Kocha Kinoko: Captain Arcose! [75% minion] WIP

You cannot see her scouter because she does not have it on. You cannot see her gills because sometimes she shapeshifts them away.

Under a more peaceful administration, the Arcosian Empire had expanded not through the conquering and subjugation of new worlds but through a sort of diplomatic annexation through colonisation. While the Solar Saiyan Empire would go around gallivanting and conquering, the Arcosian Empire believed themselves to be above such things. And they were… at the time.

Feuskry was an esteemed scientist. His work on quantum knots was valued by every scientist, regardless of political affiliation. Yet, eventually, his age had begun to creep up on him. His mind began to falter, slowly, as he lost his usefulness. It was only a matter of time until he was transferred to somewhere where he would more useful.

The idea was simple: ‘go to a colony world, integrate yourself into the culture, give them technology to improve its standard of life, improve its relations with the Empire and, finally, assist in its peaceful annexation’. Yet, even now, as he saw the planet that he would call home for years to come, he knew that it could never be so simple.

---

His welcome to the planet had been noticeably standard. He had been on so many worlds at this point. Although millions— billions— of years had been spent creating a unique, varied and balanced ecosystem, it all seemed the same. The sky could only be so many colours.
His welcome to the planet’s people had been less of a ‘welcome’ and more of a spit in the face. These people valued their independence above their wellbeing, he was told. It was an affront to their culture to even suggest integration. And, with his scientific Imperial apparel, it was obvious that he was here to integrate. Him, to the people. The people, to the Empire.

There was only one habitable part of the planet. It was a continent, taking up a quarter of its surface area. The planet’s only city took up almost its entirety, as even the planet’s denizens could not brave the ‘devil fields’ for long. The word for the city, Scobia, was what they called their continent (imperial designation: Scobia Landmass 1), their solar system (designation: Scobian System), their planet (designated Scobia Two, the second star in the Scobian system) and their people (the Scobians, tonitruis squama).

There were, as there always are, natives who supported the influence. Feuskry could not grasp why their technology and politics weren’t being taking in with open arms, but he had not yet become among their number.

---

He had earned himself a home in the cultural manner. He had made his way into the planetary, continental, species-wide community. He had found, earned, met his eventual wife Gesivii. He had, through technological assistance, managed to have a child (half Scobian, half Kondorian), formed from two radically different species. Still, as much as it was his child, (their child,) its creation (her creation) had rekindled his love for engineering life. He put his own hobbies above his new home. But, he had reasons. This planet will need a protector, he justified, and making protectors was something he could do.

---

He called it ‘Project: RIBONU’, which presumably stood for something long-winded and complicated. Soon, it became known as, simply, Ribonu.

Help came from all around. Empress Wyntre, her Imperial Benevolence, had even granted her own genetic material to help. Help came from imperially-kept beasts, too powerful to be left uncontained. Flowers, animals, soldiers, bacteria; eventually millions of distinct genetic sequences were collated. They were fed into Feuskry’s machine to sort out good and bad bits. It designed an organism, genetically superior… and, while he wouldn’t admit it, his daughter’s genetic material was more present than it probably should have been.

Years passed.
Then, disaster.

Ribonu hadn’t an intelligent mind. The machine was designed not to allow it. It was on standby, having a mind that only kept the body alive. It was meant to have an already-developed mind placed into it: perhaps a soldier, or himself when his body failed him. He couldn’t understand how— but somewhere, sometime, somehow, Ribonu had developed instinct. It had developed enough intelligence to fear death, yet not enough to realise that only through its actions could its death be possible. Its rampage was short-lived, though, as these people were warriors. And, like that, all that Feuskry had worked towards was gone. The people blamed him, as they had the right to, for the rampage. Defeated, he left. He would not return until Ribonu had been fixed and it the cause had been fixed.

His daughter had recently earned her name. It was Kocha, or ‘a rough tuft of feathers’, named after her paternal heritage. Sometimes it looked like her scales and her feathers were competing, fighting both for space and for her. Her wings and her dorsal fin, the signs of maturity in her parents’ cultures, had sprouted on the same day. The day her name changed from ‘Gesiviinu’ (First Daughter of Gesivii), the day she became an adult, the day she became able to do as much as anyone else. Yet, her father was elsewhere.

He was on Arcose. Men, women and blobby life-forms alike shared their craft. He showed the Project to his peers with pride, but that tone soon seeped into sorrow. They began to analyse the organism as their work began immediately.

Up until, of course, it all came crashing down.
The Invasion was unforeseen, unprepared for and uncalled for. The Saiyans had attacked in their traditional style: without warning or reason. Soon enough, warriors and great simian beasts smashed through buildings like sand sculptures. No force could be gathered in time, no resistance could be mounted. Soon, the Empress had been defeated in single combat.

All dead. Empress Wyntre. The civilians. The scientists. The project. All dead.
Scobia had learnt of what happened quickly. ‘Our oppressors are gone!’ said some. ‘Our friends have been murdered!’ said others. ‘We’ve lost a citizen!’ said others still. But Kocha would not— could not— believe it. Feuskry couldn’t be dead if Ribonu was there to protect him, she said. Perhaps it was just a form of denial.

