A/N: So, nobody probably remembers me and I am basically opening my window and shouting at the universe, but I promised I'd finish this story and even though it's been 3 years (or more) since I updated, I'll be damned if I don't keep that promise. Truth be told, I started a medication that basically drained me of my creativity and ability to write, but it happened slowly and I didn't notice it until I was totally numb. You can see it in the decline of No Return's later chapters, but now that I'm getting back to my old self, this monster started nagging at my brain again.
FFN locked me out of the old account (idiot me decided to change the email associated with it, and then promptly blank on what it was, so I gave up), hence the username change.
Those of you new to this thing should start with the first chapter, which can be found here: ff.n /s/4108780/1/No-Return. I guarantee you won't know what the hell's going on otherwise.
- 19 -
The Void Ship finally docked at Malterra, and everyone aboard felt a long-overdue sense of relief as the airlock sealed and the doors opened. The majority of their return trip was spent anticipating the disaster they'd all been certain would befall them; after all, one did not break in to the most secure prison facility in the known universe and just walk out. While they knew their success was in large part due to Mei's abilities, she had assured them that they would have completed the mission just as well without her there and now that they were "home," it gave them the sense of confidence they'd so desperately needed, especially after what had previously happened on Vort.
The captain also felt wonderfully relieved to see that Red and Purple had made it back in a relatively unshaken state of mind. He had no doubt that it had been hell for them, but at the moment they appeared to be in no worse a state than when they left. Perhaps it was his generally pessimistic disposition, but Lard Nar had assumed they'd return visibly disturbed after having traveled to a place that could only have reminded them of what they had escaped, and was glad to see it hadn't been detrimental.
The entire crew seemed to share their disposition, and there was no reason they shouldn't, he thought. He knew from Skooge's report that Tenn hadn't been at her best, but he was glad to know she intended to do something about it. He would not single her out and take her aside. It was better for her to take the initiative and seek Spleenk out herself. She could be proud of herself for taking proactive steps of her own volition, and Lard Nar knew how crucial that feeling of self-worth was at such a critical point.
He shook himself from his thoughts and decided that he ought to address them and offer some well-earned approbation, "What you just did was damn near impossible." Said the captain, "Before you all joined up with us, I wouldn't have suggested something like this; hell, we probably wouldn't even have thought of it.
I know you're all concerned about the information you retrieved from the Void, and you have every right to be. I can tell you right now, it's going to be a question of bad, worse, and awful, but the important thing is that no matter how dire the situation looks, we have the information and we can prepare for it. We have time to sabotage their plans. We can take steps to minimize damage, and even prevent things altogether. You all took a huge risk, and I can't explain just how important it is."
Lard Nar's speech had the affect he intended and the occupants of the room beamed with pride. No matter what they were up against, they were going to be prepared for it. They had done well and deserved to enjoy the victory while it lasted.
"Now, let's get that information to Sally and you can all take a break for a while. We'll debrief once everything's been analyzed and Zim and Dib return from their mission."
Both former Tallests were visibly surprised, having heard no mention of this until now, and Red voiced his confusion, "What mission?"
"One of our scouts managed to pick up and recruit that Irken doctor who tested out the vaccines, so I sent Zim and Dib to pick them up."
Red and Purple looked slightly nervous, and Lard Nar suspected it was largely due to their uncertainty. "How'd it go?" Purple asked, somewhat hesitant.
"They radioed in after leaving Tauron and everything was good. We're expecting them back in a few hours. No way to tell while they're in quantumspace."
Though they were still somewhat concerned, Red and Purple both appeared visibly more relaxed. Luckily for Lard Nar, their minds were still preoccupied after dealing with the events in the Void and though they knew something was slightly off, neither was able to put much thought into why. The captain didn't want to lie to them, but he knew they'd just come face-to-face with the people who'd stolen most of their lives and tortured them for decades; they did not need anything else to worry about at the moment.
Though Zim and Dib were almost an hour behind their scheduled ETA, he'd gotten reports of a malfunctioning Irkwatch vessel in the area they'd where they last reported in. There were no sightings of their shuttle, so the captain had to trust that they'd dealt with the threat and escaped. In another hour or so he'd let himself legitimately begin to worry but until then, he would assume that things had gone mostly to plan.
He knew Lulu could handle herself and keep a clear head, even when the people around her couldn't. She'd always been an extraordinary soldier who'd never left anyone behind. He had every confidence that she had gotten the job done. She'd pulled his ass out of the fire more times than he could count, though her audacious combat tactics usually made sure that he always paid the favor back. Her recklessness, enthusiasm, and youth had triggered Lard Nar's protective instincts when they'd first met (he'd always suspected she was much younger than she claimed, but he never called her out on it) and she had been his "little sister" ever since. She had proved herself in combat, regardless of her age, and eventually outgrew her strange compulsion to charge headlong into the enemy. He'd never forget the image of Lulu tossing two grenades at the same time, running toward the explosion as she fired her automatic weapon wildly. Lard Nar had literally grabbed her collar from behind, yanking her toward him as he inquired what in the hell she was doing.
Of course, she had a reason. She'd seen a small group of their squad mates trying to flank the opposing force and decided to provide one hell of a distraction. Lard Nar remembered how furious he was when he learned she'd been successful and they'd forced the enemy to retreat. He'd sat her down for a lecture anyway, insisting that if she was going to do something crazy, she needed to tell him or she was going to get herself killed.
Lulu had changed significantly since the Vortain riots and the loss of her arm. She was more cautious in many ways and took far fewer risks. She had by no means lost that spark of quirky madness that always endeared her to Lard Nar, but she'd learned to use it appropriately. She'd fit in well here, the captain thought, surveying those gathered in the hangar as he turned his focus back to Red and Purple. "We should really get someone working on the quantumspace communication problem." He mused.
Red nodded in agreement, "I'd offer, but I was hoping to help Sally go through the what we found in the Void."
Lard Nar made an agreeable noise, "Of course. I'll find out whether or not Tak would be willing to head up the project."
"If we're done here, I'll head over to the conditioning wing for a while." Purple explained.
"All right, but take it easy." Lard Nar replied, "The doc gave me hell for letting you two go on that mission before you finished your rehab. If you mess yourself up and set back your recovery, none of us will ever hear the end of it."
"Gotcha, captain." Purple answered with a nod, obviously trying to contain his enthusiasm for finally having the opportunity to train. He knew he couldn't do full-contact sparring yet, but there would be no harm in running a simulation or two, just to see which skills would need the most improvement.
Red knew there was something he'd forgotten to mention to the captain, though it did not pertain to the situation at hand. He stared at Lard Nar for a moment, recalling that the information was tangentially related to him, somehow. Suddenly, realization dawned on Red. "Oh, by the way, Nar," He said, "I completely forgot to tell you something before the mission."
