Koban: The Mark of Koban (3 page)

As the shuttle lifted, he selected a frequency scanner that
permitted him to listen to the large number of frantic human transmissions on
the airwaves. His skill as a translator would now pay dividends.

He halted the scanner and backed up a few channels to listen
to a transmission that sounded more organized than the rest. He suddenly had
armed human targets to seek. The direction and distance was indicated on the
console display, and he pointed with a talon tip to instruct the piloting K’Tal
to go there. Some humans were issuing weapons, and organizing some sort of a
force to fight them. This was excellent.

This was crap! It was cold now in Koban’s northern
hemisphere. Dillon and Thad had spotted a small yak herd moving slowly south, on
a gray day filled with light blowing snow. However, they needed to take four
animals back with them today for the meat. If they hunted from an open hatch of
the airborne shuttle, it meant only one man could shoot, and he would be exposed
to a freezing wind.

If a stampede started, then the next three animals would be scattered
well apart on the snow-covered plain. The herd was moving in the direction of a
rocky knoll sticking up from the snow-covered former semi tropical savanna. The
windblown snow had shown Thad that the rocks were downwind of the yak herd.

Thad proposed that with two shooters lying on the flat top
of the rocky pinnacle, they should be able to drop two yaks apiece at long
range with the .50 caliber sniper rifles.  This way they would have a close cluster
of carcasses to pick up, before the herd even knew what was happening.

The drawback was the need to park the shuttle out of sight behind
the hill, and clamber a couple hundred feet up over large rocks with the heavy
rifles slung, to reach the top. There was a foot of fresh fallen snow on the
flats. The rocks, now blown clean, had deep patches between them were snow had gathered
into drifts or filled the hollows.

On the plus side, both men were eager to field test their
latest three modifications for strength, endurance, and cold adaptation. The genetic
mods, designed several hundred years ago, were originally for use with clones,
not Normals. Implemented in Thad and Dillon several months ago, they had
completed the virus carried cellular level gene transformation in less than two
weeks. However, it had required months of exercise and high protein food to supplant
the old muscle mass with the new, which the modified cell structure made
possible.

They didn’t appear particularly bulked up, no more than any
men that exercised regularly. However, they both could now run two miles at a modest
clip in the 1.52 times Earth standard gravity. They were sure they could go
even farther if they wished. Previously they were unable to jog more than a half
mile on Koban, not without stopping to take a breather. They soon amazed
themselves and their friends with the weight lifting capability they developed.

Dillon, the younger and fitter man had probably weighed 210
pounds, or 95 kg in Earth mass when the mods were administered, which was
equivalent to about 320 pounds on Koban. The scientist, never having lifted
weights, had no experience by which to judge his progress, but it was
significant.

He was now able to bench press 280 pounds, measured from the
numbers stamped on the weights in the fitness center of the Krall disabled
ship, the Flight of Fancy. This was equivalent to lifting 425 pounds on Koban.
He could squat (he hated that term) 450 pounds, or about 684 in the higher
gravity. He had dead lifted 400 pounds, equivalent to just over 600 here.

Although Dillon was still increasing what he could lift, Jake
informed him, in a bit of ego deflation, that his present efforts were not
world records if adjusted to Earth gravity. However, this was still far better
than other unmodified long-term captives on Koban could do, with years more of
muscle adaptation behind them. Including Thad.

Therefore, when they parked the shuttle, the two newly
rejuvenated and competitive men raced one another to the top of the rocky hill.
Dillon would have won, but Thad Greeves, a former military man and a Colonel, cheated
by gleefully shoving him off a boulder into a deep drift, and beat the younger
man to the top.

Laughing as he caught up with him at the crest, Dillon told
him, “You know I would have beaten you if you hadn’t cheated.” Neither man was
breathing very hard.

Thad grinned. “In combat there’s no such thing as cheating.
You win or you’re dead.”

“Hey,” Dillon protested, “this wasn’t combat!”

