Tevun-Krus #47 - Galactic Empire

Reluctant Rebel - A Short Story by @jinnis

You may say about the Mouwaon whatever you wish, but they brought peace to the Galaxy.

The year Earth got incorporated into their empire, it was still stuck pretty much in the Stone Age of space exploration. Sure, the big mining company inaptly named Happy Moles exploited the Kuiper belt. In consequence. the miners were the lucky—or, depending on individual point of view—unlucky humans to make first contact.

Lucky because a handpicked few got to represent the human species in the imperial council. Unlucky because the Mouwaon made sure of human suitability to be counted as sentient by rather straightforward methods.

Of course, Earth government neither accepted the Mouwaon choice of representatives nor the fact our precious blue marble was swept up into a galactic empire on short notice. But Mouwaon security forces had means to calm down heated discussions. Permanently.

So, after a few weeks of fruitless and mostly verbal diplomatic resistance, Earth ended as world number eighteen thousand three hundred and twenty-seven in the list of conquered planets. Although it's suspected some of them are inhabited only by basic bacteria and amoeba, humans fared little better. We got classified sentient species fifty-seven, level three. On a scale that goes tops at seven this means we stand roughly between the smelly, purple gnomes from Hararak and the ocean-dwelling Hihinic from Sonola prime.

While the former are ugly, stubborn bipeds prone to cannibalism, the later emanate an ethereal beauty. They inspired a veritable fashion boom amongst human teenagers. Thousands of girls drowned in misguided attempts to force a rescue by sexy Hihinic males.

Such behaviour is especially stupid as no mono-sexual Hihinic would consider leaving the ammonium rich seas of its home-world in exchange for the polluted, teenager-hormone-infected waters of Earth.

Anyway, the whole story proves the Mouwaon point of classifying Hihinic on sentience level four while humans only reach three.

But I digress. I wanted to explain why a sophisticated opportunist like myself ended in this current mess.

It started the day I brought my little scout ship back to base on Eris. The Mouwaon dwelt there for three weeks already and most leftovers of their experiments had been cleaned. They'd also removed the future representatives of our species and installed a permanent outpost to control our solar system. The golden dome of their habitat was clearly visible during approach. So I wasn't entirely surprised to find myself escorted by the gnome guard to the resident headmaster of the new order upon arrival.

What came as a real shock was Mouwaon physiognomy. Somehow I'd assumed the scowling dwarves arresting me were the invaders. When they delivered me to their master, I was shocked to find him a pelted person resembling a friendly, rotund, oversized possum, or bush rat. Okay, I'm simplifying. Fur and a long pinkish tail don't make a rat. But this was my first impression, anyway. Soon, I learned Mouwaon tech is so far beyond our own their looks really don't matter.

Later this fatal day, I was called into the central auditorium with hundreds of fellow miners, scouts and traders. The emperor's representative addressed the colony and informed us of our new status as imperial subjects. I got bored by the monotonous reading of the laws governing our future existence and couldn't resist to glance around the room.

On a balcony to the left a group of well groomed Mouwaon nobles observed the assembly. One of them caught my eye. Obviously a female, her sleek, tan pelt gleamed in the light and her whiskers trembled slightly. I winked at her, and one dark, almond-shaped eye winked back. Then I got distracted by an elbow hitting my ribs.