The Rask Rebellion

She began to pace in front of the table, feeling a hundred pairs of eyes burning into her. In spite of her uncertainty, there was no tremor in her hands, no wavering in her voice. This was her domain, diplomacy, leadership. She had been a Crewmaster, an Ambassador, an Admiral. Now, she would be a Matriarch, or she would die trying.

"The villages outside the borders of the capital starve," she continued, narrowing her eyes at her captivated audience. "The territory's vaults lie empty, the common people suffer. The bravest among the Rask are sent to die in a pointless war of her own making, a war that cannot be won, and one that she refuses to end. The Matriarch would order all of us to certain death, she would sacrifice her every loyal subject, burn the territory to the ground. All to protect herself. Is this our way?" she demanded, the crew hesitating as they looked to their Alphas for reassurance. "Is the role of the Matriarch to grow fat atop her throne while her charges go hungry?"

A few brave voices rose from the crowd to murmur their support for what Korbaz was saying, others nodding their approval quietly, whispering to one another as they discussed this unexpected turn of events. For a Rask to openly criticize the Matriarch was rare enough, never mind an Admiral.

"That's right!" she replied, gesturing to those who had spoken up. "That is not our way! In times of war, does she use those who she swore to protect as shields?"

More of them were taking part now, their comrades gaining confidence as they heard their cries, the low murmuring punctuated by shouts of approval.

"Should she indulge in every pleasure that life has to offer, furnishing her warships with banquet halls and silk drapes, while her people endure poverty?"

The consensus was becoming clear. The majority of the crew were unabashedly supporting Korbaz, while some glanced around them with expressions of concern or bewilderment etched onto their faces.

"I led you here because I believed in the Matriarch's cause just as you all did," Korbaz continued, the chorus of voices going quiet. "I saw the Coalition reject our proposals, drown out our votes, outlaw our way of life. I trusted her to find a solution, but this is not it. Despite our valiant efforts, the fleet has been defeated. Right now, the Matriarch fortifies the territory in the hopes of repelling a Coalition invasion. That, too, will fail. To admit that is not cowardice, it is reason, and we must now evaluate our options."

It wasn't much of a pep talk, the crew exchanging more concerned glances.

"We will not be engaging the Coalition formation today," she added, hearing more than a few sighs of relief. "The humans have agreed to meet with us to discuss terms, but I do not intend for this to be a surrender. Far from it," she added with a snarl. "We shall join with our old allies, we shall march on the East Gate, and I shall issue my challenge to the Matriarch. I will depose her...or die in the process. Are you with me?"

Some rose to their feet to cheer her on, more following behind them, their roars filling the banquet hall. Gazga crossed his arms, nodding his bald head in approval, Torzi's grin widening. Korbaz felt her heart swell with pride, their cries reinvigorating her, warming her belly.

A few were still sitting in defiance, some baring their teeth, their ears flattened. The two factions had to be separated quickly to prevent fights from breaking out.

"I will not punish those who remain loyal to their Matriarch," Korbaz shouted, getting their attention again. "I understand how you feel, and your conviction is to be commended. You must, however, be confined to the brig until this affair has concluded. I do not need to explain why I do not want potential saboteurs running around my crawler."

With a wave of her hand, a dozen armored guards who had been waiting by the walls moved in to corral the dissenters. They went quietly, as they had little choice, glaring at Korbaz with eyes full of hate. She was an oath-breaker to them, a usurper.

"Not a bad turnout," Torzi muttered, stepping closer so that Korbaz could hear her over the chorus of excited conversations. "You only lost ten percent, I'd say."

"The Admiral has led them straight so far," Gazga added, "and she will lead them straight yet."

***

Cooper stood around the holographic table with Korbaz and her two lackeys, the bridge crew giving him odd looks as they sat at their control panels. Somehow, Vitza must have managed to hook up an old tactical array from a salvaged frigate, he had no idea where else they could have gotten something like this.

"You should arm yourself, Admiral," the one called Gazga said. He was one of the captains of the other crawlers, an older guy with all of his hair, and half of his face melted off. Cooper could sympathize. "To treat with your enemies unarmed is akin to exposing your belly."

The other was named Torzi, and she kept giving him funny looks, like a cat watching a bird through a window. He got the sense that Korbaz was acting as the glass in this case.

