A prison cell, no matter how big, was still a prison cell.
The suite was made up of four rooms: a main area that resembled nothing so much as a parlor; a bedroom with a queen-sized bed and a closet; a full bath; and a last room with two long tables, a metal cabinet and a chair. The furniture was human -- it might have come from any chain discount superstore. New, too.
She'd never had new furniture, only newer.
Her apartment would fit in here nearly twice over.
Her legs were numb. Her hands hurt, her head ached and there was a crick in her neck. She opened her eyes, shut them again.
Looking at her surroundings hurt. The Irken taste in color schemes ran to jewel-tones, all just a little too dark, a little too…off: amethyst, blood-ruby, amber. Interesting to look at for ten minutes, maybe, but not all the time. The architecture was just as bad: flowing, organic curves married to stark, mechanical angles and components from H.R. Giger's sketchbook.
She rocked back and forth. Everything felt wrong. Everything was wrong. Her reality check had bounced and she didn't have an overdraft loan.
They wanted her to sew.
That didn't make sense. They didn't make sense. Everyone else, apparently, was slated for institutional servitude except her. Because she'd attacked them? Then why hadn't they killed her? Why bother sparing her -- why bother with this -- at all?
It didn't make sense.
It had to make sense. Planets weren't conquered and their inhabitants subjugated just because it was a Really Cool Idea.
Her parents were years dead, but what had happened to Vicky, her twin sister, and Vicky's family? Her neighbor, Mrs. Constanzo, visiting her grandchildren in Ohio. Joanie and Virginia and DeWight and the rest of her coworkers. Pepper, left in the kennel for another day because she'd had to work a double-shift immediately after her vacation.
All dead. If they were lucky.
Her legs were cramping up. She stretched out, hissing in pain, and groped around for a pillow. She tucked it under her head, grimaced when she realized it was tag-side-up, and tore the damn piece of paper off. It wasn't like the Upholstery Police were going to come knocking in the middle of the night, after all. She opened her eyes and read the tag.
Martha Stewart.
Quin stared.
"It's a good thing," she whispered at last. "It's a good thing. A good --"
She laughed.
She couldn't help it, couldn't control it, and couldn't stop it. She laughed until her sides ignited into red-hot agony and her throat scorched and her lungs pleaded for air. She laughed until the only sound she could make was a dying kitten's whimper, until hysteria bled into exhaustion and unconsciousness slipped over her like a shroud.

"WAKE UP. WAKE UP. WAKE UP."
Quin groaned. The computerized voice reverberated through her bones. She didn't remember falling asleep, but she must have. "Five more minutes."
"Request denied. Prepare for first hygiene session, bathing procedure."
She rubbed her eyes. Damn voice came from all around. Bathing procedure. Bath. "Don't want a bath," she muttered.
"Objection irrelevant. Hygiene session mandatory." A pause. "Sixty seconds before restraints are used."
Shit. Quin rolled off the bed. Her muscles felt like rubber.
Fortunately the bathroom was a short stumbling distance away. Quin leaned on the faux-marble vanity/sink; pale sea green and pink, it clashed hideously with the amethyst walls. She avoided looking in the mirror as she undressed. Mirrors and mornings didn't mix. The commode was a commode, the tub larger than she remembered from last night. No taps, just a series of buttons above the wall; two depressed by themselves and blue-greenish gel flowed in from jets in the wall. Quin poked it with a finger. Not water. Thicker than shower gel.
"What is this?" she demanded. "Where's the water?"
"Cleaning agent. Access to water has not been granted."
"Not been granted -- what the hell?"
"Repetitive statement ignored. Question irrelevant. Commence with hygiene procedure."
Remembering the comment about restraints, Quin got into the tub. The gel stuff flowed around her. It felt like sitting in warm beads. A hook holding a washcloth popped out of the wall. She rubbed the gel into the cloth (resolutely ignoring the Martha Stewart tag) and scrubbed her face.
She stopped.
The gel didn't have a scent. It didn't even smell like soap. It didn't smell like anything.
Nothing in this room, she realized suddenly, had a scent here.
This was a spaceship. Advanced superior species or not, there should have been chemical smells from the technology, from the food, from the paint, from the aliens living here at the very least -- something. Had there been, in the halls and in that chamber with the Tallest? She couldn't remember.
But here…nothing.
A sentence from an old college textbook sprang to mind: Test subject contained in sterile environment.
