Inspecting the rest of the battle I noticed many of the surviving enemies are not only cowering in fear but bowing, reciting some sort of prayer perhaps. I ignore them for now and order the squads to take them captive. Strangely they don't resist and go quietly without incident. There are only around fifty survivors and managing them will likely be a hassle. But I do have some new allies that can take the burden.

Their weapons are seized and piled in a corner, quite a number of rusty laser rifles. What seems to be makeshift electromagnetic weapons. Rather a mish-mash of weaponry, yet still such a variety would be able to secure control over this medieval society albeit via brutal means.

I move towards the slumped-over Wokan commander and immediately withdraw a syringe from my exo-suits medical compartment. Injecting him in the neck without hesitation. After the blue liquid enters, what I believe is his artery. The Wokan rises suddenly, coughing profusely and with a dumbfounded expression. The event sparks several gasps from the Uhuran who begin bowing and praying with more intensity. Perhaps that was not a good idea, but I am short on time.

I glance over to Zatrophos and gesture him towards the now fearful Wokan. He then proceeds to jam his arm into his back, pressing him forward. An audible yelp of pain can be heard. I glare down at the frightened creature, turning to the communications link, to my associates back on the ship. "Send those engineers here, I want them to extract the components they need from this vehicle." I receive an affirmation and then turn my gaze to the task at hand. My glare is palpable and laced with aggressive intention, such as I require.

The Wokan below me seems to be sweating, likely an obvious indicator of fear or perhaps a normal excretion for his species. Regardless of anatomy, I am quite curious to hear this one spill all he has to offer. Whether it be blood or information, whichever comes first. Unfortunately, such things will have to wait as other tasks are laid before me. I direct my soldiers to take the enemies captive. The captives strangely don't resist, many of them seem quite demoralised, and perhaps faith can be a double-edged weapon.

Ordinarily, some sort of prison would be useful but I must make do with what I have. I had them taken to the secondary refugee camp for now. Their weapons were seized by me of course and placed within the heavy vehicle which shall now be my new mobile command centre. Entering the interior from the side hatch I take stock of the vehicle. It looks remarkably similar to the Wokan patrol vessels. Two driver's seats with a similar but less complicated control dashboard. I move forward and seat myself on the right-side driver seat.

Now seated I hear the sound of a loud thud to my left, turning to greet the shadow peering to my side I notice Zatrophos glaring at me. His expression exudes some sort of expectation, I wonder what this brute is thinking about. I decided to query, hopefully, the answer is not too crude. "Do you require something, Zatrophos?" I ask not really expecting an answer. Since I have a nagging suspicion, this may be some sort of intimidation strategy or he is just bored.

He scoffs, I have come to expect that is his initial reaction to most queries. His shoulders rise and fall before he cracks his neck to the side. I could surmise his intentions but decided to secede to listening to him. Like clockwork, he speaks. "Anyone else need killing?" His voice is as harsh as ever, laced with barely concealed ferociousness. Still, it is a necessary question, for a being such as him with his species' savagery, perhaps even greater than my own.

I thought about the concept, or do I require him for any future tasks at the moment, after some time pondering, I turned to answer. "Not currently but I will let you know when such needs arise." I turn back to the control panel inspecting its various facets out of curiosity. A moment goes by, I then speak up directing my voice to Zatrophos, without turning my head. "I'm curious, how do you feel about fighting against your own kind?" It is a question I had been eager to ask, national wars on my planet usually consisted of citizens of various races fighting each other. Of course, this is discounting coups and rebellions.

With my question asked I wait patiently for a response, still inspecting the controls. He grumbles something inaudible before speaking with a much clearer tone of voice. "Enemies are enemies doesn't matter if they look like me or any other." That was awfully cavalier of him, perhaps it's a personal or a cultural trait. With my thoughts permeating my mind, I continue to listen to his words. "We don't care much who is on the other end of the gun as long as they are the enemy, why do you ask little red?" Well, I am just going to gloss over his new nickname for me and try to stick to the task at hand.

Nodding my head, I immerse myself in contemplation, before finally turning to him, tilting my head to the right and asking my question. "Is that a cultural trait or is that your own opinion?" He had piqued my curiosity, so to obtain my answers I decided to ask a straightforward question.

He smiles in response, though it's not a jovial one, more predatory in my opinion. He then nods his head a few times before raising his rifle and placing it on his shoulder. "Well, little red, I guess it's both. I mean we Wokan were killing each other en masse for generations, during the clan wars of old." The gaze he exudes seems to morph from aggressive to contemplative at least, I think. He lowers his weapon, inspecting it with that same gleaming smile.

