SO. THIS WAS IT.
He was no longer a single man, he was a TAKEN man. Taken by the single most important figure in the empire. Or unimportant, maybe, if you looked at it in a cynical sort of way. BUT he was not going to think about that, nope, he was sick of thinking like that. I mean, there's only so long you can spend PANICKING before your brain just get exhausted and tells you to quit so you drink some Flubber-Juice or whatever.
So that's exactly what he was doing. Drinking Flubber-Juice and watching the news and trying his best not to look at the email on his digi-card. Nope, not going to think about that. Nope, no way, focus on the funny woman with the crooked horns telling you all the funny delightful stories of misery and death. Yep, yep, sure is death all right. Nothing to do with a (free!) DAY PASS TO IRK. UGH, no, no, STOP IT.
Not to mention the tickets on the Fasty – ONLY the THIRD fastest space-plane-taxi-ship-thing EVER. With FREE REFRESHMENTS and REFILLS agHHhHH. He gripped his head, breathing slowly. Just. Listen. To the. News. Woman. AH.
Giving in, he took the card and checked the email again, still not really believing it at all. This stuff was expensive. It wasn't just given out on a whim and he'd never, ever get this even for work unless he'd won it in the company raffle or something. But this was it. This was it and it was happening TODAY and it was his FIRST DATE and.
And.
This was stupid to think about. He was sick of panicking. He sucked on his Flubber-Juice.
The Fasty was a demi-god of steel and glass. It was an engineering marvel and Lard Nar was in heaven. SURE it didn't have any weapons or anything, which was more his field of passion – BUT it still made him feel just a little bit giddy. He'd watched this thing take off. SO many times. ONLINE.
But NEVER FROM THE INSIDE.
Getting off in Capital 1 after the most exhilarating and AMAZING experience of his life made him feel… pretty good. He decided he'd walk his way into town (the train ride wasn't free and he was way too early anyway.)
Irk was pretty much what he expected it to be like because well, he and his race had designed practically EVERYTHING on display. If he'd had more pride and been more annoying he'd have pointed out everything Vortian to the nearest passer-by. Still, even though everything felt so… familiar, it was weird seeing it well… alive and functioning and swarming with green people.
He remembered to check the skies as often as possible. The ground was generally safe and all that, but the air ways were always expecting problems and crashes, especially on Irk. Or so he'd been told. So, staining his neck up, he often caught the faces of leering Irkens who smiled at him out of curiosity or disgust. He was never sure which. He guessed it didn't matter.
When his neck grew tired, though - he let himself risk his life by focussing on the path ahead. The sea of legs was nothing new, but it was when he encountered some other shortling that things got a little more difficult. It wasn't like they could just step over him.
If he was honest, whenever he saw any Irken around his height he felt an instant pang of pity. Maybe even guilt, since he knew it wasn't even the height that disadvantaged them, it was height plus race. He was allowed to be an engineer, anything he wanted really, all because he was born to a more CIVILIZED species. BUT who was he to judge? It wasn't like he could do anything about the STUPID hierarchical issues of another species that should have been rendered completely obsolete since they were more ROBOT than ORGANIC now, anyway. Or well, maybe he could. Maybe he could whisper things into Miyuki's… um… antenna and change the world for the better, all so he wouldn't have feel guilty-bad-piteous. Haha. Yeah.
Bumbling his way through long legs and awkward half smiles and occasionally stopping to stare up at signs and ships that soared way over his head – Lard Nar eventually made it to the Tallest Tower. Or was that The Tallest Tower? He was never good when it came to formal capitalizing of things.
The fashion style seemed to be homogenous this season, and the secretary was no exception. Actually, it was REALLY weird seeing a living secretary for once. Which was great, most were voice controlled and impossible. What wasn't great was that he didn't notice him until he practically jumped up onto his desk and hung on using his arms.
"Oh, you're here for The Tallest, right?" He looked down at Lard Nar. "You're going to have to sign in." Sticking a pen in his mouth, he signed some long winded (digital!) contract that he had no time to read that probably signed off his life to the Irken Empire and promised his organs for harvesting or something, but whatever. After that, the secretary slung a pass around his neck. "Top floor, if you couldn't guess."
