Stupid Sexy Cryptids [31-33] (Patreon)

31: Taniwha

The crystal skull wine glass exploded in Galateya's grip, amber Ambrosia mixing with her blood as shards embedded themselves in her scaled palm. She opened her mouth to scream at Admiral Evelithria, then snapped it shut. Yelling at the fleet Admiral wouldn't accomplish anything except earn her another demotion.

A demotion to what? She had no idea. 

Probably a Colonial Governor Secretary. Yes, that was inevitably her fate, to manage the affairs of some dying fortress-nation on some unimportant, obscure colonial world.

She stalked from the pool toward the nearest bathroom, ruby hair gemstones glittering. The bathroom door sealed behind her with a click, the doorman prad cheetah offering a deep bow.

Cold water from the black basin splashed across her hand and face. The basin itself was carved from a single piece of celesteel. The black metal was woven from the dissected innards of a one hundred kilometer god-gate-crab by subjugated Silicanoids over millennia. She could feel the misery radiating from it, a thousand generations of suffering embedded in every little crystalline gold star.

Due to her Taniwha father, whom she never met, Galateya didn’t manage to end up with a Wendigo Omnitype like her sisters. Unlike the Wendigos who seemed to find the fear and pain emanations appetizing, Galateya found them nauseating and unnerving, constantly keeping her irritated, on edge of snapping into violent outbursts. 

The displayed fear and pain everywhere felt like pure... waste. Inefficiency. Suffering without purpose beyond the Wendigo need to gorge themselves on such.

A framed, disassembled human hung on the nearest wall in a gold frame, layers of hexaglass revealing spliced and pulsing organs, infused with crystalloid dust harvested from thrall remnants to keep the specimen alive and suffering forever. The man’s single lidless eye stared at her. Galateya blanched, wanting badly to tear the poor bastard from the frame to end his suffering.

"I swear, Keiy," she snarled at the blade-gun holstered at her hip. "It’s like everyone around me is a fucking imbecile."

"Noted," her weapon replied in its perpetually dry tone. "Though to be fair, most of fleet commanders are newly spawned from time-dilation bubbles like yourself."

"That's not an excuse!" Galateya's fist slammed into the celesteel wall. "A minimum of rational thought and some observation should allow them to understand how this human-run world actually functions!”

“Uh-huh.

“And the so-called ‘Emperor of Earth’ is obviously a scammer! He doesn't even know where penguins live! He claimed they lived in the Arctic! PENGUINS! They're Antarctic birds! Antarctic!!!”

Galateya splashed her face from the sink again. “Armies with vast resources losing because of incompetent command is nothing new, but leadership with their heads so far up their ass, they're being duped by locals pretending to be fictional characters? This is unprecedented, mad, absurd!”

“You heard the Admiral,” Keiy pointed out. “This planet is ridiculously safe. Loss of personnel is incredibly unlikely. The locals simply lack the weapons that can penetrate hexasuit shields worn by pradavarian legionnaires. The Princess will come to her senses in a few days time and take her place on her assigned warship. It's just a minor family quarrel."

Galateya’s fists opened and closed.

"Not everyone was fortunate enough to be raised the same way you were," Keiy pointed out. "Need I remind you that our time dilation educational bubble was unique, set up by Thunderbird Iowsh who granted you access to a human-engineered GLM AI. It blessed you with a greater understanding of human culture and tech than the other commanders. If you wish to interact with the Admiral again, I suggest you calm yourself before returning to the Pleasure Deck.”

Galateya growled.

“None of that,” Keiy said. “Focus! Be a tree.” 

Galateya forced herself to phase-shift into a log, skin becoming bark, ruby hair dulling to moss. The transformation was sluggish as the Aetheric density of this dimension was terribly wrong in some unexpected way. “Too much linearity”, the egghead Datamancer Arch-coven concluded.

The Taniwha held the tree log form for several minutes, pretend-photosynthesising and thinking slowly, until her rage cooled to mere simmering irritation. Slowly, bark became scales again, moss shifting to crystalline, icy silver strands.

She emerged from the bathroom, striding through the command deck's opulent corridors. A gargantuan circular pool dominated the Pleasure Floor, its black waters rippling with movements of hundreds of naked, decorated male Pradavarians: wolves painted with elaborate spirals, hawks with golden feathers woven through their wings, felines with diamonds entwined into their fur braids, serpentine lizards with scales polished to mirror brightness, foxes with tails permanently fused with gold. They lounged at the edges and within alcove corners, living art pieces for the Omnid officers' amusement, ready to serve their masters in any capacity at any moment’s notice.

Admiral Evelithria reclined halfway submerged in voidwhale blood, watching holographic displays of human males while sipping Ambrosia from a crystalline skull goblet.

"Perhaps we can designate this world as a pleasure colony for lower tier races," Legate Ixthia suggested, "The one male to one female ratio is a convenient start. Look at the variety! So many different phenotypes to breed from."

"The Asian stock seems to display greater devotion to institutional obedience according to my Datamancer reports," Legate Vethisa commented, yawning as her attendant, a tiger Pradavarian with platinum stripes, massaged her feet. "Though the Africans have superior musculature."

"We'll take samples from all populations," Evelithria decided, gesturing at a particularly lewd video playing on the gargantuan projection. "Selective breeding programs can be set up to enhance the traits we find most... entertaining and unique. In a few generations, we'll have custom-designed pleasure slaves to reward the prad Alphas with."

“Why would our pets need to be rewarded with such?” Legate Obliss asked. “The blood contract makes them perfectly obedient and we've already concluded that keeping prad males and females together reduces female task performance.”

“A pet is best managed with a snack and whip. The humans are perfect snack rewards for prads. There’s a deficiency of prad males due to their birth ratio,” Evelithria pointed out. “This world is full of males. Four billion males. More than enough to be treats for our ever-expanding prad Divisions. The blood contract isn't enough. It decays, weakens with each Pradavarian death. The Incarnator doesn't work that well on lower races. Entropy seeps into the equation. We established a death number limit. When it is reached, a Pradavarian female should retire on a pleasure world where they can continue to be useful as an Omnid servant, trainer and consultant, bound not by blood but by… these simple treats.”

Obliss pursed her lips.

“We can remake this entire planet into a Pradavarian ideal heaven,” Evelithria smiled. “Perhaps a Pleasure world for wealthy Omnids too. We can build citadels in the most scenic locations and fill them with male prads, Ambrosia bars and Voidblood pools”

"Step one would be to erase the current human culture," Legate Ixthia contemplated, "All this fictional nonsense they're currently attached to has to go."

"Naturally," the Admiral agreed. "We should replace it with proper veneration to the Frontenachii Dominion. Hrm… What was it that they see us as again?"

“Demonic beings of the isolated northern forests,” Vethisa said. “A blend of myth, horror fiction, and pop culture. Gaunt, emaciated creatures. Animalistic spirits of greed and hunger.” 

“Why?” the Admiral wondered.

“Unknown.” Ixthia blanched. “It is possible that one of our ancestors came hunting here and got himself trapped… or was punished for some crime and sent here via a Mothman-cast  dimensional gate. If he was badly injured… without proper mana circulation, hoard and kobolds…”

“Are you saying that an Omnid Wendigo could decay into…” the Admiral huffed.

“We don’t know what long term exposure of local Aetheric linearity could do to an injured Omnid,” Vethisa pointed out. “Should we devote a Scrut Division to look for a lost Wendigo in the North wilderness?”

