Koban: Rise of the Kobani (66 page)

Mirikami and the Bridge group went down by elevator to the lowest deck, which was growing crowded as the TGs raced each other to stand on the deck or stairs at the bottom. They wore their normal range of personal clothing. They had been offered uniforms by General Nabarone, but it had been decided that the citizen soldiers of Koban would remain more citizen than they were soldier. Not even Captain Mirikami and the other three SGs normally wore a uniform. It wasn’t as if the Krall drew a distinction between soldiers and civilians by uniform anyway.

With Trakenburg in charge of them, the ten spec ops men were certainly in their Booster Suits, wearing black dress uniforms, with black berets and boots. They looked sharp and sinister, and the color was in keeping with the carbon fiber body suits they wore underneath the uniforms. On Poldark, they had normally removed the body suits when off duty, except for straight-laced Trakenburg, who always seemed to wear his suit.

However, all ten had been wearing the Booster Suits for the five days in the ship’s higher gravity, except when specifically exercising to tone muscles. Six months or more spent on Poldark had started to sap the muscles they had developed from their last refresher visit to Heavyside. A four-month rotation back there annually was needed to stay in combat shape. Soon it would be gene mods and Koban doing that for them.

It was prearranged that the Mark and the Avenger would disembark their people first, to allow families to meet with their sons and daughters, brothers and sisters. All uncomfortably remembered their six dead comrades, whose bodies had returned with the Beagle months ago. A ceremony was planned later for the returning TGs, to honor their fallen friends.

They waited for the signal that all was ready. On cue with Noreen, Mirikami had the AI open the portal facing the Fancy and extend the ramp. They were greeted by roaring cheers from the people that had gathered outside, pouring from the dome and out of the Flight of Fancy.

With over two hundred crew on the Mark, they quickly poured down the ramp to seek out their families. From the Avenger, those twenty-five also ran headlong to meet friends and family. Thad and Dillon went down more sedately with their sons, while Mirikami stayed with the ten spec ops troopers.

Sergeant Jenkins asked him, “Is this the usual greeting when you come home?”

Mirikami shook his head. “I can’t say. It’s the first time. It may be this way a time or two, but it probably won’t last. It’s the first any of these kids were ever off Koban. Some were never even away from home more than a few nights. We only have this Krall dome and another one for living space, each of which has greater capacity than our entire population.

“We’re beginning to expand and explore, now that basic survival is no longer our main goal. We’ll build human designed habitation soon, provided we can come up with materials the local animals can’t destroy by bumping into it or trying to peel it open for what might be inside to eat.” That comment drew some stares

Trakenburg offered a comment. “From what I can see, it seems very inviting. The air is fresh and fragrant the temperature is mild, a bit humid perhaps. However, I don’t see anything but tarmac and the disabled ships you told us were here, and some blue-green grass past the pavement. Where are the animals I heard about?”

Mirikami pointed to the northeast. “See those groups of dots in the sky? Coming this way?”

“Sure. My eye implants show they are flapping like birds, but they must be larger based on their distance. What are they?”

“That is our air cover against scorpion skeeters. If you switch on your ultrasonic sound mikes, you can probably hear them. Those are squadrons of wolfbats. We have an agreement with them to furnish them meat in exchange for such protection, and to scout for us when we hunt or explore. They no longer consider us a prey animal and a food source.”

“How big are they? They don’t look like they’d be much of a threat.”

“They range from the size of a midsized dog to a large one. However, their strength is greater than an average human, and they are a lot faster than you or I. If I tried to take a punch at one, or grab hold of a wing, I’d likely lose the hand or some fingers. An unarmed TG could take care of a squadron of five or six of them without a lot of trouble, if he or she was vigilant. You and your men, with just your suits and no guns? I don’t think one of you alone would last a night against a squadron of five in the open. I sure wouldn’t.”

“Huh,” was all Trakenburg uttered, obviously not convinced.