Letting go of the desk, he bobbled a bit on the floor, regaining his balance. Okay, so far, so good. Wandering into the "FLOSSY LIFT- FLOSS WHILE YOU WAIT!" elevator, he vaguely hummed along to the advertisement jingle that was made up of screaming bacteria being scrapped out of existence. Floor after floor passed by, each one containing HORRORS BEYOND HIS IMAGINATION... heh heh, in other words, offices. Making a mental note to tell Miyuki that one, he nodded a couple of times before turning around.
Looking outside of the tower, he was amazed at the sheer vastness of buildings that sprawled across Irk. If the surface of Vort was galaxies and nebulas… well, the metaphor didn't really carry. Irk's buildings were more like anthills, just poking out randomly from every this way and that, each competing for the most sky scraped.
Uh, right, yeah. He was getting closer to the top and he could feel the anxiety starting to crawl out of the pit of his stomach. Why was it always the stomach? Did it really have to rise up and slosh across his entire body? Maybe things would have been better if it was just concentrated in his elbow. He could ignore it then. He could DEAL with it then.
Remember the guidebook… Yeah, yeah, okay. Irken culture was pretty easy to get. Shortness was bad, meat was funny, antenna wiggling shows proper respect (should he... with his horns? UGH Why had this never been an issue before and WHY WAS IT NOW?) Um, religion was a non-issue ... Oh, and yeah, and the thing that had been big, bold and animated - "Irkens DO NOT breed DO NOT attempt 'marriage' DO NOT offer to 'bang them behind the bar in a dumpster'" etc etc.
He'd never rebelled against anything in his life.
A guidebook was a good start, he guessed.
The jingle ended with "GET A GENOCIDE GOING ON" and then the elevator opened. With that helpful message in mind, Lard Nar stepped out into her office.
Everything was awash with decoration. Miyuki was not fond of minimalism, it seemed. Everything was red and pulsing and patterned with symbols that vaguely resembled the crest of the Irken Elites. There were useless pointy things everywhere and none of the furniture was at all practical.
Lard Nar smiled.
She turned around from her control panel, dismissing the multitude of screens that surrounded her.
"You are late."
His smile vanished.
"Oh, I am?" He froze. "I… uh, I mean, yes of course I am. Yes, you see… I didn't have…"
She shook her head while he rambled. "It is fine. You know I do not mind." Tilting her head, she hovered over to him. "Remove your bag. Relax."
Uh, right, yeah. Dropping his bag by his side, he quickly changed his mind about that and went to drop it a corner where it would look more neat. Um, she obviously wasn't going to sit, um… but he'd feel more relaxed if he did – but he'd never reach up there "ArGHK"
She had picked him up, two spindly fingers playing along his ribs. His breath was tight.
Plopping up on a seat that made him about… waist level to her, she smiled at her handiwork. "This is better?"
"It… is, yes. Thank you." Leaning into the… whatever material this was seat, he tried to settle. Swinging his legs he considered just what to say. "So… what were you doing?"
"Just as you suggested," she said. "Learning."
"Oh, really?" He clasped his hands together, learning forwards. "What about?"
"My Elites."
"Ah, yes. But… shouldn't you be trying to learn something that… isn't already logged into your PAK? I mean, I KNOW I told you to do that because… mistakes and all that but… I mean, isn't there something… more… in..teresting?"
"Nothing is more interesting to me than my art." She smirked.
Oh. Oh yeah. So that's what she meant.
He laughed, awkwardly. "Yes, learn what you're ... passionate about." He tried to imagine killing Foi Thong or Tom Yum or any of his other rivals… or that Zim guy, just… anyone getting in the way of the project. He scratched the back of his neck, looking down. "That makes the most sense."
"Have you enjoyed Capital 1?"
"UH, oh, yes!" Why hadn't he thanked her for that yet? "The Fasty was great, too. Did you know that's the THIRD fastest transporter of organic cargo EVER?" She was nodding, okay, good. "And this Capital 1 is so much better than the other Capital 1, at least from the pictures I saw of it… Lots of…" Irken things, Irken things…"Tall buildings, here. Taller than there." He swallowed. "Is… there a Capital 2?"
