the coliseum. They came here to see judgements rendered, not to join those being judged. It would easily get out of that arena if it made it that far. Hell the rippers jumped out easy enough. I half expected the mob to want to send the sheiks into the arena with the rhinolo. They’ve agreed to let the three other sheiks render judgements on the accused sheiks, which is apparently a public beheading for the crimes of which they are all accused, if found guilty. Perhaps more humane, but still brutal. Some of their henchmen will join them.”

Haveram nodded. “OK. Have someone shoot the raptor. We need some of the bastards to face the local version of legal justice, although I favor the raptors version for most of them. This place will take some serious watching for a long time. I’m happy to let the Raspani and Prada organize that, with a few dozen Kobani rotated through to back them up for years, until they set up a trained local police force they can trust. I’m happy that Poldark is willing to undertake that training task. At least the sheiks estates will pay for it all. Damn they were greedy bastards, with their tentacles into crimes on almost every Rim World. Wait until the PU finds out how deep they were into deals with corrupt Hub World officials.

“This proof of concept shows we can police an entire world with just a few well-placed people that come in quietly, and kick the bad guy’s asses. We might find ourselves in the interstellar marshal business out here on the Rim for years, chasing down all the leads that the Mind Taps from here are providing. Assuming we can get any authorization for doing it legally, and be paid for our efforts.”

Carson smiled. “Making it legal may take some time, but I think we can get paid. Some Rim Worlds are a lot like the old United States and its western frontier, before any real law and order spread there. Ethan and I have been thinking about ways to help people on Rim Worlds in the meantime. It might involve guns, rippers, and some travel.”

Chapter 12: A Malevolent Force

A year after Medford was voted out of office, in a narrow presidential victory for DEW, the Democratically Empowered Workers, the LOR, Leaders of the Old Republic, still held a slim majority in both branches of Parliament. The political right wing couldn’t save Medford’s career, not after her embarrassing and humiliating showing on the Capitol steps. But they were able to rally enough of the conservative and religious voter factions in the Hub itself, and many of those on the sympathetic Old Colonies, who took in the devastated survivors and refugees from Meadow and Bootstrap.

Those conservative voters reelected many incumbent LOR representatives. Those that won reelection were more successful if they were sure to condemn Kobani genetic modification of the human genome, despite the Kobani being responsible for ending the war. The party managed to link the destruction of two planets to Kobani gene changes, as if this were somehow related to the Gene War disaster of three hundred years ago, and not part of the effort to defeat the Krall.

It was pointed out by the LOR, that Captain Mirikami was originally from New Honshu, the home of the clones that were the targets in the Gene War. Now he led the people that had actually exceeded the genetic changes of those past centuries, bringing about yet another disaster.

It had been two years since the defeat of the Krall, yet politics had blocked diplomatic recognition of the Galactic Federation, despite the support of President Marlene Strickland, and her Vice President, Adriana Bledso, formerly Chairfem of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The choice of Bledso as the running mate was a significant reason the DEW captured enough of the conservative, pro-military vote, to win the top office.

The diplomatic failure with the PU had not much bothered the GF, and it certainly didn’t slow them down. They established diplomatic and trade relations with several dozen independent Rim Worlds, who were eager to gain access to the faster transportation of goods and people via the T-cubed fleet of ships, which only the Kobani possessed. They also purchase new products that benefited from alien technology, which the Federation manufacturers sold at reasonable prices.

Even though the Federation held a monopoly on the production of the items that used their new technology, as was the case with Hub world manufactured products, there was a difference. The Haven based companies didn’t add government regulated tariffs on items that used this proprietary technology when sold outside the Federation. Hub companies did charge extra when selling to a Rim World, in an effort to pressure them into joining the PU as a New Colony, avoiding the tariff charges.

The Federation offered consumer items such as appliances that used low power tachyon derived energy, and which never required household electricity. This made the gadgets more portable and versatile, and cheaper to operate than equivalent Hub products, which usually had to plug into a power grid, or have their batteries recharged from one.

What stung the Hub worlds and PU more, were the new human colonies started in Federation space, the new planets being selected from the best of the worlds that were most suitable for humans, out of the thousands of habitable planets available. The Planetary Union had not established a single completely new colony since the recovery from the Collapse, following the Gene War. And then the Krall halted ambitions in that direction for over twenty years.

The Rim Worlds, and even many New Colonies, had barely managed to hold out through those tough recovery years, and now they were benefitting from Kobani services, and alien technology. They were offered the purchase of gene modified crops and livestock, free of the costs of research and development expenses. Those crops and animals were better suited for the individual climates and unique planetary ecologies of each colony.

This work was something the Midwife Project had been intended to address, the gradual decline in productivity of foods from those colonies, because Earth evolved plants and animals were often not compatible with their new homes. The life already on a colony world frequently was not fully chemically compatible with Earth evolved life, at least not without some outlawed modifications being employed. There was no suggestion of changing the human colonists. Everything was oriented towards making the new world conform to human needs, not the other way around. However, anyone wishing to receive the Kobani mods could travel to the Federation for them. There was a steady but small stream of takers.

Old Colonies and Hub worlds didn’t have this planetary adaptation problem, because people forgot they had been settled when gene mods were a normal part of terraforming a planet. Now, the Kobani were helping Rim Worlds do this, thus drawing them closer to the Galactic Federation camp.

Using the GMO plants and animals, a farmer or rancher on a Rim World could raise bountiful crops, and healthier livestock on the same land. They stood to further increase their profits by eliminating the need to import Hub furnished soil nutrients, and vitamin supplements for animals, and for the health of the colonists, who couldn’t get the nutrients they required by consuming their original crops and animals.

The gene mods were offered in exchange for fair trade agreements with the expanding Federation to buy food from them. The participating worlds soon had more goods to sell, produced them more cheaply, and had expanding future markets on new Federation worlds to provide a demand for their products.

The trade agreements were an important aspect, because most of the core Hub worlds had decided they would boycott purchase of GMO foods from any Rim World that raised gene-modified crops and animals. The archaic objection was a clear reflection of similar old arguments, proven absolutely baseless back when genetically modified organisms were introduced, first on Earth, and then more vitally, when they were required for the success of the first human colonies, over five hundred years ago.

GMO foods had been no more harmful then than natural genetic hybrids, which were derived from thousands of years of selecting desirable traits that appeared accidentally in crops and animals, or were attained via deliberate cross breeding. Cattle were far removed from their wild ancestors, as were potatoes, tomatoes, corn, wheat, and too many food items to waste your life reading about how they came into existence.

The fears today were fed by illogical stories from the Gene War, which was caused by a weaponized agent designed to be harmful to human males via infection. Even so, the gene change that killed men didn’t render them dangerous to eat, had anyone tried to overcome the revulsion of cannibalism. In a few macabre examples, after society collapsed, some starving women in isolated pockets had eaten the only meat available to them and their dying children, when supplies of food failed to arrive at their isolated and fledgling colonies. They and their daughters, and a mere handful of males, survived and remained healthy until relief arrived.

The PU’s actions now merely drove the Rim Worlds to form closer ties with the Federation. New Colonies, who had only voted to become members of the Planetary Union when the Krall attacks started, nevertheless retained their independent attitudes from before their transition from Rim World status.

Planets like Poldark were willing to disregard PU boycott recommendations, and they and many other New Colonies imported the lower cost Rim World GMO foods, which they were forbidden to grow for themselves by new PU laws.

****

Deep into the Galactic Federation, Paradise was a close analogue of Earth, located on the far side of former Krall territory from Koban, close to where the Orion Spur and the Sagittarius arm of the Milky Way separated. All of Human Space and former Krall territory fell within the minor arm called the Orion Spur, a branch of the Sagittarius arm. The much longer major arm offered a wealth of stars for other civilizations to have flourished. At least eighteen intelligent and space going species had evolved in the spinward side of the short Orion Spur. Humans had yet to look very far in the opposite, anti-spinward direction of that spur of stars, which gradually dwindled away, leaving a wider gap between the Perseus and Sagittarius Arms.

Paradise, like most of the other newest Federation colonies, was in the oldest area the Krall had capture early in their expansion, and had benefitted from the longer time to recover from previous exploitation and habitation. They happened to be close to the Sagittarius Arm. This region of stars was left fallow many thousands of years ago, after the Krall eliminated a number of minor colonies there of several species. After that, they had moved in the direction of fresh inhabited worlds found deeper in the Orion Spur.

There were a number of near perfect worlds found for humans, Paradise being the best example. There were others well suited for the Torki, Raspani, and the Prada. They were located farther away from Haven and Koban, and from Human Space, but with T-cubed travel, the distance was no longer an issue.

But not all was well in Paradise. For the fourth time in a month, an indecipherable radio broadcast suddenly started arriving. This time it came four hours before dawn for the lone watch stander, the only person that was probably awake of the fifteen thousand one hundred nine residents of the first, and largest town on Paradise, named Elysium. Peshawar Tolvert had the unenviable task of staffing the small communications shack this night.

It was certainly easier work than many of the other jobs the small colony assigned to those that put in long fifteen-hour half day shifts. The thirty-hour days of the planet pushed the four growing colony towns on Paradise to use all of the daylight hours possible, because nighttime outside work was hindered by limited moonlight from two small moons, and a lack of adequate outside lighting. Fifteen hours in the dark, alone, while the rest of the colonists slept, or perhaps worked on inside personal projects, made for dull duty. Usually.

Peshawar would soon desperately trade tonight for a long dull shift. One located on, say, another colony?

The colony AI, named Margo, promptly routed the audio of the transmission through the speaker system of the shack. They had already determined that it was a frequency-modulated signal, but they didn’t know if it would return after three repeats. Peshawar thought the louder volume he had set would arouse him if he nodded off to sleep, if it came again. His transducer implant was something he’d never had before immigrating to Paradise, and he thought its limited volume might not wake him, so he counted on the loud speaker to get his attention.

The booming bugling sounds from the speakers damn well jolted him awake. He leaped out of his leaned back chair, tipping it over, and promptly banged a knee into the console shelf where he’d had his feet propped.

“Shit!” He rubbed his knee. “Margo, turn that damn volume down, I’m awake.”

“Yes Sir. I see that.” The sound lowered to a comfortable level.

“Notify Gale Murchison that the signal’s returned.”

“I have started ringing her com set. She disabled her transducer for the night. No reply as of yet.”

Still rubbing his knee, he wondered why the colony leader thought the AI was incapable of handling this monitoring task on its own. The boss was already being notified, so he was redundant here. He could have been in his residence hall, asleep in his own bed.

“Is it the same as before?” He asked.

“If you mean the main signal content Sir, then yes. Although it started slightly different, as did each of the last two, with what I believe is a change to a single word in this unusual language. Perhaps the different word in the first sentence of each message is the number of the message. If so, then I have four possible vocabulary words for the numbers one through four, assuming it is counting up.”

Underwhelmed, he answered, “Gee. That’s great to know. Now we can have a very limited chat with a two year old of whatever species is sending this.” He wondered if it might be a countdown, instead of an incrementing message count. Intuition is something AI’s don’t have, but it was merely a sour mood guess on his part, as he rubbed his bruised knee.

The three previous transmissions had each lasted almost ten minutes, and appeared to originate from one steady point in a daylight sky, at an indeterminate distance. It wasn’t coming from a ship in low orbit, because the direction from which the signal arrived didn’t change at all over the ten minutes. For that reason, at first it was believed that it originated as far out as a geosynchronous orbit, which was at around 22,600 miles for this 15% higher gravity world than Earth.

That suggestion was refuted when Margo told them the origin of the signal was not from an equatorial location, as it would be for a true geosynchronous orbit. The angle of the signal came from directly over Elysium, which was built at the middle latitude of 33.7 degrees.

For the signal to stay perfectly over them for ten minutes, the source required an acceleration to hold its position as the world rotated. The cash poor colony only had a single shuttle for its daily use, good for low orbital work, and travel between the other three smaller towns scattered on this same continent. Its capability would be stretched to its limit to try to reach as high as 22,600 miles for an investigation. The only small telescope in the entire colony was privately owned, and it hadn’t revealed any object directly overhead in the daytime sky, for the last two repetitions of the signal. But a bright sky wasn’t conducive for using a hobbyist’s small optical telescope.

From this, it was assumed the presumed ship wasn’t even as close as 22,600 miles and might not actually be that close at all. Only, it would need greater speed to hold station for ten minutes over the town if it was considerably farther away. The Kobani supply ships could easily manage this, out to a few hundred thousand miles, as could any navy vessel. Commercial ships were not found this far from Human Space, and the next chartered Kobani supply ship wasn’t due for over two standard weeks.

The colony AI had a library of all of the languages of each of the Federation members, and for the two Krall languages, high and low versions. The Raspani had once spoken various dialects and versions of their original languages when their civilization fell to the Krall, but now, with other races to communicate with, they had simplified and settled on the most widely used of their old languages. These were of no help at all in deciphering the message.

The mysterious transmissions were not encrypted; they were simply in an unknown language, with no parallel to languages known to the AI. The sender had never responded to colony attempts to communicate when their transmission ended, and the absence of White Out gamma ray bursts suggested a Jump ship with advanced T-cubed technology, like the Dismantlers and Kobani ships. After nine minutes forty-two seconds, the identical length of each of the first three signals, they ended and those responsible didn’t reply to transmissions sent back in the same direction, spoken in Standard. The first three messages arrived at intervals that were a bit over four and a quarter Paradise days apart. The three messages, which all arrived in daylight, came hours later in the day each time they were sent.

The AI claimed to recognize a pattern of sentence structure, and clear word groupings, and parts of some sentences and words were repeated more than once. It seemed to be spoken speech, but apparently prerecorded, and it displayed a multipart structure with no clicks or hard consonants, and had what some listeners described as a “bugling” quality, with simultaneous notes intertwining, but it didn’t sound musical. It certainly wasn’t a known speech pattern.

Peshawar, feeling useless in the face of the AI having already contacted the only person he had been instructed to notify, stepped out of the shack into the cool night air. The com shack was located on the edge of the colony’s town landing pad, near the shuttle.

Neither of the small moons were above the horizon right now, and the only light, besides the glowing band of the Milky Way, came from scattered windows of the fifteen residence halls and entryway lights of the few dozen work buildings. There were a few forgotten lights in workshops that glowed dimly through grimy windows.

As most of the colonists did at night, if not too exhausted to drop immediately into bed, he looked up. He was always impressed by the Milky Way’s pale glowing band of stars and dark nebulae, seen prominently here where there was no back scattered surface lights to cause an obscuring sky glow, as near established cities on most human worlds.

He quickly discovered what the AI had missed tonight with its sensors, as it was probably focused on the radio message contents. There was a noticeable blanked out region of the band of galactic core stars, right above the town. The size of the blotted out region couldn’t be easily estimated, not without knowing something about the object and its distance. To Peshawar, it conveyed an impression of something immense, because he assumed it was far above the atmosphere. He tapped his transducer to talk to Margo, only to discover that Murchison was linked with the AI, and was trying to reach him.

“Pesh, there you are. Margo said you were outside of the com shack with your transducer off. What were you doing? I need you to lift off in the shuttle right away, to see if we can triangulate how far away the transmitter source is, before the signal ends.”

“Gale, I can see it this time. It’s a dark triangular shape, and it blots out some of the Milky Way overhead.”

“Blimey! How far up is it? Is it a ship?”

“Can’t say. It’s either immense and at orbital height, gigantic and in the upper atmosphere, or much smaller and low down. If small and lower, it’s likely the size of a normal ship or a drone.”

“Quick, get to the shuttle and fly off to the side for the triangulation. Margo has my authorization code to start a preflight for you to save you a few minutes. With the shuttle, we can use their radio signal direction, as well as a visual recording of their position to get a triangulation angle for a size and distance measurement. Be sure to record everything with the sensors.”

She shifted to issuing instructions to the AI. “Margo, select whatever frequency they’re using and let me try to speak to them before the end of their message. They might decide to leave again as soon as the recording is finished, so I’m not doing to wait this time.”

Tolvert started running towards the shuttle, as he saw the side hatch open and the external lights activated, which then flicked on and off in a pattern, as part of the AI conducting the preflight check. He was a few hundred feet away from the com shack when he heard a soft pop behind him, followed by a loud rush of air past him, which diminished rapidly.

He looked back, and the shack was gone, with a large gray mist spreading up and away, drifting on the evening breeze. In the starlight, he saw what looked like a dark circle drawn on the pavement where the shack had been. Suddenly, the image shifted into proper perspective for him, and he realized there was a round pit where the shack had been, not a dark circle on the surface.

“Pesh, did you kill the power in the com shack? Margo said the transmitter and receiver circuits quit feeding her data, and…” Pesh interrupted her.

“Gale, the shack is gone! There’s a hole in the ground where it was.”

Another soft pop sounded, with a slightly weaker sound of rushing air. That too was behind him because he had turned around to face where the com shack had vanished.

He knew before he turned to look, that the shuttle had just vanished in a puff of air. There was a smaller sized circular pit where it had been parked, and misty gas spread from where the craft had been.

“Gale, sound an alert. I think we should get everyone away from the settlement. The shuttle also just vanished, leaving only another hole in the ground and a burst of gas, just like the com shack did. I think we’re under attack by some sort of weapon from that triangle shaped object.”

“You could be right. All we have are fire and severe weather alarms. I think only a fire would get them out of the buildings. Margo, sound all of the fire alarms and send a broadcast message to each person’s transdu…” Her voice cut off in mid transmission.

The sound of distant pops, unaccompanied by flashes, reached Tolvert just as he heard the fire alarms. One of those pops, and a burst of gray gas, came from the main administration building, where Gale’s personal quarters were located on the second floor of the low four-story extruded plastic building. That was so the colony leader could always be at the center of activity, coordinating the work to be done day or night. He knew she had just been at the center of unexpected deadly activity, and was now part of the gasses he saw expanding from there.

There also were rapid multiple bursts of wispy mists from the residence halls, which jetted out through ruptured windows or missing walls from the internal gas pressures. Parts of the buildings fell into spherical voids that suddenly appeared at the base of the structures, others at points well above ground level. The material of the building’s walls and rooftops fell inwards, dropping below ground level. There were no basements under these buildings, so the pits they fell into had obviously just formed.

Tolvert stood frozen in horror for long seconds, as he realized every building, and everyone in the small colony, was being systematically vaporized by some bizarre weapon. It arrived invisibly and struck suddenly from within the structures, and disintegrated the material in a spherical volume hundreds of feet in diameter, making only a deceptively soft sounding “pop,” followed by the sudden expansion of the gasses thus formed. He glanced up at the triangle shape, and it looked exactly as before, a shadow blocking starlight. He knew whoever was in that thing, or controlled it, was killing everyone and destroying everything in the town, without mercy or warning.

Or had the transmissions been some sort of warning, which they couldn’t understand? How could they understand? It wasn’t sent in any language they knew.

Along with the shock of the mass killings, happening as he watched helplessly, came a dose of reality and a desire to survive. Tolvert, turned and ran at a right angle to the path he’d followed towards the shuttle, racing between the animal pens of GMO cattle, sheep, and pigs, kept away from the town for odor reduction. He barely noticed the smell now, and his lungs gasped for air to feed his clone mod enhanced muscles, suitable for the 1.15 standard gravity world. He was running faster than he’d ever ran in his life, and when he heard a pop off to his left, in a cattle pen, he knew it wasn’t fast enough.

The snorting and grunting noise came from animals for which a nearby mild pop sound wasn’t as alarming to them as was the sudden puff of gas that briefly enveloped those at the edge of a circular pit. On the other hand, or hoof, terrified bellowing and an extremely improbable sounding screech from a cow was a testament to the pain and confusion that one cow experienced. Her rear quarter had vanished, and she fell backwards, entrails and organs spilling, into a newly formed shallow pit.

More pops, puffs, snorts, grunts, and bellows, but no more screeches, followed from the cattle pen. Those were accompanied by species varied equivalent sounds of alarm from the pig and sheep pens, as they too were assaulted.

Tolvert assumed he too was, or would be a target, and he desperately looked around as he ran, seeking a place to hide. Although, the buildings of the residence halls hadn’t protected or concealed the others very well. He ran past a drain cover’s grillwork in the paved walkway he was running along. He slid to a halt as he quickly backtracked in a panic. He bruised his fingers as he jammed them into the grid work of the iron cover, and tilted the seventy-pound weight onto one side. He raised it enough to drop through, and let it fall back into place with a deafening clang. There was only a five-foot drop to the bottom of the rain drainage culvert. Something he knew about, because he’d help lay this drain line. It was one of his assigned work tasks, right after they experienced their first heavy rains on Paradise, which had flooded the new streets laid out for the future town, when they still lived in Smart Fabric tents.

The town’s storm drains, all of them dry tonight, led to a large creek, or shallow river, depending on your definitions, about a half mile from the animal pens. It was too low inside for him to stand in the culvert, but he could scurry in a bent over position. He made it all the way to the open end, located in the stream bank, eight feet above the slowly flowing thigh deep water. Upstream, it went into the forests that surrounded the town on two sides, and it was clean, cold, and clear water that originated as mountain snowmelt, coming out of some foothills where the forest ended. A few miles downstream of the drain outlet, the creek led to a larger, muddy, and wide river, well away from the cover of the rather Earth-like forest. Shivering, he waded upstream and vanished into the woods, accompanied by the distant sounds of continuing soft pops, and the sounds of animals screaming and bellowing in distress.

****

Mirikami was stunned. “Under attack, and Margo was cut off? How much did the AI say about the attack before then? They can send even faster than we can via Comtaps.”

Thad shrugged. “The data started out as an automatic report, saying they were getting a repeat of the same message format that Paradise reported previously. Margo was using Instellarnet, via a Prada link the colonies all take with them. The link was located in their administrative building. The first strike was apparently on their communications center, when Gale tried to talk to them via radio, routed from the antenna out there.”

“Communications center? When did they have time to build that? All I saw last month when we delivered supplies was a Smart Plastic cube, ten feet on a side, by the landing pad.”

“OK, fine. The colonists called it a com shack, and the AI said communications center. So sue Margo for its AI precision. The com shack is what was hit first, according to the transducer report from the watch stander, a Peshawar Tolvert, who was enroute to their shuttle when it happened, and then he said the shuttle was hit the same way.”

“Do we have the recording of the transducer reports he made? We might pick up on the sounds of the explosions he heard.”

“That wasn’t recorded, but what he said was passed along, and knowing an AI, it was probably repeated verbatim. According to his description, the shack and shuttle both vanished in bursts of gas, leaving holes in the ground. He thought it was an attack from a triangle shaped object in the sky. He thought it might be very large. Gale was talking when her transmission cut off, and the AI finally recognized the urgency and it sent everything that had been said through Instellarnet. You heard her last word, cut off as I think she was telling the AI to warn everyone via their transducers, once the fire alarms had them awake. I hope only the link was cut, but I fear the worst. That Prada com device address isn’t online now. None of the smaller prospecting outposts have anything but local radios, and they would be out of transducer range of anyone in Elysium.”

“Alright then, we need to send enough armed ships to find out what happened, and render any aid we can. I’ll have Maggi organize and collect some relief and medical supplies, and leave after us. It’s only a twenty-six hour Jump, but she can probably get underway before we even arrive.”

“Who are we taking?”

“The Mark, of course, your ship the Ripper, Sarge’s ship, the Sneaky Bastard, Avenger with Noreen and Dillon, Carson and Ethan on Wanderer, Maggi will captain the Vanguard when it comes a day later. How many do you think we should take altogether?”

“At least ten ships, all armed to the teeth, and we spread them out so we don’t make a cluster target when we arrive. We still make a blast of gamma rays on arrival, at least until we make the software changes Max’s team tested last week. Unfortunately, we can’t wait that long for the production version trials. I think we’re about to meet a high tech opponent, since that triangle craft didn’t produce gamma rays.”

The captured Krall clanships would never have the fine control of their event horizons as did the Dismantlers, with their many millions of tiny Trap field emitters spread all around their hulls. Yet, Max Born and his team of physicists had discovered how the Olt’kitapi had managed to “swallow up” their own gamma ray bursts at a White Out.

If they maintained two of the three layer event horizons a few millionths of a second longer, as they rotated out of T-cubed, T-squared, and finally the single rotation out of level one Tachyon Space, they could draw each successive wave of photons inward, rather than releasing them outward into Normal Space.

By doing this, all of the gamma rays generated would be drawn into the event horizon of each staged rotation out of Tachyon Space, allowing precisely for the light travel time and the space-time curvature of gravity to pull the high-energy gamma ray photons into Tachyon Space. T-cubed travel wasn’t difficult to achieve with the proper hardware mods, but preventing gamma rays required exact timing adjustments by the software, which the Olt’kitapi had written for the quantum computers that were specifically designed to operate the clanships. Humans had previously learned from Pholowela how to code to do the third rotation into Tachyon Space for T-cubed travel, and this was a refinement of that knowledge.

The skill to rewrite the Olt’kitapi code was being mastered by human scientists, something that even the Raspani and Torki had to learn how to do from them. It had always seemed too risky to try adjusting something the Raspani and the Torki didn’t fully understand, and they were slow to try risky experiments to learn new tricks. The Olt’kitapi had spent a very long time before developing that capability, proof that they too had been cautious.

The human attitude seemed to be; “Well, if we don’t try, we won’t know. The worst that can happen is it will kill us.” Despite this cavalier attitude, there still were willing test pilots ready to take calculated chances.

Fortunately, with human AI’s available, a technology that had never occurred to the Torki and Raspani, and the Krall had declared it a form of weakness to the Prada, there was no risk of human life for the early trials. Some of the first test craft failed to rotate back to Normal Space, but after recent repeat successes, human pilots were about to fly with the new software. But not this week.

A short time later, ten ships, with a full load-out of anti-ship missiles, one Nova missile, and a number of stealthed mines, the flotilla winked out of Normal Space for the twenty-six hour Jump to Paradise, only five hours after the first report of the attack.

****

The Mark was the only ship that selected a White Out point two hundred miles above the town of Elysium, with the remaining nine ships spread out at longer ranges all around the planet, weapons at the ready, everyone linked into a group Comtap circuit.

“Anyone see anything on active scans?” Mirikami asked.

Several had a report. Carson spoke first. “Their communications satellites are still up, but would we even see a stealthed ship? We see the small camps of prospectors. They actually seem to be working as usual, as if nothing happened.”

“The main transmitter is down, and the attack came at night. They might not know about the attack. The only witness saw a dark triangular shape blocking stars, and that was by naked eye at night. At least it apparently wasn’t stealthed during the attack.”

There was a pause, before Mirikami delivered the bad news. “Almost the entire town is gone. Even the animal feedlots have numerous pits of various sizes in them. I see a deep pit where the com shack was, and a smaller one about where the shuttle may have been parked, which match with the only visual observation of the start of the attack. From all the pits I see, and the small amount of debris, it looks as if almost everything was disintegrated. I don't see anything moving down there, other than a few local birds. It’s peaceful appearing right now.”

“Yea. The peace of the dead,” muttered Sarge.

“I’m descending. I’ll leave Jake in control for even faster navigation control if any of you spot anything threatening.” Then the Mark started down quietly, on Normal Space drive.

As the ship drew within a quarter mile altitude, Mirikami, using zoom on his screens, noted something. “The pits in the ground are perfectly semispherical on the sides, to various depths, from a hundred feet to only a few feet deep. Except where the walls or roofs fell into them and gouged the sides. They aren’t heat glazed as if from a laser, and I haven’t seen any sign of fires, or even blast damage spread over a wide area. The buildings were all made of extruded Smart Plastic, and the roofs, which had slight peaks for better water runoff in this rainy region, look to be intact. I don't see any holes in them, where a projectile or a beam entered from above, to vaporize the structure and contents. It looks like the buildings were gutted from the inside, by a weapon that made no entry holes.”

The Mark set down silently, the only noise coming from the whoosh of the four portals, as they rushed up into their recesses. Five hundred Kobani, armored and stealthed, merely kicked up some dust as they deployed, leaping out and spreading towards the destroyed town, with a few tracks leading to the two pits on the paved tarmac, and some others going towards the animal pens.

Only platoon leaders were authorized to make reports, unless hostile opposition was encountered. It stayed mostly silent, except for platoon leader comments.

“The sections of roofs and walls, those that are still partly intact, have circular cuts removed from them, which have a similar radius to the pits in the ground.”

“There are some dead animals, cleaved in half, or some along their length, which fell into the pits here in the pens.”

“I found a hand and a foot. Both lying on the ground, under a half collapsed building portico.”

“Hold it.” It was Mirikami. “Who found the human remains?”

“It was Jorl, Captain.” Jorl Breaker flashed his suit’s icon for everyone to see on his or her visors.

On the map overlay they all had for the town’s layout, as recorded during the previous month’s supply delivery, Jorl was standing right at one of the four entrances to a residence hall, where a rain and sun awning had stood, over a set of double doors.

“Everyone else continue searching for survivors. I’ll join you Jorl. Remember, each of us needs to continue to send images and reports back to Haven and the other ships.” If they were attacked, there would be a more complete record for those that followed.

“Alyson, you and Jakob have the ship.” He leaped over the railing, and dropped easily the eighteen feet to the next deck, the 1.15 g’s of Paradise of no concern. He leaped down the stairs, barely pausing to touch the landings as he descended faster than he could have fallen, using the side rails to pull himself down faster than gravity or the ship’s lift system would have allowed.

In minutes, he was at Jorl’s side, looking at the remains. There was a right-angled metal frame, with a cleanly sliced bit of glass still attached, lying next to the front part of a bare right foot and a slice of the shin and part of its bone. There wasn’t much blood from that small amount of tissue. The heel and entire rear of the shin bone and calf muscle was missing, not to mention the remainder of the body.

Jorl, without a word, lifted the fallen rear edge of the canopy, which had been attached to the vanished building. Under it, there was a left hand on the walkway, fingers curled, and an inch of the wrist. Both appendages were cut as if a razor had done that, with no tearing or ripping of soft tissue, or any burns showing at the edges of the wounds.

Leaving the body parts where they were, Mirikami picked up the piece of metal and glass. He held it upright close to the ground, a couple of feet from where the building entrance had been. Thought a moment, moved it slightly and angled it a bit.

He nodded, and pointed at the foot and hand. “The poor bastard almost made it out of the building. This piece is from the bottom corner of the right side door when it swung open, and I think his right foot was next to the open door as he flung it open, when whatever killed him, and vaporized his body and the rest of the door, suddenly struck. I suppose his left hand was extended, along with his right foot, in an all-out dash to get clear.”

“I took a picture of the finger tips and thumb for Jakob, to see if there might be a left hand print on file back on Haven. All of the first colonists passed through Haven for citizenship ceremonies, and we might have more than DNA and retinal scans for this one. Most of them accepted the clone mods for the slightly higher gravity here, and we may have a full body scan of the man.” The large hand, rough nails, and big hairy knuckled toes certainly suggested a male, or a less than a delicate flower of a female colonist.

They were still looking down into the closest hundred-foot pit, of varying depth pits that covered the building’s former “footprint” on the surface, when Jacob linked.

“Sir, the hand belonged to a Neil Falstaff, from New Australia, who had received cone mods on Haven. It is probable that the foot will match, but there is no footprint recorded for him. He was single, with no family with him on Paradise.”

Mirikami pulled at his lip. “I suppose his clone mods, and perhaps an apartment close to the exit let him almost get out of the building in time. I don't think, coming in the middle of the night as it did, that anyone had much chance of an escape. I think these multiple pits hit in rapid succession, and for a multistory building like this one, they came at varying levels throughout the structure. That’s why there’s so little left. Most of it was converted to vapor in a sphere.”

“What makes you say that, Sir? I’ve not heard of a weapon like that.”

“You have, but not in this sort of application. I used my visor to measure this pit, its depth where I can see it, and its width. It’s almost a complete hemisphere. Divide the width in half and what do you come up with?”

Jorl looked, obviously using his visor ranging and measuring system. “Uh…, it’s roughly two hundred forty feet across, which is a hundred twenty foot radius.”

He thought a moment, knowing Mirikami said that its radius was significant. “Oh. It’s about the same as the radius of the fifth force that applies to the Denial chip effective range.

“Very good, but that isn’t the only device we know of that has that unusual short range.”

“Right, the Olt’kitapi Katusha’s, and the…” the realization hit him. “The Raspani Q-rupters! Which the Krall placed in warheads of their Worm missiles, to disintegrate their way through ship hulls and bulkheads.”

“Exactly. The hundred twenty-two feet and a few inches of that quantum weapon matches the radius of the damage done here. Someone knows how to make that breaking of quantum electromagnetic bonds operate with a spherical effect, and not just in a beam like a Q-rupter uses. The hundreds of them used here don’t seem to have used a boring effect to reach the interior of the target areas. No entry holes. I could be wrong, but they simply seem to have appeared inside the buildings. The matter in a two-hundred forty-four foot diameter sphere was suddenly converted to atomized gases, which would then burst away from their points of origin. If tightly confined, I suppose the gas pressure would be very forceful.”

“Then we might not find any survivors, and if the weapon disintegrates itself, there won’t be any sign of that either.”

“I don’t want to give up on survivors yet. They might not all have been indoors, and others may have been faster than poor Neil. We’ll send ships to the four outposts, but if they were not attacked, their remote locations may have left them literally in the dark.”

“Captain, we may have spotted an escape path for someone out here by the animal pens.” Mirikami’s visor told him it was Bill Saber, one of his platoon leaders.

“What do you have?” Even as he asked, his Comtap showed him the image of a square iron storm grate, with one side caught on the lip and not flush with the walkway.

“I see it. Lift it and check inside. It may be large enough to crawl though.”

He saw Bill’s hand move the cover aside easily, and the point of view dropped suddenly and he was seeing an infrared visor view of the inside of a four-foot high round culvert pipe. A warmer spot in the distance suggested the outlet. Bill stood up, and the above ground view went through some trees and towards what their map of the area indicated was a small stream.

“OK, Bill. Take your people and look for anyone that may have used that route to escape. If you need a shuttle, let Alyson know, and we’ll send it out to help you search a wider area.”

“Will do, Sir.”

Mirikami resumed looking into the irregular pits around this former residence hall, and walked past two others. He noticed the surveillance camera bubble covers at the corners of the surviving roofs.

“Jacob, my visor is zoomed in on a camera cover. There was one at each corner of many of the buildings. Do you have a record of what their capability was?”

There was barely a second of delay. “The records on Haven indicate they would have fed to the colony AI, which was housed in the Administrating Building, near where Gale Murchison’s quarters were. We can see that this building was thoroughly demolished, and the core memory of their AI was in there. It is not likely that any portion of that memory will be available to recover, Sir.”

“Jacob, I was asking about the cameras themselves. Do they have any internal storage, in the event their link to the AI was severed?”

“I apologize for misunderstanding, Sir. The cameras may have some storage, depending on the models installed, and they could have had directional adjustment under user control. If you remove the covers and show me the make and model numbers, I can tell you.”

Mirikami had Jorl send his people down into the pits to clamber over the fallen roofs, which were conveniently at the top of all of the leftover debris. Every camera model happened to have internal storage, for almost an hour of data, and each was mounted on powered gimbals for directional control.

The exciting part was Jorl’s report from his people. “Captain, some cameras had been directed up at the sky.”

“Contact the other platoon leaders. I want every pile of wreckage searched for those cameras, and have them brought to the Mark. I’ll take the four you have from this building with me.”

Within an hour, they had usable images from over thirty cameras, half of which were directed at the sky directly overhead. They all showed some stars blocked out from the band of the Milky Way, by a dark triangular shaped object, which Jakob said had rounded rather than sharp corners and edges. Then, from two cameras, located on far sides of Elysium from each other, nearly a mile and a half a part, Jakob obtained an estimate of the objects distance, and thus a measure of its size.

The ship, or perhaps a Jump capable orbital station might be a better term for something so large, was nearly a mile and a quarter per equilateral side, or roughly two kilometers on a side. It was damned large, and seen only from below, its thickness was unknowable. If it were a three-sided pyramid, it was even vaster. There were no images recorded as it had arrived, but solid evidence that it had Jumped where it was seen came when it departed. There was a slight Einstein effect at the edges as the event horizon formed, and that horizon was not spherical, as it had to be for clanships as they entered T-cubed Space. For this craft, the event horizon conformed to the shape of the hull, as was the case for the far smaller Dismantler ships, when they Jumped.

Part of the camera images were taken while the attack was underway, but there were no flashes, in visible or infrared light emitted from the triangle. That the attack was underway was born out by the cameras that were not directed skyward. The collapse of buildings, showing lights at windows suddenly vanishing, and spurts of gas that blew out the glass, or sometimes the whole window frame flew away, showed just how rapidly the bursts arrived.

Virtually every building was involved simultaneously, revealing a massive rate of firepower, which lasted only a minute or so. The final hits over the next ten minutes appeared to be follow-on shots, to eliminate pockets of thicker debris where there might have been a possibility that someone had escaped death. There was obviously no desire to permit survivors to crawl out of the wreckage.

Right at the start of the general bombardment, one camera on a building corner had suddenly pivoted out towards the com shack and shuttle, both of which were already expanding gases before the camera was pointed that way. However, an infrared figure in the dark could be seen running along a pathway towards the animal pens, just as the pits and gas sprays started forming among the animals. The figure was lost among the gray clouds drifting on the breeze. It was probably the watch stander, Peshawar Tolvert, and he had been headed directly towards where the storm grate was discovered out of place. He may have escaped, and rescuing him moved to an even higher priority now.

Sarge soon had a report of interest. “Tet, I took the Sneaky Bastard out a light day and a half, and Grumpy, my AI, detected a gravitational ripple spreading away from Paradise. That would be from something massive entering a Jump Hole the night of the attack. I reentered Tachyon space and traced a weakening tachyon wake for long enough to know that a massive object caused it, and had traveled in the spinward direction toward the Sagittarius arm. That places their trail away from here well beyond where the Orion Spur branches off the major arm, which means the attackers were not our close neighbors.”

“Interesting. I want to gather a bit more data here, and make a call to our Disrupter friends. They may have encountered this language before, and could possibly provide a translation of that long repeated message.”

It was late in the day before a low and slow flying shuttle craft spotted a tendril of smoke, rising from the deep woods, nearly eight miles from Elysium, close to the small river. It wasn’t a natural wild fire, because it was so small and localized, and there had been light rain, but no lightening to spark a fire.

Using an external speaker, a voice speaking Standard did what the high pitch sound of the shuttle’s reaction thrusters had not done. It brought Tolvert out of hiding. He’d feared the aliens had come looking for him up close, because they had tried a couple of times to “pop” him, as he described it, while he was in the creek waters. Apparently, the cool water provided some level of protection from detection, if he stayed prone and moving, resting only under places where the bank was undercut, and jutted out overhead with tree roots holding it in place.

When he was picked up he wasn’t thirsty, not with the clear cold stream water he’d had, but he was starting to get hungry. He spoke around a sandwich.

“They hunted me for at least an hour after they killed the last of the penned animals. I don't know why they killed those. Did they hit the mining outposts?”

‘No, and our first contact with them was an hour ago, which is when they learned why Elysium had gone quiet.”

“At first I thought they were after just us colonists, but they also killed our livestock. Why kill the animals?”

“Perhaps they weren’t sure they were animals,” Mirikami said. “Some of our alien allies looked like animals to us initially, so they may have decided to kill anything living in or around the town. You said they tried to pop you. What do you mean by that term?”

“The sound of that weapon, when it first goes off, makes a soft sort of popping sound, like a half inflated weather balloon rupturing. Then there’s a rush of air, or gasses away from the center. That must be from whatever was in range of the effect that vaporized anything it touched. I got to see that happen up close, twice, when water in the stream suddenly seemed to explode out in a spray of mist, and then water would flow back into the big hole just created in the streambed.

