Koban: The Mark of Koban Page 3

  “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?”

  “You said it yourself, they have a tree-like growth on their heads. Gloria and Yancy said they are wide antlers that resemble a moose’s headgear. They also have tusks and a short trunk-like proboscis. Now you know why I didn’t repeat their claim. I assumed they were pulling my leg, waiting for me to repeat their ridiculous description and look like an idiot.”

  He looked towards the still thundering line, growing clearer by the minute “We’ll have good shots in five minutes.”

  As the big animals grew closer, it was obvious they were at least nine or ten feet high at the front shoulders, with a back that sloped somewhat to the rear quarters. The legs were thick and very similar to an elephant’s, but slightly longer, better suited for running. They had mostly white shaggy, snow blending thick hair, with traces of teal that suggested they wore that frequently seen color in summer.

  The line of the stampede angled to pass to the front of the hill, offering a perfect choice of shots for the two hunters.

  Lying prone Thad and Dillon discussed which animals to bring down and how. They decided shots behind the rather small, two-foot wide flapping ears on those massive heads would likely be a fatal shot. Dillon cautioned that they would have to avoid hitting the seven-foot wide and slightly up curved antlers, which might deflect their bullets, firing from their high vantage point.

  The tusks angled down and forward, at least six feet long, one on either side of a trunk-like lower lip that was wriggling up and down as they ran, as if in agitation. From time to time, they made loud bugling sounds, not at all like an elephant’s call, since their so-called trunk was not a long nostril, but an elongated prehensile lower lip.

  “Thad, you take the first shot at that animal on the edge closest to us, and then I’ll do the same to the one behind him, as soon as you fire.” They lined up their selected targets.

  The boom of Thad’s big rifle cut through the sound of thundering feet, followed immediately by Dillon’s own shot at an animal just behind Thad’s target. Both of the huge creatures staggered for a few steps and bugled loudly.

  Thad’s target dropped to its front knees, its tusks digging into the trampled snow and ground. Momentum caused it to execute a slow motion flip onto it head and antlers, and then crash to the ground on its back before rolling to its side. Dillon’s animal ran into Thad’s kill, and simply crumpled to the ground and fell over. Diverting around the two dying animals, the other moosetodon’s didn’t even slow.

  After the last of them had passed the hill, Thad gave an estimate, “I think there were perhaps a hundred fifty in that herd.”

  “Did you see the blood and gashes on some of the animals in the rear?” Dillon asked. “I wonder if they did that to one another in their panic.”

  “I saw some blood streaks, now that you mention it. However, you bring up a good question we haven’t asked ourselves. Why were these big suckers in such a panic? That was a long stampede for such massive animals. What had them frightened? We’re the only hunters out here.”

  A huge roar behind them proved the fallacy of that statement.

  Leaping from rock to rock near the bottom of the hill was a one and a half ton, thirty foot long white feathered raptor, a huge eighteen inch long claw on each of the hind feet. Powerful legs were rapidly bringing it up the hillside to meet and disembowel this fresh prey. The gaping jaws in a narrow head on a long neck seemed more than enough threat to Dillon.

  Both men manually chambered fresh rounds on their bolt-action rifles, but the agile leaping beast was a hard target for a weapon configured for scope use. Dillon missed his first shot at a weaving head, and Thad merely winged the monster, which appeared evolutionarily related to Koban birds. He grazed the five foot long feathered and clawed left arm, or winglet. It roared its anger, and this time pain.

  Two additional roars in reply sounded from below and behind the two men, from the base of the drop off where the men now stood, completely exposed. Thad looked back and saw two more raptors, one standing atop a dead moosetodon that they had obviously been chasing. The third raptor was using mouth, winglet claws, and clawed feet on muscled legs for purchase to scramble up towards the men.

  It was too late to wish they had brought the semiautomatic versions of the .50 caliber rifles, selecting instead the more “sportsman-like” bolt action long-range sniper weapons to use for hunting. The raptor on the easier slope was likely to reach them, even if wounded, in just two or three more long leaps.

  Thad made a snap decision; he shoved Dillon towards the on-rushing ravening predator, pushing down on the man’s shoulders as he flailed arms and legs going over the flat toped rock’s edge, losing his rifle. He yelled at Thad in hurt and shocked reaction.

  Without hesitation, as the beast reached the last spring point to reach the top, Thad raised his rifle vertical against his chest, leaped forward and dropped down the rock face after Dillon. He felt the blast of hot air and fetid breath as the raptor snapped down at him as it passed over the gap in rocks.

