Disclaimer: I do not own She-Ra or its related characters. All is the property of Noelle Stevenson, Dream Works Animation, Netflix, NBCUniversal Television Distribution, Filmation, Larry DiTillo, and J. Michael Straczynski.
Inconvenient Arrangements
Chapter Thirteen: Face In the Background
The air inside the Nordor was base stale and carried the distinct smell of spent blaster packs and the mild tang of fresh blood mixed with voided bowels that was the hallmark of a battle field. Entrapta could not smell it on account of her mask, but Hec-Tor did. He placed a hand over his mouth and nasal cavity. He did not enjoy the stink of a battle.
There was not enough space in the narrow corridor for the clones accompanying them to fan out and form a perimeter around their royal charges. Instead, they closed in together in a tight circle around the Prince and Princess, weapons up and poised to blast anything that came near them.
"What do you need?" Hec-Tor asked.
"Any terminal that connects to the base's mainframe." Entrapta told him. "It doesn't have to be an actual command console, just so long as it's on the same network. A service, or maintenance terminal would be ideal since they already have backdoors in place to run diagnoses on systems."
Hec-Tor nodded. Peering between the clones he glanced up and down the corridor. There were no terminals within his immediate view. Lifting his hand, Hec-Tor made a forward motion, and the clones began to move in formation. Making sure they kept the royal pair in their center.
Entrapta got excited and tried to run ahead the moment she saw a computer terminal jutting out from the wall.
Using her hair, she vaulted over the wall of clones that was their guard. Hec-Tor tried to reach out to grab her arm before she could leave the safety of the formation, but she was too fast and he was too slow. His hand closed around empty air.
She got to the terminal, just as a patrolling mutant came around the corner.
They froze upon seeing Entrapta and another squad of clones had materialized in the corridor.
Entrapta did not seem the least bit perturbed. She smiled at the patrolling mutant from behind her mask and offered them a cheerful sounding, "Hi." Before going to work at the terminal. Typing with her hair while her gloved hands scratched at her face where the airtight seal formed over her skin.
The mutant raised a communicator to their mouth. "There's more Horde in the lower aft corridor!"
"Kill them!" Hec-Tor commanded his clones, breaking into a sprint to close the space between himself and Entrapta. She was too far from the protection of the clone units, and too close to the enemy soldier. "Protect the Princess!"
Wordlessly, the clones moved to follow his orders. With half the group breaking off to encircle Entrapta, while the other half gunned down the lone mutant patroller.
Entrapta, for her part, seemed almost not to notice the motion and activity around her. Not even when the dead body of the mutant fell very close to her feet. She was focused on her task and could not let silly things like a dead body distract her.
Hec-Tor flattened his back against the wall next to her, his arm canon raised, and glanced up and down the corridor.
"You two-" he pointed to the two clone units he meant "-guard the corner. Make sure no more mutants surprise us."
Wordlessly, the two units took up guard positions at either side of the T-intersection the mutant patroller had come from.
Turning his attention back to the Entrapta, Hec-Tor glanced at the terminal screen. All the lines of code meant nothing to him. They were as incomprehensible as Keldor's magic books had been. Hec-Tor turned his attention to the woman typing instead. "How long until you are done?"
"Sh~hh." Entrapta soothed him. "You can't rush these things. You gotta take time to get to know the computer… and her systems. Ease in slowly… Figure out what makes her tick. Then, once you're in, you can start stirring up her insides…"
Hec-Tor blinked at her. It was impossible for him to read her expression with the mask on, and he didn't know if she was trying to joke with him or not. Now was not exactly the time for jokes. But it also wasn't the time for serious innuendo either.
The keys of the outdated terminal clacked as her hair danced over them. More lines of code scrolled across the screen. Hec-Tor hoped it was making sense to her.
Coming from the opposite end of the corridor, more mutants came running up, weapons in hands (or equivalent appendage). The patroller had managed to get a report out before the clone units killed them, and it looked like the mutants' response time was fast.
Leveling his arm canon and taking aim down the center of the group, Hec-Tor shot at what he assumed was the leader.
The beam streaked down the corridor. Illuminating the narrow space with red light, brighter than most planet's suns. It obliterated half the mutant forces, but the leader he was aiming at ducked and weaved to the side, just barely managing to avoid the blast. The worst injury she sustained was some singed and burn ends of hair.
Hec-Tor swore in Garish.
Clone units moved, placing themselves between the Prince and the attacking mutants.