They'd said slavery. But what if --
Don't think. Don't speculate. Deal with what comes as it comes.
"Towel," she said as she scrambled out of the tub minutes later. Her clothes were gone; she couldn't even use her shirt. "I need a damn towel!"
"Gel has self-drying component. Towel not required."
"No, it doesn't," she snarled. "And what about my clothes? I want clean underwear."
There was silence. Quin stood there, dripping wet, and wrung her hair out into the sink. A washcloth, but no towels. How bloody stupid!
"Attire is in sleeping chamber. Request for towels being processed. Expect reply in forty-eight to seventy-two hours."
Quin paused in mid-twist and dropped her head into her hands. "Do I dare ask for toothpaste?"
"Oral hygiene supplies in service cabinet."
"Gee, thanks."
"Gratitude is acknowledged."
Quin flipped her middle finger up at the ceiling and stomped into the bedroom.
She dried off as much as possible with a pillowcase; she considered the sheet or the bedspread, but there were no guarantees anything would be replaced. She dressed and combed out her hair as best she could with her fingers. "All right," she said, stamping into the new cross-trainers, "I've bathed. Now what?"
"Meal delivery underway. Report to main chamber."
"I'm not —" She was hungry. Her last food had been the bread and juice the night before the "orientation." More than hungry, though, she was thirsty.
As she walked into the first room the door slid open, and a gray-uniformed Irken scurried in, dropped a covered tray on the nearest table and shot out again. It didn't look at her.
Quin lifted the tray's lid. A brownish square and lumpy yellow-orange sauce squatted on a plate, framed by a plastic knife and fork. The smell of scalded milk hit her like a smack in the face.
"What the hell is this?"
"Heat-processed water-dweller with spoiled dairy enzymes and wheat flour product."
It took Quin a moment to retranslate. "Baked fish and macaroni and cheese?"
"Affirmative."
"For breakfast!?"
"Affirmative."
"I want something else! Anything else!"
"Request denied. Take it."
"I'll leave it!"
"'Leaving it' will trigger force-feeding procedures."
Quin dragged over a chair and slammed down in it. She slashed the fish into chunks and speared one on the fork. It tasted like slightly fishy burnt cardboard. The macaroni and cheese followed, but barely: she kept the greasy mess from coming back up by sheer willpower.
"Isn't there supposed to be juice?" she asked between bites. Her throat felt coated in sand.
"Negative."
"Milk? Water? Coffee?"
"Negative."
"Why?!"
"Question irrelevant."
Quin slumped in the chair and stared up at the ceiling. "Can I at least have some ketchup?"
Silence. Apparently she'd stumped her 'watcher'. Again. "Ketchup not in files." Another pause, then, "Classified as vegetable?"
God damn you, Ronald Reagan. "Yes."
"Request denied. Access to vegetables has not been granted."
"I'm done."
"Food still present."
"Observation irrelevant." She shoved the plate away. "I need to brush my teeth."
What came out of the bathroom sink's faucet was a very runny version of the cleaning gel. Combined with the toothpaste, it gave Quin the sensation of rinsing with hand sanitizer. Grimacing, she wiped her mouth on the back of her hand, and her hand on her jeans, and made the mistake of looking into the mirror.
She didn't look any different. A bit thinner, a bit paler. Same purple-streaked curly black hair, same gray eyes. She might be getting the game face on to head out to the warehouse and confront the masses of reports and deliveries and shipments, not living through the end of the world.
She gripped the edge of the vanity and stared at the sink. No. She couldn't lose it. Not yet. Not now. Once she got an explanation, then she'd lose it.
"Return to the main chamber."
The door was open and two guards were waiting for her. The same ones? Impossible to tell; their black uniforms included shields that covered the lower part of their faces. Not that the shields would have made a difference. Aside from the Tallest, Irkens all looked alike.
The trip to the audience chamber was considerably shorter, if in fact they were taking her to the same place. The guard opened the insignia-set door and Quin went inside.
It was the same place, so far as she could tell, with only the couch missing. The Tallest stood at the same computer table, obviously expecting her.
"Well, here's our little person again!" said Purple cheerfully. "Feeling better? Not so touchy, hmm?"
"Umm… yes." She wasn't terrified. Scared, yes. Wary, yes. Terrified, no. Being terrified wouldn't help her learn what was going on. "But thirsty."
"Really?" Red glided over to her -- literally glided, nearly a foot off the floor. Quin studied the hem of Red's robe curiously, then met the Tallest's gaze. "That can be fixed, after we get some things straightened out."
