The Rask Rebellion

"It certainly has the maneuverability and firepower needed," Korbaz mused, inspecting the mounted gun. It was the same as those that she had seen the Krell carrying on the station, an LMG with a gun shield, and a drum magazine. It was large enough that even a Rask might have found it unwieldy to lug into battle.

"This is just the beginning," the Matriarch continued, walking around the side of the vehicle. She climbed inside and gripped the wheel-shaped control device in her hands, Korbaz slipping into the bucket seat beside her. Vitza slid into one of the seats at the rear, there were four in all. They began to drive, the Matriarch seeming to take pleasure in revving the engine as they weaved through the narrow streets, the treaded tires kicking up clouds of dust.

"The humans cannot even control their own territory, let alone ours," she sneered. "We are in contact with several pirate syndicates who have been able to smuggle us a great deal of advanced equipment over the years. They provided us with torpedoes for the right price. Vitza?"

The male would not speak without her permission, leaning between their seats as he began to elaborate.

"They are called MASTs, interdiction weapons that have cleared the skies of Coalition ships, denying them their greatest advantage. We've been able to create a three hundred and sixty league perimeter around our territory in which we can operate without fear of attack from the skies. Once the sandstorms are at their worst, they will be unable to track our movements from space."

"Then, you have forced them to the ground?" Korbaz asked, impressed.

"Their vaunted ships dare not come within range," the Matriarch chuckled. "It is my belief that the humans will attempt to cross the desert by land and disable the launchers so that their fleet can restore control. I have ordered them to be hidden within the city to deter the aliens from simply calculating the origin point of the launch, and firing on it from space."

"How many do we have?" Korbaz asked.

"Fewer than I would have our enemies believe, but it matters not," the Matriarch replied. "The humans will assume that we have the power to down more of their ships until they are all secure and accounted for. Am I correct in my assessment?"

"Indeed, Matriarch," Korbaz replied as the vehicle rounded a tight corner. "They will not risk their assets as long as doubt remains."

They cleared the city streets before long, driving out into the barren scrubland between the jungle band and the lake. The glint of metal was visible in the distance, even through the swirling sand that was filling the air, Korbaz narrowing her eyes as she tried to make it out. A giant shadow slowly took form, a behemoth, the Matriarch smiling at her shocked expression.

As they neared, it only grew larger, a gigantic vehicle on a set of four tracks coming into view. It was like a mobile fortress, at least eighty meters long, and maybe fifteen meters high. The monstrous tracks alone were the size of an average building. The rows of round wheels drove enormous treads made from interlocking slabs of metal, like the tracks of a giant tank. It had a flat deck, upon which were mounted a litany of weapons. There were triple-barreled cannons with strange, white bulbs mounted atop them, what looked like camera lenses catching the sun as they swiveled around of their own accord. She could make out three massive railgun turrets from this angle, along with a missile launcher that was positioned towards the front of the craft, elevated on a large piston. The whole thing had been painted in desert colors, the ocean-grey of the gun turrets masked by crude desert camo. Towards the rear of the deck was a blocky building that rose into the air, a radar dish mounted on top of what looked almost like a conning tower. Its walls had been reinforced with armored plates, the windows protected by metal slats.

"How have you done this?" Korbaz asked, her tone of voice conveying her awe.

"They would not sell us ships or tanks, and so we made our own," the Matriarch replied proudly as she drove towards the thing. "These were by far our most costly purchase, but it was necessary if we were going to enact our plan. Vitza, elaborate."

"These are called crawlers," he explained from the back seat. "They are used to transport ultra-heavy cargo and launch vehicles in human spaceports. They move very slowly, but they can carry an enormous load. We were able to buy several of them under the pretense of using them for mining operations."

As the Matriarch began to circle the crawler, Korbaz was able to examine it in more detail. It was indeed industrial in nature, everything was huge, overengineered. It was almost square in shape, perhaps sixty meters wide, with one of the reinforced treads positioned on each corner to spread the weight out evenly. Each one was like a tank in its own right, with two sets of tracks, seemingly able to turn and pivot where it joined to the chassis. She could see now that there were six of the railgun turrets mounted on the deck, and four cannons on each corner, situated just above the tracks. There was a girth to the thing, the doors that were spaced out along its chassis at intervals suggesting that one could go inside it. An extending gantry led up to a platform that ringed the entire thing, and she could see the spots where the Rask had been welding sheets of scrap to its hull to serve as supplemental protection.