“I finally figured out they knew which way I went from the landing pad, but couldn’t find me when I was in the culvert and the cold water. They mistakenly targeted some animals that we started calling a water dog, which lives in and along this stream. They’re sort of like a black otter, but longer and skinnier, about five feet long if you include their vertically flat swimmer tail. I scared some of them out of their den holes as I tried to stay under cover by the banks and under the trees, and I kept mostly submerged in the cold water. I believe their heat signature drew the attention of the aliens. The water dogs swam away from me in fear, moving to the center of the stream where there was less leaf and limb coverage over them. It was after the second time that I decided to stop moving and spooking the water dogs, since that might have helped them track me.”

“How long before you felt safe enough to get out of the stream? Why did you feel safe?”

“When I couldn’t see the ship’s silhouette anymore against the stars. It never moved the entire time of the attack. I didn’t know how close it was, or how large.” He held out his hands, using index fingers and thumbs, not touching, to indicate the scale of the triangle he saw overhead.

Mirikami nodded, “It was more than a mile long per side, or just over two kilometers, so it was pretty far up, to appear that small to you. They had good targeting to hit those water dogs from that distance. Did you see anything like a missile or projectile, when they fired at the town or animals?”

“No, the triangle stayed completely dark, and I didn’t see any beams or tracks leading down from it. I didn’t see when it left either because I assumed, if I could see it, they might see the warmth of my face. Even when I checked quickly, after another hour, and saw it was gone or had moved, I stayed in hiding under overhanging tree roots but out of the water, until daylight The cold from that mountain stream runoff had made me hypothermic, despite my cold adaptation mod. I’d not have made it without the clone gene mods. I have to say, Kobani mods appeal to me more than ever.”

Mirikami grunted. “With our high metabolism your body heat could have made you a better target. At least without this stealth armor activated.” He tapped his unstealthed suit. “Although, you’d be a harder target to hit if you moved fast and changed directions, until you reached that cold stream. You made a fire later, which helped us find you. You apparently have some woodsman skills. Not many people could make a fire by hand today.”

He grinned self-consciously. “I had a fire starter kit, like most of us here carried if we ventured into the forest. With only one shuttle, we couldn’t run much of a search if anyone got lost. I made a small fire, but damp tinder and wood made it smoky. I thought I’d drawn them to me when I heard your shuttle. How many other survivors from Elysium have you found?”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Trevor shook his head. “That’s kind of what I figured. I don't think they intended to leave anyone here alive. Not even our animals. They were only halfway through their fourth broadcast when Gale tried to talk to them. That must have been some sort of trigger for them, because the first thing they hit was the radio antenna at the com shack, where they may have thought she was located. I was on my way to the shuttle, which our AI had remotely started a preflight for me. I guess they saw that and popped it next, and then as the fire alarms started, to get people to wake up and evacuate, hundreds of pops started sounding from every building at the same time. They were frigging slaughtered in their sleep.”

Pesh finally broke down at the relief of having survived, and from thinking of all of his friends and comrades that had died. Alyson comforted the man as he sobbed, while the men felt uncomfortable. Not knowing him well, they weren’t sure if he’d welcome or possibly resent their attempts at sympathy, coming for a loss they hadn’t shared, and couldn’t feel as deeply for people they had not known.

Mirikami stepped away, to talk about what else had been learned from the ruins of the town, and to consider their next steps, and his captains went with him.

“That was a very big ship, and it could easily carry all of the ten ships we brought with us, assuming it had hangers or holds for that. I don’t know if ten ships sent looking in the direction it went is enough to appear intimidating.”

“We, and the Krall, have made good use of these Olt’kitapi designs.” Noreen pointed out. “Appearances can be deceiving.”

“True, but my point is, it was gigantic, and had a very potent weapon, with a high rate of fire, and reasonable accuracy. With a so-called blast radius of less than two hundred fifty feet, the warhead isn’t hugely destructive, but it uses a delivery system that doesn’t require direct penetration of the surface of the target. Like the Nova missiles that use a Jump intersect. Therefore, armored hulls would be of little use. We don’t know about their stealth capability, but it didn’t use it here as far as we can tell, other than lights off. Since they attacked, I think if they had stealth it would have been used, at least if they expected return fire. I think they knew the people here were defenseless and didn’t bother to hide. I wonder if they have good stealth detection?”

Sarge spoke for his ship and crew, of the Sneaky Bastard. “I’m all for going looking for them right now. Of course, I’d want to sneak in stealthy, guns and missiles at the ready. We’d have to use some planet or moon to mask our gamma rays on this expedition.”

Thad preferred to wait. “We’ll have the problem of noisy White Out’s solved soon, and we need to go in with enough strength to matter to anyone, or anything we meet. We need more than ten ships, and some more powerful and unstoppable weapons. We can make our own Novae bombs, using Krall single ships. They have remote control capability by the AIs in our own ships, and we can install basic Jump drive capability if there’s no pilot or life support inside. All they have to do is simply Jump and materialize, rotating into Normal Space inside solid matter, blowing a big hole in even a mile wide ship.”

Jorl was puzzled. “I thought there was an interlock that prevented intersects by Krall ships with objects with that much mass?”

Dillon smiled. “And we take the interlocks out of our captured clanships, because we’re not as suicidal or careless as a Krall warrior. I’m not so sure about some of you youngsters, however. Our human made Novae’s don’t have mass interlocks either.”

Jakob intervened to tell them the Vanguard, with Maggi at the helm, had just performed a White Out a hundred fifty miles above what was left of Elysium.

“Tet, I have Coldar and Blue aboard, and some news about who might have conducted this attack.” Using Comtap, she had known the colony had been destroyed before the Vanguard had even Jumped.

“I expect Pholowela to arrive at any moment, because I spoke to her while in transit. She was only six and a half T-cubed travel hours away from Paradise. If you have a recording of the previous messages to the colony, she may be able to identify the species of the speaker, and tell us what was said. The triangular description of the spacecraft’s base is consistent with pyramidal designs once used by a species they said was called the Thandol, who use a base four number system. This ship appears to follow a preferred pattern for this species, except it was considerably larger than ship versions of theirs encountered in the distant past. She thinks they are likely to be a people that the Olt’kitapi considered untrustworthy, and with whom they would not share technology, or trade with them. They are the reason the Olt’kitapi wanted the Krall to become their protectors.”

Chapter 13: The Thandol

Mirikami summarized what they learned from Pholowela and her sister ships so far, but only in an outline form. “So the Thandol were at least as old a star faring species as the Olt’kitapi when they first met, their empire includes multiple subject species, which they forcibly annexed as citizens as they expanded to surround them. Once annexed, they’re expected to behave subservient to the Thandol, and are considered social and intellectual inferiors.”

Maggi added her thoughts. “Sounds rather like they have a gentler form of the Krall superiority complex, and don’t kill off their conquests. They don’t often make outright war, but use their technological advantages and economic power to bully other races into accepting restrictions on their expansion, and limit their participation in the empire. If they object too strenuously, they are isolated, and forcibly blocked from trade with other worlds. In short, strangled.”

Then she added what she’d discussed with Pholowela while she was in transit to Paradise. “A few younger and more assertive races had a modest number of colonies when the Thandol expansion reached and went around them, and they were granted a bit higher status than some less developed species. They are used to keep the weakest species in their place, and are played against each other at times, with Thandol military action taken if need be. The overlords normally pretend to keep their hands clean while their three regional security forces do the dirty work to suppress rebellion. The Thandol built numerous warships of their own to keep everyone in line, and they prevent military build ups of their subject races, even limiting the forces and technology of those they granted greater roles in keeping order.”

Thad spoke to Pholowela, who had remained in synchronous orbit over Elysium. There was no physiological motivation for her to land for a face-to-face conference if she had no face.

“Do you have any clues as to why the Thandol delayed absorbing the Olt’kitapi territory after they were destroyed by the Krall? I mean immediately after your creators were beaten by the Krall, when those warriors were surely weaker then, than they were when humans ran into them twenty thousand years later. By this era, the Krall had sixteen more conquests under their belts, the added military technology they captured, not to mention those thousands of years of physical evolution and selective breeding that made them tougher and harder to kill.”

“No, friend Thad, we don’t know why they waited then, and apparently are ready to confront you now. My sister ships and I were new back then, and had little exposure to other species. We spent all of our time analyzing the great construction tasks our builders intended us to start soon, and we studied multiple giant worlds for building materials, always in uninhabited red dwarf star systems.

“We did not meet the species that were to be invited to participate in habitat construction, other than the security force being formed of the Krall, and the newly changed Krall’tapi. The Krall race had never advanced very far scientifically or socially, and had never left their original world before my creators found them.

“Checking our databases after receiving your requests, my sisters and I believe the Thandol were the next most aggressive species the Olt’kitapi had met, with the possible exception of the Botolians. The latter race had a low population and a small territory, and their only powerful weapon was the condensed matter balls. Unlike the Thandol and Olt’kitapi, they did not have advanced quantum mechanical technology.

“We think the Thandol were cautious concerning the ultra-aggressive Krall, and when their revolt against our makers was successful, it was clear that technology alone was not a deterrent to such an irrational enemy. Not even the destruction of the single Krall home world was enough to defeat them, and that destruction was accomplished using two technologies the Thandol did not have then. The Dismantler’s gravity projectors and quantum computers to direct and control them precisely.

“It seems probable they believed the Krall had acquired full control of Olt’kitapi technology after the revolt, including the ability to destroy planets with gravity projectors. Something the Thandol could not know that my sister ships were tricked into using, in Krall wars that soon followed.

The Thandol had been specifically told of the DNA based quantum key system needed to use the most advanced Olt’kitapi technology, and of the weapons provided to the Krall and Krall’tapi. This was told to them and demonstrated, to prove to them that they couldn’t steal operational weapons or tools, and to dissuade them from aggression.

“They must think that humans do not have the quantum key system to operate Olt’kitapi gravity projectors. In effect you actually do not for the projectors, because my sister ships and I will never yield control of that dangerous tool again, not even to a trusted species. In that sense, you are weaker than the Krall, although we do not know how the Thandol would know this. You Kobani clearly do have control of other Krall weapons, which use that same quantum key system, for trusted DNA patterns. The Thandol would not be trusted, but they do not wear the embedded quantum DNA key transmitters that you Kobani have anyway.

Mirikami proposed why they might not be worried. “I think they have figured out the secret of the denial chips we used to disable the ships and weapons for the Krall, but left them usable for us. They may have recovered and reverse engineered some of those chips, or they perhaps deduced the key change used, based on how we defeated the Krall. They might know how to program our human DNA as another untrusted species pattern, just as easily as Huwayla did to the Krall, and pass the virus update along to all of our captured clanships. They wouldn’t even have to know how to generate the fifth force effects. We sure didn’t.”

Sarge gave a Krall sounding snort of amusement. “Hell, that won’t work, or at least for very long. We don’t even have any of those key chips left inside of our first hundred or so captured ships now. We scavenged them all to use against the Krall at K1, and our Torki and Raspani technicians bypassed the equipment interlocks they controlled so we didn’t need a key code. We can do that to every ship and piece of Krall equipment we captured since then. That will surprise the crap out of them if they try to shut us down the same way. We’ll shoot their asses off.”

Thad clapped him on the shoulder. “Smart thinking ole buddy. You need to volunteer to head a new mission. You’re exactly the right man to take that information back to Haven, and then see that it gets applied to all the rest of our ships, before we find our pants pulled down around our ankles by the Thandol.”

Everyone grinned at Sarge’s sour face, knowing of his strong aversion to volunteering.

Maggi went back to discussing the Thandol’s original caution concerning the Krall. “After the Krall revolt, the Empire must have pulled back into the Sagittarius Arm, avoiding the Orion Spur in order to prevent being noticed by the barbarians almost at their door. Nevertheless, they clearly monitored what happened here. They may originally have hoped the Krall would resume interclan wars and self-destruct, a course they were certainly following prior to getting off their planet of origin. After the revolt, they had bigger and better weapons that could have put an end to them sooner.”

Sarge grunted at how well that had turned out. “Instead, they watched the Krall find new species to fight and kicked their asses, one species after another for a prolonged period. They saw them depopulate and abandon many of those worlds, destroying some of them by dismantling them with gravity projectors, in a manner that would look like they controlled them. They rapidly gained in population and war making ability, conquered new territory and found slave races. The Thandol waited, and thereby missed their best chance.

“Polo, old gal, you called the Thandol more aggressive and assertive than any other advanced species the Olt’kitapi knew, but I think your point of comparison is from a position of insecurity. Exactly like your builder’s perspective.”

“Friend Sarge, I presume Polo is a human style diminutive version of my proper name of Pholowela, much as you humans shorten names of friends. It omits the Olt’kitapi feminine ending for my name, of la. But because I’m an artificial lifeform, I have no gender and cannot reproduce. Therefore, I find no logical reason to object to the use of Polo as indicating myself, as one of your friends.”

Having his flippant and casual informality being addressed and analyzed so formally, took Reynolds by surprise for a moment.

“Uh…, OK, fine, then Polo it is. But back to what I said. I don't want you to think I’m being overly disparaging to a generous and benevolent people, but the Olt’kitapi, whose mind patterns you said were copied to make yours and the other Dismantlers, were a timid bunch of wimps, who literally couldn’t fight to save their lives. You share the same weakness of their myopic viewpoint of how threatening and aggressive the Thandol are.”

Maggi looked at him sharply. “Damn Sarge. Sure glad you didn’t want to be overly disparaging.”

“Hey! Our alien friends don’t mind telling us we’re potentially dangerous hyperactive adolescents!”

“I think they just meant you.”

“If so, then instead of sending me to Haven, you had better send my butt off to teach these murderous cowardly bastards a lesson. They mostly use other species to do their fighting, and they killed unarmed people here in their sleep, without any warning.”

Surprisingly she said, “I’ll concede that we need to let them know that if we defeated the Krall, they had best not provoke the people who accomplished that feat. A quick application of our sort of dangerous hyperactive adolescent human belligerence, along with Kobani genetics, might just be what is needed to keep them from making a major miscalculation.”

“Friend Sarge, you are in error about a lack of warning from the Thandol.” Pholowela’s statement surprised them all.

Mirikami quickly deduced how she could know that. “You’ve translated the recorded messages, haven’t you? What did they say?”

“Friend Tet, the message was spoken live, using the Thandol imperative mode of grammar by an Imperial authority aboard their ship. Per the Thandol protocol database we found in archives, the warning was delivered in what they consider a formal and fair manner, via four repetitions, which is a standard number for them. They use a base four number system.

“The protocol requires the subservient species to respond in what is considered a reasonable manner, which to the Thandol can only mean complete compliance by the end of the warnings. Certainly to be accomplished before a fifth, more punitive final visitation. The interval provided between each warning is two of their standard days. That length is a bit longer than the four-day intervals that passed here on Paradise, with its shorter length days.

“According to Thandol standards, the ultimatum, which may be the more appropriate term in Standard than merely calling it a warning message, was delivered four times as is customary. From their perspective, not only was it not complied with expeditiously, the fourth and final delivery was interrupted by the colony leader by her broadcast to them. Based on past reactions by the Thandol to communications with the Olt’kitapi, they demand a measure of courtesy they do not extend to others. Your colony leader did not wait for the Imperial representative, who was speaking as if the words came directly from the Emperor, to finish his prepared statement.

“Traditionally, the threatened enforcement action would not have been applied until the fifth visitation, in two more of their days if the offenders were still not in compliance after the final warning. I believe they interpreted that broadcast, during the final message, as signifying an interruption of the Emperor himself, confirming that a subservient species had refused to listen, and had done so in a rude unacceptable manner. To them, that granted and justified their right to apply the forewarned penalty without further delay.”

Mirikami asked, “Why would they expect the people here to understand a message delivered in the Thandol language, or for us to know their customs? Although, we clearly can see and understand what they think the appropriate penalty was. Death and destruction. What was their demand for compliance by Paradise to avoid this penalty?”

Pholowela furnished answers, but none they liked. “The Olt’kitapi learned most of the Thandol language and grammar modes after extensive dialogue. If you were a subservient species of the Olt’kitapi, they surely expected you to understand the message, or at least to be able to translate what was said. I caution you, however, on your implied assumption that this was an ultimatum directed solely at Paradise. By their phrasing, the demands were not directed to just this one planet, friend Tet.”

She elaborated. “It applies to the unspecified territory they consider to have been ruled by the Olt’kitapi. They demand that all of the subservient species in the former Olt’kitapi Empire to immediately apply to join the Thandol Empire, and formally swear allegiance to Emperor Detab Romal Farlol, who the speaker said is the eighty-fourth Emperor of that great family’s name. Otherwise, you must all leave the annexed territory or face the consequences.”

Pholowela seemed troubled only by one aspect of the translation. “There are serious errors in their perception of the Olt’kitapi, because my makers did not rule an empire, or have subservient species.”

With a glowering expression, Maggi said, “Oh, there were serious errors made all right. And they made them here on Paradise!”

Mirikami spoke up, finger on his lip. “Wait a moment.” He held up a hand the Dismantler couldn’t see from her orbit, but which held back outbursts that he saw threatening to erupt down here, where they were meeting in the Mark’s conference room.

“Pholowela, from how they phrased their demands, would you say they intended this ultimatum for any people on any world they consider to have been inside the volume of space the Olt’kitapi had colonized? The Prada were only partly inside that volume, and the Torki home world was fully inside it, as were their colony planets later. The Raspani only had a bit of an overlap along one side of their joint colonization regions. The other races that the Krall defeated presumably shared boundaries within, or were adjacent to the Olt’kitapi explored and settled areas.

“This particular world we named Paradise, and the other three new human colonies of the Federation are all in the same general region that was settled by other species the Krall exterminated, and were never inside of or even in contact with any part of Olt’kitapi Space. The four particular virgin worlds we claimed for human use were never even occupied by any colonizing species, perhaps because the gravity was too high for their preferences. Like Paradise, they aren’t within a volume that ever belonged to the Olt’kitapi. Yet the Thandol are claiming Paradise as if it was a world the Olt’kitapi controlled.”

“I understand your confusion, friend Tet. However, the Thandol were perhaps inadvertently ambiguous as to where the boundaries are that they mean. This may be a misunderstanding of former Olt’kitapi boundaries.”

“No, I don't think the Thandol are inadvertently ambiguous at all. I think they are being quite deliberate, and I don’t think there’s any misunderstanding on their part. Nor do I think they care where the Olt’kitapi lived or had explored. I believe they intend to claim everything the Krall controlled, and for some reason that I don't understand, they’re using the Olt’kitapi name as some sort of pretext to demand control of much of the Orion Spur. It’s clearly a land-grab, but why have they invoked a long dead species name, and not just say they want the Krall territory? It isn’t as if we humans will agree with their reasons, or accept even the more limited boundary claim of the original Olt’kitapi volume anyway.”

Maggi saw immediately what his concern was. The words used at Paradise foretold that a wider conflict was coming, and soon. "Tet, I'll link to each of the ten new colonies, to tell them to be on alert, and for them to immediately report any message, like Paradise received, to Haven. I’ll ask Stewart to send armed ships, with all of the quantum key chips removed, to watch over those colonies in advance. We also should send ships to the Krall’tapi world, which probably should count as another Federation colony effort, although they haven’t officially decided to be a Federation member yet. They’re deep inside former Olt’kitapi space, and I’m damned if we’ll leave them to the mercy of yet another conquering species.”

Noreen cautioned, “The other colonies probably won’t get four well-spaced warnings like happened here. Not if the Thandol consider all of the planets we won as fair game for them, and they started here only because it was the closest representative planet to them. With T-cubed speed, they could show up at any colony and attack with no warning, at any time. This may have been a single, one time warning, for the entire volume of space they intend to claim. There was never an intention of their acting fair.”

Mirikami added, “Maggi, ask Stewart to post sentry ships over Koban and Haven. They’re at as much risk as worlds that were never embedded in Olt’kitapi space. Noreen is right, the Thandol intend to claim it all.”

Thad was impatient. “We can’t just sit around and wait for more shoes to drop, Tet. Sarge was right. We need to find and face up to them. If they were afraid of the Krall, we can point out that we beat the hell out of that enemy in short order, at least compared to the thousands of years the Krall rampaged along the Orion Spur. They should be damned worried about us. We have to show them why.”

“I intend to, Thad, but I want to know more about them first, to understand what gives them the confidence that they can push us around? They obviously think they have the right, and apparently, the might. They’ve had another twenty thousand years after the Olt’kitapi were wiped out. Even if they expand and change at a more sedate rate than we do, they surely didn’t stand still. Perhaps they were finally ready to face the Krall, but we struck first. They might think they’re ready to take us on instead, from a military standpoint.”

He shrugged. “It’s odd. I had thought the PU would be our source of pressure for control of the new territory, but the new PU president appears to have backed away from Medford’s early push to take over some of our vacant planets. The navy and army know what we did to the Krall, and that they can’t match us in space or on the ground. Presumably, they impressed that information on the LOR politicians in parliament, and the new president from the DEW party.”

Sarge was as subdued as usual. “OK. So how the hell do we learn about these new Thandol ass holes if we don’t go looking ASAP?”

Mirikami gave him a dirty look. “I don't know about you folks, but if all we know is how they sound when they talk, the size and shape of one huge capitol ship, and a little bit about one single weapon they used that’s delivered in a mysterious manner, we aren’t ready to fight them. Let’s start with physiology, culture, and language, before we charge into a fight. I want to learn what more the Dismantlers have in their databases. Can you help us with that Pholowela?”

“I can try, friend Tet. Yet, I do not have the skills or inclination for combat, therefore I may not know what sort of information you seek, or to offer what you would find useful. Could you ask me questions, and I can provide what I find in my data, or that my sisters may have?”

“Certainly. Can you start with a physical description of them, or perhaps an image? Please send it to our Comtaps.”

“Yes. They were originally a herbiferous herd animal. They look like this.”

The first image, a close up frontal face view without scale, was a bit of a shock. At first Mirikami though he was looking into the maw of a giant yellow squid, but as the image pulled back, it proved to be four amber colored tentacles around a protruding “V” shaped set of lips, with flat crowned teeth seen inside the open mouth, suitable for mastication of vegetation, not flesh. The two lower tentacles were much thicker and more muscular than the upper small pair. Then, as the ends of the lower set were seen in detail as the image pulled back, they proved to have more in common with an elephant’s or Moosetodon’s single trunk, since they were both hollow tubes of muscle, suitable for breathing, drinking, grasping and lifting. They had delicate tips for holding small things.

The upper two manipulators, about half the diameter and length of the larger set, seemed to be true tentacles, and even had small gripping suckers on the undersides. The ends of the tentacles became very slender, almost tendrils, clearly capable of fine manipulation. The image rotated to the side and pulled back farther, revealing that the head had a high blunt forehead and flat on top, with forward facing eyes in the conventional location for binocular vision. The manipulating trunks and tentacles were placed around the mouth, in front of the eyes where the creature could easily see what they held. The wide cranium, on the end of a proportionately longer and thinner neck than for the thick short neck of an elephant, appeared to have ample room for a sizable brain.

There was still no scale factor, and as the image drew back again, a hairless mottled skinned, amber and light tan colored body appeared behind the neck and head, which definitely was reminiscent of an elephant’s or Moosetodon’s torso. The length of the torso was less than that of an elephant’s, and less rotund. The four post-like legs were more slender than expected, making them seem a bit long in proportion to the body. That was a feature more in common with the taller Moosetodons of Koban. The legs, each with a forward facing knee, ended with flat wide pads similar to elephant’s feet, with more pronounced toes. There was a whip-like short tail at the rounded rump.

Sarge had a request. “Hey Polo, can you superimpose a human figure next to it for scale? Someone that’s say, my height? I’m more typical in height than Tet or Thad.” Actually, Reynolds was a bit taller than average, by about the same amount that Mirikami was a bit shorter, roughly two inches either way from average. Thad and Dillon were both well above average height.

Perhaps, because of the vast scale of the ship they had brought to Paradise, and a body plan that was similar to an elephant, they all were surprised to see that the flat back of the creature came only to the shoulders of the image of Reynolds. Its body was unadorned by clothing, except for a long carrying pouch slung snuggly below the underside of the two-foot neck, and items were attached by straps on the front legs above the knees, any of which would be accessible to the long trunks or the short tentacles. The two trunks proved to be roughly six feet in length, easily able to reach the ground without lowering the head on the flexible neck. The two thinner and higher placed tentacles, located just above and to either side of the mouth, were about three feet long.

“Hell, they aren’t much larger than a tall Raspani.” Sarge noted. “It’s their long legs holding their ass so high off the ground, which makes them seem bigger. And they’re mostly a dull yellow.” He sounded disappointed they weren’t larger and more intimidating. “Do they move very fast?”

As they watched, the still image became animated, and the walking pace was similar to an elephant’s, two or three feet normally touching the ground at a time. With a smaller body mass, and a body adapted for low gravity worlds, a Thandol could probably actually run, getting all four feet off the ground in a full out gallop. Something that an elephant or a Moosetodon never did. Those larger and heavier animals merely walked faster when in a hurry. A Moosetodon could walk much faster than an elephant in fact, since whiteraptors might be in pursuit, and elephants had no natural predators.

The walking speed increased, and evolved into a full run, a rather stiff looking gallop. The image slowed, and the Thandol turned towards the imaginary camera in everyone’s mind, and came to a stop. It shifted most of its weight to the pair of legs on its right side, and lifted the two large trunks and casually interlaced them, keeping their tips well off the ground without having to hold them up, as the neck relaxed and lowered the head slightly. It reminded them of a slouching man folding his arms, placing his weight predominately on a straightened leg with its knee locked, his hip slightly cocked in an energy-conserving stance. To complete the effect, the two tentacles weaved an intricate little twisting interplay with one another that caused the human observers to think of a pair of twiddling thumbs of a bored individual.

Maggi nodded, and quipped. “Yep, looks just like Sarge, when he’s thinking about what to make out of all that fuzz in his navel.”

Mirikami kept them on track. “Polo, what does your database say about their home world?”

“Friend Tet, that was unknown to my builders, but all of the worlds the Thandol colonized for their own use were only slightly more massive on average than those the Olt’kitapi preferred. Perhaps sixty five percent that of the planet where you stand now.”

An instant mental calculation and Mirikami said, “That’s about seventy five percent of Earth normal gravity for them. Did they seem stronger than expected for a lower gravity species? I’m thinking of their ability to resist accelerations in a ship, their strength in personal combat, and the weight of weapons, body armor, and equipment they might carry.”

“I have no measure of that, friend Tet. However, they did not normally engage in direct physical hostilities with other races when my database was last updated. They used three of their subservient species for that purpose, or they acted at a distance, as they did here. This is what induced my makers to try to engage the Krall, offering to modify some of them into the Krall’tapi form if they agreed, serving a combat purpose.

“Our old data indicates that because the early Krall warriors were adapted to a higher gravity world, they were expected to be stronger and faster than any of the three species the Thandol assigned to Imperial security. A high level of uncontrolled aggression was an obvious detrimental feature for the Krall, which the Olt’kitapi attempted to reduce. The Krall’tapi, with their involuntary rage glands disabled, and using their new mind enhancers, could fully operate any Olt’kitapi ship, equipment, or weapons.

“This was not the case for security forces in the Thandol Empire, because the rulers did not furnish even their most trusted citizens with access to the best combat technology available.

“In perfect hindsight, my own builders should also have proceeded with more caution with the Krall, at least until the Krall’tapi grew in numbers, and assumed the same defense responsibilities initially given to the basic Krall warriors. The original Krall would have eventually been allowed to continue with their personal intensive interclan wars.”

“Was there ever any actual fighting with the Thandol forces?”

“We have no records of that. With the weapons being furnished to the Krall, they were technologically equivalent to their potential opponents at that time and stronger physically. The Krall’tapi would have eventually been given even better weapons, with mental interfaces.

“We estimate that Earth normal humans, adapted to a twenty-five percent higher gravity world, would be a probable physical match for the heavier and larger Thandol. You do seem a more assertive species than they are. Lacking data, there is no means to compare you to their security forces. Of course, you Kobani should outmatch any of them physically.”

“How large is their population?”

“The Empire’s population could be close to that contained within Human Space. Despite your dense populations on a greater variety of worlds, the Empire includes a vaster volume of space. However, many of their citizen species will not fight for, or even willingly support the Empire.”

“What can you to tell us about those three species that provide their fighting forces?”

“I regret that I do not have any information concerning those races or their names, other than that they were not expected to be as effective at fighting as the Krall’tapi. I don’t know how my makers determined this because they did not meet representatives of the Empire’s fighters. At least I have no images of them.

“It was not easy for the Olt’kitapi to scout Empire territory using the faster T-cubed mode of travel, because it was easier for the Empire to trace scouting flights from their points of origin to where they ended. It is more difficult to trace travel at the first and lowest rotation into Tachyon Space, but those modes of travel are far slower. That limited their ability to scout very many of the Thandol worlds, or for the Thandol to scout the Olt’kitapi worlds where their own scouts could also be detected.”

“Ah. We had better learn more about that detection, before we go charging in on them or lead them back to Koban.”

“My sisters and I know how to do this Tachyon Space path tracing, and then do the conversion to Normal Space coordinates. We have remote imaging ability of massive objects in nearby star systems, and within about twelve light years, we can detect modest brief gravity anomalies such as formation of Jump Holes and White Outs. Larger events, like the huge Thandol craft that came here caused, we may sense it farther away. We can detect tachyon waves from motion through the sea of lowest power infinite velocity tachyons, particularly when more massive and slower objects use T-squared or T-cubed travel. The more massive the object being moved, the easier that becomes to trace. I can explain how this is done now if you wish.”

“Thank you, but save that for our scientists and technicians back on Haven and Koban. It would be wasted on us, I suspect. At least until it is explained by humans that learned how to do it, and can speak in simpler terms to us non-scientists.”

“I will do that when you say your scientists are ready.”

“Thanks. We can continue with what we can understand today. We know what the Thandol look like, their size, and probably why their speech makes those bugling dual note sounds, coming from their two trunks, and possibly from their mouths as well. I presume we can get a translation database for our Comtaps, and for Olts and mind enhancers. Did you do multiple translations from their language? Say into low Krall, then to Standard?”

“Yes friend Tet, but in the process, I have completed databases for direct translations from Thandol speech to Standard, Torki, Raspani, and the preferred Krall’tapi dialect of low Krall. I am sending uploads to your Comtaps, and you can share that with your other allies. I cannot verify that I have all the emotional context of the words correctly represented, or all of the grammar of the various modes of their speech, other than a close representation of the Imperative mode, which was used in the recorded messages here, and formed the basis of many of their conversations with the Olt’kitapi. They were very authoritarian towards my builders, and rather than agree to cooperate with them to build their own habitat module when invited, they rejected that idea and demanded that the Olt’kitapi sell them operational gravity projectors, like those that my sisters and I use to dismantle a planet for building material.

“My gravity projectors were a technology the Thandol did not have at that time, because they did not understand either of the two theories behind the proper use of that technology. They lacked the mathematics, or the understanding of the quantum interactions across the dimensions involved. They could not create a gravitational event horizon at a remote point, and adjust the quantum probability for converting matter to antimatter by controlling the energy of the tachyons that are able to tunnel through the horizon, and thus whether matter or anti-matter disintegrated more frequently.”

Mirikami looked to the others, shrugging his shoulders. He was certain no one here understood what Pholowela was describing. “Uh. That’s a comforting detail, telling us they don’t know how to dismantle planets.” The Olt’kitapi seemed to have had a knack for complex multidimensional mathematics involving quantum mechanics, and the Thandol did not. Mirikami wondered if any humans had the knack. He certainly wasn’t one of them.

“Were there any other difficulties between the Olt’kitapi and the Thandol?”

“Yes. They were very displeased to be forced to deal with a matriarchal society, such as the Olt’kitapi had, and to be denied anything they wanted, such as gravity projectors.”

Mirikami felt slightly relieved. At least a Dismantler’s gravity projector was one tool or weapon they may never have developed.

While Mirikami ruminated on his thoughts, Maggi asked, “Will we be able to understand the other modes of Thandol speech with that translation routine? Low and high Krall speech was essentially two different languages, for example. Are their grammatical modes that distinct?”

“No. It is one language. Primarily it is voice inflections, and word modifiers, that will change between grammatically distinct speech modes in recorded messages or by radio. In person or on video, it also involves trunk and tentacle positions. Nevertheless, you will understand their words in any speech mode, and they will understand your words, even if they complain that you speak as if you were a brain-damaged creature of low intelligence, displaying no emotions. They are not diplomatic in their manners with other species. You would describe them as arrogant, I believe.”

Mirikami moved to another subject. “What can you tell us about Thandol society and culture? They have had a long line of emperors, apparently eighty-four of them with the family name of Farlol. Aside from a lack of originality, there must have been many other names, and perhaps empresses. What do you know of that?”

“The Thandol were recent converts to operating as a consolidated empire, when they and the Olt’kitapi first met. They only permit males to be their leaders, and they had been expanding their domain under the rule of several lines of emperors for perhaps four thousand standard Earth years before the Olt’kitapi learned of them. They claim to have been colonizing longer than the Olt’kitapi had been, and seemed sensitive about that claim of longevity. It was not a matter of importance to my builders, although the Thandol claimed to control a region larger than the volume under the influence of the Olt’kitapi. That could not be verified, and they said they had controlled T-cubed travel for a longer time as well, which would support their larger territorial claims. If what they said to my builders was actually true.”

Pholowela seemed uncertain as she paused briefly then resumed, starting with an apology. “I ask that you not accept what I am about to say as critical of you, my friends. In all matters that my builders and I find important, you have acted honorably and nobly, at great risk and sacrifice to yourselves on behalf of others.

“However, one characteristic of the Thandol is that they exaggerate, even fabricate falsehoods, to either elevate their status, create a truth for themselves that never existed, or to speak poorly of others that do not deserve the criticism offered about them.” She paused again.

“I am aware that this is a trait that humans sometimes display. Often in humor, which I frequently do not understand, or it can be an intentional serious falsehood, which I also do not understand. It is your actions, in the aggregate, that I have used to determine that most humans are trustworthy, most of the time, and more so for many of the Kobani I have come to know. Even for friend Sarge.”

That specific inclusion triggered stifled laughs all around and a rare red face for tall-tale-teller Reynolds. The stifled laughter wasn’t to save Sarge from embarrassment; it was for “Polo,” the presumably unfeeling AI.

Maggi spoke first, eyebrows raised at Reynolds in a warning to stay quiet. “We are not offended by that comparison Polo, because it happens to be accurate. In fact, I suspect that characteristic is far more common in most species than you think. It appears that the Olt’kitapi were exceptional in the honesty and morality departments as well as in intelligence and science. As a copy of their mental patters, you are a reflection of their minds and attitudes.

“I think all of us here assumed that the Thandol were deceptive and treacherous, well before you revealed that suspected personality aspect to us. I think you were trying to question some of the claims they made to your builders, without calling them liars. To keep Sarge from exploding, and to set your thought circuits at ease, the Thandol are certainly liars, and like Sarge, not everything they say is bullshit. A race of part-time liars, like all of humanity is, are able to determine for ourselves what statements we should believe or not, or to verify them if we must know the truth.”

“Thank you for your clarification, friend Maggi. I will continue.

“Please do.”

“Prior to being a single empire, the Thandol were divided into four competing interstellar kingdoms, which were consolidated by force into a single empire by one king, who declared he would be ruler of all the kingdoms. That conquest became possible when his kingdom was the first to acquire T-cubed travel.

“This historical information wasn’t learned directly from the Thandol, who refuse to speak of the time before the founding of the empire. Their weaker, subservient races are not as reticent about telling others what they know of Thandol history. The Olt’kitapi managed to speak in private to a number of representatives of the weaker member species of the empire.”

Dillon looked worried. “What you have said about them still makes them sound intimidating, even if some of their claims are exaggerated. The Krall bragged, but they were still dangerous. Their empire might be larger than the territory we just won, or not, but we barely occupy all of that vastness we have claimed. They clearly do have some of the technology of the Olt’kitapi, and which is new to humanity. They also have three servant races to fight for them. Damned if we aren’t outnumbered and out tech’ed again.”

Sarge quipped, “At least we’ll outlive them, if they don’t kill us first.” He wasn’t letting a brief embarrassment get him down.

Maggi spoke up, “That’s brings up a good question. How long do they live, such as how long are the reigns of their Emperors? With those big numbers for past emperors in a single family, I’d thing not very long.”

“Friend Maggi, their normal life span was not known precisely to us, but appeared to be in the range of about eighty to ninety of your years. They displayed no evidence of your species willingness to alter the genetics for lifespan or body function. No species known has done so as extensively as you humans have. The Prada’s indefinite life span, and DNA repair to stay at their peak physical age for their elders, is the only other example of such tampering that I have found in my database.

“In any case, the typical Thandol life span is not a significant factor for most Emperors. An Emperor sometimes does not remain in power for even a tenth of that length of time. A male that succeeds to the throne must first live at least half of their life to gather the political support to be considered a viable contender. The heir or successor normally comes from the noble herd of the current emperor. However, he is not necessarily an Emperor’s direct male descendant. There is apparently considerable political competition, and it must be quite stressful for them, because some leaders are not on the throne for even a quarter of the typical time, and expire young and are replaced.”

Maggi grinned wickedly. “Yes, I’ll bet. When I heard there had already been eighty-four Farlol’s, I suspected there was a bit of a turnover in the top spot. Reusing the same name suggests a continuity of family leadership to their subservient races, but numbering them also reveals their internal conflicts. I imagine every Emperor is looking over their shoulder all the time for the next usurper. I wonder if they have an imperial guard, and food testers?”

“I do not know about food testers, but there was always a sizable Imperial Guard, friend Maggi, and that changed with each new emperor.”

“Oh. Those were rhetorical questions, Polo. I recognize the sort of politics involved. I’ll be studying some of humanities own Imperial dynasties, for how the intrigue worked. It is rare for one dynasty to transition smoothly into the next, and changes came at, shall we say, irregular intervals? Following tragic and often mysterious deaths.”

“You think an empire this size and ancient is that unstable?” Mirikami asked.

“Not the empire itself, but to those that lead it, yes. It can literally be a cutthroat ascension to the throne. There are always dynasties in empires and kingdoms, and they fall or change for multiple reasons, while the empire or kingdom usually survives, because the successors also want it kept intact. Think of ancient Rome.”

Noreen had little knowledge of monarchies or dynasties. “What triggers the change? I guess a desire to just have the power?”

Maggi shrugged. “More reasons than that. Such as when, not if, corruption occurs. Say, an emperor fails to rule over the empire properly and leaves all the drudgery to his advisers. The advisers are highly bribable and therefore become corrupt as well, leaving the running of the empire in favor of those with money for bribes. With the flip-flopping of governmental direction and policy, based on who offered the most recent high bribe, people get resentful. When this happens, the ruler's power weakens, which gives a chance for other powerful noble families to find support for a takeover, or for an ambitious member of the Emperor’s own herd, since we are talking about the Thandol. If a new family wins a civil war, they often kill every member associated with the old regime, and then the pattern starts again, or a different pattern of failure does. Sometimes the new Emperor, already old when crowned, dies and there is a fight for succession. The dynasty that controls the throne can be stable for a time, but over the long haul, the chaos in leadership will eventually return.

“There will be many modes of failure for a dynasty. If this is how their politics work, then understanding these various failure modes may help us maneuver them to our advantage when we meet them, or at least recognize the current weak points in the throne’s support, and discover who is waiting in the wings to take over. That’s if we don’t have to fight them constantly, and get to visit their court.”

Sarge shook his head. “My God, you really are a devious manipulative woman.”

“Why thank you for saying such nice things.”

“Not at all. Happy to have your sneaky treacherous nature on my side, for a change.” He offered, in pretended magnanimity.

With a sweet smile in his direction, she turned to leave the conference room, to make the promised Comtap links to the colonies and Haven in private.

