Reluctant Rebel

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.
"Quit staring, idiot," my friend Bob whispered. "She's the emperor's niece!"
When I looked back up, the Mouwaon beauty was gone.

During the following weeks we learned Mouwaon peace was another incarnation of Pax Romana, peace by all means. This was fine for me, as long as I was allowed to keep my ship and job, scouting for ore-rich asteroids in remote parts of the belt.

And that's what I did, returning to Eris for the occasional break, couple of drinks and a well-earned night in the red sector. It'd become quite the destination for alien tourists to the solar system and I didn't mind the new attractions.
After an especially eventful party I was on my way back to the outer dock on wobbly feet. You see, scouts are kept in the cheaper part of commoner station, outside the main dome. Access is through a maze of tunnels, most of them remnants of ancient mines.
My thoughts inevitably turned from a pleasant evening to a short but hopefully restful night and the next long run waiting for me in the morning. Suddenly, a strong hand grabbed my sleeve and pulled me into an unlit side tunnel. I tried to free myself but somehow stumbled over my own feet and smashed headlong into a pile of empty canisters.
"Shh!" the voice of the sleeve-puller whispered besides my ear. "Don't move, someone might hear us!"
After the racket of my involuntary fall it seemed highly improbable someone was close enough to overhear us simply talking. I shook my arm loose of the stranger's grip and climbed cursing back to my feet.
"What do you want? I've neither time nor interest to get in trouble with purple garden gnomes tonight."
"You must get me out of here. Now."
"What?" Admittedly, my mind wasn't working at its fastest. "Listen, whoever you are, I won't risk trouble. I've got my scouting licence to lose."
With a desperate sigh my assailant lit a torch. In its yellow beam I recognised a pelted, tan head, trembling whiskers, and big almond-shaped eyes.
"Wait, you're the chick, the one from the balcony. You're a celebrity, aren't you?"
"That's not the point. I took you for a fearless space ranger. In the lower decks, they tell stories about you. Seems they're just human exaggerations after all."

Well, what options did I have? There was clearly a lady in distress, and my reputation was at stake. It never even occurred to me to ask about the nature of the emergency before we were out of Eris' range and I'd soundly slept a few hours.

I awoke with a headache and a Mouwaon tail curled around my naked butt. Talking about compromising situations, I also couldn't remember how I'd made it back to the ship, out of dock, and to my cabin.
My hung-over groaning woke my guest. Two dark eyes blinked open.
"Good morning!"
"Morning. What are you doing on my ship, em, and in my bed?"
"You rescued me, don't you remember?"

Honestly, I didn't. But after a couple of strong black coffees my head began to clear. The emperors's niece got the hang of my brew pretty fast. I was impressed.
"You adapt to human customs quickly."
"Your species is fascinating. And this definitely beats the option of posing as target for an assassination attempt or marrying an Earth politician as symbol of unity. Chance to be assassinated later included."
"Wait, you're the emperor's niece, why would he put you in harms way?"
"Do you have an inkling how many nieces he has? Well, neither does he, I guess. Enough to detach one to every colony. We're meant to provoke aggression, so he has a reason to squelch the flames of upcoming rebellions. His words, and I've seen it work. Or, if the species in question is really peaceful, we get to marry a leader in symbolic union. They're mostly wrinkled old men. Yikes!"
"So you decided to flee?"
"No, I decided to get kidnapped by you. There's a difference."
"Hey, I didn't do nothing of the sort! You..."
"You did. At least that's what my uncle believes. I already sent him a subspace message with an ultimatum in your name. Either he pays ransom onto an anonymous bank account or you, well we, join the Ilarash rebellion."
My head started to throb again. "Ransom? Rebellion? Woman, what are you talking about?"
"Our joint future. No worries, I've got it planned out. Why do you think I studied your language even before we invaded your star system? It's high time someone organises an adequate rebellion against my uncle. I just waited for the right partner."

And then she slipped her sensitive tail around my waist. Honestly, I never intended to become a rebel. But I guess at this point, I ran out of options. What wouldn't a man do for a persuasive, gorgeous babe? And her convincing tail...