"That is not their way," Korbaz replied, removing more of the holsters from around her waist. She had a whole arsenal of knives and crude revolvers that looked like they had been made by teenagers in shop class, setting them on a nearby table with loud thuds that conveyed their immense weight. "The humans treat empty-handed. They were always very careful to confiscate my weapons when I attended Security Council meetings on their station."

"Yeah, mutually assured destruction isn't something we like to bring to the negotiating table," Cooper added.

"This one speaks out of turn," Torzi said, those yellow eyes fixing on him again. "How can you resist correcting him?"

"We need him," Korbaz replied, turning to stare down her counterpart. "I would have you stop salivating over him like a fresh cut of meat, Crewmaster. Show some restraint."

Torzi seemed irritated, crossing her arms and muttering to herself.

"Let's go over the plan again," Cooper said, the aliens watching him as he pointed to the holographic map. "The three crawlers have been told to hold position here, just inside the range of the Coalition's artillery. They then want us to take a few smaller vehicles and drive out to the formation, where we'll be boarding the Yagda. That's our HQ vehicle, think of it as a flagship. There, you'll be negotiating what happens next. If you do any weird Rask shit, you'll be fucked by the thorny cock of the artillery company, so behave yourselves."

"Such negotiations are normally conducted on neutral ground," Gazga grumbled, walking around the table as he examined the translucent map. "Do they mean to insult us?"

"You don't have a leg to stand on right now," Cooper replied. "It's their way or the highway. Korbaz, you're going to have to sell this. You have to make them believe that you can depose the Matriarch, or they'll have no good reason to let you leave the Yagda. I can only do so much to help convince them."

"It is risky," Torzi hissed. "They fully admit their intentions to imprison you if an agreement is not reached."

"Cooper is right," Korbaz said with a resigned sigh. "This is the only course of action that remains to us. If we are to return home, it can only be in the company of the Coalition."

"I think they're gonna bite," Cooper added, leaning on the table with his prosthetic arm. "The Coalition wants a quick end to the war, and backing you is the quickest way to end it."

"The hour draws near," Korbaz muttered, "we should make our way to the gantry. You two should return to your crawlers and ensure that the situation there is under control. I would have you leave any dissidents who rear their heads unharmed, simply lock them away, and they can be dealt with when the dust has cleared. I suspect that most will come around once our task is complete."

"Then we have nothing left to discuss," Gazga said, bowing his bald head. Torzi did the same, though it seemed somehow insincere to Cooper. "Best of luck, Admiral," Gazga added as he made for the door.

Cooper waited for them to leave, then turned to face Korbaz, who was brooding over the table.

"We going on a road trip?" he asked.

"It is time," she replied. "Follow me."

They made their way out of the makeshift conning tower, climbing down a Borealan-sized ladder into one of the lavish prefabs, then down a second ladder into the industrial bowels of the crawler. She led him through the winding passages until they reached a door, Korbaz opening it to reveal a room that was packed with weapons. Rifles and assorted gear was hanging from the walls on racks, it must be an armory. She walked over to one of the tables, its surface strewn with XMR parts, lifting a helmet. He recognized the cracked visor, it was the one that he had been wearing when he had been captured.

"This is yours," she said, thrusting it into his arms. "You will need it if you are to venture outside. This also belongs to you," she added, passing him his wrist-mounted computer. He wasted no time securing it around his forearm, the display lighting up as he tapped at the touch panel with his prosthetic fingers.

"Thank God," he sighed, Korbaz cocking her head at him. "Vitza didn't wipe my Tetris scores."

"Tetris scores?" she asked.

"It gets boring sitting in that turret for hours at a time," he said, switching it off again. He slotted his helmet over his head, the HUD flaring to life in spite of the damage. There was something oddly comforting about its familiar smell. He must look a state now, he was basically in Rask uniform. Korbaz had given him a leather jacket that he suspected was probably intended for someone's child, and he was wearing the remnants of his pressure suit as boots and pants, as the torso had been torn up during their heated negotiations the night prior. It should be enough to protect him from the storm, at least.

They returned to the corridors, Korbaz leading him to another bulky door that obviously led outside. The Admiral gripped the wheel-shaped handle, the mechanism creaking as she began to turn it.

