Author's Note: Alas, because I cannot help but see Red and Purple as a couple, this has a somewhat slashy ending. You've been warned!
A Tale of Two Tallest
The history of the Irken race scrolled across the screen of the vid-book, passing by such famous Irkens as Zorg the Impaler, Twadd the Vicious, Scop the Poetic, and at last settling on Grakk the Conqueror. All, with the notable exception of Scop the Poetic, great leaders of the Irken armies. Ptor sighed lustily as he read, imagining the titanic battles fought by these historical Irkens. One day Ptor hoped to make it into the history vid-books himself. With his height, he could easily go far in the Irken army. He was, however, merely a simple Invader, lacking that "go for the jugular" instinct necessary to advance in his society.
Though he might dream of more, Ptor had to admit that his life was a good one. Patrol duty offered plenty of time to plan his future. His squad leader was also highly competent. On the rare occasions the Invaders were sent into battle, Commander Blogh saw to it they always returned with minimal damage. 'Yes,' Ptor decided, reaching for a nutrient bar, 'This is the life.'
"All right, you lazy pus-bag! Attention!" Ptor leapt up immediately, his antennae falling back on his head in proper submission to his superior officer. What Ptor did not count on, however, were his gangly legs getting tangled up with his chair. While Ptor ended p spilling on the floor, Blogh merely stood in the doorway and shook his head in amazement. "Now that's just sad, soldier."
Flushing dark green, Ptor kept his lavender eyes fixed firmly on the floor. Behind Blogh, he could hear two sets of stifled snickers. Great. This would be all over the barracks ship in about an hour. "To your feet, soldier, and stand up straight!" Confused, Ptor obeyed. Normally, he was permitted to hunch down so as not to draw too much attention to himself.
Blogh marched up to Ptor, his step filled with a military spring. Looking up at the young Invader, Blogh grunted thoughtfully, a sound which came from deep in the back of his throat. Setting up the overturned chair, Blogh stood upon it. Even with this added bit of height, Blogh still only came up to Ptor's shoulders. "Well," he at last whispered, a note of respect creeping into his voice. "I've heard tell that the Nova Company has a giant of an Invader among them, but they'll be hard-pressed to find one taller than you. Pack your things, soldier. You leave for Conventia in the morning."
*~*~*~*~*
Conventia, the convention planet, was filled with many young hopefuls. A great day of judgment had come, the time for the old Tallest to step down and a new Almighty Tallest to rise in his place. Ptor knew nothing of this, however. He'd merely been told that he was going to Conventia, so to Conventia he went.
"Oh my!" the Irken operating the teleporter squeaked when Ptor reached the planet's surface. Although the Irken's face was hidden by his uniform, Ptor had no doubt that he was gaping like a squoodlefish. Being accustomed to this sort of reaction, Ptor merely flicked an antenna in greeting. The teleporter operator continued staring until his supervisor appeared.
Taking Ptor in at one quick glance, the supervisor, who barely reached Ptor's chest, dropped his antennae and lowered his gaze. "Sir, if you will follow me, sir, I will take you to the Great Hall, sir."
"Yes," Ptor drawled, trying to puzzle out the supervisor's attitude. Deciding that he was going to have to ask if he was to learn anything, Ptor added, "And perhaps you can tell me what it is I'm doing here."
The smaller Irken skidded to a halt. "Sir, you do not know, sir?" Ptor shook his head, cocking his antennae ever so slightly forward in curiosity. "Sir, this is the Great Judgment, sir. You are here, sir, to determine whether or not you are to be the new Tallest, sir." Ptor opened and shut his mouth in complete amazement. Blogh should have told him something!
As the implications of what was going on sank in, Ptor froze, purple eyes whirling with fear. He couldn't become the next Tallest! He was a simple soldier, not a leader.
Ptor's guide stopped when he noticed that Ptor was not with him. Turning, he spotted Ptor easily and clucked his tongue in disapproval. "Sir, you should not let on that you are afraid, sir. It might give the other candidates ideas, sir. You would not want them to challenge your fitness, sir. Sir, I can see from your insignia that you serve under Commander Blogh, sir. Blogh does not train cowards, sir, nor would he have sent you if he felt that you were unfit, sir. All will be well, sir."
The last of the monologue brought the most comfort to ptor. If Blogh truly thought that Ptor was fit to rule, then Ptor wouldn't disappoint him. Straightening to his full height, Ptor followed his guide into the Great Hall.
