Chapter 24: Long Live the Matriarch

“Looks like your guys had a bad time,” Cooper muttered, peering out of the slatted windows of the conning tower as the convoy of crawlers trundled across the battlefield. The East Gate looked like the surface of fucking Mars. There were blasted craters everywhere, the storm whipping up clouds of dust, the haze that choked the sky diffusing the sunlight to give everything a sepia tone.

Here and there, he could make out the ruins of a bunker or the wreck of a disabled vehicle, some of them still belching plumes of dark smoke into the air as they burned. There were tank traps, and spools of barbed wire scattered all over the place. It must have been quite a battle, he was almost sorry to have missed it.

“They are not ‘my guys’,” Korbaz grumbled. She was hunched over the holographic table behind him, poring over the map. “I would never have attempted such a foolhardy defense.”

“I know, I know,” he replied. “So, what’s next? Where are we going, exactly?”

She waved him over to the table, pointing at the three-dimensional satellite image, her claw passing through the translucent landscape.

“Do you see this city that forms a crescent around the Northern shore of the lake? That is our capital city, the seat of the Matriarchy. Her palace sits at its heart. By now, word of my challenge will have spread. We should be able to drive right up to the city limits, then make our way through the streets until we reach the palace walls.”

“Should?” Cooper asked skeptically. “You realize that there are a hundred places where someone could lean out of a window and shoot you dead, right?”

“Window?” she asked, the two exchanging confused glances. “As I told you before, for the Matriarch to slay me before our bout would be to admit her inferiority, it would make her look afraid. The messages that I have broadcast to the territory have reached the people, they now know of my intent, and many high-ranking Rask have contacted me in secret to express their support.”

“If you say so,” he replied with a shrug. “I’d still rather you drove down there in an IFV, but I won’t be the one getting blown up if they decide to JFK you.”

“J ... F ... what?” she wondered. “I swear, you make less sense every time I talk with you. Anyway, I want you with me.”

“Me?” he asked, pointing at himself with a polymer finger. “What the flying fuck do you need me for? You’ve learned as much as you can from the instructors, enough to give you an edge over that bitch. There’s nothing more I can do to help you, and you told Sarif that you didn’t want any humans marching with you, right? You said it would be a bad look.”

“I want you at my side,” she replied adamantly, “that is my wish.”

“What am I, your emotional support monkey?” he grumbled. “You’d better fucking win because I’m not doing the whole ‘Rask prisoner’ thing again. Been there, done that, got the bloody t-shirt.”

“I believe that Sarif will raze the palace to the ground if I lose,” she replied, “so there is little danger of the Matriarch taking you captive.”

“Fantastic,” he grumbled. “Do I at least get a gun?”

“Of course. A Rask would never attend a meeting empty-handed. Just don’t point it at anyone.”

The crawlers cleared the battlefield, passing a row of Kodiaks that were forming a defensive line, Cooper lamenting that he couldn’t see very far in the storm. He’d scarcely been able to catch a glimpse of the jungle, and he wouldn’t see much of the small villages that were supposedly scattered around the territory’s interior.

Looking at the map, he hadn’t really grasped the scale of the place. When one thought of a lake, they usually imagined a medium-sized body of water, but that did not describe the Rask lake. Despite its sorry state when compared to those of other territories, it still rivaled the size of Lake Superior, and the territory had the land area of a small country. It would be some hours yet before they reached their destination.

After a while, he noticed structures outside the left window, Cooper peering between the armored slats as he looked down at them. Wreathed in the storm was a small cluster of sandstone buildings with domed roofs, their walls packed with mortar of the same beige color, giving them an almost sculpted appearance. There were support beams hewn from logs visible on the exterior, the wood pale and somewhat twisted, almost like birch trees that had contorted into odd shapes. He couldn’t make out any windows, which might explain why Korbaz had been confused when he had mentioned them earlier. The only way in and out was through wooden doors, built from planks of the same pale wood.

“One of the smaller villages,” Korbaz explained, walking over to stand beside him. Some of the inhabitants heard the rumbling of the crawlers, emerging from their squat dwellings, the wind tearing at their colorful shawls as they gazed up at the passing vehicles in awe.