Never content to leave the field of verbal combat without parting shots, she muttered, her words growing gradually fainter as she walked down the corridor. “What a thick headed curmudgeon, or is it Cro-Magnon? Perhaps colossal colon or colon head.” The last discernable insult was, “Probably head-stuck-in-colon…” Indistinct words continued for additional seconds before fading with distance.

Chapter 14: Meeting the Neighbors

Stewart reached Mirikami in the middle of his sleep cycle on the Mark.

“Are you awake now Tet? Jakob said it was local night for you when I checked, but this is important.”

Avoiding speaking, he stayed with silent Comtap mode, and Mirikami sat up and thought his reply, instantly awake. “I’m up. What’s happening?”

“The Thandol appeared over Green Atoll a short time ago, and demanded the Torki swear allegiance to Emperor Fartall.”

“His name’s Emperor Farlol, but I like your pronunciation better. What happened?”

“Thank the stars, Maggi linked to their Olts a few hours ago to warn them to be on guard. Our sentry ships are still enroute from Haven, so the Torki had quickly offloaded supplies to the colony, letting Water Drifter get off the planet quicker. She used her new Normal Space drive to reach orbit, and had started a survey of local ocean currents. The colony is conducting their first egg and sperm release and wanted to predict drift for...” he was interrupted by an impatient man.

“Stewart, you woke me up for this emergency call. I don't need to know about young crabs returning home two years from now. Tell me what happened please.”

“That same giant ship, or one like it, told them in the Thandol language they had to either join the empire now, or evacuate the planet before nightfall. That was at midday for the single nest site on Green Atoll thus far. The Torki had the language data packet Maggi sent them, so they were able to understand and answer them.”

With a sigh and a sense of dread, Mirikami asked, “And what happened? Did they attack the Water Drifter and the colony? I know the Torki would never agree to join their empire, and even a full day is too short a time to evacuate the size colony we put there, with only a single migration ship.”

“They immediately fired on the ship, and then the nest site when they said they wouldn’t join the empire. Didn’t even wait for sunset at the colony site.”

It was like getting teeth from a tulip to get this excellent politician to provide pertinent militarily meaningful details. “I take it the ship was destroyed, and the colony wiped out?”

“Oh no. Thanks to Maggi’s advice, the Drifter was holding a Jump tachyon in their primary Trap, ready to flee. The ship’s captain used his Olt to warn the colonists to flee to the open sea just as soon as the Thandol ship appeared, even before they made their demands. As soon as the captain said they were a member of the Galactic Federation, and wouldn’t join the Empire, they were promptly hit with what must have been one of those weapons used at Paradise. Then they Jumped.”

“Who Jumped? The Thandol?”

“No, the Water Drifter, of course. They’re on the way back to Haven with internal damage. The Torki spokescrab on the ground at Green Atoll reported by Olt that the Thandol hammered the coastal cove of the colony, the building supplies and equipment, but everyone was dispersed into the ocean by then. No loss of life.”

“Wait! You said the Drifter is headed for Haven. How long ago? Who’s the captain, I have to stop him and change his destination. The Thandol will follow him home.”

“Uh…,” he quickly checked his memory. “Her name is Captain Tirdal.”

“OK. I’ll wake Maggi and have you speak with her Stewart, while I find out exactly where the Drifter is right now. Fortunately, at T-squared speed she can’t be close to Haven yet.”

He woke Maggi, sleeping next to him and quickly filled her in, as he dressed. He headed for the Bridge as he searched his Comtap for the link address of the Torki captain he’d never met.

“Captain Tirdal, this is Captain Mirikami. Are you headed for Haven, and do you need assistance? I understand you were hit by one or more Thandol warheads, or whatever you would call those things.”

“Captain Mirikami, I’m relieved to hear from you. I initially started for Haven, but I have altered course to remain in the area near the colony. I wanted to confirm my change in plans with someone more experienced. It is possible the Thandol could pursue us to Haven, and I also wanted to return to Green Atoll to recover some of our people if we are able to evacuate them.”

Relieved, Mirikami congratulated her. “That was good thinking. We know that the Thandol track ships, particularly large ships like yours through Tachyon Space at higher dimensions. President Stewart says there were ships just sent to Atoll from Haven. Please contact them and have them meet you at some mutually suitable uninhabited star system, before continuing to Green Atoll. They could also be backtracked to Haven otherwise. I don't know if the Thandol know where Haven and Koban are yet, but I don't want to lead them there if they don’t know yet, especially before we have gathered our forces.”

“President Stewart told me who the commander is in charge of the ten ships he sent. I’ll contact her by Olt.”

“Good. How badly were you damaged? Did you lose any people?”

“We lost one male, who was passing near the empty center of the ship when the weapon appeared there. A quarter of his body was sheared away, but fortunately, his Olt and brain survived. Despite the pain, he dumped his personality into the Olt, as we learned to do from the Raspani. He will have to endure youthful molting again when his Olt is implanted in a returning Torkedia, but he will be restored.”

“How is it that you didn’t suffer serious or disabling damage to your ship?”

“This is a large ship as you know, with a considerable open volume located near the center for habitat water, which was just emptied before we departed Green Atoll, to save weight. That’s where the warhead struck, at our geometric center. It suddenly appeared inside of us, with no penetration through the hull or surrounding decks and bulkheads. The weapon disintegrated a volume of matter in a sphere that passed through two decks, but nothing critical for our operation. Because of our size, and the limited mass that was converted to atomic particles, there was only a small internal pressure increase.”

“Captain that confirms our suspicions we had at Paradise that the weapon suddenly appears inside the target. We already know that its destructive effect is a variation of the same quantum application of the Raspani boring tool. I wanted to assure myself you were safe, and to divert you away from Haven. I’m pleased that you had changed course on your own. I’ll check back with you later. Mirikami Out.”

The Mark was traveling in company through Thandol territory, using only the single rotation into Tachyon Space. This made their intrusion path virtually impossible to detect, but their rate of travel was very slow. They had initially Jumped in deeper, using T-cubed travel to penetrate well into Thandol space, as if headed for their central interior, leaving a strong wake pointing that way. Then they made White Outs, followed by a greater than right angle change in direction and lower speed.

They were now moving towards a star system that Pholowela had assured them was inhabited by a race that paid obedience to the Empire, but had been said to be a reluctant member. Where best to get honest answers about the Empire than from those that opposed the overlords?

He linked with the other ships with him, the Avenger, Ripper, Sneaky Bastard, and Wanderer. The Vanguard had returned home with the more fragile Torki and Raspani aboard her, and the four other ships at Paradise picked up settlers from the three other small towns.

After calling the other sleepyheads to their Bridges, he described what had happed at Green Atoll.

“Noreen, your hunch was right. They don't think any other warnings are required. However, that assumption and their visit to Atoll revealed something else they must know about us, which the Krall never figured out. They are aware we have instantaneous long-range communications. Without that, there isn’t any way we could have warned the Torki on the other side of our volume of space in so short a time, less than a day. Yet the Thandol expected them to know about the ultimatum, and were apparently not surprised the Torki could communicate with them.”

“Well, I’m not surprised.” Dillon asked. “The Olt’kitapi had tachyon modulated instant communications, and surely the Empire must as well. It’s an advantage we no longer uniquely hold.”

Noreen added, “Well, not even the Olt’kitapi had Mind Tap, to instantly and directly share mental contacts via Comtap with each other as we do, let alone via direct physical contact with any species. Our superconducting nervous systems and Mind Tap, plus Koban strength and reaction speed are advantages we need to seek ways to expand on. The Thandol can’t do that, because that isn’t exactly technology they can simply copy, and they probably don’t even suspect it exists.”

“They might, if they saw our Tri-Vid broadcasts from Earth.” Maggi reminded them, as she joined the group chat.

“Knowing it exists, and obtaining the capability are different things.” Mirikami stated. “Anyway, I’d rather we didn’t advertise it to them, because it’s unlikely the Thandol understand Standard, even if they somehow gained access to that old broadcast.”

“Hey, I have a thought.” That was Carson. “Our Comtaps have unique addresses for each person, as do Olts and mind enhancers, and now the Prada com sets, and all of them use tachyon modulation for instant communications. Have we looked into the equivalent of wire taps, to listen in on other communications?”

His dad seemed unsure. “Blue told us there are almost an infinite number of addresses possible and certainly different protocols for the message formats or modulation, even if the addresses were used in duplication.”

Ethan, always on the same wavelength as Carson suggested a solution. “Steal a device sample of whatever the Thandol use, and figure out how their system works. Then read out the addresses of significant people in their Empire. Listen-in to what they say if we can, or perhaps block its use by them at a critical time if we can’t do that. Simply contacting one of their leaders unexpectedly could give them a damned good scare. Can’t hurt to try.”

Thad, generally more practical and serious when it came to an approaching fight, spoke from the bridge of the Ripper, “Tet, I know you didn’t rouse us just to discuss Green Atoll, since it’s so far away. What’s going on in the middle of what we would call night?”

“I suggest we get to the Hothor’s home system sooner. We’re almost four days away at this speed, and less than one day at T-squared. I know its only minutes at T-cubed, but I don't want to draw obvious attention from the Thandol to these people by our visit. After a day at this speed, we are light years away from where we made our exit and we almost turned back on our previous path. I want to get useful intelligence as quick as possible, because the Thandol are stepping up their aggression, and might move against us much quicker and with a stronger response if they learn where Koban and Haven are.

“We had six hours of sleep, so I want us to spread out and stagger our higher-level jumps a bit, but still get there faster. I’ll speed up first, and I expect you to arrive within an hour or so of the Mark. We need to meet them.”

The Hothor were a two star species, with two planets settled in their original home system, much like the Earth-Mars planetary duo, and one colony world at a nearby star only five light years away. They had colonized the second world twenty-eight thousand years ago, and would have explored and colonized farther by now, except the Thandol wouldn’t permit them to do so after they made contact. They engaged in trade with neighboring empire species, and with the Thandol of course, the latter expecting them to buy more from them than anyone else.

Per the Dismantler’s database, the race was bipedal and omnivorous, eating fruits, nuts, roots, insects, and insect and animal byproducts. They rarely ate animals, according to old Olt’kitapi records. They had been tree dwellers in their remote past, and although they were ground dwellers now, they built homes within forested areas, retained much shortened, curved gray front claws, which they had once used for climbing. Their toe claws had atrophied to little more than gray human-like toenails, and they walked upright with a slight side-to-side waddle.

Comparing things to an image of Sarge was now apparently “Polo’s” standard for scale factor, so the Hothor appeared to stand between five and five and a half feet tall as adults. They had gray and white fur down their backs, with thick looking hair of a few inches in length, and thinning at the sides and on their upper limbs, and nearly gone on the front. Their arms were nearly hairless below their elbows, and the skin of the arms and hands appeared almost black with fine sparse gray hair there.

They had a round head with short hair on a long neck, the skull slightly smaller than a human’s head, with a circular, nearly flat and hairless face, with a small pointed muzzle and fine little teeth. Their wideset small eyes were dark, and looked rather sad, in a face that was as black as the skin of their arms. There appeared to be two slits between their eyes that served as nostrils, rather than being placed at the end of their small muzzle.

They all wore various sorts of footgear, and because their front torso was nearly hairless and they had external genitalia, they chose to wear various styles of differently colored smocks, on the front of their torsos only, looped around their necks and tied around their plump waists, or sometime clipped to their long fur on their sides. The smocks usually extended to just above the knees of their legs, concealing their genitals, and the clothes were equipped with multiple pockets of a variety of sizes, which often bulged with objects in them.

They vaguely reminded Maggi of large upright sloths. However, when Pholowela articulated them in her image, they didn’t move slow or sloth-like at all, and seemed to exhibit a quick, nervous seeming quality when they moved.

Their home world, which they called Canji Mot, had gravity in the mid-range of many of the habitable worlds humans had found. It was seventy-two percent of Earth normal, and it had a warm yellow sun similar to Earth’s Sun, rather than the more common cooler and red tinged suns. They were farther out from their star, roughly at a temperate spot equivalent to being between Earth and Mars in the Sol system. They had a slightly cooler climate than Earth, with larger polar caps.

Following his own advice, Mirikami Jumped the Mark, or perhaps the proper term was rotated to a higher dimension in Tachyon Space, directly into the T-squared level without doing a White Out to Normal Space first. Doing this from level one prevented a White Out gamma burst and a brief gravity anomaly in Normal Space. They were doing their best to stay unnoticed.

The Mark reached Canji Mot in eighteen hours, and did a White Out at roughly a thousand miles and descended slowly to enter a hundred mile orbit. This was considered a polite slow approach, allowing the Hothor an opportunity to observe them, and ascertain they were an unknown ship type, and therefore most likely controlled by an alien species.

It was surprising then, when multiple radar systems all around the planet and one on a small inner moon locked onto them, and a more powerful set of signals from an outer moon came alive, with characteristics similar to weapons systems because they had a high pulse rate for more accurate tracking and targeting.

Mirikami, using the translation packet given them by Pholowela, promptly broadcast to them, having Jakob translate into Thandol, specifically avoiding the use of the imperative grammar mode.

“I speak to all of Canji Mot, to tell you that the Hothor people are not enemies of my people, and you have nothing to fear from us. My name is Tetsuo Mirikami, and we are here on a peaceful visit to become acquainted with you. This ship is largely crewed by one species, called human, and we are representatives from a Galactic Federation of multiple species, located in a nearby small stream of stars attached to this great arm of the galaxy. All of our member species are equal and full citizens within our government. We wish to have a peaceful discussion, and to visit with your leaders. We are using the Thandol language only because we do not know yours yet, but we are not affiliated with the Thandol Empire.”

The clearly skeptical and surprising reply came quickly, also in the Thandol language. “You are in a Krall clanship. We are prepared to defend ourselves, and that which we shelter. Leave now or you will be fired upon.”

Holding his curiosity at bay, wondering how they recognized a Krall clanship, and who or what they sheltered, Mirikami said, “We have defeated the Krall, and we now use many of the ships we captured from them. We have begun to occupy worlds within the territory the Krall previously conquered. As examples of three species that are now members of the Federation, we have Prada, Torki, and Raspani citizens, who were formerly subject to harsh Krall domination. We also have two other member races besides humans, one of which is with us aboard this ship. To avoid alarm and panic, I want you to be aware that this ship did not come alone, so please do not attack us when the four other ships arrive here soon, as part of our peaceful mission. We approached you cautiously and spread out, to avoid detection by the Thandol. The Empire has made at least two attacks on Federation citizens. We came here to learn more about them from a people we have reason to believe are not their friends.”

A snappish answer came back, using the Thandol imperative mode of grammar. “Your trickery will not induce us to speak poorly of our glorious Emperor Farlol, the eighty fourth. We know you lied to us just now. You could not operate a Krall clanship without their assistance, and the Raspani are no longer a sentient species since the Krall made them food animals. Leave here. We will show you no further patience.”

Mirikami hurried to convince them before they acted rashly. “Humans and Torki helped restore Raspani sentience from a single mind enhancer, which had been hidden from the Krall, and which contained millions of stored minds. They are steadily increasing the number of individual sentient minds as bodies of wild and empty minded Raspani meat animals are rescued, and new mind enhancers are embedded in them.

“My own people, who are a single race of the base species of humanity, now bear the same ancient Olt’kitapi tattoo as did the Krall. That tattoo permitted us to use the quantum key locked equipment of the Krall, and we acquired the means to deny the Krall use of this same equipment by listing them as an untrusted species, locking them out. This was what the Olt’kitapi tried and failed to do when the Krall revolted against them. Do your people even remember meeting the Olt’kitapi? We were told they visited you long ago, just before their society was destroyed by the Krall. In fact, that could be when you learned of the Krall. Before the Raspani lost their sentience.”

There was no immediate reply, but there was no indication that the weapons guidance systems were doing anything other than continuing to track them. Mirikami had entered Normal Space unstealthed, not using the improved system the Torki had added for them, which Jakob had just said would render them invisible to the detection systems presently locked onto them. He was prepared to go stealth and do a micro-Jump at a moment’s notice.

While waiting the few seconds for them to assimilate what he’d said, he Comtapped with the other captains, making certain they avoided making an exit too close to Canji Mot, perhaps alarming the fingers, or claws, resting on the triggers here.

Thad said, “How about if I come in close to give you some cover, but stay ghosted? Your link will show me what’s happening, and I’ll be close enough to help.”

“OK. Thad. The rest of you should exit with stealth off, fifty miles above me. Noreen, do the reflecting thing you did over Denver. I want them to see all of you. Let me know just before you pop out.”

The Hothor completed whatever consultation had been going on in the background, and returned sounding less threatening, but still with unanswered questions. “How can a people that could beat the Krall in this era, have known the Olt’kitapi in the long past era when the Krall betrayed them? If you needed the Krall ships to travel here undetected, you apparently do not have many advanced ships of your own. That suggests a people that should have been too weak to defeat the Krall, even if you denied them access to most of their best weapons. Your technology doesn’t appear to match your improbable claim, yet you do have a clanship, and surprising knowledge of the quantum key system and how it worked.”

Mirikami wanted to establish some level of rapport with the speaker. “I don’t know your name, but you too have a surprising knowledge of that quantum key system, because you didn’t ask me what I meant about our listing the Krall as an untrusted species and locking them out. You know what that means; therefore, you once had contact with the Olt’kitapi to learn that. This is something we only recently learned, from a source that was once very close to that vanquished species.

“That source was involved in planning a vast construction project, when the Olt’kitapi came to invite the Thandol to join with them in building an enormous new multispecies home around a star. They wanted to invite other species in the Empire. It’s the reason we came to talk to you, to learn what you discussed with them back then, and what you told them about the Thandol. We believe you and we have a mutual adversary in the Thandol Empire, and you have been under their rule a very long time. I assume you are tired of that.”

Unable to conceal a sense of wonder and hope, the questioner asked, “Are you inviting us to join you in a finished habitat?”

Wow, that was a charged question, which Mirikami knew he didn’t have an answer to match that sense of hope. He’d only wanted to establish that he knew of their past link to the Olt’kitapi, and the discussions they presumably had. He didn’t have a means of escape from the Empire for them.

He felt Noreen’s mind via Comtap. “Tet, we’ve arrived, and except for the Ripper, we’re ghosting and ready to exit, directly above you.”

He replied only through the link. “Hold on, Noreen. Exit on my cue. Listen to what I say to the Hothor on when to do it.”

To the Hothor he asked, “Who do I have the honor of addressing? I furnished you my name.”

“Forgive my lapse in manners Tetsuo Mirikami. I am Yida Gof Hanbi, and my title is Third Minister to our Chief Counselor, Firl Jaf Semal.”

“Yida Gof Hanbi, I must advise you that my companions have just arrived, and their three ships are about to White Out. By that, I mean they will make an exit from Tachyon Space directly above my ship, in a very reflective mode so you can see them. Please, do not be alarmed. They also are operating captured clanships of the Krall. Team, please White Out now.”

Simultaneously, three ships appeared in bursts of gamma rays, gleaming silver in reflected sun light, even in a daytime sky.

“Yegleth!” Was the startled exclamation heard from the Hothor third minister, as he apparently watched the sky. That meant he was positioned on this side of the planet.

He explained the real source of his surprise. “You can communicate with spacecraft when they are in the alternate travel universe and you are on this side. Not even the Thandol can do that.”

Mirikami was sorely tempted to tell the minister that he could do it instantaneously at any distance, but thought better of revealing that. At least he had just learned of a limitation to Thandol communications. Assuming this wasn’t a technology the Empire kept secret from their minions.

“Tetsuo Mirikami, I have just been instructed by our Chief Counselor, our highest leader, to invite you to land your ships near his winter residence for additional discussions. I will be seeking transport to join you there, accompanied by the first and second ministers, and a number of our scientists. I hope you are not offended, but meeting a new species is always a rare cause for excitement.”

“We are not offended, and we share your excitement. However, you will be meeting two new species today. One of the other member species of our Federation is with us, and some of them are traveling on each of our ships.”

“You said you are called a human. What is your general physical description?”

“We have some images of the Hothor, and we are bipedal, like you, with a similar arrangement and number of limbs, with our head on the top, as do you, with eyes and mouth not arranged greatly different than you have. We have external fleshy growths on each side of our heads, protruding from our hair for hearing sound, but we did not see this feature for your people. We have much less hair on our bodies than you, but sometimes we have much longer hair on our heads. Like you, we wear clothing on our bodies, and on average we are taller than you, but not greatly so.”

The minister responded, “We have sound receptors under our fur, also on the sides of our heads. Of the subservient species within the Empire, most are bipedal like you and we are. We enjoy meeting those that are greatly different in body design, because they often provide us a different and refreshing perspective on the Universe than we have. They also sometimes help us to understand the Thandol better.” He sounded a bit disappointed that humans were not very different form Hothor.

“Then you are fortunate. Traveling with us is a species called the rippers, and they walk on four legs, having no hands, trunks, or tentacles at all. I suggest you meet them without a longer description, to increase your wonder at seeing their large and impressive powerful body pattern for the first time. They look fierce, and sometimes they are. However, be assured they are very intelligent and civilized, although they are a non-technological species. I think you will enjoy their perspective on the balance of life. Eventually, perhaps you will meet the Torki and Raspani, who have greatly different body plans that our two species have. The Prada are more like us humans and you Hothor, being bipedal, but I think they more resemble your people.” He didn’t describe the Krall’tapi, for obvious reasons. It wouldn’t be very reassuring to tell them the original version of the Krall might become a Federation member.

Then the third minister, of a species not permitted to explore or colonize by the Thandol, a low gravity sedate people that were said not to be very adventurous anyway, made a slip. An odd admission. “Yes, we will of course be happy to meet those three species you named as members now of your Galactic Federation. However, we were hoping to meet species that we did not already know so much about, such as their shapes and sizes. Therefore, the rippers may be the more intriguing species for us to meet.”

He and Maggi looked at each other, eyebrows raised.

“Yegleth!” The Hothor’s exclamation of surprise came from Sarge, proving he’d caught the significance of that comment as well.

Thad, just as curious, made a proposal. “I’ll go behind their big moon or another planet, White Out, and come back stealthed, to sensor scan this planet and their other colony here. They sure have odd bits of knowledge that are inconsistent with the homebodies they’re supposed to have been for the last twenty thousand years. The Torki weren’t even a space-going people yet when the Olt’kitapi died out, and the crabs have the weirdest body pattern I think we’ve seen. They, the Raspani and Prada already seem to be known to the Hothor. It’s not impossible that the Olt’kitapi described them to the Hothor so long ago, but peculiar if they did so. Pholowela implied it was a limited contact. The memory of these unmet species has lasted a long time.”

The third minister provided a coordinate system used by the Thandol to describe where they should land. There was a sizable snow covered city in the area, with a moderate sized spaceport.

Four of their five ships started down for their approach. It would be an interesting two-way first contact. The rippers were excited.

****

Maggi and Mirikami were the first down the ramp of the Mark to meet their hosts, but several Kobani in stealthed armor were not far behind, just as a precaution. On the other ships, they each opened a hold portal but didn’t extend their ramps. The openings held the presumably curious new alien onlookers, but they were there as much to provide open exit hatches for additional stealthed armored Kobani, who stood well back. They didn’t expect trouble, but they certainly were inside the borders of a hostile empire.

There were visible rippers at every portal, sniffing the strange scents, taking in the new sights, right along with the enhanced noses and eyes of their Kobani friends. The snow had been removed from the landing area, and had been pushed to the edge of the paved area, forming a lumpy white berm as high as a Hothor. There was a faint musty odor, which arrived on a breeze blowing from a group of the aliens walking towards the Mark of Koban from a large building. It wasn’t an unpleasant odor, merely different.

There were seven members of the greeting party, approaching almost in a line across, one individual centered and slightly ahead, wearing a solid colored dark brown smock, their warm moist breath drifting away in the cool air. They stopped advancing roughly twenty feet from Maggi and Tet, and all executed a combination half bow, with the right arm extended, hand cupped up in front of their faces. It clearly was a greeting, so Maggi and Tet, adlibbing and coordinating via Comtap, also stopped and each made a simple bow, but didn’t try to copy the arm and hand gesture.

The lead individual in the center spoke first. “We accept your arrival with great anticipation, and curiosity. I am Firl Jaf Semal, Chief Counselor of Canji Mot, Canji Dol, and Canji Trob. The second two named worlds are our two colonies. Dol is the second child of this star, Mother of us all, and Trob is the only child of the star we call First Sister, our more distant colony.

“May we inquire of your names, and the honored name of your home star, and the names of the human colonies?”

By Comtap to Maggi, Tet said, “This is all your ball game, dear Ambassador. You decide what to tell them, how much, and for how long.” He sent a sympathetic image of his face wearing a smirk, revealing nothing to the Hothor.

Maggi returned an image to him that was considerably less respectful, even rude, but aloud said, “Chief Counselor, I am Ambassador Maggi Fisher of the Galactic Federation, with my husband Captain Tetsuo Mirikami. Humanity has spread widely, and we have divided into multiple governments and many star systems. Those of us from these ships are from a single world named Koban, by a star we simply call a sun, as we call many stars where humans live. There is a second world near Koban with our sun, which we call Haven. That planet is the capitol world of our Federation, where representative citizens live from most of the seven species that reside within our Federation.

“There is another, and independent self-governing group comprised of only humans, who inhabit a volume of space which they call the Planetary Union, located adjacent to our Galactic Federation territory. Our two governments are separate, but the Planetary Union contains the home world of Earth, where humans originated. The two of us standing before you were once citizens of the Planetary Union, and the Federation shares common interests with the people under both governments.

“I apologize for not completing your full request at this time, but naming all of the colony worlds within the two governing regions would take too long for this first meeting. There are over seven hundred entirely human colonies in the far smaller Planetary Union and there are thousands of worlds in the much larger Galactic Federation, which accommodates our greater number of member species. The Federation includes of all of the territory ruled by the Krall, which encompasses all of the stars in the previous Olt’kitapi volume, and that of the Raspani, Torki, Prada, and the stars of the other many species destroyed by the Krall.

“I feel I should add the vital detail that we humans have expanded very rapidly, because we are highly adaptable, and we use many worlds that other species are unable to colonize, such as my home of Koban itself, where all of those visiting you today live.

“Because of this adaptability, our density of colony worlds is considerably higher than for most species, which must be more selective than are we. Humans can inhabit higher gravity worlds. Considerably higher gravity, when say, compared to your beautiful home of Canji Mot.”

By describing the two volumes of the separate governments as she had, it allowed her include the hundreds of human settled worlds in the PU, and the thousands of available worlds within the Federation, which had little or no population presently. Smoke and mirrors was the phrase that came to Mirikami’s mind. Sarge would have called it misdirection and favorable embellishment, rather than outright lying.

There was no doubt the PU wouldn’t want the aggressive and territorial Thandol Empire moving into the Orion Spur, right next door to them. Therefore, claiming that their population and worlds shared the Federation’s interests wasn’t farfetched. They just didn’t know they did yet.

The Chief Counselor looked skeptically at Maggi and Tet, and gaged the size of the two humans. At roughly the same height of the Hothor, they didn’t appear impressive enough to match the claim that they had colonized heavy planet worlds that many other species would bypass. They particularly didn’t look like they had beaten the dreaded and legendary Krall horde.

The next question itself implied his doubts as he asked, “What is it about you humans that could make you so adaptable to a greater variety of planets than most species?”

Mirikami let Maggi know by Comtap that he’d field this question. “As an example of our adaptability, I will tell you that our home world of Koban has more than twice the gravity pull of this world. We possess the strength that such a world requires, and in addition, we have a nervous system that provides us with extremely fast reaction speeds. We are able to think and react at least five times faster than any Krall warrior.

“I spoke to your Third Minister, Yida Gof Hanbi, when our ship first entered orbit. Perhaps he forgot to mention that I said we have defeated the Krall, the species that revolted against and destroyed the Olt’kitapi civilization. Perhaps you knew they continued to hold that territory, as well that of sixteen other conquered species. At least until very recently, on the longer time scales to which I believe you are more accustomed. Humanity and the Krall met just over twenty-five of our years ago, when they made the mistake of attacking us.” He paused to calculate a moment, to put this in perspective for them.

“In your local years, this was only thirty two orbits of Canji Mot around this star you called Mother of you all. The Krall had been killing, enslaving races, and expanding their territory for over thirty-one thousand of this world’s orbits around Mother. As you can see, we beat them in a relatively short time.”

By luck and a narrow margin, he thought.

He pointed out the obvious. “How else would the Federation acquire the entire Krall fleet of ships? We killed their warriors and took the clanships away from them. I doubt if the Thandol could to that. We know the Olt’kitapi certainly couldn’t, and didn’t.

“I’m surprised at your question and lack of panic when we appeared in your system, Chief Counselor. Our impression was that the Hothor knew something about the Krall. If you did, then you should know that a full complement of Krall aboard the ships we brought with us would have represented a grave threat to any of your cities, and to millions of your citizens. I suspect a single Krall warrior could easily kill hundreds of you. Yet we beat them. Because individually, a human like me, is faster, stronger, and more deadly than they are. The difference is that we are respectful of other species. We have alien allies, not subservient species, agents, or slaves.

“I don’t expect you to simply accept my word concerning our abilities, so perhaps a demonstration will serve the purpose of convincing you. At the same time, it will allow you to observe a member of the other friendly species that came with us. I think you have been straining to see the rippers standing inside the holds of our ships. Let me ask one of them to join us. The one I wish to summon is a friend of mine, and we will engage in a mock fight. I will have to move to where he can see me. Excuse me a moment.”

He could have simply Comtapped Kobalt to call him over, or asked smaller Kally to come, since she was waiting behind him inside the Mark’s hold, eager to meet these new people. But then the showing-off exercise he had in mind might have looked too tame.

Mirikami turned, ran ten bounding steps in a blur of legs, leaped on the final footfall and rose thirty feet in the air in the .72 gravity, executing a rapid series of twists and flips, opening up his tuck at the apex to call loudly to Kobalt, in the Avenger.

He’d actually been in Comtap link before he’d started, letting the ripper know what sort of show he wanted to put on for the startled Hothor. Kobalt was skeptical.

“Uncle Tet this will not be believable, even to these slow moving strangers. You are much smaller than I am, and we certainly know who is stronger.” Then his true objections leaked out in several embarrassing admissions.

“Kit and the other rippers will share the images they see here with other prides, and make fun of me. I’m the oldest male ripper and I’ll look feeble if you appear to win. My credibility and status as a pride leader could be ruined. And Miral will see me look foolish and inept.” Mirikami knew the last item was the only one that actually mattered to the big male cat.

Mirikami grinned, and teased him. “Are you some Krall kitty, worried about your status points? I need to impress these runty little aliens we’re tough. I just told them I could beat a Krall warrior, so I have to convince them it’s true. Unless you brought one of ‘em in your cabin, you’re the biggest badass we have with us. Besides, I don't need to win, a draw will do fine.”

He added, in consolation, “I’m sure Miral will reward you with a mating offer, just for making this great sacrifice of your mighty hunter’s image for the good of all.”

Kobalt’s friends and family knew the rejuvenated cat had been courting a comely younger ripper female for weeks, a member of a wild Koban pride.

“You used to be my favorite uncle. You’ll owe me a belly rub, and you will definitely have to meet with and explain this to Miral by frill contact.”

“You have it killer. Now come out here to be manhandled. Make it loud.”

Kobalt took a running leap from the Avenger, where he’d been standing next to his adoptive mother, Noreen. He screamed his deepest and loudest attack-and-pounce roar, soaring out of the portal and making an impossibly high looking arc in the low gravity, headed directly towards the oncoming Mirikami.

Hitting the tarmac, running to meet Kobalt, Mirikami exchanged a series of Comtap ideas with the cat, to choreograph the action before they met. Claws needed to be extended and fangs exposed to make it appear dangerous, and not being a fool, Tet wanted Kobalt to be on the same page with him to avoid an accident. They had med labs with them of course, but being placed in one right after this demonstration wouldn’t exactly leave the impression he wanted.

Kobalt’s response to Tet’s first idea was, “Really? My hind claws would still tear your belly open, even if I did slow down my reaction speed.”

“OK then, if I can’t grab your front paws and fall back to flip you over me with my feet, what do you suggest?”

“Die honorably, like any prey that faces a ripper. Without a rhinolo’s horn, hide, and mass, you’re dead meat.”

“Then let me go over the top, grab you and put my arms around your neck, choke you until you turn blue,” was his counter proposal.

“Very funny,” the teal colored predator told him. “You’d better hold on tight. The ride might get rough.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll let you live, since you’re almost my fourth favorite nephew.”

“Now you’ll have to go hunting with me, give me two belly rubs, and you still have to frill Miral.”

“All you think about is hunting, pampering, and sex.”

“Of course. I’m an apex predator.”

“Ha. Tell that to a whiteraptor or a K-Rex.” Those were two animals a ripper couldn’t face without a pride to back them.

“Not funny. Just for that stinging remark, you should ask Aunt Maggi to warm up a med lab.”

Maggi, linked into the teasing byplay, along with the rest of the complement, warned them both. “Don’t you hurt your uncle, and he’d best not hurt you. Neither of you are apex predators with me around.”

“She’s got you there,” Sarge chimed in.

This had all passed in barely a second, what with the speed of their nervous systems and thoughts. When they met a few seconds later, they were fully focused on what they had agreed to do.

They would slow the movements of their limbs, to allow the Hothor to be able to see what went on. Their final closing leaps, after crossing the half-mile gap, was coordinated so they met twenty feet above the ground. Mirikami, diving through the air headfirst at Kobalt, used his left hand to swat down as hard as he could on Kobalt’s right paw, gaining a slight upward momentum as he caused the cat to rotate to its right side.

Kobalt made a swipe with his left claws, which naturally barely missed the target as Mirikami rose higher and twisted away. When the massive head rose toward Mirikami, with jaws agape and snarling, the man darted his left hand up to push on the top of the head, thus gaining another few inches of separation as Kobalt’s ears passed slightly below. Mirikami used that same left hand to grasp the cat’s large furry right ear, which was conveniently extended straight up, rather than laid back as when in a real-life attack. He gripped the ear tightly, to swing his body over the cat, his chest dropping to press against the ripper’s withers, his own legs and knees clasped tightly against Kobalt’s flanks. He made sure to keep his feet and knees above the under curve of the belly as Kobalt had coached him, so that when the ripper clawed wildly with his back feet, as if to sink claws into his opponent’s limbs to tear the rider off, he would find only air.

Mirikami simultaneously slipped his right arm around Kobalt’s neck, and dropped his left hand from the ear to interlock his fingers with his right hand under the thick neck, and tightened his grip and squeezed, his arms just below the com set collar Kobalt wore, creating a convincing appearance of choking off the cat’s airway.

The fleshy ridge of the frill made this look more convincing, as it was pushed aside by the human’s arm pressed tight against the underside of the neck. With this close physical contact established, Koban frilled his thoughts directly to Mirikami.

“Ouch! You pulled a tendon in my ear. You’d better hang on because the landing will be on two feet. You caused me to rotate with that unnecessarily hard paw slap.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch. You’re a cat, land on all four feet.”

Similar to an Earth cat, Kobalt twisted his body violently in midair, to reorient himself to land on all fours. He came down cushioned by muscular legs, and promptly sprang up in a spinning and body-twisting move as if to throw off the man clinging around his neck and on his back. Mirikami, forced to use all his strength, squeezed tighter with arms and knees to stay in place, his face pressed to the side of Kobalt’s neck.

As planned, the two of them repeated the same wild action several more times, with a full head-over-paws body flip once, always moving closer to where Maggi stood, watching the action with a critical eye. The seven Hothor were backing away, fearing to be caught in an apparent desperate fight, which looked so violent and moved so fast that they had trouble following all that was happening. The Third Minister and a scientist who understood what the superfast gymnastics and impossible high leaps implied about these new people, each inadvertently revealed how fear could affect a Hothor. Two steaming dark stains suddenly appeared on the frozen tarmac, as incontinence struck them both.

The final spinning twist by Kobalt was to have included one more of his deep-throated base note roars, to come exactly as he dropped down next to Maggi, with Mirikami smoothly sliding off his back to stand beside his wife.

Was to have included another roar was the operational phrase. Embarrassingly, when Kobalt tried to implement that final detail, it triggered a coughing fit and a sudden gasp for air. Mirikami, as he slid off, still had his left hand on the frill and was immediately concerned.

“What’s the matter? Are you OK?”

“What do you think, you overachieving maniac? You nearly choked me into unconsciousness. I had to do all that flipping and twisting while holding my last breath when we started. I almost decided on that last flip to roll to my side to try to scrape you off.”

“I’m really sorry. I didn’t know I was actually strong enough to strangle you. You should’ve frilled me.”

“You would have let go and spoiled our demonstration. It worked. Look at the Hothor and their expressions. Smell their fear?”

Mirikami looked over at the cowed figures. “Yes, and pee. I smell pee.”

“Well, when I can get my breath back, perhaps I will too.” He hacked again, as if he had a big blue hairball caught in his throat.

Maggi had a wry suggestion. “Perhaps you’d like to stop exchanging odor descriptions and get back to the task at hand. Please show these petrified VIPs you two are really friends.”

“Sure.” Mirikami unthinkingly rubbed Kobalt’s injured right ear, before the repeated “ouch!” caused him to simply drape his arm across Kobalt’s neck, just as the big cat sat back on his haunches.

“Here you go dear uncle,” Kobalt turned his head and slopped a big, wet, rough tongue, right along the left side of Mirikami’s face.

“Thanks,” was Mirikami’s insincere reply.

Maggi stepped forward to address the Hothor delegation. “Please do not be alarmed. This was merely a physical demonstration, by two close friends, done as an illustration of how we really were capable of fighting and beating Krall warriors. We also had a number of technological advantages.”

The seven figures straightened at her words, and at the sight of the two former apparent adversaries now acting so friendly. Unless the big predator was simply sampling a taste of its next meal with that lick.

Proving that urinating was a common fear response for them, none of the Hothor seemed embarrassed at the urine on the ground, and when they summoned their courage to walk closer, they merely stepped over the small steaming puddles cooling on the pavement.

The Chief Counselor sounded considerably less skeptical with his first words. “I would have liked the Ragnar Commander to have seen what those two just did. I doubt he would act as smug to you humans as they do to us, after watching you move. Particularly against such a huge adversary. Of course, this has all been recorded as part of a historical first meeting, and I’ll want to see the images in slow motion.”

Mirikami told him honestly, “You do understand, we were not truly fighting. I wanted to provide you with a measure of our unarmed physical ability. When you look at me, a human, that sort of combat potential is not obvious. It clearly is evident in my large ripper friend here, who is named Kobalt, by the way. He’s a native of the planet Koban, where my wife and I now make our home.”

From the small Torki device on Kobalt’s collar issued a clear deep voice, speaking in the Thandol tongue. “I am honored to meet you First Counselor.” Kobalt bowed his head in imitation of the bow Maggi and Mirikami had made a short time ago.

The Hothor repeated his previous bow, right arm extended, hand cupped up. “It is with a shiver of excitement I meet you, Kobalt. You are very impressive.”

“Thank you. I am excited to participate in this first meeting with your people. All of the rippers with us are excited. This is a first experience for us, to travel to another world to meet a new species that didn’t first come to meet us on our own world. You said you would have liked a Ragnar Commander to see our demonstration. Is he your military leader?”

The First Counselor made a sidewise motion with his right hand, an apparent gesture of negation based on his next words. “No. He is not a leader of ours, and not a Hothor. My people are not permitted to form a military defense force. He is a member of the Ragnar race and a military leader of one of the three minor security forces for the Thandol. The Ragnar are the most fearsome of the three species the Thandol have assigned to security duties in the Empire. Commander Gimtal Thond is his name. The military force he leads enforces the Empire’s laws and the Emperor’s personal edicts, and collects taxes in this region of the Empire. They show little respect for any people in this third of the empire, unless you are a Thandol, of course.”

