Hey guys. This chapter is serious. So...just to warn you.
ShySilentWriter: Well, they're gonna do something. I can't say what yet. But…anyway. Just read. The meeting with the Tallest is in this chapter—so there you go!
Ngrey651: Why, thank you!
RandomCitizen: Haha, yes. A kickstarter. That will solve everything. ^^
"Purple, what are you doing?"
Purple was rummaging through one of the lounge cabinets. "I'm trying to find my gummy worms."
"We don't have time for that- the crowd is waiting at the Launch Deck."
Purple growled, righted himself, and hovered towards Red, who was standing by the door. "Why do we have to have a sendoff party, anyway? It's already embarrassing enough that we're going to be broadcast on Vortian TV."
As they hovered toward the elevators, Red smirked. "Are you saying you wouldn't want a party in your honor?"
"Well...no."
"That's what I thought."
A few Irkens in the hall greeted them before they reached the Deck. Red and Purple made their way to their terminal. Instead of personal cruisers, they were taking one big enough for both of them, Rarl, and a guard. Vortian security had arranged to clear them as long as they met up with the escort at the appointed time. Sure, the crowd's attention was nice; but picturing the Vortians' faces took away from the enjoyment. A lot.
"Good luck, my Tallest!" Zee called from near the front of the crowd. "Have fun...doing whatever it is you're doing!"
Purple waved. "Thanks, Zee."
Skoodge was trying to muscle his face to the front. "Good luck, my Tallest! Bring back some Vortian souvenirs! Maybe a new couch: our old one is kinda-"
"Bring back victory! Victory for your most loyal supporter, Zim! Do it for me! I am Zim!"
"Bye, my Tallest!" Tenn's voice screeched, as usual. "I'll keep an eye on the broadcast for you! Don't worry! Nothing will happen on the amazing Tenn's watch!"
I hope not.
They boarded the relatively small cruiser and watched from within as the Irkens cheered. Purple turned to Red. "Do you think it's weird that they have no idea what we're doing?"
The other shrugged. "Some of them do. Frankly, I'm more concerned about the Vortians. These guys cheered for the end of Impending Doom. They'll cheer for anything."
"True…You know how we always have at least fourteen donuts with breakfast?"
"Yeah."
"I didn't feel like eating that much today. Only like...eight!"
"That is weird. It's just public speaking."
Purple frowned. "You're not nervous?"
Purple folded his arms across his lap and watched Rarl take a seat next to Red. "You keep telling yourself that." The pilot headed towards his own chair.
In a few moments, Purple felt the ship lift off the ground. As he looked back once more upon his screaming citizens, he reflected on how little they understood. Even Tenn hadn't grasped the full reality of their pasts being broadcast now, to everyone, to Hannah. He'd watched the effect it had had on her. He'd monitored the effects it had had on both he and Red. Not wanting to follow the train of thought any further, Purple opted to stare out the window instead.
The stars and galaxies were newer to him up close: it had been years since he'd left. Only for side trips to, like, Conventia, or sometimes—rarely—Irk. Since he'd been to Irk, it'd been…
"Once we reach Vort's atmosphere," Rarl said, "we'll meet up with the escort above ground. They'll escort you to the hall where you'll be speaking."
At the thought of all those Vortians' eyes on him, Purple shuddered. It would've felt better if the Vortians were the intruders, the imposers. Then they could have made fun of them while eating snacks.
"Sounds good," Red said.
Deep down, though, despite his discomfort, Purple knew this was right. This was the only acceptable way to deal with everything. And he'd put up with discomfort before…he couldn't recall when, just at that moment; but he was sure there had been a time in training or something. Positive self talk.
The ride was long, boring, and full of mental rehearsing. Red usually took the speaking initiative, so it was up to Purple to make sure he himself interjected without making them both out to be stuck up.
We're not completely stuck up…are we?
Ugh.
It didn't help that, out here, his internet connection was terrible. Playing any game proved to be a trial of enduring patience. Finally, at one point, he tossed his data pad aside and leaned back, sighing.
"Problem?" Red didn't look up from the game he was playing.
Yeah, the Vortians we're going to be meeting in a couple of hours. "Yeah: why do you get the tablet with the better service?"
"Because I'm me."
