The Rask Rebellion

A blue sphere appeared around the Rask territory as the LT pressed a button on his remote, gesturing to it as he continued.

"We don't know how many of these weapons the Rask still have, or where they're located within the territory. Since they've completely locked us out of orbit, the fleet can't launch a planetary invasion in the manner that they usually would. What's more, see that bastard behind me?" he asked as he pointed past the hologram. On the horizon was a rising wall of sand, so large that it seemed to cast the land beneath it into shadow. It was far-off, but Ben could already see flashes of lighting in the roiling clouds. "That there is a sandstorm that would make a Martian think twice about stepping out of his dome. We ain't flying anything through that, and it's going to last for months. The Rask timed their attack to coincide with their storm season."

With another press of the remote, a dotted line was drawn between the two territories.

"The only way to secure the Rask launch sites is from the ground, and the only way to get there is across roughly two-thousand kilometers of the harshest terrain that this planet has to offer. We're going to drive from Elysia to Rask in an armored column," he said, the view changing again to show a representation of the formation. "Mechanized companies Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie will be heading straight to the target, with the artillery company bringing up the rear. As the recon company, our job will be to scout ahead to provide advanced warning of any dangerous terrain or enemy activities. We're also going to be reinforced by a prototype vehicle that I'm told will be acting as a mobile HQ. Companies Delta, Echo, and Foxtrot will be heading to Araxie to bolster their defenses."

He pressed the remote again, the view zooming in on the Rask territory to show a large lake that was surrounded by a broken band of jungle. Sand flowed through the gaps in the foliage, penetrating the interior in a way that looked unnatural to Ben. It seemed somehow damaged, wrong.

"Once we reach the target, Recon's job will be to scout out this large break in the jungle. The Rask call it the East Gate, and it's the only way we're getting armor through those trees. We expect it to be heavily defended, but the drive there should be relatively quiet. Based on our intelligence, the Rask don't have any armored vehicles. They were never supplied with any tanks or troop carriers by the Coalition. They're using modern XMRs, which could potentially pose a threat to light vehicles if they get a lucky shot in, but they can't do much to a Timberwolf. That said, we don't know what other technology they might have been able to obtain illicitly on top of the MASTs, so take nothing for granted."

The Lieutenant closed the holographic presentation, clasping his hands behind his back as he continued.

"The Borealan desert is completely uncharted, and without satellite imaging, we're going to have to do things the old-fashioned way. That means eyeballs on the ground. We are pathfinders, our main goal is to locate the safest possible route for the armored columns. Keep that in mind, and report anything that you come across, no matter how trivial you think it might be. We roll out in an hour. Dismissed."

The crowd began to disperse, Ben grunting as Mizi leapt down from his shoulders, landing on the sand beside him.

"We have our orders," he said, glancing at his alien companions. "Let's get moving."

***

"All systems green, Commander," Mizi said. She was sat in the driver's seat, just ahead of him and to his left. The cab was downright spacious by her standards. She had to lower the seat to reach the pedals, but she could practically lounge in the oversized chair. There was even a little vent for her tail.

Lozka was to his far left, and she was faring a little worse. There was enough room for her, the Timberwolf was built to accommodate a Borealan, but her seat was far more cramped. Ben found his command chair just about right. The consoles and monitors were a little close, but it was cozy. He was used to operating these vehicles, and that certainly helped. While some might see the armored hull as claustrophobic and stifling, it gave him a sense of security. More than once, he had relied upon it to get him out of deadly situations.

The three displays that were suspended at head-height flared to life, showing readouts from the sensor equipment, and camera feeds from the vehicle's exterior. Ben adjusted his chair a little, then began to flick switches and scroll through touch menus.

"Mizi showed you how to operate the turret, right?" he asked. Lozka glanced over at him, her furry brow furrowing. She had taken off her dark goggles now, revealing eyes like a pair of emeralds, so strikingly green. They reflected the light like those of a cat, her pupils shrunken down to narrow slits.

"I believe I understand its function, but I have not practiced. I must say, Alph...Commander, I prefer to use my real eyes when I aim, to feel the wind in my hair so that I might compensate for it. This console makes me feel...detached."