"This one is equipped with six Naval railguns that were salvaged from a scrapped UNN frigate," Vitza continued, "and the missile launcher was taken from the bed of an old military truck. Those four cannons are called CIWS guns, they are automated defensive weapons, able to engage incoming threats under their own power. They were recovered from an abandoned UNN base on Hades, smuggled to us before the operation there was disrupted. The crawlers are powered by a nuclear reactor, allowing them to run indefinitely, for all intents and purposes."

"Are you speechless, Vice Admiral?" the Matriarch asked. She spared her a satisfied glance before turning her eyes back to the path ahead. "Tell me what you think."

"They will be...more effective than sandships," Korbaz replied, the Matriarch's booming laughter filling the cab. "I do not understand, my Matriarch. How did you build something like this? For all our ingenuity, surely this must be beyond our means?"

"When we bought the crawlers, the company sent teams of engineers to assemble them on the ground," she explained. "The service was included as part of the purchase. As for the modifications, well, humans are ruled by wealth. The trader who obtained the salvaged railgun turrets for us was happy to oversee their installation for an extra fee. The rest, I left up to Vitza and his team."

"How do you expect they will perform against the UNN?" Korbaz asked the timid male.

"They would not be used to engage the aliens directly, of course," he replied. "The main gun of a UNN tank could easily cripple them. But these weapons will allow indirect fire, which means that the crews can hit targets from over the horizon with explosive shells and missiles as long as our scouts can spot them. More importantly, they will remain mobile, always on the move to avoid detection."

"How many do you have?" Korbaz asked.

"Six, including this one. We have built two battleships, three carriers, and one command ship."

"Carriers?" Korbaz inquired, leaning out of the cab and craning her neck as they passed beneath the titanic vehicle. It was like looking up at a metal sky, its underside crisscrossed by structural supports and unidentifiable machinery.

"They'll be carrying vehicles such as this one, deploying them to harass the Coalition's ground forces. It will extend their range immensely, and it allows us to service and rearm them in the field. We've used prefab buildings to serve as barracks and garages for the crews, the same that humans use to establish their colonies on remote planets. They're a little cramped by our standards, but I think we can make do."

"And the command ship?" Korbaz continued, turning her attention back to the Matriarch.

"It is the flagship of our fleet," she replied, "designed to coordinate the rest of the crawlers. It now belongs to you."

"It's...mine?" Korbaz asked, not understanding what she was hearing.

"I am promoting you to Fleet Admiral, Korbaz. You will captain the command crawler and oversee the operation. You have the experience, the loyalty, the necessary knowledge of the humans. This will be the largest and most costly raid ever undertaken by our people. It must not fail."

"You honor me, Matriarch," Korbaz replied with a bow of her head. "I will not let you down."

"Once the UNN has been expelled from our lands, we will use these titans to control the deserts. With just one or two of these, we could hold entire territories hostage, dominate all trade on the planet. Imagine one of these pulling up outside Elysia, threatening to bombard their city from beyond the jungle band unless they pay a tithe. We can plow through the Araxie jungle and snap their precious trees like twigs, churning up their damned ghosts under our treads."

"We could rekindle the glory of our ancestors," Korbaz nodded, feeling pride well in her chest.

The Matriarch pulled up beside the battleship, their vehicle skidding to a stop as she hit the brakes. She seemed to have quite some experience with this machine, perhaps she had been practicing for her own amusement. The sandstorm was in full swing now, limiting their visibility, the sound of airborne particles whipping against their vehicle's chassis like rain on a tin roof. The three of them dismounted, turning to face the crawler side-on, the colossal machine partially obscured by the sepia haze. Before them was a group of maybe fifty Rask who must comprise part of its crew, their helmets and goggles shielding them from the sand. They wore the usual Rask garments, lots of thick leather, the buttons and badges adorning their chests denoting their rank in the hierarchy.