“What do they ... do?” he asked.

“Out this far from the capital, they will mostly hunt and forage in the nearby jungle. Those who live nearer the lake make their meager living fishing its waters. The soil here is poor, and farming is difficult. Our territory does not overflow with natural resources as Elysia or Araxie do. Many are now employed in the mining operations that allowed the Matriarch to purchase equipment such as this vehicle, but with the vaults emptied, I know not where their salary will come from.”

“That’s why you’ve always been raiders?” Cooper asked. “What you couldn’t get here, you took from others?”

“The Elysians and other neighboring territories have historically had a habit of transporting their wealth and resources in poorly-defended caravans,” she chuckled, staring into the distance as she seemed to reminisce. “The Dune Sea is the only way for them to reach one another, that is why we ... why the Matriarch fought to control it. Everything that passes through the Dune Sea is Rask property, ripe for the picking, and those who cannot defend their custom do not deserve to possess it. At least ... that was the mantra of our forebears. As romantic as the idea of returning to the old ways might be, I see now that times have changed, and we must change with them if we are to endure.”

They left the small village in the dust, the little buildings vanishing into the wall of swirling sand.

“This is it,” Korbaz announced, “the capital city...”

Cooper looked out past the prefabs that crowded the crawler’s deck, watching more buildings come into view in the distance. Night had fallen, reducing the visibility even further, but he could make out the glow of what might be streetlamps in the distance. As they neared, he was able to see the silhouettes of more of the squat, sandstone houses. They were far more numerous, densely packed together, the narrow streets paved with cobbled stone. He was surprised to see that few, if any, were more than two storeys tall. Perhaps that was a limitation of the high gravity. The light was coming from what looked like oil lamps that hung from braces near the doors of the houses, serving to illuminate the city in the absence of electricity. The shore of the lake must be a ways to their left, but he couldn’t make it out with the storm still raging.

“Full stop!” Korbaz commanded, the crawler rumbling to a halt. “Contact Crewmaster Torzi and have her send a contingent of vehicles to take us to the palace. I will require an armed escort.”

She wheeled around, Cooper hurrying after her. They stopped at the armory on their way down to the gantry, Korbaz loading all of her slings and belts with weapons. She was like a walking arsenal, the weight of the massive revolvers and knives tugging her belt down even lower around her hips.

“You weren’t kidding when you said you were gonna arm up,” Cooper whistled, watching her fill a bandoleer with bulky bullets. “You sure you’re not expecting to have to use any of those?”

“This is our custom,” she replied, checking the cylinder on one of the oversized revolvers before sliding it into a holster on her belt. “If all in attendance are heavily armed, then initiating violence becomes a very risky proposition. I will have armed guards with me, too.”

“Guess that’s more effective than trying to prevent people from concealing weapons,” Cooper muttered, watching her slide a serrated blade into a sheath on her thigh. She made her way over to a nearby wall, where there was a large rack of assorted guns of all shapes and sizes, pointing to them one by one like someone picking out shirts in a department store. She finally selected one, pulling it off the rack and tossing it to him. Cooper snatched it out of the air, seeing that it was an XMH, a sidearm of an appropriate scale for a human. He turned it over in his hand, checking that everything was in order, the copper coils on the barrel glinting under the naked bulb on the ceiling.

“I promised you a weapon,” Korbaz said, throwing him a magazine made from translucent polymer. He slotted it into the magazine well in the grip, switching on the battery and checking the charge level.

“Can’t I get something bigger?’ he asked, nodding to the stacks of long rifles.

“We have few weapons designed for a human wielder,” she explained. She paused on her way past him, reaching down to ruffle his hair, Cooper fighting her off. “A small gun for a small man.”

“Small man?” he grumbled, stowing the weapon in a holster on his pressure suit as he hurried after her. “I’ll show you small man ... fuckin’ dickhead.”