"Trust me," he replied, reaching up to tap at one of the touch panels. "You won't need to compensate. If you can see a target, then a railgun can hit it in the blink of an eye, you don't need to worry about windage. Just put the crosshair over the target and pull the trigger. You can raise your chair and get a look out of the hatch if you need to, but don't do that in combat."

"I hunt using my ears and my nose, I track footprints in the sand, I watch for disturbances in the underbrush. How can I be of use from within the belly of this vehicle? Its steel walls stifle my senses."

"We'll probably need to get out at some point to investigate terrain features more closely, so you can flex your tracking muscles then," he replied. "For now, just watch the monitors and let us know if you see anything out of place. We're going to be driving far ahead of the main formation, so we'll be the first to encounter whatever's out there."

He glanced apprehensively at the camera feed from the front of the vehicle. The roiling plume of sand still loomed on the horizon like a monster waiting to eat them, bright flashes of electrical discharge dancing between the dust clouds.

"Do you have any idea of what we might encounter?" he asked.

"Somewhat," Lozka replied. "My people have always remained within the borders of our territory, but we have left it on occasion in pursuit of raiders. I have never been as far out as this, though, and my people have had little contact with outsiders until very recently. I know little of the open desert save for legends and rumors."

"Tell us one!" Mizi insisted, peering back at the feline.

"I do not believe that we only have Rask to worry about," she replied. "Even after the colonization of the lakes, the deserts are not entirely uninhabited. Outlaws, nomadic tribes, and other groups still remain. The Elysians speak of encountering tribes during their expeditions who spoke no known tongue, and who lived as our ancestors did millennia ago. They responded with fear and hostility to sandships, so I do not know how they would react to seeing a vehicle as strange as this one."

"What's a sandship?" Ben asked.

"A conveyance used by the Rask and Elysians to cross great distances. They are large, wooden platforms that catch the wind in their sails."

"Oh, I think I've seen those before," he said with a nod. "How big are we talking? The ones I'm familiar with seat maybe a couple of people. They race them on beaches on the West coast."

"Far larger, as I am told," Lozka replied. "They can ferry crews of thirty or more across the sands."

"Damn, that's a lot bigger than I was imagining. It sounds more like a galleon on wheels. My ancestors built similar ships, but they floated on water oceans. How about you, Mizi? Did your ancestors sail?"

"The Val'ba'ra'nay have always been obsessed with flight," she replied. "My foreflocks navigated our planet's oceans in ekranoplans."

"What the hell is that?" he asked.

"An ekranoplan? It's kind of halfway between a boat and a plane. When it attains sufficient speed, the lift created by its wings allows it to fly a short distance off the surface of the water."

"Interesting," he muttered. "Hang on, got something coming through on the comms."

There was a hiss of static in his helmet, and then he heard the Lieutenant's voice.

"Heads up, Golf. The Martians are dropping in the Yagda. If you want to get a look at the tank of the future, then point your cameras at the following coordinates..."

"Looks like the Martians are breaking out their new toy," Ben said. "Lozka, you're up. Enter these coordinates into the turret's targeting system like Mizi showed you, and keep it trained on the tank. I want to get a good look at this thing."

She fumbled with the unfamiliar controls for a minute, then managed to get the cameras on target, Ben and Mizi switching to her feed so that they could watch. There was something entering the atmosphere, he could see the glow of the flames. He waited for it to stop growing, but it just kept getting larger and larger as it descended towards the ground. Whatever it was, it was vaguely oval-shaped, slightly more pointed towards the near end. It was ringed by a dozen thrusters, jets of blue flame spewing forth as it decelerated. There was some kind of frame around it, which was also shooting jets of hydrogen flame.

As it drew closer, his eyes widened, the finer details jumping out at him. It was a colossal tank. It must have been thirty meters long and half as wide, its mass couldn't have been less than five hundred tons. Its underside was completely smooth, slightly rounded, without any sign of wheels or tracks. It was covered in a layer of flame-blasted tiles that were still glowing bright orange with residual heat.