"That's no reason."
"Yes it is."
Purple sat up, antennae flattening against his head. "Stop playing that game."
"No."
"Give it to me! I've been trying to play my favorite game for two hou-"
"No."
Purple groaned. "Come on!"
"No. You're going to have to learn to deal with being bored like everybody else. What if the Vortians heard you'd been playing this entire time? Do you think they'd want to listen to you, thinking this was just a convenient side trip?"
Purple frowned. "But...you're playing on one too-"
"Irrelevant. This is my tablet. I obviously need to keep myself entertained somehow."
"But you're..."
Red's eyes darted up for a second. "Completely owning this level. Yes."
Aand Purple was being ignored again.
"You know, that's...it's...I...you're...but it's not..."
"Are you planning on being more articulate in a couple of hours?"
Purple leaned forward-"Hours?!"-before slumping back in his seat with a moan. "Irk...why did we do this?"
"Because teleportation wasn't in agreement with Vortian terms. Have you even been listening to what's going on around you, or just raging at the Wi-Fi?"
Purple resorted to muttering angry, half-coherent things under his breath, avoiding Rarl's gaze- did that little squirt look amused?- and slamming a hand onto his data pad until Red glared enough to make him stop. This was a rare time Purple wondered what it would feel like to sleep. At least the time would pass more quickly.
After what seemed like an eternity, a sound came from the front screen. The pilot studied it before turning around. "Sirs, we're half of the way there."
Red's eyes shot to Purple's, and he immediately started chuckling. Purple was too shocked to register more than the sound of Red's laughter before he erupted in a cry of, "Aaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!"
"Here." Red tossed the tablet to his co-ruler. "I beat the thing anyway. Just to make you shut up, take a turn. I have more important things to worry about…like what I'm gonna say at the conference." His tone was pointed.
"I was focusing on that, too," Purple retorted.
"Sure you were. 'Stupid Wi-Fi, I only wanted one thing! One! Isn't there anything better to do in the vacuum of space?'"
"Shut up!"
"Nope."
"I mean it!"
Red's eyes narrowed. "Just play your stupid game and shut up yourself. I'm going to rehearse in my head."
"That's what I was doing!"
"Nuh-uh!"
"Uh-huh!"
"Nuh-uh!"
"Yeah-huh!"
"You're an idiot."
"I am not!"
Two hours later...
"My Tallest," the pilot announced, "we're here."
Purple clawed his way up off the couch, eyes wide, breathing ragged. "Get me out of this cruiser. I need air. I need to live. Can't...breathe."
Red pushed his head down, hovering forward. "Drama queen. Let me see." They both moved to the front window. There was a gray planet now very immediately outside the pane. Purple's spooch cramped. Superiority, and guilt, rushed through him. These people had been their captives longer than almost any other species…how would they react? How would he and Red react?
Red's voice was low. "This could either go really well, or reeaally badly." He turned to Rarl. "When did you say they were meeting us here?"
"They should be here shortly. We just have to clear air traffic control...and tell them who we are."
Purple felt claustrophobic. He gazed at the gray planet. "Do you think they have ice cream cones? I could really go for an ice cream cone."
Red's eyes were narrowed again. "Focus. Don't you want to make a good impression?"
"I think it's a little late for that."
"I mean exclusively to this one trip! Just...stop talking about ice cream for two seconds and chill."
"Heh...ice cream...chill..." More glaring. "Sorry. Getting into pathetic remorse mode."
Red rolled his eyes quickly. "Not like that."
"My Tallest," Rarl said. He pointed down, to the side. Three ships were flying close together, appearing to come toward them. "I think that's the squad appointed to meet us."
"Good," Red said. "Should we open a communication line?"
The pilot spoke. "We'd better let them open it first, my Tallest."
Purple wasn't used to hearing Irkens contradict their word. If anything, he'd gotten more used to it in the past year.
"It's so weird." Red's voice was lower. "I've never not been the one imposing on them."
"I was thinking that too."
He smirked. "You were actually thinking?"
Purple scowled. "Groundbreaking, I know."
"I'm impressed."
"Shut up."
If anything, Purple was glad he had Red. They were partners.
Forty-five minutes later…
Pang. Pang. Pang.
Red voice was terse. "Stop it, I'm trying to watch them running."