*~*~*~*~*
In all of Irk, no greater honor exists than the chance to stand before the Tallest. Five young Irkens waited, each hoping in his heart of hearts that he would soon become the new ruler. Ptor's chest puffed out proudly, for he, like the other four standing with him, had made the cut. Only minuscule differences in height existed between the waiting five. To the naked eye, they all appeared to be the same height.
Smoke billowed around the platform. In the tiers, thousands of Irkens took up a ritual chant, a chant older than all of recorded Irken history. As the first tendrils of smoke reached the candidates, one, whom Ptor remembered being introduced as Dak of Nova Company, sniffed disdainfully. "Lasers would have been far more impressive." Ptor, however, was more than awed with the smoky entrance.
"Put your antennae together," came the disembodied voice of the Conventia announcer, "in proper greeting of the Almighty Tallest!" All throughout the Great Hall, Irkens lowered their gazes respectfully and antennae wriggled.
The smoke cleared. A hunched silhouette appeared and approached the candidates in a stately measured pace. The Tallest had arrived. "Stand straight," the Tallest commanded, his weak voice echoing through the Conventia sound system. The few candidates who had started to slump down quickly straightened up.
A round, frisbee-sized platform floated out to the Tallest. A panel slid up and the Tallest placed a hand on the newly revealed keypad, activating a program set only to respond to the introduction of the Tallest's genetic code.
Spinning disks rose up from the stage and surrounded the Tallest candidates, rising up and down, taking the measurements of the young Invaders. After half a minute, the disks grouped together to compare data. When they separated, a piece of paper slid out of the platform in front of the Tallest.
"Amazing," the Tallest breathed as he read the results. "My people, your new Tallest is Dak of the Nova Company!" Realizing he'd come all the way to Conventia for nothing, Ptor's shoulders slumped. Amid the thunderous cheers, the old Tallest held up and hand for silence. "And," he continued, "Ptor of the Proton Company! Analysis shows that they are the exact same height!"
Throughout the assembled Irkens, the word spread like wildfire. "Two? Two Tallest?" Never before in the history of Irk had there been two Almighty Tallest.
Flicking off his connection to the sound system, the old Tallest inclined his head in Ptor and Dak's general direction. "Boys, if you would be so good as to follow me, I shall help prepare you for the induction ceremony."
Once safely ensconced in the backstage chaos, Dak shoved Ptor against a wall, growling deep and low. Ptor started to hiss a challenge, but before he had the chance, the old Tallest smacked them both smartly in the back of the head. "Save the juvenile power-posturing for when you're in private. Since you are both the exact same height, then you're going to go out there and treat each other as equals long enough to convince our people that you'll both be fit rulers! Is that understood?"
Antennae fell back submissively. "Yes, my Tallest," the two chastened Irkens chorused together.
The Tallest studied his two replacements, his left eyelid drooping skeptically. "Now that you are the Tallest, both of you must be willing to forfeit your old identities. From this moment on, Ptor and Dak no longer exist. Got it?" Two heads bobbed in unison. "Excellent," the Tallest continued. "However, to tell you both apart, I'll introduce you, Ptor, as the Almighty Tallest Purple, and Dak, you will be the Almighty Tallest Red." The two Irkens kept right on nodding as the Tallest continued to feed them their script.
*~*~*~*~*
The induction ceremony had gone off without a hitch. Red and Purple, the two new Tallest, followed through with their predecessor's advice and maintained a unified front right up until the moment they were sure they were alone in the Irken palace.
Purple looked about the main hall with a mixture of awe and curiousity. Ancient Irken weapons decorated the walls. Throughout history, the staff had become a popular weapon among Irkens for close combat due to the extra reach it offered, and the main hall reflected this preference.
In this new home, Purple didn't expect to be attacked. Red, however, was not ready to let what he started on Conventia end. He spun Purple around to face him, his fingers digging into the twiggy green arm, and bared his teeth in challenge. "Go back to being an Invader," he snarled. "Irk only has room for one Tallest." Purple hissed in reply, his antennae pushing forward agressively.
The two Tallest pressed together so closely that their antennae touched. Each stood as still as a stone, trying to stare down the other, but neither was willing to back off. In a blur of speed, the two Irkens spun away from each other, grabbing weapons off the wall.
Purple quickly discovered that he did not have the faster reflexes as he brought up a double-bladed staff just barely in time to ward off Red's attack. Red's blow hit the staff with such force that Purple's hand's went numb. Leaping backwards to avoid the next blow, Purple dropped down and swung his staff at Red's legs. Alas, Red, like Purple, was accustomed to fighting much shorter opponents, and as a result was an expert at blocking low attacks.
