Koban: Rise of the Kobani (84 page)

This was an improvisation on her part, but the actual fighting
at the station was all going to be done by the TG2s anyway. A missile or beam attack on that would open too many compartments to space, and kill most of those they were here to rescue.

One of the clanship pilots volunteered to deliver the large boarding party to the orbital station, leaving her free to track down Eight Balls. The Torki from the station could then tell them where more of the Balls were located, if spread around the system as she assumed.

The ground rescue might need all of their forces to take the dome and guard against a possible Krall counter attack while the Sea Wanderer loaded. The lodge evacuation on the other hand, would be easier. The Krall disliked water, and they were too dense to swim far or fast, and generally stayed away from cool, dank lodges.

The Home Tide was going to land in the ocean just off shore from the Torki lodge. It would take on water, and the lodge population could swim out underwater to get aboard. There were seldom Krall visiting a lodge, other than for picking up completed single ships, mini tanks, or testing other weapons that required electronics and quantum encrypted locks.

There would be a few dozen TG2s landing with Home Tide, to go ashore to provide protection.

Marlyn wrapped up the meeting, so the task of transferring supplies that the migration ships needed could start. She spent time with the three clanship pilots, whom she insisted on calling captains, despite their feelings they had not earned the position. All of them had the full complex of ripper genes, which meant they soon had the knowledge of how to fight their ships as well as fly them. If things went well, they would get to watch the Beagle do most of the shooting. Marlyn wasn’t about to let on to them that she had gained no combat experience from her trip into Human Space, just more flight experience in a Krall clanship, which these former Spacers didn’t have.

They were finished with the supply and crew transfers a half day before Marlyn needed to Jump. The newly christened Thunder, a name her new captain liked, would Jump with the Beagle. It would hold back while Marlyn made a pass at the unsuspecting planet, to take out the small number of clanships expected there, and hit the top floors of the dome where the lone Prada factory was located underneath. The Thunder would then follow the Beagle to the orbital station, and hard dock to let seven hundred TG2s knock on the doors, so to speak.

****

The Avenger came out at its waypoint system all alone. Noreen and her Bridge staff were informed by her signals section that there were two sets of messages for them. One, a day old message from the Beagle, which said all of its migration ships and clanships had joined her. Marlyn would be ready to Jump on schedule, as would be her rescue ships.

The second message was from Mirikami,
sent two days ago, saying that the Mark of Koban was now waiting at its standoff point, but didn’t expect his other ships to catch up to him before he had to Jump to CS1. He pointed out that he didn’t need the rescue ships to meet with him before he started his raid, and he planned to leave a message for them to follow him as soon as they could. If supplies were not loaded by a day later, the transfer work could be completed
after
they left CS1. Saving the factory workers came first.

Noreen
grinned over at Carson, monitoring a console on the Bridge. “Now if our own ships can get here before
we
have to leave. Our migration ships were the second set that Tet sent ahead, right after his group. I think they’ll be here by tomorrow, and our supply clanships left Heaven early, and should arrive today.

“I’ll ask your dad to organize
our people below, to help prepare as many shuttle loads as we can before the big ships get here. Like Tet, I don’t think we can get all the clanships unloaded into them before we have to Jump.

“
I’d like to have one of the new clanships go with us, to add some firepower. Their message said they took on some of the new ground attack missiles, which we don’t have. I wish we had known the Prada could turn those out so soon. Wister must have lit a fire under those bushy tails to get them so busy. I suspect Tet would have waited another day or two for those, if he knew they would be ready so soon. The Prada have not had tight deadlines from the Krall, who spent fifty years preparing to fight humans. They don’t coordinate well with our impatient species, mostly because
we
are not the high and mighty
Rulers
.”

Carson looked worried about her last remark. “Mom, if the Prada and Torki can gear up for
faster production for us, can’t they do it for the Krall if ordered? Are we really going to slow them down in attacks in Human Space that much? I know Uncle Tet is counting on our attacks to do that.”

“Carson, your uncle Thad and General Nabarone understand this strategy better
than I do, and they support it.  Captain Mirikami has been so right so often on the big picture, that I don’t doubt his overall plan. The Navy briefing they received on Poldark indicated the Krall were massing material on planets that were scouted out in their territory. It appeared they were almost in position to use the migration ships to transport a lot of war material forward to K1, or start more invasions.

“General Nabarone said the Army has tens of millions of soldiers in the training pipeline now, many of them from Hub worlds, and they can be placed wherever the Krall choose to go. The productivity of weapons and equipment is finally at a level to supply that many troops.”

Carson saw where she was going. “After this week, the Krall can’t deliver their new equipment to the front lines at the pace they need. They have already lost their migration ships, and the clanships they have now will have to last until replaced in a few years, from new facilities. If the Navy can take out more of their clanships it will force the Krall to slow down their advances, while humanity continues to build up forces.”

Noreen was amused to watch her son pull at his lower lip, in an unconscious imitation of his uncle’s thinking pose.
His words also echoed the thoughts that could have come from Mirikami. “This is going to enrage the Krall clans. Berserker anger might be impossible to resist on Poldark, if they decided to punish humanity there.”

Dillon,
stepping out of a lift, heard his son. “Carson, it isn’t as if they weren’t winning the war the way it was going. Higher human casualties may result from our attacks in two days, but Krall recklessness and anger should also deplete their resources faster, buying time and saving lives in the long term.