"I can't take it anymore." Purple pressed his face, and a fist, repeatedly, against the glass. "Air traffic controllers are idiots."
Red exhaled. "You're starting to stress me out. Cut it out. Play another game or something."
The other turned in his seat to face Red and stuck his bottom lip out. "I beat all the games."
"Then do something else."
"There's nothing el-"
"Sirs?" Prisoner 777's face appeared on the screen. Thank goodness, Red thought. Now he'll shut up. "We're ready for you on the surface."
Purple jumped out of his seat and pumped the air with a fist. "Yeah!"
Red shook his head. "So we're clear to land? I find that hard to believe...but," he made a conscious struggle to force his next words out, "thank you, I guess." The "I guess" was good because it made it sound like Red didn't really care all that much, which was more his style.
"We're getting out. We're getting out. We're getting out." Purple was dancing around the cabin in a manner Red was concerned would give the Vortians on screen the impression they weren't serious. And he felt very seriously about this trip.
"Purple. Sit. Down."
His co-ruler's gaze drifted to the faces onscreen. "Uhm…ahem. Hello, sirs."
777's brow furrowed. "Yes. We'll escort you down to the surface now. Then we'll take you in person to the lecture hall...if that's gonna suit your needs."
There was something reminiscent of the terrorized respect Red remembered from the prison in 777's voice: not fear, but…the questioning reeked of something Red would rather have not remembered. "That's fine," he nodded, trying to sound amicable.
He and Purple sat in silence while the ship finally descended into the atmosphere of Vort. With every mile, something rose in Red's spooch, until he felt like he was being choked slowly, from within. What would they think of him? Now, He could almost see them walking along their streets, between their buildings, like ants. Once, he would have given orders for a sweep without reflecting on it. Now, though…he thought of how each of those people had a life, a purpose…like each one in the tournament. Something inside him cringed.
They were lowering to the actual ground now, in a deserted parking lot. Red knew neither of them had been here since the prisons…
The hatch at the back opened. Broad daylight flooded in, too quickly. Red already felt self-conscious. While Purple practically flew out into fresh air, Red stalled by opening a communication line with Tenn. "Don't forget to keep us informed."
Tenn saluted and nodded once. "I'll do my best. I have no doubt they'll get out soon, safely."
"Good. I have to go now…wish us luck."
"Good luck, my Tallest!" She cut the transmission.
Reluctantly, Red hovered outside, into the sunlight, to where Purple was standing in the parking lot, talking to the escort. Silence invaded the space as he floated up. "Tenn said they'll watch them." He was mostly speaking to fill the silence.
"Good…" Purple seemed uneasy. He looked down at the ten or so Vortians lined up, waiting. "So…"
"You'll follow this way—" the Vortian's tone was clipped— "to the lecture hall."
Red had to fight every instinct inside of him not to balk at the tone. He was not good at being given orders. Even taking advice was difficult; but he'd mentally prepared for this. The Vortians had good reason to be wary.
Painfully familiar were the buildings that surrounded them to Red. They were the same ones that bordered the prison sector—he remembered them from other descents. Remembering the fact that Hannah knew about the one with Net in particular still made his spooch churn.
Red and Purple were flanked by about four guards, and led forward by the ten others. It was awkward, but there weren't many people around them. Purple was uncharacteristically quiet. As they drew nearer to the old prison, Red couldn't turn his thoughts from the people who used to be contained within its walls. He knew that was probably their aim—to drive them vindictively past the bane of their cityscape.
It became harder for Red to breathe. He pictured the scream-filled, electric, laser torture sessions. He wished he could forget them.
Finally, it loomed in front of them, out of the forest of buildings: common sense—there was no other way to the lecture hall—but the circular, low building filled Red with so many emotions that he actually did balk at them this time.
Purple looked at him. Red returned the gaze. They both wore uneasy, almost cringing, expressions. He was surprised to see such a sentiment on his counterpart's face; it only enhanced his feeling that this place—everything about it, all the memories—had been absolutely wrong. And he didn't know how he felt about that…he didn't know how he hadn't realized before now.
They made their way past the circular front of the jail into an adjoining street, and from there, Red knew the lecture hall wasn't far away. Here, more Vortians were, and were drawn to them. Red internally winced. They hadn't provided either the people of Vort nor the Tallest with much security.
