Koban: Rise of the Kobani (25 page)

After five minutes of shooting, one of the transport sections exploded violently. A plasma beam Dillon was using to destroy its rooftop cannon ruptured its fusion bottle. The exploding star hot plasma threw a number of fragments against the Mark.

Mirikami halted the fun. “OK, cease fire. I don’t want the Mark’s outer skin damaged. That would hurt our stealth capability.”

He looked at Longstreet, who had been coordinating their liftoff with General Nabarone’s aide. “It’s getting dark, and the flashes must have been seen. We are ready to lift when the defense forces are ready for us.”

Longstreet nodded, and said, “Major Caldwell, we are ready to lift.” He paused a moment, then gave Mirikami a thumbs up. “We’ll be airborne shortly, Sir.”

Mirikami tapped the console button that initiated the main thruster, and automatic attitude controls. The entire flight had been programed into the seldom-used Krall automatic flight control systems. Seat of the pants Krall style flying would be a bit hazardous this trip, at low altitudes.

The Mark lifted easily on its column of fire, and at a half mile, it eased over into a track directly towards a battle front, where human forces were bombarding a section of the Krall line that had been quiet. As they did, Mirikami and Thad opened the ports on two of the plasma cannons, and used the zoom feature on the appropriate view screens to spot the multiple green flares that marked their various targets.

As they approached the flares, only visible from the air, they started firing. They were rewarded by several secondary explosions. They passed beyond the dummy targets, and suddenly there were radar indications of inbound atmospheric missiles, rising over the distant horizon. The ship entered its programmed gyrations and evasion maneuvers, and fired “ineffective” laser beams that failed to knock down the missiles.

Passing over a range of hills and ridges on the other side of Novi Sad, the ship dropped to within a few hundred feet of the surface. This was a known blind spot in Krall radar coverage from the territory they held. The four seeker missiles plunged down into that radar black hole after their prey.

Krall, and human observers in Novi Sad, saw a brilliant flare of light in the sky, followed by a booming explosion. The humans celebrated the downing of the clanship, announcing it between various command posts by radio. The Krall wondered what suicidal clan had sacrificed their clanship, just to halt a human offense that was sure to have failed in any case.

Remaining in the radar shadow of the hills, the Mark left a trail of rattled windows as it streaked supersonic over the horizon, still stealthed, and at low altitude. Two hundred forty miles ahead, it lifted slightly to hover briefly in a vertical attitude. Mirikami was in full control again, and he set the Mark down in an extinct volcano’s crater, with at least a half mile to spare on each side, after reaching the bottom of the two thousand-foot deep pit.

As soon as the thrusters cut off, steel cables were drawn tight that had been pulled aside for the landing. They now supported the rings on hastily rigged sheets of canvas that were ran out over the Mark, and draped to make it appear as if there were a seven hundred- foot central mound in the old crater basin. Paint crews were promptly finishing the mottled spray job they had started two hours before, to match the canvas color with the red, gray, and brown sides of the crater walls. By sunrise, only a detailed comparison of the old crater would reveal the new mound.

Now the negotiations could start, with the Kobani holding the most valuable assets, themselves and the secret to activating Krall equipment for study, and their easy to grant needs. General Nabarone and Colonel Trakenburg were each falling over themselves to offer the most help, in exchange for the treasure trove of Krall intelligence. They were both flying to the crater site to meet them.

A soon as Ethan and the other three TGs were safely ensconced in the best modern med labs Nabarone could find for them, Thad pulled out his “shopping list” and marched down the Mark’s ramp with Mirikami, Dillon, and Sarge. It was trading time.

It was actually welcome home time for an hour. Nabarone had flown there in his mobile command post aircraft, and the wide-bodied vertical lift capable, but winged craft had a modest sized conference room with a full bar, right next to the communications section. There was also a small kitchen, a chef, and a limited menu that included real steak, from actual beef! It was good to be a planetary command general, with all of its perks.

Male hugging, shoulder pounding, back slapping action between the two old friends lasted several minutes. Trakenburg was left out of this reunion celebration, but was mollified when he remembered that Captain Mirikami was the actual leader of Greeves’ group, and he had never known Nabarone. He promptly started to cultivate a relationship with the small man, only to find the ground a bit harder to plow than he expected.

“Captain, I suppose it’s a relief to be back near Hub society, and out of the woods, so to speak.”

Mirikami answered frankly. “Colonel, we intend to maintain a respectful and discrete distance from the Planetary Union and Hub worlds. If we can’t stay in the shadows, we won’t be around to help fight this war. We are not here to socialize or play politics. We know we have something to offer that you can’t get anywhere else, and which the human race needs desperately. We offer a possible way to win this war.”

Taken aback, Trakenburg stared at the smaller man. “Pretty sold on yourselves aren’t you? With a bunch of untrained kids.”