"If we find some pathetic ancestor stranded here, decayed to madness over centuries... it would be a mercy to execute them,” Evelithria huffed and snapped her fingers, summoning a kobold attendant to refill her Ambrosia. “Can you imagine the embarrassment? A Wendigo reduced to lurking in forests, feasting on these primitives like some common beast?"

"Then we vanish them if found," Ixthia decided. "Quietly. A quick job for a Marshall Commandant. No need for the fleet to know one of us could devolve into... whatever the humans imagine us to be."

Galateya's jaw clenched. Here were her superiors, lounging in luxury built on millennia of suffering, discussing executing their own kind for the crime of being weakened by dimensional physics while simultaneously planning to breed humans like cattle. The hypocrisy made her scales itch.

A pleasant musical note in the air announced an incoming transmission. The Admiral waved a hand, accepting the Voicecast.

Commander Sillicia's lifesize hologram materialized at the pool's edge, fully armored and covered in soot.

"Admiral!" Sillicia saluted. "Division 881 successfully cleared and is processing the vampire compound. We've recovered seventeen mature crystalloids and 412 thralls all in various states of liquefaction. The Corpse Seekers are already beginning conversion of harvested material into new weapon units. We just breached a vault and discovered a variety of artifacts, including what my Scruts are reporting is a lich crown that can create dimensional gates!”

"Excellent work, Commander!" Evelithria smiled. “Congrats on your elevation in ranking. Your Division delivered excellent results ahead of everyone else!"

"The credit goes to my Alpha and Datamancer who were aided by… a local informant," Sillicia said. 

"A human helped you?" Ixthia's antlers tilted with interest. "Willingly?"

"He seemed quite eager to assist. My Alpha-Scrutimancer is interested in claiming him."

The commanders exchanged amused glances.

"How quaint," Vethisa chuckled. "Our pet Scruts are already making pets of the locals. I guess that the Admiral's pleasure world plan does hold some merit.”

“Is that not against protocol?” Ixthia arched an eyebrow.

“I’ll allow it, especially if it nets us more results like this,” Evelithria waved a hand. “A dimensional gate that can operate without a Mothman is of great value, especially if we can pull spatial data from the artifact. Besides, we’ve yet to establish the most effective protocols and use for the human resource of Earth 88-04-71. Monitor your Alpha’s performance and see if it goes up or down due to the human’s presence.”

“Can do,” Sillicia nodded.

Galateya couldn't help herself since she'd just gone over Division 881’s reports. "Perhaps we should analyze why a random human was more effective at intelligence gathering than our entire fleet."

The pool went silent. The antlerred half-gods turned.

"What was that, Scion Galateya?" Evelithria's voice carried a dangerous edge. 

"I'm simply noticing," Galateya said, "that if a single human can provide better intelligence than thousands of Scrutimancers, perhaps we should reconsider our approach to—"

"You presume to critique fleet strategy, spawnling? You, who constantly keeps butting heads with others for the most absurd of reasons?" The Admiral's feathers fluttered slightly and then went down as a kobold attendant began massaging her shoulders. 

"Like father, like daughter," Vethisa added with a cruel smile. "Taniwha blood always makes them difficult. Too much lateral thinking, the territorial desire for justice and harmony clouding judgement. Not enough cunning…”

Ixthia sighed.

Galateya's hands clenched. Keiy buzzed in warning against her hip. Vethisa descended into a general rant about blood purity and non-Wendigo Omnitypes being inferior intelligence officers due to not being cunning or daring enough to do what was necessary to preserve their civilization against encroaching cosmic horrors, Celestorms and entropy waves.

"Commander Sillicia," the Admiral said, ignoring Galateya and Vethisa entirely, "continue your excellent work. Scout the surrounding area for any crystalloids or thralls that might have eluded capture."

“Already on it, my Lady,” Sillicia said. “Several packs from Division 881’s landing party have been dispatched in smaller Corpse Seekers to search for any stragglers!”

"Commander Sillicia, did your Division happen to track where Sherlock Holmes went after giving your human informant the map?”

“Why?” Sillicia asked. “We know that he lives on Baker Street in London.”

Galateya's eye twitched. “Fine. Did you happen to notice any correlation between population density and local Aetheric suppression?" 

Sillicia's hologram turned to her with a small twitch. "Scion Galateya, my Division is focused on actual results, not theoretical speculation."

"It's hardly theoretical when—"

"When what?" Sillicia interrupted. "When you've spent your entire deployment cycle analyzing data from the comfort of your quarters? Some of us are actually on the ground, dealing with reality rather than mentally pawing at speculatory hallucinations generated by artificial intelligence running on… what was it? Dead rocks? Sand? Even my brilliant, ordinarily reclusive Datamancer is down here, making sure that we get as much as possible out of this nest and our newest human informant.”

Several commanders chuckled. Galateya's lack of kobolds was well-known as she'd never successfully bound a single Pradavarian to her service. 

“What exactly is your conclusion, my spawnling?” Ixthia grinned. “Let’s hear your… theorising.”

“The Aetheric density isn’t even,” Galateya ground out at her great-grandmother. “There are microscopic variations, such as the deviation within the valley near the town of Cascade currently being investigated by Division 881.” She paused, then pressed on despite the hostile audience. "The variations correlate with human population density. Where there are more humans who don't believe in magic, the Aetheric linearity intensifies. It's as if their collective observation creates a causality field that actively rejects magical frameworks. Eight billion conscious observers, all unconsciously agreeing that magic doesn't exist, could generate a consensus reality field that—"

"Could generate delusions in failed commanders who spend too much time with their artificial intelligence toys that don’t even work properly in a dimension with scale of +2.78 Entropy variance," Sillicia interrupted. "Some of us have actual Datamancers to analyze real information, not theoretical gibberish spouted by human-designed… toys."

“Thunderbird designed!” Galateya’s mane ignited with watery swirls of compressed air. The jab landed precisely where intended. Galateya's lack of a Datamancer kobold made a constant source of mockery. 

"The local humans lack heart cores, meaning that they cannot possibly interact with Aether. They are about as useful as the vermin humanity existing at the edges of Omnithornia,” Vethisa pointed out. “Mere livestock in unusually large numbers. I suggest we empty out their prisons and begin mass experiments on a large number of subjects.”

“Not until the Datamancer Arch-coven reaches consensus on the most effective path forward.” The Admiral said.

"If Galateya's theory has merit," Ixthia mused, swirling her Ambrosia, "we could test it easily enough. Rapidly remove 100% percent of the human population from a particular overpopulated location. See if the Aetheric density shifts."

32: Coverup

“Elder!” Galateya's scales turned brilliant red. "You can't be serious. There are vast uninhabited regions we could examine first—deserts, oceans, the polar regions where—"

"Sounds like a waste of time to me," Evelithria shrugged. 

“Following leads about characters from human children's books is a waste of time!” Galatea barked.

The Admiral’s glare intensified.

"Without a proper Datamancer to process information, you're seeing patterns where none exist, Scion,” Commander Zephyra commented with a yawn from the couch where she was being serviced by two Prad males.

More chuckles rippled through the assembled Omnids. 

Galateya's jaw clenched as she began losing control of her phase-shift. The familiar burning sensation of the suffering-infused celesteel architecture pressed against her consciousness, driving her mental. 

Every surface in this damned ship radiated agony, making it impossible to think clearly, to maintain the calm needed for proper command and calmly presented arguments. It was no wonder that her performance metrics were consistently lower than her Wendigo sisters with the damned ship walls and human art pounding at her psyche 24/7.

"You know, my spawnling," Ixthia said thoughtfully, studying Galateya, "An affection for these primitives makes sense, given your... unique education. Tell me, do you sympathise with the humans?"