Continuing where he left off, he doesn't look at me but still speaks clearly. "This is the way of our people. Death is a companion of all Wokan's whether it's their kin or the enemy. Honestly, we would have likely destroyed each other. If it wasn't for the Grand Marshal uniting all clans under his banner." Well, now that piques my interest even more, yet even with that I turn to face him he barely acknowledges that.

Smiling to myself I decided to ask a question, regarding this supposed uniter of Wokan's. "Your people were united into a single government, was it a military dictatorship of sorts?" I ask because it's a reasonable assertion given the aggressive nature of their people. Perhaps rule through the largest military force was their way.

Immediately after my question, he starts cackling loudly in raucous laughter. He has yet to reply and appears to be fiddling with a small control mechanism to the side. I lean slightly forward to get a better look before he speaks up in reply. "You are correct little red; our people have always been ruled by the military and least as far as the former Wokan Hierarchy allowed us to research history." His comments seem to exude a certain level of disdain for the subject. I'm not sure if I am reading him correctly. Suddenly a short beeping sound can be heard from the control panel and a small compartment opens.

I move a bit closer for a look and sigh dejectedly after inspecting the contents. Zatrophos withdraws a large bottle of, I think alcoholic liquid. Unscrewing the top, he immediately begins chugging the contents with gusto. I try to speak up but he holds out his remaining hand gesturing me to wait while he continues to chug the bottle. Finally, he empties the contents, letting out a loud gasp of breath then turns to me, revealing a disgusted expression. Turning down to the empty bottle he grumbles to himself something along the lines of disgusting Demthesian swill.

I recognise the alcohol he just downed and frown slightly considering the beverage was one I had enjoyed. I decided to remove such thoughts and speak to him directly. "Interesting, so your people's government was entirely run by the military, no political parties, nor royal family." That didn't translate well but I think I got the gist of what I am trying to convey across.

He smirks to himself at my statement before searching through what I can only call an alcoholic stash. I hope that's not a Demthesian feature and something that slipped by the military checks for contraband. Whilst still searching he begins detailing more about his people. "I don't know what a royal family is or politician but the military has always run Woka. At least for as long as my clan has been around." Immediately after finishing his sentence, he grabs another bottle smiles and removes the lid, to give it a short sniff. "I suppose we did have clans back in ancient times but most were governed by a clan Warband. Which is basically a military except populated by our savage ancestors." His reaction doesn't seem to change anymore as if these comments on the past matter little, which is to be expected.

I nod a few times, pondering on his words before lifting my gaze and querying him again. "Does that mean your species has always been at war, how have you not fallen to mutual annihilation?" Honestly, it's something I would have expected to be the end of their world. My people had a similar issue though it was more associated with racism and cultural differences. But an entire species dedicated to war, reaching space age under a united, totalitarian militaristic government. That seems even more unlikely than my people, making long-lasting peace.

He chuckles again because apparently, I consistently amused him and well I am curious as to why, so I let him speak. "You are correct little red, we should have wiped each other out, but the first Grand Marshal Zukol. He managed to make all the clans fear him so much, they all fell in line." Downing another alcoholic beverage, he finally smiles muttering that's the good stuff before continuing with further enthusiasm. Half the bottle went, he takes a breath and makes one final comment. "But Zukol got lucky, if that Pintonian ship had crash-landed anywhere else, we may have had a different dictator in the history books." The words I just heard piqued my interest immensely, bringing together a certain level of sensitivity to my confusion on the subject.

A crashed ship possessing highly advanced technology landed on a world populated by conflicting warmongering clans, what could go wrong? I decided to listen more as he regals me with his simplistic version of historical events. There was some slurring but I managed to get an idea. Apparently, Grand Marshal Zukol's rise to power was precipitated when a Pintonian exploration vessel, crash-landed within the borders of Zukol's clan.

The pilot was alive and taken captive along with his ship. Not much is known about his fate but the subsequent advances in technology and weapons were clear. Zukol quickly seized power with his flagship bombing his major rivals from orbit and securing complete dominion over the planet. Zukol's regime was secured, initially, he wanted to build his own little empire, which didn't turn out so well as his brutal antics brought him the ire of the populace, leading to his own son killing him in his sleep.

His son Zamkolik went to consolidate absolute centralised military power establishing the Wokan hierarchy, upon the bones of his father's corpse. Zatrophos's words on the subject were quite colourful but essentially the Wokan advanced by stealing alien technology and proceeded to continue their warmongering ways amongst the stars, only to be beaten down by another warmonger.

An intriguing bit of history would explain how such an aggressive species who would have eventually succumbed to infighting were able to reach space age. It was in fact a crashed Pintonian ship that was the catalyst for major changes in their society. Thinking about these factors that influenced Wokan society I was indeed curious about something. "Zatrophos you stated that it was a Pintonian ship that crashed? Does that mean the Wokan's enslaved the Pintonians?" I ask as it seems odd that Quroken would be aboard a ship with many Wokan and harboured no ill will.