Once Purple's attack was rendered ineffective, Red swung his weapon upwards, sending Purple's staff clattering across the tiled floor. Bloodlust flashed in Red's crimson eyes as he moved in close. With Purple unarmed, all Red had to do was administer the killing blow and the Irken Empire would have only one Tallest.
Purple should have accepted his fate. Having been disarmed by Red in combat, Purple should have submitted, allowing his punishment to just happen. Yet Purple was the Almighty Tallest, and, as such, no other Irken, not even Red, could be called his superior.
As Red readied himself for the killing stroke, Purple managed to execute a perfect roundhouse kick. The staff flew out of Red's hands, and his head spun from the blow.
When Red regained his equilibrium, he quickly focused on Purple, who was crouched in front of a suit of armor, waiting to see if the unspoken question of dominance was settled. Both Irkens were breathing heavily; the battle, though short, proving exhausting.
With a primal scream, Red pounced, bringing down both Purple and the suit of armor in a single fluid motion. The two Irkens grappled with each other on the floor, not bothering to separate long enough to ditch the suit of armor. The thin veneer of civility was gone as the two Irkens went at each other like a pair of savage animals. At one point, Red tried to get a grip on Purple's throat with his teeth, only to get a mouthful of metal gauntlet for his troubles.
At last, Red and Purple had to separate. They each lay against opposite walls, muscles so cramped with fatigue that they could not move. The only sound in the hall came from the spasmodic breathing of the two Almighty Tallest. The question of dominance was not to be settled that night.
*~*~*~*~*
Six months crawled by since the night of Red and Purple's hallway battle. The first month was spent in a frenzy, each trying often to kill the other. Once they both realized that the other was determined not to just roll over and die, though, they began to avoid each other, slinking through the palace. Conversation was a rare treat in the palace, Red and Purple both being unable to cut through the social barriers that separated them from all other Irkens. At last, Red and Purple began tolerating each other's company, though barely.
The library became Purple's haunt. Shelf after shelf of vid-books beckoning to him. Curling up in an over-stuffed chair, long legs tucked beneath him, Purple could often be found studying the great military histories. Red, on the other hand, made use of the library's holo-computer to plan future conquests.
Whenever both happened to be in the library at once, Purple did his best to ignore Red. Finally, though, the day came when he found himself unable to resist poking a bubble in Red's enthusiasm for destruction.
A map of Jaelidia 7, the eighth planet of the Jaelidia system and home of some of the galaxies strongest metals, stretched out across the holo-computer. Red was outlining to himself a plan for a swift air strike, a plan which Purple knew would squander Irken lives needlessly. "Won't work," Purple said without looking up from his vid-book, making sure that his voice was just loud enough for Red to hear.
Red snarled, his eyes narrowing to dangerous slits. "I've been planning this invasion for a month! It has to work!"
Purple stood and approached the holo-computer, being careful to keep his antennae at half-mast, thinking that it would be best to take on neither a dominant nor a submissive attitude since he didn't want to battle in the library. "What you're not taking into account, Red, is the nature of the Jaelidians themselves. Under normal circumstances, your plan would have a high probability of success." Purple paused to change the display on the holo-computer and to allow Red a moment to bask in the compliment.
The map Red had been studying dissolved in a flurry of pixels and a new image built itself up into an alien creature. While the image of the creature spun slowly so that observers could get a good look at it from all sides, a black box of white text sprang up on the right side of the screen. Purple found himself slipping into a lecture mode that so many of his professors at the Irken Academy had used to put him to sleep when he was younger. "Now then, Red, first off, you must realize that the Jaelidians are a superior air power. No invading race has won any territory from the Jaelidia system by going at it from the air." Red started to open his mouth, but before he could get a word out, Purple held up a finger. "And before you say it, an infantry attack is absolutely out of the question. Take note that your basic Jaelidian is built like a tripod, three eyes and no backside to sneak up on. Combine that with their skill in the air, and you might as well hand over your soldiers to be slaughtered."
Red's shoulders slumped lower and lower as he listened to Purple's lecture. He'd never realized before that taking over a planet was so hard! As Purple watched Red's hopes get dashed against the rocky shores of reality, he began to feel the faint stirrings of pity. Purple started to reach over and lay an hand on Red's arm, but stopped. Such a gesture may well have sent Red into a frenzy, for touch among the Irkens was used only in intimate situations with those you were close to or in battle. Purple let his eyes slide across the known info on the Jaelidians so that he wouldn't have to see Red's crestfallen face.