With a short-staff in one hand, the mutant leader swung at the nearest clone trooper. It's skull caved in on impact and the clone fell to the ground. With her other arm, she swung a whip. The long lash arching over the wall of clones between her and the Prince and wrapping itself around Hec-Tor's cannon. She jercked the whip hard, nearly pulling the Prince off his feet.
Hec-Tor caught himself, one hand going to the wall for balance. He tried freeing himself by shooting at her again.
The mutant woman did drop the whip, releasing him. But only because she jumped out of the way again to avoid the blast.
Disentangling the whip from his weapon, Hec-Tor took his eyes off his enemy just long enough to chance a glance back at Entrapta. She was still typing away with her hair. "How much longer?"
"Got it!" Entrapta called back, happily. As if she were having a grand ol' time and wasn't surrounded by soldiers and rebels, locking in a heated battle for survival.
Hec-Tor looked back at the mutant woman, expecting her to drop instantly.
"It did not work!" He snarled.
"No, it did." Entrapta assured him. She picked up one of the fallen mutant's weapons with her hair, and lifted it to her mast to examine with interest. "Ooh… nice adaptations for non-standard grips…" She looked back up at Hec-Tor when he growled, low in the back of his throat. "Oh. Right, you don't know what I did. I turned off the oxygen recyclers, so there's no new oxygen being pumped through the base. As soon as we use up what's already in their air, everyone who's not a space bat, or wearing a breathing mask will start to feel the effects."
He blinked down at her, realizing how stupid he was. Of course, the results wouldn't show immediately. That wasn't how respiratory strategies worked. Hec-Tor looked back to where his clones had placed themselves between him and the enemy.
She did look like she was slowing down a bit. Not enough to make a difference yet, she was too competent a warrior for that. But she was breathing harder, her movements just a little delayed. Just enough to be noticed.
The sensors in his armor beeped an alert. Oxygen levels were dropping. Not enough to cause any harm to him, he did not need oxygen as much as other species. But the drop was rapid enough for the sensor settings to give an alert.
Hec-Tor could see it more now. The mutant commander was breathing hard, taking deep, gulping breaths, to try and fill her lungs with the oxygen she was not getting. Her shoulders were slumping, and she seemed to be having trouble raising her weapons. She tried to swing her short staff at the nearest clone unit.
But the motion was too slow and the clone grabbed the weapon and pulled. Pulling her off her feet as it did so.
The mutant stumbled, almost falling into the clone. But the unit landed a hard, closed fist punch to her middle mass, and she spat, staggering backwards and gasping for breath. The clone raised it's weapon, ready to finish her off.
"I want her alive." Hec-Tor commanded before the clone unit could deal the killing blow.
If she was one of the mutant leaders, then Hec-Tor would want her alive to interrogate later.
He tapped his communicator. "Status report?"
"Clone units signaling all clear across the base." Callix's voice came back. "They've isolated three other mutant leaders and are holding them for your questioning, Your Highness. All other hostiles have been neutralized. Nordor is ours again."
In the background of the comm, Hec-Tor heard a few enthusiastic "Yeah!" from the enlisted members of the bridge crew. The clone units surrounding him and Entrapta made no such celebratory noises.
Hec-Tor looked down at Entrapta –whom was now examining the mutant woman's whip- he could not have taken the Nordor base so easily if it weren't for her plan or her technical skills. She might not be as attentive or affectionate as Keldor had been, but she was still a surprisingly good partner for him. In her own way.
…
The four mutant leaders captured alive were Flogg, Optikk, Slush Head, and Crita. All of them unconscious from lack of oxygen. The prisoners were placed in Monstron's brig to await interrogation.
Hec-Tor took out an anti-septic wipe and wiped down the throne before he sat down. It felt good to be in control of the base.
Entrapta bounced around the throne room, examining everything she saw with wonder. She had never been given such freedom to examine and explore military tech before. She found everything absolutely fascinating. Every screen, readout, and console seemed to be of keen interest to her.
Hec-Tor was reclining on the throne, drafting up a report to send to his Brother on the successful strikes on both Krytis and Nordor when he heard Entrapta make a wordless exclamation of excitement. He looked up at her.
Without him even needing to ask, Entrapta explained, "I'm in their old security feeds." She typed a few lines of code into the terminal and every screen in the throne room was filled with a different scene from someone on the Nordor, base. Each one with a time stamp announcing the Imperial date on which the reel was taken. "Look at all the interesting adaptations for their different mutations! This base was an Imperial soace station and so was designed for Horde military use, and these mutants have augmented so much of it to better fit them and their needs. Isn't it great!"