"Hey," he began, Korbaz pausing to glance down at him. "If this whole thing goes belly-up, I just wanted you to know...you're a fuckwit." She raised an eyebrow at him, Cooper giving her a playful punch on the thigh. "But...if I was going to be taken hostage against my will again, you'd be the first war criminal on my list."

"I am starting to think that I will never understand humans," she sighed, shaking her head as she cracked the door open. Howling wind poured into the hallway, the Admiral pulling down a pair of goggles and lifting a cloth mask to cover her nose and mouth. Cooper followed her out, his stomach lurching as he gripped the guard rail, looking down to realize that he was a good fifty feet in the air. The storm created an almost impenetrable haze, limiting his visibility. None of the view modes on his visor were able to penetrate the sepia fog.

They walked along a metal platform that creaked worryingly under Korbaz's weight, Cooper craning his neck as he marveled at the crawler's immensity. It looked like a huge piece of specialized industrial equipment that one would only expect to find in some massive planetside mining operation. The wind was so strong that he felt compelled to keep a hand on the rail, fearing that he'd be blown off balance and sent toppling to the desert below.

They arrived at the extended gantry, making their way down to the ground.

When he felt loose sand beneath his prosthetic foot, Cooper turned to gaze up at the behemoth, so tall that the prefabs on its deck were partially obscured by the dust clouds. Korbaz hurried him along, a small cluster of vehicles coming into view. There were three of the technicals that he had seen during the last battle, civilian trucks that had been converted into military vehicles. They were covered in crude armor, railgun turrets mounted behind the cabs, and one of them had an enclosed passenger compartment. That one was probably going to be their VIP transport.

A few meters off to their right was a welcome sight, a UNN Timberwolf, an armored scout vehicle with a gun pod mounted on the roof. That must be their escort. If they felt like it, those guys could tear the little convoy to shreds with that thirty-mill. Better hope that everything went smoothly and that nobody on either side got twitchy.

There were a pair of armed guards waiting for them beside the enclosed technical, bowing as Korbaz approached, one of them opening a door for her like a limo driver. She climbed inside, and Cooper entered after her, finding the interior just as makeshift as the exterior. The vehicle's chassis had obviously been rebuilt to accommodate larger occupants at some point, and four Rask-sized bucket seats had been installed. Cooper was amused to see that there were little slots for their tails.

They strapped in, the two guards entering after them, one of them banging his fist on the back of the cab to alert the driver that they were ready to set off. The swell of an engine made the seat vibrate, Cooper feeling the suspension bounce as they set off. The small viewports in the passenger compartment were shuttered, and it was too noisy to have a real conversation, Cooper feeling his stomach lurch as they descended a dune. He wasn't sure how long they had been driving for exactly, he hadn't bothered to check the clock on his computer, but he was relieved to get out of the oversized seat when they eventually arrived.

When he stepped out the technical, he found himself surrounded by UNN vehicles. They were right in the center of the formation, with the Yagda and the artillery company. Avalanches were parked all around him, their massive railguns pointing towards the sky, ready to shell the crawlers if the order came. They ostensibly resembled Kodiaks, being built from the same basic chassis, but the turrets had been replaced with massive artillery guns that could sling a shell over a hundred kilometers away.

The Yagda loomed over everything like a vengeful God. At thirty meters long, and around five hundred tons, it was the largest tank ever fielded by the Coalition. The railgun that was mounted on the forward turret would have made a frigate feel inadequate, its curving hull ringed by sponsons to protect it from boarders. The only way that such a large vehicle could even get around was using an inverted AG field that was projected from beneath the tank to create a kind of anti-gravity cushion, not unlike a hovercraft, thrusters allowing it to coast around. It was the first time that Cooper had ever seen one up close, but he had followed its development with great interest. Actually being able to set foot inside it would have been a rare treat had the circumstances been a little different.

"What is that?" Korbaz wondered, a hint of fear creeping into her voice. The guards stopped to stare as they exited the technical, seeming equally intimidated. "Is this the thing that my scouts reported seeing?"

"That's the next generation of UNN fighting vehicles," he replied proudly, "the Yagda heavy assault platform. It's the product of Martian ingenuity and flaming mountains of tax credits. It's a siege weapon, designed for taking out Bug fortifications. I didn't mention it on the off chance that you'd let the Matriarch know, but that's what she's going up against if she tries to fortify the East Gate."

