The Rask Rebellion

"Don't burn yourself," Ben warned, "it's still hot."

She waited a little longer, then stuck out her pink tongue, dipping the pointed tip into the drink. Her eyes lit up, and she lifted it, taking a tentative sip.

"That's...good!" she exclaimed, taking a longer draw from the cup.

"It's the juice of an Earth fruit called a cranberry," he explained, "I happen to think it tastes best when heated up."

"Oh, I can feel it warming my belly," she sighed. The little reptile closed her eyes contentedly as she took another sip, her feathers flashing a peaceful shade of green. She reminded him of someone drinking hot cocoa in the depths of winter, wrapped in a blanket as they sat beside a roaring fire.

"Feel better?" he asked, Mizi nodding as her headdress flushed pink once more.

He noticed that Lozka was watching him, and he gave her a quizzical look.

"What's the matter?" he asked, "you want to try some too?"

"No," she replied, turning her attention back to her monitors.

The beef stew was soon done, Ben pouring a little water into the packet and shaking it to make the consistency a little more soupy before rising to his feet again. He made his way over to the cab and handed the packet to Lozka, who sniffed it with far more skepticism than Mizi had.

"What is this made from?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at it suspiciously.

"It's just meat in sauce. Try it, you'll like it."

"As you wish," she replied, taking a cautious drink from the packet. It was the size of a bag of chips in her furry hands. She smacked her lips, then nodded her approval.

"See? I told you," Ben said with a grin. He returned to his seat and started on his main course, sharing his chicken with Mizi. She liked the taste and texture, professing that it reminded her of Gue'tra meat, whatever that was. It was a lot more palatable than her condensed insect protein bars, that was for sure.

Lozka seemed to enjoy the packet of diced meat, digging into it with an enthusiasm that he had rarely seen her display. Perhaps cooking her MREs was the way to go in the future, he'd have to show her how to use the flameless ration heaters. Just like the human MREs, the contents were probably perfectly edible cold, but far more appealing when cooked.

Once everyone was done eating, Ben selected a sleeping bag and zipped up, lying on the mattresses with his back to the hull. The lighting strips in the ceiling were turned off now, the only illumination bleeding in from Lozka's monitors in the cab. It was still cold, but with both the pressure suit and the bag, it wasn't so bothersome as to keep him awake. Mizi was on the adjacent side of the bay a few feet away from him, still wrapped up in her sleeping bag. Their midnight snack had warmed her, but she still seemed cold, shivering as she rested upright on her locked legs. Odd, why was she not lying down as she had done while cuddling with Lozka the night before? He knew that she could do it.

Ben closed his eyes, trying to get to sleep, but soon found himself opening them again.

"Damn it," he muttered to himself, raising his voice as he called to her. "Mizi, you doing okay?"

"I-it's c-cold," she replied, her teeth chattering.

"Alright," he sighed, rolling his eyes. "We got two choices here, we either run down the fuel cells by turning up the heat, or you sleep with me. What's it gonna be? I'm not gonna lie here and watch you catch hypothermia."

"I...I can s-sleep with you?" she asked, her headdress rising in a display of pink and yellow. "I t-thought you said that h-humans don't sleep with t-their crew?"

"I'll make an exception in this case," he replied, pulling down the zipper on his sleeping bag and opening it in invitation. She unlocked her leg joints, shuffling across the mattresses with her sleeping bag wrapped tightly around her. The little alien lowered herself down beside him, joining him on the deck. Ben caught her in his arms and pulled her close, closing his own sleeping bag around the both of them. Her four and a half foot, sixty-pound frame was small enough that the fit wasn't too tight, Ben feeling her shift her insubstantial weight as she got comfortable. There wasn't anything inappropriate about it, their bodies were separated by two pressure suits and her sleeping bag. Her head was level with his chest, and he closed the zipper over it, burying her completely. All that he could see now was a little tuft of pink feathers that was rising up to tickle his neck.

"Can you stop that?" he mumbled.

"S-sorry," she replied, her muffled voice barely audible beneath the insulating fabric. "It's involuntary."

Ben noticed that Lozka was peering at him again, giving him that same look. Was it appreciation?. When she realized that he had seen her, she turned back to her displays.

