Koban 4: Shattered Worlds (26 page)

As it happened, they would have been safer out fighting with the other five crews from their squadron, rather than taking a break in a quiet warehouse a half mile from the fighting. The ragged front suddenly caught up to them, and they weren’t ready.

As the far wall exploded inward in seven places, leaking Krall, Branko grabbed Stan and pulled him around the side of their gun cart, as the other six gunners either froze, or futilely drew pistols or raised plasma rifles. They wouldn’t have time to concentrate fire on even one warrior to bring it down, let alone seven. Escape or a tri-barrel gun was the only hope for a very lucky crew. Branko wanted it to be his.

Rapid headshots from the Krall eliminated three people in seconds. They were the ones that managed to raise weapons, but never lived to pull a trigger. Malvy managed a plasma bolt truncated scream before she suffered what actually proved to be a merciful death.

The other three gunners, slower to react had the misfortune of lost limbs that were cauterized as they were burned away by multiple bolts. The warriors, mindful of Telgrad’s injunction to take some of the human’s alive if possible, killed only three in the hopes they were not the ones that Telgrad wanted. The bonus status point would be nice, but pissing off the sub leader might not be good for your own long-term reproductive hopes.

Telgrad instantly saw the two humans that ducked around the spotted gun cart, showing better sense than to try a shootout with seven Krall. He was confident they were the more experienced fighters, aware of their limitations. He saw the five small Krall shapes pasted on the side of the gun’s open clamshell, and assumed these were the human equivalent of status points. These two would be worth even more points than he first believed.

“The two behind the gun truck with black spots are mine. You can divide the other six between you.” Six prey and six warriors should work out fairly, but if any warrior wanted to risk a challenge from clan mates by claiming a second kill, he could do that. It was of little concern to Telgrad.

Firing under the gun cart at their feet wouldn’t be of use, because the tracks would block the shots. He realized the open dome of the gun’s cover was rotating to shift the clamshell opening to the side. One of the animals might get inside, and bring the weapon on line. They could fire it from outside using the helmet link if the gun was manually switched on. He commenced a hard run to the side, to place a line of roof support beams between him and the gun, as he worked his way closer.

Suddenly, he saw the far side door of the front compartment swing open, and knew the driver was attempting to enter. He fired a left handed plasma bolt through the left side gun slit to hold him back a moment, and removed a grenade from his belt with his right hand, his next to last one of eight. Thumbing the timer once, he held it a moment, then threw it over the top of the cab of the vehicle. It detonated exactly as it passed over the top, precisely where intended.

If the humans had failed to don their helmets, which they had carried under their arm as they went around the back of the gun cart, the blast might kill them, and he’d lose his fun. A bolt fired at him from around the front of the cab proved the driver was still alive. The bolt was on target for his chest, but Telgrad had seen the barrel protrude just before it fired. Human plasma weapons no longer advertised when they were about to fire, but he had time to twist his torso so the bolt struck at a glancing angle. He fired back hoping the tip of the barrel might stay exposed, and thus be damaged.

The gun’s tip was withdrawn just as he fired, so he pulled his last grenade and threw it hard, directly at the same rifle slit he’d fired into a moment ago. He was annoyed when it clinked on the edge, but passed through anyway. He was only three leaps away, and he nearly missed that easy throw. The detonation knocked the driver out of the cab, when he apparently was trying to crawl inside. His stunned form flew backwards, and lay exposed on the floor where Telgrad could kill him if he chose.

Instead, leaving the easy target for later, he sought any sign the main gun had been activated. It was aimed in the same direction, almost vertical, as they often were set when parked. He had maintained a battlefield awareness of what the rest of his warriors were doing, via quick glances and use of external speakers to hear their comments. They were studiously staying away from the prey he had claimed, and were closing on the screaming three survivors (alive so far) who were too slow to react and now were doomed to a long and painful death. By watching his warrior’s helmets, he knew they were also watching him and his prey. Unlike the human helmet visors, Krall warriors would not tolerate anyone “stealing” their view of a battlefield, because that could convey some advantage to a competitor for status points. However, he realized they kept looking at a place well behind the gun cart he was approaching. He’d like to know what the animal was doing, but if he asked one of his warriors for information, he’d have to share the kill.

The prey couldn’t climb up into the clamshell opening without being exposed, so Telgrad was on his final leap to reach the front of the little transport. He decided that he’d push off the driver’s compartment, and hurtle up over the back and fire down on his target, intending to leave him alive.