“First Counselor, these three security forces are some of the subject matter we wish to discuss with you. It is why we approached your world in a cautious and slow manner, to prevent the Thandol from detecting our visit to you, and to shield you from their inquiries. We are aware that you once were visited by the Olt’kitapi, long ago, when they were facing difficulties with the Thandol Empire, and you were informative to them. We seek the same level of help, in the form of information only. Perhaps we can move our discussion to some location less public?”

This time, the hand gesture moved up and down. “Yes. There is a government building at the edge of the spaceport, where we seven walked from after you landed. That is where I meet with official visitors when I’m in my winter home here. Ambassador, we can walk the short distance there if that is acceptable, or I can summon motorized conveyances. We will offer you food and drink, but we will not be offended if you refuse. Naturally, foods of many worlds contain toxic or objectionable substances for different species. You are welcome to bring your own consumables, or the means to test what we offer you, for compatibility with your biology. ”

“Thank you Chief Counselor, we would prefer to walk with you as we talk, and to enjoy this cool and lovely day. May others of our group come with us? Everyone is interested in learning about your people, about your food and your customs. We want you to learn about us as well. We have portable food testers and chemical analyzers, which we will bring with us.”

She stepped closer to him and made a socially appropriate proposal, “A gesture of friendly greeting among humans is the clasping of the right hands with others, if they have hands, as a sign of respect, an offer of friendship, and a demonstrated willingness to engage in personal contact. Would that gesture offend you, or be contrary to any customs of your own?”

“Not at all. This is something we value, exploring the cultural differences when we meet with another species. We wish to find commonalities and similar goals to share with other races, and discover interesting cultural differences that can enrich us both. It is largely denied to us by the Thandol, for other than our nearest trading neighbors.

“I will gladly exchange a hand touch with you. I will however, withhold one of our common greeting customs, at least until our people know one another better. Body fluid presentations proved inappropriate for all of our friendly close alien neighbors, and certainly for the Thandol and the Ragnar, who act superior to any other species.” His hand swept down towards the two wet spots soaking into the pavement.

“Uh…, Yes.” She temporized. Trying to imagine how that mutual body fluid presentation would take place. “That particular custom should be examined more closely at a future date, and fully understood before we consider exploring that.”

She extended her open right hand, and the First Counselor, his inch long claws curled in with the points pressed into his own palm, extended his own clinched right hand. The loose grip and mild handshake lasted perhaps fifteen seconds, but Maggi made a comment as they did so, to distract from the length of time.

“With the Thandol Empire being so controlling, we might encounter opposition to our species forming a mutual friendship with your people. I think what we discuss should not be of concern to them or to the Ragnar.”

Had she not already known from Pholowela how the Hothor previously felt about the Thandol, she wouldn’t have said that. She doubted that an additional twenty thousand years of suppression and dominance by their oppressors would have softened that position.

The thoughts from the unguarded mind, which she sensed from that contact, confirmed her suspicions, and in fact, she was rather surprised at the vehemence the leader felt towards the Thandol, and for the Ragnar. It didn’t appear that it would be necessary to hide Federation intentions of countering the ambitions of the Empire, not with this leader and probably not with his ministers, if his was a typical Hothor attitude.

In that case, their discussions might very well prove to be of considerable concern to the Empire.

****

The Hothor proved to be a fountain of information, and even had their own two representatives on the largely ineffective Advisors Council, in the Emperors Court on Wendal, a Thandol colony planet controlled by the extended Farlol family. The fifteen subservient species, with a combined thirty members, had little real impact on decisions made by the Empire. Six of those representatives were from the three security force species, and normally acted like rubber stamps for whatever the Empire wanted them to say.

The Ragnar, Finth, and the Thack Delos, the more influential three security force races, were on the council mainly as “proof” that all of the empire’s member species had an equal say in advising the Emperor. This council promulgated the sham that those three races had no more influence than the other races did on policy decisions, which concerned the lesser status species in the Empire. For vital decisions, such as anything that concerned the well-being of the Thandol themselves, the Advisors Council had no influence at all.

In addition, the dozen lower status species furnished most of the servant class hired help to the ruling classes, including the three most favored security force species. There were a large number of the lower classes on Wendal, who had access to the backrooms of the Emperor’s court, and to private conversations outside the hearing of the ruling family. Plots, conspiracies, and double-dealings were abundant.

The twelve lower status races often shared the rumors, details of palace intrigue, and intelligence gathering that was uncovered, unless it could specifically benefit their own people to keep it a secret, of course. The task was made easier by the arrogant Thandol speaking loudly through their trunks, often oblivious to the presence of underlings around them, as if they were furniture. Not that their bugling manner of speaking lent itself well to hushed whispers anyway.

There was a sort of silent patois the Thandol could use for private conversations, which involved their small tentacles, and trunk gestures. Although, an informed alien observer of their gestures could discern what the discussion was about, because they were really only trying to prevent other Thandol from overhearing.

The low caste “furniture” was considered too thick headed to comprehend the intricacies of the complex gesture language, since the subservient races had never evolved the superior organs necessary for its expression. That meant they often didn’t have secrets from the hired help. Not that the servants always had the means to act on the information they gained, but knowing what was about to happen was comforting, and represented a form of trade goods with other low status species.

****

When the discussions ended for the day, the hungry Kobani and rippers headed back to their ships. Their food analyzers had determined that the right-handed amino acids found on Canji Mot wouldn’t be digestible, even though most of the food items didn’t contain chemicals that would be dangerously toxic to consume.

In reply to Maggi’s complaint of being hungry, Sarge said, “I found the sweet-tart taste of their fruit pastry was appealing. It contained nothing toxic for us, even if we can’t digest and use it nutritionally. It had a marvelous taste, and my stomach feels fuller.”

Maggi snickered and said, “Wait until morning, numb skull. Not only will you be starved, but also what you eat when you get back to your ship won’t stay with you either. You’ll be up half the night, with the fast-trot, dribbley-never-get-overs. You’d better plan on sleeping next to or on your ceramic throne tonight.”

“We’ll see,” was his lame retort. He could feel his intestines warning him of possible future events. He’d never admit it if he experienced the level of discomfort that she had warned him might visit.

Noreen was amazed at how prescient Maggi’s predictions of the Emperor’s court had been. “The way the Hothor described things at court, the second class citizens are often the first to know when the throne is about to change, when the rumor mills are full of complaints about the current Emperor, or show dissatisfaction with how the ruling family is abusing their power. The present Emperor has been in place for roughly ten years, and he hasn’t alienated his own supporters, although he’s not made the other powerful families very happy.”

Maggi agreed, but said, “The subservient races that watch the court so closely, mainly use the information for positioning themselves to avoid being drawn into the conflict when an emperor is replaced, or find a way to obtain a trade advantage with some faction or other, when the previous corrupt regulators are about to be tossed out of power.

“They never try to manipulate or alter a power shift, to control what direction it will take, in order to obtain their own best advantage. They could offer what they know to Thandol factions that might reward their entire planet for critical information on what another family is planning. They just try to get safely out of the way, to avoid conflict.”

Mirikami objected. “You expect them to act like us. They’re simply being true to their passive natures. It’s why the Thandol was able to take them over in the first place, and force them to accept the limitations imposed on them. They don't form alliances or defiant coalitions, as we would do, let alone fight back. It’s like criticizing them for being what they can’t help being. Nonaggressive. I think we can help them, but only if we can keep the Empire from stomping us flat.

“I think the Olt’kitapi only held them at bay initially because of the advanced technology they had, and wisely refused to share it with them. They tried to pull them into a joint vast habitat construction project, where their mutual interests in maintaining a stable solar system, and an economic trade dependency would have forced the Thandol to adopt modes of cooperative behavior.

“Had the Krall not turned on the Olt’kitapi, it might have worked. If the subservient races in the Empire escaped Thandol control, including their enforcer species, the empire might have been forced to moderate their ambitions. It’s another way to temper the actions of a bully. Make it advantageous to them to moderate their behavior and cooperate.”

“I can see that as an Olt’kitapi strategy.” Maggi agreed. “It’s essentially what they were doing with the Krall’tapi, but failed to limit the regular Krall’s access to the weapons technology. Probably because they saw the threat of the empire, and sought more defenders, sooner than they could alter the Krall’s hyper-aggressive tendencies. Their plan to fight fire with fire exploded and consumed them.”

Dillon shook his head. “It’s too bad they didn’t meet us first.”

“What? Normal humanity?” Maggi asked skeptically. “Things might not have gotten as far out of hand, but humans have not been very altruistic in the past. We might have been a different kind of disaster waiting for the Olt’kitapi to find.”

“No, I meant us, the Kobani!”

“Lucky you, to be on the other side of your wife where I can’t thump your head. Why would there have ever been any Kobani if the Krall hadn’t been around to kidnap and dump us on Koban.”

“Uh…, you know what I mean.”

“I do, and I hope what we have become will be as beneficial to the other species we encounter in the galaxy as you imply. Remember, at our core, we’re still as human as the people in the Hub.”

“We possess one vital difference, an improvement in conscience I think.” Mirikami offered.

“How’s that?” Noreen wondered.

“Due to Mind Tap, and the ripper sense of balance for what was once termed the circle of life. As rippers do, we sense the minds of those we encounter. Even if we need to kill to defend ourselves, and others. Rippers kill to eat and survive, but don’t kill wantonly.

“We Kobani, as a group, not always individually, have become less willing to destroy all of the lives of those we fight, and even hate. It’s why some of the Krall continue to exist. We’ll fight and kill in combat, of course, but the ability to empathize with other minds was never before a human characteristic. We are better able to understand other species, and capable of pulling back from the compete destruction of one even as odious as are the Krall.”

He shrugged. “Dillon is right, even though his statement seems contradictory. The Olt’kitapi would have fared better had they met a people as we are now. We may have become the defenders they needed back then. Assuming of course, we ever become numerous enough to protect all those that we are already committed to defending. The Empire is large and powerful, and the Thandol are smarter than the Krall, with greater technology.”

They had been linking via Comtap with the complements of all five ships throughout the meeting. It had been quickly decided that too many Kobani and rippers all in one place wasn’t prudent, even though the Hothor appeared to be as cooperative as Pholowela’s records suggested they had been previously. Of course, Thad and his crew on the Ripper had monitored the talks as they had scanned Canji Mot for things of interest, without finding anything unusual. Based on several arrivals and departures at other spaceports, it didn’t appear the Hothor had T-cubed ships. Those would be essential for traveling to visit the former Olt’kitapi region of stars in the Orion Spur. How they had known so much about the species the Olt’kitapi had met so long ago still wasn’t known

Thad then used his Normal Space drive to travel to Canji Dol, the colony planet in the same system. At the uncompensated accelerations the Kobani and rippers could tolerate, they reached the other colony world in just under five hours. A Jump, with a subsequent arrival White Out would have taken only seconds, but that would have been impossible to hide at the moonless second world.

The Ripper had been involved with performing scans of what was a heavily forested world, with a warmer and moister climate due to its location, orbiting closer to the star the Hothor called Mother. It had an even lower surface gravity than did Canji Mot at .62 of a standard gravity, and appeared to be predominately rain forests at mid-latitudes, with perhaps half the surface covered with what sensors showed were shallow seas.

There were numerous towns, but no large cities as were seen on their home planet, and no signs of significant industrialization or mining. From the talks, it was learned that this colony’s most important exports were things that grew there. One high profit item was a moss found on the shady sides of the rainforest trees, which had important medicinal uses for the Hothor, and was in high demand as a safe non-addictive recreational drug by one of their trading partners, located twenty light years away.

There was nothing of commercial interest to the Thandol produced there, so they had never shown any inclination to visit the backward world, which the Hothor resisted fully developing. The Ragnar were sensitive to the bites of several varieties of small flies found there, and they didn’t like the heat and high humidity due to their thick dark fur, which was no protection from the tiny flies. Their four-inch fur also matted, which the fastidious creatures hated and liked to keep combed and groomed when possible. They didn’t inspect the towns there very often, and never ventured into the rain forests unless they wore cooling suits or armor.

It was explained, and pictures supported the description, that those aliens vaguely resembled tall hairy humans, with heavy bodies and thicker arms and legs. Maggi, with her interest in old Earth history, was the one to note that they resembled the legendary Bigfoot tales, where unsubstantiated sightings were claimed to be common in the pre-space flight era.

The Ragnar could also have passed for an upright, hairy faced black mountain gorilla, with long muscular arms and legs. They commonly wore only backpacks, utility belts, and sometimes wide flat shoes in mild or cold climates. They were said to be exceptionally fast runners, quite strong, and deadly fighters that enjoyed their scary reputations. They preferred worlds with gravity of around .9 g, and would sometimes live on worlds as high as a standard gravity or slightly more.

The Ragnar soldiers commonly clipped the long facial hair from around their large black eyes, to provide clear vison for aiming and firing their plasma and laser rifles, with which they were supposed to be quite proficient. They also had powered bulky armor, with stealth capability in visual and infrared frequencies, but it required extra power for cooling their big hairy bodies down.

The Ragnar didn’t spend much time on Canji Dol either, so it had an allure for some of the Hothor, who could pretend they lived free of the intrusions of the Empire. That freedom came at some cost of discomfort, since the heat was also higher than the Hothor liked. A local plant extract, which if consumed in small quantities, repelled the flies that caused the Ragnar such misery. Delightfully, the colony too was a world of right-handed amino acids, so the Ragnar and Thandol couldn’t consume the plant. Not that any Thandol wanted to set a single one of their four, superior and exalted feet on Canji Dol anyway.

They had reached the cluster of their four ships, where they were pausing before splitting up to enter their own ships. A day of meeting with new aliens had been exciting for all of them, but it was exhilarating for the rippers. They were eager to keep talking of the new experience.

Kally, perhaps because she was young and physically smaller than the other three rippers who had visited the Hothor this first day, had actually had the only opportunity to frill two of them. They had finally worked up the courage to touch her neck, just before they were leaving for the day. Kally had invited the contact, explaining the area was sensitive. It was true, so she didn’t speak falsely, something rippers never did anyway. Except, the sensitivity she meant was for frilling, and not the pleasure of the tentative and gentle touches they made.

“I asked if they had ever had contact with a Thandol, or if I was the first four legged alien they had met and touched. I could see in their mental images, they had never touched a Thandol, although they have seen them in person often. It seems the Thandol don’t like other species to touch them. There was recognition, from each of them, that I was the first alien with four legs they personally had ever met. Then, there was a fleeting thought from just one of them, of knowing people with six limbs.

“I couldn’t reveal I had caught a stray thought, of course, but I immediately asked if they had ever met a species like the Raspani, with six limbs. They both quickly said no, but both of them actually have, and I think often. Because the topic was about limbs, from one of them I saw a brief image of long slender limbs, which were definitely not the chubby legs and arms of a Raspani. They were also purple colored. I was reluctant to ask again about different aliens with six legs because they had been secretive by their denial. I do not have the skill of someone like Maggi, to guide them into thinking the thoughts I want them to have.”

Maggi touched her frill, and asked if she would recall the image of the limbs. It had indeed been a brief thought by the Hothor, but something about the angular surfaces of the limbs seemed somehow familiar to her.

“I’ve seen something like that, but I can’t remember where or when. I don’t think it was a firsthand memory of something I saw, or I’d know immediately. I think it was an image like this one, which was shared from someone else.” She shook her head, as if that would jog the memory loose. “I’ll remember it eventually, when I’m not trying.”

They spoke their parting words for the day, and would resume their dialogue with the Hothor tomorrow. They hadn’t pressed to pump them for too much information on the military ability of the Thandol or Ragnar, focusing first on developing a basis for trust and understanding. From their eagerness, it was obvious that the Hothor were sincere in their desire to meet and share their cultural and social differences, as well as similarities, with humans and rippers. It was no surprise that the rippers, with a simple, direct, completely open attitude, was the most appealing to them.

Showing he still had a spring in his step after a long day, Mirikami leaped over the extended ramp without touching it, landing in the open portal facing out. The snow-covered peaks around them were ablaze with the light of the setting red tinted sun.

He was waiting for Maggi and Kally to join him, so they could eat the meal someone had made for them, after the daylong meeting broke up and they’d admitted they were all famished. Then, a link from Thad made him forget about food.

“Tet! The Hothor are hiding something on this colony, and it isn’t T-cubed ships. They’ve been hiding something in the rainforests over here at Canji Dol, surely for a hell of a long time. If it wasn’t for bill Saber’s interest in alien wildlife, and the particular suite of automated sensors our ships have, I don’t think we would have seen it.”

“Seen what?”

“They have something other than Hothor living and hiding under those trees. There’s a type of artificial camouflage covering a huge swath of forest, which presents an appearance identical to the normal thick jungle crown, and it’s a high tech active camouflage material. There must be quite a few examples of what’s living under there, because we measured perhaps a hundred thousand square miles of that covering. There are real local birds living in the fake treetops, or rather bird analogues that are nesting and flying around. Bill Saber noticed that all of the birds living in a sizable area of rainforest were different types than he saw elsewhere, with different colors from those living in the trees of other areas we scanned.”

It sounded like Thad had stumbled onto something to Mirikami, but it could have a prosaic explanation. “OK, they are hiding some sort of secret. You said high-tech cover material. What do you mean?”

“When Bill asked me to look closer, I saw that it presents an IR spectrum that is like the real forests areas, but it’s too perfect for such a large area. There should be some random irregularities, as you see when a cliff face causes a break in the trees. Perhaps where a stream cuts through, or lightening caused a fire that caused a patch of regrowth. There was only bland uniformity.

“I also couldn’t detect a single animal moving on the ground anywhere in the IR spectrum, as we could for the other forest areas. It also doesn’t provide a realistically variable radar reflection. I didn’t even try the active radar scan at first, which gives our presence away, not until I was convinced they were hiding something like a secret Hothor military complex. It’s certainly not that. I think it might be another alien race, or at least something alive that’s not native to this star system.”

“How did you arrive at their hiding other aliens or living creatures as being their secret?”

“When even the radar returns seemed too uniform, because the reflections looked as homogenous as had the passive IR scans, I told, Buford, my AI, to use the full range of sensors built into these former clanships. I asked him to try to penetrate the camouflage to the real surface, using different frequencies of various types of radiation. Sort of like how the Krall finally learned how to use long wave radio frequencies see our ships through the improved stealth the Torki gave us.”

“And?”

“First, link Maggi in, and anyone else that might have a clue as to what I found from the images. Maggi once shared an image that almost matches these, but I didn’t pay careful attention at the time.”

In a second, Maggi and several others were waiting to learn what Thad found.

“What is it you think I might recognize Thad?” Her curiosity was aroused.

“Maggi, these images were obtained using a microwave frequency, which apparently had the exact short wavelength needed to pass through some small weave gaps in the material of a camouflage covering that looks like a forest top. No other frequencies we tried worked, and even then, only this single wavelength passed through. The short wavelength made detailed images possible, if slightly blurred by our orbital motion. The undulations of the covering effects the images where it drapes from the trees. They may not all be real trees anyway, since a falling dead tree would pull down the canopy.” He sent them mental images of what he’d observed on the zoomed-in sensor screen. It was of objects on the ground under the trees. The pictures lacked color, of course, and they were all in shades of black to gray. There were structures visible, with wide roadways between them. In some of the open areas, were those living creatures? The term creatures seemed to fit better than the word animals.

Maggi sucked in her breath. “Except for a lack of color in these images, the limbs on those things look very similar to a brief image a Hothor inadvertently flashed to Kally today. However, the body shapes and postures just triggered a memory for me I’d tried to recall earlier. That memory was of an image of creatures shaped like these, standing close to a large structure that Pholowela once shared with me.”

“So, do you think they’re creatures the Hothor have to raise in hiding, perhaps because they’re some sort of valuable, but illegal biological specimens?” Thad asked her.

She shook her head. “No. They’re the Olt’kitapi.”

Chapter 15: Snug as a Bug in a Rug

Mirikami called for the questions and discussion to pause. The room and their Comtap links had been abuzz with speculation. They had called back to Haven, to notify President Stewart, the Raspani, Torki and the Prada of their discovery.

When it became obvious that the Olt’kitapi issue was overshadowing the reports of their initial contact with the Hothor, Mirikami reminded them why they were even here.

“We are on the verge of a new conflict with a huge empire with unknown military capability. We know little more other than they want all of the former Olt’kitapi territory, as well as what the Krall conquered. If we confront the Hothor, about what we know about their colony world, we may lose them as a useful source of information, and a potential sympathetic ally. I’m sure the Thandol have no idea any of their former competitors have survived inside their own borders.” He quickly warned them to hold the questions they’d been letting fly.

“We can’t answer the question of how any of the Olt’kitapi survived and made it here, so let’s hold the speculations for now. The apparent racial suicide, when they destroyed the Krall world of Kronos, obviously wasn’t total. Our impression from the Dismantler ships was that the wave of deaths they sensed through Tachyon Space, via their mind enhancers, overwhelmed them. Much as it did Dismantlers, after they learned their actions caused massed deaths. They choose to either die, or couldn’t prevent their own deaths.”

“The question I see, which we have to ask ourselves now, is do we let the Hothor know what we discovered, or not? We can’t be sure how they’ll react to our snooping.”

“We can explain our suspicions as our excuse for the scans,” Sarge proposed. “Now we know how they knew so much about what the Torki, Prada, and Raspani looked like. Their guests told them. We’ll certainly keep their secret.”

Maggi said, “That might appease them, but we don’t know much about their psychology yet. It could turn them obstinate. I think we need to find a way, through the Hothor, to make contact with their guests. The Olt’kitapi may have been knocked low, but they were a great civilization once, and there are technological advances of theirs we might be able to use.”

Mirikami supported that view. “We need all the allies we can get, even if they aren’t strong now. The Planetary Union is probably going to blame us for any threatening new neighbor on their borders, like the Empire, but they can’t ignore them. We’ll eventually have to get them to ally with us, again.”

“We basically beat the Krall on our own.” Ethan boasted.

“Not exactly. We disarmed them, setting them up for defeat. The PU military is still beating them, on the ground on K1, Poldark, Bollovstic, and have already wiped out their newest invasion force on New Dublin. We could have eventually finished the job ourselves, but we don’t have the number of fighters needed for that, and because of Mind Tap ability, we don’t really have the mental disposition needed for that sort of extended repetitive slaughter.

“Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t think we’re morally better than Normals are, but humans in the PU military have never experienced the minds of aliens, or even of each other. It’s easier to kill when you’ve never known the other side’s viewpoint, experienced the thoughts and pains of those that die. Although, a typical Krall’s mind is no picnic to Tap, and they felt justified in anything they did to other species. We have found commonality with other species, making us more accepting of external differences. Nevertheless, I found it disturbingly easy to want to kill the Krall, and that forced me to think about how doing that would change me for the worse. Would change all of us.”

Thad, using his slower Normal Space drive to return to Canji Mot, reminded them why they needed the PU’s help again. “The Federation’s population, particularly we Kobani and rippers, who are the ones that can fight the most effectively, is limited. I don't know if we can fight the Empire off alone, so we need all the bodies we can get on our side, which means the PU. We have a powerful leverage to apply to them. I doubt that the Thandol, if they take over the Federation’s new territory, will accept the far smaller volume of Human Space right next door to remain independent.”

“Thad’s point is one I was leading up to. That we can’t afford to alienate potential allies, the PU, or disaffected factions within the Empire. The Hothor have shielded the remnants of the Olt’kitapi, so they and those remnants represent the sort of loyalty we need with us in the face of the Empire’s aggression. I know we haven’t encountered every military technological development the Empire has.”

Jakob interrupted the discussions and opinion offerings after another few minutes. “Attention, there are several vehicles approaching us from the building you recently visited. The Hothor tracking radars have activated again, and are scanning the space between Canji Mot and Canji Dol.”

Mirikami knew the cat was out of the bag. “Thad, they must be looking for you, and they’re coming to demand an explanation. Clearly, they know where you have been. No casual walk over this time to meet us. That’s pretty damned brave of them, in my opinion. How do you figure they spotted you?”

“Buford reported radar and laser scans almost as soon as Jakob did, and because we’re still several light minutes out, we also picked up some from behind us, originating from Canji Dol that hasn’t reached you yet. My guess is that my brief microwave sweep of that forest camouflage was noticed by the Hothor or Olt’kitapi.”

Maggi sighed. “Oh well. We needed to broch this delicate subject with them in some way. I hate to say Sarge was right, but his explanation of why we went looking over there is not only plausible, it’s true. That’s a deviation from his normal pattern of lie until you’re caught method. We’re already caught, so we won’t lie.”

Mirikami was decided. “We’ll finish our meal later. Let’s meet them at the door so to speak. After seeing what we and rippers are capable of, I don’t expect trouble from them, but I want twenty people per ship in armor, stealthed and out on the ramp around the ships, just in case. Heat up plasma chambers and the cannon barrels. Thad, I know you will anyway, but keep sensors watching for anything launching from here or their moon.”

He ordered only a single portal opened, with no ramp extended, and went down to wait for their arrival.

As they pulled up to the Mark of Koban, Mirikami had each ship’s external coating set to emit a soft silvery glow, to illuminate the surroundings. That eliminated any shadows from the direction of any ship, because the Kobani already outside in armor cast no shadows. This would appear reassuring to the Hothor, who were behaving a bit less timid than they had at the first meeting this morning anyway.

The Chief Counselor, recognizable by his brown front smock, and his shading of grayer fur around his face, stepped from the lead vehicle, followed by his three ministers. No one exited the other two truck-like transports.

Jorl Breaker, in charge of the Kobani in armor cautioned them. “IR shows there are perhaps twenty Hothor total, with rifles of some type, in the two trucks.”

Mirikami acknowledged the report. “They’re braver than I expected of them. Let’s not jump the gun and force any of them to die bravely, OK?”

Maggi, by agreement, spoke to the Hothor first. “Chief Counselor, we know why you have returned to talk with us so soon, and we understand that this could not wait until morning. I assure you that we will protect your secret, for you and for the Olt’kitapi’s sake. We came here seeking a sympathetic listener and a confidant. We may have found two allies instead.”

The widening of the eyes, and his mouth dropping open, appeared to be evidence she had caught the Hothor completely by surprise, before he could make his accusation or a demand, whichever tactic had been planned.

“You took advantage of our trust.” He complained, not bothering to deny anything.

“Chief Counselor, it was your prior knowledge of what some members of our Federation looked like, when you said you had never met any of them. That drew our own suspicions. We are the outnumbered visitors deep inside the Empire’s borders, visiting one of their potentially loyal member races. We have already been attacked twice by the Empire, and in the first meeting, they killed all but one human member of a new colony. We couldn’t afford you the luxury of complete trust, and then you revealed that you knew something of the members of our recently formed Galactic Federation. If you knew nothing about us, how did you know anything about how some of our members looked?”

That shifted the Counselor from the outrage he had arrived with, to a posture of defense. “We have never left the Empire’s boundaries since we were absorbed by them, long before we even met the Olt’kitapi. Our knowledge of those other species has come from descriptions of them, due to long association with the Olt’kitapi refugees, who arrived here as adolescents.

“Ambassador, I believe you are overestimating how strong an ally we, or they, can be to you. We cannot help you fight the Empire. The Olt’kitapi living on Canji Dol no longer possesses the advanced civilization they once had. Their ancestors arrived here as pre-adults, without mind enhancers or availability of adult education. Although they are more intelligent that we are, they could offer no significant resistance to any of the forces the Thandol might send against us. Certainly not the Olt’kitapi, and probably not even we Hothor, would be permitted to survive a revelation to the Empire that we’ve sheltered their former adversaries.”

“I assure you, with complete truthfulness, we are not going to let the Empire discover your kindness to the Olt’kitapi. We will depart here with the same degree of stealth as used for our arrival. Our other ship, the one that visited Canji Dol, is using a form of stealth that is more advanced than what the Olt’kitapi built into the Krall clanships. It is returning here now. It was our space borne protection, in the event the Thandol suddenly appeared at your call, to capture or attack us.”

“We told you truthfully, we do not have that communications capability and would not call them in any case, and you understand why we would not now. You do have that capability, as do the Thandol in what you named Tachyon Space, but they can only use it while within that alternate universe, while traveling. You have the advantage of doing it while still in this Universe. We were told the Olt’kitapi once had that technology.”

Maggi nodded, despite not knowing if the Hothor understood the gesture. “We know that they could communicate that way. We learned it from a remnant of their former civilization.” She was of course referring to the AI minds of the Dismantlers, but the Chief Counselor thought she meant something else.

In amazement, he asked, “You have contacted the Olt’kitapi guests of the Emperor, now located on Wendal? We didn’t think they had mind enhancers.”

Maggi and Tet shared a look, and he took the lead here. “Are you saying the Thandol have Olt’kitapi prisoners?”

“I thought that was what you meant, when you said you had learned of the Olt’kitapi communications ability from a remnant of their civilization. We were not the only ones to recover a ship escaping the Krall revolt. There were others, which also had eggs and immature ones aboard, with all the adults being deceased. The Thandol recently revealed they had such guests, although we too assumed they have been held against their will.

“This was two orbits ago, when the Thandol began to speak of a grand expansion of the Empire. They offered to reclaim the stars the Olt’kitapi had lost to the Krall, on their behalf of course, and to add them to the Empire. They say they have permission of the surviving descendants of the former rulers of the Olt’kitapi Empire, who have agreed to become subjects of Emperor Farlol, the eighty-fourth.

“The descendants we have protected do not know of those others, and they do not believe they have agreed to what the Thandol says they have. They tell us they would never grant the rights to the Thandol to rule over any of the species they once helped, or had once known as neighbors, because they never had an empire that ruled over them. Until you told us you had defeated the Krall this morning, we could not understand how the Empire gained the courage to confront what was described as maniacal and genocidal killers, who swarmed to attack any species they encountered, and which controlled the most feared Olt’kitapi weapons ever devised.”

“But they didn’t mention us humans, and the fact that we are the ones who had defeated the Krall?”

“Not to us, but we know they have told the Ragnar, Finth, and Thack Delos, that the Krall are no longer in control of that region of stars, in what you called the Orion Spur. To demonstrate that it’s safe for them to enter that area, the Thandol claim to have flown one of their largest giant ships there several times, the Crusher class.

“They have eight of those huge four sided ships, which can crush a revolt on an entire world in less than a day. It’s capable of launching thousands of warheads, which they call Decoherence bombs, which they claim cannot be intercepted or stopped because they are delivered via travel through the alternate Universe, and arrive too fast to be countered. They create a small sphere of degenerate low pressure matter where they appear.”

“They have another weapon, which they have shared with their three security forces, which is an antipersonnel radiation beam. It is said to have a median effective range of…” he looked up at the Mark of Koban, making a rough mental conversion, “several hundred lengths of your ship, I would think. The atmospheric density, moisture content, and beam width alters that range. It’s called a Debilitater ray, which sounds milder than its effect is supposed to be.”

Mirikami did the distance conversion much faster. The maximum range sounded like roughly thirty miles, with attenuation. The latter caused by atmospheric conditions, and how wide the beam had been set.

He wanted more details. “What’s the effect and type of this radiation? Is it ionizing, causing radiation damage, electrical, charged particle beam, or something else?”

“Our sources in the court on Wendal have not learned what form of radiation it is, but it is evidently not particle based, nor a type of laser. It disrupts the nerves of those targeted, causing great pain and loss of some muscle control. The residual effects and nerve pain lasts for a quarter day, but the worst affects last only a fraction of that time, unless you are hit by a tightly focused beam at closer range. A short-range full power dosage is said to be fatal. We heard that the Ragnar were told the only defense is shielding, such as body armor, or being inside a metal building or vehicle. To us, that sounded like a form of electromagnetic radiation that affects your nervous system. It is designed to disable large unprotected populations gathered outside, who would not have armor or other shielding.”

Mirikami thought aloud. “Sounds like a Jazzer, only elevated to long range and lethal power levels.”

“What is a Jazzer?”

“A short range, low power version of something we have, which sounds similar to what you described, but ours is never fatal, and its effects last for less than 300th of a day, and it isn’t painful when applied and has a temporary numbing effect for muscle control, and feels very uncomfortable as your nerves recover. The beam of a Jazzer is fired from a small hand weapon, but its short range means it isn’t a crowd control weapon, and certainly has no combat use.”

“Our technicians think the one the Thandol built is too large to carry by any of their soldiers, and is fired from a spacecraft, an aircraft, a shuttle, or a large ground vehicle, where there is enough power available.”

Mirikami nodded. “That seems probable. Our soldiers would probably not be at great risk because they normally fight in armor. I don't know if we have tested the suits for leakage of such radiation. That’s something we can test for and correct before we face that weapon. I don’t know if we can devise a defense for the Decoherence bomb. We have a comparable weapons delivery system, which has a far slower rate of delivery, and we don’t have many of them at present. However, it has a much greater destructive effect per weapon. We call them Novae missiles, and I think they’re much bulkier than the bomb you describe.”

“When the Thandol know where you are, they can deliver hundreds of their bombs in seconds. How would your ships and crews survive long enough to fight them? Their Crusher class ships are very large, and could probably absorb many hits from their own bombs before being disabled.”

“Surviving would depend on how good their sensor systems are at finding us before we can hit them. Are they able to hide from the sensors that you used on us when we arrived?”

“Yes, and we saw your ships easily.”

“Of course you did, we weren’t in stealth mode. Have you detected our fifth ship yet? It was in orbit at Canji Mot, traveled to Canji Dol in stealth mode, and should be back in orbit here again shortly.”

The Chief Counselor spoke rapidly in his own tongue and paused. He apparently was wearing a com set with an earpiece under his fur. In a moment, he answered. “Your ship has not returned from our colony world, and we think it must have Jumped away because we do not see it there.”

Mirikami used his Comtap. “Thad, where are you?”

“Two thousand miles above you, holding station. Why?”

“They don’t see you, and I’m proving a point. We clearly have better stealth than they have detectors. Standby for a Krall level stealth test. I think they will see you then. Be ready to blink back out in ten seconds and change position quickly. I don't believe they’d fire on you, but we don’t want a trigger happy underling to ruin a good day.”

“OK. Tell me when.”

“Chief Counselor, our fifth ship is two thousand miles directly above us. I know you don’t know what that distance means, but check with your tracking systems when he changes to a different stealth mode. I’ll give you a moment to alert your people.”

A brief conversation in native Hothor, and he said, “We don’t see a ship.”

“Now Thad.”

The Hothor sensors must have been watching that area overhead closely, because they reported immediately. The startled expression of the Chief Counselor was comical. “A faint target image just appeared above us. It has the parameters expected of a Krall clanship in stealth mode. It simply appeared suddenly.” He paused.

“It just vanished again.”

Mirikami taught him the meaning of a nod again. “I suspected that you had been given the technology for detecting a clanship operating in the normal Krall stealth mode. Neither you nor the Thandol wanted to be surprised if the Krall happened to drop in on any of the worlds in the Empire. Are your detectors good enough to see the Thandol Crusher class ships, or those of the other security forces?”

“Yes, we can see any of their ships faintly. They all use the same stealth system, copied from what the Olt’kitapi used when they first visited us so long ago. The Thandol have not improved on that, it seems, but you have.”

“One of our allied species was forced to work for the Krall, and learned how to improve the stealth system, but never shared that with them.”

“If we Hothor had military ships, they would use the same system as the Thandol. Not that we are permitted to build any sort of ships that have such a coating. Even if the Thandol can’t sneak in on us and avoid detection after arrival, they do have the means to exit from the alternate universe, from level three, without a revelation of the gamma rays you caused. Our own ships do not have the secret of reaching the third level, and the Thandol would detect and destroy any we built, if we knew how. We keep our sensors active at all times to watch for them if they come unannounced. You appear to have a better system than they do.”

“Chief Counselor that was one of the things we needed to know, before we make a visit to Wendal after we leave here. That is, if you will be so kind as to tell us where it is. The Olt’kitapi records we used knew where your star was, and a few others of member species, but not the location of the capitol world.”

“Wendal is only the latest Emperor’s court. The capitol changes if the ruling family changes. We will be happy to tell you where it is, although I think you will be taking a terrible risk to travel there. They maintain one Crusher in orbit there at all times. Please, do not go there directly from here. They will know where you originated, and we and the Olt’kitapi we protect would pay for that carelessness.”

“We promise to leave with even greater stealth than when we arrived. Using Level one for a time, before rotating to level two, and moving hundreds of light years from here. When we Jump to Wendal in level three, our direction of travel will not point back to you.”

“Yegleth! We suspected you had third level travel capability, when you appeared this deep inside the Empire. It would be a long travel time otherwise. I have slight hopes now that you may have the technology to fight the Thandol and their security forces.”

“We might have adequate technology, but we don’t know that yet. Before we leave, we would be honored if we could meet with the Olt’kitapi. They obviously know that we found them, since they surely reported our scans that penetrated their camouflage.”

“Oh. I wasn’t told you had penetrated the cover. Only that you tried.”

“We did, and we recognized their insect origins in their body types. We wish to tell them what happened to some of their former client species that they once helped evolve into spacefaring civilizations, and who are most grateful to them. If they ever wish to return to inhabit any of their former worlds, they are welcome in the Galactic Federation, as full citizens.”

The Chief Counselor reminded Mirikami of the obvious. “That offer depends on your ability to keep those worlds out of the Empire’s tentacles.”

“Yes. There is that small problem.”

****

Aboard the Mark, Maggi spoke the words Mirikami had been thinking. “I’m nervous to meet an Olt’kitapi. They had such great power, and yet used it gently, often for the benefit of developing species. They seemed so saint-like, yet had the strength to try to destroy the Krall, and in that failure, managed to destroy themselves. I can’t imagine our committing mass suicide over something we did against an enemy that was trying to kill us.”

Tet nodded his agreement. “I have the same nervous feelings, but the Hothor don’t feel that way. They’re comfortable and casual talking about them. Perhaps because they’ve been caretakers of their descendants for so long, and know little of how advanced and how powerful these people had once been. Obviously, they weren’t saints, and certainly weren’t infallible. I doubt that they all committed voluntary racial suicide, any more than the Dismantlers do after learning of the deaths they inadvertently caused. They simply couldn’t continue or their minds shut down. Those ships that were better shielded or insulated from the deaths the Krall caused them to trigger, didn’t always die. It may be that the Olt’kitapi mind enhancers delivered too great a sense of the tragic loss of life suffered, when the wave of tachyons somehow connected with conscious life were disturbed by those deaths. Our Comtaps didn’t send us, or the Torki or Raspani, any sense of the billions of deaths that happened on Meadow and Bootstrap. It isn’t that we ignored them we simply didn’t sense them. The Olt’kitapi and Dismantlers feel a sort of wave caused by dying minds, which has an effect on the weakest tachyons. Our devices are obviously not as sensitive as theirs are, even after the sensitivity was increased so we could communicate between Normal and Tachyon Space. Perhaps that greater degree of device sensitivity was a fatal flaw for them, and we know they had a level of moral responsibility that we don’t share with them. As Sarge might say, humans are callous bastards.”

Maggi had made inquiries about the tachyon wave Huwayla said she had sensed, and that her sister ships often felt from disasters involving loss of inhabited planets in deep space, from Super Novas. “Max Born thinks that any conscious mind may have some weak link to low level tachyons, which might account for certain sensitive people having had seemingly prescient experiences. Such as when someone knows of a distant event, which they don’t believe has happened yet. In Max’s view, it could actually be the instantaneous reception of the tachyon wave, arriving at an unusually sensitive mind, well before the information can be delivered via conventional means, where the velocity of light is the speed limit. That was his theory of how our superconducting nerves, with our Mind Tap ability, made our instant communications possible before we had Comtaps. And now we do have Comtaps that are even more sensitive. I’d hesitate to boost them to the levels of sensitivity the Olt’kitapi achieved. It might not be healthy.”

