Chapter 11: No Sale

“Did you learn anything from the human?” the Crewmaster asked, Korbaz pausing to take a sip of her drink before replying. They were lounging in one of the common rooms, sitting atop a pile of silk cushions as their attendants brought them refreshments.

“Only that I hate the little bastard,” she snarled. “He’s smarter than he looks, it’s going to take more prying to get anything useful out of him. I’m hoping that spending a night alone in his cell may have loosened his sharp tongue enough for me to try again. How long until the carriers are reinforced?”

“The convoy will arrive in two days,” he replied, reaching out to select a morsel of meat from a platter that was being presented to him by an attractive female. He popped it into his mouth, savoring the taste for a moment. “As per your orders, I have sent out smaller raiding parties to harass the interlopers in the meantime. Once the convoy arrives, we can organize a second large-scale assault on their formation.”

“I want to know how to crack their tanks by then,” she said, leaning back into the cushions as she swirled her drink in her cup. “We need that edge. The human claims that he is a mere gunner and that he knows nothing of codes or plans. Even if that is true, he still knows the Kodiaks inside and out. If they have a weakness, then he knows how to exploit it.”

“I would not believe him so readily,” the Crewmaster added. “His injuries mark him as an experienced warrior. If he were Rask, he would be of high status.”

“We shall see,” Korbaz muttered, running her claw around the rim of her glass idly.

Cooper was woken by the sound of something rattling against the bars of his cell. He sat up on his cot, forgetting for a moment that he only had one arm and almost tumbling onto the floor. It was the Admiral. She was stowing a large knife in a holster on her thigh, peering at him like a tiger that was on the wrong side of its cage.

“Oh look, it’s the biggest fish in the smallest, scummiest pond,” he muttered as he rubbed his eyes groggily.

“Did you sleep well, Corporal?” she asked with an insincere smile.

“I’ve slept on the hull of a tank,” he replied, “a cot isn’t going to break my resolve.”

“I can always arrange to have it removed if a hard floor would make you more comfortable,” she added with a grin.

“What do you want, Korbaz?”

“I would prefer that you address me by the title of Admiral,” she grumbled, her flat brow furrowing. “But, I suppose that’s too much to expect. You must be hungry,” she added, “you haven’t eaten since yesterday evening.”

“Yeah, you made sure of that,” he replied. There was a clunk as she unlocked his cell, swinging the door open on its squeaking hinges, beckoning to him with a furry hand.

“Come, join me for breakfast.”

He looked her up and down warily, then slid off his cot, making his way over to the door. There was no doubt in his mind that she only wanted to interrogate him again, but an empty stomach was a strong motivator.

Unlike the guards who had come to fetch him the day before, she let him walk beside her without restraining him. As she had told him over dinner the evening prior, there was no way for him to escape. Even if he somehow managed to make it off the crawler and he was able to evade his pursuers, where would he go? They were smack bang in the middle of a desert, he’d die of exposure in hours.

As she led him through the winding, industrial corridors of the crawler’s underbelly, the personnel who were tending to their duties scurried out of her path like cockroaches. They bowed their heads as she passed them by, affording her a kind of reverence that bordered on fear. Cooper had to resist the urge to laugh. It was so strange to be amongst these people, to see them so tightly bound to a social system that he couldn’t give less of a fuck about.

She had him climb the ladder into the prefabs on the deck of the vehicle, and he once again found himself in one of the lavishly furnished compartments. This time, rather than taking him to the dining hall with the large table, she led him over to a pile of cushions in one corner of the room. The walls were draped with more purple curtains that met on the ceiling, making it feel like they were in a giant tent, everything lit by the dim glow of hanging lamps. Korbaz settled into the soft pillows, her leather getup creaking as she shifted her weight.

“Won’t you join me?” she asked, gesturing to her side. Cooper shrugged, then sat down beside her, sinking into the cushions. He had nothing better to do, might as well play along if it meant getting fed. The Admiral called out in her native language, and a female entered the room, carrying a silver platter in her furry hands.

She was quite the specimen, tall and graceful, a waterfall of golden hair reaching her bare shoulders. Unlike the rest of the crew, she wasn’t wearing leather or armor. Instead, she wore a flowing garment that somewhat resembled a sari, made from a semi-transparent fabric in shades of red and orange. It just barely served to protect her modesty, her top leaving her cleavage and her toned midriff exposed, her skin a sun-kissed shade of tan. Her long skirt was high-cut, exposing a smooth, muscled thigh with every step that she took. She leaned down to offer him an assortment of meats, giving him a clear view straight down her top, the motion making a pair of breasts the size of his head wobble.

Korbaz let him stare for a moment, then reached out to pluck a strip of roasted meat from the tray, snapping him out of his stupor.

“See anything that you like?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“The food,” she added, giving him a smirk as she popped a morsel into her mouth.

Cooper tore his eyes away from the beautiful alien, grabbing a cut of what looked like pork with his bare hand, the oil that coated it making it slippery. He began to chew into it, tearing at it like a dog, as the Rask had not provided him with any cutlery.

“I want to tell you a story,” Korbaz began, waving away the attendant. Cooper watched her wide hips roll as she walked away, waiting obediently beside the far wall. “Imagine that you are on Earth, a thousand years ago, if you would. Your planet is made up of warring states, each vying for power and territory. Now, imagine that an alien species arrives on your homeworld, one so advanced that you cannot even comprehend their technology.”