He followed her back out into the corridor, finding that a dozen guards were waiting for them. Even after spending several days as a guest on the crawler, and being free to go where he pleased, the sight of them still made him bristle. They were also armed, their rifles slung across their backs, standing to attention as they awaited their Admiral. They moved out of her way as Korbaz marched past them, falling into line behind Cooper as he trailed after her. Oh yeah, she’d given him a temporary rank in the hierarchy as part of their weird parallel social systems thing. He was technically higher status than these guys now.

They stepped out into the cold night air, Cooper starting to miss his leather jacket as the frigid wind cut through his suit like a freezing knife. He lay a hand on the guard rail, then withdrew it, the metal as cold as ice. As they made their way along the creaking platform that ringed the hull, he could make out the next crawler in the convoy less than a hundred meters to their rear, the behemoth rising into the air like a building on tracks. It was the battleship, he could see the frigate-class naval guns, and the quad-barreled missile launcher that was bolted to the front of the deck. Behind them was the conning tower, a faint, yellow glow emanating from its windows. The vehicles must have been in close formation, perhaps to avoid mines or IEDs.

They descended the gantry, finding a small convoy of technicals waiting for them, their headlights piercing the gloom as their engines idled. Korbaz led him to the same converted SUV that they had ridden in on their journey to the Yagda, some of the guards piling in after them, everyone strapping into their seats.

The vehicles pulled away from the crawler, the bouncing suspension jostling Cooper as they raced across the barren scrubland. It was a short drive to the city limits, and he soon felt the technical jolt to a stop, the sound of muffled voices coming from outside barely audible over the engine. He glanced at Korbaz, and she returned a frown, beginning to unbuckle her harness. Cooper did the same, peeking his head out of the door as she descended, straightening her purple sash.

Outside was a gaggle of Rask, silhouetted by the glow of the oil lamps from the streets beyond, and lit by the headlamps. They were soldiers by the look of them, three or four packs strong. They had stopped the lead vehicle and were arguing with its driver, their rifles in hand. Cooper felt a knot in his stomach as he watched Korbaz march over to them, but he had to resist the impulse to apply human logic to this situation. He was in alien territory, and the Rask dealt with conflict very differently from humans.

Korbaz barked something at them in their native language, their confidence evaporating. The one who had been standing beside the driver’s window took a few faltering steps back, the others glancing at one another for reassurance, their furry hands tightening around the barrels of their rifles.

She followed up with some angry gestures, addressing her complaints to one of the aliens specifically, likely the highest-ranked among them. He seemed to cower a little lower with every word, as though a physical weight was being put on his shoulders, his ears flat against his mop of sandy hair. He opened his mouth to offer some kind of rebuttal, his comrades shuffling a few feet further away from him as though afraid of being caught in the crossfire. Korbaz, on the other hand, stepped closer. She waited until her pink nose was an inch from his, then leaned in to whisper something to him. He swallowed the lump in his throat, then stepped aside, waving his men back so that the procession could pass.

Cooper gave Korbaz a questioning look as she returned to the truck, and she answered him with a smirk.

“The captain of the night watch has decided to let us enter the city,” she explained.

“Entirely of his own volition, I’m sure,” Cooper replied as he sat back down in his bucket seat.

“They are right to be afraid. Word has spread of the defeat at the East Gate, and they are expecting the invasion to continue into the city. I merely ... reassured them that my intentions are noble ones.”

“They were expecting an invasion, and they only brought out like twenty guys?” Cooper asked incredulously as he buckled his harness.

“The majority of the Matriarch’s forces will have been deployed at the gate. She even sent most of the Palace Guard to protect it. There will be little more than some reserve troops stationed in the city now. In the event of an invasion, the common people would be expected to take up arms and join them.”

“Then let’s make sure that’s not necessary,” he said, Korbaz giving him a solemn nod.

The convoy of technicals began to make its way into the city, Cooper feeling the cobblestones make his seat vibrate. He complained that he wanted to see outside, so Korbaz opened one of the armored slots, giving him a view like he was peering through a letterbox. More sandstone and mortar buildings whipped past them, these ones a little larger and more lavish than those that he had seen in the village, though just as squat. Each one had a domed roof, many of which were colored differently. There were dull reds, oranges, greens, blues. It was impossible to say whether they were merely painted or if they were constructed from different kinds of stone.