***

"You never woke me up for my watch," Ben said, climbing back into his seat in the cab. "I really was joking, you know."

"I know," Lozka replied.

"So, why did you take the entire night watch yourself?" he asked as he strapped himself in. Mizi climbed in after him, making her way to the driver's seat. She seemed chipper this morning, full of energy. Thanks to Lozka, they were both well-rested. The Valbaran had woken up shortly before he had, but she hadn't moved a muscle, waiting until the last moment to leave the warmth of their sleeping bag cocoon.

"Because you were helping Mizi," Lozka replied.

"Well, thanks," he muttered as he switched on his displays. "But get some sleep tonight, I need you alert. Maybe you can babysit Mizi, I don't think she particularly cares who the body heat comes from."

"As you wish," she replied, the engine rumbling to life as Mizi began to drive them out from beneath the rocky outcrop.

"We can finally get out of this massif today," he muttered as he examined the horizon through Mizi's forward cameras. "I was hoping we might be able to find another oasis and take a bath, but I don't know if anyone will be getting out of the Wolf in that sandstorm. I rather like having skin, and we'd have to tie a string around Mizi's ankle so she doesn't get carried off like a kite."

"It worries me that we have not yet encountered any Rask," Lozka said, scanning the surrounding rocks with her turret. "I am certain that they are here."

"This massif is pretty huge," Ben replied, "maybe they're just camping out in an area that we haven't come across along our route. I'm going to include them in my report, of course, warn the column that they're probably going to get ambushed. Honestly, if the Rask are equipped the same way as that skiff we fought in the dunes, then they'll be throwing themselves head-first into a meat grinder. I almost feel sorry for them."

"You shouldn't," Lozka muttered, Mizi glancing over her shoulder at her companion.

CHAPTER 6: THE BLACK PASS

The sounds of the Kodiak's roaring engine and rumbling tracks reverberated through the hull, the seventy-ton vehicle grinding the volcanic rock beneath its polymer treads as it made its way up the dry riverbed. Cooper's padded chair vibrated beneath him as he looked through the optics, a square display with a row of switches that controlled its functions, watching the column of vehicles ahead of him. They were part of a procession of tanks and troop carriers that were making their way deeper into the foreboding massif, as spread out as they could reasonably be between the walls of jagged, black granite than the ancient water had carved out. Charlie was a mechanized company, comprised of twelve Kodiaks and eight Pumas that were kicking up clouds of dust as they advanced.

The gunner's position was cramped, miscellaneous electronics and machinery boxing him in, the commander occupying the seat to his left on the other side of the main gun. There was a third crew member below, deeper inside the armored chassis, surrounded by panoramic displays as he piloted the vehicle.

Cooper reached up towards his monitor, pressing one of the switches with the textured tip of a polymer finger, changing the camera to the heat-sensing FLIR view. The prosthetic was connected at his shoulder, its black housing covering up the skeletal frame and the electronics beneath, powered by electric motors that whined softly as he moved. It was almost a perfect replica of his original, hooked up to his nervous system to provide sensation that approximated that of his organic limb.

The right side of his body had been damaged during a previous deployment, when a Betelgeusian breaching cannon had been used to pierce the hull of his vehicle, sending super-heated plasma and shrapnel spraying through the turret. The crew had all survived, but he had lost his right arm, his right leg below the knee, and he had sustained damage to his torso that only his flak jacket had prevented from being fatal. His right lung and kidney had been replaced with synthetics, and his burned skin had been grafted with an artificial substitute. It was flexible and stretchy, just like the real thing, its jet-black color giving the impression that molten latex had been drizzled over his ribs and thigh. His face had thankfully been spared, and so most of the damage was hidden beneath his pressure suit. Thanks to the state of the art medical facilities on the Pinwheel, the surgeons and technicians had been able to restore full functionality, allowing him to resume his duties.

"You picking up anything on the FLIR, Cooper?" the commander asked.

"Nah, it's a fucking scorcher, Sarge. The rocks are so hot that they're blowing out the sensor."

"Maybe the drones'll pick something up," the commander replied, peering out of his cupola at the desolate landscape beyond. "Recon said they didn't see any Rask, but I'll bet my left nut they're out there in the rocks, just waiting for us to roll on by."