"And what would that be?" Lard Nar asked.
Red tried to suppress the smile he felt threatening to betray him, "I got rid of that asshole we had in holding. The one who gave you trouble and had an… altercation with Spleenk."
"Got rid of as in…?" The captain asked warily, taken back by the suddenness with which the information was revealed to him, in addition to the unexpected relief it brought. He was almost shocked that he didn't feel the slightest bit perturbed about the means by which Red might have solved the problem.
"Sent him to a Sewage Treatment Planet with a work order for no less than 500 years."
While Purple hadn't divulged any specific details of Lard Nar's unwanted reunion with his long-time ex, he'd painted a picture sufficient enough to anger Red. It was Spleenk's physical altercation with the other Vortian however, that had cemented his decision to seek revenge on behalf of his friends. Though neither Red nor Purple really knew anything about Speenk's past, there was something about him that made them both feel at ease. He listened well, spoke thoughtfully, and had the rare ability to step away from his personal feelings and achieve an objective viewpoint. He was kind and fair and had never so much as raised his voice in anger since Red had gotten to know him, so it was clear that whatever had driven Spleenk to mercilessly pummel another creature was a serious problem. Red also knew Spleenk was far too rational to dwell after such a violent display and it was unlikely he would seek revenge.
There had been the look he'd seen in Lard Nar's eyes back when they first arrived on Malterra, too. Red knew that look too well. It screamed of exhaustion and emptiness, like a soldier moving listlessly through a minefield as if he hoped for one misplaced, accidental step to end his miserable plight.
Whatever it was had been too personal, too deep for Lard Nar to retaliate against. Purple had only said that the relationship between the captain and the other Vortian hadn't been particularly healthy for Lard Nar's emotional well-being, and that Lard Nar hadn't been interested in rekindling anything. Red had a particular quarrel with people taking advantage of others, especially when it involved preying on things that made one weak and vulnerable. If, perhaps, this incident had occurred at another point in his life, Red might have employed a far more drastic and permanent solution to the problem on Lard Nar's behalf. As it was, Red felt that the non-lethal Sewage Treatment Planet seemed like an appropriate choice.
"…Thank you," the captain managed, "I really… thank you." Lard Nar couldn't decide whether to laugh or cry in thanks. He'd been discovering quite a bit about himself lately, but this was the first time he realized that he truly had no place for his ex in his life. He wasa different person now, and he had people who valued what he'd become in Owaiin's absence. Yes, he'd had an irresponsible lapse in personal judgment, but it only highlighted how incompatible the two of them were, and how far behind he'd left that weak, needy, dependent person Owaiin had made him.
His gratitude was obvious and Red smiled, "I figured he'd feel right at home, being the massive shit that he is."
Lard Nar couldn't contain his laughter and Purple chuckled as he shook his head. Red stood back, rather pleased with himself and enjoyed the simple, brief moment of carefree laughter for as long as it lasted. All too soon, it seemed, their attention was required elsewhere and Red took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself to learn just what they were up against.
He'd known all along it was going to require sacrifice; there was no doubt about that. Irk's brutality was still vivid enough in his memory to keep him properly frightened, but the time he'd spent away from it had made him even more resentful of Them, and he felt a brief surge of anger at the thought of how he and Purple had suffered. How completely and utterly and unforgivably it had changed them, not only physically but also in a way that fundamentally altered the very core of their beings. It was as if two different versions of himself had occupied his body during his life, though he remembered being both just as vividly. He remembered sobbing and shaking in hopelessness, physically sick with his actions just as clearly as he remembered how relieved and smugly satisfied he'd felt watching the Scarlet Junction burn. He often wondered what that made him now. While he tried not to dwell on it too much, he knew he could not allow himself to forget. He owed Them a great debt of pain he didn't think he'd ever be able to repay, but Red was certainly going to try.
Spleenk was heading toward Sally's sort-of office to help organize and make sense of the information obtained in the Void when he heard Tenn attempting to get his attention.
"Hey, Spleenk," Tenn started as she picked up the pace of her step to catch up with the other alien.
He stopped and turned in the direction of her voice, "What do you need?"
"I was wondering if that Chief of Security position had been filled yet." She asked somewhat warily. She'd been childish and defensive with Spleenk when he initially posed the idea, and she couldn't blame him if he'd found someone else to do the job.
Spleenk smiled, "Nope, it's still open. Did you change your mind?"
Tenn looked more relieved and grateful than Spleenk had even seen her. "Yes, that is, if you still want me for the job."
"Of course," he smiled, "the position won't be official until you get clearance from a doctor, but you can start making plans and getting things organized as soon as you want. It's not you; everyone on the command staff needs psych clearance, even me. Even the captain. I'll make you an appointment for tomorrow, if that's ok."
Tenn thought she'd feel offended at the mention of a doctor, and from Spleenk's expression and the way he'd tried to minimize it, she guessed that he shared the sentiment. Surprisingly, Tenn couldn't feel anything other than relief. "Yeah, tomorrow works."
"Great! You should let the captain know you're taking the job; he'll get you set up with personnel rosters and budgeting stuff, which should keep you busy for a while."
"We have a budget?" Tenn asked.
"Yep. How else could we afford all this?" He replied, gesturing to indicate the facility around them.
She considered this and nodded thoughtfully in agreement.
"You should ask 'Nar to fill you in on how it works. If there's anything you need to do your job better, we'll do our best to get it."
Tenn nodded, "Thanks, Spleenk… you know, for everything."
Spleenk's expression indicated that her thanks were unnecessary, "You made the decision; I had nothing to do with it."
She gave him a nod that conveyed her understanding and gratitude, "Still. Thank you."
Spleenk smiled warmly, "You're welcome."
He was glad that Tenn had changed her mind. She really was the best person for the job and he knew she'd do it well, but most importantly Spleenk knew that everyone would need to be at his or her absolute best to face whatever lay ahead. He was reasonably confident that their hunch about the Void Prison's true purpose was correct and hoped that the information they'd obtained would give them the advantage they needed.
He frowned once Tenn had turned the corner and out of view. He couldn't shake his concern over the historical context Grel had provided them. Whatever they were planning had been thousands of years in the making, and he was frightened by how patient They'd been. Most people could barely tolerate the harrowing interval it took to cook microwaved popcorn. They had waited, and they had done so deliberately. Whatever their plan, there was some reason it couldn't have been executed until now. So why? And even if the resistance discovered Their plan, they couldn't possibly prepare for all the contingencies. It worried him.
