Koban (11 page)

A muffled whoosh was heard from below, followed instantly by
a slight, ear-popping drop in air pressure. Dillon, his eyes glued to the segmented
view screen, saw several compartments and the cargo hold silently and rapidly fill
with some sort of black smoke or gas. One of the views was apparently from the galley
area directly under them; the gas was coming up the axial stairs. The two corridor
scenes were unchanged except for the rush of people. There was no sign of any smoke
there.

Suddenly two hull-side stateroom doors, one along each of the
two crowded corridors exploded outward, smashing through the throng, striking the
opposite bulkhead in a splatter of red. Those unfortunate to be passing directly
by the doors were battered aside, their crushed and broken bodies rebounding from
the opposite bulkhead with sickening force. Billowing black clouds poured through
the shattered doorways, and moving along the gray edges was a dimly seen figure
on each screen.

Those nearest the explosions in the two corridors began clawing
at one another, trying to stay ahead of the advancing darkness. The unheard cries
of terror were clearly evident on their faces. The unreasoned panic was answered
with gruesome finality.

The back of a woman's head exploded in a spray of red, as the
man running next to her spun wildly and struck the bulkhead, his left shoulder and
arm dangling by connective tissue as he slid to the deck, blood smearing in a wide
red streak. Others, also forgetting the warnings ran harder, and they too began
twisting in violent contortions, as what appeared to be explosive projectiles tore
out of the advancing darkness into their limbs and bodies. The black clouds swept
along over the dead and dying in each corridor, obscuring gore spattered bulkheads
and decks, where men and women, limbs missing or entrails exposed, were obviously
screaming on the quiet screens.

Dillon, watching the carnage in stunned horror, drew in a sharp
breath as one petite figure caught his attention. A woman was standing along one
of the ravaged body strewn corridors, facing the approaching wall of black. She
was standing still, her arms up over her head, palms forward, facing what was coming.
Despite others dying violently around her and behind her, blood splashing her clothes,
she appeared unharmed. Doctor Fisher’s grim face glanced at the camera’s bubbled
dome, and then gazed into the approaching blackness as the cloud swept over her.

 Mirikami, at the first shots, had also leaped toward his console,
uttering a strangled cry. “My God, don't...”, then he choked off the emotional reaction
and watched both scenes with an agonizing intensity. He knew they wouldn’t hear
any calming words he might shout over the din.

Doctor Fisher’s example gave him the thread of salvation he was
seeking. He gave an order. “Jake, repeat the following message on ship wide intercom,
high volume. Start! `People, don’t panic if you see black smoke, the Krall are hiding
in it for their own protection. Stand absolutely still with your hands over your
head. They are shooting anyone that runs. If you surrender with hands high, they
don’t shoot. For your very life, don't panic or run or you'll be killed!’ End! Jake,
repeat it three times, loud!” He could only hope that warning was a fact.

Jake's voice, sounding incongruously calm, boomed throughout
the ship, repeating the warning as ordered.

It was then that Dillon saw a few tendrils of gray rising to
the Bridge from the axial stairwell. “We've got company of our own,” and nodded
toward the stairs.

They were still raising their arms when a blurred figure erupted
from the opening to strike the high ceiling
feet first
, rebound and flip
upright to land almost silently, by the side of the adjacent two elevator columns,
partially using one for cover. The Krall had two deadly looking pistol shaped weapons
trained steadily on them. It uttered no sounds, and made no other threatening move,
but its head was on a rapid pivot, and large black eyes were rapidly scanning the
area. There appeared to be small red pupils set against obsidian black. They burned
with an inner fire as they flashed about the Bridge, seeking something to kill.

Dillon viewed the alien with what he felt was surprisingly clinical
detachment, considering what he had seen on screen, and might be about to happen
to them. It was an exercise he had actually imagined often enough, dreaming of First
Contact with the response team someday. It was more a nightmare now.

