The Hierarchy of Now and Forever Ch. 05

"Awww, does the little orcy-worky wanna get by us?" Captain Starchaesr sneered.

"Orcy-worky?" John asked, taken aback by such a Terran reference. Starchaser snorted, then flipped her paw dismissively.

"Never you mind, Kruul. Now...I will let you through without atomizing your little ship. But only if you pay us," she said, grinning fiercely. "How does that sound?"

"Shit," Eugene murmured, his voice soft enough to not be picked up.

"Will you take resources?" John growled. "We can spare some iron. Maybe copper."

"Copper!? Iron!" Captain Starchaser huffed. "Now you are trying to be insulting, orcy-worky. No! We demand Totality credits, slaves, or service. Or else..." She flicked her finger. Sheyshan, her eyes locked onto her sensors, frowned and turned to John.

"Sir, they're warming up their Cats Cradle emitters!"

John rubbed his hand along his chin - wondering how the program that converted him from Terran to a Kruul in the projection that the Paw were getting translated the gesture. His eyes narrowed as he considered, weighing the options...but that orcy-worky reference. He narrowed his eyes slowly, then growled. "You served in that pathetic Alliance, didn't you?"

"What of it?" the older feline female said, sniffing loudly. "We took the Oath, same as you. The Zemturga have said as much. In fact, I'm pretty su-rrrrrr-e..." She purred, leaning forward, her cat-green eyes flashing. "That they've repeatedly told the Maliceocracy to respect our Oath, and we've had to back that up with our own claws and teeth."

"With ships, maybe," John said, thinking quickly. "But you never wish to face us, paw to fist."

"You think I would turn down a chance to gut a Kruul?" Captain Starchaser hissed.

"I do," John said, grinning.

"Captain?" Eugene whispered. John lifted his hand to quell him.

"Gunnery Officer," Captain Starchaser said, turning in her seat. "Prepare-"

"You are a coward!" John stood from his chair as he undid his straps, thrusting his finger dramatically at the cougarish commander. "You fear to face me in combat, face to face, where I can feel your bones splinter!"

Captain Starchaser hissed, then narrowed her eyes. Then she laughed, throwing back her head. "Fine. You wish to have me peel your skin from your bones? Very well!" She stood from her seat, her bridge camera tracking her motion. "Where do we meet in the field of battle?"

"Your ship," John said, his voice full of arrogant confidence. "Unless you think you can only win by stabbing me in the back?"

Captain Starchaser snorted, tossed her head, then slashed her hand across her throat. The screen cut off.

"Captain, what are you thinking?" Eugene asked.

"She referred to me as an orc," John said, smirking slightly. "Anyone else remember their English class?"

"I remember Delta flunking it," Triana said. Then she sat up. "Wait, you're right! Orc is a Terran reference - she had to have served closely with the UNN. Maybe even on one of our ships to pick that up. We did work with the Yip-Paw-Lop a lot on the Kruul/Swiffo front - there was a lot of officer sharing. So, wait, you think you can turn her to our side?"

"Why not?" John asked. "Pixie can make me look like a Kruul."

"Actually, I'm going to make you a Kruul!" Pixie said, brightly. John looked at her, his brow furrowing in confusion. She smiled and explained. "It's easier to maintain one psychic power than two. To make you a Kruul with just mind trickery means I have to do a telepathic effect and technopathic effect, or else everyone with cameras will just see you as a human. But if I use biokinesis to give you big fat flat Kruul dick and some heavy, green Kruul balls, then boom! You'll be totally Kruul, even when you're raw dogging the kitty on her command chair."

"I'm not-" John started, then shook his head. "Right. Anyway. I can seem like a Kruul, get aboard the ship, then talk to her when we're face to face. No chances for any younger officers, who are all too used to being Battle-Thralls, to get upset about turning against their masters. For all we know, any Paw born after the surrender likes being Battle-Thralls. The Zemturga aren't above using carrots. Or genetic tinkering." He made a face, thinking of the Kruul themselves. Had they once had poetry and art and compassion, like any other race, before the Zemturga had sculpted them into their perfect janissaries? He wondered...would it be possible to reverse that damage? He hoped so - the idea of having to fight every last Kruul, from the oldest gentrocrat to the youngest child, made his stomach turn. He hadn't joined the UNN to commit genocide, he had joined it to prevent genocides.

The approaching frigates - identified by Shey as Waa-7, Waa-9 and Waa-14 - came in closer around the Exaclibur. The Waa-7 extended a paw-like appendage from the center of its bristling body, slapping magnetic pads around the airlock on the inner side of the Excalibur's central spine. This close to the ship, John could see just how much smaller the three frigates were - but he knew that they actually might have a serious edge. The Excalibur, despite the best efforts of his crew, was still mostly Luciferian hull plating and empty space, bereft of the internal components that would make it punch as hard as it could.

He stood alone in the airlock, with Pixie pressing her psychic palms against his back. He stood alone and naked, too. This change was physical, not merely illusion. He groaned as he felt it starting to hit him...and there was almost the same level of raw pleasure as he had felt in his imagination. His cock hardened as it grew thicker, longer, greener. He felt his jaw aching as it stretched and bent outwards to keep room for his protruding tusks. His hair grew and shifted along his back, becoming thicker and curlier, while his ears narrowed to fine points. His skin turned brilliant emerald green, and thick tufts of black fur grew from his chest, his shoulders, along his back. A tiny, vestigial piggy tail grew from above his ass as he completed the transformation into a Kruul. Pixie stepped back, panting heavily.

"Damn I'm good," she whispered.

Looking at himself in the reflection of the airlock door, he to admit, she had crafted him into a very attractive Kruul, with a wild, feral beauty to his features, tusks and nose. He rubbed his hand along his jaw, while Pixie hurried over with the fabricated Kruul uniform and combat knife. John strapped the knife to his hip, adjusted the loincloth, and stood with arrogant confidence as Pixie, taking advantage of the fact the Paw didn't have access to security cameras in the airlock, populated it with illusions of other Kruul officers.

The airlock chimed and John touched the activation key.

The doors opened...and he found himself facing a fierce looking Captain Starchaser, wearing her thong, bikini, and paws. However, she held in her hand an old but sturdy looking UNN issue lasarm: the barrel aimed directly at his chest. Behind her were half a dozen armored Paw, their skintight spacesuits clinging to their bodies, their helmets having their ears built into their curved shapes, their tiger stripes painted onto the armor plating protecting their arms and chests. They carried more modern looking Paw weapons - their classic Needler rifles, with claw bayonets, all aimed at John and his illusory officers.

"Do you think I can't tell an Cataphract's bridge from some Kruul shit? I served on Cataphract class assault carrier for five years!" Captain Starchaser snarled, fiercely. "No matter what you cover it with - this is a Terran ship. And that means either you have Terran slaves aboard - or you killed the crew."

She lifted her pistol and aimed it directly at John's head.

"And if you killed the crew...then you die!"

TO BE CONTINUED