There was something in that train of thought his mind was stuck on. They had waited so long… how the hell had they survived? They couldn't all be the original group, staying alive by the same means Gil did, could they? He supposed it wouldn't be hard, though. People went missing all the time. Maybe Gil wanted willing surrogates, but that wasn't necessarily gospel for the rest of his people. How were there so many of them, then? Did he have a separate hatchery? No, that wasn't right. If they did, they would've implemented it a long time ago. They'd been at this too long and they were far too intelligent not to think of something that obvious. Maybe he recruited those in whom he saw potential and were susceptible to his ideology (whatever the fuck it was). Spleenk figured it had to be a hell of a sales pitch. "Join us and kill your own people in pursuit of my thousand-year-old agenda!" just didn't seem like it could possibly go over well with anyone. Then again, he thought with morbid amusement, he supposed everyone needed a hobby. Maybe it offered great health benefits.
Spleenk sighed. He hoped that by the end of the day, at least some of his blanks would be filled.
Dib didn't think he could bear another minute on the shuttle with twelve dead bodies, even if they weren't in sight, and he had no idea how he was going to make it through the next forty minutes without having a huge nervous breakdown in the middle of the bridge. His hands were shaking and had been since he fired the shot that killed the last Irkwatch officer, but he hadn't taken notice of it. Zim however, had observed that the boy was not well but sensed that it would be inappropriate to inquire about the nature of his troubles until they had some privacy.
Had he been his old self, Zim would have used this moment to flaunt his superiority and demoralize Dib. He no longer felt the urge to do that; instead, he felt something that was almost… concern (as disgusting as it was to admit). Though the alien still had his reservations about the human, he knew that Dib had probably saved them all by lying so well back on Tauron. While Zim certainly did not doubt GIR's ability to cause a significant diversion, he knew that plan carried serious risks and a clean getaway would have been very unlikely. He'd analyzed the thousands of possible outcomes the mission might have had, but in each one where the back-up plan became necessary someone always died.
If the mission had unfolded as it did and Dib hadn't been able to smooth-talk the guard, he would've been killed. The guard was too close and Dib was unarmed. GIR and Mimi would have been too far away, and neither would have had a clean shot from where they stood. They would have investigated Dib's species and found him in Zim's reports. Earth would probably have been destroyed and Irk's suspicions would have been raised considerably.
If security had decided to conduct an inspection of the shuttle, they all would have been killed, without question. Zim knew his identity was a liability, and while one could theoretically change his or her Pak ID, there was no way to forge an ID record in the Irken population database. It would bring up an automatic error code when scanned, which would force the Pak into sleep mode so an investigation could be conducted. Using a dead Irken's ID yielded the same results, with a greater degree of suspicion and severe punishment. Irk typically wouldn't even bother with an investigation in the latter instance, reasoning that an Irken who'd been declared dead certainly couldn't be alive, and remedied the situation by deactivating the Pak in question completely.
All things considered, the Dib was largely responsible for the mission's success. Zim reminded himself that he too played no small part, and a satisfied smile formed on his lips. He'd done excellent work giving the breaching pod a chase, and he'd come up with the idea to divert power to the quantum engines to speed up their escape. He'd even been able to use GIR as a tactical advantage.
The issue with GIR was really just a matter of knowing how to communicate with him. Of course, the robot couldn't be expected to maintain any activity for longer than eight minutes without getting distracted, but he could be useful and Zim was glad. Glancing at the robot in question, Zim found him curled up next to the control panel, asleep. All the excitement had either knocked GIR out or Mimi had put him in standby mode again. He was both annoyed and curious as to how she'd managed that, and though much about him had changed, Zim was still stubborn, and he certainly wasn't going to vindicate her by asking.
Somehow, the unexpected Irkwatch vessel attack had inspired a new confidence in the small, former food service drone. He'd hated the siege while it was happening but now he felt good. He'd been useful and accomplished his objective, and everyone was still breathing. He'd done well, and for the first time in what felt like eons, he was proud of himself and had a reason to be.
"Exiting quantumspace in five, four, three…" Mimi explained in a calm, even voice. She hadn't thought to give an advanced warning about seatbelts or other safety precautions, so the ship's occupants were thoroughly jostled about as the vehicle entered normal space.
Zim sighed and shook his head, reactivating their communications equipment. Once everything was online, he contacted the captain.
Sally breathed a drooling sigh that required no translation to convey her dismayed frustration. Spleenk grew concerned upon hearing the sound as he entered the room, prompting him to immediately inquire as to what had happened.
"There's lots of information here… yottabytes worth. We thought it would be best to narrow down the kind of files we're looking for, and then run a program to find information about the stuff we know, like the inoculations, weapons blueprints, and that list of planets you gave us a while back." Urr explained.
Spleenk paused to remember. He'd almost forgotten that he'd even looked into the planets Irk had demolished and rebuilt in order to look for a pattern. He hoped that cross-referencing the list with this new information would yield some sort of answer, either confirming or disproving Red's hypothesis about the planets being mock "safe zones" They intended to obliterate. "Sounds good." Spleenk replied, "What's the problem?"
Sally sighed again, Urr echoing the sound, as she pointed in the direction of a very tall red-eyed Irken, glaring daggers at a computer screen.
Spleenk sighed as he scratched the back of his head, "He's trying to go through everything manually, isn't he?"
Sally nodded in agreement and Urr just shrugged, at a loss for what to do.
Spleenk took a deep breath to organize his thoughts before he approached the workstation where Red was sitting. It was clear that Red did not want to be disturbed and found Spleenk's presence stressful, no matter how much he generally enjoyed the other's company.
"We both know this is a pretty dumb idea." Spleenk said. He didn't bother with the pretense of asking what Red was doing or what his motivations were; Spleenk already knew, and he did not think Red would appreciate being treated like a child.
"Spleenk, we don't even know what we're looking for. We've got no idea what the hell is in all this data, and we can't afford to miss anything."
"If the entire resistance sat down and did nothing but comb through this all day, every day, we'd die of old age long before we ever got anything meaningful out of it. Let Sally run her software to make some sense out of this stuff. Then we'll go through it manually."
Red was frustrated, bordering on upset, and gave a defeated sigh, "I can't just wait, Spleenk."
"Purple would offer an innuendo that suggests otherwise."
Speechless for a moment, Red couldn't prevent the half smile, half smirk from forming on his lips, "…Yeah, he probably would." He answered with mild amusement.
Grateful that the mood had lightened somewhat, Spleenk offered a comforting expression, "Listen, I know how hard it is for you to give up control right now, and I know what this means to you, but you need to understand that no one on our side of the fight is going to let these bastards have any advantage. They're going to pay for what they've done."
Red examined Spleenk for a moment, somewhat surprised by the raw sincerity in his voice. Red had always known that everyone had their own reasons for joining the resistance, and he was aware that they were largely unpleasant. He never wanted to know specifics, which suited everyone just fine since they had no desire to divulge the details of their personal tragedies. He supposed he still needed to be reminded of that sometimes. He was not the only one who'd suffered terribly and wanted revenge, and there was something about Spleenk's manner that forced Red to take him completely seriously; in that moment, Red genuinely believed that Spleenk would stop at nothing to bring the people who'd hurt him and his partner to swift and painful justice.