No one said a word.
Conversations died down when their entourage came around corners and down streets. Red wished they would say anything at all—even curse at them; but that luxury had been stolen from the scene.
Purple kept glancing at Red until the latter wanted to snap at him to handle his own emotions. Why weren't they going faster? He briefly wondered what was going on in the arena. This had to be the most humiliating situation of his life. The worst part was, he was no longer high enough above the ground, above the Vortians, to avoid their eyes. He had to meet them, unless he resorted to looking at the ground: and he had sworn to himself he would never do that here.
The infuriating silence continued. Red wished he could sink into the street and disappear. He never felt like this. Almost never, anyways. And he'd always quickly recovered. This was ongoing misery, and there was no way he could possibly stop it without throwing away all of their efforts to get here. Purple would never forgive him.
Finally, finally, the end was in sight.
Or, rather, the beginning. Red frowned. It was exhausting to think of how your audience perceived you, to not know for sure. Crowd of mortal enemies? Worse.
Justified crowd of mortal enemies? Red seriously wanted out, then. He knew this was why they were here, and everyone was going to wonder what they had to say; so he dealt with it until they were inside the building.
From the small, black hallway they were in Red could hear the sounds of a crowd through the wall. He and Purple were left alone in a room except for two guards at the door.
"Red…" Purple's voice shook. "What do we do?"
Red found his own voice surprisingly steady, in contrast with how he felt. "We do what we came here to do...think of those people in the arena blenders. We made their people suffer much longer than that. I was just thinking about them."
"Me too." Purple's voice was quiet. "I've never felt like this. It's like something is twisting my insides. No matter what we say, they'll always hate us…they're right. We're wrong."
"…Well...I don't know if that's entirely true. I don't think they have to inevitably hate us for the rest of time…I'm nervous."
"Me too. But I've also been rehearsing."
"I don't think they're going to listen to us preach, though. I think we need to...I don't know!" Red shook his head. "Employ some other tactic we've never used before."
Purple eyed the guards, whose expressions looked neutral. "I think we should just be candid."
"That sounds painful."
"...Yeah, never mind."
Red reached toward him. "No, but it's a good idea. Remember the conversation that got her thrown into that tournament? That was the best communication she and I ever had."
Purple's eyes narrowed. "...So...you're saying we have to be real with these people? Not just offer a well-versed apology?"
He nodded. "No plastic…um…have anything in your rehearsed speech that falls into that category?"
Purple stared blankly at him until 777 opened the door. "Whenever you're ready." His tone was flat. That was it: the door was closed again.
Red and Purple stared at one another for another half a minute. Purple was actually the first one to move towards the door. Red followed. As they entered the hallway, fear started pulsing through him.
"Maybe this isn't a good idea."
I really, really, really don't want to go up there1
"It is a good idea."
Why does he have to be right? This is uncomfortable!
Though he didn't mean it, he said, "Purple, let's go. Let's just go."
"No."
Irk, why do you have to be right?!
They were getting closer to the stage.
Come on—this is ridiculous. You've had plenty of practice…!
The ramp up to the stage was in front of them. Why was this so much harder than anything he'd ever done…in his life?
Oh boy...
Red shut off his communicator. The two of them mounted the stairs.
And hovered out, in front of everyone.
"Come on, Brine; we have to move." Smack lifted the elderly woman off the bed and made eye contact with Lacosa. "I'll be back for you."
"What do I do? Grab the babies?" We were never going to get out of there in time…
"Yeah," Smack called over his shoulder as he exited the room.
I crossed into the babies' room and looked at them. The Jaggerion was sleeping, and the other was looking out the window peacefully. They were going to have to be disturbed. "Okay, compadres. Time to go." I made for the one who was awake and lifted him into my arms.
"Hannah!" Smack called from downstairs.
"Yeah?"
"…I think you should come see this." Something in his tone…
I carried the Callnowian downstairs and set him on the floor near the entryway. Smack was at the front door, Brine seated on the floor, looking through the glass.
"What is it?"
His face when he turned, his tone, spoke of doom. "We can't…I don't think we're getting out of here any time soon."
I walked up to the door and looked through the glass.
