Koban 5: A Federation Forged in Fire (38 page)

“New Glasgow, a Hub world, is where the next invasion was intended to go when we, with difficulty, convinced your military to conduct Operation Forestall at K1. Now we’ve captured all of the remaining Krall ships in combat, and I’m telling you that we intend to keep them. Anyone that wants them can
try
to take them from us! If you thought the Krall were tough bastards, I suggest you don’t challenge the people that kicked their bony red asses!”

It had been a long time since she’d had anyone speak to her that way, and it caused her to take a step back. She glanced at her fifteen security agents that moved to surround her now, and saw they were tensely watching the two Kobani and the aliens, as well as the crowd around them. She remembered that Agent Ferguson had told her he didn’t have arrest authority in civil matters that did not involve his assigned duties to protect the President, or the Presidential Palace. She saw she had her presidential protection surrounding her, therefore the other thing she needed was some civil law enforcement.

She spotted the closest officer of the Park Police, a corporal, directing the crowd to stay a respectful distance from the VIPs. Half of the forty officers on duty tonight were at the other end of the Mall, and his sergeant was somewhere still enroute with additional officers. This had not been a planned event on the portico, and the Park police had been scattered all around this end of the Grand Mall.

“Officer, I want you to arrest this man.” She pointed at Mirikami.

He gave her his best deer-in-the-headlights stare, and stammered. “Uh,.., I mean, what Mam? Ah…, on what charge?”

Corporal Baldwin had been involved with trying to control the crowd, and he hadn’t really listened to what was said here. He only knew it was an impromptu press conference called by some diplomats. He’d had idiots, mostly news equipment technicians, climbing onto things that were off-limits, and wading through public fountains to provide the best support they could to their on-air reporters, when earbuds suddenly failed, microphones quit working, or cameras somehow overheated.

Obviously, the formally dressed man he was asked to take into custody hadn’t tried to assault the President. He knew that had to be true, because the man was still standing upright, and her heavily armed security detail hadn’t moved to subdue him. He knew he had to respect diplomats, and that they had immunity from arrest and prosecution; that was part of his training, but a corporal didn’t know a diplomat from a hole in his shoes until they showed him their credentials. He did know that the president damn well outranked his police chief, but in two years on the Park police force, he’d never had any high-ranking politician even speak to him before tonight.

   The only weapons Park Police were issued were collapsible billy sticks and nerve Jazzers. Hub worlds didn’t risk the occasional death of their normally peaceful and civil citizens with the use of tasers, or even projectile weapons loaded with rubber bullets. The man the president pointed to was standing right next to the same big beast he’d seen him petting, when he introduced it a short time ago. That talking predator looked like it could probably take down and
eat
an elephant from the Park Zoo.

Where in hell is my sergeant?
He asked himself, looking around desperately for anyone of higher rank he could defer too.

Mirikami, also startled by her instructions was baffled.
What does she think she’s doing?

He knew the Vienna Convention, the diplomatic model the PU had borrowed when it formed its interstellar government after the social Collapse three centuries ago. That document gave him diplomatic immunity, described under at least two of its Articles.

Mirikami spoke to her coolly. “The corporal asked a good question Madam President. On what charge? Unlike you, he’s probably aware that I have diplomatic immunity as a member of the Galactic Federation’s mission, which you personally approved for our visit. Even if we have not formally recognized one another, we came here under diplomatic protections. I’m the Federation military attaché, thus covered by that immunity. In addition to that, I’m married to our prospective ambassador, so I’m also part of her family. Covered again.”

Medford hadn’t known about the marriage, but her words to the officer had gone out over the airwaves live, and the eager reporters were muttering sotto voice to their audiences about the developing tense standoff.

Oswald abandoned all hope of leaving his job quietly now, on his own terms with little public notice. He could not stand here and not furnish his boss the advice expected from a Secretary of State. Even though he was certain she wouldn’t like what he would tell her, particularly in front of the cameras, the ground where she foolishly chose to pick her fight. He would try to salvage his own reputation anyway.