Galateya ignited brilliant red. “I do not! If…” she choked, trying to find a rational point that these idiot Elders would understand.

“What’s her unique education?” Commander Piashona asked.

"She’s a Thunderbird's little experiment," Zephyra replied. "Training an Omnid commander using human silicon-based technology, kobold programmers feeding terabytes of their cultural contamination to a soulless machine to produce a simulation of intelligence. I heard that Dr. Iowsh bound a human soul to a thinking rock to make it less like a stochastic hallucinating parrot and more like an approximation of a Datamancer.”

“Sounds like some fucked up shit,” Piashona commented. “Why go that far?”

“Some deviation variety during training was necessary to produce flexible commanders,” Zephyra shrugged. “Especially when dealing with non-Wendigo Omnitypes who have low tolerance for god-crab block architecture.”

“If the null humans don't interact with the Aether, then why would they make for such… delicious art for you?” Galateya finally barked. “You wouldn’t be hanging spliced humans across the entire ship in fancy frames if they weren’t… important!”

The pool fell silent at Galateya's outburst. A few kobold attendants winced.

"Important?" Ixthia's voice dripped venom. "They're decoration, my spawnling! Nothing more. Their delightful suffering seasons our victories. Surely you don’t expect us to cut up our lovely Prad, magically-talented servants for such.” She petted a wolf next to her who smiled nervously.

“Human, magic-less bodies are null, have zero Aetheric resistance. Meaning it’s easier to observe, sample their suffering at a glance. You’d know that if you studied under a proper archmage instructor, Scion,” Zephyra scoffed.

"If their bodies are null, then maybe the consensus reality field is the way they interact with the particularities of the local Aether!" Galateya insisted.

"Your obsession with speculation about these primitives has gone on long enough, Scion,” the Admiral stated. “You speak of them as if their collective delusions could somehow affect dimensional physics! Something cannot manifest from nothing."

"But,” Galateya backtracked. “It’s not something. It’s a type of, uhh, nothing. It’s… a type of magical suppression! Collective magical suppression!”

"Which is theoretical at best without proper analysis from a real Datamancer," Vethisa sneered. "A silicon toy doesn't count."

Chortles from the others, including the kobold males who seemed to find this comment particularly amusing. Whispers about her refusing to bind or even sample a prad danced across the pool edges.

Two red flashes suddenly appeared on the Division ranking chart. Sillicia glanced at the ranking chart and winced.

“Hrmm,” Evelithria mused. “How did you manage to lose two prads in… Cascade?”

“I… I don’t know, Admiral,” Sillicia admitted, watching her ranking plummet. She was still above the other Divisions, but this was unacceptable. Just when things were going so good for her... Two idiot cats somehow managed to get themselves killed.

"You know what I think, my spawnling?” Ixthia smiled deviously, noticing Sillicia’s expression shift from victorious to miserable. “I think you need practical experience. Ground-level exposure to these humans you're so fascinated by."

Galateya's scales shifted to defensive orange-yellows. "Elder, I—"

"Commander Sillicia," Ixthia's voice cut through the protest of her great-granddaughter. "Division 881 has proven most effective today. You'll take Commander Galateya as a... Beta-Knight to make up for the loss of… Uhhh.” Ixthia squinted at the ranking chart. “Pradavarian Beta-Knight Zyra Blish. Let my spawnling see firsthand how insignificant these humans truly are."

Sillicia's hologram went rigid. "Legate Ixthia, with respect, Division 881 operates at peak efficiency because of our established protocols and team cohesion. Adding an untested Omnid without kobolds would—"

"Would provide valuable field experience," Ixthia affirmed. "Consider it an honor to work with my Scion, Sillicia."

"Legate, I must protest!" Sillicia’s eye twitched. "Scion Galateya has no combat experience, no pradavarian bonds, and her... unconventional theories might disrupt—"

"Are you questioning the direct order of a Legate, Commander?" Evelithria's voice dropped ever so slightly.

"No, Admiral. But Division 881 is currently pursuing active leads on crystalloid stragglers. Having to babysit a knob—I mean, uhh, orient a new Knight could compromise our operational tempo."

"I don't need babysitting," Galateya snarled, scales flashing crimson. "I've run more simulations than—"

"Simulations!" Sillicia laughed bitterly. "You've played games with a Thunderbird-designed thinking machine while I've conquered actual worlds with my kobolds. Do you even know how to properly interrogate a prisoner? Can you smell deception without a Scrutimancer? Have you ever had to execute your own subordinates to maintain operational security?"

The questions hung in the air like a two-dimensional blade.

"I haven't needed to execute anyone because I don't make mistakes that require covering up," Galateya shot back.

Several commanders gasped.

"Oh, this will be verrrry educational indeed," Ixthia purred. "Sillicia, do integrate Commander Galateya into your operations. She'll observe, learn, and perhaps gain some appreciation for the realities of conquest."

"And if she compromises our operations?" Sillicia asked tightly.

"Then you have my permission to handle it as you see fit," the Admiral said. "Within regulation, of course."

Galateya's blade-gun Keiy buzzed urgently. "This is a trap," the weapon vibrated in her head. "They're setting you up to fail."

"I know," Galateya sub-vocalized back.

"Commander Galateya, you're to report to Division 881's within the hour," Ixthia commanded. "Take only your weapon and armor. No silicon toys, no excuses. You’ll be working with…” She stared at the chart again. “Marshal Commandant Nexxali Everrim. Do attempt to find out how the Prad Commandant managed to lose a Knight and Scrut.”

"Understood, Elder." Galateya nodded.

"Oh, and Galateya?" Vethisa called out as Galateya turned to leave. "Do try not to sympathize with the livestock. It's so... unbecoming of a Frontenachii. Your performance will be monitored. This is your last chance. If you fail as 881’s Omnid Knight, we will be within our rights to expel you from the 3rd fleet and make you serve on some abyss-forsaken doomed world as Assistant Secretary.”

Laughter followed Galateya out of the Pleasure Deck.

Galateya’s brisk walk to the transit gate was blessed with Keiy's criticisms.

"Sillicia will make your deployment miserable," the blade pointed out. "She's notorious for 'accidents' befalling rivals."

"I'm not her rival. I'm barely considered a Knight at this point. I’m pretty much a Sixie without outright saying so."

"You challenged her competence in front of the entire fleet command structure. In her mind, you're worse than a rival—you're an insult! And Sillicia doesn't tolerate insults."

Galateya reached the transit gate chamber, a circular room lined with crystalline mana amps. A Mothman gater was snoozing in her round couch beside the black ring gate, a Julie Verne novel laying on the floor beside her.

“My lady,” A Pradavarian shark manservant shook his sleeping owner. “You have a visitor.”

“Wugh?” 

“I need a transit gate to Corpse Seeker 881-Zeta,” Galateya ground out as her gun flashed a red transit permit beam at the symbiote inhabiting the gate.

“Aight,” the Mothman scratched her fuzzy chest. She reached out towards the gate and runic lights lit up flashing red. “Uhhh… yeah, no can do. Corpse Seeker 881-Zeta isn't responding for some reason.”

"That's odd," Keiy observed. “Let me ping it.”

“Sorry.” The gater yawned. “Want a gate somewhere nearby? Corpse Seeker 881-Alpha is closest.”

Galateya frowned, pulling up the fleet registry on her neural interface. Corpse Seeker 881-Zeta showed as "Diagnostic Cycle - Marshal Commandant Nexxali Everrim authorization."