Mirikami pondered this a moment, and shrugged. “It may also be that we humans are a hell of a lot more indifferent to death and killing than were the Olt’kitapi. The same data may pass through our minds, but we ignore it as background noise. Their salvation might have been as simple a thing as detuning or reducing the sensitivity of their mind enhancers, eliminating the level of guilt they experienced. I have to tell you, I haven’t felt much guilt over the billions of Krall we’ve left subject to being killed by the PU army and navy. Or the billions that will die as feral Krall on some of their clan worlds. I did want to save some of them, to give them a second chance at getting off that Great Path to self-destruction. If they don’t make it, I’ll survive just fine, guilt free.”

Maggi agreed with him in one respect. “It probably wasn’t so much a conscious decision of the adult Olt’kitapi to die when they sensed the mass deaths they deliberately caused. I suspect it was being unable to continue to live with their feelings of moral guilt. We’ve known, or heard of people that have given up on life after a serious personal loss. A mother that lost an only child in tragic circumstances that she could have prevented, for example.”

“Perhaps.” He dismissed that line of thought. “I see the third minister is returning from his preparatory meeting with the senior female leader. We’ll soon know if they’ll meet with us or not. The Hothor say we’ll be the first new species to meet them since they arrived here, twenty-two millennia ago.”

When the Hothor stepped aboard the Mark, he bowed and extended his right arm, hand cupped to his face. “She is eager to meet with you. When I mentioned your genders, Gith Prola wished to know if Maggi would be offended if she spoke directly to you both, or if she should ask the male, her mate Gith Frithda, to speak to Tet.”

The Hothor third minister had moved into a personal name basis with the two humans, as he flew with them to Canji Dol. His personal name was Hanbi, of his full name Yida Gof Hanbi, where Yida was his father’s personal name, and Gof his mother’s personal name.

Maggi set him at ease. “Hanbi, we humans essentially have social equality of genders, much as you told us the Hothor do. I believe she may be concerned that we have something like the Thandol male dominated society, and is worried that she may give offense. Both of our genders would be comfortable in participating equally in the discussions, with either of their genders.”

She needed answers of her own, however. “As for naming conventions, I have heard you say her name was Gith Prola several times, and on occasion you called her just Prola. We know that the ending of la is the feminine ending. We just heard you also address her mate as Gith Frithda. Do both of them have a first name of Gith? And is da a male’s name ending?”

“Maggi, Gith is their mating name, which they selected at their bonding. As you deduced, da is the normal ending of an adult male form. However, these are endings used only for the adult forms. The intelligent larval stage has a different name, lost after pupation, and there is no gender suffix for males or females before the adult form. I heard some of your people describe them as caterpillars. And rippers as cats. Is there some connection to those human words you used?”

“No, Hanbi. Merely a similar sound. There is a stage of life for many insects on various worlds, and I suspect here too, that we would describe as caterpillars. The young pre-adult forms look like large multi colored caterpillars to us. How long do they look like that?”

“The larval, or caterpillar stage, can persist from two, up to at least ten orbits. The gender is fixed at conception but final adult body form and function is decided by the larval form itself, by altering their diet before they enter the pupae stage. The female, Prola, choose a pure builder body form, and her mate, Frithda, has a pure maker body form. If they have offspring, the child can select either one of those pure body forms before pupation, or can become a hybrid, based on their future career selection. After pupation, they have few options if they selected poorly.”

“Is it acceptable to ask about such decisions?” Mirikami asked.

“Yes. They may offer to tell you before you ask, if your visit is long enough. The Olt’kitapi are always very open and direct, and they will speak on any subject. Even things they might consider a failing or a mistake of theirs. They do not feel embarrassment, but understand it in other species, and will talk about their own poor past decisions. They believe you cannot learn from errors, or teach others to avoid them, if they are not fully revealed and explored.”

“When do we meet them?”

“Now. You will return with me.”

Their first close up view of them was the two angular limbed creatures waiting between the trees, under the canopy of camouflage. The taller one, the female they had been told, held herself in a semi-upright posture. She was a gleaming light shade of purple, with a triangular head and large compound eyes, with two white antennas. Her head and body resembled the pictures they had called up from archives of multiple worlds. The mantis head architecture had been replicated in insects multiple times on various worlds, but never seen on this scale. Her overall length was probably six feet, but her thick lower abdomen was partly held horizontally, before curving up sharply to her thorax. Her face was perhaps five feet above the ground, with four legs supporting the abdomen two feet off the ground. The flat sections of the angular legs had a considerably sturdier appearance than the spindly stick like legs of a scaled up insect. The back feet were two-toed pads, but the middle limb’s feet appeared to resemble a cross between feet and hands, with a grasping capability. The three jointed front upper limbs were held high, hands together, but were distinctly not made for grasping prey, and were articulated much like a human’s arms. There were multiple finger-like appendages for hands, of three to six inches length, and had several joints on each digit, making them very flexible.

She rose higher as they approached, and her middle legs left the ground with a slight push, and her head was now over six feet above ground as they drew near. It was clear that the middle limbs could be used to grasp things in her present posture. Her body was divided into three clear segments. Head, thick thorax, and plump abdomen, all in shades of purple. This was what the Hothor described as the more intellectual builder form.

The male was at least a foot shorter in length, mostly light green, with shades of brown on his lower abdomen. He remained more horizontal than his mate did, although his middle limbs also had basic grasping hands. His front limbs were noticeably sturdier than were those of his mate, and the hands had thicker stronger fingers and looked less flexible. His head shared the same triangular shape and compound eyes, with two shorter brown colored antennae. He continued to look up at them from a level about four and a half feet above the ground. His overall coloration was drabber. Despite his shorter stature, his body looked heavier and sturdier than the female’s. They knew he was called a maker form.

As they reached roughly the same distance as the Hothor had originally halted when meeting the Kobani for the first time, about twenty feet, Hanbi halted, repeated his ritual bow and arm extension, hand cupped upwards. Mirikami and Maggi halted just behind him, and bowed slightly.

In clear Thandol, the only language they currently had in common, the female Olt’kitapi told the Hothor, “You were just here, Hanbi. We did not require the first show of ritual respect, and a second display so soon is even less useful.” She looked to the two humans, her head pivoting quickly towards them.

“I greet you, and as I just explained to the third minister, as we explain to most Hothor visitors, their ritual greeting, with the symbolic offering of a body fluid is unnecessary with us. We do not extrude body fluids as they do, and would certainly not exchange the unsanitary products if we could. By your not offering us a cupped hand of symbolic fluid, I presume you do not share that pointless and less than hygienic gesture.”

Maggi, sensing the tone of the exchange, and the directness, abandoned the pretense of the formality she had expected by the Hothor’s example. “No, we don’t pee in our hands and offer it to those we meet. In fact, we didn’t know that was the symbolism being replicated by the Hothor, who we met only one day ago. I’m sure we have our own odd mannerisms, but our handshaking gesture we offered, with physical contact with a Hothor’s right hand, will be reconsidered now. Unless they wash their hands first.”

Hanbi chuffed his breath a few times, and the two humans wondered if he was laughing. At least they did until the Olt’kitapi female spoke to him again. “Hanbi, stop your sounds of emotional distress. They did not speak to embarrass you. It was an honest expression of their opinion, and it informs you of something useful to know about them. You apparently use that hand ritual for everyone you meet, which isn’t appropriate when meeting another species. You now have two examples of this same opinion to consider if you wish to avoid future embarrassment, or of offending those you greet.”

Proving he was experienced with frank conversations with the Olt’kitapi, Hanbi said, “None of the species we have met want this greeting when they learn its meaning. It is to the Thandol and Ragnar that we most enjoy making this unwelcome gesture, and we wish to conceal the intended disrespect to them. Therefore, we offer it to all. I will propose we limit the arm and hand extension for meetings only with them.”

“That would be wise,” the male said. “We have suggested it previously, and yet you do not change. You love repetitive rituals.”

The female, direct as before, said, “I am certain Hanbi told you I am named Gith Prola, and my mate is Gith Frithda. He neglected to describe you other than as a male and female of a species called human, and bipedal as are the Hothor. We would like you to name yourselves for us, and state which of you has which gender.”

Mirikami nodded to his wife to proceed. Let the self-declared ambassador go first.

“I am called Maggi Fisher, a female, and I wish to be called Maggi on most occasions. A position I sometimes fill within my society is to serve as an ambassador when we meet other species. I am otherwise a scientist in the fields of biology and genetics.” She looked to her husband. “This is my mate.”

Mirikami picked it up from there. “I am called Tetsuo Mirikami, a male, and my preferred name when speaking socially with others is Tet. I am a Captain of spacecraft, and I have served as a leader of my people in fighting, and in defeating the Krall.”

The male and female both twitched the same digit of the same hand, perhaps equivalent to a nod of acknowledgement.

Prola told them, “The third minister has told us of your impressive physical demonstration with another member of your Federation of species. We have no firsthand knowledge of the Krall, nor do the Hothor, but we have been told of their savage and fierce reputation within the Empire, which has observed them from a distance. They have been concerned that the unsophisticated Krall would come here, in their swarming and murderous fashion, and none of the security forces were considered capable of stopping them.

“Your defeat of them, if substantiated, would be adequate proof for us that you are capable, therefore we will not expect a demonstration. We are low gravity beings, and I can judge by your smooth, graceful, and ease of movement as you approached us that you find this world’s gravity less than what you are accustomed to feeling. What gravity do you consider normal, as measured here on this world?”

“Nearly two and a half times the pull of gravity here.” Mirikami replied.

She looked at the two of them analytically. “You must have far greater muscle strength and stronger bones than do the Hothor or the Thandol to live on your world. Yet such habitable worlds are statistically rare compared to this one or Canji Mot. Maggi, you said you were a scientist of biology and genetics. To physically meet or exceed the Krall, have you humans used that science to improve your bodies?”

This is one sharp mind, and a keen observer, thought Mirikami.

“Indeed we have.” Maggi conceded. “We have gone farther than what you surmised. We have improved our minds, our hearing, sight, sense of smell, and the speed of our nervous systems. Then we employed a technological tool your ancestors provided to the Raspani and the Torki, who now are two of our allied species in our Galactic Federation. We have a device in our heads we call a Comtap, which is based on the technology of the mind enhancers you gave to them. Although, the Torki have named theirs an Olt, in honor of the people that gave them that gift. Our device, combined with our unique nervous systems, is probably equivalent to what your dead ancestors had in their heads.”

Frithda corrected her. “Our ancestor’s mind enhancers were not embedded in their thin heads. They were placed in their upper thorax, just behind their heads. More room there.”

Prola again demonstrated how astute and blunt she could be. “You call your governing body a Galactic Federation. Presumptive name for your government, considering Hanbi says you occupy only the remnant territory our ancestors lost to the Krall. Even if you include that entire small stream of stars, which split from the major arm of the galaxy where the Thandol live, it is only a minute part of this island star system you call a galaxy.”

Mirikami smiled in acknowledgement, and told her, “Humans are extremely presumptive.” Then he ticked off a number of statistics to back why that was the case.

“Roughly seven hundred orbits ago of the world where we are standing right now, humans had not yet achieved space flight, we had not left our home world. No altruistic race like you Olt’kitapi came along to help us advance.

“Today, counting the stars we have just taken away from the Krall and the seven hundred twenty colonies humans had settled before we gained our genetic enhancements, which only came after we met the Krall, we now control four or five thousand habitable star systems. Those are just the planets humans and our allies could live on immediately. We can modify many marginal worlds to suit the needs of my own adaptable species, just as we did for many of the planets we already inhabit.

“Our alien allies have jokingly called us the hyperactive children of the galaxy, and despite our youth and inexperience, we managed to beat back the Krall in twenty or so orbits after they first attacked us. How long had your ancestors been expanding before they found the Krall? Those barbarians only lived on one world back then, they had not achieved space flight, and after three thousand orbits of your ancestor’s help, they were spread throughout their space, had been handed powerful weapons of war, and then they revolted against you. They took everything away from your great civilization practically overnight.

“Then, twenty three thousand orbits later, after the Krall had defeated seventeen species, we humans defeated them. Doing it in a small fraction of the time that they had dominated the region where they conquered everyone they encountered. Yes, we had some luck, and received help from the freed slave races, but we mostly created our own luck. We leaped into a desperate fight, in what you and others would call a reckless manner, using any small advantage that came to us, or exploited any enemy weakness we found.”

He shrugged, “Is that presumption, or is it our explosive and unpredictable capability when we are compared to any other species you have encountered? If we continue to make our own luck, the Thandol will learn the hard way, as did the Krall, to leave us alone or make peace with us.

“Frankly, it’s only bragging if we fail. I honestly don’t know right now if we can defeat the Empire or not. But I’m human, so I know that we’ll fight them.”

Prola seemed amused. “I almost sensed a touch of humility as you finished, but that was promptly erased by your assurance that your species would fight and not surrender. If you have made the races you freed from the Krall full participants in your Federation, then you are not as evil as the Krall, or as domineering as the Thandol. That doesn’t mean you are not still dangerous to us all.”

Maggi responded with, “That’s exactly what we’ve heard from the Torki, Raspani, and Prada. That we may prove to be more dangerous in the long term. Yet they decided to join with us after we freed them, because we didn’t place demands on them in return. We asked for their help, and it was granted freely. The Prada were slow to do that, and until we helped restore the Raspani minds from where they were stored in ancient mind enhancers, they considered the Krall the elder and rightful rulers.”

Again, the twitch of a digit, indicating acceptance from both aliens. Frithda said, “Our original instructors described the Prada as a people fat too willing to follow the lead of an older species, just as they followed their own elders. Our ancestors avoided extensive contact with them, to prevent the Prada from becoming dependent upon them.”

Mirikami asked, “Frithda, who were your original instructors? How did any of you survive to reach a Hothor world without adults to guide you?”

“The newest class of the faster ships the builders and makers had designed, also had new advanced machine intelligences built into them, the first computer minds that were based on patterns copied from their own minds. Two of those ships saved the adolescents aboard them and came here, after a wave of deaths took all of the adult forms. They died from the anguish they experienced via their mind enhancers. This anguish happened after a consensus of our entire population agreed to destroy the densely inhabited Krall home world, to try to prevent the Krall from spreading wider. That plan failed to stop them, and the adult forms either elected to die, or perhaps their minds shut down and they starved. We now believe they were unaware how powerfully the mind enhancers would convey the terrible mass deaths experienced by the billions of Krall that died, as their world was torn apart. We have not attempted to develop mind enhancers again, for fear of the consequences.

“Even though the new ship minds sensed the same wave of deaths, not all of them ceased to function. The ships were not part of the decision to destroy a world, and they were able to delay their shutdown if they had a reason to continue in service. Some did have reasons to continue, to save the larval forms if they were aboard. Our larval forms live for years and are intelligent, but they are poorly equipped to care for and feed themselves. We believe that a number of ship minds sought a means to save them. Two of those ships came to Canji Mot, where they believed they might find shelter for those young.

“The two ship minds, named Ranlola and Birnala, became our instructors through the first generation, as the larval forms pupated to emerge in various adult forms. When there were enough adults, with adequate knowledge to guide our Hothor benefactors to help care for a new generation, the two ship minds grew silent. The ships have not responded since the early orbits of our arrival here, but they have automatically maintained themselves, so we know they retain a form of life.”

Maggi made an admission. “We have encountered other living ships from that same era. Some have retained their active minds, and some are what we describe as catatonic, or asleep. It appears possible those that are asleep can slowly recover, two of them have. Your former instructor ships may also be able to do that if they receive proper help.”

Frithda grew excited. “Others of our people had survived with those ships?”

“I’m sorry, but none that we know of did.” Mirikami told him. “We had believed your entire species was extinct. I think the Krall efficiently hunted the survivors down and killed them on worlds where you formerly lived. Finding any of you alive was extremely gratifying.”

Prola made the twitching gesture with one finger digit, then flared two unnoticed small vestigial wings on the back of her lower section, and refolded them.

She revealed the thought that had sparked that reaction. “We have recently learned through the Hothor that others of our kind must have survived, but instead of people like the Hothor, they fell into the control of the Thandol, or perhaps some species that traded them to the Thandol for some long past favor. The Thandol say those other Olt’kitapi have granted them permission to reclaim our old empire. A governing concept we would never embrace, so we know it is a lie.

“From Hanbi’s explanation, we understand you have encountered a Thandol Crusher ship at two of your worlds, and that you intend to oppose their announced plan to annex that region. I cannot believe you expect a peaceful people like the Hothor to join you in a fight, and you certainly didn’t know we were here. Not that we will join you either. That would bring destruction onto us and to our friends. What did you seek here?”

“What they have been giving us and now what you have given.” Mirikami admitted. “Information about the Thandol and the races that provide security for them within the Empire. We don't know if we’ll have to face those security forces, one or all of them, or if the Thandol will also engage us in the fight.”

Prola twitched one antenna. “We have no combat skills, but we have studied the Empire, and how the Thandol control the species within its boundaries. For intimidation, they will send one or more of their eight Crusher class ships. They have thousands of much smaller, but similar shaped warships, but the giant ships were built to present a dominate appearance, to awe their opponents into submission without a fight. They will use their massive technology advantages if they need to personally confront a rebellion, or annex a combative star traveling new species.

“If intimidation fails, their next mode of attack is to send one of the security forces to impose the Emperor’s rule. The Ragnar are physically the strongest and most ruthless of those, if not the most populous. In addition, their race is the one that enforces obedience in this third of the empire, because their home world is located here. If you fight the Empire, they might be the first opponents to attack your worlds, to capture your leaders to force your capitulation.”

Mirikami disagreed. “The first attack on us was delivered by a Crusher. It killed every human in one city, over fifteen thousand people on a new colony world. They were unarmed and didn’t understand the messages. We don't call that intimidation we call it murder. It struck a second time, at a Torki colony, but they managed to escape with only one life lost on a ship that fled from them at first sight. The Empire didn’t use a surrogate for those attacks. It was the Thandol themselves, in that giant ship. They are the ones we intend to make answer for those attacks.”

“That was their effort to awe you into surrender without a fight. Not the start of a war.”

“They’re wrong! It started a war with us. There’ll be a price they have to pay.”

“You truly are a brash and impetuous people. How will you make the Thandol compensate you for your losses?”

Mirikami blinked at Prola a moment, before he recognized her misunderstanding. “I didn’t mean I would ask them for property or trade goods, to pay for damages. The human lives lost can’t be recovered. I mean they’ll suffer a similar loss in exchange. Something appropriate and precious to them, and it will happen where they won’t think we could strike.

“Where will you do this?”

“We have the coordinates for Wendal. Where the Emperor lives seems a good place to start.”

“Will you gather all your forces to go there? They will see your wake through Tachyon Space, and be waiting for you. They will then trace you back to your origins and send forces there. We have seen their tactics before, and they work.”

“No, we don’t need more than the five ships we brought with us to introduce ourselves. I don't think they’ve had the pleasure of facing anyone like us before. We’re tricky bastards in a fight, as a friend describes us.”

“Please do not leave a trail back to here as you leave, but I wish you success. I hope we can spend more time talking, if you somehow survive this adventure. I don’t think you will have long to wait before the Ragnar visit your worlds. The Thandol are not a nice, tolerant, or patient people.”

“Neither were the Krall, and the Thandol wisely avoided them.”

****

The five Kobani ships were widely spread and in level one of Tachyon Space, dragging their butts for days at what seemed like a snail’s pace on the navigational displays of nearby star systems. They were honoring their promise to protect the Hothor and Olt’kitapi, by not leaving a traceable wake in the sea of low energy tachyons back to them.

Finally, they had altered course at a right angle to their previous group track, and rotated to level two for an increase in speed. That would leave a more discernable wake. By originating so deep inside the Empire, they expected it to be ignored as probable traffic from some of the nearby colonies of member species. They could be cargo vessels, or the less frequent passenger ships. Only the Thandol and their security forces had T-cubed capable ships. All of those were built by the Thandol, and when used outside of direct Thandol control, they were sparingly issued to the three security forces of their enforcement species.

There was rather a lot of T-squared wakes to be found, particularly so far inside the Empire. Unknown T-cubed travel drew notice, but so long as it was isolated, it wasn’t of real concern. A fleet or a squadron of ships in T-cubed travel would draw prompt attention. Entering a Jump hole, the mobile monitor stations could communicate instantly with stations that rotated in and out of Tachyon Space to pick up and then disseminate messages to planets in Normal space. The news would reach the Thandol Military High Command quickly.

A wide, four-stranded wake, as from the corners of a large pyramidal shaped Crusher, was totally disregarded, since it could only be a Thandol operated ship, and therefore wasn’t subject to any questions or scrutiny.

That particular tip, passed back to Canji Mot by the Hothor servant/spy network years ago, was about to see its first practical application. Assuming the trick worked.

Mirikami ordered all five ships to drop to level one, move a few light years in untraceable motion, and then White Out in a region multiple light years from any star system. “OK, people, as we discussed; line up at the corners you were assigned, at the 1.2 mile spacing of an equilateral tetrahedron. The Mark will take the center point, and Thad your lead corner will point directly towards Wendal. I’ll line up directly behind you when we Jump. When our AIs say we are positioned properly, let them hold the positions for you. We need to leave a Crusher’s trail.”

It was only a few seconds before they were positioned. “Now we use normal Space drives to match Wendal’s orbital speed, and we want to have our AI’s time our Jump and arrival, to place us almost directly above the Palace at three to five hundred miles. I don’t know if Farlol number 84 will be home, but I hope we cause him to drop a big lumpy pile of Thandol turds if he is.”

When the AI’s agreed that within the limits of the uncertainty they had to work with, that the speed and positioning was optimum, the five ships performed a simultaneous rotation into the T-cubed level of Tachyon Space.

“OK folks, we have less than thirty minutes. The Mark will be the only ship to White Out, and I’ll do it stealthed, but the package on our hip will be visible until it separates. You four stay ghosted and on station, to perpetuate the masquerade of a Crusher. After we do what we came to do, we’ll head back in the same formation, to the coordinates we just left from, then do a star burst departure in five directions at level one, then go to level two, and finally T-cubed to our coordinates closer to home. I have the package ready, docked at my side. All I need do is feed the AI a good coordinate, send my message, and then get the hell out of there before their Decoherence bomb launchers can come online.”

Maggi made a suggestion. “Perhaps I’d better deliver the message, dear. You talk too long and might try to reason with them. We’ll be disintegrated before you can finish. At least we will be if you speak at your normal Socratic pace. Besides, I thought we wanted to give them four warnings, like they delivered to Paradise. We can’t hang around long enough to do that.”

He tapped his lip a moment. “That AI can do more than fly to its coordinates. It has a transmitter. You record the message, we’ll tell the AI to transmit it four times after we release it, and have it take evasive action as it does that. Then it will launch itself. The Thandol won’t know your gender, but the Hothor said they don’t like having to deal with females of any species. It would be symbolic to have the message delivered by a female, even if we’re the only ones that know.”

He snapped his fingers. “Hey, got an idea! Since it will be translated into the Thandol tongue anyway, have Jakob use the feminine grammar mode for you. That’ll piss them off.”

In barely a half an hour, they arrived over Wendal, four hundred two miles directly above the sprawling palace of Emperor Farlol the 84th. The Mark of Koban performed a White Out, released an unstealthed object that quickly moved away, then reentered a Jump Hole, and the five-ship formation started to retrace their route.

****

Thandol Sensor Specialist third class, Hebol Filpap, hesitated to call his supervisor this late in his night shift, Lord Monitor Rupen Blitforn, who was incessantly bugling directly into his ear or via his mind enhancer about Fippap’s job performance. He would have to wake him, which would not improve his mood.

Besides, the movements of Crusher’s were not normally of interest to any monitor station, even one located inside the Emperor’s Pride, the Crusher that was regularly assigned duty in the Wendal system. After all, only Thandol were permitted aboard a Crusher, and they were completely loyal to the Empire, if not always to the current Emperor.

The Emperor’s Military High Command monitored the movements of the eight giant craft, and decided their deployments. They spoke to them directly when they were in Jump transit as this one was now, and it was nearing Wendal, where it would discharge its huge complement of crew for shore leave, replenish consumables, and receive maintenance for the vast array of equipment within him. No Thandol thought of ships as a “she.”

Except there were two curious things, even unusual, about the sensor detections of the tachyon trace for this Crusher. He wanted to report it, but if the matter was considered trivial or none of the civil authority’s business, he’d not be promoted to Sensor Specialist second class anytime soon.

This was Filpap’s sole task in the cumbersome civil heirarchy of government. Monitoring movements of the subservient species shipping traffic. A dull occupation, but necessary if the Empire was to regulate commerce, and extract every Imperial Sovereign in taxes from those that engaged in trade in the realm. The peasant races were notorious tax cheaters when they did business among themselves.

This was the only monitor station based on a Crusher, because the High Command wanted the Emperor’s personal transportation to have instant access to what the peasantry shipping was up to around him when he traveled. The Emperor’s ship sudden appearance in a visited system often stirred frantic transportation activity in the entire region. It was compared to activating the lights in a peasant home, and then watching as vermin scrambled to hide.

This particular Crusher’s trail had initiated only a hundred forty eight light years away. At third level velocity, it was nearly on the doorstep when it started moving towards Wendal. That led him to wonder why the giant ship had moved to that point so slowly, thus escaping his notice. Why had it stopped there? Crushers were in too high a demand to let one sit still like that, and they were constantly used to display the reach of the Emperor’s power in his widespread empire.

This one wasn’t listed in the schedule of returning ships, which always triggered the preparations for the rush of activity expected on arrival. Just the change of crews required a flurry of smaller transports to meet the ship, and a reassignment to visit a string of other worlds of subservient species that were deemed to need a reminder of why they should remain loyal subjects. The unannounced visits awed and intimidated the unarmed peasant species.

This unscheduled Crusher return suggested, to Filpap anyway, that this ship had been sent to the new region the Empire intended to annex. Except its back trail didn’t point in that direction, or to any star system. In a short time, it would become the third Crusher orbiting Wendal. The next ship to deploy, The Empire’s Tentacles, was not expected to leave for two days. The Emperor’s Pride, where the Sensor Specialist was proud to serve in such a unique monitor station, orbited Wendal most of the time, unless the Emperor had official travel to conduct. Such as to participate in some political event like a high status wedding, notable birth, or important funeral within an allied noble family, where he would demonstrate his solidarity with that family.

Filpap didn’t question that it was actually a Crusher, since no other ship in the empire would generate the same wide parallel tachyon trails, from the rounded corners of the huge ships. Enclosed within their hull conforming event horizon, they pushed low energy tachyons out of their way. This captain was a particular stickler for the perfect form of his trail. The leading tip of the tetrahedron was exactly centered in the face formed by the other three corners as it flew towards Wendal. The central cone of spreading tachyons was more pronounced than usual, perhaps because the alignment of the front tip was so precisely centered. Most Crusher captains were unconcerned about ship orientation, since it didn’t matter in the slightest to their speed of travel through Tachyon Space, and it took time they normally didn’t wish to waste by aligning the massive ships so precisely.

In the final analysis, he didn’t call his perpetually irritated Lord Monitor. His supervisor’s concerns were always focused on travel detected in the second level, where he wanted to catch trading violations by the local species near Wendal. They seem to think their privileged positions, near the current Emperor’s throne world, granted them some leeway from regulations and taxes. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if he had been call. It’s unlikely in the extreme that Blitforn, a civil government functionary on a military craft, would have had the intestinal fortitude to call an alert to the Bridge watch stander. Let alone notify the off duty Captain at night, or bypass them both to notify the Weapons Control Center that an unscheduled Crusher was headed to Wendal, where all of them received servicing.

The Weapons Center would have been the only call that might have initiated defensive measures soon enough to matter. The Emperor’s Pride was in a state of low-level alert, sitting in a parking orbit of the throne world, in the heart of the empire. In essence, a complete absence of alert.

The Decoherence bomb launchers, even if online, would not have been able to target the small maneuvering target that appeared at the White Out coordinates. Instant-on lasers, masers, infrared beams, or intense microwaves would have had time to hit the target, but not the slower to activate powerful particle beam plasma cannons. It wasn’t there that long.

At the center of the four corners of the presumed arriving Crusher, which didn’t make an exit into Normal Space, a smaller massed ship apparently triggered gamma rays in a White Out. However, the ship was never visible. A smaller object it left behind was clearly detected when the other ship promptly reentered a Jump Hole. The apparent Crusher then appeared to streak away in the direction from which it came. The Sensor Specialist quickly established the mind enhancer link to his boss, using an urgent access level that should awaken him, or interrupt any other link he might be engaged with at the time.

“What is it…, Specialist?” Blitforn, just wakened, clearly couldn’t even think of the name of the low-level sensor specialist he’d put on duty for this evening.

“My Lord, an unscheduled Crusher just arrived, but instead of conducting a normal exit in a standard parking orbit, there was a sudden gamma ray White Out burst of a smaller ship, appearing too close to the surface and well into the prohibited level above the palace. It then quickly reentered a Jump Hole, and according to trail traces, the Crusher is moving back along its original approach path.”

Blitforn was fully awake now, and feared some sort of internal revolt against the throne. “I’ll call Weapons Control, while you start a full sensor scan near the White Out, make it available ship wide. The Palace defenses will be active because of the gamma rays.”

His boss abruptly disconnected to make his link to Weapons.

Filpap started a sensor scan of the White Out region, barely two thousand miles away, and quickly detected a moving object that was changing direction and velocity in a random manner. The object was a fraction of the ship’s size the energy of the gamma rays suggest had emerged. If that was a missile set to attack the Palace, it didn’t display a linear track down towards that or towards any other target. Instead, it appeared to be evading an attack, although none had been initiated on the object. Not yet, anyway.

His computer flagged a signal coming from the object that his sensors had revealed. The readout indicated a frequency reserved for military communications. He tapped the icon with a tentacle, and the computer promptly fed the broadcast to his mind enhancer. It was a spoken message in Thandol. From the mode of grammar used, it was a female speaking!

What manner of foolishness was this, using an official frequency, in a prohibited area over the Palace, broadcasting from an unauthorized object? This thing soon would be a patch of ionized vapor, when the Weapons Control Center saw the sensor feed he had made available.

Then he listened to the message, apparently intercepted near the end of the transmission. It quickly started again, the words saying it was repetition number four. The computer would have the first three iterations recorded, but if this were a formal delivery, as the number implied, all three of the previous messages would be the same except for the number at the start of each. This might be the last transmission, so he wanted to hear what was said now, without waiting for a playback, despite his outrage at the insulting manner of delivery.

This was being broadcast as a strong Omni-directional signal, so it was being received down on the planet. Just the thought of the offensive modulation reaching and penetrating the Emperor’s palace was enough to make him tremble in anger. He wouldn’t let his mind even think about the invisible, defiling radio energy reaching and touching the Emperor himself.

He also couldn’t believe the insufferable tone of the offensively delivered message, or the threat it implied.

“This is repetition four of this warning. The Thandol Empire must stay outside the boundaries of the Galactic Federation. We claim all of the stars formerly controlled by the Krall, including the volume the Olt’kitapi lost to them. Surviving members of any species that fled from the Krall plague are welcome to return to any world they once inhabited, to join us as equal members of our federation of species. We claim these stars by right of our conquest of the Krall. Today, we will exact a penalty from the Thandol Empire for sending a Crusher to attack and kill peaceful colonists. Be grateful we show you greater mercy than we showed to the Krall. You will not be warned again.”

Per Thandol protocol that should have been the end of the message, but the sender deviated from the formality of four identical messages, to add a uniquely human expression.

“Attention Thandol in the Crusher. Check if you can bend your trunks around to stroke your ass goodbye.” Apparently, there was no Thandol equivalent of the word “kiss” for an accurate translation.

The Novae missile, its coordinates previously set, entered a small Jump Hole, and nearly simultaneously made its exit. Right in the heart of the Emperor’s Pride, where the Jump Drives, back up fusion generators, Bridge, and Weapons Control Center, were densely clustered for protection during space battles. It required nearly a second for the blast wave to travel the distance out to the corner extremities. The monitor station, being located in one tip, provided a third class Sensor Specialist a brief opportunity to realize his next promotion wasn’t coming.

Chapter 16: A Federation at War

It wasn’t easy for the military High Commander to face his Emperor. He had rushed to his Emperor’s aid the instant he learned of his distress that his personal ship had been destroyed within his direct gaze. Farlol had been awakened by the alarms and by his Imperial Palace guards, when a White Out occurred directly above his palace. His head of security was frantic to get him down to the shelters below the palace, but Farlol refused to go without having his customary morning snack.

He insisted on waddling out into his adjacent breakfast grazing garden, to personally select and pick the “perfect length” tender yellow shoots of golden sugar spears. He complained that he’d “fasted” all of five hours before his normal seven hours of sleep was interrupted two hours early. His security chief promised that fresh stalks would be cut and brought to him.

Imperial obstinacy took charge, as he said, “I would miss consuming the moist rich soil that clings to the roots, which help me with my difficult digestion problems.”

It seemed his Imperial dung was persistently and overly dry. Apparently, to the point that his personal sense of safety was secondary to the state of his poop.

He soon was using booth trunks to pull shoots, and alternated shoving moist and freshly watered shoots into his forward jutting V shaped lips, head tilted back slightly to catch the fragments of dark loamy soil clinging to the roots, which he desired for aiding his digestion. His eyes happened to be gazing up at the passing triangle “star” of his personal Crusher in its orbit, when suddenly it flared into blinding incandescence.

Sometime during the subsequent trumpeting and bugling cries that he and his security team made, amid the pounding of hurried footpads, the Imperial Bowels overcame whatever reluctance had previously hindered their proper functioning. He left a lumpy trail of steaming royal waste along his path, as he was rushed blindly past his sleeping and mating stands, and into a heavy-duty elevator. He and his surrounding security guards plummeted down into the armored depths of the palace. When he slipped on some additional mess as he exited, his eyes now recovered from the brief glare blindness, he demanded to know who had soiled his elevator and his Imperial feet.

At a glance, and the smallest of tendril tip gestures from the head of security, the lowest ranking member of the Palace Guard present, took a “bullet” for his sovereign and his Empire, and accepted the poop blame. He’d be removed from the prestigious security team, of course, but there was a fund maintained that provided compensation for such unfortunate victims of fickle Imperial volatility.

When the High Commander first rushed into the Emperor’s sleeping quarters, he saw the odorous trail leading to the elevator, and quickly located Farlol in a subterranean royal cleaning station, where warm water and pleasantly scented disinfectants had washed away the soiled remains on his feet and posterior.

The High Commander offered some assurances. “Your Imperial Highness, we will be able to salvage the Empire’s Tentacles which was damaged by debris, but that Crusher will be out of service for a minimum of two orbits. If you intend to retain a Crusher here for personal transport, you will have only six to use for internal displays of your power, or for deployment to combat Federation ships and worlds in our new territory. We have no defense against the destructive weapon they used once it is launched, any more than there is a defense against our delivery system for the Decoherence bombs. Both type warheads are delivered via travel through Tachyon Space, and at such a short range, the arrival is effectively instantaneous.”

“How did they approach so close to Wendal? Were monitors not watching?”

The soft, calm questions didn’t fool Trindal. There was risk here today, and he answered carefully.

“They traveled at untraceable level one speed for part of the distance covered. We will examine monitor records along the route they must have followed. They surely used the second and third levels for greater speed for part of their journey. At the second level, they could easily blend in with the common shipping traffic of our subservient species. Nevertheless, we may be able to find tracks that do not connect between pairs of inhabited planets within the empire, as local shipping would do.

“At the third level of Tachyon Space we will be able to identify every recorded wake trail within the empire, and find those that did not relate to our own known ship movements. These attackers were very careful, and devious. We will try to trace them back to specific worlds within Federation space.” Trindal knew for a certainty that they couldn’t do that, because as of yet they had no monitor stations in Federation space. Admitting that to his agitated Emperor might make his day end badly.

Fortunately, he had anticipated the Emperor’s next question. “How were they able to build a Crusher? Or is the one that attacked us the same one that I sent to the annexed stars, carrying my warnings to those species to either join the Empire or abandon their worlds. Is that Crusher now missing, and in the grasp of enemy trunks?”

“No your Imperial Highness, the Emperor’s Trumpet reported back when we called them, and it remains fully under our control. All of our other Crushers are accounted for as well. We think the enemy found a way to mimic the tachyon trace of a Crusher, using multiple smaller ships, which replicated the separate tachyon wakes caused by the passage of the corners of our large ships. I will order that every Crusher captain report their routes in advance, to include departure point and destination for every flight. We did not have such scrutiny in place previously, because it had never been needed.”

Farlol flipped his tentacle tips in agitation. “While I bathed, I ordered that their insulting warning to be played for me, and learn that it was deliberately delivered as if from a Thandol female. I think that was done to trick me into some rash act. They also claimed they were exacting a penalty from us. I believe, aside from the damage done to our prestige, the penalty was to be my ship and its crew. This was done in exchange for the punishment we previously delivered to them, for their insult at interrupting my warning message to them. Do you know how many of their peasants died on that colony? What species they were? How many Thandol died today? Would you say there was a balance?”

With a hollow rush of breath through his right trunk, a sort of sigh of dread, Trindal feared to deliver the bad news. Even a million dead humans might not balance a single Thandol life in the Emperor’s mind, but the ledger was far more out of balance than that.

“We do not have a count of those killed on the colony world we struck, but it could have been in the tens of thousands. We believe they were all human, because the others killed appear to have been livestock, and not unknown and intelligent new species as the Imperial Speaker speculated.”

The noble that the Emperor had selected to deliver the four warnings to Paradise had little experience with subservient races even in the Empire, being a huge elitist snob. He had ordered the Crusher commander to destroy the livestock in the pens at the colony, claiming they appeared to be representatives of the other reported species known to reside in the Federation. The commander had no shortage of Decoherence bombs, and no desire to contradict a close relative of the Emperor, so he did what he was asked.

“My cousin reported there were a number of other unknown species present, but in small numbers. I want to know our losses last night.”

“Your Highness, we were fortunate in that the Emperor’s Pride was at home port, with only a partial crew aboard. We think there were twenty to twenty-one thousand crew and Imperial staff aboard him, but not all of those ashore have reported in for a full accounting of those lost. Commander Valtep was aboard him, but not Vice-Commander Granwor.”

Unexpectedly, he saw the Emperor shiver, despite the warm water spraying over him. His next words explained that odd response, instead of the angry outburst anticipated.

“I had planned to travel to Jorndal, for a vacation with my favorite young females in another three days. As you know, I move the females aboard two days early, to let them grow accustomed to the change in routine, so they are receptive when I arrive. They, or I, could have been present when those monsters attacked.”

Ah. Trindal understood now. It was the sense of the Emperor’s own mortality that concerned him this morning. Along with the vagaries of random fate. Farlol knew, as any Emperor before him had, that his reign had nearly an even chance of ending unpleasantly early for him. A noble was fortunate to be elevated to herd master at any level in a family herd, with his choice of a number of adoring females for mating. This desire was an ingrained instinctive urge in every male Thandol, particularly overachieving Emperors. Not that a male of any noble family suffered from empty mating stands in their bedrooms. Mere sex, or a greater number of young and attractive partners wasn’t the end goal for a noble male, it was simply a side benefit of achieving dominance, of family herd leadership.

In noble families, it was an instinctive urge to become the Imperial Herd Master, for however brief a time, which made the rise to ultimate power worth the effort and risk for a noble born male. Dying when at the top of the heap, defending your right to be there, left behind a legacy to be envied of the leader being overthrown. The pride of having achieved that position at all, when so few did.

The alternative, to die of some sickness before old age took you implied a weakness of body, mind, and spirit, which tarnished one’s legacy. To die by some accident implied poor planning or lack of attention, another source of tarnish. Worse, however, was to be killed by a group from outside any herd, such as by this enemy or any subservient species, which represented a failure in leadership, an indication of weakness, and one of incompetence, regardless of circumstances.

That ending was not considered a tarnished legacy for you; rather it was no legacy at all. You would vanish from the line of your Imperial predecessors in history, not leaving even a gap to be listed before the next historical legacy appeared after you, making it appear as if your successor had ruled the Empire during your time in charge, as if you had never existed.