“Madam President, if Mister Mirikami,” he carefully avoided using the title Captain, since she had exploded over that reference previously, “is the husband of Ambassador Fisher he would be protected under Article 10 of the adopted Vienna Conventions, and he certainly is protected under Article 7 as a member of the staff for their mission. Nevertheless, by our rights under Article 9, we can legally declare him persona non grata, and order him to depart Planetary Union territory.”

Medford wasn’t having any of that. “I don’t think that piece of paper should permit a war criminal, complicit in the genocide of our citizens, to escape justice. Not in the Planetary Union while I’m President.”

Mirikami nodded to his wife. Maggi had predicted this assertion might be what Medford would consider an allegation that would gain her the most public support. Their genetic mods violated PU laws, but that was done outside of the PU borders. They had not harmed anyone in the PU, and they had now clearly provided lifesaving benefits to everyone in Human Space. They had a rebuttal in mind that Medford couldn’t have anticipated.

“Madam President, I don't hear you placing any blame for the attacks on Meadow, Bootstrap, and Pittsburg II on the Krall. Specifically, why not blame the Krall leader that planned it, ordered it done, and was actively preparing to do it again. Tor Gatrol Telour, the Krall supreme war leader.”

“He
will
be held to account, if we can capture or kill him. The Kobani, under your leadership, forced his hand by your provocations. Billions died as a result.”

Shaking his head he said, “Telour used the planet buster, as you called it, when the war wasn’t going his way, and he fully intended to use that weapon again, to teach humanity to not fight back so hard. They wanted to slowly exterminate us at their preferred pace. I know his thoughts.”

“I guess we are supposed to take your unfounded word for that?” She laughed cynically.

“Perhaps you would believe it firsthand, from Telour.” He mentally alerted Thad and Sarge.

“I doubt he’ll be so cooperative as to support your lies.”

“Why don’t we ask him?” He waved his hand at an open area behind the line of Federation representatives.

A tall gray box abruptly appeared there, as the power chords from Greeves and Reynolds were disconnected from the oversized stealthed case. They had carried it up the steps earlier, walking in the wide spacing between the Torki and rippers.

Mirikami walked over to the six-foot high container, with a four-foot-by-four-foot square base. He used his foot to snap four catches open at the bottom on each side and stepped back. As if by magic, the entire upper section lifted smoothly from its base. The levitation coming courtesy of the two unseen men in armor, who then set the cover down behind the prisoner.

There were gasps as legs, torso, and finally a pair of glowing hate filled eyes were uncovered. It took a moment for the realization to sink in that the Krall was tightly secured in what appeared to be a very heavy-duty motorized chair. He was bound at ankles, wrists, elbows, chest, and neck by heavy gleaming alloy bands, two inches wide and an inch thick. In addition, there was a heavy open wired mask fitted over the tooth-filled muzzle, which was bolted to the high metal back of the chair, preventing the warrior from turning its head or thrusting it forward.

Telour’s eyes were darting around, taking in everything he could see as he built a mental battlefield map, so he could act and move even with his eyes closed, should an opportunity arise. He didn’t expect to escape, but dying covered with enemy blood was acceptable.

A number of details drew his immediate attention. There were fifteen short-barreled laser and plasma rifles trained on him by non-Kobani humans, both males and females, wearing similar colored clothing that did not seem like human military uniforms. Their bearing and focus on him definitely appeared to reflect military training, but their scent, the way they moved, and tension in their stance proved these were ordinary humans, because a Kobani always seemed calm and relaxed. They had moved to surround and protect a frightened looking human, a female from her scent, who had tightly bound head threads. Hair, as humans called the useless decorative growths. He surmised this was the human leader, whom he’d been able to hear, and he wasn’t impressed.

Of course, he’d been able to scent the cursed odor of Mirikami all along, as well as that of three former slave races. The smell of two Raspani nearly made his mouth water. He was disgusted beyond measure with the nutrient gruel they had piped directly into his two stomachs since his capture. The sharp scent of the rippers surprised him, since they were outside the ship, and he’d not expected them to be present among Earth humans.