Mirikami gave him a penetrating look in return. “Using weapons forcibly taken from the Krall, we have stolen three clanships away from them, all in perfect working condition, and we took a fourth ship by an assault you witnessed, which we left a disabled wreck. How many Krall clanships, in twenty years of war, have the PU Army or the Navy captured intact, or successfully assaulted?”

The colonel
bobbed his head and conceded. “Point made.” Then what he’d just heard fully registered. “You said you have captured
three
clanships?”

“Yes. It didn’t seem wise to land here with all of our eggs in one basket. We stopped at K1 enroute to Poldark, and took two more from there. They were not so heavily guarded, sitting on their own turf. I don’t believe your spec ops, the Army, or the Navy have managed to set foot there since the Krall took over. We were in and out before they knew we were there, using this same bunch of untrained kids.” He rose and walked over to share a drink with Thad, Dillon and Nabarone.

Reynolds, who had been sitting at the table near them, grinned over his glass of brandy. “Full of surprises isn’t he? Expect more.” He too went over to join his friends.

Nabarone was still catching up with Thad’s life. “Three kids you say? Sybil eventually married a man that runs a large construction company, and they signed the line for two children, and spent ten years together. My sister stayed away from military men after you vanished, and particularly after the war started. Didn’t want that pain of loss again. I wish I could tell her, but we need to keep all of you under wraps. Your stories are exactly what the media would pounce on as great news for a change, and spoil everything in their feeding frenzy to get details.”

Thad glanced at the pallor and decline in fitness of his formerly gung ho XO.  “Henry, I’m not surprised you never found a woman that could tie you down for long. You were married to the Militia before and the PU Army now, I think. Sarge here knocked me over with a feather when I heard you were a PU general. How did
anyone
talk you into that? You were as staunch a Hub conspiracy theorist as Poldark had. You were certain they would try to take us over one day.”

He grimaced. “Hell. They did!
Mike Boldovic, who gave up the presidency to become our first Colony governor after we voted to join the Union, blackmailed me into accepting the planetary commander’s job. President Stanford used me to take over Poldark for her. The old lady was a better leader than I gave her credit for, but the near destruction of Rhama, and two major Navy fleet defeats was too much political baggage. If she had listened to the Army instead of the Navy, she could have had another term.” He seemed to think on that a moment.

“Seeing how the war went after that, another term for her, even if she had spent the fleet’s money on ground troops would only have kicked the Krall offensive into higher gear a few years sooner. It’s what the lizards wanted anyway.” He shook it off.

“OK. Enough reminiscence for now. What in hell can we do to help you help us? I know some of what you need, and a little of what you have to trade. I’ll tell you outright, in a piss poor way of bargaining, that after what I saw of the recordings from Frank’s spec ops teams, that you will get what you need. Even if we can’t come out and publicly ask the PU government for the money. What I’ve heard that you want so far is a pittance to what you are worth to us.”

Trakenburg was on his way over to join them, and cringed inwardly at his first name being tossed out so casually. He maintained a more formal presence within his own unit than did Nabarone, with his raised-from-the-ranks attitude of a former private in the Militia.

He also didn’t like the give-away-the-farm position before he really knew what these people wanted, what it would cost them, and what else they had to offer. He didn’t have long to wait.

Mirikami latched onto one item Nabarone just mentioned. Money. “General, I presume gold and platinum are still precious enough metals to use for cash exchange into credits?”

That brought him up short. “Certainly, either one. Why?”

“We have roughly forty-eight tons combined, of those two metals in one of our storage holds. Our heavy gravity world has an abundance of heavy metals. If that doesn’t cover all of our expenses, we can get a great deal more. And we have access to millions of tons of high quality rare earth elements that are always in demand for electronics.”

Nabarone, seeing Trakenburg’s pleasantly surprised expression as he approached, knew he too had been worried about how to pay for what might be needed from their respective budgets. They had relatively generous budgets in this time of war, to be sure, but their expenditures were accountable to Parliament, and to the High Command’s staffers and auditors.

Seeing that money was not as great an issue for them as it might have been a moment ago, Thad pulled out his list. “Henry, I have some notes that are guidelines, but here is the gist of our needs.

“Training. I have tried to teach our youngsters a bit about how to fight, some tactics and strategy. Only, truth be told, I trained at fighting, but never had an actual enemy to face. Sarge here has taught them what he learned of setting up ambushes and baiting traps, but that isn’t all they need to know.

“We lost six of our people today, which may have been preventable if they had been taught to look at situations with practical training behind them. We want the sort of training that commandos receive, or even Special Ops. Furnished by men that have seen real combat. There are too few TGs to let them die taking individual clanships very often.

“Speaking of that, we have three clanships in our control now. However, only the Mark has the modifications that make it easily usable by humans. It needs more modifications, to allow our AI to actually access some of the ship’s capability, and navigate and fly her directly. The other two ships need similar modifications. The reason we want to keep clanships is for the alien technology that fools the Krall into thinking they are friendly ships. However, we need some human ships as well, with modern AI’s to take back with us.