Suddenly Purple knew! The tip of his tongue slid out ever-so-slightly in anticipation of a victory. "I think, Red, that there might be a way after all. You may want to have an Invader infiltrate the planet and investigate, but take a look at this." Purple flicked his fingers out, highlighting a section of the text.
Squinting as he read, Red snorted. "Yeah, so darkness leaves the Jaelidians disoriented. Big deal. Their planet doesn't really have a night."
Silently, Purple brought up the topographical maps of Jaelidia. "No night, but the planet is honey-combed with caves. Armed with well-placed explosives, we could bring down the major cities and military posts and start mining operations all at once. Just send in a few Invaders to get everything set up, and when they rejoin the armada... Ka-boom! The surviving Jaelidians will be left disoriented and militarily crippled."
Giddy laughter escaped Red at the thought of mass destruction. "Brilliant!"
*~*~*~*~*
Purple trudged wearily back to his room. After a month of preparation, the conquest of Jaelidia 7 had gone beautifully. In a single afternoon, the planet was reduced to rubble. Now, though, Purple was having to deal with the hard part by himself: smoothing the ruffled feathers of the leaders of the rest of the Jaelidia system. Purple would have loved some help, but alas, diplomacy was not Red's forte.
After such a long day of kissing scaly ass, all Purple wanted was to curl up in bed and sleep the rest of the week away. Purple slid beneath the soft, heavy comforter, relishing how, in the darkened room, he could imagine the safety of his birthing tube. At least, until a knock at the door jarred him from his musings. "Identify yourself!" Purple called out as he reached into the top drawer of his bedside table and pulled out a laser pistol, which he quickly hid beneath the blankets.
"Red," came the response from the other side of the door. Always wary of his partner, Purple reluctantly permitted Red entry into his room. Red's eyelids raised up as he saw the bulge beneath the covers. "So, is that a laser pistol under there or are you just happy to see me?"
Purple shrugged, shifting the weapon so that it was less obvious. "Laser pistol," he answered, voice flat and bristling with suspicion.
Red nodded approval and pretended to smooth out the folds in his crimson robe. He'd forgone the traditional armor of the Tallest for this visit, settling on something less agressive. "You've got the advantage then," he said, the beginnings of a smile playing about his lips. With exaggerated caution, Red let his robe slide to the ground. "As you can see, I'm unarmed."
Purple shut his eyes and opened them again, unable to believe what he was seeing. Sure enough, the vision didn't go away. "Well, your weapon is of the non-lethal variety at least," Purple quipped, trying to remember what proper procedure for this sort of situation was. Irkens normally dressed so that all but their heads and hands were covered. Clothing, symbolically, had become an armor in and of itself. Now, Red stood before Purple as vulnerable as any Irken could be.
Hesitantly, Purple motioned for Red to come closer. Red crept within arms length of Purple, simple need transforming his features into something child-like. Purple reached out, brushing his knuckles lightly against the back of Red's hand. Needing no further invitation, Red sat down on the edge of the bed. Purple pulled out the laser pistol and Red's eyes went huge. "Shit! You weren't kidding!"
Returning the weapon to its drawer, Purple smiled. "No, I wasn't." With the gun out of sight, Red sprawled across the bed, making satisfied purring sounds.
Purple started to lean over Red, but as soon as Red felt the movement, he sat back up and pressed Purple against the mattress. "I've been thinking, Purple, it's time we stopped fighting." Red reached out and pulled the blanket back, exposing Purple's bare chest. "We work so well together. Jaelidia 7 proved that."
Instinct told Purple to push Red away; the other Irken was too close too fast. Purple's antennae started forward warningly, but relaxed as Red started rubbing his cheek against Purple's chest. "Between your brains and my aggressive tendencies, Purple, we could rule the universe." Purple felt a tugging and relinquished his hold on the sheet that he hadn't realized until that moment he was holding onto.
A high squeak escaped Purple, and he planned to scoot away from Red before things could go any further. Red, however, relaxed against Purple, seemingly content to just lay there. "It may take us years to set up," Red continued, "But one day, under our leadership, all races in the galaxy will serve the Irken Empire." Red yawned, his eyelids starting to droop. "I've even come up with the perfect name for whatever plan we come up with: Operation Impending Doom. Doesn't that sound nice?"