“I know, so I cheated,” Thad laughed. “You’re lucky I didn’t
push you into that deep crevasse full of snow, just below the crest. I’d be sitting
here eating yak jerky waiting for you.”

“It would serve you right if you
had
to eat that crud
for cheating,” Dillon told him with a grimace. “It’s called
yak
jerky
for its wonderful flavor.”

“That’s just the spices I used. It isn’t so bad.” Thad
answered, defending his homemade snack. “I’ve eaten worse in field training.”

“Well, I’ll settle for fresh yak steaks, medium rare
tonight,” and Dillon looked out towards the distant herd through the gray haze,
still plodding towards them.

Thad advised, “We may as well settle down between these two
largest boulders to get out of the wind. I’m not cold yet, but these parkas and
our cold adaptation can only do so much. We have about half an hour before they
get close enough. I have some of Tet’s Earth coffee in a self-warming bottle
with me.”

“Won’t the coffee smell give us away?” Dillon asked.

“To a herd that was already downwind of this hill, sure.
Check the wind direction mighty hunter.” Thad teased. “Besides, our own human
scent is enough to alert them. They just don’t equate us with danger, not yet
anyway. Any strange smell might keep them too far away to shoot.”

Slipping down between the two large boulders near the top,
they used their gloved hands to scoop out piled snow to make a sheltered
hollow, with an opening to the north, so they could still observe the distant
yaks.

Thad triggered the power cell of a small bottle of coffee he
pulled from his backpack, removing the cup-sized cap. “I’ll give you the cup,
and I’ll drink from the bottle. It only holds about two cups worth anyway.”

In barely a minute, they were enjoying the hot Earth-brew
coffee, which didn’t seem to taste as good when the beans were from anywhere
but Earth. Supposedly first cultivated by the mythical Juan Valdez, whoever he
had been.

The two men made small talk for a time. They discussed the
people that had chosen to move to the abandoned main Krall compound on the
southeastern coast, now called Hub City by its new residents. The name reflected
their support for the laws and customs of the Hub worlds of Human Space. They
disapproved, strongly in some cases, of the genetic modifications of humans conducted
at Koban Prime. That was the former Krall compound, now called Prime City, where
the aliens housed their human combat test “animals.” The bio-scientists from
the Flight of Fancy had found several thousand willing volunteers for gene
mods, mostly from among former captives that had experienced Krall brutality
first hand.

Half of the meat Thad and Dillon planned to bring back was
going to Hub City, because those more recent captives were as of yet unable to
provide their own food. They didn’t seem to grasp the irony of the situation.
Without the modified and boosted humans to help them, they could not survive
here very long.

The coffee finally gone, both men, in tacit uncoordinated
agreement, broke down their heavy rifles to ensure they were clean and in
perfect operating condition. It didn’t matter that the yak bulls couldn’t reach
them up there on the rocks. It was a survival habit recognizing that nearly
every example of animal life on Koban was potentially dangerous to humans.
Often they were deliberately and aggressively so.

Even genetically enhanced humans were at a severe
disadvantage on Koban without technology to protect them, such as the shuttles,
heavy and light weapons, electrified fences, communications, and their intelligence.
People died several times a month from carelessly forgetting where they were
and what to look for, even with guns and someone to cover their back.

Thad used his scope to sight-in the lead yaks and measure
distance, noting as usual that it was large bulls breaking the way through the
shallow snow. They were too far out, almost a mile yet, for accurate shots in
this wind and light snow, on a gray day. There were perhaps a hundred animals
in this particular herd. If given the choice, they would take only the whiter
haired young females, as having the more tender cuts of meat. The larger bulls had
more meat but were tougher. The bulls usually were discernible by the darker
remnants of bluer stringy hair under their necks, as well as their size. They
all had wide curved horns, and a cross-the-skull bony ridge.

He told Dillon, who was checking his own sights and scope
computer, “We can probably go up and take our shots in about ten minutes,
though they could be headed for the bushes at the base of our hill. There are
still leaves on those, and the grass under the snow around the base on the
backside felt thicker when we started our climb up here. If so we can have our
pick of the herd if they walk right up to us to graze.”