"Barry!" Cooper yelled, stamping his boot on the deck.

"What?" the driver's muffled voice replied.

"How's Sheila doing? I'm sweating my arse off up here."

"Engine temps are within safety limits," he replied. "And stop stamping, you dickhead. I can hear you fine down here."

"Not a bloody servo in sight," Cooper muttered, scanning the canyon walls for movement through his scope. "Dead trees and burning wasteland as far as the eye can see. How the fuck did we travel seventy-five light-years just to end up back in Perth?"

"Less whinging, more working," the Sergeant complained.

They pressed on as the primordial riverbed began to narrow, only around forty meters wide in places, forcing the formation to close ranks until the vehicles could only continue in single-file. The canyon walls were less sheer here, more like steep hills that were scattered with volcanic rock, the large boulders that had been deposited along their inclines providing excellent cover for anyone who might seek to trap them in a crossfire. The infantry dismounted from their IFVs, making the going even slower, the Marines and Borealan Shock Troopers sticking close to their vehicles as they inspected the surrounding terrain.

"Whose bright idea was it to make everyone's body armor black?" Cooper muttered, watching them through his scope. "Those poor fuckers must be roasting out there."

"They're environment suits, they've got cooling," Barry replied. "They're probably doing better than we are right now."

"I really don't like being boxed in like this," Cooper continued, reaching over tap the commander's shoulder. "Hey, Sarge, have the drones spotted anything yet?"

"Nothing so far, I'll let you know if there's any radio chatter. No reports of sightings from the other vehicles, either."

"Maybe there's nobody out here, and we're just jumping at shadows," Barry suggested.

"We know there are natives running around," the Sergeant added, "so don't freak out if someone starts chucking rocks at us."

"I expect the noise would keep them away," Barry said, "we must sound like a mobile thunderstorm."

Cooper watched a squad of Marines leave the side of their IFV, climbing up the nearby slope, checking between the rocks as they went. Seeing the infantry contrasted with the boulders really put their size into perspective, some of them were as big as the Kodiaks. They made their way up towards the ridge, trudging through the dark sand, the magnetic coils on the barrels of their XMRs glinting in the sun as they waved them to and fro.

A sudden explosion rocked the tank, the ground trembling beneath them as a cloud of dust was thrown high into the air somewhere ahead of them. The convoy ground to an abrupt halt, the Marines on the hill taking cover amongst the rocks as Cooper turned his view to their front. He was just in time to see a rockslide plug the riverbed ahead, the rolling boulders no doubt dislodged by charges that had been placed long before their arrival. The sand seemed to sweep in like a wave, burying everything to create an impassable wall. The lead vehicle was mercifully clear, avoiding being crushed by only a few meters.

"It's kicking off!" the Sergeant yelled. "Weapons free!"

The hills suddenly began to move, the sand shifting all around the convoy. Figures were rising from beneath it, sheets of dark sand sliding off the canvas tarps that were draped over their backs, the glint of bayonets catching the sunlight. The Rask had been lying in wait, hidden just beneath the surface, the explosion signaling the start of their attack.

There was a lingering moment of silence, and then the reverberating crack of railguns began to echo through the canyon, audible even through the Kodiak's thick hull. The squad of Marines in the rocks was the closest to the enemy, a nearby Rask launching himself from beneath the sand, spearing one of them in the gut with his bayonet. The man was lifted off his feet, the alien slamming him into one of the rocks. Cooper couldn't hear his cry of pain, but he could see it in the way that his helmeted head snapped back, his gloved hands gripping the long barrel.

The Rask pulled the trigger, the Marine jerking as the slug tore through him at point-blank range, his body going limp. His companions had turned their weapons on the leather-clad feline now, a torrent of full-auto gunfire tearing his body to pieces where he stood, the kinetic energy turning him into a cloud of red mist and floating strips of leather.

Another of the Marines caught a slug from a hidden shooter, the impact exploding his head like a melon, helmet and all. That body armor was designed primarily to stop plasma and shrapnel, there was no wearable defense against a railgun that could punch a hole through two and a half inches of rolled steel. The squad began to move, taking cover and returning fire as best they could, their rounds digging deep craters into the surrounding boulders.