And saw orange.
How fast do regular fires spread? Because this was not a regular fire.
As I watched, the light engulfed the small plant on the porch. And then I saw it flickering around the edges of the glass. Right in front of my face.
"Oh my gosh." I exhaled. Inhaled. "Smack…"
Brine's wrinkled voice filled the air. "What is it, Smack?"
I held a hand to my forehead. "Oh my gosh!"
Smack looked among all of us…at the baby on the floor…his face was a shifting kaleidoscope of emotions. His mouth wavered open, between saying something and not.
The baby started to cry upstairs. Lacosa called for us. My nose smarted and my eyes started to burn. "Smack…" Breathe. Breathe properly. THINK.
"Everyone away from the door," Smack ordered.
Yes. I moved the Callnowian, Smack set Brine on the couch, and he quietly talked to her while I searched the house for anything we could use.
"I've got it! We can string the sheets together and lower each other down to the beach!"
Smack looked up at me. "And then what? The smoke."
"It's higher than the beach," I pointed out. "We could stay down there until…"
"Until what?" His tone was bitter. "Don't you see? This is a trap."
I stared back at him, heart pounding, mind racing. Everything in me pulsed with the thought, run. Escape. I tried the back door.
It was locked.
"Oh my gosh…"
Sponsors, I realized. Irkens.
I walked to the middle of the living room and started to speak.
"Won't this be fun?" Ichabod chuckled. "Ratings. People love to watch a good fire. If anything, this up ratings for everyone!"
His secretary sighed. "Whatever, sir..." She lowered her voice to a barely audible murmur he still caught. "Just don't ask me to get you any more coffee. I'm sick of trekking six miles to get it."
"All right, let's see how this wraps up!" His voice sounded too peppy even to him. A brief flashback of the sleeping forms on the second floor of 14, giggling together on the first night, invaded his mind before it was shoved out by the action onscreen. "Nicely as a present, I'm guessing." His voice had lost a fraction of its pep. I'm going to have to work on that.
"Why isn't it working?!" I cried. Smack was currently banging a chair against the back door. "It's wood; you have muscles; it should be splintering by now!"
"They're trying to keep us in!" He grunted, hefting the chair once more. "Go try the window upstairs."
I bounded up the stairs and burst into the babies' room. I stood at the window, banged on it with all my might. I whirled, my eyes caught a lamp, and I lunged for the base, ripping off the shade in a few quick, violent tugs. I lifted it above my head, used all the strength and momentum my perch allowed, and slammed it into the pane. It barely even nicked the surface. Again. Again. Again.
Something like, "Anything?" from downstairs.
"No!"
"Hurry!"
I left the room and looked in every other room. No dice
"Nothing," I cried, feeling my eyes burn even more strongly. I'd asked for help before, but nothing had come as a result. Maybe the sponsor system didn't drop things in the middle of infernos…or maybe no one was listening…
"Come back down! I don't know how high the flames are on the front!"
I bounded back down the stairs, heaving, trying to ward off the rising panic inside me. "We need something to break the glass!"
Smack was filling a glass at the sink. "Hannah, we're trapped in here. We're better off trying to stop the fire."
"How?"
He rushed toward the front door with the glass. In one section, orange flames were starting to warp the wood, licking at our side of it. I gasped. He threw the glass at the flames.
Nothing.
Those weren't regular flames.
I shouted again at the ceiling. "Red! We need a fire extinguisher or something!"
Running to the kitchen to get a glass, I saw Brine on the couch, looking around, seemingly distressed. I turned the faucet to full blast and made room for Smack.
"…Once the front door burns, then we can go?" I suggested.
"I don't think so."
The front door glowed. It wasn't burning up—the flames were going through it.
"So what do we do?!" I demanded.
"Fire extinguisher." Smack panted, pushing another cup under the flow. I ran to the front door, threw the cup, and watched the flames eat it and grow twice their size.
I threw my head back one more time. "Guys! I know you must be low on funds, but fire extinguisher! Battle axe! Anything!...I'm sorry about Ichabod's, okay? I didn't mean it...I care about you guys." That was as specific as I was going to get on universal television. Now the flames were climbing toward the ceiling—white plaster.
"We're gonna get crushed," Smack said.
