The Rask Rebellion

In the distance, Brenner picked up bright flourishes of flame, the shells hammering the convoy. He could just make out the silhouettes of vehicles being flung into the air like toys.

"How do you think they like a taste of their own medicine?" Hoff muttered.

"Lieutenant," Song began, "they're sending some very frantic messages asking why they're being fired on."

"Hit them again," Brenner replied. There was another series of cracks as the naval guns fired, another trio of salvos creating bright explosions that shone through the obscuring haze of airborne sand. Relative silence followed, the team watching through their scopes and visors.

"Not getting any more hails," Song said, his voice crackling as the storm interfered with the signal. "Either they're all dead, or they've figured out that they're no longer on control of the crawler. Should I keep hitting them? It's not like we need to conserve our ammunition."

"Let's wait," Brenner replied. "It doesn't matter if they retreat, they'll be running straight into Delta and Echo."

After a few minutes of silence, something appeared in the distance, dark shadows coming into view through the swirling sand. They seemed to materialize as if from nowhere, half a dozen vehicles racing down one of the low dunes. They were all technicals, converted civilian vehicles with guns and supplemental armor mounted to their chassis, a solitary APC trailing behind them. There was no way to know how big the convoy had been before it had taken a pounding, but the survivors were certainly in a hurry.

"Open fire," Brenner ordered, his rifle kicking against his shoulder as he sent hot tungsten downrange. There was no need to shout over the radio, his tone was cold, detached. His team opened up, the sound of gunfire filling the air as eleven weapons discharged. The sand around the incoming vehicles erupted, the stray rounds creating splashes, like raindrops hitting the surface of a puddle. The sheets of metal than the Rask had crudely welded to their transports provided no protection from railguns, the lead vehicle turning to Swiss cheese as the operators concentrated their fire on it. It seemed to disintegrate as it rolled down the incline, the other vehicles swerving to avoid it.

The two CIWS guns soon joined in, the lenses in their muffin-shaped radomes zoning in on the targets, their multi-barreled cannons swiveling to track them. They would usually only fire on airborne targets like aircraft and missiles, but Song was controlling them manually.

They spewed tracer rounds in an almost unbroken stream, painting glowing lines through the air, the twenty-millimeter projectiles cutting swathes through the Rask vehicles. The APC was practically severed in half as one of the cannons swept across it, another technical erupting in a brief flash of blue flame as its hydrogen tanks ruptured.

The vehicles were taking evasive action now, but it was too late. They were in the middle of the kill zone, there was no cover in the open desert, no way for them to escape. Railgun slugs punched molten holes in their chassis, the CIWS guns tearing them to pieces with a fire rate that made them sound more like buzzsaws than guns. In what couldn't have been more than a minute, the convoy was no more. Brenner ordered his men to cease fire. He looked out over the wreckage, scanning for any signs of life, but there were none.

"I think that was all of them," he said, rising to his feet. "Song, let the boys in blue know that we'll be waiting for pickup."

***

"What do you mean vanished?" Korbaz snapped, the hologram flickering as she slammed her fist on the edge of the table. The Crewmaster recoiled, steeling himself before uttering his reply.

"The convoy that was sent to reinforce the Landslide never reported in," he explained, gesturing to the floating icons on the map. "They fell out of radio contact shortly before reaching its last reported position, and we've heard from neither the convoy nor the Landslide since."

"How could the humans have reached the Landslide before we did?" Korbaz hissed, her eyes scanning the hologram frantically as though the answer might be hidden therein. "They're still a day's drive East of it!"

"There's more," the Crewmaster added reluctantly, Korbaz shifting her attention back to him. "Not long after the convoy vanished, we received a distress call from their carrier, the Hurricane. They reported that they were being engaged by an enemy armored formation that had moved in from the North."

"From the North?" Korbaz repeated, failing to mask the confusion in her voice. "But...our scouts would have...how could the enemy have circled around to the North without us knowing about it? We would have seen them!"

"The Araxie territory is in that direction," the Crewmaster replied. "Perhaps the aliens landed more vehicles there without our knowledge? In any case, the Hurricane is surely lost, and we now have a second formation to worry about."