As he pushed off the driver’s cab to jump high, his six hundred pounds of muscle and armor shoving down on the front, the back of the cart lifted slightly. He had his rifle ready in his left hand, and his right gauntlet and metal talon tips ready to grasp his prey as he dropped down. Only his target wasn’t in view behind the gun cart. There wasn’t room to for him to have ducked under the skirt around the tracks. Where was he?

Then the reason for his warriors looking well behind the gun cart was clear. Just as he had used the line of roof supports to shield his approach, the human had ran in the exact opposite direction, using the obscuring presence of the same two foot wide support beams. He was now two supports away and almost to the open door they had driven through to enter this structure. The enemy was obviously using his visor and that of his friend’s to keep track of Telgrad. He stepped sideways to put the last support between him and his pursuer as he continued to run.

Moving to his left to get a clear shot and to keep the enemy he already had down and stunned in sight, he was shocked to find that his second prey had not kept running. He had stopped and already had his rifle sighted on Telgrad face as he came into view. Telgrad, faster than a human could pull a trigger, instantly dropped to his left and fired as he fell. The prey’s bolt struck him in his right shoulder, exactly where his helmet had just been. His own instinctive shot was also accurate, but the enemy didn’t move fast enough. He died as his faceplate melted and flesh and gray matter vaporized.

Telgrad blocked the pain of the heat through the heavier armor of the top of his shoulder, and cursed the fact that his most desired target had escaped his vengeance. The dead animal was the gunner who had killed his octet member. He leaped back to his feet and whirled to close with the slowly recovering driver. All of the anger and hatred he felt towards artillery, and these gunners that acted in partnership with that shameless way of fighting, would be directed at the one live victim he had at his disposal. This one would have to last twice as long. 

Perhaps the animal could explain why there were no massed forces facing this major assault, nor any animals living in the nests they had passed this morning before reaching this equally abandoned industrial area. It was not the strong level of resistance previous assaults had encountered, where any step into human territory was contested by what many clan leaders were calling the most worthy enemy yet met.

Nabarone, observing the fighting from Admiral Adriana Bledso’s flagship, had another technological gift to offer to the navy. “Admiral, when my wing of Shadow fighters gets involved with ground support, I think you’ll want some of these stealth space planes for the navy, they are variations of your SP-9’s. You can convert one of your Starfires in a week to use the new stealth coating.

“The breakthrough in the skin covering goes beyond mere stealth, however. It makes the surface highly resistant to laser and plasma fire, and it’s at least as good as what the Krall use on single ships, and better than the coating on their clanships. Not only are they difficult to detect by our systems, the Krall can’t spot them very well either, until they get close. You would have improved defense against multi-spectrum laser hits, like those from the triple spectrum laser pods you have on this dreadnaught. Moreover, they will receive a power boost for their existing weapons, or additional ones, as a side benefit of a Trap field system, which powers the new stealth coating. This is similar to the miniaturized Trap fields built into that sample body armor I was given. Another bit of alien technology.”

Nabarone had furnished Bledso and his immediate superior, General Cadifem, with a sample of some new body armor, and a video of the destroyed Krall orbital station where the Eight Balls had been constructed. They were seen being destroyed, using the same human designed rail guns that every human world now had in orbit for its own defense. Nabarone informed them his clandestine contacts told him that the new stealth body armor was designed by previously freed members of the race of crabs, called Torki, shown in the recording. This knowledge had been a lot to swallow in just a week, with the Krall preparations on Poldark nearing an obvious trigger point for the assault he predicted was coming.

The Admiral was stunned to learn there was an unknown force of human fighters that had somehow made contact with Krall slaves, and were receiving the benefit of their advanced technology. Another alien species, not shown in the video, were described by an unidentified young man wearing the new type armor. He said a second slave race of the Krall, called the Prada, was also helping humanity. Both races, he claimed, needed to keep their cooperation a secret to protect the millions of their people still slaves, safe from Krall retribution. She was then positively shocked to learn that this unknown band of human fighters had managed to pull off an attack on the only production site of the Eight Balls, deep in Krall controlled space, and claimed they had destroyed all of the weapons the Krall had in reserve. And they could make no more of them.

Bledso, aware of past friction caused by Nabarone’s personality conflicts with his superiors, looked this next surprise gift horse right in the mouth. “Henry, how did you manage a major research and development project like that, while your army has been fighting just to hang on? I don't think I’ve heard of such a budget item in briefings I’ve received from Mil.”

