The stories first couple chapters are contained here, I'm hoping for feedback on it and to see whether it's worth continuing. The aim for it is to be a pro zoo story of sorts without throwing it in your face so much that a nonzoo will hate it. Feedback welcome.

Begin:

By all that is sacred,

I swear this holy oath,

to the Speaker I have known and loved,

and who is as blessed as she is mute.

-Royal Translators Pledge to the Holy Speaker, 1st Stanza

"No, I will not wear it." The light in the room was blinding, at least compared to that in his holding cell. They had brought him out for one reason and one reason alone, his trial. He was once known as Trax Markell, but he had not used that name in a very long time. Most people referred to him as the "Royal Translator." It rolled off the tongue better of course in his home worlds native language. The Terran tongue was not as... graceful at such words. Perhaps that's why they used a different title with him, though that would not explain the confusion of meanings. They called him "Emperor," and according to the Terran generals, he must stand trial. And so he would. But he would not wear such a piece.

He gestured them to put away the antlered crown. "Why?" one of his guards asked. "Even your appointed defense lawyer thinks it is in your best interest to dress to your title." Trax winced. "I have no right..." he paused, as if choosing his next words carefully. A careful observer may have noticed he was fighting back tears. "...she is dead... I lost that right long ago."

The guards suppressed a chuckle. "As you wish, your majesty!" They said, bowing. It was quite clear that they found the whole speaker-translator relationship amusing. It never failed. But he'd save his wit for the trial, even if it was sure to be only ceremonial in nature.

They led him down a bright-white ceiling-lit hallway. The room suddenly shuddered. Trax looked around, apprehensively. "Don't get excited your highness, we’re just docking with the D.C. hub.” The guard beside him reminded him. “You’re a long way from home, your boys can’t touch Earth. Not anymore.” The lights flickered off for a few seconds, and then back on. The guard slammed the butt of his rifle against the door panel, as if in frustration. “But the damage they did still fucks with our electric to this day!” “Why DC?” Trax asked, meekly. “You know why D.C., fuckin’ imperial…” “Max,” the guard lead interrupted him. “We’re going to be on camera soon. You need to shut up.” “Fine…” the guard grumbled. “…but you know he knows why.” He went back to moping silently. The squad leader spoke up, answering the unanswered: “It’s D.C. because Washington D.C. is our capitol, Emperor.” The lead guard explained. “And yet your council of generals rules from Mars…” Trax reminded him. He couldn’t suppress a slight chuckle. The squad leader however remained unamused. “We hold them at Mars because D.C. is a dangerous, toxic wasteland. As is most of Earth after what you have done...” The squad leader looked pained, and his next words were in a very firm tone. It was the tone of a man on the edge, and of one who is warning you not to push him farther. “Do you not remember this is trial for your crimes emperor? Not mine. And certainly not one where you get to choose the location. We will see you to it, alive. I have no other obligations, and I have made no other promises…” He looked up, and in his eyes was fire. “So I suggest you shut the fuck up.” Suddenly, the ships loudspeaker crackled to life. “We’ve completed the transfer to the Earth Energy Grid, surface crew proceed to the docking ring.” They stopped at a small, barely 5 ft square door. One of the guards stopped at a receptacle and began distributing filtration masks for the surface. 5 gas masks, 5 guards. “Don’t I need one?” Trax asked, meekly. He kind of already knew the answer, but why not try? The squad leader grinned a toothy grin through his plastic mask cover, and spoke with a muffled voice “No, my lordship, do not worry. The toxins beneath are not enough to KILL you. At least… not immediately.” With that wonderful reality sinking in, he was pushed into the door and into the docking capsule. They buckled him into his seat, and each of them took positions around him. The descent to Earth was about to begin. As the windowed capsule began to detach from the ship with a hiss, and lurch forward on its track, the squad leader shouted out an almost melodious tune “You know how it goes boys:” As the capsule rotated the docking ring and the solar flare of their star came into view, all the squad issued their reply “We all come from Sol!” they shouted enthusiastically. And as the capsule lurched downward towards earth and began its descent, the squad leader enthusiastically finished their oath: “And to Sol we return!” The capsule began to gain momentum at a terrifying rate. The descent to earth had begun.

For the gift she has given me,

I am now her property.

An extension of her soul,

Her voice will make me whole.