Trindal was worried his Emperor would overreact. “Your Highness, we must consider our response carefully. We could send our other Crushers to their worlds to extract our vengeance. Yet, if the enemy has the means to deliver more of those massively destructive bombs, the loss of another Crusher would be noted by our subservient species, as this one will be noted. We must preserve these valuable symbols of your power, for awing those that cannot resist its destructive power, or hope to even damage one.”

Then Emperor Farlol’s former life experience, as head of the previous Emperor’s Alien Intelligence Service, exerted itself. He’d not always been such a seeming dilettante at intrigue and strategy. Decadence had gradually crept up on him, after enough orbits engaging in the pleasures and excesses that near absolute power provided. Despite that, he maintained contact with former young nobles in the career field he’d subverted to spy on the previous Emperor’s court. He was not about to forget the lesson he’d taught the corrupt old Emperor, Farlol the eighty third, whom he’d personally strangled with his own younger and much stronger trunks.

“High Commander, I want you to provide the Ragnar with four Strangler class warships equipped with Debilitater projectors. Order them to reduce a recently established Federation colony world, for which I will provide the coordinates, to smoking ruble after stunning their population into painful submission. I want the Ragnar to preserve a few fours of survivors from each city they destroy. They must let them watch and report the destruction and killings as they lay helpless and in pain. Send an Imperial Observer to watch the destruction, and repeat my generous offer to the survivors to allow them to join the Empire if they swear allegiance to me.”

He revealed how he knew this much about the Federation.

“My surveillance reports, from undetectable and slow level one drones, have not yet found any of their more populated worlds, but we have located some colonies. We have also examined former known Krall worlds, where savage and defeated Krall warriors appear to be on the verge of killing and eating their own young. The Federation appears content to watch the remnants of their former enemy destroy themselves. Their claim to have not shown mercy to them was accurate.”

“Your Highness, the enemy must have large population centers to have recruited the huge armies needed to beat back the hordes of Krall. They could have suffered huge losses in the process, but they obviously were victorious. There is considerable support invested in any new colony. Where does that help come from?”

There was a tentacle twitch of negation. “Unknown. We have sent drones to watch them, and they clearly have watched us as well. For example, they knew that we trace movements of our subservient species through Tachyon Space. How else could they know how to conceal their approach to Wendal, mimicking a Crusher’s trail, and then retreat and vanish without any trail that leads back to one of their populated worlds? They are concealing their travel from us, expecting us to search for their major centers. A very cunning group of cooperative species. We have not encountered this situation previously.”

An alternative explanation, that the Galactic Federation really did have a low population, never entered their minds. Merely by defeating the Krall, they had convinced the Thandol they had far greater numbers, and they clearly possessed technology similar to what the Krall had taken from the Olt’kitapi. The Krall’s most powerful weapon, the gravity projectors used to destroy whole worlds, had somehow not won the war for them.

The Thandol were confident the quantum key system, left in place by the Olt’kitapi, assured that the other species of the Federation shouldn’t be able to use that weapon, even if it was captured intact. The Empire’s own carefully hoarded population of Olt’kitapi descendants had told them what they believed the key did, confident that the Thandol could not solve the mystery of how it worked. It involved a mysterious fifth force of nature, which the Thandol had not discovered, even after all this time.

Learning that the Krall lost access to their weapons, to the Thandol it was apparent what the humans had done. They had learned how to list the DNA pattern of the Krall in an encrypted list in the key circuits, to deny them the ability to activate their own ships and weapons. Humans hadn’t needed to understand how the keys worked, just how to add an encrypted DNA pattern to a database on a key chip. That chip then passed the new database to other chips, by whatever method the fifth force provided.

The Thandol had used a drone to obtain drifting debris from a destroyed clanship, and studied the changes in the coding contained in several key circuits. They had samples of Krall DNA from dead bodies, and observed differences in an encrypted table stored in the mysterious key circuits, changed from the same tables found in uninfected Krall weapons. With that clue, they had deduced the encryption method used in that table. That didn’t tell the Thandol how the circuits transmitted their information to other key circuits, using the fifth force, but they realized they knew enough to add other identically encoded DNA patterns to that table. Such as human DNA. They believed they could disable access to the clanships the humans used, in the same way the humans had done to the Krall.

The Empire had been unable to subvert the stubborn insects, to convince or force them to rediscover the science behind the fifth force, or of gravity projectors, and to share that with the Thandol. The adult builders had a plausible explanation for their not knowing how to do that already. The adolescent forms the Thandol had recovered didn’t have mind enhancers, functioning ones for Olt’kitapi adults were not available, and the new adults didn’t know how the fifth force functioned, or know the mathematics of the quantum gravitational manipulation used in the gravity projectors. The theories behind those two branches of science may have been part of the data on mind enhancers, but those no longer existed.

The survivors also shared the original adult’s weakness of a moral conscience, because they said they wouldn’t work on rediscovering the technology for Thandol use, under any circumstances. The circumstances became very grim for some of the captives, but they refused to yield.

The Emperor admitted they were hampered now by lack of information about the Federation. “Searching many of the stars in the region the Krall once controlled, at least those that were closest to our borders, the drones often found worlds that showed signs of previous habitation by other species, but which had only single Krall clans using the entire world as a training and breeding center. Sometimes they had slave operated production centers, which only made war material, but never were there large non-Krall populations on any planet.

“Commander, we have no idea where the Federation strength lies yet. When the Ragnar have made an example of the the known Federation colonies, we will learn from the survivors where their major worlds are located, and understand more about their weaknesses.

“I want the offensive carefully organized, supplied, and ready for departure within a quarter of a Wendal orbit. The Ragnar must learn more about which of the Foundation colonies they should attack first and occupy. It is from that base they will launch their future operations. I want their scouts to leave in a tenth of an orbit, to study the colonies we know about. These will be the weakest points within the Federation, and not well enough established to offer any opposition to us.”

The High Commander was relieved that his sovereign ruler retained some of the skills that had won him the throne. The Emperor was making rational decisions, after the shock he’d received last night had worn away. Trindal surprisingly dropped to his front knees, his trunks crossed. A posture of respect not demanded of highborn noble males of the Emperor’s own family herd.

“You have prepared a brilliant initial response your Highness.”

Using his trunks to help, the middle-aged High Commander rose up onto his front footpads again. Although it wasn’t truly a brilliant plan in his personal opinion, it was much better than he’d expected. He added his own endorsement in favor of selecting the Ragnar as their tool of choice, and suggested future considerations to motivate them.

“The Ragnar have been eager for a fight to show their worth, and none of the subservient species within their security zone have dared challenge them for many orbits. We will want to grant them additional security responsibility in a portion of the annexed territory, and a share of the new taxes when they come. Of course, we will have to balance their strengthening with additional responsibility offered to our other two security forces. Perhaps, when the defeated humans have joined the Empire, we can permit them to provide security in another part of the annexed territory. They appear to be aggressive and tough enough. We might finally cultivate the fourth security force we have wanted, providing true balance in the empire. Having just the three security forces has seemed unstable, as if we stood only on three legs. The Empire will nearly double in size under your wise rule, and this new region, eventually that entire short arm of stars, will be ripe with new species for us to bring into the Empire.”

That last bit of personal lubrication would please the Emperor, and ensured the High Commander would be looked upon with greater favor, diverting suspicions of betrayal. If the war didn’t go well for the Ragnar, and the Emperor’s decision of how to use them proved unwise, the High Commander was also a noble in the extended Farlol family. He was old enough to find support from his own allies in the family, should he decide to make a try for the throne. Only time would tell.

****

The five ships staggered their return to Haven and Koban, by overshooting the destination by a half day of extra travel away from the Galactic core, then turning back using T-squared speed. They didn’t know how far the Empire could trace them in Tachyon Space, and they intended to consult with the Dismantler’s about how sensitive that technology was.

Mirikami contacted Pholowela. “Polo, we have returned from our journey into the Empire, and your advice and information was invaluable. My ship has just returned to the Koban system, and the four other ships are arriving soon. I was told you are working with your sister ships in their mental recovery, and thus are a long distance from Koban, which suits a test I wish to conduct. I have a request of you.”

“Greetings, friend Tet. I am with Afromfela, who has awakened. She is curious about what has happened in the sixteen thousands of your years she shut her mind away. I am sharing my recent experiences with her. What is your request?”

“The Thandol, as you informed us, are able to monitor travel at the higher two levels of Tachyon Space. We used that knowledge to visit the Emperor’s home world of Wendal, using a form of deceptive concealment, traveling in plain sight. After performing our intended act of retribution there, a repayment for the violent acts they have taken against our colonies, we departed for home.

“We did this using caution, hoping we did not reveal where the Koban system is located. They will be extremely angry, seeking revenge. My request is to ask if you, or your sisters that know where the Koban system is located, are able to detect our tachyon traces here. The four other ships are still inbound.”

There was a notable pause, particularly so for an Artificial Intelligence whose mental processes were even faster than a Kobani’s. When she returned, she seemed confused.

“Friend Tet, my sisters and I do not see any threads that passed near us, which could be your ships. Not in level two or three. A level three Jump would be the most prominent, although we could not possibly see such a trail all the way to Koban. We could extrapolate along a detected track, extending the projected line if we saw one. Then we would infer where you might have gone if we suspected where you might choose to go. If you change direction beyond that detection range, we would not sense the change in weakening waves of low energy tachyons. At least not for a mass as small as a clanship. Even the large ships the Thandol sent to Paradise and Green Atoll do not leave a wake detectable much farther away.

“Unlike your original thought messages left in Tachyon Space, via your Mind Tap ability, the disturbance of a ship’s passage is not addressed to any specific mind, and the wake of their passage fades below detectability quicker than do your messages.”

“Oh. I didn’t know of that distance limitation. None of our ships passed within two hundred light years of where you are while we were in T-cubed travel, so apparently you couldn’t pick us up. How are the Thandol able to do that over such a large region?”

“The Thandol had thousands of monitor stations in the past, with equipment sensitive to low energy tachyon waves, and they may have more monitors now. The waves caused by a spacecraft in the T-squared level have a detectable range of several light years, and at T-cubed perhaps ten light years for ships as small as yours. The largest Thandol ships, when in the third level, might be detected at one hundred light years. It is unlikely the Thandol can cover all of their own volume of stars, and possibly none of this region as of yet.”

“Thanks. We didn’t know that, but it implies they could have that capability in the future, by placing more monitors in our space. They will want to know where most of us live. Again, our low numbers and a single critical location are both a liability, and our protection.”

“Yes, I can see that would be the case, friend Tet. Was there more I can do for you?”

“Not at the present. However, there is something I can do for you, although I hope you will exercise restraint and not travel there immediately.”

“I do not understand, travel where?”

“Pholowela, not all of the Olt’kitapi died at the hands of the Krall, or as a result of their own mental self-destruction after Kratos was destroyed. Some of their juvenile forms survived the deaths of the adults, and went into hiding inside the Empire, protected by a friendly and compassionate species there. They grew into adult forms, and still live there, hidden from the Thandol. They no longer have the mind enhancers of the adult forms that you knew, but they are very intelligent. We met some of them.”

Jumbled replies from multiple Dismantlers, which had apparently been in a common link with Pholowela, revealed a truth about those AI’s. They clearly felt the stronger emotions. Surprise, excitement, and joy were the most prevalent emotions expressed.

Demonstrating they could deduce the obvious facts, Pholowela asked, “Why shouldn’t we go to Canji Mot to recover them?”

“I didn’t say they were on Canji Mot, or that the Hothor were the species protecting them. I’m not sure they will want to leave where they are, and I’m certain they do not want their hosts placed at risk.”

Pholowela told him bluntly, “It is logically only the Hothor that have sheltered them, and if the builders and makers are not on Canji Mot, then they are on Canji Dol or Canji Trob. Dol has the warmer climate for them, and a more favorable gravity. Why shouldn’t we go to them, friend Tet? We can travel undetected, as you did.”

“Perhaps you should ask them directly.”

“You said they did not have mind enhancers.”

“They don’t, and they have a reasonable fear of them, based on past experience. They have lost the technology to build them anyway, but that is a problem with a solution, I think. In the meantime, you can communicate with them via the two Prada communications devices we left with them. They are just as untraceable as mind enhancers or Comtaps, using tachyon modulation. I’ll provide you with the device addresses, and you must honor their decision to remain hidden where they are, unless they wish to return to their old worlds, in what will likely become a war zone again in this region.”

“We agree to that restriction, friend Tet. We would never go against the wishes of our creators, or of their descendants, for any reason.”

He gave them the two device addresses, and eager as human teenagers, they all thanked him and quickly broke the link with him.

Maggi, who had been quietly linked with her husband throughout, said, “That will be one long and jumbled damned conference call, I think.”

“No doubt. Now the pleasant task is over. Let’s get to work on the unpleasant crap in the Council Chambers. We need to discuss the hornet’s nest I’m sure we kicked in the Empire.”

****

“Tet, what did you get us into?” President Stewart MacDougal felt like he was in over his head. He was good at administration, organizing the new government, establishing the departments, selecting good people, and getting cooperation from the aliens, the Kobani, and most difficult, from the Normal humans. Now they were facing a takeover by an already well-organized ancient Empire, which Mirikami had just poked directly in the eye.

“Stewart, they attacked us first, and they had made plans to absorb us before we even knew they existed. I wanted to make an effort to dissuade them, to make them reconsider, to slow them down. I demonstrated to them that their giant warships were actually vulnerable, at least to the people that defeated the Krall, even if that ship was orbiting over the most secure planet in their Empire.”

“They’ll come after us now with a vengeance.”

“Do you think they weren’t coming after us anyway? Maggi played you the discussions we recorded with the Hothor, the information we obtained from the Dismantlers, and what we learned from the Olt’kitapi. The Empire has annexed, a milder sounding term than conquered, every intelligent species they have ever encountered, except the Olt’kitapi and then the Krall. The Krall killed the Olt’kitapi, and then had use of their technology with the greatest military application. The Thandol were afraid of them, and pulled back to remain hidden.

“Then, we come along and beat the Krall, by eliminating their access to the Olt’kitapi technology. We did it in a fashion the Thandol probably think will also allow them to disable it for us. Anyway, they expect us to be weaker after that destructive war, enough so that they could defeat humanity even with Krall weapons, and certainly so if we lost our use of captured clanships. That would be true if we still required these,” he pointed a thumb at his tattoo, “to activate the equipment. The Thandol can’t possibly know that we used the Torki knowledge of how to install the code key circuits, to remove them for us. The Thandol would never give their own subject races that level of knowledge or control over major weapons, and the Krall ego wouldn’t allow those warriors to think that it mattered.”

Stewart wasn’t convinced. “They surely must believe that humans will fight back. We Kobani are only the tip of the iceberg of humanity. Do you think they know about the PU?”

“Mr. President, their message to us at Paradise didn’t mention anything other than the volume of stars the Olt’kitapi, and later the Krall had control over. I think they believe all of humanity is embedded somewhere inside that large volume, which is reasonably close to correct, with the PU a mere five hundred light year bump on the anti-spinward side of the far vaster former Krall territory.

“The Thandol seem to have focused on the T-squared and T-cubed travel activity around our new colonies, at least those colonies that were nearest to their borders, where their outlying monitors could sense them. I think they have also had automated observation drones in our space. They wouldn’t have wanted to risk living scouts that a Krall could capture, carve up and make talk. They could have been led to the Empire that way. I don't think they know much about the planets deeper into Federation territory.”

“OK. So what is the Empire’s strength? Their army and navy? Or do you have any clue?”

“We do have a clue. They use three subject races to fight for them, keeping their own large naval force out of the fights when possible. Space faring or not, every species encountered becomes unwilling subjects of the Empire, and are completely controlled by them as subservient to the Thandol. About twenty-six species, if the Hothor count was current.

“If a species is awed enough by the Thandol’s Crusher class warships, they join the Empire with minimal destruction and pain. If they resist, they are smacked down hard, with cities destroyed and any military forces eradicated. Three of the physically strongest and most aggressive species they annexed were granted a higher status in the Empire, and act as agents for the Thandol in enforcing their rule. The Thandol do not share their most advanced technology with them, and they limit the weapons the security forces have available for use.”

The Federation president was thrilled. “Gee, so we only have to face the forces of three surrogate armies and navies, strength unknown, and they in turn are backed up by their really tough bosses, the high technology ships and weapons of the Thandol. I’m so relieved. I can’t tell you how reassured I am. I literally cannot tell you.”

Thad was annoyed with the defeatist attitude. “Damn it, Mister President, we’ll only face them one at a time. The Ragnar are the security force for the Thandol in the nearest border region to our territory. The Thandol don’t let the three species get chummy, to prevent them from combining forces. The Finth and Thack Delos are on the far sides of the Thandol Empire, the Thack Delos being at the greatest distance. We won’t face the other two unless we beat the Ragnar.”

MacDougal shook his head. “Colonel, somehow your effort at comforting did exactly the opposite. All you did was list opponents in the approximate order we’ll face them. We have about forty thousand Kobani of fighting age. We need help.”

Mirikami corrected him. “That’s how many are on Koban and Haven. Heavyside has been busy. There are nearly twenty five thousand spec ops Kobani in Human Space, with about ten thousand of them with Mind Tap. Paradise colonists had accepted clone mods, and expected to move into Koban mods eventually, after their various Hub origin populations severed more financial ties with the PU. The other three human colonies are already starting Koban mods, since they came mostly from Poldark, New Dublin, and Rim Worlds that had been raided often. They saw what happened when the Krall arrived, and never want to be that vulnerable again. A few thousand of them have transformed, and about thirty thousand more of them have agreed to do so. We can accelerate that.”

“Fine, so there might be about seventy thousand people that are now Kobani, and thirty thousand more have committed to the transformation. Golly gee, Tet, a hundred thousand of us versus a trillion of them just doesn’t seem like enough on our side, now does it? This fight isn’t shaping up to use us as the spear point for the PU’s vastly larger military force of Normals, this time. We’ll be on the front lines, alone.”

“Which means, Stewart, we’ll have to open up the Kobani mods to all comers in Human Space. They won’t have to become Federation residents, but they’ll have to come to us to receive the mods. Perhaps that will induce more of them to immigrate to the Federation, since they’ll become rebels back home. We can’t reveal the existence of the smaller Heavyside center, which is in Human Space and therefore within the PU’s purview to shut down. The military base there is going to wind down soon anyway, as they gradually eliminate the Krall that are still fighting on former invasion worlds. The PU won’t need to keep so many active duty spec ops, or so large an army for that matter. They don't even know about the Empire yet.

“I know we can get Nabarone to start a word-of-mouth recruiting effort in the army ranks. The Mind Tap mod will still be restricted to those we vet for mental stability, but that mod will be the hardest one to withhold, since everyone in Human Space knows about that ability. We can reserve it for actual immigrants to the Federation. It isn’t as if they can hide their intentions from us unless they block their thoughts. If they do that, they don’t get the mod.”

MacDougal wasn’t satisfied. “Why do you think the PU army will be fertile ground for accepting the mods? Those men and women came from all over Human Space, including Hub worlds. They’ll represent a cross section of old biases.”

“Stewart, do you remember who on Koban were the first and most eager to get the full set of mods after the Krall pulled out?”

“Of course. About 99.9% of everyone living in Prime City wanted them. About 20% of Hub City couples wanted just the clone mods, for having children. Only our kids, when they finally came along, wanted the full mods at age eighteen.”

“The reason Prime City went whole heartedly after the Koban mods, was that they were the people who had been confronted with the random chance of facing the Krall in combat for years, with about a 99.9% fatal outcome if they did. The Hub City residents were the newcomers, and they had never lived with that fear.”

“OK. I see your point. Those troops have faced that enemy, and many will recognize the value of our physical ability. Most of those soldiers will be motivated because they’ve seen the Kobani in action. Won’t their conversions have to wait for the war to wrap up, and their discharge?”

“The PU doesn’t own them, Stewart. They all are routinely rotated out of combat for Rest and Recreation, and receive two weeks of leave at least twice a year. We have the gene insertion process down to two weeks to install the mods and accelerate their start. Then they complete transformation outside of the med labs in another two weeks, with full muscle development and acclimatization lasting a couple more months, during which time they will have improved performance. We could equip migration ships with med labs and nanites aboard them, to use them as transformation wards. For example, we might send them to the Rim Worlds of K1 and Bollovstic, where the fighting continues.”

“How will you get the PU to accept us there?”

“Stewart, those two planets are not inside the Hub region, they were never New Colonies, and they don’t have a local government anymore. The PU has no legal basis for telling us we can’t go there. It’s cynical to say this, but they also don’t have a means to put pressure on the dead former residents to ask us to leave, so there’s no local outcry. I think we can reasonably claim that the residents would have wished to be Kobani rather than dead.

“Besides, we can also operate the same migration ships as free hospital wards for injured troops, keeping that service separate from the transformation wards. Those are big ships, so we can subdivide them. Poldark and New Dublin are New Colonies and part of the PU, so we would have to operate a free vacation trip for army candidates to visit those mobile wards. It’s less than an hour at T cube speeds to K1 or Bollovstic.”

Stewart nodded his acceptance, but was worried. “That might produce significant results in a few years Tet. What do we do in the meantime?”

“We try to keep the fighting with the Empire as much in space as we can. We have four thousand eight hundred ships, after returning some repaired clanships to service. If we maintain ten ships to stand watch near each of the ten new colonies, keep two thousand closer to home here, in case we’re discovered, we still have two thousand seven hundred ships to use as quick reaction forces, and for our shipping commitments with the Rim Worlds, and to guard the border closest to the Empire.”

“Mister President,” Sarge interjected. “I have a suggestion concerning manned border patrols.”

“You want to volunteer?” Thad suggested, with a grin. “I’m shocked.”

“No, I’ve figured out a way that no one needs to do that, wise guy.”

Before Thad could snap out a retort, Maggi reminded him of something, “Don’t dismiss him before you even hear his idea, lunk head. He saved your bacon at Novi Pazar Lodge on Poldark, when the Krall swarmed your butts.” Reynolds had rigged two ladybugs to detonate their own fusion bottles that time, pulling a mountainside down on the Krall.

“Continue, Sarge.” MacDougal was a longtime observer of the two friends perpetual heckling of one another.

More surprised at Maggi’s support than by the expected needling from Thad, Sarge restarted. “Right. Well, we have at least seven hundred or so navy patrol boats, which we kept after Medford forced us to evacuate our Comtap people from Human Space, after she tried to kidnap Tet. They usually just sit around on the tarmacs at the Xenos spaceport, or on Koban. They’re too small for cargo use, and all we do is use them like public taxis with Jump capability. Why not use them for border watching?”

MacDougal nodded. “I’ve borrowed them multiple times to travel between Haven and Koban, Sarge, but they’re awfully cramped for a long wait in a remote area like that. They can only do a T-squared Jump, so rotating observers and getting resupply is an issue at that distance. They’d take a month of travel one way just to go or return.”

“No Sir, I mean we should install a simple AI in the patrol boats, give them a Prada com set link to Instellarnet, and they can report back to us instantly. We have our own detectors for sensing the tachyon wake of a squadron of ships, similar to what the Krall used to trace human fleets. Can we place a detector like that on those boats, to watch for Empire ships entering our space? The Thandol watch their people’s movements, one ship at a time. If ours are sensitive enough, we should watch for Empire incursions with our own automated monitors.”

Maggi, looking at Thad’s abashed expression, taunted him, “A dumb ole sergeant once again makes a full bird Colonel look full bird brained.” Her mocking laughter didn’t convey the charm that her dimpled smile and blond curls suggested should flow from the small sprite she resembled. Instead, it emanated from the mind of a hundred fifteen-year-old imp, concealed within the young shell, who enjoyed embarrassing her close friends.

“I..., uh…,” Greeves stammered before Sarge helped slip Thad’s own foot into the open orifice.

“You want to volunteer? Why you certainly can. You might even set up the patrol boats, under my supervision of course. I wouldn't want the job screwed up by some clueless boob.”

As was often the case, Mirikami was force to move the discussion forward. “That idea will keep more combat capable ships free to intercept Empire incursions, or for raiding them if they make any new threats, or attack on us. Good suggestion Sarge.”

Next, Dillon was asked to report on the inquiries presented to the science teams, about refining the Novae missile weapon, and the possible vulnerability of their body armor to the Debilitater ray of the Thandol.

They also had asked if there was even a theoretical defense against the Decoherence warheads. The fifth force used by that weapon had a mode that was able to break down the quantum mechanical bonds of matter. Molecular atomic bonds broke, but not the strong nuclear bonds. The weapon was obviously related to the older narrow beam Q-rupter device invented by the Raspani. Both were cousins to the even more ancient Olt’kitapi Katusha, which embedded and detected the quantized and encrypted DNA keys of living creatures, which also had a narrow beam like a Katusha, and the characteristic short range.

The Thandol weapon’s warhead was delivered apparently in the same fashion as the Novae missiles, traveling through Tachyon Space, and rotating to Normal Space to emerge inside the target. There was a significant difference between the delivery methods, however.

The Novae became destructive simply because it was large and relatively massive, and emerged within the matter comprising the target. A powerful, uncontrolled explosive reaction occurred, which could release enough energy to approximate a nuclear reaction. The strength of the explosive effect was quite variable and unpredictable, and depended on how much of the arriving matter actually intersected with the target’s most dense matter. In the case of the Thandol Crusher ships, where their densest mass was concentrated at its geometric center, it was the ideal spot for a Novae strike. It had destroyed its target with a single hit. However, had the target been constructed more like a migration ship, nearly hollow and without any water stored internally, there would be a weaker intersect with dense matter, so a Novae would have considerably less destructive power. It would still be fatal to the target, but it would not produce the huge blast and collateral damage that the Crusher had caused to its brother ship in orbit.

The Thandol had a means of launching their smaller warheads via Jumps that originated from inside the Crusher, apparently hundreds of them per minute, either from multiple Jump drive launchers, which seemed the most plausible method, or via some improbable machinegun-like rapid-fire effect from a single launcher. The exact physical size of the warhead wasn’t known, but like the circuits of a Q-rupter, the beam generating chips didn’t have to be any larger than a human fingernail. Even intersects with matter in the target by a mass so small would produce a small explosion, and surely would destroy the warhead before it had a chance of generating the disintegration beam. There had been no indication of any intersects at Paradise, despite at least a thousand warheads used there.

This meant the Thandol had a targeting system that sought out low-density voids in the target, a ship or structure, where it would encounter only air. Yet the small warheads were somehow able to endure intersecting with atmosphere, which still contained a low density of matter. That seemed improbable luck for so many hits, since air had sufficient density that some of the warhead circuits should have failed.

Then Dillon presented some good news, and some bad news. “The PU navy had only converted an existing Jump capable shuttle sized drone to become the Novae. They used the drone’s AI for navigation control, but the physical size and the complex AI are a bit of overkill. If we use a simpler AI, and a smaller Jump drive, each of them placed inside a smaller dense spherical casing, and we would be able to launch them from inside the holds of our ships without opening our portals and giving up our stealth. They say they can put all of that inside a one-meter diameter steel sphere.

“By using multiple mass detectors, at nose, tail, and center of our ships, we can get a better triangulated fix on the densest mass concentrations within nearby enemy ships, and use those coordinates for our launches. Naturally, forming an internal event horizon inside the ship’s hold will take a foot or so of added volume with it for each launch, but by suspending the spheres with cables, that will prevent us sending anything along with them other than air and part of the support cable.”

He grinned. “Since they aren’t coming back, we don’t have to worry about shielding against the gamma rays as they White Out, which is the least of the worries for those at the receiving end.”

“Any timeline on production of the new Novae bomb?” Mirikami asked.

A headshake. “I caught flak from Max, Coldar, and Blue, when I asked that very question. They haven’t even designed the thing yet, and don’t want to be rushed.”

Mirikami waved a hand, “Don’t worry, I’ll speak to them. The Thandol may put pressure on us that we can’t control. What’s the bad news?”

“I saved the worst for last, but it isn’t entirely bad. We tested our armor against Jazzers, fired at close range, and there is some minor leakage at every joint, particularly when the beam incident angle is optimum to leak through microscopic but airtight gaps.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“The experts say we can even reduce the leakage to our body by wearing wire shielded clothing under our suits, particularly at the joints.”

“That might chafe, but we can implement that solution rather quickly.”

“Even that solution leaves some unanswered questions. We don’t know the frequency spectrum of the actual radiation to study the neurological effect, or if the frequency they use is much higher with shorter wavelength, and thus can leak through easier than a Jazzer does. There’s uncertainty on what impact it’ll have on us if a suit does leak slightly.

“I think our real problem is what do we do to protect our non-combat people? We can’t put every civilian, and I particularly include our children, in suits and mesh clothing all of the time. The Thandol consider this a non-lethal crowd control weapon, and the Hothor say the security forces all have them, and use them freely if called upon to subdue resistance on a subject planet. At close enough range it’s fatal to most species, but we’re tougher than most species.”

Mirikami considered their options. “It doesn’t seem like armored Kobani have much to worry them about the Debilitater, but it could be a weapon of choice if they attack any place populated with our civilians and alien allies. We need to provide them with shelters, perhaps a room at home enclosed with conductive mesh, for them to jump inside if there is an aerial attack, or possibly just a mesh pulled over the roofs of buildings will work. I’m assuming the beam becomes less effective after reflection from the ground or from other structures. A Jazzer beam won’t scramble your nerves effectively via reflection, but it’s a short-range low power weapon anyway. So that’s all I have for now.”

Stewart was ready to move on to other matters. “If that concludes the military side of our meeting, I have to deal with a matter related to our new Department of Colonial Affairs. We have an influx of nearly six thousand new immigrants from Human Space passing through Haven this week, acquiring clone mods here. They’re destined to join the new Zanzibar Redoux colony in another five days. Their supply ships are loading now on Tanners world, a Rim world that contracted to deliver their property, and we need the colonists to be delivered to Zanzibar just when their supplies arrive and require unloading.

“As you know, the colonist already landed there were from three different Rim worlds, but they don’t particularly want to help native Terrans move in next door. It’s a bit of reverse discrimination, but it’ll work itself out when they get to know each other. These are relatively poor people, who have not benefited very much from Earth’s prosperity. They were attracted to the colony name, its mild climate, and large number of big islands. We offered to transport them there free of charge, if they managed to get out of the Hub area to some Rim World.

“We simply couldn’t turn down Earth citizens as immigrants to the Federation; the publicity will be great for us. These are people mostly from East Africa, and from the island of Zanzibar on Earth, who have all opted for Koban mods before the end of the year. Instead of returning here for the Koban mods, the proposed mobile transformation ward would actually be just the thing to send there. Like Paradise, the planet has higher gravity than standard, about 1.2 g’s, so Kobani mods will make it extremely easy to live and work there. I’m confident the Rimmers will want to keep up with them, so I think many of them will opt for the mods. What I’m asking today, is if some of the Kobani aboard the ships guarding the colony can help them with the heavy lifting in the first few days. I want to pay them in Fed credits for their time, of course.”

The Minister of the Department of Colonial Affairs, Clarice Femfreid, of Mirikami’s Spider Hole Team fame, said she would find some way to squeeze money from her budget, and pay the Kobani helpers in Federation credits, for working during their free time. Fed credits weren’t accepted at any Hub world, and only the Rim Worlds that traded with the Federation would accept them. The use of money was finally catching on with the young Kobani, as they encountered Rimmers that expected cash for services or purchases.

Stewart shook his head in amazement. “Earthborn Kobani. I didn’t expect to see that happen so soon. We’re growing almost as fast as we can transport the people to the new planets. I wonder how long we can keep this pace going.”

****

“At this pace we will soon find their main worlds.” Asserted Force Commander Gimtal Thond, better known by his nickname “Bone Breaker,” in the Ragnar language. It was his practice, as a young trooper in an Enforcer brigade, one of four units in a Punishment battalion, to use his highly muscular build to break the bones or exoskeletons of several of whichever subject species was receiving the Empire’s object lesson. The practice got him noticed by his admiring fellow Enforcers, and by his superiors, who appreciated his attitude. Anyone could pull a trigger, but snapping a limb or spine was personal, and a more impressive feat that demanded strength and aggression.

Even as he rose through the ranks to officer status, he kept this popular image alive for the enjoyment of the Enforcers and Punishers under his command, making sure he broke a few bones in a live broadcast from every action he participated in, or led. He hoped there would be multiple species at this Federation colony, so he could increase his legendary string of different species bones broken or crushed, he was looking for species number twelve and higher today.

He passed his orders to his Force Lieutenant Commander, FLC Grudfad, “Advise all units that we will attack when the scouts return. If the current disposition of enemy ships guarding this world is unchanged, we will follow my original plan, or I’ll make an adjustment.”

He shivered his grey tipped black fur, which covered his thick muscular frame under his utility belts, thus showing his eager anticipation. It started at his broad shoulders, and moved down his thick torso, to his hips. This was one of the milder aggression displays of his species, and it inspired others to make similar displays. He’d done it a number of times this week, along with occasional heavy chest thumps with his fists, making deep grunts. The shiver displays on the Bridge had started after he’d been given this assignment, along with his new rank. The Thandol had not appointed a Force Commander to any of their security forces for over a generation of the long lived Ragnar.

His younger Lieutenant promptly shivered his own glossy solid black fur in sympathetic response. Then the shiver display spread among the other members of the Bridge crew of the Smasher class cruiser. Thond was the only silver tipped mature Ragnar on the Bridge, but his strength and virility wasn’t in doubt.

Grudfad noted something about their new opponents with considerable distain, “These careless aliens led us directly to their weakest new colonies with their continuous third level traffic. That was very reckless. They will soon learn a need for caution, right after they learn to fear us.”

This was the largest Annexation Campaign the Empire had ever conducted, and the first such campaign for the Ragnar in generations. The Empire normally grew slowly as they encountered new and scattered intelligent species, many of which were not yet space faring.

It was a rare opportunity for the Ragnar to exhibit their natural and innate aggression with fewer limits placed on their actions. Naturally, they hated the Thandol, but they also didn’t have the resources or technology to fight them and win. If they ever revolted, the Empire had promised that it would lead to their complete destruction. Instead, an agreement was reached to exploit the tall primate-like species natural aggression, and to reward them for their service. The Thandol sent them to fight on the Empire’s behalf, in exchange for a privileged position and a share of the taxes they collected in a third of the empire.

For a change, this time the action was not mere intimidation of some restive species within the Empire, such as a put down of a tax revolt, imposition of new trade regulations, or an object lesson to a species that failed to show proper respect for the Emperor or his family herd.

This was a large new region of star systems to add to the Empire. From historical records, it was known there should still be at least four or five surviving species in the region to subjugate. At one time there had been far more species there, eradicated now by a legendary foe, but the Krall enemy had never actually been fought by the Empire.

They were the vaunted and feared race the Ragnar had always wanted to confront. but the Krall were said to be gone now. When those ruthless barbarians had unexpectedly revolted against the Olt’kitapi long ago, and won, the Thandol had drawn back from where their borders had tentatively touched. The Krall had then rampaged with utter brutality and reckless abandon for thousands of years in the Orion Spur, where the Olt’kitapi had originated. The Empire quietly observed them from a safe distance. The Thandol knew they were destined to meet them someday, but they wanted to select opportune circumstances.

The Ragnar knew the Empire’s withdrawal demonstrated more than simple caution by the Thandol; it was a fear that went deeper than the threat of a barbarian horde with high tech weapons. The Ragnar military command, which was also the local governing group of their home world and their two colonies, had long ago decided the Thandol didn’t want any of their three security forces to witness exactly how the Krall had overthrown their more technically advanced masters. The truth was probably a composite of fearing the Krall, and of allowing their security force races to see a dangerous example of a successful revolt against powerful scientifically advanced overlords.

It was only within the last orbit the Thandol told the Ragnar that the Krall had been swiftly defeated by a new species that horde had recently encountered. They were beaten by a far less imposing looking young race with low technology, which had also used borrowed technology left behind by the Olt’kitapi. The weapon systems stolen by the Krall were specifically designed with a species based DNA key, which was required to activate those systems.

The new species, who called themselves humans, had somehow obtained and successfully used a technology that the Olt’kitapi had failed to implement properly during the Krall revolt. The humans had disabled the Krall’s keys ability to activate their own weapons.

Thond decided that what the Thandol were telling them was plausible, and that the human victors represented a lesser threat to the Empire. Otherwise, the Emperor wouldn’t take the risk of provoking these new aliens. The humans had only beaten an effectively disarmed enemy, which made them clever and opportunistic, but not necessarily tough or dangerous.

The Thandol were careful to inform the Ragnar that the same key disabling technology obviously didn’t apply to the Empire’s weapons. However, they thought the DNA key disabling tactic might work again, to disarm the same weapons these humans had taken from the Krall. The Ragnar were provided with a number of nondestructive missiles to test against the ships the humans had captured. They were not intended to destroy the rugged ships directly in combat, a task that was said to be difficult. The test was to see if the ships became unresponsive to the humans controlling them. Even if that didn’t work, the Ragnar were confident of their ability in war using their own ships, and hundreds more built by the Thandol, which supplemented their fleet.

The top Ragnar military leaders had long told their people, confidentially, that had they met the Thandol at an earlier time in the overlord race’s expansion, they were confident that today it would be a Ragnar led empire. Thandol trunks would be nuzzling furry Ragnar rumps in gratitude, for ruling and protecting them.

The scout ships they used were Thandol designed craft, spherical shaped which traveled in the third level of Tachyon Space. They used Thandol gamma ray suppression technology, which permitted them to exit to Normal Space in stealth mode, close to the target world. Undetected, they passively observed activity for two planetary rotations.

They reported forty-one ships in orbit, not spread out in a proper defensive posture, such as using staggered and crisscrossing orbits and altitudes, and they were not using active sensor scans or stealth. One ship was large, but it was one of the crab creature ships, which were not armed. There were twenty additional ships, all parked at one place on a large island, with apparently very few crew aboard them. Only ten were warships, the others cargo craft.

The humans from those warships, their species identified using the description and pictures provided by the Thandol, appeared to be helping other humans unload ten supply ships of a different design than the former Krall ships. Those supply ships did not appear to be armed.

This island was obviously the site of a completely new city, just being established on this colony world, despite the fact that there were three older cities. There were no large spacecraft parked anywhere else on the planet. The three other established cities had no defenses that were visible. They only had three modest sized shuttles each, parked on otherwise empty tarmacs. Those cities would be secondary targets, since the strongest defensive forces were in orbit, or parked at the newest colony city. Most of the crews of the grounded human ships were off their ships, performing manual labor such as unloading the cargo ships, and setting up prefabricated structures.

Force Commander Thond made a minor change to force dispositions. “As the Emperor’s Observer requires, I will send only fifty Ragnar ships to launch the individual test missiles against the Krall made craft, to learn if those will completely disable the ships the human’s captured. At least one missile will target each enemy craft aloft. This will obviously alert them to our attack, therefore in a second wave, the remaining four hundred fifty four ships, the two hundred Thandol Smasher class ships added to our three hundred Ravager class cruisers, will Jump and launch missiles with active warheads as soon as those first missiles reach their targets.

“In the second wave, the entire fleet will emerge and combine with our first fifty Ravagers, placing ten or eleven ships behind each human ship, and they will promptly fire all particle beams and heaviest lasers against every ship they find in orbit. The Smasher AI on the Empire’s Demand, the one carrying the Emperor’s Observer, has already assigned targets for each of us.” This Thandol interference galled him, since he felt his strike force should also simultaneously initiate their ground attack.

“When we have eliminated orbital defenses, the four Strangler’s and their Debilitater projectors will enter atmosphere over all four enemy cities, and subdue the civilian populations, leaving them helpless and in agony for our landings. For our main target, the newest colony, the Debilitater must strike swiftly, before the crews outside their ships can return to arm their plasma cannons and missile systems. They will learn what it is like to face an enemy that is more than a barbarian carrying a plasma rifle or flying a stolen ship.”