The frame that carried it was some kind of dedicated lander, the vessel designed so that the armored vehicle fit snugly beneath it. Four reinforced jibs projected out to its sides, gripping the edges of the tank like a giant claw. Its cockpit was situated far to the front, its nose overhanging its passenger, obscuring much of it from view. There were massive, downward-facing thrusters on the arms, each one spewing a plume of fire as it neared the ground. The craft seemed to have been purpose-designed to carry this behemoth. The tank was actually helping it to shed velocity, it was close enough that he could make out the thruster nozzles now.

The lander and its enormous passenger descended until they were only a few meters off the ground, then they began to hover, their engines kicking up a cloud of dust. Their thrusters were putting out so much heat that he could see the sand directly beneath them starting to turn to glass. The vessel sported the typical Martial regalia, crimson livery adorning its ocean-grey hull. The tank's sloping chassis was painted with desert camo, but he still couldn't make it out clearly.

The lander shuddered as it released its charge, Ben glued to his monitor as he watched it drop. He waited for it to crater into the ground, but it stopped just short of it, bouncing as though it had landed on an invisible cushion of air. The lander rose out of frame, Lozka keeping the camera focused on the tank.

Seen from the side, its profile was smooth and rounded, designed to deflect enemy fire. Its camouflaged hull was covered in more heat tiles, likely to absorb and dissipate the energy from Bug plasma weapons. The main turret was situated much further forward than that of the Kodiak, the lenses of its optics package reflecting the sun. The railgun barrel must have been ten meters long, more akin to those that were mounted on spacecraft, the muzzle device the size of a truck tire. It didn't look like it could swivel a full three hundred and sixty degrees, as its chassis rose up behind it to block it, almost like the canopy on a baby carriage.

There were three large, streamlined sponsons on each flank, long gun barrels now emerging from them. They reminded Ben of a World War One tank, and that might not be too far off. Those vehicles had primarily fought against infantry, and this craft might well have the same design philosophy. The guns had every angle covered, letting it mow down hordes of Betelgeusians if they should attempt to surround it. There were two blisters facing backwards to protect the rear, as well as an additional blister atop the main turret. There was also what looked like a CIWS suite mounted atop the raised section of the hull behind the main gun, now rising from its protective hatch.

It began to move, using its thrusters to maneuver as it glided along, completely frictionless. It looked like it was sliding on ice. As it turned, he got a view of the troop ramp at the rear, the supertank heading off to join the mechanized companies that were preparing for their journey into the desert. It might be effectively weightless, but it still had mass. He could see its thrusters working to control its inertia.

Ben whistled, switching his view back to the sensor readouts.

"So that's their secret, the Martians have figured out anti-gravity. They must have found some way to invert an AG field to act as a repulsor. Fucking madmen, there's no other way they could build a tank that big and not have it sink in the first mud puddle they tried to drive it through."

"It looks more like a frigate than a tank," Mizi added, Ben laughing at her observation.

"That it does. I think that main gun might even be a one hundred millimeter, they're usually mounted on carriers and Clovis frigates."

Feeling a little better with that monstrosity at their back, Ben turned his attention back to his readouts. He brought up a map of the desert, examining the alien topography. These satellite images weren't up to date, but they gave him a pretty good idea of the kind of terrain that they might encounter. The Borealan desert was far from uniform. There were dune oceans that were constantly shifting, shaped by the harsh winds, along with massive salt flats that looked like the remnants of long-dead lakes. There were smaller oases scattered about which seemed to come and go with the changing seasons, making them unreliable, and he could see rocky plateaus that rose above the sands.

Ben felt a surge of excitement well up inside him. As apprehensive as he was about their mission, there was a whole world out there to explore, and nobody had any idea what they were going to find.

"Sending you coordinates, Mizi," he announced as he tapped at his touch panel. "Whenever you're ready."

She was ready now, apparently, the little alien revving the engine. The Timberwolf pulled away from the nearby column of Kodiaks and IFVs, kicking up a cloud of dust behind it as its tires churned up the sand, reaching its top speed of one hundred and twenty kilometers per hour in a matter of seconds. They were on scrubland that was almost completely flat, blazing towards the sand dunes that rose above them like mountains in the distance. Behind them was the ever-looming storm, blotting out the sky. Ben's every instinct told him to go in the opposite direction, but there was no avoiding it. The Rask had made sure of that.