"Oh, come on, Red." Purple trailed after its co-ruler. "She's not panicking, she's being polite, she just bathed…and her hair's really neat-looking!"
Red snorted. "You're just saying that because it's got purple in it."
"So? It's shiny and soft." Purple patted her gently on the head. "I li --
Purple screamed and reeled back, clutching its claws to its chest.
"What did you do to him?" Red pounced on Quin. Huge metallic spider-like legs shot over and around it from its back, pinning her against the wall. "Filthy little stinkbeast, tell me!"
"N-nothing! I-I-d-don't know!"
"She's wet!" Purple bawled. "It hurts!"
"Wet?" Red turned to Purple, then back to Quin. "How? The gel's self-drying!"
"Not on me!"
"Computer, get Medical in here immediately," Red barked. "Tallest Purple's been injured. Send in Security while you're at it, too" It glared at Quin. "Then why didn't you use the towels?" the Tallest asked in a tight, too-calm voice.
"There weren't any! I had to use a pillow case!"
"They gave you a washcloth, didn't they?"
"Yes! But no towels! And when I asked, I was told it'd take two to three days!"
"Two to three days for towels ? That's stupid!"
"No kidding!"
Ruby eyes bored into hers. Quin couldn't have looked away if she wanted to, and some instinct told her looking away right now would be a very, very bad thing. "You," Red said at last, gently tapping the hollow of her throat with the tip of a spider leg, "had better be telling the truth." It glanced up as a dozen Irkens swarmed into the room. "See to the Tallest. Get the Communications head officer and Janitorial up here now; the rest of you secure the room. Oh, and will someone call down to Housekeeping for a towel?"
"I think everyone realizes something went wrong," Purple said a short time later. The medical staff was gone, as were most of the guards except for the few standing watch over two very apprehensive department chiefs. The Tallest held up its bandaged claws. "Very wrong. We're going to find out what."
Quin sank lower in her chair. The Tallest seemed to have forgotten her; even the guards no longer tracked her every little motion with their guns. She had expected to be returned to her cell as soon as possible. Instead, Red dropped a towel over her head and told her to sit down, keep quiet, and dry her hair. After a few minutes' battle she declared defeat and wrapped her mysteriously Tallest-damaging mane in a turban.
"The hospitality suite on 7th was fitted with the sterilized cleaning gel, wasn't it?" Red asked. One of the department chiefs nodded. "Yes, my Tallest."
"And the human used it, correct?"
"Yes, my Tallest."
"Then why was she damp, Commander Velk?" Purple interjected. "With water?"
Velk's antennae collapsed. "I… I don't know, sir!"
"It's your job to know. Didn't you realize the self-drying agent would interact with human body chemistry and leave water residue from cleaning her up the first time?"
Quin raised an eyebrow. Water? She'd burned Purple, or whatever she'd done to Purple, with water?
The smaller Irken's antennae writhed. "We -- we didn't use the sterilized gel the first time… sir…"
Purple's eyes narrowed. "Why not?"
"It happened on Earth, sir. After her capture. We didn't have that particular gel on hand…we made do with Earthenoid cleaning supplies. Different ones! All kinds! That's why it took so long!"
"I see," Purple said at last. It turned to the other department head. "Commander Winslo, the human claims she received a washcloth but no towels. Is this true?"
"Yes, my Tallest."
"She also claims she requested towels, and was told it would take two to three days. Is this true?"
"Yes, my Tallest."
"Did the human say why she wanted the towels, Commander?"
"Yes, my Tallest. She claimed the gel didn't work on her."
"I see. Did you check with Janitorial about this?"
"No, my Tallest." Winslo paused. "Any irregularities in the human's processing were supposed to be logged in the reports. Nothing was logged."
"Uh-huh," Purple said. "Escort them to the nearest airlock."
"My Tallest, no!" Commander Velk begged as the guards dragged them away. "It was a mistake," Winslo added, "just one mistake—!"
"And you're paying for it," Purple snapped. "You should have tried harder!"
The door closed, silencing the doomed Irkens' pleas.
Red rubbed its forehead. "Incompetents. Some days I want to space them all."
Purple sighed. "Me, too. Have her guards arrested and executed as well."
Her guards? What had they to do with this? Quin surprised herself by asking, "Aren't you overreacting?"
Red swiveled around. "Didn't I tell you to be quiet?"