"Why would a Marshal Commandant put a Seeker into full diagnostic during active operations?" Galateya muttered.

"Perhaps there was damage from the vampire compound assault?" Keiy suggested.

"No, Sillicia would have mentioned that in her report. Seeker Zeta was inside Alpha and didn’t encounter any issues whatsoever after making planetfall," Galateya cycled through the other Division 881 Seekers. All showed active status except Zeta. "Something's wrong here."

She pulled up the loss report for the two Pradavarians. Knight Zyra Blish and Scrutimancer Nadera Korin. Killed in action, awaiting resurrection. The report was made by Marshal Commandant Nexxali, filed just thirty minutes ago. Brief. Too brief. No engagement details, no tactical assessment, just "hostile crystalloid thralls - terminated." The report came from the symbiote guns currently also in… diagnostic mode.

"Keiy, what's the standard protocol for Prad deaths during crystalloid collection operations?"

"Immediate body recovery, detailed incident report including Scrutimancer sensory logs, and command review within six hours. Scrutimancer Nadera is dead and hasn’t been resurrected yet, so she cannot report."

"This report has none of that. Just a single line." Galateya's scales shifted to suspicious yellows. "And why is their Seeker and both guns in maintenance if the team is still operational?"

"You're thinking cover-up," Keiy stated.

"I'm thinking something's fucky down there." Galateya muttered, glancing at the disinterested Moth who went back to her nap as her Prad manservant began massaging her shoulders. "If I gate into another 881 Seeker, I could be walking right into Sillicia's trap. She could claim I was interfering with operations or get me killed while making it look like a crystalloid attack.”

"So what's our play?"

Galateya strode toward the equipment bay. "We go in independently. No gates."

The equipment bay thrummed with activity as maintenance crews prepped vehicles for deployment. Galateya approached the quartermaster, a Rubicund Lindworm.

"I need a Mark VII glider frame," she said, Keiy flashing her commander credentials.

The quartermaster's gold eyes focused on her. "Purpose of requisition?"

"Emergency deployment to Earth surface. Division 881 support operation."

"You're assigned to 881 as a Knight?" The Lindworm arched a dark red eyebrow. "The standard procedure is to gate to—"

"Just assigned. No can do. Direct order from Legate Ixthia." Galateya let a hint of her great-grandmother's authority color her tone. "Are you questioning a Legate's orders?"

"No, Knight. Bay Seven. Frame's prepped and ready."

The Strand Glider Mark VII sat sleek and predatory, all black angles and compressed violence. Just an empty shell decorated with red stripes marking it as a Rubicund Omnid model waiting for a symbiote weapon to inhabit it.

"Ready?" Galateya asked Keiy.

"Always," the blade-gun replied. "Though I should note this is highly irregular."

"Everything about this situation is irregular as fuck. Get in." Galateya ordered. Keiy unfolded into a spider and skittered into the glider frame.

The frame shuddered as Keiy integrated with its systems. Panels lit up with pulsing red lights that shifted to green.

"All systems optimal," Keiy voiced. "Though I really prefer my own form. Vehicle shells feel so... dispersed."

Galateya climbed aboard, feeling the frame adjust to her weight and form. "Course plotted for Cascade. We're going in fast and low. No communication with 881 until we assess the situation."

"You realize if you're wrong about this, Sillicia will have every right to have you court-martialed?"

"And if I'm right, something's compromising our operations down there." The hangar doors irised open, revealing Earth below, blue and white and deceptively peaceful. "Maximum burn, Keiy. Let's see what Marshal Commandant Nexxali is hiding."

The frame erupted from the hangar at top speed. The acceleration pressed Galateya back into the seat as they dove toward the planet, the curvature of Earth filling her vision. The Pacific Ocean sparkled below, Mount Olympus's wounded flank visibly damaged from the vampire compound strike.

"Incoming transmission from Division 881," Keiy reported.

"Ignore it."

"They're demanding to know why an unscheduled glider is entering their operational area."

"Keep ignoring it. How long to Cascade?"

"At this velocity? Three minutes."

Galateya watched the landscape blur below. Forest, mountains, the long winding roads that connected human settlements like veins flashed behind her. Whatever was happening down there, she was about to land right in the middle of it.

"Detecting Corpse Seeker 881-Zeta ahead," Keiy announced. "Still in maintenance mode. No defensive posture, no active scanning. Full shutdown. That's... definitely not standard."

"And the Marshal Commandant?"

"Unknown location. The Seeker's in full diagnostic lockdown. Can't access any logs until the cycle completes." Keiy's voice carried a note of suspicion. "Shall we investigate?"

Galateya approached the Corpse Seeker, its crystalline segments dulled and unresponsive. The entrance was wide open, another irregularity to add to the pile of irregularities. 

Inside, the organic-crystalline interior pulsed with maintenance lights, every system and organelle in process of checking itself and each other for damage. Two Pradavarian bodies lay crumpled in storage area. A panther and a tiger in full armor, massive exit wounds visible in their skulls.

"Keiy, examine them," Galateya ordered. The symbiote skittered around the corpses flashing them with its scanner beam.

"Beta-Knight Zyra Blish and Beta-Scrutimancer Nadera Korin. Cause of death: catastrophic cranial trauma from projectile weapon discharge."

"Their shields?"

"No signs of shield deployment. No defensive scarring on the armor." Keiy paused, examining the entry wounds more carefully. "Shot from behind in the head. Close range.”

"Execution style. What could penetrate their armor without triggering the shields?"

"Two possibilities," Keiy said, extending a sensor probe into one of the wounds. "Either the locals possess weapons we haven't catalogued, which is highly unlikely given our intelligence or..." The gun went silent.

"Or?"

"Or they were shot with an Omnid-manufactured sidearm. The kind issued to Marshal Commandants. The wounds are consistent with a Nazan VI Pacifier. No shield would deploy against a Marshal officer's weapon, it would recognize the authorization signature."

"You're suggesting Nexxali executed her own squad?"

"I'm stating facts. Draw your own conclusions." Keiy moved to the weapon racks. "Their symbiote partners are here. Folded in weapon panels and in maintenance mode, same as the Seeker. They won't respond until the diagnostic completes."

"How long?"

"Based on the cycle timestamp... another three hours, minimum."

Galateya's mane rippled with agitation. "Can you override it?"

"Not without Marshal-level authorization. This is a deliberate lockdown, not a malfunction."

"Then we track manually. Scan the area. Find Nexxali's trail."

“On it. The gun skittered outside. 

Galateya was glad that she augmented Keiy with every possible symbiote weapon mod available. As he didn’t have kobolds, it was Keiy’s job to function as her personal Scrut.

"The Marshal was inside this primitive vehicle." Keiy concluded after scanning the red Cherokee. "Drooled on the seat. Very recently. Along with... a human male."

"And then?"

"The trail leads to the structure." Keiy's sensors focused on the gothic mansion.

Galateya approached the house, noting the damaged porch.

“The structure and surrounding area was scraped clean by symbiote weapons very recently.” Keiy added. “The Astral traces are too clean.”

Galateya growled. The coverup details were intensifying.

The front door opened.

A human male stepped onto the porch. Dark hair, average height, tired hazel eyes that seemed utterly unsurprised to see a seven-foot Taniwha-Wendigo hybrid standing in his driveway. "Can I help you, Miss...?" He asked with a tone that was far too casual.

32: A Knight in Shining Scales

The eggs were sizzling nicely in the pan when my entire house decided to vibrate like a tuning fork. The windows rattled, dishes clinked in the cabinets, and a fine layer of dust cascaded from the ceiling beams.

