Koban: Rise of the Kobani (48 page)

The new and improved Jakob AI intruded politely. “Excuse me Gentle Men, as I was requested to inform you, General Nabarone’s shuttle has descended into the crater, and will apparently be met by Colonel Trakenburg and Captain Longstreet. My input from the radar system on the crater rim has picked up another shuttle from the direction of the recon team exercise. Carson and Ethan should be landing in about five minutes.”

Mirikami rose out of his Bridge chair. “OK, boys, let’s use our new conference room on the next deck.” They also had two elevator systems as well as the two remaining stairwells (with railings now) on the top decks. The ship was becoming humanly comfortable.

On entering the wooden paneled room, Mirikami instructed the AI to start a pot of Earth coffee, and to direct the visitors to the room with the excessively large twenty-seat ironwood table. It was bolted to the floor, something a Living Plastic table would not have required. However, Nabarone’s largess had spared no expense, even if they had not requested such luxury. At least the general had been forced to concede that the chairs around the table had to be standard acceleration chair/couches, in the event a meeting was interrupted by an unexpected navigational need. Even there, he had provided a more expensive plastic skin that emulated the color of the table. As Nabarone had said several times, “It’s good to be The General.”

It took longer for the brass to arrive than it did Carson and Ethan, who arrived before the coffee was ready. Greeting everyone, Mirikami offered the two young men a cup of the heavenly brew.

“No thanks, Uncle Tet,” they both declined. Mirikami shook his head sadly at the deprived upbringing Koban had forced on the younger generation. They didn’t enjoy many of the new supply of ‘treats” the older generation had missed for so many years. The one exception was that nearly all of the TGs liked peanut butter and various types of jelly. They had never had chocolate bars before either, although chocolate flavoring itself was a favorite now at home.

Mirikami was personally repelled by a new combination, peanut butter and chocolate bar sandwiches, which most of the TGs loved. Dillon was an enthusiastic consumer of this new commodity, and liked his warmed slightly. He ate with the gooey two main ingredients dripping onto his plate as he washed it down with cold milk, and used a finger to scrape up the dripped mixture. Yet, he claimed a refined upbringing on Rhama.

Mirikami relished the
sushi cuisine he had discovered was available from a small town, located not too far from their extinct volcano camp. They even served some of his favorites, imported frozen unfortunately, from the seas of New Honshu, his home world that he had not visited since his mother died over thirty years ago. He convinced Dillon and Thad to try a few dishes, but the uncultured thugs nearly spit the delectable raw fish and Shari onto their plates, halting the act only when the glare from their friend (and Captain) gave them reason to pause. They smiled, holding the partly chewed decoratively rolled tidbits in their mouths, as they both reached for the saké cups. They washed it all down in a single gulp.

After that, the saké seemed to disappear frequently from their cups. Their true misfortune was that the 18% alcohol was metabolized by their gene mod enhancements faster than they could possibly get drunk, so they never lost their sense of taste. Mirikami took fiendish delight in keeping the various dishes coming, while he kept misplacing the bottles of saké.

Today, except for coffee and hard liquor, the latter always needed if Nabarone were visiting, there were no snacks available. They didn’t know what was delaying the three officers, since they had time to have beaten Carson and Ethan here if they had walked directly to the Mark of Koban, which they still only knew as simply named the Mark.

The older men used the time to their advantage, briefing the two TG1’s on what they thought the meeting might be about today. They both agreed that all of the TGs had the impression that the spec ops instructors were envious of where they were going, and what they would be doing. Some openly wanted to go along.

Several days ago, the SGs had participated in an intelligence briefing from the Navy, concerning long-range scout missions that had found a number of Krall inhabited planets, one of which was definitely a production world for clanships. The Navy would have been astonished if they had seen the Mark, a former clanship, which they didn’t, because they met at Nabarone’s headquarters.

