Empire of Decay: Jailers

Certain pieces of jargon and units of measurements have been translated into proper human and Earth-based terms, for the benefit of this file’s superior human readerbase.

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After winding through several more identical hallways and corridors, the Captain finally led her to what Mok presumed would be her quarters. Like any military vessel, there was very little variation in appearance of the myriad hallways and rooms on this vessel, though she was still surprised by how staid and orderly this human vessel was. Where was the bordello? Where were there lurid sex labs where they experimented on their alien slaves? She didn’t know whether to be impressed or disappointed.

An archaic digital keypad was mounted outside the door, the Captain inputting a code while explaining the order of things to her captive.

“Only you, myself, and your two handlers have access to the code for this room. You can imagine that a free, unmodified Dranza is not a welcome sight aboard this vessel, but I offered you safe conduct and will do my best to ensure your safety from my crew.” Captain Najaderesh said in a blaise tone that suggested she didn’t really care if she failed to protect Mok.

“And my handlers are…?” Mok asked, not caring all too much about the captain’s relaxed attitude. Honestly, with how things turned out, she welcomed being attacked by a hormonal, feral human. Might give her a chance to take one or two of the demons down with her own claws before she died.

With a pneumatic hiss, the door to her quarters slid open. “Right here.” The Captain said, as the opening door revealed two individuals already in the room.

Two human women greeted her. Or, rather, they greeted their commanding officer, snapping to attention and saluting Captain Najaderesh, hardly sparing Mok a glance. The Captain gave them an “at ease” and the two relaxed, though still visibly ready to jump into action if things went wrong. Immediately, Mok was perplexed once more by the mismatched heights of these soldiers, one being around six-feet and the other scraping towards seven (the Captain stood roughly as a median between the two). Both had dark complexions, different from the Captain’s - the shorter of the two had lightly tanned skin while the taller, more muscular soldier had an almost reddish tinge to it. The taller, redskin woman had her hair buzzed into a short, sheer cut (Mok gathered this was a common military cut), while her shorter counterpart most bizarrely had bright pink hair and strange tribal markings etched with ink on the visible skin of her neck and arms.

But now that decorum had been observed, then did the two human soldiers spare Mok a glance. Steely, cold, venomous. Mok felt the tension in the room ratchet up. She imagined the only time these two had been in the room with a free non-human was during a bloody fight. Mok herself felt old instincts stir and hackles rise, four warriors all held in a small enclosure together, enemy combatants, mortal foes.

The short, pink-haired woman gave Mok a vicious smirk with her fatty face-pustules. The taller one sternly glared back, as if she were carved from red stone. Mok returned such an expression, trying to keep a leash on her body’s fighting instincts.

“These are your handlers and liaisons, Private First Class Shelly Ramirez,” the Captain introduced, cutting through the tension in the room, motioning to the pink-haired human first, “and Sergeant Kota Rainsong.” She guided her hand to the tall woman. “They will be in charge of your security and wellbeing during your stay here on the Noah Agamatta and will provide anything you need. Ladies, this is Mok-”

“Mok. Just Mok.” She cut the Captain off, her voice unusually dry and raspy. She clenched her jaw and urged her glands to produce saliva, less her nerves betray her. “You… you humans won’t understand the cultural importance of my full name.” She then added in a low tone to cover herself.

In truth, there was no longer a point to refer to herself as ‘Mok-1-21’. The Empire was gone. The cloning vats were gone. Her clutchmates were most likely gone, too. And, if her remaining people were going to use the failures of her clutch as a cudgel to bully her, then it was time to cast that aside. Whatever future she would forge, she would do so as her own individual, not the twenty-first Dranza of the first (and only) Mok pod.

“Very well, Just ‘Mok’, then.” The Captain said, casually, because she didn’t really care about the great decision Mok just made to cast aside the remains of her identity. How and why could a human care? “Regardless, Private Ramirez and Sergeant Rainsong will help you get situated. I am needed elsewhere. Ladies.”

Then, with a curt nod, the Captain slipped away and marched down the hallway with business-like alacrity, leaving Mok alone with her captors.

The three stared at each other in silence for a good, long while, Mok not even bothering to step over the threshold into her room. With their CO gone, the two adopted a less formal stance, Ramirez looking at Mok with amused glances, as if the Dranza prisoner was a big joke to her. Rainsong tapped her foot impatiently, eyes narrowed as she kept them trained on Mok.