The creature was large, an upright bipedal humanoid form, much
as Doushan had described, with hairless looking, faintly scaly skin that seemed
stretched tightly on an over muscled frame. It wore a close fitting black V-necked
body suit that did not fully cover the arms and legs.

Where visible, the skin was grayish red in coloration, except
for a black outlined oval shape, blank inside, visible because of the uniform’s
V-neck. Two utility belts were slung in an X across its broad chest. There were
a number of sealed pockets, and many various attached devices, such as small and
medium bladed weapons under straps. There were two holster-like devices at the hips
for the pistols it held.

Standing over two meters tall, even with the leg crouch it was
maintaining, it alertly watched them. The eyes were set wide apart under a heavy
eyebrow ridge. The head, smallish for that big body, was on a thick elongated neck,
and had a slight bony crest running from just above its brow to disappear over the
top. The eyes were constantly flicking rapidly about the room, the head pivoting
to cover every side. On a barely pronounced muzzle, a lipless slash of a mouth remained
closed, though four vertical slits, in what would be a nasal location on a human
face, flared open and closed as it breathed steadily and slowly. Its torso, particularly
the chest and shoulders, was wider and thicker than a large man’s was, and tapered
to a waist narrow only in proportion to that massive chest. Relatively short, stocky,
and slightly bowed looking legs supported it all.

The arms and legs were jointed similar to a human’s limbs. Dillon
noticed with surprise that its feet were bare, displaying four long, possibly prehensile
toes, each tipped with a short talon.

The arms were thick as well, and actually longer than the legs.
There were short sharp looking spikes on the backside of each elbow joint. It had
large hands gripping the weapons, with three relatively slender looking fingers
and a shorter opposable thumb, all tipped with short talons. Dillon couldn’t tell
its gender, if it had one, though the skintight black garment showed no genital
bulge where it would have on a man.

With an unnaturally swift, yet smoothly graceful motion, it suddenly
slid both guns into the holsters. The Krall still made no sound and remained in
a slight crouch, arms akimbo, clearly poised to spring. There was no sign that it
wanted them to do anything. It seemed to be waiting.

Mirikami, wondering if this could be a translator, decided to
risk communication. “I am Cap....” He instantly froze in mid word as the Krall,
in a veritable blur of motion, drew the left gun and held it rock steady on a point
between the Captain's eyes.

It parted its lips, displaying numerous interlocking dagger shaped
teeth, and snarled a string of low-pitched unintelligible words. Then in broken
but understandable Standard, the words “You are to wait for Harzax Kopandi” was
uttered in deep base notes, almost a growl. “Speak or move, you challenge me to
fight!” The thin lips rippled in an odd fashion as it spoke, and was that a hint
of an eager smile at the end?

Dillon was certain it was risky to anthropomorphize these creatures,
but it seemed to be rather hopeful they would try to resist. It seemed rather lizard-like
in some respects, so assigning human meanings to his expression was a wasted exercise
at this point.

The Krall then holstered the weapon, in that same incredibly
fast smooth motion, and continued its watchful stance.

The three humans continued to stand still, their arms raised.
As several minutes dragged by, Mirikami risked a glance to his right to see the
view screens. He desperately wanted to ask Jake what was happening beyond the eight
views he had available. Unsure what he could do about it, he needed to know if the
killing continued. He could see a lighter shade of gray smoke in the two corridors,
so it seemed to be clearing. No more wisps came up to the Bridge.

He wasn't certain how the Krall would react if he moved, or even
spoke to Jake. A dead Captain was not going to be able to help his passengers, though
he had no idea what he could do for them in any case. Waiting for Jake's first summary
report seemed like an eternity.

When it came, Mirikami and Noreen were sickened. The black smoke
had largely dissipated, and Jake could count for certain forty-four bodies within
sight of video pickups. He noted most were clearly dead, but others were alive and
wounded, and said some were calling for help and trying to move. Six more passengers,
outside the view of the eight selected cameras, were confirmed dead, two via biometrics
because they were still on their couches, the others observed visually from cameras.

