The Rask Rebellion

"I serve the Matriarch," he continued, clasping his hands behind his back as they turned another winding corner. "And I served her predecessor before her. I fight not for personal glory, but for the advancement of my territory, and I always have. My loyalty is not in question. I will follow any order that she gives, as is my duty, but that does not mean that I cannot be critical of her strategy."

"You believe that there are alternatives, then?"

"I do," he replied, "but none that would appeal to her. To rush into a direct confrontation with the Coalition convoy is folly, I do not believe that it will even accomplish the goal of slowing them by any significant margin."

"Then...why has the Matriarch ordered it?" Korbaz asked.

"Honestly? Panic, I believe," he replied. "I am not suggesting that the Matriarch is in any way cowardly. I know her, she feels no fear, her will is unshakable. But this situation, this war... it is rapidly spiraling out of control. We have lost the battle for the Dune Sea, that much should be obvious to everyone. Fortifying the East Gate to repel a siege is merely delaying the inevitable at this point."

"If I tell you something, will you swear on your honor that you will not repeat it?" Korbaz asked, guiding him into an empty storage room. He looked her up and down, considering.

"As long as it is not something that I would be duty-bound to report," he replied. "You are my superior, Admiral, and your performance so far has earned my respect. I will carry out your wishes as long as they do not conflict with those of the Matriarch."

"When I last spoke to the Matriarch, I suggested that we...surrender," she whispered. "My plan was to sue for peace. I know the inner workings of the Coalition better than any Rask, I thought that I could negotiate favorable terms. The humans don't want to be here, they never did. It was their indifference to our affairs that we sought to leverage in the first place."

"And she rejected it?"

"Of course," Korbaz replied, her ears and tail drooping. "It was cowardly of me, I put my legacy in jeopardy. She told me that I had spent too much time with the humans, that their ideology had poisoned my mind, and she may be right."

"No," Gazga said adamantly, shaking his bald head. "Going before the Matriarch herself and admitting failure is not an act of cowardice, it is an act of courage. Recognizing when you have been defeated, and acting appropriately to minimize the losses takes wisdom. Only fools stay the course when they know that it will lead to ruin."

She flashed back to her confrontation with Cooper outside the infirmary. Had her captive not said the very same thing?

"If that's what you believe, then why have you accepted the Matriarch's orders?" Korbaz demanded. She quickly corrected herself, as even the suggestion that the Matriarch's decree could be ignored was tantamount to treason. "I mean to say, you have not voiced your objections to her."

"I have spent my entire life serving the Rask government," he explained. "Its continuation is my only goal. If we do the logical thing, if we surrender to the Coalition, then what of the territory? The Matriarch will never give herself up, she will have every pack fight to the last, and she will eventually be slain along with all those loyal to her. Hundreds of thousands of our people will die, and the government will collapse with no successor to assume her role. A new leader would need the support of the people, or the territory would descend into squabbling factions, leaving us weakened and divided. The same may happen if we fight, yes, but at least we can improve her odds. What use is there in us surviving if everything that we have fought for collapses?"

"Could we ever have won this war, or was it doomed from the start?" Korbaz grumbled.

"The Matriarch has always dreamed of returning the territory to its former glory," he replied with a weary smile. "It was the reason that I supported her appointment in the first place. Perhaps we allowed ourselves to be seduced by that dream too, like chasing a mirage across the desert."

He bowed his head respectfully, then made is way back out into the corridor, pausing to look back at her.

"Try not to dwell on what could have been, Admiral. Celebrate, make merry, for tomorrow we shall die a beautiful death."

She watched him go, her brow furrowing. Glorious last stands, commemorative tapestries, shiny medals. What was the point of it all if everything that gave those things meaning was soon to be destroyed?

Losing the war would not mean the end for the Rask, she was certain of that. The humans adhered to their litany of restrictive laws and conventions religiously, but they would be happy to see the government dismantled and its people divided as Gazga had suggested. The humans would meddle in their affairs, install puppets and spies, rebuild the territory to suit their own agendas. Of that, she could be sure. In that way, the Rask could never again rise to prominence, never pose a threat. They would be made clawless, in a sense.