"You can keep reading through… what is that, a maintenance log?" Spleenk asked, squinting to see what was displayed on the monitor.
Red sighed, finally conceding. "I was hoping it might be some sort of code, but… yeah, it's a maintenance log."
"I promise we'll let you know when we find something." His voice was firm and reassuring. "You're welcome to stay, of course, if you want to."
"No, you're right. I'll just make myself crazy if I stay here." Red paused thoughtfully for a moment before he resumed his speech, "Why do I keep doing this, Spleenk?"
The other alien did not have the heart to tell his friend "you're trying to deal with the terrifying lack of control we have over our lives and the lives of our loved ones," so he settled for"Old habits. You can't help it."
Red sighed, "Yeah. You're probably right."
As soon as they'd landed safely and the air pressure of the hangar stabilized, Zim was greeted by a very happy Lard Nar and an anxious Tak. The female Irken gave a huge sigh of relief when she saw Mimi exiting the craft with a proud expression on her robotic features.
"Mission accomplished, Mistress!" Mimi explained in an excited manner uncharacteristic of her, from what Zim had seen. Tak herself appeared genuinely enthusiastic as her SIR unit relayed the details of the mission.
Zim knew he had a certain… kinship with GIR, so it shouldn't have surprised him to see Tak and Mimi share a similar fondness. He recalled making various plots with GIR over the years, and wondered if other Irkens had this sort of bond with their robot companions. Tenn never spoke about her SIR unit, which had been destroyed on Meekrob, and Zim supposed he understood why. Perhaps the need for companionship was more deeply rooted in Irken biology than he'd previously suspected.
Dib made his best effort to push his thoughts out of his mind and appear normal as he stepped out of the shuttle. He almost marveled at Lulu's nonchalance when telling the dockworker that the vessel would need a cleaning crew, as if somehow the twelve dead bodies aboard were equivalent to a coffee stain. Kaff seemed dazed, but Dib couldn't tell if he was still bothered by the flashbang or whether he was genuinely upset.
Truthfully, Kaff was terribly confused and couldn't decide how he should feel, which made him thoroughly uncomfortable. Though he'd trained all his life for something like this, the real thing was so much different. He'd worked in emergency medicine and seen the terrible effects of war, but never been the cause of them. He understood that what he'd done was necessary, but that did very little to ease his conscience.
"This is Kaff." Lulu's voice said as she introduced him to the captain. "He thinks too much. Kaff, this is Lard Nar."
She was using his name again, so he supposed this was important. Kaff nodded and extended his hand toward the captain, who shook it firmly. "Nice to meet you; welcome to the resistance. You're one of us now, so what's ours is yours, and if you need anything just ask. We're like one huge dysfunctional family."
As if to prove this, GIR began to crawl across the floor shouting, "Moose!" until he exhausted himself in a fit of giggles.
"You'll get used to it." The captain replied dryly. "Anyway," he sighed, "we'll get you settled so you have a few hours to relax before we debrief."
"You got room for me too, or you running things Crowd Street style?" Lulu asked in a joking tone.
Lard Nar laughed in spite of the cringe that developed over his features, smacking a hand to his forehead, "Fucking Crowd Street. Almost the worst week of my life."
"Aw, ten people holed up in a basement the size of the airlock ain't your style anymore?"
"Please don't remind me… I've almost forgotten how awful that was. And it wasn't even a basement, it was some kind of storm shelter."
Lulu kept laughing, "So, it's maybe a year into the Vortain Riots, and it's fuckin' freezing. Our unit is makin' a supply run up north 'cause some genius decided it'd be a good idea to keep bulk supplies in a fuckin' glacier."
Nar sighed, interrupting Lulu, "It was cave, Lu."
She rolled her eyes, "Glacier-cave. Cavern. Somethin' ya couldn't see on a satellite that could trick the thermal scanners."
"That's actually pretty brilliant." Kaff offered.
"Yeah, it's great in theory, but it ain't exactly practical in the middle of the north Vort winter. We couldn't risk flyin' a transport since that whole region had been bombed to hell and back, so we took a couple of rollers."
Kaff nodded.
"So we're on our way and all of a sudden, this huge storm rolls in. We're freezin' our asses off lookin for shelter in what's left of the rubble, and all we can see is a storm shelter. We figure, it's better than waitin' in the roller so we get down there. It's cramped and chilly and the plumbing don't work, but we're soldiers, so we hunker down thinkin' it'll be a day or so."
"About five days later, the ice on the door finally cracks and we're free. Easily one of the top four worst moments of that war." Lard Nar explained before checking his watch, which had begun to beep insistently, "Ah, shit. I've got a thing. Let me grab somebody who can help you find your rooms."
Shloonktapooxis was eager to help, and did so cheerfully before abandoning the two newest arrivals to continue his business. Lulu had noticed that something was off about Kaff's disposition since they landed, and gave a long sigh.
"Alright; what's the matter, Sunbeam?"
Kaff hesitated for a moment, "I just… I've never killed anyone before. I mean, I've lost patients, but I never meant to kill them. Back on the shuttle, I did it like it was nothing. I know we had to, and I understand that they were gonna kill us, but… it just… it feels wrong."
"We did everythin' we could to avoid a fight. They attacked and tried to kill us; shit, one of 'em put a gun to your head. I'm sorry if I seem like a jerk, but I ain't losin' sleep on account of that sorry sonofabitch."
Kaff understood her point. He couldn't beat himself up over self-defense. It was all right that he felt responsible; that was how it should be. He recognized the part he played in the death of the Irkwatch officers, but he hadn't forced them to fire. They made their choices, just as he made his.
"Like I said before, Sunbeam: I ain't got much, but what I got, I aim to keep."
Kaff paused in thought for a moment, "So… you've got me?"
"Well, ya ain't dead yet."
Dib had snuck quietly back to his room once they'd been dismissed by the captain. He took a deep breath and held his head in his hands, preparing to feel the full weight of his situation about to break over him with the force of a tsunami. Everything inside him felt as if it were about to rip open; his guts twisted painfully as he winced, thinking he might be sick. He braced himself as if anticipating a painful kick to the stomach – and then, just before the metaphor would have landed, there was an impatient series of knocks on the door. Dib flinched and stood puzzled for a moment as the enormous, looming awfulness in his mind and the urge to vomit began to ebb. Both were still there, just less immediate. Again, the knocks came and Dib dumbly made his way to the door.
"Finally," Zim sighed as he stepped across the threshold and into Dib's room, obviously irritated by having to wait, "your slow moving meat-sticks are not acceptable."
Dib had no idea what was going on. "…Meat-sticks?"
"Legs, Filthy Dirt Child. Your feeble human brain appears more confused than usual."