  Falling into the snow-filled crevasse, the same one he had previously told Dillon he should have pushed him into, he banged his knee painfully against Dillon’s dropped rifle, lodged in snow. He sank into the deeper snow, bumping against his friend’s shoulder, driving Di
llon even deeper into the crevasse.

  Dillon, belatedly realizing what Thad had done to save him, frantically shoved snow away from Thad’s legs, and guided his knee off his own bruised shoulder, allowing the other man to sink a little lower. That was none too soon. The raptor had whirled around and thrust its narrow head and slender neck down into the top of the crevasse. It was mere inches from biting onto the top of Thad’s parka hood, which had flapped up from its resting place on his back.

  Dillon reached up and grabbed Thad’s shoulders and pulled him down hard, wedging the two of them tighter together in the crack, and shouted at Thad to pull down his parka hood. The animal scrambled to get belly down over the rocks, to be able to force its neck and head deeper into his prey’s hiding place.

  The raptor finally succeeded in getting a fragile grip with its front teeth on the prey’s fur. As it tugged, the hair began to slip through its teeth, so it released and quickly lunged downwards again to get a slightly firmer purchase, using its raspy tongue to pull more of the hair into its teeth. It had a better grip this time so it should be able to drag the meal out of its hiding place.

  The prey was struggling and making noise, spurring the raptor to try harder to dislodge the unfamiliar creature. It repeated the previous release and lunge to get a firm grip this time. Snorting in triumph, it couldn’t roar without opening its jaws, it steadily pulled the struggling animal up and out of its burrow.

  It yanked hard and the animal came free, with a cry sounding from his prize. The raptor flexed its neck and tossed the annoying thing into the air; it quickly gained is footing and was able to snatch the prey in midair, crushing it between its powerful jaws.

  “Thad!” Dillon screamed for his friend, as he felt his legs slipping upwards through his desperate grip. Thad’s rifle suddenly dropped down to wedge next to Dillon, just as he lost grip on his friend’s foot. He snatched at the rifle, which had a round already chambered.

  Dillon raised the rifle, looking for a way to shoot without hitting Thad. Suddenly the light improved as the raptor leaped to its feet. Dillon, on the verge of pulling the trigger in a last ditch effort to save Thad, saw the sliver of sky darken again, and something jammed the rifle butt painfully into his shoulder, and the ‘something’ grunted in pain.

  Grunted in pain?

  “Get the damned muzzle out of my crotch, will you? Damn that hurts,” Thad complained.

  Slipping the rifle butt’s painful pressure off his shoulder, it slid down along Dillon’s front, with Thad riding down with another grunt. The two fit a little deeper in the crevasse now, without Thad’s bulky parka to take up as much room.

  “I thought it had you, man.” Dillon’s relief was obvious.

  “It would have if I hadn’t dropped the gun and raised my arms. I was all the way to the top before I wiggled free of the parka. I looked down when I fell back and you had my rifle pointed up at me. Were you about to pull the trigger with my nuts on the muzzle?” Thad demanded.

  “Well, you did shove me into two snow filled holes without warning today,” Dillon answered in his own defense. They both laughed the laugh of men that have literally just escaped the jaws of death.

  The sound of the frustrated raptor above, tearing apart the mysteriously “skinned” animal stilled their laughter. Two of them soon appeared over the narrow opening, cocking their fearsome feathered heads like giant toothy birds, looking down at them. Dillon had raised the rifle, ready to fire if either one put its head down into the gap again.

  Thad touched Dillon’s hand, “Don’t pull the trigger if you don’t have to, we might be trapped down here if you do.” Killing a ton and a half beast right on top of their crevasse could prove just as fatal to them. It was certainly a much greater weight on Koban than it looked to their eyes, perhaps forty five hundred pounds here. They might not be able to move its heavy carcass from over the narrow opening.

  Obviously, the two predators didn’t recognize the danger from the weapon, but they were smart enough to know they couldn’t reach the two morsels either. The men could hear distant growls, most likely from their pack mate feeding on one of the two dead moosetodons. The two raptors above decided the big meal below the hill was worth more than the fun of a hunt that had devolved into a waiting game. They could hear them leave as they scrabbled down the rocks.

  “So…, they seem to be leaving for the larger feast.”

  “You know the old saying,” Dillon improvised, “a moosetodon in the hand is worth two men in a cleft.”

  With a pained expression, Thad told him, “I should have jumped in without you and let them eat your ass. It would serve you right.”

  “Maggi would be proud I kept my good humor,” he retorted.