The wooden supports were straighter, made from trees that were less twisted and warped. Their trunks were carved with intricate reliefs and flowing patterns that were hard to make out in any great detail at the speed they were traveling. There were still no windows in sight, but there were open spaces in the mortar in places, exposing blocks of stone that were adorned with carvings. They were masterful, the rock hewn into depictions of snarling Rask faces that reminded him of gargoyles, or alien animals that he couldn’t identify. Some showed scenes of hunting or dueling warriors, while others depicted sandships sailing across the dunes.

The Rask clearly took great pride in their dwellings, as simple as they were. How he wished that they could stop to take a better look, maybe even take a peek inside one of them. Perhaps when this was all resolved.

The streets were narrow, clearly not designed for vehicles, as two technicals would scarcely have been able to pass one another. The cobblestones brought to mind images of London from the nineteenth century, but the surrounding buildings were more Arabic in their appearance, a layer of fine sand blanketing everything in sight. The headlights bathed the road ahead as the technicals wound their way along, the path behind them lit only by the wavering flames of the oil lamps that seemed to hang above every doorway.

There were a few people here and there, all of them wrapped up in colorful shawls and cloaks to ward off the ever-present sandstorm, pausing to watch the convoy pass. Most of them would be holed up in their homes, both because night had fallen, and because there was a Coalition army on their doorstep.

The convoy passed through an area that looked like a town square, a circular, paved plaza that was ringed by market stalls. They were all empty now, the wooden tables bare, the colorful awnings that would provide shelter from the harsh sun flapping in the wind. Was this where the villagers came to trade their wares? What would this place look like in the absence of storms and war? He imagined a sea of Rask wearing colorful clothes, maybe some leather-clad guards stalking through the crowd to keep the peace. Merchants and traders would be flogging their wares, hunters and fishermen selling their catches, the scents of cooking filling the market as food vendors prepared their dishes. Right now, it was a ghost town.

“We shall arrive soon,” Korbaz said. “Stay close, and if you value your life, do as I tell you.”

For once, Cooper felt no desire to argue with her. They were about to walk into the lion’s den.

Through the haze, and over the rooftops, a magnificent structure came into view. It was a cluster of large domes, almost like several Taj Mahals had been blended into one, towering over the far smaller buildings that surrounded it. Each bulbous dome was tipped with a needle-like spire that jutted high into the air, every one of them capped with white marble, which probably made them gleam like beacons in direct sunlight. There was a huge, purple flag embroidered with golden reliefs attached to each one, depicting more tapestry-like scenes of war and hunting. They fluttered as they were blown by the storm, their edges tattered and worn by the elements.

As they drew closer, the wall of the compound rose up above the cityscape, blocking whatever lay inside from view. Each of the four corners sported another tall spire, or at least, as tall as the Rask could build in this crushing gravity. All things considered, he had seen edifices far larger and more impressive than this one, but something about the relatively small size of the surrounding dwellings made it seem to tower over everything in a way that he found rather ominous.

The vehicles came to a stop, the roar of the engines winding down. Korbaz stepped out, and he followed after her, emerging into the cold night air.

“Heed my words,” she said, peering down at him as the gale tore at her hair. “The Matriarch is not like other Rask. She is not even like me. When one becomes accustomed to absolute obedience, to getting everything that they want without question, it can make them ... willful.”

“Understatement of the century,” he muttered.

“You have come to expect compassion and kindness from me,” she continued, “but to expect the same from the Matriarch would be the height of foolishness. Do not let your guard down in her presence, not even for a second.”

“Oh, yeah,” he scoffed. “When I think of you, kindness and compassion are the first words that come to mind. You’re an absolute ray of fucking sunshine.”

“For once in your life, hold your tongue, will you?”