Just then there was a shot fired, which drew only brief attention from those outside. The spec ops troops appeared a bit itchy, ready to draw their side arms. Mirikami needed to convince them to keep their weapons holstered. “That was someone shooting down a skeeter with a buckshot load. You men have slugs. That is not what you want in this case. Even the buckshot would be dangerous if it hadn’t been fired by that TG over there.” He pointed to a young girl picking up the large dead insect she had killed.

“That has over a two-foot wing span!” Longstreet said. “That’s a skeeter?”

“It’s a
scorpion
skeeter.” Mirikami amended. “There’s a serious paralyzing sting in their tail. I guarantee that you will go down if stung. Three or four stings and you won’t get back up, ever. They operate in small flocks of two to four bugs usually, so there are others still around that came with the dead bug. If you were paralyzed and alone, three or four will settle on you and drain you of blood in ten to fifteen minutes. We keep our eyes open and heads on a swivel on Koban. A Jazzer is the best weapon for them and crowd safe. However, I’ve seen more than one TG kill them with a well-thrown rock. We’ll issue you some Jazzers later today. I have mine in my pocket.”

One of the troopers called out. “Those closest five wolfbats are diving towards the crowd. They’re making a hell of a racket ultrasonically.” Corporal Dmitry Stepnov was clearly alarmed.

Mirikami looked where he was pointing. He saw that quite a number of people in the crowd were aware of them and looking up, but seemed unconcerned. Then the squadron leveled off three feet over their heads, and split up to dart around the sides of the ships, in chase of several skeeters that had been hovering for an opportunity to go after anyone not paying attention. That was not something anyone living on Koban for very long ever did when outside.

“I told you men, the wolfbats come when we have a ship land, or they see a lot of people outside, or if we whistle for them.” He pulled out the stainless steel whistle he’d taken out of his duffel that morning and put in his pocket. It had not been useful on Poldark.

“They know we will offer them food for protecting us from the skeeters, or from a handful of other creatures that are brazen enough to come this close to us by the dome. Such as a pack of screamers that came after me, right on this same area of tarmac once. Those are two-and-a-half feet high miniature raptors, which operate in groups of six to a dozen. Noisy and superfast little monsters when they attack. They will eat your ass too.” He grinned.

“Ok. I get the point of all your warnings,” Longstreet said in a strained rush.

“Now please tell me that beast is a
tame
ripper running right at us!” He had placed a nervous hand on his pistol butt, and the other men did the same as they all started backing away from the edge of the ramp.

“Hands off your guns! That’s Kobalt.” His warning was more for their protection and the crowd’s than for the big cat’s safety. Their chance of hitting him was low, but there would be bystanders near him as he dodged. He slipped gracefully past them, coming at an easy lope, teal colored fur rippling over the powerful muscles underneath.

Mirikami stepped forward, hopeful the huge playful cat wasn’t about to exuberantly bowl him over in his greeting, thus frightening the crap out of the ten men with guns, that were unsure if this was the least bit safe.

“Come on boy!” He said this as much to reassure the others, as to encourage Kobalt, who clearly wasn’t going to be kept away from his Uncle Tet anyway.

The big beast bounded up the ramp in a single easy leap and reared his front paws enough to place them on Mirikami’s shoulders, and planted a huge wet pink tongue on the man’s cheek. He was perfectly aware that his uncle didn’t like these wet “kisses,” so he did it anytime he thought the absence had been long enough to pretend it was justified. Thankfully, Kobalt kept most of his eight hundred pound weight on his rear haunches. Even the weight of his massive forelegs and paws were as much as Mirikami could hold up as he was playfully mauled.

To those behind Mirikami, a small man anyway, he seemed engulfed by a giant blue-green tiger. The open mouth exposed the large fangs, and the long pink tongue around the side of his head made it seem the beast was in the process of chewing the hapless victim’s head off.

Mirikami’s squall of protest at the slobbery lick sounded awfully close to a cry for help to the watching men. Then the fanged monster suddenly dropped to the deck, rolled on its back, tongue still lolling out of the side of that fearsome mouth, and waited for the chest and belly rub it had learned to love back when it was a small cub, often delivered by this favorite uncle.

