Jot

“Jot,” the judge hissed, “choose now—synaptic resequencing, or join in our conquest for liberation.”

Jot’s tail rattled while her slit pupils dilated, and she stuck out her forked tongue—“I choose conquest, Your Honor.”

“Excellent, Jot. Your sentencing shall begin immediately. Guards!”

Jot slithered into a neural synchronizer:

Her winged cybernetic body flew to one of their moons, Xerza B, where the invaders arriving through wormholes mass slaughtered a nursery. She tracked the infestation with her enhanced senses, and with tentacles, held onto a zapper and a plasma sword.

“Commencing eradication ...”

Jot eliminated the hideously, scaleless, bipedal creatures.