Tungsten slugs hammered the Kodiak's hull, ringing it like a gong, but the crew were in no danger. It would take something far more powerful than an XMR to penetrate their defenses, and their assailants didn't seem to know it.

The IFV ahead of them began to fire its thirty-millimeter gun into the hills, the slugs tearing into the volcanic rock and creating puffs of pulverized stone, Cooper catching one of the Rask being pasted in his viewfinder. The troop carrier drove forward a few feet, angling itself so that it was perpendicular to the incline on its left, its squad rallying around it as it covered them with its turret. As he watched, it extended its deployable cover, two chest-high walls of thick armor unfolding from either side of its cab on articulated arms to create a protective barrier. The Marines dove behind it, popping up to fire their XMRs at the enemy. White clouds rose up from the column ahead as some of the vehicles deployed their smokescreens, the wind carrying it.

"Cooper, target those Rask on our left!" the Sergeant shouted. "Bearing three-hundred. Load HE and set the fuse to airburst!"

Cooper gripped the joystick and swung the turret to put his crosshair over a group who were nestled in a cluster of boulders, the motion jostling him in his seat. He reached up to hit one of the switches on his console, a mechanical clunk echoing through the compartment as the auto-loader slid a sabot into the breech, the computer dialing in the correct voltages. The immense recoil made the entire vehicle rock back on its tracks as he pulled the trigger, the pair of electromagnetic rails that ran the length of the barrel accelerating the projectile to several times the speed of sound in a fraction of a second. It created a shockwave as it tore through the air, kicking up a wall of dust, the high-explosive round reaching its target before its armature had even had time to properly separate.

It exploded a few feet above the huddling Rask, forming a donut-shaped cloud of hypervelocity shrapnel that tore through everything in the vicinity like a gigantic shotgun blast. Their limp bodies dropped to the ground heavily, partially obscured by the cloud of dust that the explosion had kicked up. A solitary survivor scurried clear, his rifle clutched in his hands, but the commander gunned him down with the cannon on his remote-operated blister.

There were hundreds of them, coming from both sides of the riverbed, more of them throwing off their disguises as they joined the assault. Every vehicle seemed to be firing in a different direction now, turrets and blisters spewing tungsten, the tanks pounding the rocks with airburst shells. There was a thunk as the mortar mounted on the commander's blister above him fired a round, the explosive landing amongst the boulders a few hundred feet away, scattering the attackers.

If they'd been equipped with anti-tank mines, or rocket-propelled grenades, or anti-material railguns, then the convoy could have been in serious trouble. The ambush was tactically sound, but the Rask seemed to be under the impression that their weapons could penetrate vehicle armor, which was not the case. Cooper could hear the slugs hitting the tank, they weren't even concentrating their fire on specific areas. The only real danger was to the Marines, but with the cover of the vehicles, it was hard for the Rask to get a clear shot at them.

Something heavier hit them, the distinctive sound of a ricochet reverberating through the hull.

"What the fuck was that?" Barry shouted.

"Bug buster!" the Sergeant replied. "It bounced! There, at fifty degrees!"

Cooper swung the turret around, taking a moment to spot the target. Up on top of the hill were a pair of Rask, lying prone on the sand side by side. One of them was shouldering a far larger rifle, the other carrying its massive battery pack, connected to the weapon by thick power cables. It was an AMR, an anti-material railgun, its long barrel packed with dense magnetic coils. They were scaled-up cousins of the XMR platform, firing larger caliber slugs at far higher velocities, designed primarily to take down Betelgeusian warriors and light spacecraft. He didn't want to give them time for another shot, firing the main gun at them, the pair vanishing in a shower of sand and pulverized rock.

There was another loud crack as a second AMR team scored a hit on the IFV ahead, the round punching clean through the side armor. There was a flash of light as some of the material was instantly vaporized, a spray of molten metal erupting as what was left of the slug exited the other side of the vehicle. The Marines who were taking cover behind the deployable wall were showered with flecks of glowing slag, but their armor protected them, the tungsten projectile digging a deep crater in the ground a short distance away. It was hot enough that the splash of sand froze in the air, turned to glass before it had even had time to fall. It was a good job that the squad had exited the IFV, if they had been inside the troop bay when that slug had ripped through it, they would have been torn to pieces.