"I just, I… what are you doing here?"
Zim faltered for a moment and let out a long sigh, "You were… helpful to Zim when all this started. I believe you said I was "mopey." Since you are "mopey" now, Zim will try to be useful."
"I'm fine, I'm not moping over anything."
"I'll never understand the ability of humans to say one thing and do another. What did you tell me before we left that wretched ball of filth called Earth? It's ok not to be ok, or something?"
Dib wasn't pleased at Zim turning his own words against him, but he took a deep breath and remembered that the alien was actually trying to help for once. Had this conversation taken place back on Earth, Dib might have lashed out in anger and shoved Zim away. Now, Zim was the only familiar thing he had left. If he hadn't felt so wretchedly despondent, he might've laughed at the irony. "Yeah. I said that."
Though Zim was not blessed with patience, he suffered through the long, awkward silence as Dib tried to collect his thoughts. He felt he owed the human a debt of some sort, and that perhaps he could repay it this way. Zim was also aware that he was about as well-versed in emotions as GIR was in impulse-control, but he would try.
"What was it like the first time you killed somebody?"
Zim was startled, unaware that the situation on the shuttle had required such extreme actions on the human's part. As Zim thought back through the long trail of death and destruction he'd left behind him throughout his life, he felt a sudden wave of self-loathing. "I don't think I felt anything. In my mind, the way it used to be, death just was something happening to somebody else, and nobody mattered but me." Zim explained, "Now, things are… well, it's very different." He finished quietly.
"You can't blame yourself for that, Zim. You weren't you… well, this you, the proper you. You were programmed not to care, so it's not your fault you didn't. I don't have that excuse. I knew exactly what I was doing and I didn't even hesitate. I just saw him point the gun at Kaff and shot."
Zim gave Dib a somewhat confused look, "And suppose you didn't. What if you had taken that extra second to pause? Kaff's dead, Lulu's dead, and so are you. I'm dead in that scenario." He cocked his head, thinking out loud, "Mimi probably makes it."
"She does seem to have quite a knack for survival." Dib shrugged, not really wanting to admit that the rest of Zim's statement had made a valid point.
"You stopped her from turning off the life support systems on the other ship, remember? I was too busy flying to pay attention to what she was doing. I wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't said something. So you did save some people."
"I just… I wish we only had to fight the assholes hurting everybody, the ones pulling the strings. It's not fair that some brainwashed Irken who might've been a decent, reasonable guy without the Pak had to die because a bunch of lunatics made rules that said he had to kill us."
Zim sighed, having no real answer for the boy. "…I don't think anything is fair. But I do know that Kaff has a chance to save thousands of people because you took that shot, so Zim orders you to cease this mopey thing, Worm Baby."
Dib finally cracked a smile, and couldn't help but feel a little less awful. "Fair point."
"Of course it is." Zim replied, "Tsk, your fragile human mind has already forgotten the majesty that is Zim. I would think you'd be basking in my obvious superiority by now, Dib-thing."
Dib sighed sarcastically, "Oh yes, Zim. You're a thing of legends."
"I shall require a ballad detailing my heroic exploits! At the very least, a folk song."
Dib had to laugh at the thought, and his former Irken nemesis appeared satisfied.
Red lingered in the doorway between the entrance of the Conditioning Wing and the hand-to-hand combat training room his partner was currently using. It was deserted, with the exception of the tall, violet-eyed Irken who remained completely engrossed in his training simulation. There was an impossible grace in Purple's movements; even the most sudden flinch did not appear jerky or awkward. It was obvious to Red that his partner was much slower than he'd have liked to be, and he was still having trouble adjusting to the subtle changes that had been made to his body with regard to the elongation of his arms and spine.
Red allowed himself to seethe bitterly for a moment, able to guess how deeply that realization must have hurt Purple, before taking a long breath and letting it go. The anger did not drift too far; Red kept these things tethered to him like balloons on string, far enough away to remain out of sight but close enough to ensure that he would not forget. It was his hope that he would cut himself free of them once he'd exacted revenge on the people responsible for the tragedies they'd endured.
Still, in spite everything, Red was considerably impressed with Purple's performance. His form was as excellent as it had ever been, save a slight slouch, and from the way he'd just knocked the simulated opponent out, it appeared that Purple's instincts were still sharp as well.
"You don't seem too out of practice." Red commented in an approving tone as he crossed the room.
Purple gave a half smile as he caught his breath, "Should've beat it four moves ago. Would've, if I wasn't so damn slow and overextending my reach."
"Well I'm certainly not going to complain about the size of your reach."
Purple couldn't suppress the small smirk that formed on his lips. "I suppose it has its advantages." He wiped the sweat from his face with a towel before asking, "How's Sally doing with the data we got in the Void?"
"There's too much of it to go through manually," Red explained with a small trace of frustration, "so they're running it through some software to see what comes up."
"I figured. How much of their spam did you end up reading through before you realized it was a bad idea?"
Red sighed, grumbling to himself. He was obviously displeased that Purple had been right once again.
Purple gave a light chuckle, "Stubborn fuck."
"Laugh it up, Bullshit Cretin."
"You wanna go a few rounds?"
"Tell me that's an innuendo."
Purple rolled his eyes, "C'mon. Spar with me. One round, no contact."
Red scoffed playfully, "No contact? Where's the fun in that?"
Purple gave Red a teasing smile, "It's ok; I'd be intimidated, too."
"Intimidated? Please, you know the Doc would kill us if he found out."
"You've broken more serious rules from much more dangerous people. You never could beat me in a fair fight."
Red gave a mock laugh, "I've beaten you plenty of times."
Purple nodded with a grin, "When I wanted to lose."
Though he knew his partner was a better fighter, Red had always held his own quite well. He suspected that Purple was trying to provoke his competitive nature, but couldn't help wondering if there was any truth to his partner's claim. His curiosity, as always, got the best of him, just like Purple knew it would. "Bullshit. Fine, let's go. Right now, no contact or Pak legs."
Purple grinned as he tossed the towel aside and raised his fists, assuming a fighting stance. Red had never been more grateful for muscle memory than when his body found a familiar stance to settle into without awkwardness or too many adjustments. He knew he was probably going to lose, but felt a surprising spark of competitive energy when he noticed his partner's eagerness. Purple gave a nod, indicating he was ready, and waited for Red to acknowledge it with his own.
Red took a deep breath. He shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and nodded back. They sized one another up for a moment, both waiting for the other to make the first move. Purple knew Red was familiar with the tactics he liked to use, so he stepped out of his comfort zone; he dropped his right shoulder slightly, extending his left arm in a jab. Red successfully avoided the hit by shifting away from it, which was exactly what Purple had planned for. Taking a swift step with his right foot to breach Red's personal space, he brought his right arm to strike the middle of Red's body. There was no force behind the blow; Purple's fist simply rested against Red's stomach, but Red knew that in real life such a hit would've knocked the wind out of him. Purple's eyes lit up excitedly and Red's expression tightened as he took a step back.