“We need to make our home world more habitable, to develop the resources we have. We need mining equipment; not just for gold
, and a consumer manufacturing plant we can feed the raw material. Perhaps an orbital factory. Our citizens that want to return to the Hub will have to be kept at home, for the safety of our world, and the safety of humanity. The least we can do is make them more healthy and comfortable.

“The four med labs you brought to us here are a start. We need enough for a population of at least thirty thousand. I don’t know what the typical number would be for that many people. We need some of the specialized nanites Sarge here had in his system when we rescued him. We cloned those, but we know there are other types. They make limb regrowth much faster, and wound repair more complete. I was gratified to hear your doctors say that Ethan’s injuries were relatively minor, because he didn’t need limb regrowth, or organ replacements. With our old equipment, he wouldn’t fully recover.

Dillon interjected here. “We also want the templates for all of the nanite designs, not just the nanites themselves, since we will have to modify them for our uses. There may be some patent rights or copyrights involved.
I don’t care
. We are not out to market what we know or compete with them for profit. By now, you have seen the Flight of Fancy passenger list, and possibly the lab equipment list of what we had on the Fancy. If not, you will look eventually.” He glanced at Mirikami, who nodded. They had discussed this subject years ago.

“I’m listed as Dr. Dillon Martin, a bio-scientist, a generic sounding specialty in biology. What I am is a geneticist, as are over a hundred of our scientists. For sure, we had scientists of other specialties in the biological sciences, lab technicians, and actual medical doctors. However, it was the forbidden science of genetics that enabled us to survive, and now, to be able to do what you’ve seen our TGs do, the so-called Third Generation.” He saw a look of mild surprise on Nabarone’s face, but not on Trakenburg’s. The colonel already knew or suspected, probably because the Heavyside project had looked at genetics.

“The four of us adults are what we have been calling Second Generation, because we, like you, started with typical human genes. Possessing the
normal
hundred and fifty or so human created genetic modifications that were already in our genome by three hundred years ago,
before
the Clone and Gene wars. We four, and thousands more of us on our dangerous heavy gravity planet, have been enhanced with modifications originally used in clones. The strength and endurance mods are the most significant, with heat and cold adaptations that supplement them, and a higher than normal metabolism that the colonel there can see with his IR sensors if we exert ourselves.”

Trakenburg nodded. “Your TGs don’t even have to exert themselves to glow slightly.”

“That is part of why we call them Third Generation. They were born to us with our inheritable gene enhancements a part of them at birth. Our initial enhancements were a requirement for us to survive on our world, and they happened to make children possible.

“Colonel, we know that Heavyside has a gravity of about 1.4 g’s at its surface. That is enough to preclude natural births on the surface of that planet, and even more so at the 1.52 times Earth gravity of our own world.”

He saw the slight head tilt from Trakenburg, confirming his statement.

“Our children were born with Second Generation enhancements, not created as we were, except with a new unused potential also built into their bodies at birth. They have the genes for a parallel organic super conducting nervous system, which later became the source of their extremely fast reactions. They are far faster than the Krall in reaction times, and in thinking.

“Our precursor SG genetic changes are fully compatible with unenhanced modern humans. Any of us SGs can marry and have children with any mate that will have us in Human Space. So can our children, except that they now have manually added genetic enhancements to make use of their superconductor nerves, which are ten times faster than what we SGs have. They also have stronger muscles, and reinforced bones.” He was leaving out mention of the Koban derived genes. This was sketching enough of the process for now.

“Their future children, such as
mine and Thad’s grandchildren, conceived between two TGs, will be True Third Generation, or TTGs, without the need for any man inserted gene modifications to enhance them to the speed and strength the TGs have now.” He wondered if the significance of that assertion had registered. Therefore, he drove the point home.

“Gentlemen, in effect, we have created a new
race
of humanity, but
not a new species
. The TGs are
Homo sapiens
, as are Caucasoid, Mongoloid, Negroid, Capoid, and Australoid, the previous recognized five races of man. To that list, we have added the Kobanoid race, a descriptive word we created. They are not distinguished by skin, eye, or hair color, but by what is inside them, what they can do.

“They could mate and have children with any companion of
any
other race or mixture of races. The result will of course be hybrid children,
as are all mixed race offspring
, which will have some of the traits of the TG parent, some of the other parent. In short, by definition of what a species is, TGs and their own children are completely Homo sapiens, or modern humans, because they can procreate with any other human,” he shrugged.

“That’s the scientific, rational side of the story. The lingering after effects of the Clone and Gene wars attaches a social and legal stigma on what we were required to do to stay alive. Then we knowingly went steps farther, after our experience with the Krall. We did not want our descendants to die at their hands because we refused to make them strong enough to defend themselves.” He paused, and Mirikami picked up the threads.