One hand rubbing at the chest and stomach, the other grasping the frill, Mirikami both scolded the cat’s behavior with annoyed thought pictures, while rewarding it with the chest and belly rub it craved. It was a ludicrous combination of a giant fierce killer on its back, tongue hanging out, hind legs pawing the air as the belly rub tickled it into growling spasms of pleasure.

It ended too soon for Kobalt, but a frill thought from Mirikami promised more rubs later when they were in a less public place. Using his sleeve and shoulder, he dried his cheek, and a hand smoothed his short black hair back into place on the right, where it had been displaced by the lick.

Attempting to recover some of the dignity that Kobalt had just robbed him of in front of these fighting men, Mirikami took a deep breath and turned around to face them, bearing a thoroughly serious expression. It lasted all of two seconds as everyone burst into laughter. Theirs, mostly in relief they weren’t facing a huge tiger’s attack with pop guns and his, in embarrassment at this public display of affection. The latter was not something seen very often on reserved New Honshu, where Mirikami had been raised.

The laughter died down and Mirikami made an introduction to the ten wary spec ops men. “Men, I want you to meet Kobalt, the genetic origin of the most significant Koban derived modifications you and I will be receiving, and which the TG’s and TG1’s already have. He has a twin sister, Kit, whom I assume will be along shortly. The two of them were the first rippers we raised, as orphaned newborn cubs.

He glanced at Kobalt, and continued, “You should know that Kobalt and Kit understand perhaps eighty to eighty-five percent of the Standard spoken to them. It is the more abstract references they have trouble understanding. Such as,
this hot sun is burning my ass off.
They will look to see if that’s true.” That drew the laughs and chuckles expected.

“The limit to their vocabulary and understanding us better is largely because we humans did not have their genes for Mind Tap ability incorporated until a few months ago. That’s when our ability to share thoughts and meanings with them accelerated, because our TG1’s could explain meanings faster and better to them.

“Naturally, they don’t have the means to voice our language, but they are very expressive in their own language.” He looked at Kobalt, who sensed what was about to be asked. His large blue eyes twinkled.

“Roar for the nice men, Kobalt.”

Kobalt raised his massive head, fangs exposed as his jaws gaped, and an ear splitting, deep base bone vibrating roar issued from deep in his chest, and it made even Mirikami step back and cover his ears. Everyone standing outside the ship was startled by the directed force of the reverberation, created in a metal-sided hold with only one portal open. They instinctively ducked down. It was instantly answered from half dozen places in the crowd, as Kit and some of her children, or offspring from other cats replied in kind. It quickly led to laughter among the people in the crowd, realizing it was a demonstration for the newcomers.

“Holy shit!” Longstreet shouted, half deafened by the effect in the enclosed space. “Warn us to cover our ears next time. I definitely don’t want to hear that out in the wild.”

Kobalt, pleased with the results, smoothly moved next to Longstreet, presenting his frill for touching. Mirikami explained what to do. “Joe, place a hand on that inch high fleshy ring around his neck. He wants to talk to you. We call that frilling, instead of a Mind Tap, but it’s the same principle.”

Longstreet tentatively touched the top of the ridge of teal flesh, and his eyes widened and he grinned as the thoughts poured from the cat. He visualized the cat’s amusement at scaring the new arrivals. Then he was informed, partly with what seemed to be words spoken in Standard in Dillon’s voice, which entered into his mind.  He received images and emotions as well, explaining that rippers “tasted” the fears and emotions of others. The voice in his head seemed to be Dillon’s, and it answered Longstreet’s unasked thought question.

“I use my father’s voice for thought words with people. He taught the world to me as a cub, and I wanted to sound as he does if I could speak. I was told by my mother and father, when I frilled them today, that I would meet a friend to my father where my uncle waited. I knew which man in black you were when my uncle touched my frill. I offer to hunt with you when you are ready. My father says you like to hunt.”