A large ramp at the rear of the giant tank began to lower to the ground, a group of a dozen armored Marines descending, marching towards the Rask convoy in two columns. They were armed with PDWs, which suggested that they were part of the Yagda's crew. They crossed the short distance, one of them stopping to address Korbaz through his helmet's speakers.

"Admiral Korbaz, Corporal Cooper, we're here to escort you to the meeting." He had a slight Indian accent, suggesting that he was probably Martian himself. "Please follow us in, and leave your guards behind."

Cooper gave Korbaz a nod in an attempt to reassure her, and they began their walk to the Yagda, the Marines flanking them. It wasn't exactly clear who they were protecting, it felt a little like being marched to an execution.

He had a chance to admire the vectoring thrusters on the tank as they neared it. They were spaced all around the vaguely oval-shaped base, making it look more like a spaceship than a ground vehicle. They were constantly releasing little puffs of blue flame to keep the thing stable in the storm, angling themselves, flexing like living appendages. The underside was completely flat, covered in scorched heat tiles, particles of sand floating serenely through the air as they entered the AG field and became weightless.

The ramp was more like the loading ramp for a cargo shuttle than a troop ramp, so large that one of the technicals could probably have driven up it. In contrast to the desert camo of the outer hull, the interior was all whitewashed, having more in common with the interior of a spacecraft than the cramped crew compartments that he was accustomed to.

They were escorted inside a cargo bay that was loaded with supply crates. It was small in comparison to that of a spacecraft, but the fact that a tank even had room for such a thing was a marvel in itself. They were led through an automatic door and into a corridor with many more side doors, Korbaz having to duck to avoid hitting her head on the ceiling. These would be crew quarters, the infirmary, and other such facilities. One of the doors opened to reveal an elevator shaft that led to the upper deck. There was no car, only a disk-shaped platform inside a featureless, white tube. One of the guards accompanied them inside, hitting a touch panel on the wall, the disk beginning to rise. It was a smooth ride, leading Cooper to guess that it might be electromagnetic. It certainly saved space over stairs.

The platform came to a stop, Korbaz slowly crouching as her headroom diminished, and they emerged into what must be the bridge of the Yagda. It wasn't unlike the conning tower of the crawler, with a large table in the center that was projecting a holographic display of the battlefield, the room ringed by personnel who were sitting at consoles. There had been no windows visible from the exterior, but displays lined the curved walls, showing video feeds from cameras mounted on the hull. They were up fairly high, giving them a great view of the surrounding artillery company.

One of the men stepped away from the circular table. He was wearing a Navy-blue pressure suit like the rest of the crew, but the rank slides on his shoulders identified him as a Lieutenant Colonel. He had a tanned complexion, his accent confirming his Martian origin. English was spoken just as much as Hindi on the colony, but everyone who grew up there seemed to pick up the accent, it was ubiquitous in the domes.

"My name is Lieutenant Colonel Sarif," he said. "I'm commanding this operation, and this vehicle."

Cooper saluted reflexively, his prosthetic whirring, Korbaz peering down at the man.

"I'm Corporal Cooper, sir," he replied. "This is Admiral Korbaz."

"I have to say, I was surprised when I saw your broadcast," Sarif continued as he looked them up and down suspiciously. "The Rask forces that we have encountered so far have been so committed to their task that it bordered on suicidal. To have the remainder of the Matriarchy fleet suddenly surrender is an unexpected turn of events, to say the least. Not to mention the fact that said surrender was delivered by a Kodiak gunner who was declared MIA days ago. Perhaps you two can illuminate me?"

The elevator door opened again, Cooper and Korbaz turning their heads as another figure entered the bridge. He was clad in a black BDU, the ceramic armor that he wore over the top of it the same charcoal color. There was nothing standard-issue about his uniform, it was heavily customized, the chest rig loaded with gadgets and electronics. The first thing that really jumped out at Cooper was the man's eyes, or lack thereof. His helmet was dangling from a strap on his hip, leaving his head exposed, revealing a pair of advanced prosthetics where his eyes should have been. It looked like someone had pushed a pair of camera lenses into his empty sockets, the faded scars on his face suggesting that he had probably lost the originals in battle.