I groaned loudly. I stared at him, my voice dropping to a whisper. "What do we do?"
Smack set the glass on the counter beside the sink and looked out the back window. We were in prison again. When he looked at me, his expression sent chills racing down my spine. "I don't know."
His tone told me we were not getting out.
In the next ten minutes, I listed every person I knew to the ceiling, asking them for help, begging them, apologizing for every gift I'd rejected, everything I'd said that had been offensive—I apologized for things I hadn't even brought to mind until that moment. Nothing.
Nothing.
Nothing.
The flames licked across the ceiling. We tried to figure out what part of the house would cave first, if it did, but eventually just ended up back in the living room. My voice was hoarse, fear pumped through me. Something groaned upstairs.
Earth, we could die.
"Why isn't the transmission working?" Tenn screamed, pressing the button to hail Vort over and over and over again.
"They must have turned off their communicators for security!" Skoodge cried.
"Well, can't we override the system?!"
Tenn pounded the button. "I'm trying! All we need from them is the sponsorship password!"
Something upstairs shuddered and crashed. The smell was like a thousand just-extinguished candles, choking my nostrils. I coughed. The only other option was to reveal what I had—but I knew I'd be killed instantly. "Isn't anybody listening?"
"Hannah." Smack's voice was gentle. "Stop." He was seated with the crying babies and the old ladies, who held each other and sat quietly on the couch.
"No…we can't…" My motivation wavered.
"Save your oxygen." His voice was like a soft blanket wrapped around me.
Then, he sat up. "Wait. The shower."
…Of course. It's the only thing bigger than the sink.
"It's worth a try." The sting of smoke stopped me from saying more.
As we ascended the stairs, he descended into a coughing fit. My eyes began to sting, hotly, painfully. I could barely breathe. The heat was worse up here. The air tasted like burnt meat and the tang of plywood. Smack and I rushed across the smoking carpet to the bathroom.
"How are we going to spread it?" I asked. "Buckets?"
"…We're not."
"…What?" My voice broke. I followed Smack into the bathroom.
"I'm going to…put you in the one place…" He coughed again, loudly, for several seconds. "Where you can't catch on fire."
"But…what about you and the—"
Outside, there was a heavy crash, a crackling, a whoosh of a roar.
Smack turned, his movement definitive, and his mouth fell open as the floor beneath us shifted downwards.
"Oh…my…"
"Gosh!" I yelled. Everything seemed to freeze and all I could feel was my own hysteria. "Oh my gosh, what happened?!"
Smack face moved towards the ceiling. "You sons of bitches!"
I breathed. The tile was white. I breathed. In, out. Deeply. Hysterically. I couldn't…I couldn't…
"Get in." He pushed me into the shower and turned it on.
"I can't…what about you?"
"I'll be fine—"
"No you won't!"
The building groaned. The air by the door began to undulate in my vision, the surface of the door growing more and more abstract as Smack stepped away from it.
Smack unleashed a string of curses.
"We're not dying—Smack, get in here!"
As I fought him, the floor underneath us shook, something buckled, and the fire raced up the door and started eating away at the walls as we fell, as an entire room, about ten feet before slamming to a slanted stop. The shower water stopped. I clung to the glass structure, already warmer, and cried.
The spotlights were, for once, unwelcome. There were no lasers.
All there was were thousands of staring eyes.
And cameras.
Focus…
Look them in the eyes…
Red found within himself a desire to be candid that made looking the Vortians in the eyes more doable. He'd had enough of falsity. In a way he didn't know how to put into prose, he wanted to tell them he was sorry. And, for once, as Red stood before the sea of Vortians, he accepted the fact that it was going to hurt. And he was okay with it.
"H-hello." Purple stuttered on the first word.
That's okay. This isn't going to be pretty. Acknowledging that gave Red a surprising amount of courage. Before he really knew what he was saying, he was speaking. "I know I can't stand up here and be believed; so we're not going to play this off." What was he saying? Everyone was watching him. Silence. "Back when I ran the prison, I murdered people. Your people. I didn't think anything of it... not until recently. The tournament has brought so much into perspective that we should have known decades ago...it feels really weird to say this, but I was wrong."