An idea occurring to him, Hec-Tor stood from the throne. He crossed the room to stand behind her. "Can you catalogue the individual mutants?"
Blinking up at him, Entrapta smiled, thinking he was taking an interest in her interest. "Yeah! All the mutants are pretty unique from one another. It should be easy to put together a roster of them!"
"Excellent." Hec-Tor nodded, liking Entrapta even more. She was proving to be even more useful than Brother lead him to believe. "We will run your catalogue against the bodies of those killed and the ones captured. Once all those here are accounted for, the one –or ones- left will be our mysterious informants."
There was no way the mutants of Nordor could have been as prepared for them as they were without outside influence. Hec-Tor wanted to discover who or what that outside influence was and put a stop to it. Running an empire was hard enough without outsiders trying to tear it down.
"Oh." Entrapta was just a little disappointed to learn that it was not their adaptations he was interested in. She would have thought, given his own condition and physical limitations, he would be interested in seeing how other creatures adapted to thrive. "Sure. It's just a simple matter of compiling data. That's easy."
"I will have someone catalogue the mutant soldiers we have killed." He nodded. "To compare to the roster you will compile."
"Okay." She agreed, decidedly less enthusiastically. But at least he no longer thought she was a 'security risk' and was actually letting her work with him. That was something.
…
The first thing Crita became aware of was how much her lungs hurt. Dry and scratchy. Like pins and needles inside her chest. She was coughing and gasping before she even opened her eyes.
When she did open her eyes, all she saw was a wash of gray. The gray metal paneling of an imperial detention cell.
She didn't have time to process her new circumstances, however, because the moment whoever was in charge of the prisoners noticed she was awake, they sent in two clones to collect her and take her to an interrogation room.
Two clone units pushed their way into her cell, and tried to grab her by the arms. She fought back, swinging her legs up and kicking one while the other held her. It staggered backwards silently, but did not fall. She was still too weak from her initial defeat to do any serious damage. Working together, the two clones dragged her, screaming profanities and kicking at them, down the corridor.
The interrogation room was dimply lit, but looked clean. Metal paneled walls, ceiling, and floor. A table sliding out from one wall, with two chairs, one on either side. A two-way mirror on one wall. A pretty standard interrogation room. The only overtly ominous detail was the drain in the floor.
Manhandling Crita into one of the chairs, her clone escorts made sure she was restrained and unable to move before taking up guard positions by the door.
A Rebrunk Nuru entered. Wearing the uniform of a high ranked Horde Officer, with the badge of a royal attendant over the Horde insignia on his chest. He carried a rolled canvas tote in one hand and a datapad in the other. The door slammed shut behind him, and Crita heard it lock. Loudly.
He set the rolled canvas tote and the datapad down on the table, then took up the empty chair opposite her. "I'm Mantenna," he informed her, "a Force Captain working directly under Prince Hec-Tor Kur of the Great and Eternal Horde Empire and I'll be conducting your interview."
"Interview?" Crita echoed, her skepticism dripping from every syllable. "Don't you mean integration?"
Mantenna rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers. "That depends, entirely, on you."
If she cooperated, answered his questions and gave him the information he wanted, she would be treated well ('well' in relation to her position as an enemy prisoner). However, all her comrades would know she betrayed them and if any of them ever got her alone, and away from the clone guards, they'd show her exactly what they thought of snitches and traitors.
So, Crita did the only thing that seemed appropriate to her. She spat at the Imperial dog. Snorting loudly as she rolled her mucus to get a nice, tick, loogie before spitting in his face.
Slowly, every slowly, Mantenna raised a finger to wipe the mucus from where it had landed on his cheek. He wiped his cheek a few more time just to make sure it was gone because –gross- then he sighed. As if Crita's projectile spit was no more than a minor inconvenience.
"Alright," he said. "If that is your decision."
Under the table, Mantenna lifted one of his four legs and kicked Crita's chair so that she slid backwards. Scraping against the metal floor until the back of the chair impacted the wall behind her. It knocked the air out of her still recovering lungs and she gasped and coughed.
Standing, Mantenna unrolled the canvas tote over the table, revealing it to be a took bag full of many multiple knives and bladed instruments.
"Do your worst!" She snarled at him. "I won't tell you shit!"