She looked towards her Army counterpart, Lieutenant General Mildred Carla Cadifem. It was her middle name, the same one Nabarone had assigned to his female voiced AI system, which had probably contributed to a soured relationship with this Army superior.

Cadifem’s right eyebrow arched as she looked at Nabarone. “This is as much news to me as it is you Adriana. Henry, how did you squeeze enough R and D money out of the equipment budget I gave you? Did your clever female voiced AI manage to squeeze out some extra credits for you?”

That was the third barbed reference to his AI, which now had a different name, a gender-neutral name of Frances. That name in turn had been a new barb aimed at the now deceased Colonel Frank (Frances) Trakenburg. Nabarone now was considering yet another name for his AI, after the gallant combat death of the irritating speck ops officer.

“General Cadifem,” he started formally with a bow, and for the second time offered an apology. “I am sorry if I offended you in the past. I had no idea it was your middle name when I named my AI. The name Carla, no longer assigned to my AI as I said in my earlier apology, was used in tribute to an older woman with whom I had an uncontracted liaison in college.” A true statement, except for calling it a
tribute
to the former wealthy benefactor, who had made him feel sexually abused as a young man without money. This was the first time he’d offered that explanatory detail in his apology.

Bledso still wanted to hear Nabarone’s answer on the space planes. “We’ve had some brilliant Hub scientists working on Krall technology. They haven’t fully broken that particular secret yet, and the sample armor you gave us has only just reached them. You make it sound like your people have gone a bit farther than simply figure it out. That takes time, research, and money. How long did you hold onto this information?”

“Admiral, with all due respect, not all of the brightest minds reside on Hub worlds. Out on the Rim, and in New Colonies, we find that being subjected to imminent invasion, and deaths of those we love, tends to focus our attention and extend the number of hours some researchers are willing to work on a problem. However, this technology is also new to me, and I passed it along as soon as it was presented to me.

“I must however, correct one misconception. They are not ‘my people.’ Some scientists and engineers out here, certainly not any working on Poldark, have evidently managed to reverse engineer that technology with alien guidance, although they admit to lacking a full theoretical understanding. With trial and error experiments, something that the staid and incurious Krall never seemed to try, these people have found ways to improve on ancient technology the Krall had stolen.”

“Who did it?” She wanted to know.

“Until the patent rights and proprietary production techniques are protected under Planetary Union laws, the developers will apply the secret process for us to use, but only on the condition of their anonymity. They say they will not share the detailed knowledge because they don't have the quantum theory fully developed. Historically, Hub worlds have rarely shared advanced technology with Rim worlds, preferring to sell their products to us at high prices, rather than to license companies out here to build them ourselves, and thus avoid technology transfer. This is the same principle in reverse. They will furnish the benefits of their new technology with the PU military, but not the knowledge of how it is done. If we don’t know who they are and where they’re based, the technology can’t be confiscated.”

He wasn’t going to reveal that Torki and Prada aliens were the actual source. Rim worlds protecting their business interests was something Hub worlds would understand, having done it in reverse for centuries.

Cadifem remained skeptical. “They built their own SP-9’s? That certainly indicates some sharing of corporate Hub technology, or stealing of corporate trade secrets.”

He shook his head. “Nope. You will find as I did this week, that seventy two of the most basic models of an SP-9 was purchased from one or more of the manufacturing plants on the core worlds of the Hub. They now have been converted for stealth, and armed by the buyers. I tried to trace the chain of custody of the space planes myself, but these people, like most Rimmers, are closed mouth when they have backdoor dealings with Hub worlds. It seems there aren’t any PU restrictions placed on buying unarmed high performance space planes. I wasn’t privy to the sales details, and I was only offered the use of the space planes and their pilots if I didn’t probe too deep into where they came from.”

He knew these were purchased by Mike Haveram, using contacts based on several Rim worlds, and paid for with untraceable funds acquired by black market sales of precious metals and gems mined on Koban. Even if the Rim world intermediaries were found, they couldn’t give Haveram to the government, because they didn’t know him by that name, nor know where he was based. Bledso was inevitably going to think Mirikami’s group was a Rimmer faction.

“It isn’t completely free. I have to furnish them with fuel and ammunition, and field support for their pilots.”

“Why are they so generous to let you use them that cheaply? In fact, where did they find trained pilots?”

Nabarone shrugged. “They say they need to test the ships and pilots in battle, and Poldark provides the only large scale live testing available. I elected not to look at this gift horse too critically, since your navy Starfires have rarely been of any benefit to my troops.” That barb was a complaint Bledso often heard from every planetary commander.