They left the vehicles, flanked by two processions of armed guards, and made their way to an arched opening in the wall. It was guarded by two Rask, these ones dressed a little differently from the others that he had seen. They were wearing full suits of Shock Trooper armor like a Coalition auxiliary, and the jackets that they wore over the top of it were decorated with fine, purple embroidery. Each of them had a cape draped over their right shoulder that was woven with gold trim, too small to serve anything other than decorative purposes. Their six-foot, bayoneted rifles were crossed over the doorway, blocking Korbaz’s path.

“Let me pass,” she demanded, coming to a stop before them. “The challenge that I have put to the Matriarch is legitimate, let her not cower behind walls and bodyguards.”

One of them put a finger to his helmet about where the ear would be on a human, talking to someone over the radio. Korbaz waited impatiently with her hands on her hips, and after a few moments, the guards uncrossed their rifles. They stepped aside, allowing the Admiral and her entourage to enter the compound.

The ground inside the courtyard was paved with massive slabs of red marble, veins of dull yellows and oranges winding their way through the stone like snaking streams. It was almost seamless, but the breaks between the heavy tiles were visible where the trailing veins cut off abruptly. Towards the center was something quite out of place, the marble giving way to sand and water. The trunks of alien trees sprouted from the earth, their leafy fronds blowing in the wind, lush greenery overflowing from the bounds of an artificial oasis. There were verdant shrubs that bloomed with colorful flowers, cactus-like plants, and leafy ferns that spilled onto the red marble. He could imagine the clear water shimmering beneath the sun, but it was covered in a layer of floating sand now, carried in by the storm.

Ahead of them was the entrance to the palace proper, an ornate archway built from huge blocks of ochre-colored marble, streaks of white ore trailing their way across the stone. It didn’t seem to be held together by cement, it was self-supporting, the arch tapering into thick pillars that held up the structure.

As they made their way towards it, he glanced around the compound. There were more doors that led inside the wall, each one guarded by more purple-clad warriors. A raised platform lined the interior of the wall, allowing the guards who were on patrol to see over it, but all of their helmeted heads were turned in his direction. One false move, and they would be cut down by two dozen XMRs. It seemed like too few guards for such a large area, maybe they had all been sent to the gate.

“I hope you’re right about this,” Cooper muttered.

“Do you trust me?” Korbaz asked, the impressive archway looming above them.

“More than you deserve.”

Brenner walked along the lakebed, his skids kicking up clouds of dark silt, the SWAR team pushing their way through a forest of what resembled kelp. The tall stalks had bulbous bladders to keep them afloat, waving eerily in the current. It was as dark as a grave this far below the surface, the flashlights mounted on their helmets illuminating their way, the beams struggling to cut more than a few feet through the inky blackness. Walking underwater was a strange sensation somewhat akin to the weightlessness of a small moon, yet the lake’s weight bore down on them, slowing their march to a sluggish pace.

“Argh, fuck!” Stevens exclaimed over the local channel, Brenner whipping his head around to look back at him. He was waving a prosthetic arm at a large, dark shape that was sliding out of view into the kelp.

“What’s wrong?” Brenner asked.

“Some kinda ... fuckin’ fish or somethin’,” he grumbled in reply, his Southern accent pouring into Brenner’s earpiece. “There are some ugly bastards down here with us, LT.”

“That fish is probably more scared of you than you are of it,” Petrova grumbled as she trudged through the mud beside him. “Are we close yet? I can feel the cold silt between my toes, and I do not care for it. Pizdets...”

“Should have gone for skids,” Stevens replied.

“Skids are ugly,” she shot back, pushing aside one of the green stalks. “Some of us still care about our appearance, you know.”

“Song, how far?” Brenner asked.

“We should be fifty meters from the entrance,” Song replied, “the outlet is just up ahead.”

“Should be, or ‘are’?” Hoff asked, immediately identifiable by the synthetic timbre of his prosthetic larynx.

“I don’t exactly have real-time imaging,” Song complained, “I’m basing this on potentially outdated intelligence. This city is hundreds of years old, and for all we know, the sewer system could be entirely abandoned.”