"What's that thing on your head?" Purple asked.
"A towel turban."
Red glided over to her. "I thought I told you to be quiet!"
"She can't be quiet if she's going to answer me, Red, and you know it," Purple admonished. It followed Red. "Sit up straight. Will this… turban thing dry you faster?"
"It helps. Hair can take hours." In for a penny, in for a pound. "Why are you punishing the guards who brought me here? They didn't know better."
"They were assigned to you before. You looked different today. They should have noticed."
"But if they'd never seen wet hair, why would they? Maybe they thought, I don't know, it's just how humans look when they first wake up? If I'd known water hurts you, I would have—"
"You would have what?" Purple demanded.
What would she have done? Told the guards to come back later? Used it against them somehow, try to escape? Waited and rushed the Tallest in a fit of daring and stupidity? "… I don't know."
"Points for honesty, little stinkbeast ours." Red crossed its arms. "Not that it'll do you any good, but it's appreciated nonetheless. You know our weakness to water, we know yours. Yours is bigger."
The smugness in Red's voice irritated her. "What weakness?"
"Quin," Purple said. "Are you still thirsty?"
As if on cue, Quin swallowed. Thirsty? She was parched. She nodded.
"How long can humans live without water?"
This didn't bode well. "…three days."
"When was the last time you had water? Had any fluids at all?"
"The night before the orientation."
Red grinned. "And how long ago was that?"
Damn you, damn you, damn you. Quin leaned forward. "I don't know. Care to fill me in?"
Purple sighed in exasperation. Metal spider legs identical to Red's slipped out of its backpack and picked Quin up from her chair with surprising gentleness. "Red, that's enough. She was doing fine earlier. Let's not have a repeat of last night." The spider legs set her down between the Tallest; one removed the towel and draped it over the chair. The spider legs retracted into its pack "Quin, you're fairly smart for a specimen of an inferior race. I'm sure you realize snapping at your superiors is counter-productive." Purple frowned. "Um, your hair's still wet."
"Like I said earlier. It'll take hours to dry naturally."
Purple blinked. "You can dry it unnaturally?"
"With a hair dryer."
"Which is?"
"An electrical appliance that makes and dispenses hot air."
"You'll have one. By your second bath. You will use it all the time. If it breaks, inform Housekeeping immediately. Understand?"
Quin nodded.
Purple smiled. "Good." Its smile turned a little wistful. "Your hair looks really neat like this."
Gagging noises came from Red's direction. "Is the Irken master-human slave lovefest over now?"
Purple glared at it. "Oh, ha-ha." It tilted its head at the computer table. "Let's pick up where we left off before someone lost her temper, hmm?"
Its good claws skimmed the controls. A screen rose up and pivoted so Quin could see. "Now, mornings are usually pretty busy — meetings with advisors, Operation Impending Doom II leaders and especially now the Organic Sweep officers and Planetary Reconfiguration architects — so we'll probably call for you, oh, during lunch. Does that sound about right to you, Red?"
"Works for me. What about after?"
"Hmm." Purple eyed her thoughtfully. "I don't know about. She's not fully trained yet —"
"— She's not trained at all, Purple. Hey, can we get some brain-freezies in here?"
The Tallest waved its bandaged claws dismissively. "That won't be a problem. Though she's just a teensy bit nervous around us, I've noticed. I don't think she's ready for Happy Hour."
"So leave out Happy Hour. Have her run her … foot cover thingies off during the Invader reports."
"You mean shoes?" Purple broke off as a small hovering tray dropped down from the ceiling with two glasses of bright green and blue liquid. Quin watched Purple pass the green one to Red and keep the blue one for itself. The tray shot back into the ceiling. "I dunno, Red, that's kind of cruel."
"Eh, the Invaders will live." Red sucked on its brain-freezy. Quin swallowed. "We'll have to send her back after that if she's to get any sewing done. Can't forget the baths, either. What are you looking at?"
Quin started. That last was directed at her. She shifted her attention from the drink in Red's hand to its face. "Nothing."
"Human, you're a lousy liar."
"And you're blind," Purple said, exasperated. It tapped a button. "The brain-freezies! You're still thirsty, aren't you?"
"Yes, actually." Her voice was hoarse.
"Not a problem." Another tray dropped from the ceiling carrying a small pitcher and a glass. Quin swallowed again, her throat tight and desert-dry.
The pitcher was filled with water.
"Cold, too," Purple said as Red topped off the glass and set it down.