****

Trevon Caldwell, captain of the Thresher, had released his entire crew to earn extra Federation credits working ashore. So had the nine other Kobani captains parked at New Mombasa, here on Zanzibar Redoux. The young Kobani, without the benefit of an Earth based education, persisted in saying Zanzibar 2. To them, Redoux came from a “dead” language, as if Standard itself wasn’t a compilation of multiple old Earth languages.

The new colonists were already at work unloading the supply ships from Tanners world, when the ten Kobani ships landed. These helpers had quickly earned the respect of the new colonists, and generated considerable amazement and envy among them, when an individual Kobani was able to lift five times the weight a colonist could manage. This was with the colonists already feeling the strongest they had in their lives, after receiving clone mods on Haven.

With the gravity greater than that of Earth’s, the colonists had marveled at how light they felt upon landing. Their nearly doubled clone muscle strength made manual tasks easier, easing some of the anxiety they had felt about starting life over on this new and undeveloped planet. They soon received a preview of what the Kobani mods would do for them, when those were implemented sometime within the next year. Most of them were soon more eager to make the transition.

Twenty Kobani per ship, from ten ships, had made the need for the limited number of supply ship forklifts nearly redundant, provided there was room to crowd enough Kobani around bulky equipment to be lifted and moved. The Rim World crews of the supply ships had been impressed at the energy of the new colonists. Then the efforts of the Kobani, when they arrived later that same day, blew them away. The shipping companies weren’t very thrilled, since their contracts provided higher payments by the colonists the longer the ships were grounded for unloading. The Kobani presence guaranteed that they would be released for departure earlier than expected.

For equipment that had to be moved all the way across the growing town, where newly extruded Smart Plastic roadways were appearing hourly, a forklift was still a better option. The Kobani often muscled items off the ships onto cargo lifts to be lowered to ground level, where a forklift took them to their destination for final assembly and activation. The Kobani did that work even faster, and set new equipment up flawlessly after a single team member read the set up instructions. Then, after a joint handholding session, every team member on a project suddenly knew the entire manual. The teams would rapidly set each system up as if they were the expert technical representatives the colonists had been too poor to hire.

Caldwell wondered if there was enough work for five rotations of crews. They intended to rotate another ten ships today, twenty more tomorrow, and the last ten on the third day. That was so every ship could earn some extra Fed credits for the crews, doing interesting new things and mixing with the first Earth born humans the young Kobani had ever had a chance to meet.

He was in a Comtap link with Macy Gundarfem, the former Motorfem from the Flight of Fancy, who was the mission commander for the defense of Zanzibar. “Macy, I think you’d better plan on rotating another ten ships down in an hour. These youngsters don’t know what working by the hour means, when it comes to earning more of those Fed credits. After six hours of energetic work, each ship’s team down here is trying to outperform the other teams.

“If you want every ship’s crew to spend six or seven hours working for their money, you need to get them on the ground before the heavy work runs out. Unlike us old farts, these youngsters don’t know how to milk a job when they are being paid by the hour. In three more days it might be too late for the last ships, if the colonists are in a position to take over all of the remaining work.”

He sensed her amusement through the link. “Trevor, I think you’re right. I used scans to observe the town on each pass over you, and the gray roadways and base slabs for buildings bloomed like spreading branches of some fast growing vine. I wish I’d used stop action Tri-Vid shots on each pass, just so we could play it back for the people on the ground.

“I’ll pass the word to the next ten ships to get ready. They’ll not have room to land until after your group reaches orbit. Have one person from each of your ships Comtap what the team was working on and what they had learned, and send it to one person on their replacement ship.

“Just before you linked, I’d advised Captain Gotin of the Blue Seas, that he should start their random Jumps back to Haven. None of the other colony towns here reported any people that are unhappy enough to abandon the life of a colonist yet, ready to ask for a ride back. This means the Blue Seas can head home before the crew’s water pool needs to be replenished. The Torki get cranky if their soaking water gets too stale, and they don’t like the odor of the algae that lives in the oceans here. The detours to protect Haven’s location will already take them nearly four weeks of travel.”

“Do you think the Empire is watching us now? Our patrol boats have about half of our border covered with the Empire. They could be sending a fleet and we wouldn’t know it if they happened to bypass our first few monitors.”

“I don't think the Thandol want to mess with us. Not if the Krall had them worried, and we took care of the Krall.”

“I hope you’re right.”

****

FLC Grudfad passed along the alert from the Bridge sensor division officer. “Force Commander, the large crab ship has activated tachyon Trap fields for a second level Jump. It could capture a particle and be gone at any moment. Should we let them go, or…”

Thond’s reaction was immediate. “Fire the test missiles from the Ravagers and launch a parasite mine to attach to the large ship, set it for detonation if it initiates a Jump.” Not all of the stealthed Ravagers were as close as he’d wanted yet, but they were all within range of their assigned targets.

Grudfad repeated the orders via the embedded com system to the fleet’s Weapons officer. The reply from him was prompt. “Mine and missiles away.” Fifty stealthed missiles, armed only with some mysterious chip that potentially could disable the enemy ships were on their way. Ten of them had been redundantly sent against duplicate orbital targets, because their stealth would be lost if they entered atmosphere to go after the ten warships on the ground.

This way the Emperor’s Observer would confirm that fifty test missiles had been used, and there were fifty formerly Krall owned ships. Although, ten of them were down on the planet and thus not targeted. Mere moments later, dozens of fully armed missiles were launched at the same forty-one orbital targets. If the human ships were disabled and showed no activity after the first missiles reached them, the second salvo was unnecessary. They would destroy helpless ships and crews. No matter, for this attack all of the Federation ships in orbit were going to be destroyed, whether disabled or not. If they were helpless, then it bode well for future attacks using fewer missiles and causing less orbital debris.

“Signal the remainder of the fleet to Jump to the attack now. I want those ten warships and crews on the ground captured if possible, destroyed if not. The unarmed cargo ships are defenseless, so I also want them intact if possible.”

****

Gundarfem’s AI, Caroline, provided the first clues via its Comtap link. “Mam, I have detected encrypted radio transmissions close to Zanzibar, and there were multiple flickers of small visual reflections that disappeared from sensors, as if there was a brief loss of stealth from multiple locations of a small size.”

“Like weapon ports that opened and closed?”

“Possibly, Mam.”

She made an instant decision. “Caroline, micro-Jump five miles higher right now.” Even before the AI could initiate the Jump, she used a general link and warned every Kobani and Torki in the system of a hostile presence.

“All personnel, probable enemy craft. All ships micro-Jump, activate stealth and active scans. The AI detected radio signals and possible missile launches.” Her ship, Ricco’s Revenge, had the only AI system installed on any of the fifty warships at Zanzibar, and it was perpetually alert, of course. The Revenge completed its Jump within three seconds of the AI alert to the captain. Kobani thought processes were slower than an AI’s, but fortunately, they were still considerably faster than any organic minds yet encountered.

Caroline promptly furnished another warning. “More weapons ports were seen opened. Active scans have confirmed numerous stealthed missiles approaching from the rear of every Kobani ship. Should I engage lasers?”

“Yes. And start emergency heat for plasma cannons.” Still on the General link, she glanced at the sensor screen and gave another warning to every Kobani. “Missiles launched at us, all from our aft positions, and unlike ours, these are weakly stealthed missiles. Luckily, we can still see them. Jump or maneuver immediately.”

She switched to a ship link for her crew only. “I’m seeing fifty unknown ships in weak stealth mode. I’m about to fire missiles, so get clear of the launchers. Carline, fire lasers at any missiles that are closing on any of our ships.”

“Yes Mam, firing.”

Pavil Kamal was suddenly spotted flying over the Bridge railing, in a powerful but risky leap from the lower deck, eighteen feet below. Had the ship maneuvered sharply while he was airborne he could have been killed. It had taken him only four seconds since the warning to race up four decks. Macy merely pointed to his designated weapons station.

Thirty-seven ships made a successful micro-Jump before the first missile reached them. Three others reported they were actually struck, but for some reason the warheads failed to detonate. For some strange reason, there were an additional ten missiles fired from each of the ships of unknown type, even before the first single shots could reach any of their targets. It seemed strange that the large salvo came after what should have been perhaps a finale finishing shot. All of the enemy ships had arrived undetected in gamma rays, even though they were visible as ghost outlines when active scans were used.

Captain Gotin linked in by Olt to say the Blue Seas had been struck once, but as reported by the Kobani ships, the missile had not exploded. “I intend to leave the system.”

Gundarfem agreed. “Jump to safety Gotin.” A migration ship was too unwieldly to fight, and flight was its best defense. She grew to regret her words, but it was the reasonable action to take, and the Torki captain would have executed that Jump in any case. Regardless, stay or Jump, the ship was doomed.

There was a violet flash on the side of the huge ship, just as an event horizon started to form. The weakened ruptured hull started to crumple inward under the uneven gravitational stresses as the event horizon started to form, shrink, and then suddenly vanished. Immediately after that, a salvo of ten missiles hit the Blue Seas and it vanished in multiple intense flashes of silent lights, as the big ship blew apart. There was a momentary inarticulate link from Captain Gotin, which was cut off. The other fourteen Torki aboard never tried to link. They died with their ship, unable to reach escape pods in so short a time.

Gundarfem mentally processed a stream of incoming Comtap reports, even as she linked to Mirikami, reporting the attack. “Tet, Zanzibar is under attack. They snuck in on us and caught us unprepared without gammas on exit. We lost the Blue Seas to multiple hits. First missiles were all singles, but some made contact, but no explosions. Next salvos of ten per ship had real warheads. One other ship hit with plasma bolts but operational with minor damage. We’re in a pure defense mode now, and only our reaction speed saved our asses. We’re launching our missiles now against weakly stealthed targets. Plasma not hot yet, but lasers killing some of their missiles and hitting their ships.”

She could imagine his lip tug, despite the rapidity of his reply and the speed of Comtap mental links. “Macy, ask if your AI just detected a key disable code for humans. The first missiles sound like what we did at K1 to the Krall.”

A check by Caroline verified that an encrypted lock on a prisoner compartment had been altered to deny use by humans. No other encrypted key systems remained in use on the former Krall ships.

Gundarfem visually showed Tet what the sensors told her. “The fifty enemy ship outlines are not trapezoids, like Thandol warships. We just scored laser hits on two of them, but it’s an even match, fifty of them against us.” She hesitated a moment, then mentally shouted.

“Shit! Caroline says another four hundred fifty four enemy craft made silent entry above us. Two hundred are Thandol pyramid designs, but much smaller than a Crusher is. Two hundred fifty of ‘em look like the first fifty that attacked, about the same mass as ours. Our stealth seems better, since the missiles don’t follow us after we Jump or move away. We can’t protect the colony against this many.”

There was an instant of hesitation then she said, “Wow. Jenny Carver just blew up one of the Thandol ships. Great reaction. She Jumped right next to them and fired a missile into a side as soon as they appeared.”

She exchanged comments with Tet for a time, as she traded shots and missiles with the enemy, staying constantly on the move. “The AI just fired a plasma bolt that burned a big mark on the hull of one of the new type ships. Patil followed up with a missile. That one is gone. Oh…, and another one a quarter way around the planet just flared. Three for us, and only minor damage in return.”

Mirikami cautioned her. “Macy, at ten to one odds, that can’t last.” He was right faster than he expected.

Damn…,” Gundarfem shifted her attention to four ships of a smaller unique configuration from all the others, which suddenly left orbit and started down towards the planet.

She gave the Kobani down there the only help she could. A warning. “Ground side! Four enemy ships inbound, dividing up, one apparently headed for each colony town.”

The Kobani ships were dodging and twisting rapidly, because every time they fired lasers, plasma bolts, or missiles, the return fire was almost instant, and originated from multiple ships from any direction. Unlike the Krall, this enemy clearly coordinated their fire between ships, and energy beams might come from as many as ten ships, from varying distances. Whoever was flying these ships relied on computer speed for targeting and integrated fire control, and not manual targeting.

Nevertheless, the Kobani had now made six missile kills, and well over double that number in laser and plasma bolt damage to other ships, as the enemy’s degraded stealth revealed. That was versus eight of their own ships with minor to moderate energy beam damage, and one proximity detonation of a missile at the very start. The harder stealth coatings designed by the Torki and Raspani retained their stealth capability longer, but that was less vital if you were forced to fire constantly at the enemy, revealing your position before dodging or a micro-Jump away.

They now had two kills of the larger Thandol trapezoid designs, and four of the smaller and more aggressive angular blunt ships that took greater risks because of better maneuverability. The larger ships appeared to have the highest fire rates, but were the least maneuverable and tried to stay farther away. They were most effective when fighting from a distance, while the smaller craft, roughly the mass of clanships, was assumed to be from one of the three security force species, which most likely was the Ragnar.

The Kobani craft proved to be far more maneuverable than even the smaller class of ships the enemy flew, the crews accepting far greater uncompensated internal accelerations than the two enemy ship types could accept. It was obviously a major Kobani advantage if they could function well under considerably higher accelerations and turn rates than the occupants inside the enemy ships could.

Despite the edge in damage inflicted thus far, their being outnumbered ten to one didn’t bode well for an extended battle, or for an effective defense of the cities. The Kobani ships couldn’t take full advantage of the rapid micro-Jumps that worked so well against the Krall, because the gamma rays they emitted drew heavy computer coordinated fire at each exit. They needed the new White Out technology adapted, so they could make exits without giving their position away like a flashbulb in the dark.

Oddly, the enemy didn’t use the micro-Jump tactic when they could have gained a slight advantage by the tactic. Perhaps it was because they feared intersects with ships that their sensors couldn’t see, except when they fired weapons.

The Kobani had placed all their ships in constant spin, to spread the beam hits over their entire hulls. It complicated pilotage without an AI at the helm, of every ship but Ricco’s Revenge, but seat of the pants flying skills had been learned the hard way, by fighting the Krall. Mind Taps made every captain and pilot expert in its application, and that might be why they were better at micro-Jumps. The navigation system of the clanship had been designed with Krall manual control preferences in mind, and humans flew better than the Krall could. Kobani felt comfortable making micro-Jumps if they had accurate sensor data, and in emergencies, would take chances even if they didn’t have accurate data.

Trevon Caldwell debated launching Thresher and giving the other nine captains the option to join the fight in orbit, but he knew they’d become prime targets while rising through the atmosphere. He did have one tactic to use, what with their Normal Space drives available, and stealth systems that were proving to be better than what the enemy had. He issued his orders.

A few minutes later, he thought they were better prepared to protect the new colonists, who had minimal shelter. The best shelter available was reminiscent of the one used by the lone survivor from Elysium. The street drainage infrastructure had gone in before the streets themselves, and the five-foot diameter culverts were at least out of sight, with eight feet of soil over them. Dozens of Kobani stayed with colonists, as they helped them go down the opened storm drain covers, while other crewmates ran to the ships to reload missile racks, don body armor, and gather plasma and projectile rifles to distribute to the colonists. They all had heard the warning of inbound enemy ships. Those could be intent on targeting them with missiles and energy beams, but they might also land troops.

The Debilitater projectors weren’t given a great deal of thought by the Kobani, who anticipated that their ships, body armor, or soil overhead would shield them adequately. They were partly right, and mostly wrong.

****

Thond was enraged as he scream-shouted, “Which ship revealed our attack too soon? All of the enemy moved or Jumped at the same time.” That generalization overlooked the impossibility of it being a single ship commander’s mistake. How could one ship simultaneously alert all forty of the widely separated human ships, some of which were on opposite side of the planet. The incredible speed of Kobani reactions, and the unsuspected Comtap links conspired to lead him to blame his own people.

Then, as he analyzed the sequence of what had happened, he came close to making a fatal political blunder. His life and future was saved because the Emperor’s Observer, the only Thandol with the fleet, was not aboard his flagship to hear him.

“The insane decision of the Emperor and his High Command, to fire those useless single missiles without warheads, is what gave them warning.”

Later study would prove that particular explanation was inadequate as well, because only three of the test missiles actually made physical contact with any of the human ships before they Jumped, or before they had entered stealth and maneuvered out of the way. They did that using what had to be life threatening uncompensated internal acceleration, clearly under computer control, since no manual operation could be possible. Even if the first missiles were full salvos with warheads, he still would not have achieved the total surprise and mass destruction he’d anticipated.

In seconds, his fifty-ship vanguard was engaged in a desperate mad scramble; fighting for its own survival, much as if they had attacked a wild pack of dragnak’s in space, with the human ships the equivalent of the agile nasty fanged beasts, biting and clawing at their attackers. The only nonsurprise was the destruction of the slow giant ship, which they predictably blew apart when it was disabled from Jumping by the parasitic mine attached to its hull, and then destroyed by missiles. That was a task a huge Crusher, using Decoherence bombs, had failed to accomplish previously on the same type craft.

He was astounded when he first thought the human ships had fled without a shot, when they vanished from sensors, but a spatter of gamma ray bursts proved that many had only micro-Jumped, staying here to fight. Except, the burst of reentry radiation was the only sign of any of them. They were completely absent on sensor screens after that.

Absent until they fired on his ships, that is, a reaction they initiated almost instantly. He was sure that he had surprise on his side when he ordered the attack to start, but that elusive advantage lasted for less than a short breath.

The human ships didn’t focus much firepower on defending against the anti-ship missiles. Why should they? Those sophisticated missiles were effectively flying blind, and they could only threaten a human ship by accident. His own stealthed ships didn’t fare as well. Initially, only heavy laser beams hit the Ravagers as they closed in, at first suffering only superficial damage to their armored hulls. Unfortunately, they received spot damage to their stealth coating from the unusually powerful laser cannons. Then the humans started firing their own missiles, and after a preheat time, they had extremely potent plasma bolts available. The Olt’kitapi warship designs were proving to be very formidable, which lent credence to the untested reputation the Krall had earned in the Empire, using these same ships in their own wars.

Then, as his main battle fleet emerged, without the fanfare of gamma rays, the human ships immediately responded with missiles fired at them, proving their sensors saw the new arrivals, and that it wasn’t merely luck they had hit so many Ravagers at first. The stealth damage to the Ravager hulls had been nearly irrelevant,  so far as revealing them to an enemy that could already target them.

Contrary to what the Thandol High Commander had assured them, the human ships had better stealth, and their sensors could still see his stealthed fleet. The humans were fully aware they were heavily outnumbered now, but they stayed to fight anyway.

Thond had an uncomfortable thought. This species defeated the Krall juggernaut in twenty or so orbits, when they didn’t even have an army or navy at the start of the war.

They were also reported to have been somewhat technologically backwards, nevertheless, these humans had apparently improved on the original Olt’kitapi stealth and sensor design, which the Krall had found no need to change for twenty thousand years. He failed to consider that Krall slave races might have aided the humans. The subservient races in the Empire would not have helped the Thandol, or any of the three security species.

Both sides had ship hulls with a quantum controlled reflective surface, or used it as a radiation absorbing material when needed, which was the stealth coating technology the Empire had adapted after analyzing what the Olt’kitapi possessed. The Thandol had not encountered another high tech species like the Olt’kitapi since then, to spur stealth improvements. Until now.

This species also fought like deranged demons, taking high risks despite their stealth, which could keep them safe if they simply held their fire. The subjugated races the Ragnar normally fought were considerably more conservative and less aggressive.

When the first of his ships lost was a Thandol built Smasher, one like the flagship the Thandol had assigned to the Force Commander. He was angry that humans had made a kill of their own, as a sort of trade for the large ship they had lost. However, he felt a slight trace of pride that none of the more numerous and aggressively engaged Ragnar designed cruisers had met that fate.

His pride was short lived, when two Ravagers soon added to the spreading Smasher debris field. Every crewmember he lost was Ragnar, so in an ambush that his own forces sprang, the human victims had scored three kills, and as far as he could detect, the enemy had suffered no losses.

It grew unbearably worse as he lost another Smasher, shortly followed by two more Ravagers. The only visible damage to the impossibly agile and speedy human ships was damage to a few stealth coatings, as revealed by his sensors. Although, his crews were finally starting to improve targeting on the elusive foe, as their attack and escape patterns became clearer.

His fire control divisions were relying less on an AI to predict where the highly variable enemy would be when they made a firing pass, and more importantly, on which way and how fast they would dodge after firing. The AIs repeatedly made estimates based on performance parameters of Ragnar and Thandol ships, which couldn’t match what these ships did.

Despite this, he accurately deduced that his ten-to-one ship advantage would eventually take a serious toll on the human ships. Except, he wanted human suffering and losses to start now. He thumped his knuckles against his chest in anger.

“Grudfad, send down the Stranglers, with two Ravagers as escorts for each. Those riot control ships are poorly designed for this sort of space battle. Tell their commanders that if any of the grounded human ships lift or fire on them, I have canceled my instructions to try to capture them. They may destroy them all where they sit. We don’t need any more of them up here in orbit. Their stealth can’t hide them in atmosphere if they try to escape. Order the Stranglers to pass low over the cities. I want their people squirming in pain, or even dead if they can get low enough.”

The Stranglers were another Thandol ship design, and it was roughly the same tonnage as a Ravager, but they were a truncated pyramid shape, flat on the top. It was equipped with considerably more weaponry than just the Debilitater projector, mounted in a rotating blister on the underside. It was heavily armed with laser and plasma bolt defenses, with air to air and air to ground missiles. That made for safer low passes over hostile cities, as it irradiated rebellious populations into agonized compliance.

As Thond watched the Stranglers and their escorts separate and enter atmosphere, he had the satisfaction of seeing a rash enemy ship enter the tenuous upper wisps, attempting to divert one of the impending ground attacks. Their superb stealth couldn’t prevent the faint trail of ions their passage caused, and multiple energy beams converged on its position. The flare of white quickly turned orange and black as the ship exploded.

Grudfad, also watching, remarked in surprise, “They carry actual reaction mass for thrusters! Their maneuverability and acceleration tell us their inertial drives and internal compensation is already better than what our cruisers have. Why would they need reaction thrusters at all?”

The Ravagers, as dedicated space combat craft, didn’t employ reaction thrusters, and landed on planets with tachyons held within three redundant trap fields, for reliable Normal Space drive use when they were unable to establish new Trap fields when within gravity wells.

Having participated in strategy sessions, forming contingency plans if the Krall had ever entered Empire space, Thond knew the answer. “These former Krall ships are multipurpose. They also served as landing craft, to deliver large numbers of warriors to the surface of a world they would raid or invade. We design special purpose ships, such as our Ravagers for space combat, and Pounders for landing troops and heavy equipment.

Even the Thandol do this. The Stranglers they designed are not ground assault craft, but they do have reaction thrusters as backup, should they lose tachyon power while in atmosphere, from damaged suffered to their Trap field generators. They can land using them if they must, but of course would attempt to return to orbit if possible.”

“Force Commander, we land our own troops from Ravagers after a suppression raid, to complete the punishment. We intend to do so today.” He made certain to say this in a tone that sought enlightenment, rather than appearing to contradict his superior.

“Yes, Lieutenant, but that landing always comes after the opposition species has been quelled by Strangler Debilitater runs and our bombardment from orbit. Ravagers do not normally fight their way down to the ground, giving up their stealth while they do that. A Ravager has limited internal space for many ground troops, and we did not bring an invasion force. We would use Pounder transports for major landings, after first establishing a safe base of operations for them. The Krall obviously provided their masters with the design features they wanted for their ships, combining a combat capability in space, with that of a ground assault landing craft.”

Then he added a bit of Imperial blasphemy for his trusted second in command. “Listening to us is something the Thandol never do when we offer suggestions for improving their ship designs, which they insist we use. That’s why I held the Smashers back from close combat, while our smaller Ravagers do the real work. The loss ratio for their more clumsy ships would be unacceptable to the Emperor’s Observer and to me for that matter, since our crews are aboard. If I had sent the Smashers in for close space combat today, we would have lost many more. We lost two of them as it is, and they were not in the thick of the battle.”

Just then, his combat division forwarded a surprising report from one Strangler group. The one that was assigned to the newest colony town, where twenty human ships had been on the ground since the start of the attack.

The Strangler commander wanted guidance. “Force Commander, the ten Federation warships are gone. Only the ten supply ships are still in the landing area. Has their departure gone unnoticed? We came around the curve of the planet, and our scans did not find them, but they do have excellent stealth. My escorts and I were prepared to launch missiles at them, but the greatest threats have vanished. Does our mission proceed?”

Thond had advice ready, seeing the Ragnar’s name on his communications panel. “Commander Vastol, I think they have activated stealth while sitting in place, because they are aware a liftoff to orbit would reveal them. You have recordings of their positions, so you will fire a ground attack missile at each of the ten coordinates of where they were previously parked, and the two Ravagers will each fire a anti-ship missile at each of the same coordinates. If they are secretly sitting there, they will either die or reveal themselves with defensive fire, and then die in the heavy salvos that will follow. I will assign Smashers to fire from orbit in your support if they return fire.” He heard his Lieutenant efficiently doing just that, as Vastol acknowledged his orders.

From his large command screen, Thond called up smaller versions of the fire control screens of that Strangler. Their missiles were away, and the ten from the Strangler were ground attack missiles, which fed back visual feeds of their target areas.

The twenty anti-ship missiles from the two Ravagers were hypersonic, without cameras, and they reached their targeted coordinates ahead of the heavy and slower ground attack missiles. Even so, the impacts happened quickly, but it was obvious from even the small visual images that the first pairs of missiles struck empty surfaces and exploded, as the ten visual feeds suddenly filled with the dirt and debris as the cameras flew into the dusty points of impact and detonated. There was no defensive fire, and no exploding ships either. Slower playback of individual camera feeds confirmed that only the landing jack impressions in the dirt were there when the first missiles struck.

As a side note, Thond also didn’t see the throngs of civilians working on the basic infrastructure for the new colony, which their scouts had observed earlier today. Other than temporary tents, there was nowhere close for them to hide. Only a few buildings had sides as of yet and just one had a roof. It couldn’t hide more than a handful of this species.

They had chosen a large island for this new colony, with wide grass plains at the end where they had landed, suitable for agriculture. There were numerous streams flowing from higher terrain to their west, and one large one passed close to the new town, flowing towards a sediment rich delta fan, and a brown stained deep blue sea beyond that. There were islands of wide crowned trees dotting the grasslands, but none of them was close enough or large enough to have swallowed thousands of those bipedal aliens. The land had the appearance of rich agricultural soil, with a nearby ocean full of sea life to harvest. Thond had seen terrain like this on many worlds. His own included. Exactly where had these Glack-droppings people gone?

He briefly wondered if humans had personal camouflage ability, and were hiding in plain sight, as some small reptiles that lived on many planets did to conceal their presence. Of course, their IR scans would still see them, so the best answer was they had hidden in the missing ships, and possibly some were inside the ten freighters still seen on the ground. He ordered one of the unarmed freighters destroyed.

The Strangler and its two escorts were hovering on normal Space drives, staying clear of the new colony site, which seemed too quiet, too much like a defenseless and inviting trap. Besides, where was the city they were supposed to destroy, the population they were supposed to leave writhing painfully in the dirt, most of them dying and left as an example?

Fortune was with the Stranglers at the other three colony towns. The populations were trying to hide in their completed buildings, but they had no defenders that were not in orbit. In those towns the Debilitaters would cause the deaths and pain Thond needed to cause on this Federation planet, and in truth, what he liked doing to any species that he felt should be paying homage to the Ragnar anyway.

One of the freighters exploded, at the end of the hypersonic missile trail that led to it from a Ravager. Like insects from disturbed nests, humans were seen running from the other ships, not many, only about the number expected for their crews. Except for one ship that apparently had elected to try to lift off. It had just ignited conventional reaction thrusters, but needed to warm the engines a moment and had not throttled up to start rising. Thond was about to specifically order it destroyed, although his standing order called for that action anyway, if one of the ships tried to flee. Instead, he encountered a distraction.

Suddenly, both Ravager escorts fell under extremely heavy attack from orbit, with lasers and plasma bolts hitting them both repeatedly, as they started accelerating and twisting to try to avoid the hits. The attackers, in orbit of course, were themselves subject to attacks from the Empire fleet elements there, but they were rapidly micro-Jumping, alternating with other human ships to maintain a steady onslaught on the two Ravagers. There were at least six ships doing this, with others of the thirty-nine aloft furiously attacking the nearest enemy ships, forcing them into a defensive posture.

With attention focused on this drama and the freighter, which had started to lift, apparently no one noticed something that happened near the surface, but away from the new town. In seconds thirty missiles total were launched, apparently from ten separate points, fired from nearly ground level, and not from orbit as might be expected.

The two Ravagers, already desperately preoccupied with escaping the punishing bolts and beams from above, were initially unaware of the incoming anti-ship missiles until they were too close for them to knock all of them out of the air. They died in two billowing balls of flickering actinic light, as at least five missiles made it through each of their defenses.

The Strangler, not under attack from space prior to the missile assault, fared better. But it wasn’t left unscathed. The larger Thandol ship was specifically designed to ward off low altitude attacks, primarily by defenders in cities that it planned to irradiate. It managed to defend itself well from all ten of the missiles that had come directly at it, from a place that was beyond the colony site, giving the ship forty miles of distance as a buffer, because it had lagged slightly behind the Ravagers.

What it didn’t have, was enough time to react to both smart missiles that originally were directed at the now destroyed Ravagers, particularly the one closest to the Strangler. That missile’s AI recognized that its primary target was already destroyed, and selected the next closest alternate. Surviving the passage through twisting debris from the explosion, it emerged on the other side of the fireball only two miles from the Strangler, already at hypersonic velocity. The Strangler fired on the farther missile, seeing it sooner and knocking it out. Not the closest one, however, from the nearer fireball.

That one slammed into an armored side, penetrating deeper than the Thandol had designed for, and then it exploded. The Jump drive was instantly disabled, which fed power from any of three tachyon traps to the reactionless Normal Space drive. It abruptly lost lift and inertial drive thrust.

The Strangler’s AI automatically initiated the reaction thruster system, even as the big unwieldy craft listed with its nose dipping down. It was as aerodynamic as a bluntly pointed brick, relying on immense tachyon power to negate its inertia, and the planet’s gravitational pull. It took a moment for the thrusters under its belly to counter the brief fall that had started, and then to raise the forward pointing nose as it resumed its inexorable course towards a town it had no idea was called New Mombasa.

Commander Vastol doggedly intended to complete his mission, and he ordered the Debilitater projector switched on, generating a cone of oddly modulated, nerve shattering, jittering electromagnetic radiation, which preceded it by as much as thirty miles.

Thond, his mouth open and his canines exposed by lips pulling back as he roared his displeasure, watched the fragments of the two Ravagers plummet onto the grasslands in large flaming sections. He had no idea where the missiles came from. The computer backtrack showed they appeared to come from beyond the largely undeveloped town, but all that was visible in that direction were grasslands and a wide river. He had a guess however. He shared it with Grudfad.

“I think the ten vanished warships are sitting in grasslands on the other side of the river, with their stealth active. They fired thirty missiles, clusters of three each based on the divergence from roughly where they originated. They did that while we were watching the dance the orbital attackers made the two Ravagers perform while under attack from above. We focused our sensors on where the orbital attacks originated and on the freighter’s departure, while the real attack came from somewhere on the surface.”

“How do we get them to reveal themselves, Force Commander?”

“Fire on the freighter with low powered lasers. That will take longer to destroy them, and it may encourage the warships to act foolishly to protect the unarmed ship.”

****

“Trevon, that would be a foolish risk to take and you can’t save them anyway.” Mirikami was backing up Gundarfem’s orders, that all ten Kobani ships should remain hidden for now.

“You had a smart idea son, and it’s still a good one. Your lifting alone would reveal not only where you’ve been, but also give away the other ship’s locations. Unless it’s to defend yourselves or the colonists from direct attack, I think you need to remain concealed.”

Caldwell had proposed to launch on his own, to draw fire away from the Rim World freighter, at least until it could climb high enough to trap a tachyon and Jump.

“But Tet, they aren’t simply taking them out. They’re using low power lasers on that thinner hull, roasting the poor bastards. They’re begging for help.”

“So the Empire’s no better than the Krall. Does that surprise you? This is clearly a ploy to get you and your ships to reveal yourselves, because you represent a threat. Your plan already cost them two more ships and a serious hit on that odd flat triangle craft. You advised the freighter crews to join the evacuation into the storm drains. They refused, and now those that fled their ships will reveal where the colonists are hiding, by running right to them where the enemy can see them. You might be needed when that beam ship arrives, if that ray is actually life threateningly dangerous.”

“OK.” There was reluctant resignation in Caldwell’s Comtap thoughts.

Gundarfem warned the Kobani below ground that the enemy ship was now within thirty miles, which was the beam’s claimed maximum range. The fleeing freighter crews were still above ground, running for shelter at the closest storm drain opening to them. There were close to seventy of them, when suddenly they began to stagger and run erratically, slapping at exposed skin and their own faces. Several stumbled and fell, fighting to get up again.

Kasiem Palliser was the Kobani waiting below that nearest storm drain grate to the landing field, when he reported hearing sounds of screaming. “The beam must be hitting them. Good Lord, the screams are horrible. I’m going up to help them reach this drain cover. They sound close.”

Confident of his strength and speed, he didn’t wait for confirmation, and was fully prepared to endure the same pain he heard in the voices he wanted to help. He made a graceful and powerful leap through the center of the meter wide opening, soaring ten feet high, and started a tuck and flip so he could hit the ground running.

What he did, was hit the ground face first, screaming horribly, and writhing in violent twisting contorted motions, as agonizing waves of pain and imaginary flame coursed through every nerve in his body. He felt like his brain was literally about to burst into flame. His uncontrolled limb and torso twitches flipped him repeatedly into the air, and his screams were the agony of someone being skinned alive with red-hot knives, while Koban kants stung him over every square millimeter of flayed and exposed tissue.

His involuntary Comtap screams, for the unfortunate Kobani with whom he’d been linked, were the rawest emotions and transmission of pain they had ever experienced. They instantly shut down their Comtap link with him simply to escape sharing the impossible to block level of his pain. His screams mercifully ended after about fifteen seconds. A lone colonist risked raising his eyes over the rim of the opening, and she told the other Kobani nearby in the culvert, that his body was still twitching and flipping into the air from powerful muscle spasms.

That colonist peeping over the rim instantly felt a tingle and burning on her exposed skin, but her long hair shielded the back of her head some. She claimed the sensation was painful and burned, and her facial muscles had started to twitch. However, it wasn’t as intolerable for her, as it had been for Kasiem, at least at the present intensity of the radiation. She saw some of the freighter crewmembers shuffling or crawling towards her, even as they screamed and called for help and twitched. Those below ground assisted the first dozen of the freighter crews to reach the opening, pulling them in by their jerking arms or legs.

Even when out of the direct radiation, the only thing that faded for those that had been exposed was the twitches and spasms. The pain and burning continued unabated, and they couldn’t stand being touched. Most tore off their clothing, and chose to try to stand, if they could, to reduce skin contact with any surface or substance. Yet, the skin of their fully exposed bodies didn’t even look red under artificial lights, which a few people had brought with them.

After that however, the beam intensity grew so great that those unfortunate enough to still be above ground, were no longer capable of any coordinated or controlled movements. Their voices became so ragged from hoarse screams that the sounds were diminishing. They continued to twitch even after they appeared to lose consciousness. When the Strangler was only several miles away, the force of their muscle spasms, for those that had not torn their muscle attachments from ligaments and bones, was so violent that they sometimes snapped an arm or dislocated a joint.

This was observed from orbit with horror and revulsion, and the torture was repeated at every colony town, although the ship at New Mombasa was flying lower. For the Kobani, their attention was largely focused on how their own people had unexpectedly been the most adversely effected.

The mental contacts were terrible for those not directly in the radiation, but nothing compared to what Kasiem had felt, or those below ground were starting to feel. Kasiem’s presumably dead body was still jerking violently, his bones were too tough to break, but some joints appeared dislocated, from the odd angles of limbs.

The Kobani below ground had been forced to pull as far back as possible from the storm drains. Those openings leaked the destructive nerve scrambling radiation, and they had scrambled over anyone they needed to knock out of their way to do so. As the Debilitater projector passed over New Mombasa at roughly a mile height, everyone gave each Kobani ample room, more for their own self-preservation than an act of kindness, to avoid the life threatening uncontrolled powerful spasms.

The colonists themselves were mildly affected eight feet below ground, but the Kobani were completely incapacitated. The fully exposed Normals from the freight crews also appeared to be dead, receiving the full force of the radiation. Due to their constant movements, it was difficult to be certain. Their movements were reminiscent of salted frog legs frying in a skillet. Uncontrolled spasms of dead muscles twitching, as nerves fired randomly.

Once the Debilitater carrying ship was well past the town limits, it crossed the river and descended to half its previous altitude. Then it slowly started turning back for another pass. The enemy wasn’t going to be content with merely punishing on this raid; they wanted everyone dead, at least at this site, suffering as much pain as possible in the process. They were not making a second pass like this at the other three towns.

Gundarfem cut Caudwell loose. “Trevon, this isn’t a hit and run, not at your site anyway. I don't think they intend to leave anyone at your site alive, because that’s where our ships were spotted on the ground. If all of you agree to do it, kill that son of a bitch and make a run for orbit. We definitely underestimated that frigging super Jazzer. We’ll do our best to cover you as you climb.”

“Thanks Macy. What about our people in the culverts?”

Mirikami stepped in to absolve Macy from the responsibility that he was certain she was prepared to accept. “Trevon, they’ll have to accept the same fate that awaits the other colonists today. If they can hold out for a half-day longer, we’ll have another four hundred ships at Zanzibar, pulled from guarding our other colonies that are close enough to help. If that ship and the other three Debilitater projectors are taken out, the survival rate for thousands of colonists will go up, I’m certain.

“At least a thousand additional ships are enroute from all around the Federation, but most of us won’t be there for a bit over a full day. I’m with them, and we left an hour ago. Good luck son. You, Macy, and all the rest of you there; Stay alive and give them hell.”

****

Thond was finally feeling he was gaining the upper hand with this raid. The four colony settlements were effectively subdued, if not destroyed yet, although he continued to lose ships. Twelve of them now, versus only four of the hard to hit Federation ships. His losses included four of the escorts he sent down with the Stranglers. He knew he couldn’t risk troop landings as long as he didn’t have complete control of the space above the planet. The humans could pick off his ground forces from space or even their Ravagers when they were unable to maneuver fast or Jump. He was forced to keep fifty of his ships near the Smasher that carried the Emperor’s Observer, to ensure he stayed safe. His loss would be impossible to explain.

From the pass of the Strangler over the newest colony town, he now had detailed images of the area where the human warships had been, and of the layout of the town that they had started building. There still was no sign of those ten ships, and they wisely had made no move to save the hapless cargo hauler. The low power lasers had managed to fry that crew alive before they were high enough to trap tachyons, or perhaps they had elected to commit suicide. The ship had suddenly nosed over to fall back and crash, but due to drift, it fell into the sea rather that where it had departed. The other eight supply ships were empty now, most of their crews visibly dead near the edge of the dirt landing area, having fallen there after they fled.

One of his image analysts promptly contacted him with information he had requested, even as the Strangler finished its pass. Where had the newest colony’s population gone? They hadn’t had time to board the missing ships. His analysts found traces of dirt and damaged grass that ran parallel to the freshly formed streets, which suggested that something was buried. They may have gone underground, and if so, they may have had enough soil overhead to shield them from effects of the radiation.

He also had remembered the deep depressions in the dirt of the landing area, from the support jacks of the human warships. He had asked for a search for those same shaped depressions in the grasslands, along the back track of those thirty missiles. He had ordered the Strangler to be prepared to launch a heavy volley of air to ground missiles if they were located, and to have their own defenses ready. Alas, there was nothing the detailed computer pattern search had found in the tall grasses to match that pattern of depressions.

He ordered the Strangler to make an even lower and slower pass over that skeleton of a town, to increase the depth of radiation penetration. He wanted everyone dead at that site, like vermin trapped in their underground warrens.