He shifted the questioning back on her. “As for trained pilots, have you kept track of mercenary hires? Do you know what your retired navy pilots are doing now? What about washouts that made it part way through flight training, and still wanted to fly? Admiral, I’m not going fabricate an answer for you. If the seventy two planes of this three squadron wing prove to be inadequate, and are poorly flown, then I’m absolutely no worse off than I have been without any air support at all.”

He hadn’t said he didn’t
know
the answer to the question about trained pilots. These pilots were mostly new spec ops graduates from Heavyside, with shiny new Kobani TG2 mods, who had been allowed to Mind Tap a retired and disabled, but talented navy aviator that could use the large sum of cash he was offered. After a bit of flight practice, they improved on their new skills, and passed them on to other TG2 pilot candidates. This made for a cadre of flight capable pilots that could increase faster than the number of space planes available for them to fly. If they performed as well as he hoped, then he’d soon be asked how these rookies flew better than experienced navy pilots did. Having Mind Tapped with one of the new pilots, Nabarone knew he could also fly one. He wished he could be down there flying one of the craft when they joined the fight, instead of out here kissing ass and acting brilliant.

Feeling better than he had even when young, Nabarone had been on guard not to move his new Kobani body too smoothly, and to limp on his supposedly recently healed broken leg. Everyone seemed to move in slow motion to him, and think so slow. He almost wanted to finish their sentences, a trait that wouldn’t endear him with them if he did that.

Hell, he didn’t want endearment. He wanted them to believe him about what the Krall were going to do, about the next invasion. Then he might convince Bledso to commit her forces to the fight
before
it moved to the Hub worlds. Nabarone knew it wasn’t Bledso’s personal reluctance to fight the Krall, it was a political decision imposed on the navy, which lingered after the previous disasters, despite how well Admiral Mauss had fought.

“Henry, when are we going to see these Shadow fighters in action? Your armies have fallen back quickly enough that they have drawn the leading Krall elements well beyond the original front line defenses. The feeds from surveillance satellites, before the Krall shoot them down each time, shows they have been slow to move their defensive plasma and laser systems forward, not keeping pace with where the front really is now. They have good coverage five miles or so beyond their original lines, but you have drawn them almost ten miles from where they started. Obviously, they expected you to stand your ground and slow the advance while they chewed you up. Now what? You can’t keep up a fighting retreat indefinitely. It’s still a retreat.”

“That was in the briefing I submitted to General Cadifem, Mam. However, three assaults are approaching stronger holding points that we have established. One point is twelve miles east of Novi Sad in some foothills. There will be strong resistance there, with Krall advance forces strung out, operating almost entirely at octet levels, with isolated Dragons that no longer are fighting in coordinated units.

“They have devolved into a pattern of every Krall warrior for themselves. They have no aerial defenses nearby, and because we held back air attacks, their single ships are not flying yet. The Shadow fighters will come in low, right in the middle of a heavy artillery barrage. Ladybugs will be designating Krall targets for them where the octets took shelter. The incoming shells will recognize the fighters, either delaying detonation or deviating away. The same as they do when a ladybug accidentally happens to fall in their target zone.”

“How will the fighters do more damage to them than the smart artillery?” she wanted to know.

“Krall spread out when moving in the open, so a single shell or booby trap doesn’t hit many at once. When they go to ground, they tend to close ranks to wait out the barrage in shelter, and perhaps receive the octet leader’s directions for the next series of movements. We aren’t entirely sure why they do this, but we know they do it often. The ladybugs have left spy bots behind to watch where they hide, and they can laser designate a good target for the space planes, or the tri-barrels can snipe at them if the fighters flush them out of hiding. We have held back some of our new armor penetrating shells for the Dragons. If they pull out of sight, the ladybugs can point out their hiding place to the inbound shells.

“If you suddenly stop their advance, what do you think will be their reaction?”

Clearly, the admiral had not read his action plans in detail. Not surprising he decided. The Space Navy found ground warfare unpleasant and grimy. Their preference was to kill the enemy at a thousand miles with a nice sanitary salvo of missiles, and avoid the debris field after that.

This was a career ground pounder’s own short sightedness of space warfare. Nabarone had not studied the action reports of the two desperate space battles over K1, and the follow up attack when the Krall Eight Balls traced the fleet back to Rhama. Those thousands that died with their ships had not found the experience all so sanitary.