Dillon lowered his rifle and was about to agree, when he
paused, and placed a bare hand on the side of one of the sheltering boulders.
“Do you feel that?” he asked. “A vibration.”

Thad placed his own ungloved hand on the same rock.
“Tremor?”

Koban had quite a few active volcanoes, and was geologically
active.

“I don’t think so. It’s steady, and I’ve been feeling it
through my back for some time as I leaned against the rock face. It finally
grew strong enough that I took notice.”

Thad looked out at the yak herd. “We aren’t the only ones to
notice, or else they are causing it. The bulls have changed direction to our
left, and have picked up the pace. Look at the snow they’re kicking up.”

“The vibration wasn’t coming from that herd,” Dillon hooked
his thumb towards the yaks. “They just now started running. Doesn’t it feel
like that stampede of rhinolo we triggered, a couple of months back? We shot a
cow, and before we landed, we chased a big herd away from the kill using the
shuttle. It felt like this through my feet.”

“If it isn’t the yaks, then it must be some other stampede,”
agreed Thad, “because I’m starting to hear the sound, despite the muffling
effect of snow. It isn’t rhinolo, not this far north.  Let’s get up top. We
might be able to get our shots in before the yaks get too far away, and also catch
sight of what’s running our way.”

They climbed out of their cozy rock and snow shelter, and as
they reached the top of the wind swept peak, they could see the source of the
distant rumble. It was an indistinct line of churning snow spray, a mile or
more to the right when they faced the still turning yak herd.

“What do you think Thad, should we take our kills shots now
before they get farther away? Or do we wait to see what the hell’s coming?
We’re safe up here on the rocks.”

“I’m thinking we should take our shots, but let me put a
scope on that line first.” Thad dropped prone, flipped up the scope shields and
sighted in on the fuzzy stampeding line.

“What the hell are those?” he asked in amazement. “They’re
huge, and they have what looks like trees on their heads.”

Unable to resist his own look, Dillon followed suit and from
a prone position saw a line of lumbering animals with wide flat looking things
growing from the top of their heads, and what could only be tusks, bounding up
and down as they kicked snow ahead of the charging line with thick massive legs.
They definitely looked elephantine.

“Damn, Gloria and Yancy didn’t make them up after all.”
Dillon laughed in wonder.

“Make up what? That team has seen these before?”

Gloria Goodwin and Yancy Moulder made up another hunting
team that helped keep nearly twenty five thousand people supplied with meat,
and sometimes served as explorers.

Dillon Laughed again “So they had claimed, and they named
them too, which is why I thought they had made the damned things up, to sucker
me into repeating the story and looking like a fool.

“Those fine beasties are what you call moosetodons. I shit
you not!” He laughed even harder.

Still chuckling, he explained, “Gloria and Yancy claimed
they saw some of these when they took a shuttle farther north to check on
another abandoned Krall compound, one Jake reported from our original landing
day on Koban.”

“Why the goofy name? Wait! Never mind for now,” Thad
interrupted himself. “We have to shoot some yak if we want to make our meat quota
today.”

“Thad, these new animals are charging towards us, and have
three times the mass of a yak, so any two of them will give us even more meat.
We can wait for them to come close and take two of them down. You know us
scientists types will be thrilled to have a new species to dissect. Plus you’ve
called these elephant guns,” he patted his .50 caliber rifle. “Now you can
prove that.”

“OK, you repeated that stupid name for them, and now the
elephant gun comment. What are these supposed to be?” Thad asked.

“Gloria said they’re Koban’s equivalent to the Earth’s
extinct mastodons, but with long thick hair, as a cold weather adaptation. Sort
of like a wooly mammoth, also long extinct.”

“Fine, then why not call them a mammoth instead of…, what
was it you said?”

A dopy grin on his face, Dillon repeated the name.
“Moosetodons.” Unable to restrain himself, he snickered again.

Sighing, Thad had to ask. “Why the ‘moose’ prefix?”