There proved to be an interesting byproduct from that decision. It helped him answer his most pressing question: Where were those ten damned enemy ships?

With beam width narrowed, the jumble of radiation frequencies and intricate modulation patterns, which were used to induce currents in living nerves, was considerably more intense the closer the projector came to the target. Operators of the devices had noted an entertaining aspect of the radiation, which was effective over a wide range of living creatures. Applied to water, it triggered wild frenzies in aquatic lifeforms, causing spectacular frothy activity at the surface of the water, particularly with more conductive salt waters. The effect was slightly less in fresh water, but to a bored operator, like the operator today who had seen only a mere handful of writhing victims, any mass reaction was better than no reaction.

The Ragnar operator swiveled the projector, and directed it down at the terrain the ship was about to traverse. They were going to cross a wide river, not far from the nearly empty looking town, which had been disappointingly devoid of the mass of victims he often beamed. He liked to watch them flip and flop around in waves, as he passed an invisible narrow beam over massed bodies. Today, the river at least would give him a visual image of the beam’s effects, of where it was pointed if tightly focused, observable by the fish and water animals it affected.

Because the nerve effects lingered well after the focal point passed, activity at the water’s surface would last for a time. Besides, the town would show even less activity this time, because the surviving residents were reported to be hiding below ground. It would be no fun to watch at all when they reacted to his beam.

Over water, Hagathon often tried to spell his name in the script of the Ragnar language. To see if he could finish it before the watery froth, a tracing of aquatic life in agony, would subside on the first character written before he finished the last character. It was more difficult to accomplish in less conductive fresh water. If he succeeded today, he would take a picture to present to the other operators, as evidence of his skill, precision, and speed of directing the tight beam.

Using a pointed nail tip on one finger, he started tracing on the touch sensitive screen, which displayed the video image of the brown waters of the river. It was good his commander had been ordered to make a slow pass, giving Hagathon more time than on previous failed freshwater attempts. The lag time from beam passage to froth appearing, meant he had to concentrate on his fingernail and the screen’s surface to write legibly, and not on the image formed from froth and squirming life, which formed only after the beam had passed.

He had just finished tracing a character in the middle of his name, vaguely aware of the background of foaming waters he’d already passed over, when he found he was unable to ignore a large bulge of water lifting at the center of the river. Multiple bulges of water, in fact. This ruined his name writing effort, but offered him the thrill of watching some large unknown animals reacting to the ray. He’d, on rare occasions, watched videos of giant whale-like animals leaping an unbelievable height from an ocean, twisting in the air as creatures of that mass would be unable to do if they were not in great pain. He was about to see more than one, as he realized there were six rising water mounds on his screen, and one more was forming off the edge of his screen, suggesting there were even more of them. This could be spectacular. He was recording of course.

Instead of massive snouts appearing as the water mounds thinned and parted at the top, the water cascaded down to the sides revealing a wide hole into the depths of the brown river water, with the hole growing wider at the surface. All of the holes in the river that he could see were widening. No animals this large, or that closely packed, should be able to feed in a mere river, and they were apparently translucent, like giant jellyfish.

Then suddenly, identifiable spots appeared above the holes, and he instantly knew that translucent was the wrong word, as was jellyfish. These non-creatures were invisible, as in stealthed, and recognizing opened weapons ports, he knew he was about to die.

Dozens of ravening high power lasers tore into the armored belly of the Strangler passing overhead, accompanied by multiple star hot heavy plasma bolts, which at this close range punched right through the armor, making openings that the promptly redirected lasers exploited, to blast into the interior of the ship.

He knew he only had moments to live, but he used his skill as a beam writer to punctuate his final work.

Quickly dragging his nail tip, he directed the beam to the nearest hole in the water, tightened the focus more, and aimed the energy through an open weapons port of one plasma cannon, close to where he assumed the Bridge might be located. He didn’t live to see the results of his effort, when a laser found and cut the fuel line for the forward main reaction thruster. There was a jarring explosion and sudden attitude change as the nose dropped. Then the leading rounded tip of the flattened pyramid buried itself deep into the riverbank after a terrifying and stomach turning half a mile drop, with the mass of the ship crumpling in behind the tip. The ship abruptly erupted in a massive explosion as the main fusion generator’s magnetic containment field failed; releasing a cauterizing amount of plasma to the wound delivered to the planet.

****

“Falgrat!” Thond’s obscenity was less shocking than the loss of that Strangler, when the ten missing human warship rose out of the river, almost directly below the doomed ship.

Commander Vastol had scans active, watching for missiles that might be launched at them from their three sides, with his own anti-missiles already sitting in launch tubes, defensive lasers and plasma cannons armed. Except, they expected that if an attack came, it would come from somewhere in the grasslands, probably when they reached the unfinished town they were again approaching.

Of the ten human warships, nine of them continued to accelerate upward at a rate that burned off the stealth coating on the noses of the ships, as they screamed through the atmosphere at accelerations that Force Commander Thond believed should have killed their crews. This was accompanied by a simultaneous renewal of maximum effort attacks by every surviving human ship in orbit, and most of them happened to be near his flagship, because he was poised above the location where the Strangler had just died, watching. His ship took multiple penetrating hits from plasma bolts and searing burns from laser cannons, with nearly every hit taking out one of his ships weapons, or welding a port cover closed. He could see the weapon’s director status panel, with winks of lights changing colors as they lost their guns in one full sector, the one at the base of the Smasher, which could bear on the ships climbing from the planet. And, not so coincidentally, those same lost guns could no longer bear on the ships that had performed White Outs, which were doing the shooting from below them at extreme close range.

He noted that they were focusing fire on all of the Smashers in this limited area, firing from below. They were protecting their comrades from the most potent long rage threats, represented by the better firing platforms of the Thandol ship design. Only with horror, he realized one of them was the ship bearing the Emperor’s Observer, and named the Empire’s Demand. He couldn’t release the Observer’s protective fifty Ravagers to dive down at the vulnerable nine human ships rising towards them, without risking the one ship of the fleet that he couldn’t risk.

One human ship had come in so close to that vital Smasher, on a micro-Jump, that proximity collision alarms had sounded, triggering internal airtight door to shut, and weapons ports to close, to preserve hull integrity and slow loss of atmosphere if bulkheads ruptured.

The Emperor’s Observer was in a ship that now was not fighting back against its closest threat, and the Ravagers couldn’t blow the human ship apart with missiles without risking what they were there to protect. How did these falgrat’s from some alien hell know that this particular ship was so vital? That the Thandol built in those foolish proximity systems on all of their ships that shut weapon ports.

He smacked his chest in fury as it struck him. Of course, fifty Ravagers were somewhere near it at all times. He’d though he’d made it less obvious, by holding most of them well out away from it, and shifting their positions constantly. The enemy had clearly noticed anyway. He was on the verge of ordering that ship’s commander to execute a dangerous Jump while another ship was so close, when the enemy solved the problem for him. That ship, and all of the other human ships Jumped instead.

He nearly strangled on his rage and fear, when he instantly realized that this enemy ship did not have the technology to prevent gamma ray bursts, and thus did not have the thousands of small Trap antennas embedded in its hull, which the Thandol used to create a nearly form fitting event horizon. That enemy had just departed, taking with it a deep circular cut out of the center of the bottom of the Empire’s Demand, and it was now spewing atmosphere and bodies from opened compartments that had just been sheared open to space. He only prayed that the Observer, who normally would sit on the centrally located Bridge, didn’t go with them.

He called the ship’s commander rather than the Observer, to test the waters first.

“Commander Trafta, what do you need?”

“A new Ragnar built ship would be nice, Force Commander.”

Thond was instantly relieved, to a limited extent. There was no way Trafta would have been so light in his response if anything had happened to the Observer. “Are you able to navigate? Not jump of course.”

“We actually still have a tachyon in our upper Trap. We can move, but without triple redundancy. The Emperor’s Observer is isolated behind an airtight door for now, but I doubt he knows that. He was having a snack in the Bridge dining hall, because the battle was growing tedious for him. From my aides with him, he seems unaware of what happened. If we assign him another Smasher, and can get him transferred to it carefully, he won’t know.

He gets lost on this one, and always forgets its name. Send another Smasher to dock with us and we can extricate him by opening corridors to an airlock. This Court politician has never been on a warship, other than a Crusher with the Emperor’s Court of course.”

“If so, and you exchange the two crews, he may not notice.”

“Just the Bridge crew and his personal cabin attendants. All Ragnar look alike to him. We lost an estimated fifteen crew when those stinking human-droppings Jumped.” Trafta had apparently conjured up a new swear word. Thond liked the sound.

“I’ll select the ship.”

Now with his career saved, not to mention his life, he turned to his Force Lieutenant, who he’d hand signaled quietly to take over the ship’s operation while he checked on the Observer. He realized that he didn’t even know the Thandol’s full name. It would end with Farlol of course. He was related to the Emperor he supposed. He didn't notice a resemblance, but all Thandol looked alike to him anyway.

“Grudfad, I’m sure you heard that we are switching the Observer to another ship. What happened while I was saving our Annexation mission from being given to the Finth?” Their rivals had argued hard for getting the Ragnar’s present mission.

“We killed one of the climbing human ships before they were high enough to Jump. I think they had their ships set on automatic and launched empty, or else they were already dead. Our medical division doesn’t think the human physiology can stand what we can tolerate for acceleration. Those ships climbed at a rate that burned off their stealth coating, and would have crushed their internal organs. They cleared atmosphere far too quickly to have anyone aboard still alive. They lost another of the ten, apparently by some action by the Strangler, right at the start. We didn’t see them do anything to it, but one of their ships simply stopped rising and fell back into the stream on its side.”

“Did they lose any others?”

“No. Only…,” he hesitated.

“What?”

“We lost three more Ravagers, two Smashers, and all four of the Stranglers.”

“Falgrat sucking human-droppings!” The new swear word helped.

He had lost twenty-one warships, to eleven Federation craft, but only eight of theirs were even warships.

“Where are they now?”

“They all Jumped the same instant as those ships lifting from the planet. We have not received their gamma rays yet, so they may have left the system.”

“I would not gamble on that, and risk landing our troops to destroy their pitiful little colony towns. We killed many of their civilians. They may give up this world for colonization. We have to find their more populated worlds, and bring a truly large fleet with us, and plan to stay. Then we will see how well they fight.”

The Lieutenant thought the enemy had done well already. They had fought their way out of an ambush for certain, but didn’t say that. “They coordinate extremely well and navigate precisely, Force Commander. Every one of their ships Jumped almost suicidally close to our Smashers on that last action, and all at the same instant. Very much like the Krall are said to do, or rather were said to do. These humans are very dangerous in a fight. They were outnumbered ten to one and we lost ships two to one.”

“Worse.” Thond admitted reluctantly. “Closer to three to one for ships in their favor. The crab ship and the two unarmed freighters were never threats and had no defenses.”

He thought of ways to make the best of this battle.

“If we get close up pictures of the dead bodies, and bombard their other more built up settlements, we can make it appear the damage here was great. The Emperor’s Observer wasn’t very observant.”

Whatever else they intended to do at Zanzibar Redoux, a planet who’s name they still didn’t know, was deferred to a later, greater invasion in the future. The commander of the sensor division linked to them both, via their embedded com systems.

“Force Commander, forgive the interruption, I have urgent tachyon monitor information of possible enemy reinforcements to report.”

“How far away, and how many?”

“These are all in third level travel, and detected in four sizable groups from four directions. The groups are so tightly bunched we cannot separate them into individual ships. Although, the mass of each group is significantly less than our combined mass. There are four of those equal masses. If they consist of more of the same type ships we fought here today, their numbers will nearly equal ours.”

“I asked also for distance, or arrival time, if you can deduce that.”

“Their times will be somewhat staggered. Two groups are closer. If they are the size of those we fought today, about the size of Ravagers, they are fast, and will be here in a tenth rotation. The other two groups are less than another tenth rotation behind.

That time was based on Ragnar time units, but it was less than the length of time of the battle they had just fought. Thond was in no position to engage that many fresh enemy ships at this time. He needed to analyze this fight, and learn how to make the Stranglers more survivable. The Debilitater’s had proven effective on humans, but not if you lost the ships that carried them.

“Force Lieutenant, recall all of our ships. If any others are like the damaged Smasher, they will need to be towed back for repair. Prepare to Jump to the Empire ship repair yard at Meglor system. Were there any survivors of the ships lost on the planet?” He knew that any in space would already have been retrieved.

“No Force Commander, those ships were lost at altitudes too high, and no escape pods were detected.”

“If there are any intact ship sections on the planet or in orbit, I want them obliterated with missiles. Try not to leave any equipment the enemy can study for information about us. I wish I could recover the ship of theirs that fell into the river.”

In an hour, the Ragnar fleet was gone.

No sooner than the enemy fleet Jumped, a stealthed Kobani ship uncloaked, and informed the other ships. Immediately, the forty-one remaining ships did White Outs from their ghosting positions in Tachyon Space to join them.

Gundarfem, who had been in Comtap link with the inbound four hundred ships, now second-guessed her decision to have appeared to flee the system.

“We hurt them, and killed those damn ships with the super Jazzers. When I had us pretend to turn tail and run, I wanted them to lick their wounds and still be here when our fresh help arrived. I wanted the bastards really hurt, but those of us in orbit were out of missiles, and couldn’t do that safely. I know you eight ships that made it off planet had half of your original loads left, but by the time we could have transferred them in space to the rest of us, the cavalry would be here anyway. Trevor, none of your eight ships are fit to go into combat, not with your stealth gone. That was our biggest advantage over them today. Aside from our speed and dogfight skills.”

Trevor said, “We exposed ourselves to stop that second pass over New Mombasa, but I want to go down now and recover our people, if they survived, and see if we have anyone alive in the Dauntless. I don't know why they fell back into the river. Their Comtaps still don’t respond to us. They may not be dead, however. We think most of the colonists in the culverts are alive, since they have a few com sets, but they’re isolated from different groups in the storm drains that aren’t connected. They won’t go above ground until they know the empire isn’t coming back.”

“Trevor, I admire your willingness to go back down there after escaping by the skin of your teeth. That was a hell of a trip up here for all of you. I’m willing to stay up here with others, to fly cover if anyone is willing to land. Just give me some of your damn missiles. I don’t want to risk another intersect to get so close they can’t shoot my ass off.”

“Speaking of your ass Macy, have you picked the pieces of that Thandol ship out of your butt yet? What about the two prisoners your crew pulled alive from the airtight compartments, which sheared off with you when you Jumped away?”

“I had to smack them around a bit to Mind Tap them. They didn’t think a small person like me should be trying to push them around. The big apes. What is about large bullies anyway and smaller people? They just naturally want to lord it over you. The Ragnar do seem to have more complex and normal thoughts than a Krall has. At least thoughts more complex than; I want to kill you for status points, or I’ll cut off pieces while you watch. They seem a bit smarter too.

“Assuming those two low ranking crew…” She paused. “Crew what? Not crewmen. Crew apes? They look sort of like Earth’s extinct mountain gorillas, only with longer and straighter legs, no skull crest and less massive jaws. They have some long canines, and both of them tried to bite me and pull my arms off, after thumping their chests and huffing at me. After I thumped my own chest, and demonstrated some of our Kobani capability, they seem to think several of their teeth will grow back, and they know their arms will eventually heal. If they keep trying to bite me, there is a limit to how often they get to try that. They’ll have to learn to suck juice through a straw the next time.

“Anyway, assuming those two are typical of their race, they’re a cut above the average Krall mentally, but still murderous and probably genocidal. I think we may even be able to learn to speak their language directly. I’ll bet they can make the sounds of our speech. They displayed quite a range of sounds just before trying to attack me, and after that, as they apparently complained about their arms and teeth, licking their busted lips.

“I easily understood what they were thinking, even without words. I was wrong about that one ship being the fleet’s flagship because it stayed out of the fight, and it was always so protected. I learned it carried some big wig Thandol from the Emperor’s court, sent along to watch what happened here.

“At least we know what the Ragnar look like now. Per the prisoner’s own thoughts, they believe they’re the strongest, baddest asses in the Empire, and they don’t like the Thandol. It’s only the Thandol’s greatly superior weapons, military power, and other advanced technology that keep them in check, I think.”

In afterthought she said, “Oh. I almost forgot. There was a dead, but higher-ranking Ragnar in a compartment opened to vacuum, with an embedded communicator in his head. It’s less sophisticated than our Comtaps, or even the Olts and mind enhancers, but it has circuitry that my AI thinks is for Tachyon Space long-range communications. It should contain some stored addresses to devices belonging to VIPs in the Ragnar hierarchy, or possibly to some of the Thandol. We might find a use for those links.”

“Well, enough of that for now. I need to commune with Tet for a bit, so if anyone wants to go down to any of the four colonies before reinforcements arrive, go ahead. We’ll have help in less than an hour.”

****

Two days later, after an assessment of the attack on Zanzibar, the damages suffered and the losses tallied for both sides, Mirikami was extremely worried.

“Macy, it was your people’s guts, those seat-of-the-pants space dogfight skills, and our stealth, which made all the difference here. If the enemy knew how deadly that Debilitater beam is against an exposed Kobani, they could have used those projectors against our ships. I don't know what the beam range is in a vacuum, but it would certainly be less attenuated and disbursed than in atmosphere.

“It could probably be scaled up for use in space. All they need to do is get a small percentage of that radiation onto our exposed skin, or through our clothing, and we’re toast.”

Dillon didn’t think the risk was so high. “Tet, the hulls of our ships are impervious to nearly any external radiation. I thought that was what the stealth coatings regulated. Any electromagnetic radiation, particularly the high frequencies that beam uses are reflected or absorbed without penetrating.”

Mirikami shook his head. “Some of that radiation is what entered Greco Pollarie’s ship as it rose from the river. I don’t know for certain how the radiation got inside, perhaps through an open weapons port, but everyone on the Bridge and in one missile reload bay with an open door were dead, with obvious self-induced injuries, like those the Kobani that died on the surface or in the culverts suffered. Only the people in totally sealed metal lined compartments survived, and even they were rendered unconscious for hours from the slight radiation leakage.

“Our muscles can’t break our own bones, like happened with the Normals, and clone mod folks. But all of our people suffered dislocations, extensive tissue damage from violent flipping and contorting against hard surfaces, and some have actual nerve damage in their brains.”

Noreen brought up a previous idea. “What about the idea of improving our armor, and wearing the conductive mesh sheathing under that, for the slight electromagnetic leakage at the joints?”

“Max, and our technical group says that should work, and they’re examining that for us. As fighters, we can always try to enter combat situations protected that way. Except the Thandol already use this weapon as a common tool to enforce compliance on their subservient races. On civilians. We can’t expect our civilian population to live covered up like that all of the time. The beam is serious for a normal nervous system, fatal for ours, and probably for any life from Koban. We can’t easily put conductive mesh clothes on rippers, to take them into combat.

“The Thandol will soon figure out these super bodies and fast reactions of ours have a previously unrecognized vulnerability, an Achilles Heel if you will. The radiation’s effect is greatly amplified by our superconducting nervous system. If we can’t find a solution, we definitely can’t win this war on our own. Hell we might not even survive this war, unless we prepare to flee again, like we were ready to do from the Krall.”

Sarge nudged him and added a lighter note. “Best not let Maggi hear you sounding so defeatist. She’ll do more than jangle your nerves.”

Mirikami smiled. “True. But up until now, I always believed we were physically capable of taking care of ourselves, and our allies. I saw us as the lynch pin of the Federation, not the people that would be its point of failure.”

He shrugged. “I’ll never give up, even if I have to live in chainmail clothes and underwear for the rest of my expected long life. Max has promised us some new weapons technology, and I’ll be briefing Stewart and the Federation Council next. If the nature and effect of this Thandol weapon is shared widely enough in our own ranks, we have some bright people with wolfbat memory organization. Who knows what we might come up with to defend ourselves from the Thandol Empire?

****

President MacDougal’s announced and impending system wide Comtap broadcast had been discussed for a couple of days on Haven and Koban. Part of the story had become common knowledge. What was known is that there was a new sort of weapon, used by the Thandol Empire to control uprisings among their own restive populations. It generally was not used to cause many fatal results.

However, it was somehow far more deadly to a Kobani. It disabled them quickly, and killed them in situations where a Normal could survive. The Galactic Federation’s future existence was considered at risk if there was no defense found for the strongest defenders of their freedom.

The Thandol Empire had its sights on annexing all of Federation Space. Once they learned about the adjacent Planetary Union, they would presumably want to acquire that region as well, adding all of humanity to their list of subservient species in their expanding empire.

Two of the people waiting to hear what was to be said were Vince Naguma and Sarah Bradley. They no longer worked as researchers on Raspani health and welfare on Koban, in the abandoned covered compound at Hub City, because their subjects had all moved to Haven. Those Raspani now had mind enhancers embedded, restoring their awareness.

Vince had been a wolfbat casualty on his first day on Koban, losing his left hand to an attack. He now had a regenerated left hand, and regenerated missing fingers on his right hand. He’d never resumed working in his former field of microbiology, and his work with Sarah on Raspani recovery had drawn the two closer than just friends and coworkers.

Sarah’s work on alien viral and bacterial life had provided a shared interest for the two scientists, and added to their mutual attraction. Although Vince was considerably older than Sarah was, with Kobani mods, rejuvenation, and indefinite life extension, their age differences became irrelevant. They had formally “Signed the Line,” entering into an open-ended marriage contract. They continued to work together, deciding that the larger and exotic life of Koban needed studying more than its microbes.

They heard Stewart’s description of how the Thandol weapon was used, and he sent edited recorded images of its terrible effects on its living victims. Then he said it was much more severe for Kobani, easily fatal at intensities survivable by most other races.

Next, he told everyone how the weapon caused its effects, and why they were so much greater in a Kobani’s organic superconducting nervous system. The human and alien physicists were seeking some technological means to shield not only the fighters, but also the cities and homes where Kobani families lived. The best solution they had for now was to build shelters for their entire population, and wire suits around individuals.

Vince and Sarah looked at each other, and simultaneously said, “Kuttlefish!”

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DRAMATIS PERSONAE

HUMANS

Former crew from Flight of Fancy

Tetsuo Mirikami

Captain of captured Flight of Fancy. From Old Colony of New Honshu, in the Hub area. Became Commander of Prime City after Krall left Koban. Captain of the Mark of Koban, a captured Krall clanship. Leader of the Kobani.

Noreen Renaldo

Former First Officer of Flight of Fancy. From Old Colony of Ponce, in the Hub area. Married Dillon Martin. Mother of TGs Carson, Katelyn, and Cory. Captain of the Avenger, a stolen Krall clanship.

Jake (Artificial Intelligence)

An old model JK series AI computer, installed on Flight of Fancy. Able to operate many of the ship systems autonomously. Repository of vast human library of documents, books, films, Tri-Vid shows, etc. A common capability on long Jump passenger liners. Later, the software is cloned and named Jakob for reuse. The cloned software is eventually placed in a modern AI system aboard the Mark of Koban, Mirikami’s captured and converted Krall clanship.

(Chief) Mike Haveram

Was once Chief of the Drive Room on the Flight of Fancy. Now captain of the Falcon, a former smuggler’s ship purchased on Poldark. He helps supply Koban with goods and weapons from Human Space.

Macy Gundarfem

Former Motorfem on Flight of Fancy. One of the “Drive Rats.”

John Yin-Lee

Former Motorman on Flight of Fancy. One of the “Drive Rats.”

Andrew Johnson

Former Motorman on Flight of Fancy. One of the “Drive Rats.”

Nory Walters

Former Chief Steward on Flight of Fancy.

Mel Rigson

Former Steward and Medical technician on Flight of Fancy.

Cal Branson

Former Steward and Medical technician on Flight of Fancy.

Other former stewards

Javier Vazquez

Alfon Hanson

Jason Sieko

Bob Campbell

Machinist Mate.

Neri Bar

Machinist Mate.

Chack Nauguza

Cargo Specialist, handy man.

Passengers from the Fancy, and various other ships, and early captives

Dillon Martin

Professor of biological sciences, sent to Midwife to study developing primitive life. Hidden specialty is forbidden genetics research. From Rhama, a New Colony, close to the Hub worlds. Married Noreen Renaldo. Father of TGs Carson, Katelyn, and Cory. Works on Kobani gene mods.

Maggi Fisher

Professor of biological sciences, Chairfem of Board of Director’s on Midwife project. From Rhama. Organizing unofficial teams to recover lost genetic knowledge. Later, first Mayor of Prime City. Works in Kobani gene mods. She marries (Signs the Line) with Captain Mirikami.

Aldry Anderfem

Professor of biological sciences, granddaughter of Claronce Anderson, a former President of Alders world. Supports secret Genetics research. Administered first human Clone mods in three hundred years, to make Second Generation Kobani. Helps design and implement Kobani mods.

Rafe Campbell

Studied human genetic mutations from cosmic rays on Brussels, a New Colony. Wife Isadora killed on ship by a Krall, “exercising.” Dove into Koban genetic studies when given a chance to make humans physically superior to the Krall. Chief designer of Kobani gene mods.

Other Captives (at Koban Prime, later renamed Prime City)

Mavray Doushan

Was Poldark's Deputy Ambassador to Bollovstic's Republican Independency. Both are Rim worlds. Made first warning recording of Krall raiders intentions. Killed as collaborator for trying to negotiate better treatment by the Krall.

Thaddeus Greeves

Former Colonel of a Diplomatic Security detail for Poldark Ambassador. Married Marlyn Rodriguez. Father of TGs Ethan, Bradley, and Danner.

Marlyn Rodriguez

First Officer of Rimmer’s Dream, arrived in mass capture of human ships. Married Thad Greeves. Mother of TGs Ethan, Bradley, and Danner. Captain of the Beagle, a stolen Krall clanship. Killed in raid on K1.

Deanna Turner

Organizer of the first Primes to volunteer to work with the Flight of Fancy personnel. On Mirikami’s combat team.

Frank Constansi

Clarice Femfreid

Juan Wittgenstein

Early Prime volunteers to work with Mirikami. On Mirikami’s Testing Day combat team.

Next Generation Kobani

Carson Martin

Parents Noreen and Dillon, born an SG, received Koban gene mods to become Third Generation Kobani. Marries Alyson Formby.

Ethan Greeves

Parents Marlyn and Thad, born an SG, received Koban gene mods to become Third Generation Kobani.

Alyson Formby

Born in Hub City as an SG. At eighteen, left home to request Koban mods, against her parent’s wishes. Became first TG from Hub City, then first to be a TG1 from there. Married Carson Martin.

Jorl Breaker

Fred Saber

Bill Saber

Their parents were all early Koban captives. At sixteen, they become TGs.

HUMAN SPACE

Garland (Sarge) Reynolds

Sergeant in the PU Army on Poldark. Captured by the Krall, and in a fluke of circumstance is taken to Koban, and is there rescued by the Kobani, twenty years into the war with the Krall. His arrival and rescue from a captured clanship is key the event for the Kobani to travel to Human Space.

Henry Nabarone

Major General of the Planetary Union Army, in charge of Poldark’s defense. Formerly in a local militia unit, and second in command after Colonel Thaddeus Greeves of that same unit. Becomes a Kobani.

Joseph Longstreet

Captain of a platoon of spec ops troops, expanded to absorb remnants of units suffering losses from missions behind Krall lines on Poldark. Becomes a Kobani.

William Crager

Former “Top” Sargent of spec ops training on Heavyside. Becomes a Kobani.

Golda Mauss

Admiral that commanded first two naval raids on K1, participated in a third as ship captain and advisor. Becomes a Kobani.

Adriana Bledso

Naval Chief of Staff. Becomes Chairfem of Joint Chiefs of Staff of Planetary Union military.

Heavyside

A Rim world planet, not considered suitable for mass human colonization. Located on the anti-spinward side of human exploration, on the far side of Human Space from the Krall invasion. It has 1.41 times Earth’s gravity. Originally, it was named Andropov’s World, after Admiral Elaine Andropov, a long dead war hero from before the Collapse. The nickname for the planet eventually became the accepted name. Heavyside is now home of the Special Operations training program. Site of a second gene lab for converting selected spec ops candidates into Kobani.

KRALL

Tot Gatrol Telour

Originally a Krall translator, of Graka Clan. Second in command of Newborn Raid. Placed in charge of captives at Koban Prime. Became second in command to Tor Gatrol Kanpardi, with the title/rank of Til Gatrol. Became Tor after arranging Kanpardi’s murder.

Tor Gatrol Kanpardi

General/Admiral of Graka Clan, Gatrol was his early rank and title. Later, Tor Gatrol, as High General in command of all forces in the war with humans. Based on Telda Ka, or “Base 1,” the former human Rim colony of Greater West Africa, which humans now call K1. All eighteen million people were slaughtered on his order, to have a “clean” base.  Assassination arranged by Telour to obtain his position.

Gatlek Pendor

Mordo clan. He is the replacement invasion commander on Poldark. Gatlek is his rank, equivalent to the lowest rank of General for the Krall. Leads later invasion on second human world. Assassinated Tor Gatrol Kanpardi for favors from Telour.

KRALL’TAPI

Called the “soft Krall” by the now genetically distinct Krall. The Krall’tapi are what the Krall were twenty five thousand years ago, when they allowed the Olt’kitapi to modify a gene that made Krall super aggressive and war-like, creating a people less uncontrollably violent, and ready to work with the Olt’kitapi. After the warrior Krall revolted against the ancient race, the Krall’tapi people were held captive by the self-evolving Krall for many thousands of years. Only the soft Krall could command the ancient Olt’kitapi mining ships that can break worlds apart for habitat construction material, or for war.

EXTERMINATED ALIEN RACES

Olt’kitapi

Highly advanced and ancient people, determined pacifists, who first discovered the Krall. Mentored the violent race, hoping to make them more peaceful, but were betrayed and destroyed by the Krall about 22,000 years ago. They were never physically described by the Krall, but they had multiple classes of citizens, of various body types and social functions. They taught the Krall how to use the simple parts of their advanced technology, and designed warships and weapons specifically for them, to suit their personality and level of intelligence. Their goal was to modify their excessive war-like behavior, yet use their strength and natural aggression to help “police” the interspecies galactic society they wished to forge. They had a plan for keeping the Krall under control until “socially tamed.”

They were the first conquest described by Krall when they revolted.

Botolians

Aggressive omnivores, evolved from social pack animals that resembled Earth Primates. Good fighters, but controlled a relatively small six hundred light year radius of settled space, bypassing colder and higher gravity planets. Slow breeders. Was first Worthy Enemy. Larger than humans, the size of lowland gorillas, and nearly as strong as a Krall. Smarter than Krall, but slower reflexes and predictable pack hunting tactics made them easier for the Krall to surround and attack. Not tricky or subtle, and preferred direct frontal confrontation versus ambushes and skirmishes, and were out matched in such fights. Always refused to surrender, and were all destroyed.

Piltcons

Wiped out by the Krall a mere thousand years after the enjoyable war with the Botolians. The young species had relatively low technology, inhabiting only two worlds in their home star system. They did not have Jump technology, and fought poorly. That was hardly surprising because they resembled a chubby but fast running long legged flightless bird with long feathery arms and three fingered hands. Their small heads did not house their sizable brains, which were located in the torso where the slender neck attached, placed one foot below the beaked mouth, large eyes, and hearing membranes. The Krall found it entertaining to decapitate the creatures and watch them run around blind and choking on their blood, until the lack of oxygen or loss of blood caused their brains to lapse into unconsciousness. They would “steer” the hapless animals by plucking feathers as they ran, causing them to turn away from the threat, which they felt but could not see or hear. Their lean dark meat was edible and tasty when raw, but the creatures were so fragile that clan leaders decided they were a poor choice as meat animals to be raised with the hazards found on various worlds. The truth of the matter was that warriors could not resist the fun of slashing off their heads for the entertainment value.

Malverans

A reptilian race the Krall met and exterminated several thousand years before encountering humans. They were an insect eating race that lived only on warm dry worlds, with 0.7 to .8 Earth g’s. Their slow metabolism made them easy prey for the Krall. The volume they’d colonized was about four hundred light-years in radius, adjacent to an area humanity would have been exploring in less than fifty years.

Discovery of Koban

It was a world in Malveran space, which had been far too hostile for the slow reacting Malverans to settle. They had a few dozen colonies, and those fell quickly to attacks by a single clan, the Dorbo.

Eventually the Maldo, a small finger clan of Dorbo, were awarded a choice of former Malvern worlds to settle. They selected an unused heavy gravity world, later called the testing ground, or ko ban in low Krall. They built an open compound on ko ban. Native life nearly killed off the Maldo clan. They learned they could survive there only by building walls and electric fences and carrying weapons. This situation drew the attention of all the major clans, who tried and failed to settle on ko ban without walled compounds.

ENSLAVED AILEN RACES

Raspani

A spacefaring, once highly intelligent and peaceful race, with only about a dozen colonized worlds in a small empire. They were another client race of the Olt’kitapi, advancing under their guidance. After their defeat by the Krall, they became semi-intelligent because the Krall bred and used them as meat animals. They were raised in herds on many of Krall worlds. The grey creatures, paler on the stomach than on the back, looked somewhat like a pigmy hippopotamus from Earth. They are nearly three feet high at mid back, and five feet long in the lower torso. The upper part of their torso is vaguely centaur-like, which when held upright places their heads five feet above ground.

They have a pudgy pair of human-like jointed arms and dexterous looking hands. When grazing, they pluck tender grass shoots and fern leaves with their hands. They also eat fruits and berries if they can find them. They have the masticating side teeth of most herbivores, but sport two residual tusks, jutting up from the lower front jaw. These protruded three or four inches above fleshy lips, and facial features arranged much like on a human. They have a central flat nose above their lips, with two large nostrils, and large, forward-facing brown eyes under light brown furred brows. The head was smooth, rounded, and hairless, but there was some sparse brown hair growing along their upper and lower backs.

Blue Flower Eater

A Raspani spokesperson’s mind, encoded on a modified quantum storage device along with millions of other Raspani minds, who sought protection from Krall atrocities on their species.

Prada

Bipedal, forest and jungle living, eats fruit, nuts, insects, and small game. The creatures are black or brown, with white markings. Resemble a lemur or monkey-like mammal, with a useful prehensile tail. About the size of an Earth Chimpanzee, they can use their five fingered hands (with longer middle finger for digging out grubs) and long toes almost equally well. They retain some arboreal ability. The Prada have large yellow eyes, and they were originally nocturnal animals. They are the Krall’s main assemblers and builders.

Their society took roughly seventeen thousand Earth years to colonize a volume some three thousand light years in radius. They selected moderate gravity worlds of 0.7 to 0.8 g’s, and preferred dimmer redder stars than Sol. They befriended other races, unless such contact was rejected. Engaged in cooperation and trade with Olt’kitapi.

They are a long-lived species who place their eldest members in charge. This deferment to the elders is why they originally cooperated with the Olt’kitapi, the oldest intelligent species they knew. After they were all killed, the next oldest species they knew were the Krall.

Now they are loyal and submissive to the Krall, and they have lost their original language, so speak only “low” Krall. They are the largest group of slaves and can build most things the Krall want for war, or have copied from other races.

Wister

A male Prada elder, roughly one thousand three hundred years old, found in a tree village on the planet next to Koban, left there by the Krall when they departed the system.

Nawella

A female Prada elder, and sister of Wister. She is a bit older than her brother is and he seeks her advice. Together they manage a small village of their people, who preserve an underground factory complex where anything required by the Krall can be built.

Torki

A highly intelligent eight foot wide by five foot long, and three foot high land crab race with one large defensive pincher and a smaller one for grasping, and a hard deep purple shell with eight amber colored legs. The two in front of their mouths are small and used as dexterous manipulators. Their eyes are on two-foot stalks, and they perform fine assembly of tools and electronics for the Krall, copying from plans taken from other defeated races.

They had been star traveling for eleven thousand years when the Krall over ran them. Preferred worlds with ample seashores, and bypassed most worlds inside their six hundred light year sphere. They built giant ships for their large bodies, and simulated seaside environments for their own comfort. Huge ships carried only a few hundred Torki, but when used by the Krall they had room for ten thousand warriors, or even more Prada. Several thousand Torki could fit, with great discomfort.

As adults, these land crabs are terrestrial and are found as far as ten miles from the shoreline, returning to the sea only to soak or breed. They sleep at night in cool burrows several feet deep, or at least to a level that will allow water to seep in for moisture. They are primarily vegetarians, preferring tender leaves, fruits, berries, flowers, seaweed, and some vegetables. Occasionally they will eat fish, beetles, or other large insects.

Like all crabs, they shed their shells as they grow. If they have lost legs or claws during their present growth cycle, a new one will be present after they molt. If the large claw is lost, males will develop one on the opposite side until their next molt. Newly molted crabs are very vulnerable because of their soft shells. They are reclusive and hide until the new shell hardens.

Coldar

An influential Torki in his lodge, left behind on the world next to Koban when the Krall departed. The crabs can communicate electronically by a quantum storage device they were given prior to becoming sentient, by the Olt’kitapi. As they advanced, the locked libraries in the storage devices open to help them access new knowledge and databases. They know of the ancient race, but they never met their benefactors. They build new storage devices as their population expands, and copy the data they have into them, not knowing what new information they may contain.

About the Author:

I was born in 1942, so I'm an autumn rather than a spring chicken. I live outside of Tampa, Florida with my fabulous wife Anita, and one remaining son sort-of at home, Montana. I have three older boys, Mark, Gary, and Anthony, all of whom have married and presented us with terrific grandchildren.

My early reading interests were arguably all sci-fi related, from Doctor Doolittle, Captain Marvel, to Superman. I then transitioned to "real" science fiction on black and white TV, such as Captain Video and Flash Gordon. I read hundreds of books by the science fiction greats growing up, and thousands of fair to not so greats in dual novel paperbacks and magazines. I’ve had a lifelong love of science and science fiction.

My education gravitated to science, starting out as a physics major and my depression era folks told me I'd never make a living as a theoretical physicist (probably right, and Cosmology wasn't a career field then), so I moved to Electronics Engineering. I did most of that in the aerospace field for MacDonnell Douglas Corp, in St. Louis, Mo. I worked on the F4 Phantom project, and briefly on Manned Orbiting Laboratory (MOL), before the fickle fates of government finance forced contract cancelations. I devoted (meaning I was drafted into) two years' service for the US Army from 1965 to 1967. A great two years, and the Army, caring not the least about my electronics background, offered this draftee a job as an Air Traffic Controller. Cool!

After discharge I spent a short time back at MacDonnell Douglas before the contract reductions laid me off, and was hired by Emerson Electric (1968), working on the design of a neat heads-up fire control system for the Army's new Cheyenne Helicopter (to be a 270-knot hybrid fixed wing/rotor craft). Never heard of it? The fickle fates of Army finance is why this time, plus Lockheed didn't keep the airframe part from crashing and burning at a crucial point in development.

I taught Electronics for about eighteen months (near starvation wages after the high pay), and finally decided to try my hand at actually supporting my family again. I hired on with the Federal Aviation Administration as an Air Traffic Controller in 1970. Thanks Army! In 1979, I changed jobs in the FAA to use my technical background to work on writing features for the software of the FAA's Terminal Automation Systems (for 28 years, with some controller time overlap). I spent exactly forty years (to the day) in federal service.

Retired, I now work as a consultant/contractor for the FAA, supporting a software system I helped to create. In anticipation of more free time while retired (wrong!), I finally decided to try my hand at writing what I love to read for escapism, Science Fiction.

Thanks for reading my books,

Steve Bennett

Published Books

Koban (August, 2012)

Koban: The Mark of Koban (February, 2013)

Koban: The Rise of the Kobani (October, 2013)

Koban Universe 1 (March, 2014)

Koban: Shattered Worlds (October 2014)

Koban: A Federation Forged in Fire (2015)

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I hope you’ve enjoyed the story. More to come.