Miyuki looked perplexed. Before she could say anything though, "No, no of course not, that wouldn't make sense. Why would there be more than one Capital?" He laughed because he was an IDIOT. "Sometimes thinking can make you stupid."
"Is that really so?"
"Um, yes, sometimes… Thank you, by the way, for the tickets and the day pass and everything else."
"It is fine. A date requires two who are free from work, yes?"
He tensed. "YES, I mean, yes, it does." He dug his nails into the chair. "So, do…Irken's…date?"
"We do not," she said. "I have told you this, and we have never. Have you downloaded anything on our defunct breeding practices?"
UM. Ha… ha, well. He wriggled. "… Not… really."
"Did you know, my Lard Nar, that there was a time when antennae officially contributed to one's height?"
"I did not."
"There was once a time when no male had a chance of obtaining my rank. A shame, if that still applied today, so few would have to die."
"So... why… doesn't it." He breathed, "apply?"
"The female leader's sole purpose had been abolished. It has long since been eradicated. Now there is a chance for equality."
"Yes…. yes. Okay."
"In days long passed, I would have been the sole mother to nearly all those alive today. Their blood would be one with mine. I would have bred with my smeets and I would have desired nothing more than contributing yet more of them to the empire."
"Oh."
"I can do no such thing now. My womb is the hatcheries, my genetics preserved forever in history and fresh Irken minds." She titled her head. "Is it not more beautiful now?"
"Well considering the past sounded HORRIBLE, it wouldn't be hard to make it more beautiful." He tilted his head. "It's much more… efficient, now."
"Yes, though I have been stripped of all purpose – there is such variety today. Pink, red, purple, green – no longer do all those alive resemble me. And now we do not have roles assigned upon birth. There is freedom of choice." She raised a hand to her chest. "There was a danger, of course, that we would be lost without proper direction. For that void to be filled, we must thank the Control Brains."
He stared. She looked like she was in some kind of reverence. Uh, well, whatever worked for her he guessed. He thought Irken's didn't HAVE religion but… this… was pretty… religious-y.
"Perhaps your species will adopt a similar system?"
"Ah, um, no I don't think so. We're pretty purposeless." He frowned. "And happy about that."
"You simply have not been uplifted. Your perception on happiness would soon change. Do you not think?" The hand on her chest slid to her waist. "Once, I would have been overjoyed to feel my thousand mates crawling all over me, each competing to sire the new generation. I would have been filled with satisfaction knowing I was producing an endless cycle, that my smeets and their smeets would want me as their father's had." She floated over beside him, bending down until her face was almost at his level. "Such ideas disgust me, now. Do you not think, with time and generations, your species would also loath things such as dating?"
She smiled as he struggled with the words.
"But, my Lard Nar, do not worry." She gently slipped her fingers over his. "Dating does not disgust me. I know nothing about it, except from cinema. So I will do my best."
He stared at his hand as it moved to grip one of her fingers. Even her fingers were long and impossible and alien. "You're…doing fine, I mean…" apart from all the talk of death and incest-filled orgies and all that. "Maybe we should go somewhere. You love to eat, right?" Oh!
Winking, he pointed at her, "But not meat." 10/10 he was a cultural mastermind and a comedic genius.
She nodded.
"Yes, we can have anything you desire served to us."
"Uhh." He glanced around her office. It was nice and high up and all but…"I don't think this setting is, you know, romantic."
She laughed, that time. Her face just… squeezed up like a paper bag.
"Then show me what romance looks like."
A/N: OooOoh noooo I haven't updated in forever and this is so stop-starty and pointless. Oh well :P I promise to update so much faster (hopefully by this weekend!) since I actually… have some of this planned aha.
As a side note, thank you so, so much to those who have reviewed it so far. You have no idea how much it means to me to know you appreciate my portrayals of these characters. After all, both are so minor. I worry that I flanderize Lard Nar a lot but it's these kind of things that reassure me ahah.
Don't be afraid to critique me at all, though! Thank you once again. C: