The spat between Psstips and Shraphen was almost one and a half centuries old. The differences between both races, like their polar opposite body language or their disputes about viable colony worlds, were only intensified by the Batract.
In fact, since both races became spacefaring through Batract intervention, directly or indirectly, it is questionable if they would even have had differences without Batract interference.
The general disdain between their races was strong enough that the Shraphen didn't even mention the Psstips' existence to the humans.
— Excerpt from How the Batract Enslaved Hundreds of Species, or How to Build an Empire on Hate.
"A crew of frog people and a catgirl? Together with a human boy? Am I in a new interpretation of some Brothers Grimm tale?"
Admiral Sanders couldn't help but laugh at the report from the intercept group.
"Zeus, what do we know about them?"
'The catgirl is a so-called Psstips. They inhabit a system twenty-seven odd light-years away from here. Aligned Planets designation: Zeta Tucanae.' Zeus answered; he had scanned every galactic data source the Shraphen had provided.
'The frog people, as you called them, are called Groacs. Sadly, neither the Shraphen nor the Nuk have any additional information about them. Only their name, and that they are the only known amphibian species this side of Federation space.'
Sanders rubbed her temples.
She knew there were hundreds of species out there, probably millions, but frogs and catgirls? Really?
She couldn't help but shake her head.
"Catgirls, with almost human faces, even goddamn hair on top of their fur, and giant—"
'Mammary glands is the correct biological term. Yes. Nature is odd that way.' Zeus tried to interrupt the admiral.
"Tits, Zeus, they are called tits. Don't try to censor me in my own office."
She checked the pictures taken by the boarding team again. The captain was, if you squinted your eyes a bit, a one-and-a-half-meter-tall, upright-walking tree frog, complete with red eyes and four thick, round fingers on each hand.
"Frogmen, with an inverted wetsuit. God, I love my job sometimes."
'Yes, Admiral, but I would caution you to curb your… enthusiasm about different species. For some races, we're nothing but naked apes. Never forget that.' Zeus was a perfect voice of reason.
"Thanks, Zeus, I'll try." Then she checked the file on the Psstips. "So, the Shraphen had contact with them?"
'Yes, Admiral, and more than one border conflict. Their diplomatic endeavors never amounted to more than one side accusing the other of treachery and aggression. Their last border conflict…'
Zeus stopped himself when he noticed the admiral laughing and holding her stomach.
Sanders wiped a tear from her eye. "Cats and dogs. God, are we going to check every sci-fi trope?"
'Yes, Admiral. Though the bigger picture is that we know very little about their system — no Shraphen or Nuk has ever set foot on Nekoo, their home planet.'
Sanders' laughter was audible in the OPS even through the noise-canceling doors of her office.
————
Mikkra stared at the giant station in Burrow's orbit. The thought that this infrastructure had been built by humans in less than a year was astonishing and frightening. They had passed dozens of stations on their way to the Shraphen's home planet.
The human traffic controller had reserved a dock for them at one of the outer spacedocks. Chokrata was ecstatic that the humans had explained they would repair and refuel their ship for free.
All crewmembers were glued to the different windows, ogling the blade-like human warships with their shimmering grey hulls. They were impressive, Mikkra had to confess, but were they truly as powerful as the spies had reported?
The Empress's spies in the Hrun Confederacy had reported that these ships had almost completely wiped out a rogue Hrun mercenary squadron. How was still debated.
Other spies in the Nuk government had reported that the Nuk revered the human ships as true warriors with the soul of a Nuk Blademaster.
Mikkra had to smile at that description. But it was high praise coming from the Nuk. To impress them in warfighting, one must be extremely capable.
She tried not to stare at the planet below them. Burrow. Burned to a dead rock, as it was now. She remembered — just a bit over a year ago, when she was here the last time, under a different name, with a different mission. It had been a reasonably enjoyable green planet, sadly populated with Shraphen.
So it was true — something had burned the whole planet to ashes. And without these humans, no Shraphen would have survived.
The bigger question for her was how to approach the humans without being too open. The Empress herself had ordered her to find the humans and ask for help. And if the Empress of the Great Nekoorian Republic asks, one can rarely say no without waking up dead the next morning.
The order was quite simple: find a way to reach Burrow, find the humans, and see if they could be of value to the Republic.
Attached were all the files the Imperial Republican Spymasters had collected about the humans. It wasn't much. Two things were obvious. They were a young species and dangerously clever. They seemed to have even cracked the one technology no one had cracked before them — paired particle transmission.
No one except the Psstips, of course. But while the Emperor had hidden the technology in his infinite wisdom and only allowed its use in specific cases, the humans used it quite openly.
And they looked like naked apes. She could hardly hide her surprise when she met Chokrata and the stinking Groac had a human as a guard.
Sadly, the human didn't even know his own species' name. He was a slave, second or third generation, and almost useless for her mission. But she enjoyed him. They were… compatible. And she now had an ally on board.
The ship had finally reached its docking position, and she couldn't wait to leave and meet the humans.
The docking clamps fixed the ship safely in position, and Mikkra could hear a loud metallic clank when the docking port attached itself to the ship's airlock.
Luckily, she had been able to convince Chokrata that she should be part of the landing party. So she hopped down the ladder from the pilot's capsule to the crew compartment and made her way to the airlock. Together with Nacket and Chokrata, they would meet this mysterious species that had seemingly jumped out of nowhere over the last year or so.
In the airlock, she couldn't resist cleaning her fur. Licking her hands always relaxed her. They were not allowed any weapons — obviously, the humans didn't trust them at all.
Next to her stood Chokrata in his bubbling environmental suit. Groacs needed to take special care to keep their skin wet. Sadly for Mikkra, they smelled like a rotting marshland. Just like their whole home planet.
And then there was Nacket. He wore simple trousers and a ripped shirt — still the best clothes he had. She turned to him and pushed a strand of hair out of his face with a careful swipe of her hand.
His smile made her feel… odd. The young man had been beside himself when he saw the human ships and learned they were commanded by his people. The thought of meeting others of his race had filled him with joy and dread. And now he smelled of pure stress.
She had already decided that she would leave the smugglers here. If her mission were a success, the humans would make contact with the Great Nekoorian Republic, and she would be able to secure passage home. If not, she was safer here than anywhere the Empress's assassins could reach her. The Empress and the Emperor do not accept failure.
Now she just had to convince Nacket to stay.
"Let me take care of the negotiations," Chokrata uttered while he licked his eye with his tongue. Mikkra had to hide her disgust, like every time he did this.
The airlock finally finished cycling, and they entered the docking bridge. To her surprise, the tunnel had gravity plating, and the gravity was surprisingly high.
At least 1.2 Nekoo standard gravs, and at least twice the gravity on Chokrata's ship. The thin-legged smuggler almost lost his balance.
Then the gravity was lowered until they could move comfortably. A voice from a hidden speaker spoke in perfect Batract.
'Please excuse the high gravity. We assumed wrongly that this setting would be comfortable for you as well, since all species we have met until now were used to a similar setting. My name is Zeus, and I will serve as translator and provide additional information if needed.'
Mikkra could immediately hear the telltale signs of an artificial voice. No biological being spoke like that. Either it was some program or the output of a translator computer.
Chokrata said nothing — the gravity shock had unsettled him, and his species was easy to rattle.
Nacket just stared at the massive white station in front of them. Mikkra assumed more than fifty thousand people could easily live in such a behemoth.
Not bad for such a young race.
'Please enter the airlock. You will be scanned for hidden weapons. We will also take a biological profile to ensure your safety aboard Station Burrow One. This will only take a minute.'
Not very trusting, those humans. Hmm.
A door in front of them opened at the end of the tunnel, and Mikkra was relieved that the humans obviously preferred to light their rooms more brightly than the dim lighting the Groacs had on their ships.
As they entered, Chokrata complained as expected. "Too bright, too yellow."
As if the smuggler were incapable of doing it himself, Mikkra grabbed his goggles from his suit and pressed them into his slimy hands.
"Then wear your stupid goggles. Do you think they lower the light in the whole station for you?"
"Well, I am the guest of honor and an important business partner."
Mikkra had to force her claws back into her fingers while she flicked her ear in annoyance.
She couldn't wait to leave the smuggler behind. Ever since they had learned there were no Shraphen here to buy the ship's cargo of weapons, Chokrata had been insufferable.
The station's airlock whirred, and Mikkra noticed a slight static charge in her fur, indicating a high-energy scan. The lights in the white, shadowless room dimmed for a second, and she could swear that for a fraction of a second an extremely intense UV flash lit the room.
Sterilization?
Then the opposite door opened, and soldiers in almost entirely black full-body armor stood there, posted on either side of the door. One was clearly human in form; the other seemed to be Shraphen, with retrograde feet, an armored tail, and a clearly Shraphen-formed helmet.
Had the humans integrated the Shraphen as a vassal state? Were they so powerful?
They carried weapons that reminded Mikkra of the historical slugthrowers her people had used half a millennium ago.
The room they had entered was large. A few steps from the door stood unarmored humans in dark blue uniforms. The human at their center was obviously their leader. Mikkra guessed she was female, with her blonde hair and noticeable breasts.
Were humans a matriarchal species? Like some of the ape species on Nekoo.
The idea of talking to apes surprised her again. Life in the universe was truly odd. Intelligent apes. But then again, it had only been a few hours since she'd had sex with Nacket, who was also human, and thus an ape.
Better not think about it too much.
Mikkra focused back on the female in the group as they walked over to meet them. Nacket had his eyes fixed on her too. That stung Mikkra a little — would she become uninteresting to him, now that he was suddenly among his own people?
Well, of course, he will. They are his people. And that's good for him — he couldn't follow her back to Nekoo anyway.
The blonde-haired female had sharp blue eyes. Frighteningly intelligent eyes. The female's gaze reminded Mikkra of the Empress, back when Mikkra had earned her first Platinum Claw — the Imperial Republican sign of honor, marking her as one of the Republic's hands.
The female made energetic strides forward. Mikkra was right — this was the humans' leader here.
She stepped toward Chokrata. "Welcome to Burrow One. I am Admiral Sanders, Commander of the human forces here."
Mikkra had to force her tail from whipping in annoyance when Chokrata answered in his typically self-important manner.
"And I am the great Captain Chokrata, trade ambassador of the Groac Trading Regime, and seller of the finest weapons in the whole Federation."
Mikkra observed the human female closely. Their faces gave away far too much, and Mikkra could swear she saw the human's smile freeze in place while the smuggler lied his ass off.
Well, not everything was a lie. Each trader and even each smuggler was by definition a trade ambassador of the Groac Trading Regime. Only the Groac Trading Regime was such an insignificant power on the outer border of the Batract influence sphere that not even the Batract had bothered to integrate them.
They had simply occupied their solar system and left the Groacs to their own devices. Mikkra had lived on their wet and humid home planet for three horrible months. Her usually orange fur had turned green from all the algae that had grown in it.
To say she hated that swamp was an understatement.
Sanders' expression changed. She now had a predatory smile on her face. "Trade? Oh yes, wonderful. Our logistics specialist and master of trade, Commodore Garcia, will immediately begin negotiations with you, while I escort your esteemed colleagues to a waiting area."
With those words, the admiral glanced back at another human — a male. His face showed clearly how much he disliked the idea. Mikkra had to hide a smile. She was beginning to like this Sanders woman.
"I — I don't know. Nacket is my bodyguard and—" Chokrata naturally had his reservations about being left alone with the dangerously imposing male human, who was almost twice his size.
"Bodyguard? You're among friends here. And we want to learn so much about how interstellar trade works, and what fascinating items and weapons we can buy. Humans love trading." The admiral practically sang the last words.
Fascinating. With just two sentences, the female had seen completely through Chokrata.
Not only capable in military warfare, but also in diplomacy — and probably spycraft.
The Great Nekoorian Republic might have just found the right ally. Might.
The smuggler next to her licked both his eyeballs in quick succession. Fear fought with greed, and Mikkra knew greed would win.
"Yes, trade, very important, let's go, Mister Commodore." Mikkra whipped her tail in amusement when she saw Chokrata rub his greedy hands, incapable of ignoring the chance to make a profit.
Nacket had stared at Sanders throughout the discussion. It was clear that all of this was too much for him. Now seeing his sort of father figure walk away seemed to distress him even more.
Mikkra quietly took his hand. The galactic signal for You're not alone. I'm with you!
Sanders had given her the best chance to fulfill both her missions.
Yes — two. Bring Nacket to his people, and find the humans.
The waddling Groac wasn't ten meters away when Sanders turned around and looked at Mikkra and Nacket.
"And what about you two? What are we going to do with you?" Her smile was warm and mostly directed toward Nacket.
Mikkra cleared her throat.
"We think Nacket is human. Well, I'm almost certain he is. Can you help him?"
Sanders' smile grew larger. Mikkra was now almost sure the female was testing her.
And did she just stare at my chest?
Nacket was still awestruck. No wonder — the poor man had lived his whole life in slums or aboard a Groac smuggler vessel.
He even flinched when the Admiral softly touched his shoulder and said:
"Let's start at the infirmary. Get you checked out and then get something to eat. Okay? Garcia and your… Captain will be negotiating all day. I'm sure of it."
"Yes — yes, that sounds good. The food, I mean." Nacket's first words on the station.
Mikkra decided to carefully gather intel.
While they walked through a hallway toward the infirmary together with a few soldiers, Mikkra took her first chance.
"Admiral, what happened to Burrow? And when? We've been here a little over two years, and back then it was green."
Sanders came closer to Mikkra, stepping between her and Nacket, who was sharing something called a chocolate bar with one of their accompanying soldiers.
"No, you're not. You weren't even on that ship seven months ago. And with all your implanted cybernetics, I'm fairly certain you are not a normal smuggler pilot." The admiral whispered in her ear as they walked.
"We scanned the ship's logs and your personal devices on your way through the system. You're not who you say you are."
From behind her, Mikkra could hear a soldier loading his weapon — making her ears flinch involuntarily.
They were wickedly smart. And dangerous.
With a glance toward Nacket, she noticed a female soldier guiding him away from Mikkra, his protests audible over the corridor noise.
"Let me go — Mikkra is my friend."
She caught his eye and gave a small nod.
"Go with them. We'll meet later. Everything is fine."
Nacket didn't fully believe her — she could tell — but he let himself be led away, casting one last look back over his shoulder.
Poor thing. His entire life, everything had been chosen for him.
Then she focused back on the admiral's face. She was surprised by how young she looked for someone in such a high position.
In the Great Nekoorian Republic, women in positions like this were either incredibly competent or had slept their way up the ranks — ruthlessly removing every obstacle they couldn't. If either was true of Sanders, she was dangerous.
She decided to play with open cards. Her mission was largely diplomatic, so being upfront wouldn't hurt.
"We need to talk. What is happening to Burrow is happening on other planets, too. Colonies go dark. Whole systems disappear. And the Batract seem to be retreating on every front."
Mikkra could see the admiral stop to think through everything she had just heard.
So she was a competent one. Good.
With a single gesture from Sanders' hand, the soldiers around them lowered their weapons.
Sanders' blue eyes settled on Mikkra as the admiral came to a decision.
"Tell me everything."