-Royal Translators Pledge to the Holy Speaker, 2nd Stanza

The descent to Earth was terrifying to Trax, the capsule moved at speeds so fast they almost made him black out. His guards however, were clearly used to the experience. “What’s the matter, your majesty? You’ve never rode the D.C. coaster before?” one of them asked? Chuckling could be heard in the background. Trax didn’t reply. He was saving his words for when the cameras were on him. That was surely his best bet. He wasn’t comfortable though, something on his seat was poking him. He reached down, and pulled out a small piece of plant matter with a bud on the end. He knew what it was immediately. It was the Patelmock plant, native only to Trisad, his home world. It translated roughly to “messenger plant,” and was a thorny bush that stuck to nearly anything around it, and featured a large leather bud ideal for concealing things. In ancient days, it had been used to deliver messages discreetly. Looking around to be sure no one was watching, he unwrapped the leathery bud and found inside a hastily scrawled message. In the native symbol language of his home world, it had two signs. One for preparedness, and another for midday. The message was clear, be prepared for midday. Trax’s mind was filled with dreadful thoughts at what this could mean. They weren’t… planning something were they? How? Could they be so unwise? The capsule jerked suddenly, and altered direction, turning towards a new area of the planet. The remains of the D.C. historic district came into proper view, as well as the wreckage and cratered remains of a massive Trisadian spacecraft. The craft was still smoldering. He knew the craft, knew it well. It was once the flagship of the Imperial Fleet… it once carried the Translator and his speaker partner. Once. Before the battle of Sol. Before they decided to sacrifice themselves on Earth’s surface in the name of war and death. The war they started would span decades, kill millions instantly, and tens of billions over the course of the next 30 years. In the end, the empire would be defeated, and Trisad would be left in ruins, and the holy speakers slaughtered. And was it worth it? He honestly did not know the answer to that.

One thing was for certain though, the ship was still burning brightly against the smoke-laden sky. “Fucker’s still burning” one of the guards commented. “Yeah, it’s clearly an old colonial craft from the pre-unification days.” Another replied. “Why you say that?” One asked. “cause…” he continued. ”Look at ol’ ugly, still burning like that? Only old fission reactors behave like that, our modern fusion ones would’ve safely shutdown long ago… and that design? It’s old, blocky forged industrial steel and such. We’ve got better materials now.” He sat back. “I’m telling you man, these Trisadians are in denial about their origins. They come from earth as much as us. While I bet …” “No, we do not.” Trax interrupted in a plain voice, solid with conviction. “Trisad is our home. We were born there. And there we have always been.” The guard smirked. “Yeah, and all your plant life and such is nearly identical too? Not an earth colonial effort, not at all, right?” the whole shuttle laughed. Trax was now struggling to concentrate, the GeForces were getting to him… “and our written history going back nearly 10,000 years doesn’t speak to anything?” Trax retorted, beads of sweat beginning to pop out of his forehead. “What of the first Translator and Speaker, recorded to exist when you were still fighting each other in the Bronze Age? What of that?” Breathing was becoming hard. The guard threw his head back and shouted over the noise. “Frankly? I think you guys are full of shit.” Laughter erupted. It did not matter anyway. He knew the earth saying about history being written by the victors… perhaps they were ever right on that point. Trax knew he will find out the truth to that matter soon enough. As the capsule continued to barrel towards earth at impressive speed, he turned his thoughts to his trial. If it wouldn’t clear things up, then nothing would. Nothing could. He threw his head back, and lapsed into unconsciousness. There was nothing more to worry about until the trial anyways.

Her words will guide our hand

From her mind to my mouth,

Together, we will rule the land.