One of the crewmen walked out to meet them, the wind tearing at the scarf that was wrapped around her face, her tinted goggles reflecting the sunlight. The brown leather of her jacket was embossed with intricate scenes of battle, depicting raiders disembarking from a sandship, their machetes raised. She wore a Crewmaster's sash, her collection of medals informing Korbaz that she had participated in many successful operations.

"My Matriarch," she said, raising her voice over the howling storm. "The battleship Landslide stands ready to deploy. Fleet Admiral Korbaz, we were told to expect you. It will be an honor to serve under you, my crew stands ready to carry out your orders."

"You will be riding the Landslide through the East Gate and out to the rally point," the Matriarch explained, beginning to walk towards the crawler's extended gantry. Korbaz and the battleship's Crewmaster flanked her, while Vitza trailed behind them. "There, you will transfer to the command crawler Wildfire, and assume your duties."

The Crewmaster broke ranks suddenly, waving a gloved hand at the gaggle of crewmen.

"What do you think you're doing, whelps!? Shield your Matriarch from the storm, or I'll flay your hides!"

They scrambled to form a line to the right of their superiors, using their bodies as windbreaks. The flying sand hammered their backs, but they endured it, Korbaz feeling the gale lessen as she made her way into the shadow of the crawler. The Crewmaster ran a tight ship. Korbaz got the impression that if one of her charges even flinched in front of the Matriarch, they'd be in for a savage correction.

They reached the foot of the gantry, gripping the guard rail as they began to climb the steps, the metal frame creaking under their combined weight. They soon emerged onto the platform that ringed the crawler's chassis, Korbaz peering over the railing to see the crewmen fifteen meters below, now scarcely larger than her claw. The wind was even wilder up here, and she was glad when they entered through one of the low doors that led inside the main body of the vehicle.

The sound of the wind faded as the hatch closed behind them, replaced by the far-off roar of the idling engines, Korbaz shaking the sand out of her hair as she looked down the corridor ahead. It wasn't as cramped as she had been anticipating. The ceiling was maybe seven feet high, so she had to crouch to avoid hitting her head, but it could have been worse. It was made up of metal panels that were secured with bolts, winding pipes, and bundles of electrical cables snaking their way along it. There were dim lights at intervals that did a fair enough job of illuminating everything. The floor was made up of a metal grill, she could feel it vibrating beneath her paws, and the walls were similarly packed with miscellaneous machinery and electronics. All in all, it wasn't too different from being aboard a human spacecraft.

"Please, this way," the Crewmaster said as she guided them through the winding passages. The smell of oil was everywhere, as well as the scent of burnt metal that Korbaz had come to associate with electronics. They came across a few more crew members who were engaged in their usual duties, each one stepping out of their path and bowing low, making themselves as submissive and as non-threatening as possible before the Matriarch. They didn't even dare to look at her, lest that be taken as a challenge to her authority.

They came to a ladder that led to a hatch in the ceiling, and they began to climb, emerging into a more open space. This was a room in one of the prefab buildings that Vitza had spoken of, a human dwelling that was made to specification in a factory, only to be dropped into place wherever it was needed. There was no artistry to it, no soul. It held as much meaning as a tungsten slug or a piece of cutlery. This one at least had been furnished by Rask, making it a little more homely than its cold, metal beginnings. They had laid down a carpet to cover up the exposed material, while the furniture that had once been welded to the floor had been removed, replaced with wooden counterparts more befitting its current occupants. There was a window nearby that had been partially obscured by steel bars, but Korbaz could still see out onto the crawler's windswept deck beyond, the six railgun turrets standing ready.

She could stand up straight in here, the room was rather spacious. From the ground, the prefab had looked to be about nine meters high, at least that wide, and a little over twice that in length. There were two stories to it, it was an entire house designed to be deployed as one unit, with zero construction time required before colonists could start living in it.

They made their way through the structure, finding that there were kitchens, bathrooms, pantries. Anything that the crew might require to live comfortably in the long-term. Not everything had been scaled up for Borealan use, there was nothing to be done about a fridge or a shower cubicle, but it was far more luxurious than the wooden cabins of traditional sandships.