It would soon be time for the banquet. She had to collect her thoughts before then, try to come up with a rousing speech that would inspire the troops who were about to be sent to their deaths...

***

Korbaz stood at the head of the banquet table, the rich, purple drapes that hung from the walls meeting on the ceiling above her head to give the impression that they were inside a giant tent. The crystal chandeliers swayed gently with the motion of the crawler, the pink liquid that filled the glass decanters shifting gently. The wooden surface was laden with silver platters that overflowed with delicacies, succulent meats, and roasted gourds spilling across the table. It was a bounty worthy of an Admiral, cooked to perfection, the scents making her mouth water.

The stools were occupied by the three Crewmasters and the senior crew from the Wildfire, each of them adorned with medals and fineries that glinted in the wavering light. Around the edges of the room had been stacked piles of silken cushions, now occupied by what crew members could be packed into the space. The prefab was large enough to accommodate maybe a hundred Rask in all, most of them huddled in their respective packs as they waited for her to give her speech. She had wanted as many crew to be present as possible. It was a little unorthodox, but they were all in this together. They deserved to feast and mate just as much as an Admiral or a Crewmaster. It was going to be an enjoyable night, that much was already obvious, but her mood did not reflect that.

All of these people and more were going to die soon. Every soldier was aware that death was always a possibility, but to be ordered into an unwinnable battle was quite different. How was she going to tell them? Should she tell them?

"I'm sure that many of you are wondering what we are celebrating," she began, putting on a brave face. This was the last place to be showing doubt, she had to be confident, unwavering. "Yesterday, I spoke with the Matriarch, and she has given us new orders. Our original task was to slow the advance of the aliens, to whittle them down, and she wants you to know that you have accomplished that goal admirably."

The room filled with triumphant cheers, the warriors pumping their fists in the air. Everything that they did was in service of their Matriarch, and to know that they had pleased her would fill them with pride and courage.

"But our work here is not yet complete," she added, the cheering dying down to a murmur. "Our orders are to turn about, to meet the enemy head-on, and to inflict as much damage on them as possible. The fleet is regrouping, and tomorrow, we will be going into battle."

There were a few nervous glances now, cautious whispers filling the air, a hundred pairs of golden eyes full of unspoken questions peering back at her.

"This is not a battle that you should expect to survive," she continued, the room going silent. "Our goal is not to live on, but to die gloriously in service of our territory. Our enemies will remember our ferocity, and our comrades will remember our sacrifices. Your names will be woven into tapestries, they will be sung in the streets, your honor will be preserved until the suns burn out!"

More cheering, though less enthusiastic this time. She could see some of the Rask who were sitting on the cushions looking to their packs, joining in only when they were singled out. Some looked confused, others indignant, but most had been stirred by her speech. It was what the Matriarch would have expected of her.

"Before we taste a drop of wine or eat a morsel of meat, we shall remember the fallen," Korbaz added. "The crews of the Landslide, the Tornado, and the Hurricane gave their lives so that we might shape our own destiny once more. Let us all learn from their example."

The ritual of remembrance required that the names of the dead be recited in order of their place in the hierarchy by the highest-ranked Rask present, Korbaz pulling up a tablet computer, the crew repeating the names in a loud chant. It bolstered their courage, reminding them that they too would never be forgotten.

When it was done, the merriment began, scantily-clad attendants bringing food and drinks to all who were present. Korbaz returned to her seat, pouring herself a vial of wine from one of the fine decanters, watching as a handful of the packs began to tear off their clothes. It was to be a celebration of life, of death, a send-off for those who would meet their fates in battle. A feast and an orgy should have filled her with excitement, but somehow, she already felt dead. Perhaps a little raises the hair would dull the guilt that had settled in her belly like a lead weight.

She drank as she watched one of the more impatient packs, youthful bodies in the prime of their lives glistening with sweat beneath the chandeliers as they rutted on the cushions, beauty and passion on display for all to see. Yet all that Korbaz saw was the waste of it all, young lives about to be snuffed out.

She wanted to tell them that this was not her decision, that she would have all of them return home safely if she could, but that would only serve to dishearten them. No, better to bear that burden alone.