“I see where this is going,” Cooper muttered, taking another bite of his meat.

“Indulge me,” Korbaz said, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice. “These hypothetical aliens will share their marvelous technology with you, but only if you pledge your allegiance to them, and cooperate with whatever edicts they hand down. At first, your government refuses, they do not want to be ruled by a foreign power. But those who do cooperate are given technologies that accelerate their development by centuries in the blink of an eye. Soon, you find that you are surrounded by hostile nations who have equipped their armies with alien weaponry. What choice is left but to submit to the demands of the interlopers?”

Cooper continued to eat, one of Korbaz’s furry ears flicking with annoyance as she watched him.

“So, your government joins the aliens, they begin receiving the weapons that they require to defend their interests. The aliens do not understand or appreciate your way of life, however. They outlaw practices that have put food on your tables and clothes on your backs for centuries, they criminalize the very thing that makes your people who they are. What choice do you have left but to rebel? How can you endure these insults, how can you watch your people sink into destitution?”

“Let me tell you what you ‘should’ have done,” Cooper replied, pausing his chewing. “Sure, an argument could be made that the Coalition upset the balance of power on Borealis, but that’s an infinitely better outcome than a defenseless planet being wiped clean by a marauding Hive fleet. You needed protection that only we could provide. Yeah, you can’t be bloody pirates. Of course we outlawed your so-called ‘way of life’, as any sane government would. If your culture revolves around raiding and stealing, then your culture is a trash fire. You agreed to stop being cunts when you signed up.”

Korbaz opened her mouth to offer a scathing rebuttal, but he cut her off.

“You had the option to move on. You could have taken the development grants that the Coalition offers and used them to start farms, to build factories, you could have used relief money to feed your population during the transition. But you didn’t do that, did you? Instead, you decided you were going to start a war against an alliance that has planet-destroying battleships.”

He began to wave his hand, Korbaz raising an eyebrow in confusion.

“What ... what are you doing?”

“I’m clapping sarcastically, but you won’t give me my fucking arm back, so you’ll just have to use your imagination.”

She bared her teeth, glaring at him with her yellow eyes.

“You would have a nation of noble warriors become farmers?” she sneered. “Humans are honorless. Those who have never known dignity cannot fathom the measures that we must sometimes take to protect it.”

“You’re not going to get me to defect by telling me a sob story about how the big bad aliens are trying to stop you from raiding trading caravans,” he muttered, finishing off his meat. “That’s like someone claiming that the police are trying to destroy his livelihood because they won’t let him mug joggers in the park.”

“This is our way,” she snapped. “The weak are ruled by the strong, and those who cannot protect their property do not deserve to keep it.”

“If the strong rule the weak, then shouldn’t you be happy to be ruled over by the Coalition?” he asked. She began to speak, then paused, thinking for a moment.

“Your people are not truly strong,” she shot back. “Anyone can sit on a spaceship and drop bombs on the defenseless people below. Anyone can kill their adversary from a league away with a railgun. The Rask are mighty, both in our physicality, and our strength of will. The hardships that we endure in the desert shape us into warriors, they instill in us an unshakable resolve, while your kind cannot even handle the planet’s gravity. Humans are born clawless, a pitiful state of being reserved for slaves, while we inflict injuries upon one another in mere play that would fatally wound you. Our packs are led by the strongest among their number, while your people are ruled over by simpering bureaucrats and politicians. Put a Rask and a human in a room, and the Rask will always come out on top.”

“And if I tied your arms behind your back and muzzled you, you couldn’t win either, so what’s your point? Listen,” he added, stopping her before she went on another rant. “It’s like you said. Back in the old days, human nations fought each other too. Sometimes we still have disagreements. But we learned that what’s out there,” he said, pointing to the ceiling for emphasis, “doesn’t give a fuck about borders. They don’t care if we call ourselves Australians, Russians, or Martians. They’re going to kill us simply because we’re in their way. When the Bugs come knocking, you’re going to want the Coalition at your back. None of this shit matters, it’s a waste of everyone’s time.”

Korbaz had no answer for him, stewing as she leaned back into the pile of cushions. After a moment, she called the attendant back over, the woman leaning down to offer the Admiral another piece of meat. Cooper helped himself to another cut, watching Korbaz as she sat there, even her chewing coming across angry.

“Enough of this game,” she finally grumbled, seeming to come to some kind of decision. “If I cannot sway you with words, I will find another way.”

“This should be good,” Cooper chuckled.

“My interest in you is not merely because of the information that you carry,” she said. He watched, his eyes widening as she extended her tongue to lick the juices from her furry fingers. A length of glistening, pink flesh slid past her lips, coiling around one of her digits like a snake. It must have been near a foot long, its upper surface coated in barbs that she was using to clean her fur, while the underside was as smooth as that of a human. It returned to her mouth, Cooper trying not to look too flustered by what he had just seen.

“I have a theory,” she continued, “that humans actually do know how to submit. That instinct lies dormant in you somewhere, and I believe that it can be awakened. The structure of a pack is not so different from that of your military. You defer to those of higher rank, you obey the orders of your superiors without question. Yet, somehow, you fail to apply that logic to your social lives.”

“What are you getting at?” he asked warily.