The initial flurry of shooting had slowed considerably, with
only four shots recorded throughout the ship in the last minute. It was chilling
to hear Jake’s calm steady voice report that four injured people, pleading for mercy,
had been killed by the Krall.

The only good news was that the majority of passengers were alive
and the killing had been curtailed. Their lack of even an appearance of opposition
had perhaps saved many passengers. The Krall were herding the living into the eating
and lounge areas, and their docility and submission may have tempered the aggression
of most of the Krall. Jake volunteered no specific mention of dead or injured crewmembers
because Mirikami had not asked him to do so.

The three on the Bridge waited in a helpless agony of frustration,
wanting to do something to end the killing and terror for their companions, and
to know what the Krall wanted with them.

Their upheld arms aching, the Krall still in its silent but alert
stance, a long second five minutes passed. In the next summary, the situation remained
grim, but not as horrible as feared. Jake reported only three more deaths. He described
calmly how the fatalities had occurred. There had been no shots fired, and one killing
was by a quick decapitating slash of a blade, for a woman who apparently had stared
at a warrior. The other two were by a simpler and less messy expedient; a quick
one-handed snap of a hysterical woman’s neck, followed by a fist’s crushing blow
to the skull of the man who had dared move to catch her falling body.

They had sixteen “intruders” now, as Jake referred to them. Eight
additional single ships had arrived, docking apparently with the original eight,
and hadn’t needed to cut their own separate entryways. Ten Krall were now with the
crew and passengers, bunched near the centers of the five passenger decks, apparently
two Krall per passenger group. It was a casual display of confidence in their ability
to control so many people with so few warriors.

Jake told them that individual “intruders” were on various decks,
swiftly moving from compartment to compartment, collecting any additional crewmembers
or passengers where they found them. If they found a door locked, a single powerful
kick smashed them in, or were sometimes blasted apart with a single pistol shot.
Made of a strong carbon fiber material, the kicking feats were proof of the alien’s
strength.

From the galley screen, they glimpsed one new Krall coming up
the axial stairwell, pausing for an instant to scan the galley area. Jake finished
his short report to say that a larger radar target had come into range, and was
closing rapidly.

There hadn't been enough time to tell the AI specifically what
to report, and the inability to alter his instructions or ask him questions was
maddening.

Abruptly the Krall watching them stood stiffly upright just as
the second alien sprang lightly over the top of the stairwell, clearing the waist
high rail easily. There was barely a whisper of sound.

This warrior was marginally larger than the first, and it was
wearing a bright blue body suit and similar weapons belt and pistols, but his skin
tone was considerably redder than the first alien’s, much less gray tones.

He looked at the three humans. It lips rippled in that strange
manner as it spoke broken but understandable Standard, showing a brief glimpse of
a sharply pointed purplish tongue, behind yellowish shark’s teeth. “I do not need
your death now, my enemy. Rest, lower your arms and relax.”

The Krall's pronunciation was rapid, heavy on bass frequencies,
but understandable. The three humans lowered their tiring arms with relief.

The new arrival turned to the other Krall. Each seemed to sprout
a small shell shaped appendage on each side of their heads, located slightly lower
than where human ears would be. The little appendages pivoted to cup towards the
other warrior, rather like oval bat ears.

Dillon, who had been studying both aliens, while avoiding a stare,
hadn't seen any sign of external ears previously. Evidently, they had been concealed
below an oval layer of different textured skin, at the sides where a human’s upper
neck would be. He wondered why they had been recessed until now.

Both began mouth and lip movements, as if speaking, but Dillon
couldn’t hear anything. After a few seconds of this, their ears instantly flattened
or withdrew again, leaving a smooth textured oval surface. The original Krall warrior
stiffened and raised his left hand chest high, fingers splayed, and for a brief
instant the four talons extended farther, each about three centimeters long. Retracting
his claws to the shorter talons seen before, the soldier leaped over the stair rail.
He disappeared in a flash of quiet movement.