"It's no fun if you're gonna let me win." Purple teased.
"Just warming up." Red replied as he collected himself and nodded at Purple, indicating he was ready to start again.
It was several rounds before Red found his movements becoming more fluid and confident. Once he stopped thinking about it so deeply, his reactions were quicker and he was able to block and counter his partner effectively. He supposed that this must've been why Purple loved combat so much; it was spontaneous and unpredictable. Though Purple was much quicker to adapt than his partner, Red was pleased to discover that his intimate knowledge of Purple had made him a vastly more equal opponent than he'd been in their youth. There were subtle things he noticed now, small shifts in Purple's body language that he hadn't recognized when they were younger, that helped him anticipate Purple's movements.
Red eventually managed to win a few rounds, though he suspected Purple's growing fatigue may have been the reason for his success. Still, that wouldn't prevent him from gloating. "Your whole 'letting me win' thing was total bullshit." Red commented with a satisfied grin.
"Of course it was." Purple replied with a laugh, "I mean, I definitely lost on purpose a few times, but it wasn't a habit."
"Just can't get enough of me, can you?"
"It would certainly be a sad day for your sex life if I did."
Red hadn't expected Purple's retort, and just couldn't come up with a witty reply. Purple took notice and laughed.
"You suck, you know that?" Red remarked.
"Quite often and enthusiastically. Never heard you complain before."
Red was surprised by Purple's sudden candor. There was a spark of youthful mischief in his eyes and a playful grin on his lips. Red couldn't find him anything other than irresistible. "I'd be fully prepared to violate communal gym shower etiquette right now if you weren't so damn loud."
Purple laughed, "I'll have to let 'Nar know that in spite of all his complaints about our noise level, he ought to be grateful that it's prevented us from defiling the training wing."
"Don't pretend you're not just as bad as I am." Red teased.
"Maybe worse." Purple replied suggestively, "But only for you."
Though they had spoken of leaving the past behind them, it was a task much easier in theory than practice. Looking at his partner's wry, carefree grin, Red suspected he might just be able to do that after all. It would come slowly, of course. He would gradually ease his himself free of the history that held them hostage a little at a time until he'd finally separate himself from it. One by one, the memories of guilt and terror would cease to gnaw at his soul. He would always be sorry for what he'd done and been forced to do in the past, but now, he believed that he might actually be able to accept it. He would remember, but those memories would not occupy the same space as they currently did in his mind. They would stop haunting every action and gesture, and Red would be certain of who he was.
Red had never really thought about the way he'd defined himself until now. He'd served as a puppet for a dangerous and violent man for so many years, and knew he'd lost himself deeply in the process. He was still discovering who he was outside of the identity that had been forced on him for the majority of his adult life. He was adapting rather well, but he knew there was much that still needed to be addressed in the area of personal growth. Red had always assumed that they'd die when they outlived their usefulness as Tallests and never really considered that they might have a future beyond it. The concept still seemed a bit foreign to him, but moments like this made him genuinely hopeful.
"What, no witty reply?" Purple teased, "You're really off your game today, Sweetheart."
"Maybe I'm just letting you win." Red smirked.
Purple considered Red's reply. "Well-played. We'll call it even."
Tenn waved at Red and Purple as she passed them on her way into the training wing. She couldn't help but smile at them; they seemed so happy. Things had been so heavy between them on the previous mission, and she was glad to see it had eased. It had been difficult for her to maintain composure inside the Void prison after she'd found out it was run by men similar to the one that had nearly killed her. She couldn't imagine how awful it must have been for Red and Purple.
Still, what mattered was that they'd come out of it stronger. If they could do it, there was no reason to suggest that Tenn would fail to overcome her own fears. She lifted her sword with little effort now, which made her feel slightly more powerful. It had been more difficult than she'd expected to find an instruction manual for sword fighting, but she thought she was become fairly decent at it. She'd been practicing for nearly ten minutes when she noticed she was no longer alone in the room.
Buir stood quietly, observing her technique with an interested expression.
She shrugged as she made eye contact and asked, "What?"
"You are new at this, are you not?"
Tenn sighed. Well, there went her ego boost. "Yeah. Just picked it up a few weeks ago. Well, pulled it out of me, really."
Buir looked interested, "With medical assistance, I assume?"
"Nope."
Buir cringed, "That was a bad decision. You are very lucky to have survived."
Tenn held out the sword to Buir, "I wasn't going very far with this stuck through me."
The Paladin seemed to muse over this internally before agreeing with her, "You have a point. I concede. Should you find yourself with a puncture or stab wound in the future, I would advise against removing the object. In many cases, this will actually help slow the bleeding. It also keeps the wound as closed as possible and reduces the risk of infection."
Tenn considered Buir's advice. Though she sincerely hoped never to experience a stab wound again, she knew the odds were not in her favor. "Thanks, I guess."
"The best training in the world won't help you if you're bleeding to death, is what my kennari used to say." He mused before nodding at Tenn, "Would you like me to teach you how to use it properly? Your sword?"
Tenn supposed she'd noticed that Buir carried a sheathed sword, but never processed that he might know how to use it. "Um, yeah, sure. That'd be great."
Buir appeared the most enthusiastic she'd ever seen him. He hadn't really displayed much in terms of emotion since his arrival, but there was no doubt that this was something he enjoyed. "It's such a rare discipline; almost no one has the patience or skill for it anymore. Though, we have a saying back on the planet where I trained." He smiled.
"And what's that?"
"Anyone who goes into battle without a sword is improperly armed." He explained, drawing his blade.
Buir's sword was nothing shy of a work of art, Tenn thought. Someone had evidently poured a great many long hours into forging his incredibly detailed weapon.
Buir smiled, "It took me almost ten years to finish." He explained. "It's iridum. Lightest, strongest metal in the universe."
"You made that?!"
"I have been Mei's guardian nearly 40 standard years. It helped to pass the time." He explained as if it were no great accomplishment, "Now, first thing's first. Lead with your left leg and hold the sword in your right hand."
Tenn did as he instructed and he walked around her, nudging her shoulders and adjusting her arms.
"There are four basic longsword guards. The first is called ochs, or ox. Draw your weapon up and to the outside, and then aim the point at your opponent's throat. Of course, the angle may change depending on who you are facing."
Tenn brought the hilt of the sword to head level, mirroring the example Buir provided. She felt incredibly awkward, but Buir's approving glance indicated that she was doing something correctly.
"Good. Your blade should be slightly diagonal so you can thrust straight, turn to slice on a downward diagonal, or pull back and cut from underneath. This position protects well, but it is not as stable as others. You will want to practice holding it until it becomes comfortable."