One of the attendants, a beautiful young male wearing a gossamer shirt that showed off his sculpted body, sidled up to present her with a choice cut of roasted meat. His mane of flowing hair was the color of gold, the lack of scars on his tanned skin proof of his inexperience, like a ripe gourd just waiting to be plucked from the vine. Korbaz hooked the meat with her claws, the oil that coated it splashing the table as she slapped it onto her plate. Had she been in a better mood, she might have ordered him beneath the table to service her while she ate, but she had no appetite for sex right now.

She lay her head in her hand, plucking off morsels of meat as the Crewmasters began to talk strategy again. Was this really how she was going to spend her last night alive? Listening to them droning on about boring tactics and deployments?

Somehow, the only subject that sparked any kind of interest in her was Cooper, her mind wandering to thoughts of him. She'd ordered the guards to return him to his cell after her last failed attempt to sway the stubborn little creature. Maybe there was some fun yet to be had tonight after all...

CHAPTER 20: BUCKET LIST

Cooper watched from behind the bars of his cage as Korbaz came stumbling into her quarters, a crystal decanter of what looked like wine clasped tightly in one of her furry hands. She was off-balance, her cheeks flushed pink. Was she drunk?

He had been sitting in his cell below deck, minding his own business, when two guards had brought him up to her room and tossed him into the cage. He'd been expecting another attempt at seduction, but something was off.

She made her way over to her bed, sitting heavily on the side of the mattress, the springs creaking under her weight. She lifted the decanter to her lips, taking a long draw from it, then sighed loudly.

"What's gotten into you, hairball?" Cooper asked.

"Everyone is going to die," she announced, waving the decanter as she loosed a bitter chuckle. "You're going to die, I'm going to die, we're all going to die!"

"Uh, why?" Cooper inquired. She was slurring her words, he had never seen her like this before. The Admiral was usually so careful about how others perceived her, she had such poise and confidence, but that was all gone now.

"The Matriarch," she continued, spilling a little of her drink on the carpet as she gestured with the decanter. "Has ordered me to turn the fleet around. We're going to charge headlong into the Coalition formation."

"That's...a bad plan," Cooper muttered.

"A glorious death...remembered forever!" Korbaz ranted. "We'll all get little medals to pin on our corpses!"

"So...the Matriarch has ordered the entire fleet to their deaths, and you're going along with that?" Cooper asked. He rose to his feet, gripping one of the bars of his cage as he peered out at her. "Have you lost your mind? The Kodiaks will tear your crawlers apart like they're made of fucking paper, it'll be a bloody massacre!"

"Lost my mind?" she wondered, taking another gulp of her wine. "No, I'm just a little drunk. The banquet was boring me, you see, and...did you always have one arm?"

Cooper stared at her in disbelief for a moment, then gestured to his loose sleeve.

"Of course I've always had one arm, you idiot! You confiscated the other one when you brought me aboard!"

"Well, that won't do," the grumbled as she rose to her feet unsteadily. She swayed for a moment, leaning on the side of the bed for balance, then moved over to the intercom on the wall. There was a hiss of static as she fumbled with the button, Cooper not quite able to hear the alien voice on the other end. "This is the Admiral, get me Vitza." Was she too drunk to remember to switch to her native language? She waited for a few seconds, the Chief Engineer presumably answering her summons. "Vitza, little Vitza, this is your Admiral. I want you to bring the human's arm to my quarters. Yes, I want you to reattach it! No, I am quite sure. Do not," she paused to hiccup, "question my orders!"

Apparently satisfied, she stumbled back over to the bed, resuming her drinking.

"What are you doing?" Cooper asked suspiciously, frowning at her as she watched him from the foot of the mattress. "Why are you giving me my arm back?"

"Because," she began, the pink liquid staining the sheets as she swung the decanter around. "You were right about me. You were right! I'm sitting there at the head of the banquet table, surrounded by Rask who would do whatever I asked of them, and all I can think about...is you."

"Me?"