"That's half of our crawlers gone, and sixty percent of our fighting force," Korbaz hissed. "We no longer have the firepower or the numbers to launch a second assault on the main formation."

"So...what do we do now?" the Crewmaster asked hesitantly, a few of the bridge crew turning to glance at the Admiral with worried expressions on their faces. Korbaz thought for a moment before replying, running through the options in her head. This was bad, they had been out-maneuvered, out-gunned. She felt as though she had swallowed a lead weight.

"We must...accept the dishonor of failure," she replied with a grimace. Even the suggestion would certainly shake the Matriarchy's faith in her, maybe even open her up to challenges from the other Crewmasters, but there was no avoiding it now. "The plan will not work," she added, "not after losing so many of our assets. Recall the reinforcements who were headed for the Hurricane, send them...I don't know where. Figure it out. We only have one operational carrier now."

"As...you wish," the Crewmaster replied.

She rose from her place at the table, trying to swallow the lump in her throat, all eyes in the room watching her intently. She straightened her purple sash, collecting herself.

"Our only option now is to develop a viable strategy using only three crawlers," she added. "I must contact the Matriarch, the responsibility is mine."

The Crewmaster bowed his head, then barked an order, the bridge crew clearing out of the room to give her some privacy. After a few moments, the only one who remained was the operator who was sitting at the crawler's comms station.

Korbaz paced for a minute, trying to muster what courage she had left. She and the Matriarch had parted ways on favorable terms, in good spirits, the Matriarch having placed all of her faith in Korbaz's ability to command the fleet. How could she tell her that the plan was coming apart at the seams, that she was losing the war? Even with the fleet at full strength, victory would have been hard-won, but now...

"M-my Admiral?" the comms operator asked. She shot him a glare that made him shrivel up like a piece of fruit in the sun, his hands hovering over his console.

"Put the call through," she said, straightening her back as though the appearance of confidence might somehow instill the real thing in her.

The operator began to tap at touch panels and turn knobs, the holographic image of the Dune Sea that occupied the table in the center of the room seeming to disintegrate before her eyes, as though it was itself made from sand. In its place appeared the visage of the Matriarch, shown from the chest up, like one of the sculpted busts of her predecessors that could be found in the halls of her palace. It towered over Korbaz, larger than life, interference from the storm making it flicker and lag slightly. The Admiral took a knee, bowing her head in submission. The Matriarch would be seeing a similar representation of Korbaz on her end of the line.

"Admiral," the Matriarch began, her booming voice imbued with a synthetic timbre by the alien machinery. "I have heard troubling reports from the front. I trust that you have good news for me?"

Fear coursed through Korbaz, the like of which she had never felt before. She had to will her tail to stop flicking, balling her fists to mask the trembling in her hands. Admitting failure to the Matriarch was akin to placing her own head on the chopping block, but there were no alternatives, it was her responsibility alone to shoulder the burden.

"Honored Matriarch," she began, keeping her eyes on the carpet. "I fear that I must disappoint you. As you have no doubt read in the reports, our first engagement with the Coalition was very successful, but we have been losing ground ever since. Today, we confirmed the loss of two more crawlers, the Hurricane and the Landslide. We are left with only one operational battleship, one carrier, and the command crawler. A second Coalition armored formation has maneuvered in from the North, opening a second front."

"I see," the Matriarch replied, staring down at Korbaz with a gaze as cold as winter frost. "You have served me well throughout your career, Korbaz," she continued. "You were an exemplary Crewmaster, an accomplished diplomat, and I have always considered you among my closest advisors. I have valued your input, I have trusted your judgment, I have never doubted your courage or your loyalty. So tell me," she said with a wave of her hands. "Was appointing you to command my fleet an error on my part? Are the tools that I have given you unsuited to the task at hand? Are my warriors not up to the challenge?"

Her words stung like the bite of a claw, Korbaz not daring to look up at her. There was no anger in her voice, but her calmness was menacing enough to chill Korbaz's blood. What could she tell her? That she had done her best? That the war had been doomed from the start? No, the Matriarch expected her to prostrate herself, to grovel for forgiveness in the hopes that she might retain her status and her position.