He snorts in amusement, his usual response before replying with a cavalier tone. "We don't bring the grovelers to heel, that was the Shah. The Pintonian were already grovelling to them well before we became aware." Seems our dearly departed Zukol glossed over that fact when extracting intelligence from his Pintonian captive. Zatrophos continues slamming down those drinks like he is consuming water. Perhaps he has a similar tolerance for them as I do.

Regardless I leave such thoughts to another time, while I work on understanding this vehicle. The controls are indeed similar but with a cursory observation, I can see some slight differences. Whilst maintaining my eye on the interest before me. The sound of a gasping voice resounds just behind me. I turn around only to witness the awakening of our new Wokan prisoner.

I turn to the side and notice his loyal Uhuran propaganda machine alighting with joy upon what I can only assume is his master's rising. One of my Garudan associates immediately keeps him in check, and with that taken care of, I glare at our now-awake guest.

He interns glares at me with that hateful expression, which I have come to realise is universal amongst his species. Waiting for a moment he finally speaks of his own accord. "Zatrophos, you take orders from this foreigner, you bring shame to your clutch!" As expected, he comes out swinging with incendiary comments. I wonder if there is sincerity within those words. Or are they merely a ploy to provoke a reaction?

Curious I turn back to gaze upon Zatrophos who remains unfazed, now sipping the alcohol slowly. He grumbles about the taste and without turning around he replies. "He's not so bad, much better than Zekton and I'm not taking orders from some young clutch, barely away from his mother's breast." He turns and rises from his chair, making his way towards our guest. His body is hunched since the cabin is quite small. Hunched over he glares at him with ferocity, before speaking with an accusatory tone. "I heard he is calling himself a God, little Randax trying to be big when he is so small. The war God is the only God and nothing that dies can ever usurp him." Sipping the bottle, he continues to glare at him causing the other to shrink back with fear.

I move forward hunched over as well but not as pronounced as Zatrophos. Making my query at the now frightened Wokan. "I am quite curious about the intelligence you can provide in regards to Randax's plans and the state of the Wokan occupation. Unless, of course, you wish for me, to leave you alone with Zatrophos." I clearly explained the situation to him, though leaving him with this brute is not wise and I would never do that as I may lose this new source of information. luckily, I am something new to this Wokan, an outlier of every society I encounter. So, they neither know me nor what I am willing to do.

As expected, his expression visibly changes leaving his body shivering in fear, likely because of Zatrophos's hateful glare. Now with our guest in a talking mood, I begin questioning him. Some time passes and to be honest, he provided too much information, many subjects he spilled information on. Some examples were stealing food rations from the Demthesians. The time he fathered a clutch with several clutch bearers with neither the bearers being aware of each other. He went on and on about his own political beliefs, he apparently believes that Randax is the saviour of the Wokan people and wishes to elevate him to Grand Marshal of all Wokan kind.

After spending some time guiding him to the information relevant to my needs he begins talking less in earnest, clearly holding back. The first question I asked was in regard to the weapons, the Uhurans were provided with. Honestly, these laser rifles do appear to be new and have some ware from the ravages of time. Yet this amount is concerning. Leading me to believe they were not meant to be aboard an exploration vessel. This Wokan honestly didn't know, apparently, Randax provided them in massive crates, allowing the arming of the Uhurans to proceed faster.

Another question I asked was in regard to his knowledge of the occupation's current state. He explained that the Uhuran fortress, he was sent from had lost contact with the southern field teams sent by Zekton. This was expected since I had sent several ships to eliminate Zekton's occupation of the south. Leaving the north still under Randax rule. He went on to explain how the entire north has been completely subjugated with the entire Uhuran populace serving the new regime. The other external tribes have also been either wiped out or enslaved. Used for labour purposes until proper equipment can be brought down from the ship.

He describes a fortress retrofitted for and controlled by Randax's remaining officers who are keeping the Uhurans in check. The defences are not as troublesome as I had expected, clearly, the main equipment Randax was able to smuggle to the planet was weapons. That was the extent of his knowledge since he had only been ordered to advance south and capture as many Garudan villages as possible, to increase the slave populace.

Collating all this information, I decided to leave the vehicle. Zatrophos accompanies me, the remaining guards watch our two captives. Arriving outside with the fresh air, I take a deep breath and taste the strange tangy air. Somewhat of a spicy taste, but rather odd. Standing in the open I cast my gaze across the battlefield, eyeing the forest surrounding us. The trees are swaying in the wind ever so slightly. Oddly calming atmosphere considering many died this day. I suppose the calm tends to follow a battle, a strange contrast in my opinion.