She went to the Shrine to pray and wish. Let my father be alive, she prayed. Let him return victorious. Let him go home.

It had nothing to do with her praying, nothing to do with her wish, nothing to do with her at all, but Arcose soon returned. She didn’t know that it wasn’t her, but her knowing that wasn’t important. The Empress’ associates from earth had worked their magic and had undone the damage to Arcose. But, of course, from her eyes, it seemed that it was her wish that came true. And, in a way, it had.

They found their way back to Scobia soon, where their return was celebrated like Feuskry had never seen before. They had defended against SSE invading parties successfully and drove them off with only minimal casualties. Much to his surprise, his daughter had been one of those who fought. Moreso, his daughter was a natural warrior. Perhaps it was a by-product of the unique yet not antagonistic instincts of the cathartine Kondorian mind and the piscine Scobian mind merging. Regardless, it was notable. Intriguing, even.

And then there was peace.
Until there was not.

The Mazoku Dominion was new to this whole ‘interstellar empire’ concept. While the Saiyans had taken an unexpected benevolent twist under new leadership, the Dominion was quick to fill the ‘not very nice people’ niche. They took planets wherever they could find them, preying on the weak and undefended. While small, they were growing rapidly.

Soon, their gaze settled on Scobia.
Scobia more accepting of AE-influence now than ever before. They gave their thanks that they were not an SSE colony (a colloquial term for a razed planet) instead. And yet, even still, there were those who resisted, those who asked such questions as ‘is to give up our independence to give up our culture?’, ‘without our culture, will our ancestors cease to exist?’ and ‘if our ancestors ceased to exist, shall we not follow soon behind?’, questions that they insisted ‘yes’ was the answer to.

But the invasion came hard and fast. With the Arcosian Empire recovering from being leaderless for a few months, the Mazoku Dominion took advantage of their weakness. It happened only quickly; the brunt of the damage happened before they even knew that they were being invaded. Aliens and demons alike tumbled through the streets. Buildings crumbled, steel was bent with hands. Screams, smoke, fire. Death, suffering. Calls for help were answered with other calls for help. Corpses riddled the floor. Resistance was met with brute force. And yet, the invaders cackled in delight. For the demons, it was their nature, but why the others?

Feuskry took his wife and daughter to his subterranean laboratory, hoping that they wouldn’t be found. The AE’s new administration, apparently, did not want to protect a planet that wasn’t technically theirs. He suspected that he hadn’t been recalled yet out of gross negligence. But, still, he was thankful that he could stay in his new home… even if he’d die here, too.

A particularly close grunt of amusement was heard. Thump. Thump. A gaping hole was made through the ceiling, through which a white-maned demon came through. Feuskry tried to take his wife and daughter and retreat further into the compound, but Gesivii stayed. ‘I have been born a warrior, raised a warrior. I don’t know about your Empire, but here, neither parenthood nor death can unmake a warrior’, she insisted. Despite resistance, the now-armed Gesivii would stay to buy them some time. Time for what, no one knew.

They went further in and locked themselves into the most secure place on the planet, Ribonu’s containment facility. But soon following came the demon, blood dripping from its blade. Driven by instincts, Kocha struck it down, but did not relent. Blow after blow, her rage was made manifest. Yet, it soon caught her fist. It struck back with greater power. It had forsaken its blade, now, for its sharp claws, something she was not thankful for. Feuskry, knocked out of his shock, grabbed a flask from a nearby desk and (without bothering to check what it was) threw it at the demon’s mane. It burst into green flames, causing an immediate reaction and sending it to try to douse the flame with something less dangerous.

He scrambled over to his daughter and held her in his arms. ‘I’m fine,’ she lied. She’d been brought to an odd-looking desk; he’d never normally do this. She was his daughter, after all. Her mind was suitable, yes, but in no other circumstances would this be reasonable. Her body was feeble, civilian-like. Her mind was strong. There was only ever one solution. As the demon’s roar gave the indication that he had recovered, Kocha had given her thumbs up. He’d lost a wife and he sure as hell won’t lose a daughter.

With the press of a button, the straps tightened and the machines got to work. With but another button, the process begun. Painlessly, with no indication of completion, it had worked. A powerful mind belongs in a powerful body, after all.

The demon hadn’t expected it, but one of the odd-looking artificial bodies had sprung to life, kicking it in the jaw. This was Kocha, Gesiviinu, Ribonu. While the demon could not know it, he had killed its mother. Her mother. The planet was angry. She was angry.

She had stopped the invasion singlehandedly that day. The Mazoku Dominion, not bothering to capture a planet that was too far away anyway, hadn’t returned. Scobia declared its independence (from what wasn’t clear), a whisper among shouts in the galactic community. Feuskry, distrusting of the Empire’s current administration, had stayed. Kocha, having had heard rumours of Wyntre’s presence on Earth, headed there; she would attempt to reinstate her upon the throne, for the good of the galaxy.

And, once again, Scobia found itself shrouded in silence.