The container, in which they had placed him and his imprisoning wheeled device just before he left the ship, circulated external air for him. The box also wasn’t sound proofed, and he’d been able to hear much of what was said outside. His efforts to snarl, to utter a scream, or even to speak, to try to disrupt the humans around him in any way, had all been thwarted. At first, his disability was due to the effects of the drug that had been given to him. The drip tube with nutrients that also delivered the drug had been removed, long enough ago that full feeling had returned to his limbs. He was certain he could now stand and fight if not held so tightly.

When he’d attempted to make any sounds as he was being carried in the box, electrodes embedded in his throat, attached to nerves in his vocal chords had sent paralyzing shocks into the muscles there. He could make heavy breathing sounds, but a small computer in the wheeled chair prevented him from making audible sounds. The shocks were painful, but for the satisfaction of disturbing the humans and insulting them, the pain would have been endured. Unfortunately, the electrical shocks sent the muscles for speech into knotted paralysis for long seconds after each attempt.

He could squirm in his seat a bit, flex his fingers and toes and extend his talons, such as they were. The latter felt shameful because they had trimmed them to blunt nubs. When he’d grasped at the humans and pushed out the rounded ends of his finger talons, before being placed inside the box, they had snorted loudly and derisively in Krall humor. He wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction now. He knew he was surrounded by normal humans. Perhaps a careless one would be stupid enough to come too close.

He could easily crush an ordinary human’s hand and pinch it completely off if they came close enough for him to get a grip. A Kobani’s hard bones would barely flex, and they might squeeze back and break his fingers or a hand in retaliation. The broken bones in both his arms had taken days to heal strong enough to move them without pain. The bones were now adequately self-repaired, and he hoped he’d find a chance to demonstrate that.

Mirikami removed any doubts for the observers as to which Krall this was. “Madam President, Gentle Ladies and Men of Earth, and the News media, I present to you, Tor Gatrol Telour, the war leader of all the Krall clans.” He used his Comtap to send the radio command to the simple AI that controlled the chair, to disable the vocal suppression system. Telour wouldn’t even know it was deactivated until he tried to speak.

Mirikami saw the wide-eyed expression on Medford’s face, and recognized her sudden concern. She feared that her indirect dealings with the Krall war leader would be revealed. She wasn’t sorry she’d offered to trade Mirikami’s people in exchange for Telour withholding use of the planet buster again. Far from it. Although, her actions to sacrifice them and their families to the Krall could be seen as justification for the Kobani again attacking K1.

Secretly dealing with the Krall and offering human lives in trade to an enemy that accepted no truces, and showed no mercy, wouldn’t present her in a favorable light or as a strong leader, regardless of her motives.

In a pretense of good manners, Mirikami grasped the back of Telour’s left hand, and introduced Medford to him. “Tor Gatrol Telour, leader of all the Krall, I present to you President Erthrid Medford, the leader of the Planetary Union.”

In a fast mental exchange, he said directly to Telour’s mind, “After I give you to her, my public dispute with her will end, and I will have my status restored.” He knew the concept of earning status would resonate with the Krall.

“Your quiet execution by her will be even less honorable than the death of a disgraced berserker warrior. The false and disgraceful agreement she thought she had made with you will remain her secret. Speak the truth here and I will grant you a Death Challenge. Your voice is restored.”

Telour’s hate-filled eyes remained locked on Mirikami when the human backed several steps away. He tested his voice. It sounded much like a snarl as he started speaking, but his Standard was understandable. “Human clan leader Medford, a Krall war leader is not bound by honor to keep an agreement with a weak prey animal such as you. If the death ship below and behind you had obeyed my commands, your home world, and all of these animals standing on it would today be dead meat floating among the molten lumps of this planet, as they orbited your star. I only agreed to speak of this because Mirikami has offered me an honorable death by combat with him. I don't care what stupid, stinking animals like you think, or want to know.”