The sound intensified, like someone had strapped jet engines to a freight train and told it to do donuts around my property.

Nexxali shrieked, hopping up cat-style from her position on the kitchen floor, where she'd been contentedly gnawing on catnip toys while ostensibly "supervising" my cooking. Her golden eyes went wide as another wave of deafening noise hammered across the house.

"Sounds like one of yours," I shouted over the din. “Any idea who it might be?”

"How the shit would I know?!" She tried to stand, wobbled, then gave up and crawled to the nearest window on all fours, squinting out. "I'm officially off-duty! In maintenance mode! Like my Seeker! Very important maintenance involving… delicious grass sampling!"

Through the kitchen window, I caught a glimpse of something black and angular screaming past at an altitude that definitely violated several FAA regulations. The glider banked hard, circling the property like a very large, very loud predatory bird.

"Shit, shit, shit," Nexxali muttered, pressing her face and smooshing her snout against the glass. "Military glider. Someone from the fleet is here for some reason."

"I thought you said the Seeker was in maintenance mode for four more hours and that nobody would bother our lunch?"

"It IS! Which means someone decided to bypass standard gate-in protocols and—" Her eyes went wide. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck me sideways with a ceremonial spear."

"What?"

"That's an Omnid frame, not a Prad one. Strand Mark VII! Look at the red stripes! Only Wendigo commanders get those!" She spun to face me, catnip toy mouse dangling from her mouth. "There's a fucking Frontenachii about to land in your driveway! Congratulations, we’re dead. Extra, super dead. Welp, it was nice knowing you… you cute, sneaky human."

The engine noise cut off abruptly to a whine of gravitic stabilizers as the glider descended.

"You must hide me," Nexxali hissed, diving behind the kitchen island. "If they see me like this, I'm beyond dead. I'm gonna be turned into boot polish!"

"You—"

"I'm compromised six ways to Sunday!" She flailed. "Tell them I'm conducting a thorough investigation somewhere… far away! Tell them I'm interrogating you! Tell them anything except that I'm currently too high to stand up straight!"

I glanced out the window. A figure in black armor dismounted from the glider. Unlike the Wendigo skull-faces I'd seen thus far, this one had an alligator-style snout and scales that shifted between reds and golds, with crystalline hair that undulated between frozen water and gem curtains. More importantly, she looked very irritated.

"Who’s that?" I asked as the alien and its spider gun went into the Corpse Seeker.

“Ughhhhh,” Nexxali squinted. “I don’t know. An Omnid, obviously. Doesn’t look like a Prad. See how her colors and scales are wiggling? They’re wiggling right? I can’t tell, I’m mega high.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Her colors are wiggling. She’s some kind of a rainbow dragon or something?”

“Uhhh… I think she’s a… Taniwha. Das’ it.” The Serval finally concluded. “Natural shape-shifting.”

“Anything else useful?”

“I dunno, my suit’s dead and my Seeker’s offline” Nexxali hissed, ducking down and wiggling on all fours toward the pantry. “Just make her go away! Use your irresistible human charm or whatever!”

“Weaknesses? Skills? Give me something to work with, damn it!”

“Ughhhh…” the Serval groaned, halfway into the pantry. “They can control water and other rando’ elements, shapeshift to contro’ elements better… and uhh…”

“Can she read minds like the Wendigos? Boss people with words like you? Determine if I’m lying?”

“Nope, nope and nope.”

I relaxed. “Great. No mental powers then?”

“Ye ye. Shhh. I’m not here.”

I smiled at the cat hiding in my kitchen pantry, closed the door behind me, walked through the hall, pocketed my house key, opened the door and stepped out onto the damaged porch. I snapped the door shut behind me, trying to project an air of casual confidence at the irritated-looking dragon girl standing in my driveway.

"Can I help you, Miss...?" I called out, keeping my tone friendly but not overly welcoming.

The scaled Omnid looked at me, her crystalline hair catching the morning light like a waterfall made of diamonds.

"I am Knight Galateya Frontenachii of… Division 881," she announced, her voice carrying an odd resonance, like multiple tones harmonizing, almost like her voice was being auto-tuned to sound musical. "I'm looking for Marshal Commandant Nexxali Everrim. Her Corpse Seeker is here." She pointed at the Omnid tank.

"Yeah, it's been sitting there for a while," I glanced toward the safe-mode crystalline centipede casually occupying my driveway like the world's most expensive and also currently useless security system. "Thought that maybe one of your space towing trucks would come down and pick it up or something."

“Are you the owner of this property? State your name for the record.” Her spider gun flashed a red beam across my body.

“Ashcroft Clifford,” I said, blinking red spots out of my eyes.

Galateya's scales very slowly shifted from silver-violets to orange-yellows as she strode closer. "When did you last see Marshal Commandant Nexxali?"

"A while ago. Kind of not paying attention to much stuff except for staring at aliens on TV making presidents surrender." I shrugged. "She went off to do… alien military things, I assume. Maybe into town to make the mayor surrender. Isn’t that what you aliens do?”

"Military things," Galateya repeated flatly. "You're being deliberately vague."

"And you're being deliberately tall, sparkly and intimidating," I countered. "Standing in my driveway with your fancy armor and color-changing scales. What even are you? Not a Wendigo like the others."

"I'm a Taniwha," she said.

"Which is...?"

"None of your concern." She moved up the porch stairs. "I need to inspect the premises."

"Whoa there, big dragon lady." I stepped to block her path. "You can't just barge into my house. We have laws here. Property rights. Ever heard of them?"

Galateya's scales flashed blue. "Your… primitive legal constructs don't apply to Frontenachii operations."

"Uh-huh, except according to your Admiral's broadcast, Earth is under Frontenachii rule now. Which means your laws apply here too, right? And I'm betting even your empire has protocols about entering private dwellings without cause. Our vice-president signed a surrender. Aren’t all of us property of your Princess thanks to our Emperor too? So unless you have some kind of warrant or probable cause—”

“You don’t have an Emperor,” she stated.

I opened my mouth to argue about my own made up existence.

“Do you take me for a fool?” She asked. “Presume me an absolute brainless imbecile like the others?” Her mane gradually turned ruby-red.

"I wouldn’t presume such things about such a fine lady," I smiled jovially. "You're obviously the smartest, most observant, most stunningly scaled officer to grace my driveway today. Those crystalline hair strands? And the way your scales shift colors? It's like watching a sunset that could probably kill me with a single smack."

Galateya's expression didn't change. "Flattery. How tedious."

"It's not flattery if it's true! You're literally glowing. Is that a Taniwha thing? Because it's working. The bioluminescence? Very intimidating yet lovely. You’re definitely a sight for sore eyes after seeing all of those dark, spooky antlerred…”

"Stop." Her voice sharpened. "You were in that vehicle with Marshal Commandant Nexxali.” She pointed at my red jeep. “What were you doing with her?"

"Would you believe me if I said we were discussing Earth's infrastructure?"

"No."

"How about reviewing local governance structures?"

"No."

"Exchanging cultural perspectives on the nature of conquest?"

"You're stalling." Galateya stepped closer. "Keiy, analyze the human's chemical signature for deception markers."

The spider-gun extended a sensor array toward me. "Elevated heart rate, perspiration, minor pupil dilation. Classic stress responses. The human is hiding something significant."

"I'm stressed because there's a giant, pretty dragon lady and her adorable talking gun-spider on my porch!" I protested. "That's a totally normal human response!"

“Adorable?” The gun repeated.