"You granted me the honor of commanding the greatest raiding fleet that the territory has ever seen," she began, "each vessel crewed by our people's greatest sailors. The Crewmasters have performed their duties admirably, and our warriors have given life and limb selflessly in the pursuit of our goals. I beg you not to fault them, not to punish them, as the failure is mine alone."

The Matriarch's hologram nodded, seeming to approve of the way that she was shouldering all of the responsibility herself.

"Explain," she said, her voice echoing through the conning tower. "What has gone wrong? Why has it come to this?"

"My strategy worked...at first," Korbaz replied. "We struck the interlopers like true sandstalkers, fast and hard, retreating before they could muster a counterattack. Our artillery strikes have decimated their lines, and our ambushes have slowed their advance considerably, but our forces lack the ability to penetrate their armor."

"How so?" the Matriarch asked, narrowing her eyes.

"None of our weapons can disable their Kodiak tanks, even the anti-material railguns cannot reliably inflict damage. Our troops are evenly matched on foot, but with the support of their vehicles, we cannot prevail. The artillery is the only thing that works, but subsequent ground assaults break against their defenses."

"I see...and how have you lost so many of my crawlers?"

"I...cannot be certain, my Matriarch," Korbaz replied hesitantly. "After the first attack, I ordered the fleet to sail West, taking evasive action to reduce their chances of being discovered by enemy scouts. They were to launch artillery strikes and raids against the enemy convoy to slow their advance. But even with orbit closed to them and their sensors blinded by the storm, the aliens have devised a way to track our movements. There is no doubt of that now. I am especially troubled by the disappearance of the Landslide, and of the convoy that was sent to secure it. Coalition forces keep appearing in places that they should not be able to reach."

"What will you do now?" the Matriarch asked. Korbaz had hoped for further instructions, but the Matriarch obviously wanted to know her opinion first.

"It is my belief that we no longer have the resources to defeat the Coalition in the field," she said, the admission requiring all of her courage.

She would almost have preferred to die in battle rather than admit defeat in this manner, but it was not only her status that was at stake here. There were still three crawlers full of warriors, she had their lives to consider, she was responsible for them.

"My earnest wish is to return to the East Gate," she continued, "to mount a defense with the three remaining crawlers. But there is no way for us to reach the territory before the Coalition catches up to us."

"And the second option?" the Matriarch asked, Korbaz watching the blue glow that the holographic projection cast on the carpet.

"My Matriarch," Korbaz began, pausing to swallow the lump in her throat. What she was about to suggest could end her career in an instant, but it was the only choice left that made any sense. "I believe that the remaining crawlers should surrender to the Coalition...and that we should sue for peace."

"What?" the Matriarch hissed, her voice wavering as she struggled to contain her fury. "What Rask would suggest such a thing?"

"You know me, my Matriarch," Korbaz stammered. "You are aware of my combat record, my service to the territory, you know that I would not demean myself in such a manner if I saw any other option. We have many injured aboard, some of whom will soon die an agonizing death without treatment that only the aliens can provide. There is no hope of repelling the Coalition now, to continue to fight would be tantamount to killing our own loyal warriors. We cannot waste their lives. I am certain that the Coalition would accept our surrender, I may even be able to use my knowledge of their laws to negotiate favorable terms."

"Your time with the humans has made you weak," the Matriarch spat, a venom that Korbaz had never heard from her before dripping from her lips. She dared to lift her head now, the giant depiction of the Matriarch glaring down at her, her one eye brimming with disgust. "The fearless warrior that I once knew is dead," she continued, her every word sending Korbaz reeling. "In her place is a pampered diplomat, more concerned with saving her own hide than preserving her dignity. Just as their low gravity seeks to weaken bone, and diminish muscle, so too does their insidious ideology seek to weaken a warrior's resolve."

"M-Matriarch," Korbaz stuttered, but she was cut off by a swift wave of a holographic hand.

"Heed my decree," she boomed, Korbaz lowering her head obediently. "This war is not yet over, and as long as you still have breath, you will fight on. Take your remaining forces, concentrate your firepower, and meet the enemy head-on. Do this, and I will not speak of your...lapse in courage. Your honor will be preserved, and you will die a martyr to your people. This is the fate that I have chosen for you."

"Matriarch," Korbaz pleaded, lifting her eyes from the carpet again. "I beg of you, do not condemn the rest of the fleet! At least let me attempt to evacuate the wounded!"

"They know their duty, probably better than you do," the Matriarch snapped. "No, you will slow the aliens as much as possible. In the meantime, I will shore our defenses here. Your mission has not been a total failure, Admiral. You have delayed the interlopers, giving us time to prepare for their siege. Every soldier slain and vehicle disabled improves our odds."

"But...what will become of our territory?" Korbaz asked in disbelief. "I have spoken to the crew, I know that the common people are already experiencing food shortages. I have heard that the vaults are all but empty."

"We Rask are no strangers to hardship," she replied confidently, "the people will rally to the cause. They will endure, as they always have. The strict mother raises disciplined children, you know the adage well, and we embody it."

"Without control of the Dune Sea, they can simply starve us out!" Korbaz protested. The Matriarch bared her teeth, shocked by the sudden outburst. Contradicting her in such a manner was a serious breach of protocol, and it would surely have earned Korbaz a few scars if they had been face to face. "This whole venture was intended to return control of the region to our fleet. How can we raid trading caravans if we are trapped behind our own walls?"

"The Coalition cannot take a territory in which every citizen is prepared to give their lives in its defense," the Matriarch replied coldly.

"They would have no cause to even enter the territory!" Korbaz continued, rising to her feet. "They could wait for our own stubbornness to kill us!"

"Remember your place, Admiral," the Matriarch growled. The threat was not lost on Korbaz, the Matriarch could have her tossed from the deck of the crawler if she so desired. "Do you question my authority?"

Conflict threatened to tear Korbaz apart, her hands trembling as she averted her gaze, her head swimming. How could the person that she had so admired, that she had idolized, that she had devoted her life to even consider this course of action? It was suicidal, doomed to fail. The war was already lost, their focus now should be on ending it on the most favorable terms possible, there was much that could still be salvaged. Doubling down would only result in more needless loss of life.

A familiar fire began to rise in her belly, her blood running hot, the fur on her tail starting to puff up. The urge to flex her claws was overwhelming, adrenaline coursing through her body like fuel through an engine. For a brief instant, she was completely prepared to issue a challenge, to defy the very Matriarch of her territory.

She fought to suppress the urges, her senses returning to her, her temper cooling. How could she have considered such a thing, even for a fleeting moment? She buried her resentment, bowing her head in deference, the lead weight of shame settling in her stomach.

"I have pledged to serve you, Matriarch," she said. "I will do as you command."

"Loyalty and courage are what endure after death, Admiral," the Matriarch said. "Remember that going forward. This will certainly be the final conversation that we have," she added, a touch of regret creeping into her voice. "Make it a death that your enemies will remember, old friend."

The hologram fizzled out, Korbaz letting her shoulders sag as she exhaled. That couldn't have gone much worse. The Matriarch had always commanded her unwavering respect, but now, she found herself doubting her judgment. Why could she not see that the war was unwinnable? She was supposed to be the steward of her territory, the lives of its people were in her hands, yet their welfare seemed to be the least of her concerns.

She turned to see that the comms operator was staring at her with wide eyes.

"Not a word of what you have heard here to anyone," she hissed. "Have the bridge crew brought back in."

He nodded frantically, pushing more buttons. The Crewmaster approached her as the crew returned to their posts, noticing her sour expression, his brow furrowing with concern.

"How did it go?" he asked warily, Korbaz glancing at the other crew members as she pulled him aside so that they wouldn't be overheard.

"Our mission now is to slow the advance of the aliens by any means necessary," she whispered. "The Matriarch has expressed her wish that we should mount a final stand. It is to be a battle to the death."

The Crewmaster was visibly shaken, his eyes darting about as what he had just been told soaked in.