He selected a small, thin instrument. Almost like an awl. "I haven't even asked you any questions yet."
"I don't give a fuck what you ask, my answer will be the same," she promised him. "Fuck you!"
"Hm." Mantenna was not impressed. He came around the table, crossing the space between them and kneeling in front of the chair she was restrained on. "I confess, I'm not very familiar with mutant anatomy. So, at the moment, I only have one question: Is this a nerve?"
He used the awl to lightly poke at the tip of one of her fingers. Not hard. Certainly not enough to break the skin. But definitely enough to be felt if the spot was a nerve.
"Fuck you!" Was Crita's only response.
"I'll take that as a 'no'. How about here, is this a nerve?" He moved the awl to the space between two fingers, right in the finger-crotch where the two digits joined the rest of the hand.
Crita let out a sudden hiss from between his teeth, and the fingers curled in, forming a fist to protect the spot from his poking.
"Ah, I think I've found one." Mantenna announced.
"Fuck. You." Crita repeated.
"I think we can begin." He announced, replacing the awl and selecting a different tool. "For your sake, madam, I do hope you reconsider you position and cooperate."
…
Hec-Tor scrolled through the catalogue of mutants Entrapta had compiled from the Nordor security footage, and compared it to the headshots he's had his own soldiers take of the mutants they killed. The only ones on Entrapta's list were the four leaders still alive and in their custody, and one other.
A mostly humanoid body. Two arms, two legs. Muscular. Thick built. Clearly a warrior of some kind. Of average height for most races of the universe. Blue skin everywhere except for his face. His face… did not look like it had skin at all.
At first Hec-Tor thought that his species just had different pigment on their faces than the rest of their bodies. Hec-Tor's own face was white, while most his body (not counting the discoloration from his conditions) was a steely gray-blue. But upon a more critical examination of the frame Entrapta had used in the catalogue, Hec-Tor realized that it was not pale yellow-white or ivory skin on his face. It was bone. Whoever he was, he had a skull for a head.
Turning the datapad so that Entrpata could see the one he was interested in, he asked, "May I see more footage of this one?"
"Uh, sure!" Her hair danced over the keyboard, punching in a couple lines of code before multiple screens were filled with different footage reels containing the unnamed, skull-faced, interloper.
Footage of skull-face talking with a skeptical and critical looking Flogg. Footage of skull-face showing Flogg and his lieutenants, Slush Head, Optikk, and Crita, a hologram ofMonstron, and holding up his fingers, counting how many troops she carried and how they were spread out over the ship. Then replacing the hologram of Monstron with a hologram of the Nordor base and pointing out the exact spot in the base that Hec-Tor ordered the first wave of clones be teleported.
Whoever this skull-faced informant was, he had too much knowledge of not just Imperial tactics, but of Hec-Tor's personal flagship and Hec-Tor himself. Not some disillusioned nobody from a backwater world, then. This mysterious informant had to be a former Horde officer –and a highly ranked officer to know what he knew. One of Monstron's old bridge officers maybe? Hec-Tor did not recognize him.
"Is there sound to any of these?" He asked Entrapta.
She shook her head. "No. Nordor security feeds are visual only. No audio."
He suppressed the urge to growl in frustration. Of course there wasn't any audio. Of course he couldn't just turn on the sound and hear the mutants call the informant by a name. That would be to easy.
"Give this footage to my Lieutenant, Grizzlor." Hec-Tor told her. "He will isolate the clearest frame of his face. We can sent out a bulletin from Monstron once we are back in hyperspace. I want his face on every media outlet by the time we reach Etheria."
"Okay." Entrapta shrugged, recognizing that her contributions to this project were more-or-less over. "Can I keep the footage to continue studying their adaptations?"
"You are a Princess of the Empire and may do as you wish." He reminded her. "If it pleases you, you may collect whatever adaptations interest you from their bodies. I will have the clones clean and store them for our journey."
He was not expecting her to become as excited as she did when he said that. Hair going a little frizzy for half a moment, her body practically vibrating with excitement, as her teeth spread in an unsettling smile. She let out a high-pitched squeal. "Really? Thank you! I promise, you won't be sorry!"
Hec-Tor had no idea what to say to that. He was still getting used to her unfettered enthusiasm. So, he offered her a polite bow and excused himself. He had to talk to Mantenna about the interrogations anyway. Maybe one of the captured mutant leaders would have more information about their mysterious skull-faced enemy.
He wanted to know how the mysterious informant could know so much.
…