Their real shock would have been that the navigation system on the Mark had a record of where every Krall controlled world was located. There were thousands of habitable worlds, many of which were now abandoned and empty of intelligent life, per the Krall’s own claims. The navigation system didn’t know which ones were which, dead or populated. However, there were several candidate worlds for possible raids, besides the clanship producer, to check out with a ship the Krall would not suspect as human crewed.

Mirikami asked any of them if they thought some of the spec ops would be willing to undergo gene mods if offered the chance. They all thought half might accept. At least because of their secret and isolated duty, and the selection process, many of them had few extensive ties to family in Human Space. What they cared about was their risk filled work, their fellow troopers, and leave time with women and booze. Their own physical enhancements and need for secrecy had isolated them from the mainstream population. A Booster Suit couldn’t go on leave with them, and none of them liked doing without the feeling of strength it provided.

While this general discussion continued, Mirikami separated a bit, and asked Jakob where the three officers were.

“Sir, they entered the Dead Zone, where I can’t monitor or see them.” That was a secure room for meetings, where no AI or any external electronic monitoring could penetrate.

Mirikami tugged at his lip. This was apparently something they were springing on Nabarone, before the meeting. Henry wasn’t the biggest fan of Trakenburg, and he was unlikely to object to the Mark’s departure since he knew it was inevitable. Nor should he much care if some of the spec ops wanted to tag along. This extended conversation suggested something Nabarone might object to, or need some convincing. They were already twenty minutes late, and Trakenburg was normally the punctuality freak.

He turned back to the others, only to discover they had become quiet, and were looking at him, as he fingered his lower lip.

“What?”

Dillon asked for them all. “You tell us, ‘oh lip tugging seer.’ You have something on your mind. Do the tardy brass hats have anything to do with your thoughts?”

He nodded. “I’m wondering what they had to tell Henry that took them to the Dead Zone, and made on-the-dot Trakenburg late for a meeting. It has to be something involved to last this long, and Trakenburg apparently couldn’t risk telling Henry before he arrived. It’s taking longer to explain or to convince Henry than expected. I think it must be tied to our departure, but it is more than some spec ops types asking to go along. Henry, to use his usual vernacular, might say ‘I don’t give a damn,’ and tell them to just go ask us.”

“Perhaps they learned where we call home.” Thad offered.

Sarge countered that idea before Mirikami could. “Trakenburg wouldn’t share that information with Henry, even if he knew. He’d keep it for himself, as a bit of knowledge that isn’t valuable now, but could be a bargaining chip later.”

Dillon tried an idea. “Some other secret then. Concerning our gene mods, because we know they have taken samples from all of us. Perhaps they figured out where some genes must have derived from, the hypothetical source.” He was obviously thinking of ripper and raptor genes.

Mirikami shook his head. “Henry has access to a planet load of experts with far better resources to use for that purpose than Trakenburg. It isn’t Henry briefing spec ops right now; it’s the other way around. I’m wondering why the aloof colonel included a subordinate like Captain Longstreet in a briefing of sensitive information to the general, unless Joe was involved, or was required for corroboration. I think Joe is the wild card here. What could he know about, that he’s needed by Trakenburg to brief or convince Nabarone?”

Thad said, “If you’re thinking secrets, then Joe and his men are with us and the TGs every day for training. You already addressed someone accidentally leaking the location of home, and the colonel knows that, he is probably holding onto that information. What other secrets do we have they could have learned? Somebody mention rippers, rhinolo, raptors or moosetodons?”

“Nah,” refuted Sarge. “When I first heard of those they didn’t mean crap to me. They were just words, without a picture of them. Did anyone slip up and bring recordings from home, and even if they did, where do the new animals live? It doesn’t help them find home. Besides, why would Trakenburg bother to tell Henry? They aren’t good buddies.”

“There are other, more intangible pictures they could receive,” offered Carson.

“But we don’t send images, or words, without consciously trying to Tap,” countered Ethan.