  “Be serious, she’d whack you in the head for dropping your rifle.” Shifting subjects, Thad added, “I don’t know how long it takes one of those things to fill its belly, but I’m not climbing out of this hole for a couple more hours, just in case.”

  “You’ll be putting your cold adaptation to the test before then. How about we shift positions a bit and let me open my parka to share some body heat. Promise not to tell Noreen we got so cozy?”

  “I don’t intend to tell anybody we got caught flat footed by a gaggle of big white birds, like rookie hunters. By the way, what do you think we should call them Mr. Scientist? Not Thad or Dillon’s Terrible Turkeys, that’s for sure. How about something a little smarter sounding than moosetodon?”

  “They resemble dinosaur raptors from Earth’s past, so why not whiteraptor?” Dillon suggested.

  “OK, that’s good enough for me,” agreed Thad. “We’ll have to wait awhile. Want some jerky?” he offered.

  Dillon looked at his offering, “I’d rather yak.”

  3. Slaughter on the Nook

  Telour was disappointed. The team the humans had called a SWAT did have weapons somewhat equivalent to those they had provided to test subjects on Koban, but they were not as effective as he had expected.

  Hand held rapid-fire weapons, called submachine guns, had managed to injure all four of his hand of warriors, but the ammunition pellets were so small that the injuries caused were hardly life threatening, even when his novices were struck multiple times. Had a human been able to steady their aim on the heads, there might have been the possibility of killing a careless warrior.

  A captive human leader he had briefly permitted to live, for interrogation purposes, had told him these were the heaviest weapons allowed for his “officers.” He said the frangible bullets, as he called the pellets, avoid deep penetration and needless deaths. They were the only ammunition type they had. Irrational animal behavior like this frustrated Telour. The leader died slow, and poorly.

  The SWAT humans had worn a partial type of body armor that proved somewhat effective against the Krall pistol ammunition. However, it did not cover their arms and legs, and the helmets were open on the front except for a fragile transparent shield. The warriors simply targeted the exposed limbs and faces, and the enemy fell quickly to almost any wound. Most disgusting were those that tried to surrender. There were more bad deaths for those cowards.

  He did have a brief thrill that quickly turned to disappointment. In an effort to make an assault on his warriors, the humans with submachine guns first threw small hand bombs. They only made a bright flash and a loud noise, and were useless as weapons.

  Telour had thought they were the same hand held explosives that humans used in their final combat testing on Koban. Those that the human clan leader, Mirikami, had ordered made. These he had called fragmentation grenades. Those humans had killed a warrior with a grenade, and significantly injured two other warriors with them.

  After eliminating the SWAT team, he had released his warriors to roam at will, killing any humans they could find. He joined them for a time, hunting with his K’Tal pilot in a nesting area where human families lived. This kind of social grouping was a bizarre cultural feature found with some other alien races the Krall histories described. It
was convenient to have all of the genes of the group clustered this way, to eradicate their line all at once.

  Walking into a nest of one of the mid-level Galactic Mining employees, achieved by the simple expediency of kicking open the main door, Telour found a family grouping of five. Two of which, by the nature of their loose flowing lower clothing and smell, were females of their species. One was mature, and one a half-grown cub.

  The adult female assumed the assertive role in confronting the large intruder. This was despite a larger male’s presence, who was shielding the three human cubs of various sizes. Telour had discovered on Koban that initially women assumed leadership roles, but were the physically weaker of the species. Soon, a partial reversal of leadership roles had occurred on Koban, after Krall requirements for specimens to use in combat to the death eliminated all of the female leaders.

  To humans Krall females were nearly indistinguishable from males, although slightly smaller. The females fought alongside the males except when heavy with eggs.

  The woman spoke incomprehensibly, at least for Telour’s command of Standard, the primary language of humans. “My Company will have you crude, rude, despicable creatures in court for destruction of property and assault. Galactic Mining protects their employees, and you will find that…”

  Telour never learned what “that” might have been. He shot her through her open mouth when she raised a hand holding a legal document towards the three hundred sixty eight pound, seven feet one inch, saurian-resembling, reddish gray, armed and toothy, bloodthirsty alien.

  Her presumed mate followed her immediately with another shot to the head as he shouted “Bastard” at the Krall. While the smaller two cubs screamed and cringed, the larger half grown female moved to a food preparation area. Telour paused briefly as he considered the ridiculous insult that humans seemed to consider the word bastard to be.

  Krall cubs hatched alone and never knew their parents. Their only worth in Krall society came from the status they earned as they matured and became warriors and leaders. All Krall, if he understood the human word properly, were bastards by definition.