-Royal Translators Pledge to the Holy Speaker, 3rd Stanza

When Trax came to, his still limp body was being dragged by the guards into the courthouse. The light was a sickly brownish hue, and the whole of the planet had a smell of burning and ash. Around him, behind the barriers and soldiers set up to protect him, thronged an angry, ragged mob of people. They were dressed in ragged, dirty clothes and everyone had a wet strip of cloth covering their mouths to protect them from eventual poisoning by the polluted atmosphere. A few of the carried signs. He didn’t want to look, but he had too. He owed it to them. He locked eyes with a woman, her skin filthy and pitted with sores. She held a sign, held it high. It read “Butcher of Families, Destroyer of Worlds.” Other sings read similar “Welcome to Sol, murderer.” More and more of the same. And they weren’t entirely wrong. Though he had not started the war, he had faithfully executed it to its bloody end. Do good intentions make up for horrendous misdeeds? Honestly? He could not say. He would leave it to them. In this trial, he would speak only the truth. Hopefully history would be an honest judge. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted an unusual protester. It was a man, ragged and dirty like the rest, but he wasn’t as… enthusiastic in his hatred. And his sign… it was a simple phrase. “At noon, Justice.” So his suspicions were correct. They were here after all. “No, please don’t.” He thought to himself, but he knew this situation was beyond his control. They were going to make a move on the courthouse at noon. He had to be prepared. He had to stop it. The bloodshed had to stop here and now. Maybe, just maybe, he could manage that. Then, maybe his reign will mean something. Just maybe. The soldiers pushed him into the courthouse, from there he was led to a small room with a table. A guard gestured to him. “Take a seat, your appointed defense attorney will be with you shortly.” The soldier stepped outside the room, and the door locked from the outside. Not that he’d attempt an escape… they were foolish with all this paranoia about him. He wanted this, he needed this. This trial would put his demons to rest. What they needed to fear lurked outside. “Should I warn them?” he wondered? His mind drifted back to the battle of Trisad, to the last words he had heard from his speaker on the last eve before the breaching of the Atria line. They had no idea that Terran warships would be besieging their capitol the next day, but she knew. Somehow, his speaker knew. She had been sad all day; he could feel it. She would not eat. But when addressed by him, she would not admit to what was troubling her. He is still sure she knew. She had to have known. The Speaker animals always saw more than their mere human counterparts. To the Terrans, they were simply another breed of deer, a native species of their Earth home world. But to the Trisadians they were so much more. The Does of this special animal had led the empire for nearly 10,000 years, when the last recorded human emperor, Harkov the Dominating, was cast from the throne by an army led by his only son, Garant the Wise. His son was not the true leader of the army though, as most initially assumed. He had a companion who had chosen to guide him. A spirit animal of sorts, a holy doe. A speaker.
He claimed he could hear her thoughts, speak for her. The Terrans laugh at the idea, but Trax knew it was true. All of the empire did, but most certainly those who were lucky enough to be bonded to a doe understood it to be true. He had been so lucky. He had heard his own Doe, shared her emotions, her pains. It wasn’t so much words, but like a telepathic bond. It was up to him to make her feelings on matters become words, to execute them and lead the empire. In that sense, there was no emperor after Harkov. There was only the holy Empress doe, and her translator. From then on, every emperor and member of the royal senate would be one who had successfully made the bond with a spirit animal. The government of Trisad was fully led by the Speaker animals, with a holy Doe as the head of government. The Terran’s found this no level of amusing of course. He was sure they found it amusing when the gunned down his Doe in cold blood too. That day, when fire rained from the sky, and even the royal quarters, the government district, was engulfed in war. He tried to save her, he did. But they couldn’t secure that section the city. They took great pride in slaughtering them all. He remembers the searing pain when his bond was severed. He was left only with the last night’s warning words, when she had been so upset. The only words she had uttered all evening, when he had asked her what was wrong. She knew he could feel her pain, that she could not hide it, and so she told him. He didn’t understand it until now. But now, it made perfectly clear what he had to do.

“At Dawn, I will die. And by the end of the decade you will burn in the light of a distant star. Be sure you can answer to yourself, for our time has come. Our age has ended.”

By tomorrow, as she had predicted, the unthinkable had happened. Trisad, the heart of the once mighty empire, was in ruins. The battle for the Capitol lasted only a day. A traitor within the government is said to have lowered the planetary shields and stopped the deployment of the surface anti-orbital cannons, and this sped up the invasion 10 fold. But it mattered not. The part that haunts him is in the middle of her message. “Be sure you can answer to yourself.” Can he? Can he really? After looking at his victims, he had already decided that. It would be up to them, not him. And if he had to burn in the light of a distant star to do it, so be it. If death was his punishment, then he would take it gladly given his guilt. He had to answer to himself, as per her orders. And this was the only way. As his lawyer arrived at the table to discuss his defense, he spoke plainly. “Please get me your managing general. I have information on a threat on this compound.” As they ushered security forces into the room and prepared the compound for lockdown, he wondered what his men would think of this apparent treachery? He had no second thoughts of course… he had done what needed to be done. After all, his Doe had given so much for him, who was he to question her word? He would see it done. By any means.