Then, after a lightning bolt of revelation came to her mind, Mok blurted out. “Wait - you two were the soldiers I saw on patrol! I thought you two were men.” The two chuckled at Mok’s outburst, causing the Dranza to feel blazing shame. Her hackles raised once more, Mok even going so far as to show her fangs to the two.

“I should warn you,” Rainsong said in a surprisingly soft voice for such a big, burly humanoid, “while you may have been offered safe conduct, you are still an enemy combatant. The Captain has given us leeway to meet any aggression - even assumed aggression - in kind.” She cocked her head sideways, baring her own pearly white teeth at Mok. “And from where I stand, you look like an animal, cornered and threatened, and we don't appreciate such an attitude from our animals.”

Mok wanted to lash out, but caught herself. They were baiting her. Taunting her so she would make the first move so they could have just cause to do whatever they liked to her. She stowed her fangs and held her arms to her side, fingers curling into her palms to hide her claws. She did her best not to look like a chastened beast, but seemingly failed, judging by the stinging snickering of Private Ramirez.

“And just so you know, there are no men on this ship.” Rainsong explained. “We know how badly you sca - Dranza react to the sight of males, so missions like this are staffed solely by women.

“Now get inside!” She then ordered and pointed to the space beyond the threshold. “You look like an idiot standing out there.”

Mok did as prompted, but not with any swiftness to it. The door shut behind her and both humans shuffled around the perimeter, giving Mok a wide berth, and placing themselves near the door.

“There’s your bed. Bathroom is through there. There’s your clothes and a new data-pad. We’ll collect your rags to burn them later. Three meals a day. We deliver them. You’re not allowed outside without accompaniment. If you need anything, the console on the wall can contact us.” Sergeant Rainsong explained in a rapid-fire clip, cold and brusquely. Mok barely had time to absorb the information before the door snapped open and both human women were outside.

Before the doors shut again and sealed her in, Kota Rainsong took another long, hard look at Mok. Those large, unsightly human eyes were full of emotion, because mammals were soft, emotional defects of nature. Full of hatred, disgust, and pity.

Pity! Pity! The hatred and disgust Mok understood, but pity? How dare this shaved monkey pity her! She was a daughter of the great Dranza Empire and that towering dolt was complicit in the **** and destruction of the galaxy. Mok would soon be a free woman with her life ahead of her while these soldiers would continue aiding and abetting the vile works of humanity, spreading their scourge across the stars. Like the sun parting the clouds, Mok’s despair and unease were replaced with fiery anger, roiling in her belly. She was about to hunch forward and hiss, lash out again, spit acid and invectives at this judgmental brute…

But then the door closed, sealing shut. And Mok became nothing more than a prisoner.

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“Mighty fine mess you’ve gotten us into here, Kota.” Ramirez groused, as the two soldiers left their charge behind in her pen. “Now we have to play babysitter to that stupid, ugly Scaly bitch!”

“Is it any worse than combing the wasteland for them?” Rainsong countered, marching at double time to put as much space between her and that Dranza as possible. To try and forget those black, pitiless eyes staring at her, bottomless and heartless like a demon conjured from hell. “Besides, you know I don’t like this anymore than you do. Being that close to an untamed, unwashed, unmodified Dranza makes my skin crawl…”

“Then why did you go to the Captain with this stupid scheme!” Ramirez exclaimed, throwing her hands up for emphasis. “You said you tagged that bitch! We could have just followed her to her hidey-hole, NOXET her and her whole crew, fuck them silly, and be on our way.”

“To the next wasteland to try and find more Dranza hiding like slugs from the sun.” It has been a huge coup, after spotting the Dranza known as Mok and her partner, subtly tagging the alien freak. She was giddy at the possibility of a full-on raid when things went awry but also opened up new, better possibilities. What were the odds that the Dranza she had tagged was the one begging for parley? Why settle for one Dranza, one cell, when they could potentially topple this entire resistance in one go?

“Worse case scenario, we convert that bitch and her cell, which is what we would have gotten in the first place.” Kota explained to her partner like she would a small child, which Shelly Ramirez was like in many ways. “But she doesn’t know that I tagged her or that we know where her cell is already. If we can get her to talk, get her to reveal more about this operation, and we end up netting dozens of new Dranza xenoslaves in one fell swoop - shit, we have our ticket out of the service! Might even get a commendation! And after years of trying to find runaway Scalies under rocks, I’m ready to discharge and head home…”

Ramirez nodded along, in understanding and in sympathy, but she wore a bitter smile when she said, “Yeah, I hear ya… And now all we have to do is handle that aggro lizard skank until this longshot of yours pays off…”

Kota’s expression turned just as bitter.

“Yeah… yeah…”