"My high status has been my undoing," she lamented, taking another swig. "When I was young and ambitious, everything was exciting, new. It seemed like I was in a fight every day, and each one ended with sex that was better than the last. But," she added, another hiccup seeming to surprise her. "The higher I rose through the ranks, the fewer people were willing to challenge me. Now, I'm commanding a fleet, I am second in authority only to the Matriarch herself." She spread her arms, gesturing to the fineries that surrounded her. "I have achieved everything that I ever wanted, I could have any member of the crew that I desired, they would worship me like a goddess. Yet the idea of being doted on by servile, simpering whelps bores me to tears. All that my success has brought me is loneliness and misery."

She finished off her drink, her long, prehensile tongue snaking into the neck of the decanter to seek out the last few drops of liquid.

"Why the hell are you telling me this?" Cooper demanded, narrowing his eyes at her. "I'm not your friend, we fucking hate each other."

"Isn't it ironic?" she laughed, tossing the empty decanter onto her bed. "My enemy is my sole confidante, the only person to whom I can speak freely, the only one who will give me an honest reply."

"That still doesn't explain why you're giving me my arm back," he complained.

"Do you know what they're doing in the banquet hall right now?" she asked.

"How the fuck would I?" he shot back, "I'm in a bloody cage."

"They're having...an orgy," she continued, ignoring his outburst. "Most of the crew is fucking whoever takes their fancy, pouring wine over each other's naked, sweaty bodies. They're eating their fill of delicacies from around the planet, and I..." She stopped again, slumping her shoulders as she stared at the droplets of wine that had stained the carpet. "I can't bring myself to join in. We're supposed to be celebrating our last night alive, indulging in all of life's pleasures, yet the idea of being eaten out by another submissive Crewmaster had me turning tail."

"I'm supposed to feel bad for you because you're not in the mood for an orgy?" Cooper scoffed. "This is really professional behavior, by the way, throwing swinger's parties on your warships. No wonder you're fucking losing."

There was a chime from the door, Korbaz shouting for whoever it was to enter. Vitza came walking in with Cooper's prosthetic arm clutched in one hand, glancing between the two of them warily.

"Ah, Vitza," Korbaz began. "It's about time. Please reattach our guest's arm."

"You are...quite sure, Admiral?" he asked. He had always been so submissive when Cooper had seen him previously, he was surprised that the engineer had the stones to question her. "It's just that...it was removed because of the danger that it potentially posed to-"

"Yes, yes," she mumbled with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Just put it back on him, however you tinkerers do it..."

Vitza walked over to the cage, unlocking the door and stepping inside. He seemed wary of Cooper, even though he had no reason to want to harm the Rask. He unzipped his suit and pulled it down to his waist to expose the empty socket to the engineer, who began to reattach the prosthetic, clipping it onto the ball joint that jutted from his shoulder. With a click that Cooper felt resonate through his chest cavity, it was reattached, a flood of sensation assailing him as the synthetic nerves reestablished their lost connections. It was a little like sleeping on one's arm wrong and waking to find it numb, the tingling gradually abating as Vitza finished his work.

The engineer stepped back, Cooper flexing his polymer fingers, a smile brightening his face. He was whole once again.

Vitza hurried out of the cage and locked the door, sparing one last glance at his inebriated Admiral before making for the exit. He probably expected Cooper to tear the cage open and wring Korbaz's neck, which was certainly on the table. Weaponizing a prosthetic was illegal, but having them be magnitudes stronger and more durable than flesh and blood was an unavoidable element of their construction.

"You realize that I could choke the life out of you, right?" he asked as he eyed the Admiral.

"Flirting already?" she replied with a smirk, Cooper cocking an eyebrow at her. "You're the only person on this crawler who can give me what I want tonight," she continued, "the only one to whom my rank and status mean nothing."

"You've offered yourself to me before, and it didn't work," he replied, finally able to cross his arms in defiance once more. "What makes you think that this time is any different?"

"I don't care about interrogating you anymore," she grumbled. "All of the temptations and promises and threats were merely an attempt to get information on Coalition tanks out of you. We can't penetrate their armor, and we needed to know their weak points, some way to beat them. Doesn't matter now, we're all doomed anyway."