They ran over a bump, the suspension doing a great job of absorbing it, but making the vehicle bounce all the same. Lozka reached up to grip a handhold on the ceiling reflexively, her eyes wide with alarm.

"How are you doing, Lozka?" Ben asked as he watched her fasten her harness a little tighter. "First time in an Earth vehicle?"

"I feel queasy," she muttered, bouncing in her padded seat again. Mizi was turning out to be a little roadhog.

"Keep your eyes on the monitor," Ben advised, "it helps with motion sickness. You can pop the hatch for some fresh air if you want, but watch you don't get blasted by sand. We're going pretty fast."

It took a good half hour for them to get clear of the scrubland, the Timberwolf finally reaching the foot of the first sand dunes. Ben was pleased to see Mizi slow up. She wasn't going to try to ramp the thing off the first crest. The truck slowed to a crawl, the Mizi turning in her seat to look back at him as she awaited his instructions. They didn't seem to be much for taking the initiative, these Valbarans. Maybe it was part of their whole flock thing.

"Hold tight," Ben said, turning to his console. "I'm gonna pop a drone and see what we're dealing with here before we proceed."

He keyed in the command, hearing a dull thud reverberate through the hull as one of the six launch tubes along their flanks shot a drone up into the air. Once it had reached an appropriate altitude, its four rotors unfolded, and it began to hover in place. It fed a wireless signal back to the Timberwolf, its video feed opening in a window on one of his monitors. He could see a view of their vehicle from above, along with all of the terrain around it, Ben gripping a joystick as he began to fly it ahead of them. These dunes went on for miles, he'd have to keep the drone up until its battery ran out, and then swap to another. It didn't take long for him to start plotting a safe course, feeding the navigation data to Mizi's console.

"Take it slow, Mizi," he warned as she began to accelerate. "It's hard to get a Wolf stuck, but that doesn't mean it can't happen. This sand is loose, you're gonna be sliding a lot."

"Got it, Commander," she replied as she drove them forwards.

"Lozka," he continued, getting the reluctant Araxie's attention. "From now on, you're our lookout. Get on the gun and keep watch for anything out of place. If you see anything, no matter how mundane it seems, let me know about it."

She nodded, gripping her joystick as she turned her emerald eyes to the feed from the blister that was mounted on the roof. Ben had been a little apprehensive about serving with two aliens, but at least they were obedient, he'd give them that.

***

They drove through the dunes for hours, each one punctuated by a slow climb, and then a more rapid descent that made Ben's stomach lurch. He fed data back to the main formation all the while, informing them of potential hazards, and letting them know the safest way through the ocean of sand.

The Borealans hadn't been romanticizing it when they had referred to it that way. The dunes were almost like waves running in slow motion, constantly shifting in the wind, changing the topography day by day. What had been a safe route one day would not be the next, he needed to keep that in mind when he reported back to the column.

Lozka hadn't picked up anything so far, and he hadn't seen anything in the dunes beside sand. The uninterrupted expanse of yellow was starting to give him a kind of snow-blindness. As he glanced at the seismic sensor on his display, usually used to check for tunneling Bugs, he noticed an anomalous blip.

"Hold up," he said, his two companions glancing at him. "Got something here, not sure what it is."

"What do you see?" Lozka asked, Mizi slowing their advance as she waited for further instructions.

"Not sure, there's something tripping the seismic sensor. It's not that big, but it's fairly close, maybe a hundred meters at forty degrees. Lozka, you seeing anything on the feed?"

"Forty degrees?" she asked, confused.

"North-West of us," Ben elaborated. "The magnetic poles on this planet are a bit fucky, but you have a digital compass on your display. It's that numbered circle there."

"Oh," she muttered, turning the turret's cameras in that direction. She grumbled after staring at the monitor for a moment, seeming frustrated by something, then she released her hold on the joystick. Ben watched as she reached up to open the hatch, sticking her upper body out of the cab to get a look with her organics.