Never in her life, not even when she'd been hospitalized for dehydration during the WTO protests, had she wanted water so badly. Quin reached for the glass.
Red slid it just beyond her reach. "Ah, ah, ah! What's the magic word?"
"Please."
"Please what?"
Quin took a deep breath. "Please… Tallest."
"Not quite," Purple said, rubbing its chin. "There's a possessive pronoun missing."
Quin's face grew hot. Say it, a tiny, craven voice urged in the back of her mind. Say it. It's just a word. It doesn't mean anything.
It did mean something. Quite a bit.
The Tallest watched her expectantly. Quin folded her hands in her lap. She couldn't hold out forever, but if she could get them to think so….
Minutes passed. Red's smirk melted into a scowl. Purple sighed and poured the water back into the pitcher. "Someone's being too stubborn and proud for her own good."
"Please… my Tallest," Quin said in an even, expressionless voice.
"There, that wasn't so hard, was it?"
"I don't know." Red eyed her suspiciously. "It's lacking in the sincerity department."
"It's a start." Purple refilled the glass. "Don't drink it too fast, mind."
Quin gulped, then took a couple smaller sips. The water was ice cold and almost painful to swallow. It tasted wonderful. She could breathe again.
She set the glass down on the table, keeping her hands around it. "Thank you, Tallest Purple."
Red's eyes were ruby slits. Purple blinked. "You're welcome." It topped off her water, continuing, "Sixty-four ounces a day. One gallon. That's how much you humans need, minimum, am I right? Be a good girl — you are female, aren't you? I've been assuming you are, but you didn't answer me last time." The Irken's tone was slightly accusing.
"Yes." She mentally crossed her fingers and plunged ahead; it'd be one less mystery. "Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Female."
"No, I'm not," Purple said, antennae flaring back, then upright again. "Neither is Red. Couldn't you tell ?"
"…not really…."
"Well, now you know," Red told her.
"As I was saying …" Purple tapped the pitcher with a claw, making it ring like crystal. "Be good, and you get your water. Be bad, and you don't. Simple, hmm?"
Quin nodded. Not speaking was…safer … at the moment.
"That's settled, then. We'll send you back so you can get started."
"With what?"
"We gave you a room to work in, worm-baby," Red said. "The last one."
"It's empty. There's nothing in it but furniture."
The Tallest looked at each other. Purple groaned. "Fine," Red muttered. He cleared the screen. "What do you need?"
"Sewing machine," Quin said. "Needles. Material. Thread. Bobbins. Oh, god — it's been twenty years since I did this." She rubbed her temple. "Scissors, marking pens, straight pins, measuring tape, your measurements…"
"Are you implying something, human?" Purple asked, his tone disbelieving. "We've been Measured. We are the Tallest."
Quin gestured helplessly. "Not for that, for… for making stuff. Height, arms, waist, shoulders, legs…do you have legs?"
"Of course we have legs," Red snapped. "We use the hover platforms because they're cool."
"Okay! I didn't know!"
"Anything else?" Purple asked.
"What do you want me to make?"
The Tallest looked at each other. "I dunno…handkerchiefs, maybe?" Red suggested.
"We don't have noses, brainiac!"
"How about bibs?"
"How about you picking up some manners, Red?"
"I don't hear you suggesting anything!"
"Robes," Purple said. "Make us robes. You can use one of Red's as a model."
"One of mine?! Why one of mine?"
"Because you came up with the dumb ideas, that's why!"
It was like watching two frat boys argue over who had to make the beer run at the party, and as thought-out. Quin bit her thumbnail. Maybe that comparison wasn't so far off.
"Can I say something?"
The Tallest stopped arguing. Red shrugged. "You already did, but sure, go ahead."
She took a deep breath, and summoned up her Courtesy Desk voice.
"I'm honored by the attention you've shown me."
"As you should be," said Purple
"It's more than I deserve."
"No argument there," said Red.
"I apologize for attacking you. I was…" Outraged, livid, pushed beyond the limits of rational thought by an overwhelming urge to tear you limb from limb. "…a little miffed."
"Apology accepted," Purple said.
"Yeah, " Red echoed. "Understandable."
"Then…" Go big or go home. "…would you please put me in with the rest of the humans? Wherever they are?"
The Tallest looked at her. Their expressions were hard to read, but she would swear they were surprised. "Why?" Red asked.
"Because they're my people," Quin said. "You're both very… advanced ... and all, but…" Quin's voice trailed off.