“You two can certainly receive them without much effort from anyone not shielding.” Mirikami offered. “Figuring out that our TG1’s have that ability would be a big revelation. Worth explaining to Henry, and discussing what it means and how much we could know about their own plans and secrets. Ethan, Carson, have you seen any hints that Joe or any of his men suspect what you can do?”

“Uncle Tet, per your instructions we don’t Tap them. Not to
send
images for certain, and not even to receive. We respect their privacy. They are not the Krall.” Ethan protested.

Mirikami shrugged. “Mostly that’s true. But receiving happens unintentionally sometimes.” He smiled, not mentioning Kally’s inadvertent encounter with Longstreet.

Carson had the best suggestion. “We send to each other all the time, in group Taps during and after training sessions. How many times have the instructors commented how we learn so fast, that they don’t need to repeat things to us often? We’ve become rather casual about the rings we form for group Mind Taps, pretending they are just part of team building. Captain Longstreet sees us do that all the time, and he’s a sharp, observant man.”

Mirikami took that as a working hypothesis. “That may not be it, but it fits with how they’re behaving, and ranks up there with the sort of thing that secretive Colonel Trakenburg would fear the most. If that’s it, then we want to be ready to handle their questions.”

“You don’t think a denial will work, Sir?” Ethan was feeling a bit of guilt, as one of the TG1’s that may have let the blue rat out of the bag.

“No. We’ll want them to trust us later, and this knowledge will eventually come out anyway. If that’s the issue, I think a full explanation and demonstration is called for, input and output Taps, as well as telling them how we non-Tapping SGs can fool you TG1s, and shield our thoughts. And we definitely know the reverse is true, don’t we?” He winked at the two TG1s, who had hidden far more than their fair share of youthful shenanigans from the older generation.

“What if this
isn’t
what they’re worried about?” asked Thad.

“Then we’ll all be surprised together.”

It was another eight minutes before Jakob informed them that the three men were walking towards the Mark.

****

The six Kobani were standing at the far end of the conference table, sipping various beverages when the three officers arrived. Mirikami smiled and started forward with Thad, when Nabarone, blushing, held out both palms in a push gesture, and said, “No offense, Tet, Thad, but let’s keep a table between us for now, please. Until we conclude the strangest discussion, initiated by the colonel and captain here that I’ve ever had with anyone.

Greeves and Mirikami, not acting surprised, glanced at one another, and stayed at their end of the table. Mirikami had a half smile, observing the acute red-faced discomfort of Nabarone, the embarrassed and guilty look on Longstreet’s face, and the shrewd observer’s penetrating gaze from Trakenburg.

Mirikami half bowed, and said, “We were discussing reasons for your delay, since Colonel Trakenburg is normally such a stickler for punctuality.” A nod to the colonel.

“Frankly, we talked about what the three of you must be saying in private.  I’m not surprised you are behaving a bit reserved.”

Mirikami paused, and added with a sense of mischievousness, “You must have read our minds.”

The stricken and confirming looks on the three officer’s faces was so hilarious, that none of the other six could hold back their laughter. Thad and Sarge were nearly bent over, and Mirikami, highly amused at his own impromptu quip, was leaning on the table with one hand supporting him, as he released an uncharacteristic gale of laughter that almost left him breathless.

Raising a hand towards them, Mirikami, still laughing, tried to speak. “I’m…, sorry. That was mean…,” he laughed some more. “It just came out…, and you looked petrified.” He struggled to get control, but when he looked up at them, he burst out laughing again.

“This isn’t funny,” Nabarone said. “You overheard us somehow, and set us up.” Despite his words to the contrary, he was starting to laugh at what he thought was a joke on him. He shot a look of irritation at Trakenburg, whom he now wondered if he had a funny bone after all, and had planned this. The colonel wasn’t looking at all amused, and his face was red with anger. Longstreet was simply looking puzzled, wearing a half smile.