Empire of Decay: Isolation

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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The base of the resistance cell was the hollowed out interior of a massive pillar of rock. The pillar jutted out from the badlands like a spear reaching for the heavens, dominating the skyline for miles around, it’s top a flat plateau and the full structure almost perfectly cylindrical. It was originally used as a military installation, making it a fitting fortress for the Dranza resistance.

But, like all things the Dranza held onto for dear life, there were clear signs of decay. Tunnels, passageways, and rooms had entirely collapsed. To that end, the “brig” of the resistance cell’s base was the very top of the spire and, in all fairness, it made for an effective prison cell. Constant exposure to the harsh elements of Dallis-5 with only one entry point back into the structure (a locked steel-carbonadium hatch). Well, one proper entry point. One could always drop down the sheer cliff face of the pillar, but there was little chance of surviving the plunge.

The only thing going in Mok-1-21’s favour at the moment was the fact that the dust storm settled and rumbled low to the ground. High upon her vantage point, with the cloudless night sky above her, it was almost beautiful… if she wasn’t at risk of freezing to ****. Her suit and it’s junked heater unit did little to stave off the frigid nights of Dallis-5. She very well could have cranked the heater up, but she was worried that it would blow it’s motor and leave her almost entirely at the mercy of the chilly night air.

So, Mok-1-21 suffered and shivered and shuddered, from the cold and the pain, curled up into a ball in a futile attempt to retain as much warmth as possible. Her ribs and back and head ached and throbbed after Jit-10-8’s savage beating and her stomach growled in violent rebellion. Between the bitter cold, the injuries, and her gnawing hunger, Mok-1-21 wasn’t sure which would get her first.

In truth, Mok-1-21 was hot… in a sense. It felt as if Mok-1-21’s heart and soul were aflame with pure rage. How dare Jit-10-8 do that to her! Beat her, slander her, accuse her of cowardice. Call her a defect! Never had she been treated in such a manner in all her years in the military. As a trainee, as a cadet, or enlisted soldier. She had done her duty, served the Empire, and fought until the bitter end. A coward, was she? Of course she ran away - they all had run away! That’s the only reason any of them still had their minds and bodies to themselves!

This anger was one of the few things that abated the pain in her body. Focusing on how she would claw Jit-10-8’s eyes out allowed her to detach from the physical realm. Her rage kept her focused. Sharp. Awake and alert.

She dared not sleep, terrified that all of her meager body heat would flee from her and cause her to succumb to cold stun. Or worse. However, she did have a way to distract her exhausted mind and beaten-down body. Due to the slapdash manner in which she was disciplined and imprisoned, Mok-1-21 had access to both her suit and, more importantly, her data-slate. If anger and violent fantasies alone could not fully block the pain, then engrossing herself in old history documents just might.

Even in a nation of clones, there were still individuals with quirks and hobbies. Mok-1-21’s was that she was an avid history buff. From when she was a young hatchling, she happily devoured any history files she could get her hands on - physical or digital. Yes, the Imperial Intelligence Office made sure to go through any published files with a fine comb, and they barred access to any account written by a non-Dranza (and even restricted Dranza history, pre-gendercide), but that was for the good of the Empire and the citizenry… or so Mok-1-21 once thought.

Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the despair. Maybe it was because this was the first time she had read these old files since the human invasion. But there was something missing to them. Before, when a young Mok-1-21 dared to stay up in the barracks passed light’s out and poured over the files on her data-slate, they told the tale of glorious revolution and conquest. The triumphs and victories of the Dranza legions, and the inevitable destiny they would usher in by eliminating the male genome from the galaxy. They would create an eternal galactic sisterhood and all peoples would be united in gratitude to the Dranza.

But now? Centuries old tales of the Dranza blindsiding a vastly outnumbered Knavar fleet. Or hunting communes of Egaz across the stars for little reason other than they could. Bloody battles that ended in triumph for the Dranza… as they exterminated primitive, pacifist races (even the females! What happened to rescuing their sister’s from the masculine oppressors?) Yes, there were reports and tales of the myriad of wars and battles with the humans, but as Mok-1-21 became more and more engrossed, she noticed most of these reports ended with the Dranza engaging in “tactical withdrawals”, or battles being dubbed stalemates when the Dranza contingent suffered five-thousand casualties, traded for the lives of four-thousand slaves and zero humans.

Even ignoring such incongruities between the gospel of the Empire and the truth of reality, Mok-1-21 saw the edges of this tapestry fray before her eyes. The Dranza claimed to be the greatest Empire across the known galaxy… and while they indeed control several whole star systems, populated and ruled by their people, all the planets and moons and everything else were won and settled in the early days of the Empire. Within centuries, they peaked. A powerhouse, to be sure, but the CGA formed in the wake of the Empire's nascent days, just as strong, just as stable, but far larger. And then the humans exploded on the scene and obliterated everything the Empire had managed in decades. Jit-10-8 said that hidden reinforcements abound and they just had to wait, but if the human’s could penetrate as deep as Zandra and Virdalis, what hope did it give the rest of their meager holdings in the system?

Jit-10-8 also said the CGA could come to aid them, but the Dranza had been warring with the Alliance for generations, ages before the humans entered the picture. They had waged war on the brutish Garex patriarchy time and time again, and an attack on one member state precluded an attack on all member states, according to the Alliance charter. Then, there was the time that Empress Toavana XXII referred to the Annareal as a “a group of supremely sex-addled bimbos, flaunting their obscene bodies about, better fit for a brothel then politics”. That sure helped matters. Hell, one time the Empire made motions to plunder the Nylanai from the Annareal and forge an alliance and the Nylanai - the spineless Nylanai - found the backbone to tell them no. Even if Mok-1-21 wasn’t an avid amateur historian, it didn’t take much to piece together that whatever remained of the Dranza Empire was absolutely and utterly alone in this galaxy.

Mok-1-21 let the data-slate fall from her hands, rolling onto her back, blankly staring up at the expanse of stars above her. Her clutch-mother once told her the stars belonged to the Dranza and all who embraced their sisterhood. But it was a lie, wasn’t it? The stars belonged to no one. Or, if they did, these stars she was observing most likely belonged to the Human Federation. In less than three-hundred years, they had done what the Dranza had been harping about for a millennium.

What victories did the Dranza have? What power did they wield? What allies did they have? What legacy would they leave behind?

Lies, lies, lies, and more lies. Lies and nothing

The wind whistled through perforated rock faces and winding canyon paths. The storm raged on the ground below. The stars above twinkled, brilliant and alluring and mockingly. A deep, dark chill settled into the heart of Mok-1-21, one that had nothing to do with the climate of Dallis-5’s night.