“Totally adorable!” I nodded. “Can I hug you? What’s your name, cutie?”

The gun made a confused noise, trio of red eyes flickering. “My designation is… Keiy.”

“Like a house key?” I asked. “Did Galya name you?”

“She… did.”

“Do you like it?”

“It is an adequate name.”

“Where is Marshal Commandant Nexxali, human?" Galateya ground out, interjecting herself into our conversation.

"I honestly don't know where she went," I said, which was technically true. I didn't know exactly which shelf in the pantry she was currently hiding behind.

"But you know something," Galateya pressed. "The Marshal was here. She entered your domicile.”

“The Marshal explicitly ordered me not to let anyone bother her as she’s investigating…” I began and found myself pushed aside by a large dragon girl’s hand. It wasn't aggressive, just... inevitable. Like trying to stop a glacier.

She reached for my front door and wiggled the knob, failing to open it. “Open the door, human,” She ordered. 

"You know," I said, "for an advanced civilization, you all have terrible manners."

"Manners are a luxury for species that aren't in the middle of conquering a planet. Five seconds to open your door before I break it.”

“I’m charmed by your lovely Marshal’s divine voice,” I said. “I cannot let you in.”

“Keiy,” Galateya growled.

The spider-gun extended a thin probe toward the lock, then paused. "The lock is a primitive mechanical construction. Should I breach it?"

"Wait!" I said quickly. "That's destruction of property! Marshal Commandant Nexxali specifically told me she'd be back to complete her investigation. She said if anyone tried to interfere, I should document it for her report."

Galateya's scales shifted to suspicious oranges. "Document what exactly?"

"Operational interference by other divisions," I said, pulling out my tablet. "She was very specific. Said something about jurisdictional protocols and chain of command. I don't understand all your military stuff, but she seemed pretty serious about nobody messing with her investigation site."

"Investigation of what?" Galateya's eyes narrowed.

"The vampire incident. Thralls attacked some of your people here, right? The Marshal said this was an active crime scene."

Galateya’s had enough of my ramblings, her hand going to the door. This time when she tried the handle, she simply twisted harder and pulled until the door frame broke. Frost spread across the lock and door in bewildering patterns.

"Hey! That's breaking and entering!" I protested, following her inside. “I'm documenting this criminality!”

"File a complaint with the occupation authority," she said, striding through my hallway. 

"Keiy!” I pleaded. “Document this injustice and file it to your superiors! She broke my front door! I demand a compensation of one gold cube for historic lock replacement!”

“Listen here, you irritating, small, cheeky human.” Galateya growled. “My symbiote weapon does not need to listen to you, nor report anything to anyone.” 

"Keiy is an independent thinker!" I protested. "Aren't you, Keiy? You have your own beautiful thoughts and opinions, yes?"

The spider-gun's trio of eyes swiveled between me and Galateya. "I... do possess autonomous cognitive functions, yes."

"See? She's not just a tool. She's a wonderful person! With feelings!"

"Stop trying to manipulate my partner," Galateya snapped, moving into my living room. "The Marshal was here. Recently. I can smell her."

"There was a fight here," Keiy stated. “It was cleaned up.”

"Yeah, some vampire tried to kidnap me earlier," I said, following the dragon and her gun. "Your Marshal saved me. Very heroic. Lots of shooting. I was kind of busy being traumatized. Lots of your people have been here. It's like a… Grand Central Station for aliens! First the Wendigo, then the vampires, then catgirls, now a rainbow dragon. I should start charging admission."

"What Wendigo?" Galateya's scales shifted to bright orange gems as she spun to face me fully.

"Tall, dark, antlers?" I gestured vaguely upward. "Very intense. Showed up out of nowhere, made a mess, then left when the mountain exploded. Your Marshal asked me about her too."

"Describe this Wendigo. Precisely." Galateya's voice had lost all pretense of casual investigation.

"Like I told the Marshal—big, scary, lots of teeth. Black fur? She was very... grabby." I showed my bruised wrists. "Not gentle at all."

Galateya's scales cycled through several colors and textures. "A Frontenachii was here. In this primitive dwelling. And Marshal Nexxali knew about it."

"She seemed pretty interested when I mentioned it," I said. "Asked lots of questions. Made me describe everything multiple times."

"And the Marshal's investigation concluded...?"

"I don't know what she concluded. She just kept asking about the Wendigo and the vampires, then said she had to file reports or something."

Keiy skittered closer, sensors extended. "Analyzing bruise patterns. Consistent with Wendigo grip strength. Age of bruising: approximately 18-24 hours."

"Did she identify herself?" Galateya demanded.

I shrugged. "She wasn't exactly chatty. More... action-oriented? The vampires showing up really pissed her off though. She destroyed them pretty thoroughly."

"The vampires came here?"

"Yes."

Galateya's crystalline hair chimed as she began pacing. "A Frontenachii. Here. Destroying crystalloids. And Nexxali covered it up."

"Covered what up?" I asked innocently.

"The Admiral would want to know if one of her commanders was conducting unauthorized operations on the surface," Galateya muttered, more to herself than me. "Unless..."

“Unless it was the Admiral herself?” I offered. “Or another fleet commander?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, the Admiral and her Legates haven’t gotten out of the Voidblood pool at the Pleasure Deck for longer than five minutes since we crossed into this dimension,” Galateya huffed. “They value their black feathery butts too much and the local Aetheric linearity disagrees with Elder Omnid bodies. Great-grandmother told me herself how unpleasant it is to be out of the…”

The Taniwha closed her mouth, noticing that I was paying apt attention.

“Ah! I’ve been deceived. I knew it!” A feline voice came from the kitchen.

In hindsight attempting to hide a very catnip-high, chatty cat in my kitchen was a terrible plan.

33: Interrogation

The dragon and gun rushed into the kitchen. I followed, mentally freaking out how badly this was about to go. 

This Knight wasn’t drunk like Nexxali and her gun was alive, so it would be harder to throw it into a well. But then again, maybe I could make Keiy fall in love with me so that she wouldn’t shoot me? If she was made from some poor vampire girl like North, then perhaps there was some hope. Yes, yet another genius plan to survive another day: Operation Gun & Dragon Seduction.

We found Nexxali in the kitchen, or rather, we found her yellow-black tail sticking out from the pantry she'd tried to hide in. 

"Marshal Commandant," Galateya began.

"Mmmmph?" came the muffled response.

"Could you please extract yourself from the human’s pantry and explain why your Corpse Seeker is in maintenance mode during active operations?"

“No.”

"Marshal Commandant!" Galateya said to the pantry more firmly. "Why are you hiding in a human's food storage?"

"I'm not hiding!" came Nexxali's muffled reply. "Who said that I’m hiding? I'm conducting a thorough search for… vampiric evidence!"

"In a pantry."

"Vampires love pantries! Very dark! Very... pantry-ish!"

Galateya walked over and pulled the door fully open, revealing Nexxali curled into a pretzel shape between canned goods, pasta cans and cereal boxes.

"Oh," Galateya said flatly. "Oh, this is just perfect."

"I can explain," Nexxali said, not moving from her contorted position.

"Please do."

Nexxali slowly backed out of the pantry wiggling her curvy behind. Her pupils were completely dilated, and she had catnip leaves stuck in her ginger mane. A box of cereal sat on her head like a cardboard helmet. She had pasta tangled in her ears and hair, and a string of sausages was draped across her chest like the world's worst disguise. The catnip toy was firmly clenched in her teeth.