“From the Prada and Torki we have learned
they don’t have the large slave population we expected. They only kept alive those workers they needed, to drag out wars for as long as they could for their selective breeding to succeed. High productivity has never been a requirement when they fought past wars. We are taking the workers that know how to build the most critical weapon elements with us. This will hurt them.” 

Carson asked the key question, which they all had been asking themselves. “
What can they do to hurt us in return?”

Th
e answer, when it came, would be worse than anyone had imagined.

****

Telour’s visit to the soft Krall world was now paying the dividends he and Tor Gatrol Kanpardi had expected. Til Gatrol Telour, bearing his new title as Kanpardi’s second in command, marched down from his clanship between two octets of his own honor guard. He had only permitted his title, and his inspection, to be announced in advance of his landing.

Telour relished the rare look of surprise on a Krall’s rigid face, when Parkoda
realized that the title of Til Gatrol had been awarded to his old Graca clan nemesis.

Parkoda, still a Tanga clan sub leader
with one name, knew to expect a difficult time from any representative sent by Tor Gatrol Kanpardi, but he knew this inspection was going to be particularly brutal to his ego. There wasn’t even the possibility that his clan would back him this time, in a death match challenge offered to anyone with such high status. On Koban, he now knew his clan leader had sacrificed him for a possible political advantage for the clan. A move that failed when Kanpardi had shrugged off Parkoda’s insulting remarks, and had remained the Gatrol.

Protocol required Parkoda to walk up to a high status, triple-named warrior and salute, and ask how he could serve him. Determined to show no sign of his anger and resentment, he stood in front of Telour and raised his left arm; talons extended, and dropped the arm crisply.

He fervently wished he could have torn the flesh from Telour’s muzzle, the stoic expression on his personal and clan enemy marred by a slight ripple of his flexible lips. The latter betrayed a sense of pleasure, as if Telour had just tasted some particularly flavorful Raspani meat. 

Maintaining iron control over his own temper, Parkoda asked, “How may I serve you, Til Gatrol?” He omitted saying his base name of Telour, which conveyed no overt insult to the high status rank because the full title was spoken on his initial greeting. It was a trivial slight aimed at the holder of that rank, demonstrating that he wasn’t currying the favor he knew wasn’t going to be offered.

“Sub leader, you must personally show me how you verify every soft Krall prisoner’s location, and demonstrate that they are all here.” Telour knew well how it was done, but making Parkoda do it personally was part of showing to all that he was a low status flunky.

This demand surprised Parkoda. He anticipated criticism of how security was conducted, how guards were trained, and how many were assigned to monitor the compound where the soft ones lived. This demand was simple arithmetic, done mainly at the inconvenience of the soft ones, forcing them to pass in lines through a Katusha tattoo detector and having them counted. This was done periodically anyway.

“Yes, Til Gatrol.” He turned to his own aide, to order the assembly siren to sound over the compound. He was interrupted.

“I said for you to
personally
show me all of the steps. If I was in error and you have been demoted in status again, and this warrior you turned to is now the sub leader in charge, I will order him to do as I said.”

There
, Telour thought in satisfaction.
One
cloaca
lick forced in public
. This was in front of Parkoda’s next highest subordinate. The word would spread. The number two Krall always wanted his superior’s status and job, if he could get it without exposing his own disloyalty or justify to the clan leaders that a death match challenge served their needs.

Parkoda’s eyes narrowed and his deployed ultrasonic ears quivered to show his emotion, but all he said was, “Follow me.”

Then he ran towards the armored blockhouse, placed outside the main entrance to the dome where the prisoners were housed. Because Krall generally ran from point A to point B if it was more than about fifty feet, it wasn’t an insult to do this. However, doing so at top speed was pushing the envelope of proper respect.

For Parkoda’s purposes, he wanted to dismiss the warriors inside to leave immediately. He would send them to help herd the soft one’s towards the counting stations, before they could see what next humiliation Telour could think of to inflict.

When Telour stepped inside, the hand of warriors there were racing through the heavy airlock-like door, into the dome. Parkoda pressed the button to trigger the head count siren call the instant Telour entered, making certain he
saw
him performing the action. The wail of the alert through the open double doors diminished when the outer door closed.

That gave Telour his next opportunity to nitpick Parkoda’s administration of the facility, but robbed him of his audience.

He noted critically, “Both doors were open simultaneously. A soft one waiting outside could have tried to enter the guard house.”

Parkoda countered. “There were five of us in here, all armed, and we have twice their strength and speed. I assumed your time was too valuable to wait, so I opened both doors to send my warriors to gather the soft Krall faster. They will be tending their crops and Raspani herd.” This was a Raspani dung pile of an excuse, but Telour couldn’t call them back to witness another humiliation of their sub leader.

One of the two honor guard octets had followed Telour, at his signal, and the eight warriors were crowded at the outer entrance behind Telour. This gave Parkoda an opportunity to dig back at these Graka clan interlopers.

“I can call four of my warriors to staff this guard post so we can go inside, but if your octet can safely perform the duties of the hand I would call, you and I can enter the compound to observe the head count. Unless you require the protection of your honor guard from the soft ones once inside.”

Bam! That was a double slight delivered in as polite a manner as possible for a Krall, which hit at both the octet, and Telour. The inference that an octet of elite Graka honor guards might not be the equal of a hand of ordinary Tanga guards provoked snarls from those behind Telour. The second slam was suggesting that Telour might need them to defend him against the non-aggressive soft Krall prisoners inside the compound.