"How long is that?" Tenn asked, grunting slightly. She felt completely contorted and uncomfortable, and had begun to rethink Buir's offer.
"My kennari would've said 'until you don't need to ask that question.'" He replied with a smile. "Hold it for five minutes, if you can. Then we'll move on to the second guard."
She thought about the Irken who'd stabbed her, and Tenn grit her teeth and took a deep breath. If she was planning to use this sword, she'd learn to do it right. Her muscles ached but she refused to give into fatigue. There was something intensely rewarding about it the longer she held the position. She'd always pushed herself to be her absolute best and this was a welcome challenge.
He said nothing for a long moment as he stared pensively at the monitor displaying the dead apparatus that had previously stored Grel's consciousness. "Tell me again. What, exactly, happened?"
"Th-the machine, well, it must've shorted out or, or blown a fuse." A voice struggling to remain calm replied.
"So, what you're saying is: you don't know. Our only means of finding that wretched bitch is dead, and you can't tell me how it happened."
The camera, now facing the occupants of the room, showed him nothing useful. They squirmed awkwardly under his gaze, trying to maintain emotionless expressions.
"What are you standing around for?!" He barked. Gesturing toward the two Irkens furthest to the left, he ordered, "Check the video logs in the control room!"
"Y-yes, sir!" They replied, making a hasty retreat.
"May… may I address you, sir?"
"Speak, Vas."
"It's not my place to question you, I know that, but… you haven't shown an interest in Grel for quite some time."
"It was your job to extract the information he had, if I remember correctly."
"If… I may be so bold as to offer a possible explanation?"
"Go ahead."
"Have you considered the possibility that Grel was lying, and perhaps Iris is dead? We tried everything to make him talk, even methods you deemed excessive, and we got nothing."
The Irken on the other end of the call seemed to consider this, "I suppose you have a point. You could even argue that if she was alive, she likely would've made herself known by now and done all she could to stop our progress. However, if you knew her as I did… if you had watched her betray our kindness and murder us, and her only son, without remorse, you might not be satisfied with speculation."
"I understand, sir." Vas replied passionately, "I'm on it."
"Good. Let me know what you find." Gil disconnected the call and exhaled a long, deep breath. He knew that even if she were still alive, there was little she could do to interfere with his plans in a meaningful way, but that wasn't the issue. The memory of Iris's betrayal still stung, even now. He did not have much time to dwell on it, though, as his screen flashed with an urgent alert. He answered, and did not take the perturbed face on the other end as a good omen.
"Yes?" He answered as one of the two Irkens he'd sent to the control room appeared on the screen.
"There's no sign of the mainframe technicians, Sir. W-we also lost video surveillance."
"Initiate a lockdown. Find them immediately."
Gil ran through the situation in his mind and nothing seemed to add up. He couldn't imagine anyone who maintained the Void prison betraying him, but it was the only explanation that made any sort of sense. The Tallest were ignorant about anything that went on there, as were their dead predecessors. Iris certainly couldn't have known; she'd gone into hiding before the prison was constructed. Pethra had been on Vort when it was destroyed, and even if he hadn't, he had no way to communicate any information he might have had left in his scrambled little brain. Not that he really knew anything about Gil's plans to begin with, and neither did Grel. His first order of business after Irk had been rebuilt was to destroy the Yu Jian, and any other race that had not yet forced itself into extinction and could remember a time before the planet burned.
No, Gil was almost certain that this had been an act of betrayal. What troubled him most, though, was that he couldn't figure out what they intended to accomplish by killing Grel. It hadn't sabotaged his endgame or the process by which he intended to achieve it; hell, it didn't effect their mission at all. Grel was a relic from a dead age everyone but he and a few choice others had forgotten. It was such a petty, personal attack it hardly seemed to make sense.
Spleenk's com alerted him that the preliminary analysis of the Void-data was finally complete. Immediately, he pulled up Sally's report and examined her initial findings.
It was an overwhelming amount of data, and he foresaw a disconcertingly massive quantity of caffeine in his immediate future. Hell, even if he stayed up all night, there was no way he'd get through even half of the material in front of him.
The smallest hint of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he hesitated only for a brief moment before he activated his communicator and dialed the captain.
"Hey Spleenk! Did you look at Sally's data yet?"
Spleenk smiled. Lard Nar always took the time tosay "hello" to him, even when he didn't have to. "Just pulled it up now. That's why I called. There's way too much of it to go through by ourselves. I was thinking that maybe if we divided the work between us, we might actually make some progress."
"You have no idea what a relief it is to hear you suggest that." He said, though Spleenk was pretty sure he could guess by the obvious change in the captain's voice.
"Are you in your office now?"
"No, I'm outside the medical ward… well, I suppose everything is a medical ward here. You know what I mean. I'll come to you. Did you eat yet?"
Spleenk paused thoughtfully for a moment and his stomach growled. "I guess not." He said.
"I'll grab some food for us on my way over."
"Thanks, Nar! See you in a few!"
"See you in a few."
Spleenk hung up and mostly failed at ignoring the giddy excitement that bubbled inside his chest. He took a deep breath before forcing himself to focus on the data in front of him and suddenly, he felt a creeping sort of dread swelling in place of his previous enthusiasm as he thumbed through the tags Sally's software had ascribed to various files and folders.
He knew he'd promised Red (and by extension, Purple) he would share everything he discovered, but seeing a folder dedicated solely to them made him concerned about his ability to keep his word. Out of morbid curiosity, he touched the icon and the folder's contents appeared in a neat, orderly list. The files were titled with a date in Irken Standard Notation and a concise label, like "armor_fitting", "r_compound_211", "p_jaw_reconstruction" and so on. The latter must have been to identify separate events from the same day, as he noticed several files shared the same date.
He could easily derive a conclusion about the contents of the files from the context clues each title provided, and his stomach churned at the thought. Still, he hadn't expected They would keep records of something like this, and it might give him some insight into their behavior. He might be able to use the written contents to identify individual writing styles and begin separating Them into the individual entitles that comprised the whole. He had done this sort of thing before, and while he knew profiling was never an exact science, he'd been quite good at his job in the life he'd had before this. Spleenk had studied some thoroughly depraved people in the past and this was no different, he told himself.
Deep down, he knew he was lying, but needed the courage to do what he knew was necessary. With renewed resolve, he opened the first document in the list, which referenced the armor.
Spleenk didn't know why he'd even bothered to hope for anything less than a meticulous, precise account of the process Red and Purple had endured to fit their armor, but he had hoped anyway. They had documented everything, down to the psi it took to shatter their sternums. Notes regarding Red and Purple's responses to each process went as far differentiating between a shriek and a howl, and the corresponding decibel level. The prose was terse, sterile, and scientific, and each section contained references to procedural outlines, diagrams, photographs, and even time-stamps corresponding to a recording of the entire episode. It read like a punctilious sociopath's lab report and Spleenk was stunned by both their thoroughness and depravity.