Red felt so sure of those words when he said them—it released something inside of him he didn't know he'd been holding onto. He only hoped for a reaction…and that that reaction wouldn't be them yelling at him to get out. Anything. It didn't have to be pretty.
Purple spoke. "I was involved in several of those sessions. And I had just as much say in the ending of our treaty as anyone else." Red took this opportunity to look at the audience. There were several open mouths. There were so many eyes. Silence was better than jeering and throwing things. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad…several…many, maybe, even, of the Vortians looked like they couldn't believe what they were seeing or hearing.
A voice interrupted Purple. "What do you have to say for yourselves about the condition of the prisons?" Red's eyes darted to the source—a Vortian near the back—and his heart sped up. "My mother died in your jails! She died of a broken heart! What do you have to say to that?"
Red inhaled. Think…think. What's the diplomatic response to…?
No.
What can I offer someone I can't relate to?
Can I offer him anything?
Purple looked at Red, obviously jarred as well. Red faced the audience member again, at a complete loss for words. "I..."
Another: this time, a female. "Did you come here with any sort of intention of fixing things, or just to give us a 'sorry' and move on to your afternoon snack?"
"We know what you did to those people. We're not just going to look over it."
Red's voice came out quietly. "I don't expect you to do that." He shuddered.
"We're sorry!" Purple yelled. "What else do you need to know?"
Red waved his arm. "Stop it!" His volume was back and Purple stared at him. "They need to know. They need to hear it from us, sincerely. No more of this."
The room was quiet again. Red faced the first Vortian who had spoken, unsure of what he was going to say. That didn't stop him. "I don't know the pain any of you have felt. I won't pretend to. I can tell you that her suffering was wrong; and everything we inflicted upon her was wrong. I don't expect you to believe that we're sorry. But I hope you'll at least think about it. Because...we came...five hours…" Where was he going with this? "To tell you...that...we walked by the prison…and all I could remember was..." Purple looked at him. "...Net...and how I kept hitting her, and how much blood there was, and I kept wondering how it never affected me before, or how it never occurred to me that she was just like me..."
What?!
That sounded so foreign. Why had that felt so right?
Had he really said that in front of a Vortian audience—one that contained significantly more open mouths now?
"I..." He felt a need to continue. "I was so wrong. And Lard Nar has every right to be angry with me." The treason to his own Empire that was coming out of his mouth was both agonizing and impossibly liberating. "I murdered his wife, and that wasn't right. And I murdered your mother, and that's despicable."
"I murdered people, too." Purple's voice was still very small.
As Red locked eyes with the Vortian, he thought he heard a soft "okay" from the male, before he retook his seat. It took him ten more seconds of drowning out Purple's words to even register and process that one word. Okay. Okay: he listened. Okay: he heard me out. Okay: he accepted my answer enough to withhold further protest. Maybe he didn't forgive me, but-
"-and remember that time our species tried to share Research Station Six?" Purple was asking. "And there were a group of elites, myself included, who terrorized a group of your young? Remember that? I think it was..." Red gaped at Purple as the latter began actually listing names of Vortians he'd worked with under the Vortian scientists for a class project Red remembered. Back when they'd been allies. Little things. Insignificant things...but Red understood. He'd started the ball rolling and now Purple felt a need to get things out. "I mean, sure, I terrorize my staff all the time...but that doesn't make it right, right?"
He got a few more nods. Red tried to breathe properly. "There was a prisoner," he said, eyeing the floor. Dang it, I said I wasn't going to do that. "A prisoner with a bag left leg. I sent him to the chamber probably twenty times for holding up the line."
A voice from the crowd: "I remember him! He died!"
"I…too!"
Their tones weren't furious- they sounded more like jogged memories, surprise. Red continued. "We gave you all garbage to eat, I admit."
"I never would have touched that stuff," Purple said.
"I always wondered," Red continued, "what it was about their looks that made me so uneasy…and it was the same feeling I had on the first night of the tournament, and when the Challenge losers went to the capsules. And it's the same feeling I just had walking past the prisons…and…I'm sorry. I'm…sorry." The sound of his voice surprised him so much he had to struggle to keep it steady.
There was silence for a long while. An odd peace with that silence settled over Red. No more throwing words for nothing—no more pointless feedback. He didn't know exactly what he was waiting for, but…
Then he saw several nods.