"No," Red said.
"But why are you doing this?" Quin protested. "I can't do what you want. I can't sew. There was this woman from Missouri, Chris something --"
"This Chris person isn't our slave, you are," Purple said.
"-- she did great work on the Renfest circuit, she could make you robes, bibs, you name it -- but I can't!"
"We have your training files. You'll do fine"
"I failed!"
"Not by our standards, which are superior to yours."
Quin jumped up from her chair. "Dammit, will you listen to me?"
Like the last time, she didn't see it happen. A subtle shift in posture and stance, and instead of frat boys she faced beings whose every move and gesture evoked paralyzing, primal fear.
Purple floated toward her, frowning, antennae dipped down. "This is not helpful, Quin. We have listened to you."
"Then —"
"Veronica. That. Is. Enough. " Purple held his good claw to her lips. "Not another word, or you'll make us angry. You don't want that.
"Now. As I said, we have listened to you. We know your arguments. They're irrelevant. Our decision is final. As the most superior beings of a superior species, our reasons are beyond your comprehension. Suffice it to say we won't change our minds. Do you understand?"
Slowly, Quin nodded, staring at the floor. She didn't trust herself to look at them.
"Say it."
"I understand."
Purple raised her head. "I understand, my Tallest."
Meeting his eyes — and keeping her mouth shut — took all the control Quin had.
Purple sighed, rubbing his forehead with his bandaged claws. Red snorted. "You know, human, I don't know if you're incredibly brave or incredibly stupid." He sounded almost admiring.
"More like incredibly stubborn," Purple countered dryly. "Red, I think there's something our little person needs to see."
They left the audience chamber and headed down the corridor, the Tallest on either side. The guards outside fell in step as they passed; Purple waved them away. "No, no. We'll be fine. We're not going that far."
Purple was true to his word. Before long, the Tallest halted in front of another door, this one set with what appeared to be a blank, oversized keypad. Red ran a claw across it, and the door slid open.
The opposite wall immediately caught Quin's attention. Clear from floor to ceiling, it displayed a panoramic view of space. "This is an observation deck," Purple said, unnecessarily. He floated to the window. "Come look."
Quin obeyed. Nothing her captors wanted to show her would be for her benefit, but she was fascinated despite herself. She had been to Cape Canaveral and the local observatory, had seen NASA's video shots and pictures online. They were nothing compared to this. Blackness as far as she could see marred only by the shining ivory of the moon and the gem-bright pinpoints of distant stars.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Purple asked
"Yes," Quin breathed.
"It gets better." Red came up behind her. "Computer, lights off. Left wall."
Without a sound, the left wall became transparent. Quin stared.
The blackness was filled with spaceships. Dozens, hundreds, maneuvering in groups or simply hovering. Slowly, some broke free from formation and crossed into the main observation window's view. Not human ships — not even the most paranoid, whacked-out government conspiracy theorist would have come up with these crimson and amber monstrosities. Quin whirled around.
"Computer, right wall."
"No!" She turned for the door. A set of claws — Red's or Purple's she couldn't tell — seized her wrist.
The right wall went transparent. More and more ships, too many to count, for as far as she could see. The Tallest gazed at the assembled fleet with obvious self-satisfaction. "Our armada," Purple said proudly. "Isn't it wonderful?"
"Earth is behind you, if you want to look." Red dropped a comradely arm across her shoulders. She tried twisting out of his grasp and his claws dug into her upper arm. "You're on the mothership of the Irken Empire, the Massive. Home away from Irk, for us."
"For you, too, Quin," Purple added. "You're the only one of your kind on board the Massive, on any Irken vessel. Our loyal subjects and our ships surround you. Do you understand?"
Quin stared out the main viewing window, hands clenched into fists so tight her nails cut her palms. Despair and rage and helplessness threatened to overwhelm her. With all the technology and weaponry at its disposal, Earth had never had a chance.
Alone and isolated, neither did she.
"Quin? I'm waiting for your answer."
"Yes. I understand you perfectly."
Red groaned and threw his claws in the air. "Oh, geez, let's not go through this again! Purple, there's a perfectly good airlock not far from here—"
"Red, stop it. Don't play dumb, Quin. You know what's needed." He crossed his arms. "Or can you live without water now?"
"I understand you perfectly, my Tallest."
"See? Soon we won't need all this prodding and threats." Purple smiled, and tapped Quin on the nose. "It's only a matter of time."
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!