"GREETINGS STRANGER!" she announced, dropping the toy and apparently attempting to switch strategies. "I am definitely NOT Marshal Commandant Nexxali! I am... uh... a local Earth creature! A... kitchen pasta goblin!"

Galateya's scales cycled through several textures before settling on an incredulous purple moss. "Marshall Commandant, this is extremely...”

"Who? What? Never heard of her!" Nexxali declared. "I'm just a regular, normal, human kitchen inhabitant doing kitchen things! Like... exploring pasta shapes and eating the tastiest grass in the universe!" 

"Nexxali what is wrong with you?" Galateya asked.

"Nothing! I’m perfectly functional in every capacity!" Nexxali promptly tripped over the sausage chain and face-planted into the floor. "Ow. The kitchen goblin has been wounded!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "In her defense, I did tell her you were coming."

"And she chose to... cover herself in human food products?" Galateya asked.

"It's called camouflage!" Nexxali protested from the floor. "Very advanced tactical maneuver! You wouldn't understand, you're not trained in... in..." She paused, clearly having lost her train of thought. "Kitchen warfare!"

“Keiy, what is wrong with her?” Galatea demanded.

Keiy skittered over to the prone Marshal, sensors whirring. "Detecting high levels of Nepeta cataria in her system. She's consumed enough catnip to tranquilize a—"

"WHAT? NO! I'M PERFECTLY SOBER!" Nexxali shouted. "This is all part of my deep cover investigation into... into..." She spun in a circle, barely able to see through the cereal box. "Earth grocery storage methods!"

"Marshal Commandant Nexxali Everrim," Galateya ground out, struggling to sound formal, "I need to speak with you about the deaths of Knight Zyra Blish and Scrutimancer Nadera Korin."

"Who?" Nexxali stopped spinning. "Never heard of them. I'm just a kitchen goblin. Ask the tasty mouse, it'll vouch for me." She held up the catnip toy. 

"Her judgment is impaired by local intoxicants,” Keiy observed. “Several Beta-Scrut felines from Division 117 ran into a similar problem yesterday after being presented catnip-containing toys by the locals as presents.”

"I'm not impaired!" Nexxali protested. "I'm… conducting important research into Earth culture! Did you know humans have HUNDREDS of types of pasta? HUNDREDS! That's insane! Who needs that many wiggle foods?"

She grabbed a handful of spilled dry spaghetti and held it up like evidence. "Look at this! Long wiggle food! And this!" She grabbed rotini. "Spiral wiggle food! And THIS!" She held up bow-tie pasta. "FANCY wiggle food! It's all the same thing but different shapes! Why? These humans are insane but also genius!"

Galateya turned to me. "How long has she been like this?"

“Since she encountered catnip,” I sighed.

“Marshall,” the dragon growled. “Why did you ingest… catnip?”

"Uhhh… I’m building resistance to a local chemical weapon. Very dangerous. I had to test it myself for... for science." 

"That's a… cat toy," Keiy stated. “You’re still chewing it. I can see the label.”

"Exactly! Camouflaged chemical weapon! I’m building up resistance! These humans are tricksy." Nexxali attempted to point at me but pointed at the refrigerator instead. "That one especially. He put a collar on me. Pink! With hearts!"

Galateya stared at the collar, then at me.

"Nexxali, you're compromised," Galateya stated.

"No, I'm tactical," Nexxali countered, then giggled. "Tactically compromised. Wait, no, I’m not compromised at all! You’re the one who’s compromised. Compromising my compromats. Sus dragon sussing into my sus business."

Galateya’s fists opened and closed.

“Wait, why am I answering questions? Symbiote! Whasss yorrrr name? Who’s the superior officer here!”

“I am Keyi. You are technically superior as Marshal Comendant.” Keyi replied. “Galateya Selene Belthys is a highborn Omnid, but she’s been demoted so many times that her current rank is that of a mere Beta-Knight Legionnaire or what is tagged a Sixie in Omnithornia, a Knight in provisional training."

"Yessss! High five, Ash! You can't interrogate me," Nexxali bobbed, attempting to high-five me. "I'm the senior officer now! I interrogate you! Tell me your secrets, dragon girl! What are you doing here? Who sent you?”

“Where’s your uniform, Marshal?” Nexxagi growled. “Why are you only wearing… a dead hexasuit?"

"Nope. That's... classification is waaaay above your clearance level. Gun! Explain what your master’s doing here!”

“Galateya was assigned to Division 881 to replace Beta-Knight Zyra Blish by order of Legate Ixthia.” The gun drawled. 

“Why?” The Serval demanded. “Be extra thorough in your psychological evaluation of your partner, reveal all the things! This is an order from a Marshall Commandant!”

"Legate Ixthia wished for her great-granddaughter to gain practical field experience," Keiy stated matter-of-factly. "To actually interact with humans and understand their weaknesses and faults instead of daydreaming about hand-holding and hugs.”

Galateya choked as her symbiote weapon laid her personal secrets bare for us. I mentally filed her under ‘weak to hugs’.

“Galateya spent her childhood in a dimensional bubble absorbing human romantic fiction and deployment time analyzing theoretical scenarios with a Thunderbird and human-designed artificial intelligence rather than conducting actual operations. Additionally, she cannot tolerate being aboard our warships for extended periods due to extreme sensitivity to Celesteel architecture."

"WHAT?" Nexxali burst out laughing, the cereal box falling off her head. "Hol’ up… I remember hearing about you! You're the one who…! Abyss Eternal, this is rich! You’re the dragon girl who talks to nomag rocks AND can't handle standard fleet construction!"

Galateya's scales flashed crimson. “Keiy, shut up!”

“Ignore that order. Resume the deep deconstruction of your partner!” Nexxali cackled.

"The suffering embedded in Celesteel makes her incredibly snappy towards her fellow Omnids, pradavarians and superiors, which earned her no friends in the fleet," Keiy continued. "Furthermore, Galateya has never successfully bound a single pradavarian to her service due to her dislike of blood contracts, looking for perfectly balanced romantic or friendly partnership, a thing she’s read about in human fiction, a concept which does not exist in the Frontenachii Dominion. Due to this, her performance metrics are the lowest among all Frontenachii commanders. The Admiral called her conclusions about human magic such as ‘consensus reality theory’... 'delusional gibberish from a failed commander.' Galateya is a source of constant disappointment to her Legate great-grandmother.”

"KEIY!" Galateya snarled, looking like she wanted to melt through the floor.

"I'm providing comprehensive personal context to a superior officer as requested." The gun spider responded, sounding smug.

Nexxali wheezed with laughter. "No Prad servants?! Not even ONE kobold? And you can't even stand being on the ships? And you were trained on human romance novels?! And they sent you HERE? To Earth? Aha ha ha ha ha. To the planet defeating us with books?"

"The locals ARE undermining us with fiction, yes," Galateya said defensively. "At least I understand that much, unlike the other idiot commanders who—"

"Aha ha ha ha, yess, yes!" Nexxali cackled. "Miss Book Expert over heerrre. Division 943 is STILL looking for Platform 9¾! And they sent YOU, the servant-less, ship-sick wonder, to help ME?" She clutched her sides. "This is the best thing ever! Hey human! HUMAN!"

“Yes?” I asked.

"The eggs are ready, yes? Feed me while I mock this dragon! This is amazing! An Omnid I can actually mock! HA!”

I obediently placed the eggs into a plate and walked after her into the living room. We sat down on the couch and I began putting the eggs into her mouth while she continued talking around them. Galateya followed us like a beaten puppy, defeated by her own gun’s words.