Just nods. They almost sent him over the formal precipice. They were enough for him. Purple saw them, too, because his mouth was shut and his eyes the sizes of dinner plates. There were a few more things from both of them Red couldn't remember, a few hours later; but it was something to the effect of thank you. Thank you for allowing us to come here, and thank you for hearing us out and not trying to kill us, and…and attempts to express yet suppress emotions with which he wasn't entirely familiar or comfortable.
Like the rush of warmth at the few hands that met, the surge of incredulity that melted into something he threw into the back of his consciousness to deal with later because it was so unsettling. For the moment, he focused on the light smattering of applause- applause!- coming from the Vortians. Sure, there was still plenty an angry countenance; but he'd expected much, much, much worse than that.
He also hadn't expected them to come to him once they were off the stage. Just the ten that did almost brought that emotion- that unidentified burr of a thing- flying back into the forefront of Red's consciousness.
Then, the voices:
"Thank you, for what you said."
"You're welcome to stay at my family's inn, if you need a place. And I think you will, because there were several very mad people sitting around me." A chuckle. These people had horns- Red had seen them before, but never very up close, not when ten of them were talking to him civilly, almost...amicably. Red's senses were so overloaded he could only store their words.
"I appreciated your candidness, Tallest."
WHY ARE THESE PEOPLE BEING SO NICE TO ME?!...US?!
"I don't agree with what you did at all in the prisons, but that right there was...something else."
"Would you like to have dinner?" Another few chuckles. "Vort knows you're probably hungry, knowing you two."
"We have a steak restaurant."
"They don't like steak."
"You don't like steak."
"Tallest, how long did it take you to get here?"
"Would you like a tour?"
A TOUR.
There were many other things Red stored away, along with the events of the night- the dinner, the conversations; but one thing he clearly remembered was hovering back to their cruiser after making dinner plans with several of the Vortians, surrounded by the now-familiar and less awkward guard, next to Purple, who was talking a thousand words a minute while smiling...and hearing himself giggle for the first time, for the longest time, in a very long while. The fact that the exact cause was unknown didn't even matter.
The floor beneath me was the white heat of an iron, pressing up instead of down, as Smack shoved me into the glass box. The fire reached the linoleum tile now, skirted around, filled the crevices of the wall and sent part of it on the wall opposite the shower, splintering into a tilted mess that threatened to fall. Something above us, above the ceiling, groaned, and another whoosh sounded. My heart was beating faster than it ever had. The sound of the roaring house consumed everything. I could only watch through the glass as everything outside my acryllic cell burst into flame.
"Stay in there, okay?" Smack's hand was on the other side of the shower door.
"Smack!" I banged on my side.
The wavy air outside the shower blended with the frosty glass, so when everything started to go up, all I saw was a heady glow, and the smoke overhead. I coughed, unable to draw a full breath anymore. I couldn't see...couldn't see...my eyes burned. Through real and automatic tears, I watched the room tilt even more severely to my side, the wall of the shower- the exterior wall- threatening to burn to a crisp. Everything was so hot…
I heard Smack's voice. I reached for him, hit the glass, screamed again as everything golden and orange consumed the space in front of me, the entire room. I heard Smack screaming. For a long minute, that was all I heard. I saw him moving, the gold threaded throughout the room…
The pieces of ceiling wood that kept falling. The floor outside the shower crumbling. Things falling. A shower of sparks. Two…Three showers. More things fell. The air was a burning oven. My skin felt blistery. I gagged on the smoke and the sights.
The last thing I saw before the wall behind me splintered into swiss cheese was the raging, seven-foot flames that invaded the space where the floor and my friend had just been.
The sounds from the fire outside were bigger, louder, than the ones indoors. From my glass box, I struggled to see the ground below, about fifteen feet away. The room kept sliding downwards in a tilt, very, very slowly, as the fire consumed everything. At one point- I wasn't coherent of anything, not even time- the only wall separating me from the two-story drop was riddled with holes. Another roar of the fire sent it crisping into nothing.
One moment, I was suspended above the burning ground that looked like hell, choking. The next, I was free falling again, inside a frosty prison that robbed me of seeing the ground as it rose to meet me, of being prepared for the impact. I closed my eyes.