Spleenk felt a fist close around his heart at the sight of Purple's face contorted in what could not be mistaken for anything but sheer agony and terror. There was something else about it, though, something he couldn't shake and it would not let him turn away despite his horror. The metaphorical grip on his heart squeezed tighter and turned to ice when he finally realized that what disturbed him the most was how young Purple looked.
He knew Irkens physically matured faster than most other species, and courtesy of the Pak, were programmed from birth with all the knowledge of an adult, so an 80-year-old Irken might be someone else's mid-30s. Purple couldn't have been more than five or six years older than Senna was when she died in that picture.
"Fuck," Spleenk thought, "they were just kids."
For his own sake, Spleenk disabled the images with a shaking hand and skimmed the text for anything that might be useful to him. He didn't know whether to be thankful or upset when he found it, because it meant he'd be reading through more of these grisly documents.
Behavioral Notes: preexisting relationship observed, obvious emotional attachment, esp. in Red. Will allow it to continue for future leverage, as the more dependent they are on each other, the less resistance we are likely to encounter. Subjects are clearly defiant and unlikely to respond well to conditioning, but orders are to implement it anyway.
It was subtle, and anyone who wasn't Spleenk might have missed it. In any other circumstance, he might've been proud of that. Instead, he numbly copied the text to a blank page for later reference before closing the file and struggling to calm his pulse.
Once he'd managed to steady himself, he selected the file labeled as "p_jaw_reconstruction". One glance destroyed his brief composure. He felt bile rising in his throat and was very glad he hadn't eaten yet. It was too much, even with the images off. He could only bear to skim the beginning before he had to turn away and close his eyes. He reached for the trashcan, drawing it close as he fought the nausea that threatened to overwhelm him.
Lard Nar was terribly confused at the sight of Spleenk looking pallid and haggard, hunched wretchedly over the office wastebasket. "Shit, Spleenk, are you okay?!" He asked, quickly dropping the takeaway containers onto the nearest chair so he could run to Spleenk's side.
It was strange being hungry and nauseas at the same time, Spleenk thought idly. "I'm fine," he replied, letting out a long exhale, "that shit is so fucked up." He said, gesturing toward the tablet on his desk.
Lard Nar's expression was suddenly grave, "what'd you find?"
"Everything they did to Red and Purple… it's all there."
Lard Nar didn't have words to respond, and instead rubbed Spleenk's shoulders until the color had returned to his face. Then he picked up the tablet to see what had upset Spleenk so badly.
Spleenk watched as shock dissolved into an expression reminiscent of being punched in the stomach. "Holy shit…" he managed in a voice so utterly disbelieving it might break.
It was one thing to hear these gruesome stories from Red and Purple. Lard Nar had never suspected the extent to which they had watered-down accounts of their torture for himself and the crew. "Agony" was just a word, and though its meaning was nuanced to varying degrees within each person's understanding, everyone could agree it implied that something was at least very painful. The concept did not come close to what his friends had endured. Lard Nar knew now that words never could.
He closed the file and placed the tablet back on the desk before meeting Spleenk's eyes. "We can't let them see this."
Spleenk sighed, "I promised, 'Nar."
"Why would you do that?!"
Spleenk's expression asked if Lard Nar had expected they'd discover something like this, and the captain seemed to understand.
"…They don't need to know what we found."
"Do you think Red isn't going to stumble across it in the shit he does working with Sally and Urr? He's not going to be suspicious about hidden files he's restricted from accessing? Do you really want to be on the receiving end of the conversation when he finds out we lied?"
Lard Nar still looked ill at ease and reluctant to acquiesce.
"I think it's a terrible idea and it'll do way more harm than good, but they deserve the choice. I'm still going to try to talk them out of it, but after what they've been through… I think they deserve the choice."
Lard Nar exhaled in concession, "Why do you have to be right all the time?"
Spleenk gave a genuine if weary smile, "Must be a curse."
"I don't suppose you're still interested in dinner?"
Spleenk shrugged, "I missed breakfast, so I should probably eat something."
"You're far braver than I am." The captain said, handing Spleenk the container of food he'd brought.
Spleenk took a bite and thankfully, the nausea remained at bay. "I think I'm going to run a search to filter out everything but their notes and conclusions. It'll be faster and far less traumatic."
"Are you sure you want to do that?" Lard Nar asked with concern, "You can go through the files related to Vort instead."
Spleenk understood what the other was implying and nodded, "It's okay. I can't afford to miss details that could help us outthink them."
The captain nodded slowly, reluctantly, "…I don't think that's a good idea, Spleenk."
"It has to be me," he said, somewhat detached. "Someone else might get it wrong."
"You might get it wrong, too." There was nothing but softness and concern in his voice, and his expression was genuinely sympathetic. "It's hard to be objective when you're that close to something."
Spleenk grabbed the tablet and pulled up his clipping from the previous report before holding it out to 'Nar. "Tell me what you get from this. What does it tell us that we don't already know?"
Lard Nar studied the short paragraph for a few minutes, "That They knew about Red and Purple's relationship?"
Spleenk shook his head in disagreement, "There's conflict. Whoever wrote this disagreed with the people at the top over conditioning, whatever that was, because they didn't think it would work."
"Why do you have to be so damn good at your job?" The captain asked, half in jest and half regret.
Spleenk shrugged. "I'd make a terrible interior decorator. Just look at this office."
The captain laughed, probably louder and longer than he should have, but the humor was such a relief. "I guess you won't be taking up decoupage with Red, then?"
Spleenk did not expect the sudden burst of laughter that came over him at the mental picture Lard Nar had created, "Where'd you get that idea from?"
"I think it's a running joke between Red and Purple; Purple asked me a while ago what I thought of the idea. It's still just as funny."
"Let me guess: he got all defensive and threatened to do it out of spite."
"Of course he did." The captain replied, his smile remaining even as the laughter subsided.
Spleenk just shook his head in amusement before turning his thoughts back to the situation at hand. "All right, I think I have a compromise you won't hate."
"Let's hear it."
"I'll put my profiling on the backburner. It'll be a side project I can work on while we focus on the weapons, Vort stuff, vaccines, or anything else that might help us right now."
Lard Nar considered, and after a moment, accepted Spleenk's suggestion. "All right. I'll start with Vort. You want to investigate the 'safe-zone' theory?"
Spleenk sighed, "Yes."
"What's wrong?"
Spleenk met the captain's eyes hesitantly, "I'm scared."
Lard Nar took one of Spleenk's hands in both his own, "Me too."
There you have it! The first thing from me in God-knows-how-long! I'll keep updating in case anyone out there still cares!
Love to all,
knockplease