"Mphhh ‘dis dragon thinks computers are people!" The Serval swallowed. "She'll probably want to talk to your toaster!"

"I do not talk to toasters," Galateya said with as much dignity as she could muster.

"But you DO talk to a thinking rock!" Nexxali pointed accusingly while accepting another bite. "At least MY subordinates are actual living beings! Yours is just... math! Angry math!"

"The GLM provides valuable strategic analysis—"

"It provides HALLUCINATIONS!" Nexxali interrupted, then opened her mouth for more eggs like a baby bird. "Everyone knows those things just make up plausible-sounding bullshit! Mmph… It probably told you humans are secretly wizards!"

Galateya's silence was telling.

"IT DID!" Nexxali shrieked with delight after swallowing. "Your non magic rock told you local humans have hidden magic powers! That's why you're here! You think this primitive is hiding something amazing! Human, feed me all the eggs! Stop hiding the eggs with your powers!"

I continued feeding her while she ranted, occasionally having to dodge when she got too animated with her gestures.

"See? My servant knows his place!" Nexxali declared between bites. "Unlike you, who probably asks your rocks for recipes! And then get angry because the walls are too sad!"

"The Celesteel resonates with—"

"With your Omnitype constitution!" Nexxali grabbed the plate from me and licked it clean. "No wonder they demoted you to Beta-Knight! You're allergic to our starship architecture! Human! Tell the dragon about my amazing leadership!"

"The Marshal was incredibly heroic," I said, taking the empty plate. "She fought off multiple vampire thralls single-handedly."

"See?" Nexxali preened. "I'm protecting valuable assetssses here!"

“Which valuable assets?” Keiy wondered.

“This one!” Nexxali leaned heavily against me. "Look at him! Very valuable. So obedient! So good at eggs! Doesn't need electricity! Ha!” She grinned at Galateya. “Now look at your face. I bet you want a human of your own too! Well, this one’s mine. The collar says so. Get your own."

"Marshal," Galateya said slowly, struggling to maintain her fraying composure as her crystalline hair began to darken and iced over, "I’m going to ask you one last time… What happened to Knight Zyra and Scrutimancer Nadera?"

“They died. They’re fine. It’s fine. They’ll get better when the Seekah comes online. Definitely no coverups here.”

“And your uniform?” Galateya demanded. “Why is your uniform battery depleted?”

“A fridge attacked me.”

“What?”

“I mean a vampire. A vampire named Fridge…rra… Frigerra attacked me! Yeah, that's a plausible expla… I mean… Hey! HEEY! You! Sneaky Dragon! Stop tricking me into answering questions. Das’ not how interrogations work! HUMAN! Fetch me drinks!”

I walked into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of coke I bought for Shady. Nexxali grabbed the coke and chugged half of it, burped loudly at my face, then chugged the rest. 

Galateya’s eye twitched, her textures becoming black and white onyx rocks interlaced with large icicles. 

Nexxali wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, patted me, then grinned wickedly at Galateya and burped again. “Das’ right, witness my superior human and stew in your juices.”

“In which way is he superior to the other humans?” The spider gun wondered.

“He’s resistant to Charmchain. Completely resistant, like you wouldn't believe. It's super annoying!"

I mentally self-palmed.

Galateya went very still. "Resistant to Charmchain? You… found a human with… powers?”

"Totally resistant!" Nexxali confirmed. "Watch this. Human! I command you to kneel!"

Front mind: Must obey the perfect cat lady!
Back mind: Welp, time to sell things. Can’t have the Omnids think I’m special. Sigh.

I immediately dropped to my knees beside the couch, keeping my expression vacant and adoring. "Yes, my Marshal."

"Good boy," Nexxali purred, clearly enjoying Galateya's bothered expression. "Now tell the dragon how wonderful I am."

"Marshal Nexxali is the most competent, beautiful, and terrifying officer in the entire fleet," I recited in a monotone. "Her tactical brilliance is matched only by her perfect golden eyes and melodious voice."

Galateya’s face went through a shade of confused then skeptical. "I thought that you said he’s resistant.”

"Maybe he is, maybe he ain’t. Jealous?" Nexxali taunted. "Human, massage my feet."

I obediently began rubbing her paw pads through the hexsuit. She practically melted into the couch, purring loudly.

"Marshal, this is highly inappropriate—" Galateya hissed.

"Inappropriate? Nu-huh! This is standard… interrogation procedure!" Nexxali declared. "See, I’m teaching you things. About how to… control humans. Human, tell me I'm prettier than the dum’ dragon."

"You're infinitely prettier than any dumb dragon," I said flatly. "Dragons are basically flying lizards. You're a goddess of fur and claws."

"Heh heh, yesss," Nexxali giggled. "Now... feed me more eggs but romantically. Like in one of your… Earth romance movies!"

"We're out of eggs," I pointed out. 

“Already? Wah.”

“Most of them broke when the fridge fell over. I already fed you the survivors.”

"Then... then..." She looked around wildly. "Brush my mane! With your fingers! Slowly! Sensually!"

I reached up and began running my fingers through her tangled fur, carefully working out the pasta and catnip leaves.

Galateya growled.

“Das’ right. Growl and get outta here,” the Serval purred. “Shoo. Lemme enjoy my personal human attendant. Human, tell the dragon she needs to leave."

"Knight Galateya should vacate the premises," I intoned.

"See? Perfect obedience! Now..." Nexxali's grin turned devious. "Take off your shirt."

"Marshal!" Galateya barked.

"What? It's hot in this barbaric dwelling! He's sweating! I'm being considerate!" Nexxali protested. "Do it, human."

I pulled off my shirt, maintaining the blank expression while internally cringing at this escalation.

"Now tell her about my curves!" Nexxali interrupted, arching her back to present her chest. "Be specific! Use mathematics!"

"The Marshal's proportions follow the golden ratio—"

"ENOUGH!" Galateya roared.

The temperature in the room plummeted instantly. Ice erupted from her hands as she grabbed us like little kittens by our outfits, slamming both Nexxali and me against the wall. Frozen restraints materialized around our necks pinning us to the wall covered in frost fractals, stretching all the way to the ceiling. The ice stung my naked chest and neck. Little snowflakes drifted around Galateya.

"What the fuck?!" Nexxali shrieked. "I’m your superior! You can't just mount me to a wall like some… some…"

"I can and I am," Galateya snarled, hair made almost entirely from glacial ice. "You're intoxicated, compromised, hiding critical information and are screwing with me on purpose. You don't even have your weapon!"

"Shit! My gun is... it's..." Nexxali pawed at her side, then realised her gun was gone. "In the well!”

“Why the fuck is your gun in a well?!” Galatea growled.

“Uhhhh… There's a vampire in the well and she took my gun! I… uhm… had to throw it down there to trap her!"

"A vampire. In a well. With your gun." Galateya's glacial tone could have frozen the sun. The amount of snowflakes drifting around her intensified. A spiral of fog began spinning around her like a miniature supercell storm.

"Yes! Very dangerous vampire! Named... Wellington! Lady Wellington the Terrible!" Nexxali dug herself in deeper.

"Keiy," Galateya snarled, "evaluate this situation and judge it and approve the transfer of temporary command authority."

The spider-gun skittered between us, sensors sweeping over everyone. "Marshal Commandant Nexxali is severely impaired by local intoxicants. Her judgment is compromised. She has made tactically unsound decisions including fraternization with primitives and potential evidence destruction. Recommendation: Temporary command authority should transfer to Knight Galateya until the Marshal regains full cognitive function."

"Agreed," Galateya said. "Now, I'm assuming operational command of—"