“It’s our only option,” Brenner added. “We can’t make it through the city without being seen, it’s too risky. If we can make our way through the sewers and get beneath the palace, then we can breach from below and avoid the guards at the wall altogether.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t a good plan, LT,” Hoff replied. “I’m just not looking forward to cleaning my servos when we clock out...”

As the incline grew steeper, the lake’s surface came into view, Brenner ordering his team to halt. He continued up the bank and into the shallows, inching his helmet above the water, sheets of it pouring down his visor. After switching to night vision mode and checking that there was nobody nearby, he rose a little higher to get a look around. He was on the bank of the lake, its black waters extending out of view behind him, the dim lights of the Rask capital bleeding through the haze ahead. He laid eyes on the outlet, a dark tunnel made from grey brick that extruded from the mud and rock, a lazy stream of dark water pouring from its mouth. It was square-shaped, perhaps eight feet wide, more than large enough for a dozen humans to crawl inside. There was no metal grate covering the opening, all the better.

He ordered his team forward, and they began to climb inside one by one, their footsteps echoing down the long tunnel. The water inside wasn’t very deep, the Rask territory was an arid place, after all. Brenner elected to keep his helmet on, as he had no desire to find out what wading through six inches of alien waste smelled like.

“This is horseshit,” Stevens muttered, Hoff taking his arm and hauling him up into the pipe.

“Correction, this is Rask shit,” Petrova added. “I think I will just toss these legs out of an airlock when we are done. Zhizn’ ebet meya...”

“This way,” Song said, aiming his flashlight down the passage. “It’s a bit of a walk, and I can’t say how accurate the map is.”

“Hoff, are the breaching charges still dry?” Brenner asked.

The burly operative opened one of the pouches on his waterlogged rig, withdrawing a sealed ziplock bag. He held it in the beam of his flashlight, then nodded his head.

“Yeah, they’re good.”

“Then we press on,” Brenner said, watching as more of the team piled into the sewer. “Once we get beneath the palace, we’ll wait for the signal from the Lieutenant Colonel.”

The interior of the Matriarch’s palace was a maze of lavish corridors, all of them decorated with colorful marble and flowing, velvet drapes. The sandstone walls were lined with pillars that helped to hold up the arched ceilings, each one of them carved by a master artisan, flowing reliefs and patterns spiraling up their length. There were tapestries everywhere, each one depicting a different scene in a stilted, archaic style with an odd perspective that reminded him of a medieval castle. The walls were ten feet apart, and the ceiling was maybe twenty feet above him, ornate chandeliers hanging from the wooden crossbeams that crisscrossed far above him. Everything was so sturdily built, he couldn’t turn his head without seeing some kind of pillar or brace that helped to keep the edifice together. The floor was paved with smooth, black stone, reflecting the glow of the oil lamps like a mirror to give the impression that he was walking across black ice. The Rask always complained about their lack of natural resources, but one thing that they had in abundance was mineral wealth.

The procession stopped at a pair of giant doors that blocked the hallway. They were hewn from something akin to oak or mahogany, their varnished surfaces engraved with sprawling scenes of warfare, the battling figures skewering one another with spears and swords. It was magnificent, and a little foreboding. Korbaz’s guards must have felt the same way because they were shifting their weight nervously, glancing to one another for reassurance. Right now, they were probably praying that they had backed the right horse in this race.

“This is the Matriarch’s audience chamber,” Korbaz explained. “Once we step through these doors, there will be no turning back.”

Cooper had learned to recognize when she was suppressing her emotions, and he had to fight the urge to take her hand and squeeze it. He had joked about being her emotional support monkey, but he might have landed closer to the mark than he had realized. That was why she had wanted him by her side, for reassurance, for support. He had seen flashes of fear whenever she spoke of her interactions with the Matriarch, and now she was about to face her.

“Hey,” he whispered, nudging her thigh with his elbow. “You’ve got this, this is what we’ve been preparing for. You’re gonna go in there, and you’re gonna lay some fucking Kung Fu moves on that cunt, knock her out.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath, then pushed the heavy doors open. They creaked on their old hinges as they swung ajar, Korbaz marching through with renewed confidence, Cooper and her entourage following behind her.