They mounted a flight of stairs, arriving at the second level, then proceeded to a third. What Vitza had referred to as the conning tower was, in fact, another smaller prefab module that had been placed on top of the first. The single room had been filled with all of the equipment and tools required to pilot the craft. There were control systems, camera feeds showing views from all angles, radio and radar equipment. It was all very makeshift, with lots of exposed wiring and electrical tape, but it all seemed functional. She walked over to the forward window, able to see clear across the deck. It was like standing on the balcony of the Patriarch's tower in Elysia's capital.

"This is where I leave you," the Matriarch said, sidling up beside her. "I know that my new fleet will be in capable hands. Keep me abreast of your situation, and remember, each of these vessels represents a significant investment. My treasury is looking about as barren as the scrublands. Do not sacrifice them without good cause."

"Of course, Matriarch," Korbaz replied. "I cannot thank you enough for this honor. Truth be told, as much as I have enjoyed serving you in the capacity of Ambassador, the desert calls to me. I hear her voice still, the promise of glory and riches."

"It's in your blood," the Matriarch said with an approving nod. "I know that living amongst the aliens has been trying, being curtailed by their laws and customs. Having to suppress your nature, being forced to deny what makes you Borealan, enduring their insults and slights. It must have been maddening. But what made you the ideal candidate for that role, and why I have brought you here today, is your uncommon patience. You are a hunter, Admiral, a sandstalker. I know that you will not make rash decisions, you will not charge headlong into certain defeat. It is your nature to weigh every engagement carefully, but when battle is joined, be fierce. Show the interlopers no quarter."

"They shall see no pity from me," she snarled, baring her teeth in a grin. Her heart was beating so quickly, the anticipation rising up inside her belly, electrifying her. How long had it been since she had commanded a sandship, the wind filling its sails as it crested a dune, a juicy trading caravan in her sights? This would be a raid like no other, it would go down in history, there would be tapestries woven about her exploits. She felt like she was waking up after a long sleep, stretching her stiff limbs for the first time in eons.

"Vitza will remain by your side," the Matriarch added, gesturing to the meek male. "He will be your Chief Engineer, for he alone understands the intricacies of these crawlers. Make it known amongst your crew that he carries my authority and that he is not to be questioned on matters of engines and steel."

"It shall be so."

"One more thing," the Matriarch said, leaning a little closer to Korbaz. "I have a...special request to make of you."

"If it is within my power to give, then you shall have it," Korbaz replied without hesitation.

"I want a human," she whispered. "Bring one back for me, a handsome one. Male or female, it matters not. I mean to keep it as a pet."

"A-as you wish, Matriarch," Korbaz stammered.

"I hear they make admirable bed warmers, and I grow weary of my consorts as of late."

The two shared a chuckle, the Matriarch placing an encouraging hand on Korbaz's shoulder as she rose to full height.

"Next time I see you, Admiral, I expect you to be returning through the East Gate victorious."

CHAPTER 3: STEEL RAIN

The garage was a bustle of activity, the sounds of power tools, and the revving of engine checks echoing through the space. Everywhere Ben looked, engineers were rushing back and forth, inspecting the rows of vehicles as the deployment window neared. The tanks were stacked practically bumper to bumper, six long and five deep, leaving just enough room for the scurrying personnel to get between them so that they could be serviced. They were all anchored to yellow trolleys, which were sitting on a rail system that would deliver them to the stern gate for transfer, or to one of the five elevators towards the bow. There were five of the tiered garages on the Okinawa, stacked one on top of the other to maximize the available space, not unlike an automated parking lot that one might find in a city. With such an efficient system, it meant that they could cram a maximum of one hundred and fifty vehicles into the two hundred and fifty-meter assault carrier.

The ceiling scarcely cleared the MBTs by a foot, trailing cables and bunches of electrical wiring winding their way across the metal panels. Some of them hung loose like vines from a jungle canopy, while others were hooked up to the vehicles, charging their batteries or running diagnostics on their onboard computers. He watched as one of the remote turrets on top of the sloping hull of a nearby IFV rotated of its own accord. The dome-shaped camera array examined him with its reflective lenses, its simple machine intelligence making sure that he wasn't a threat.