Housekeeping brought the new clothes the following afternoon. Black jeans, purple shirt, black vest, red Adidas. Quin looked at them spread out on the bed, then went and bathed again. She dressed, did her hair as the note tucked into her new shirt suggested, and sat down to wait.
She didn't have to wait long; fifteen minutes perhaps. The door rolled open and the guards gestured her out. One of them — the one who had shaken his head at her, she thought — looked her up and down. His right antenna twitched slightly.
As Purple had said, the guards took her to the Tallest's lounge. Quin felt a moment's panic as the door opened. This was too much like her first encounter with the Irken rulers, and just as uncertain.
"Hello, Quin." Purple smiled at her as she entered. He waved her to the couch across from the chairs he and Red occupied. "Sit down, sit down."
Quin sat down.
"Relax, already," Red told her. "This isn't an interrogation. We just want to ask you some questions."
"About Earth culture," Quin said.
Red smiled. "That's right."
"Why?"
"Why isn't important, Quin." Purple's tone was slightly scolding. "Just answer."
Quin shrugged. No sense in pushing for an explanation, and she might twig to their motives on her own. "All right. What do you want to know?"
"What is the importance of…." Purple picked up his electronic notepad. "…the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States of America?"
"The — " Quin stared at him. She had expected questions about art, about religion, about anything else but this. "Are you serious?"
"Very serious, Quin." Red folded his arms, eyes narrowed. "Now. Spill."
Quin leaned back on the couch. "The Declaration of Independence is just what it says: our declaration of independence from Britain. We were one of its colonies."
"You were alive back then?" Red asked.
"No. This happened almost two hundred years before I was born."
"Then how do you know this?"
"We're taught it in school. I like history, so I read quite a bit."
Purple made notes on his pad. He studied her, drumming his claws on the pad's frame. "Your… country, you called them, did you not? Your country broke away from its motherland. Why?"
"We were being treated unfairly by the Crown. George III, the king, wouldn't listen to our complaints about taxes."
"He was your king," Red said. He got up from his chair and began to pace. "It was his right to do with you as he pleased."
Quin shook her head. "No. Long before, the kings of England accepted the Magna Carta, granting their subjects certain rights. Monarchs couldn't do just anything they wanted."
"In theory." Red smirked.
Quin bit back a harsh retort. "In theory," she agreed. "But when they did, the consequences were high. Public outrage, scandal, even rebellion."
"Indeed." Purple looked her up and down. "So you're saying you colonials were unlawfully rebelling against your rightful sovereign."
"That's not what I'm saying. We tried to have our grievances addressed. Nothing came of it."
"Rebellion is always unlawful."
"No, it's not."
Purple didn't respond directly, but his antennae twitched. "These signers of this Declaration… they were the main troublemakers?" he asked. He ignored her correction of "revolutionaries" and pressed on. "Very bold of them, to pursue this action in secret. Very arrogant."
"The Declaration was read to the public."
"As I said. Very arrogant."
"It wasn't like that," Quin said irritably.
Red loomed over her. "If you weren't there, how do you know?"
A rhetorical question, undoubtedly, but Quin decided to answer it anyway. " The events were recorded by the participants, and by observers."
"And of course they were telling the truth," Red said sarcastically.
Quin glared at him. You wouldn't know the truth if it bit you in the ass. History was complicated, and the victors' stories were the most well-known, if not the whole truth. This wasn't the time or place for complexities. "Yes."
"Of course, of course," Purple said soothingly. He glanced at Red, who shrugged. "Your country's bold founders created this Constitution. What is it, exactly?"
"The principles of our government."
"Your laws, then."
"Yes. And the details of the branches of government, how they're set up, our rights."
"Branches of government?" Purple repeated. "Explain."
"There's three: legislative, executive, and judicial. Legislative writes the laws, executive signs them into law enacting them, and judicial makes sure they're constitutional."
"Huh." Purple made a face. "Awkward and silly, if you ask me. Power was too spread out."
"The arrangement was deliberate, so no one branch would dominate the other. "
Red snorted. "Even you pathetically inferior Earthenoids can't have a government that simple."
"It wasn't simple!" Quin snapped. "And it worked!"
"Really." Red fixed her with a stare. "Explain."
Red had lied. It was an interrogation. The Tallest tag-team grilled her on the American government system. Neither would let her follow a logical order, seizing on a chance word or phrase, then backtracking to an earlier comment. Some of their statements made Quin suspect they knew the answers before she gave them; others convinced her the Tallest knew nothing of the world they had conquered.
"This part still confuses me." Purple tapped his notepad, lips pursed. "The Bill of Rights. Tell me more about them, these 'rights'."
"Where do you want me to start?"
"Start with the first…amendment? What did it amend? Oh. Your constitution. Yes. Begin there."
"The First Amendment is…was…considered the most important."
"Which is why it was the first, I'd imagine." Purple smirked. "Continue."
"It guaranteed us the right of assembly, to associate with whom we wanted. Freedom of religion: the government couldn't create or allow one religion to become the official faith. Religions couldn't be banned from one area of the country simply because others didn't like them. Freedom of speech; the government couldn't censor what people wrote or said, even if it was unpopular. There were limits — you couldn't shout "Fire!" in a crowded theater — but you could criticize the government."
"You could speak out against your leaders?" Purple asked.
Quin nodded. "As long as you weren't making death threats, or going into slander or libel. You could advocate changing the government, even overthrowing the government." She paused. "Actually trying to overthrow the government… that was a crime."
"Military strategies and foreign policy were exempt from this amendment, of course."
"Not always. The Freedom of Information Act could be used to gain access to files and reports. The government would fight it, and sometimes win, sometimes not."
"Hold on there." Purple frowned. "You're trying to tell us that national secrets could be exposed for everyone to see, and your leaders could do nothing about it?"
"Yes."
Red and Purple exchanged looks.
"That's ridiculous!" Purple hovered up from his chair, waving his arms. "How in the name of Spork did you people survive!"
"We just did. The government coped. We coped."
Red snorted. "Coped with being an affront to the natural order is more like it. That religion thing doesn't make sense, either. Religion is pointless superstition, but if you have it, it should further strengthen the most superior — the rulers. And letting people congregate for any reason?" Red gestured in disgust. "That's just asking for trouble."
"I agree." Purple turned an openly disapproving gaze on Quin. She managed not to flinch. "No wonder you're a handful, with such an upbringing." He glanced down at his notepad. "The Second Amendment is next." He looked at her expectantly.
"'A well regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.'" It was one of the shortest amendments in the Bill of Rights, easily remembered. "In practice, that meant individuals could own guns."
"You mean your soldiers could own guns," Purple said, sitting down.
"No. Anyone, so long as they were of a certain age, didn't have a criminal record or wasn't mentally ill."
"Small, basically worthless sidearms," Red said. "You didn't have lasers, but your projectile weapons are still dangerous."
"Only fully automatic and military-grade weapons were illegal. Rifles, shotguns, handguns, semi-automatics… all of those were permitted."
"Then everyone who owned a gun was known to the authorities, to your law enforcement." Red's expression dared her to contradict him. Quin felt a grim satisfaction as she answered.
"Not really. I don't like guns and I never owned one, but I think you needed to register handguns. I know you had to have a license in some states to carry a concealed weapon, or have it kept in your car. Rifles and shotguns weren't registered…I don't know about the others."
Red loomed over her. "You're lying."
"I'm not."
The Tallest stared down at Quin. She stared back, fighting down the first stirrings of fear. "I never though I'd say this, Purple," he said, "but Zim was right. This planet needed conquering long ago. What did these — creatures — think they were doing?"
"Living," Quin snapped.
Red's antennae flared. "Hold your tongue, stinkbeast."
"Red." Purple rose from his chair. "We ask the questions, Quin. You answer them. We're making the comments. You're not. Let's continue, shall we?"
As they had earlier, the Tallest hammered her with questions, again jumping from topic to topic. Having finished with the Bill of Rights, they pushed on to the remaining amendments. Red started when Quin began to pace at one point, caught up in the discussion; a glance from Purple kept him seated. Drinks were brought in — sodas for the Tallest, a glass of water for her. Quin nursed it as long as possible.
Finally the Tallest seemed satisfied, or at least out of questions. Quin finished her water, sitting on the arm of the couch. Purple's antennae twitched; Quin pretended not to see.
"Interesting," Purple said at last. "Very interesting, how the most powerful nation of your world inhibited itself with such lofty goals. Tell me," he went on smoothly as Quin opened her mouth to respond, "how did you reconcile your country's ideals with its failings?"
She hadn't expected that question. Perhaps she should have. "I don't know what you mean."
"I think you do," the Tallest said easily. "They've been apparent throughout our discussion. Why wasn't slavery outlawed from the beginning?"
"The southern states insisted on it. John Adams tried to put it in the constitution, but the social mores of the time —"
"So long after your motherland, England, and other … civilized… countries banned it, you had your Civil War. Why did it a civil war nearly a hundred years later to do so? Yet even then your former slaves weren't truly free, were they? Another hundred years passed before that 'emancipation' was truly recognized."
"Yes, that's correct. But Jim Crow ended in this century."
"Slavery existed in your century, if not in your country," Red interrupted. "That argument doesn't work."
"We couldn't always control what other countries did."
"Yes, you could," Purple said. Through your money, through threats of invasion. Particularly in the last year, isn't that true?"
"And how well did they work?" Red asked. "How successful were your checks and balances, your laws, your 'liberty and justice for all'?"
Quin glared at him. "It wasn't perfect, but it was the best system we had. Many of us didn't agree with the administration's policies. We fought to change things."
"Your best wasn't good enough."
"You should have tried harder."
"But even if you had, you were doomed to fail." Red grinned. "Your species fell to the Irken Empire, just as every inferior species will."
"We're not inferior!"
"Really?" Purple smiled, shaking his head. "Whose world was conquered? Who's the slave?"
Quin had never believed in the benevolent, all-knowing "Space Brothers" who would lead mankind to a new age of peace and prosperity that were the subject of so many books and websites. In the back of her mind, however, she had always thought that if they existed, aliens would be … more socially advanced. Better than humans. Maybe those kinder, gentler aliens existed somewhere, but these weren't them. "You keep saying you're superior," Quin said in disgust, folding her arms. "I keep waiting for you to act like it."
Red slapped her.
She tumbled sideways off the couch, landing hard on her hip. After a moment's shock, she stood, face stinging.
Red hovered in front of her, eyes ruby coals. "Take that back, you filthy stinkbeast."
"No."
The Tallest slapped her again. Quin staggered, falling to her knees. She rose unsteadily. Her face felt as if it were on fire.
Red stared down at her, his expression murderous. "Take that back."
Her voice shook. She would never see a sunrise again. "No."
This time Red used his fist. The floor spun up to meet her lazily, a jewel-toned mandala; the table waltzed in slow-motion with the Tallest's chairs. Her hip again brushed the floor first, the rest of her flowing after like ripples on a pond. The carpet was soft as Pepper's fur against her skin. Pain-tears welled in her eyes; her ears rang. She thought her jaw was broken.
She looked past Red to Purple. Purple looked back at her, and sipped his soda.
Red bent down. "If you're not going to apologize for your insult, little one," Red said gently, "then stay there until I say otherwise."
Quin stayed there.
"You may rise," Red said at last. Quin got to her feet with agonizing slowness, using the couch as a support. The pain had spread to the rest of her body. Red tilted her head up, making her wince. "Do not say that ever again. Am I understood?"
Quin nodded, very slightly.
"You're insolent, little human. We have to punish you for that. Much as I'd enjoy the handling the chore personally, we've something else in mind." He paused, eyeing her expectantly. "Not curious, Quin? Nothing to say?"
Quin shook her head, very slightly.
"Good, good. You're learning!" Red broke into a grin. "Perhaps you're not such a stupid Earth monkey, after all. We'll find out. You're going to be waitressing the next Invader Happy Hour."
Red sank lower in his bathtub, eyes nearly closed. The cleansing gel was soothing. He was pleased with this new formula. At the moment, he was pleased with quite a number of things: Organic Sweep Operations and Planetary Configuration cooperation, the lack of contact in the past few days from Zim or Tak, the second shipment of dlors. He was especially pleased with how the "cultural exchange" session with Quin had turned out. Purple had been right about the human's reaction to their mockery and questions, if not to its extent. Anger surged through him at the memory. How dare she insult the Irken race — insult them , the Almighty Tallest — in such a way.
She wouldn't again. Not if she were smart, and Red had to admit she was clever, for an inferior being.
He also had to admit she had surprised him. To stand up and refuse to obey, twice…that was gutsy. Stupid, yes, but gutsy. There was potential there. Purple had his fun doting and fussing over their little slave like a favorite pet. He was entitled to his own fun with her. Laser target practice, maybe.
"My Tallest!"
"What is it?" Red glared at the cleansing chamber door. Whoever was out there had better have an excellent reason for disturbing him, or they were dead. They might be dead, anyway.
"I beg your forgiveness, my Tallest, but we've received word from Earth. They've found the remains of the FE-47."
"Excellent. And about time." Red got out of the bathtub and reached for his robe. "Has Tallest Purple been told?"
"Yes, lord. He wants to meet with you in the briefing room."
"Very well."
His co-ruler had the holographic map of Earth ready when Red arrived. "The FE-47 was shot down, all right," Purple said grimly. "Here." He tapped a section of the map; it magnified, replacing the image of the planet. "Along this huge…lake." Purple shuddered.
"Any indication of what shot it down?" Red asked.
"Yes. The squad found debris from another ship. Red, you won't believe this. It's dusajji."
"I knew it." Red bared his teeth in a grin. "I knew they had something to do with it. They're going to pay for this."
"They'll claim it was these pirates they were chasing."
Red waved a hand. "Let them. We have the upper hand, and they know it." He didn't believe in Desumu's pirates. The aliens' arrival had been a little too suspicious, a little too conveniently timed.
"So what do we do with it?"
Red looked at Purple. "Do with what?"
"Our upper hand!"
"Oh. Blow them out of space?"
"We made an agreement with them, Red."
"So? We'll break it! We're going to at some point."
Purple shook his head. "The nriu communication technology? The other stuff? Word got out fast — the viyshoon freighter out there's already sent us a bundle of medical procedures from their homeworld. We attack now, and we lose all that."
Red scowled. "Okay, okay. But we can't let them get away with it."
Purple munched thoughtfully on a nacho. "Maybe it was pirates after all. We should at least consider the possibility."
"All right." Red grabbed a handful of nachos from Purple's plate, ignoring Purple's scowl. "I've considered it. I still don't believe it."
"Then maybe we should let Desumu figure it out," Purple said.
"Huh?"
"Demand the Compact's help in the recovery process of both ships. Insist they determine what a dusajji ship was doing on Earth, and why it attacked one of ours instead of signaling as a non-combatant."
Red blinked. "You know, I like that idea. Wake up the Admiral?"
"Wake up his lieutenant, you mean." The briefing room door opened, and a service drone walked in with drinks. Purple took them and waved the drone away. "Intelligence has the report on her and the other one. Our little scholar's civilian, all right, nothing but. The pilot…" Purple handed a drink to Red and took a long pull of his own. "He was in their military training, but got kicked out. Couldn't take orders well. He was a contraband pilot for years until he was caught… apparently did quite a few runs along our territory. Neither's worth trying to get our hands on."
"I don't know." Red rubbed his chin. An idea was forming in the back of his mind. "Let's go to the bridge and get them on the screen."
"Your Excellencies?" Feywu blinked. Red hid a grin. The diplomatic liaison wasn't rubbing her eyes and yawning, but she was close.
"Lieutenant." Red kept his voice harsh — no niceties now. "One of our fighter-escorts was shot down during Earth's pacification. Search teams recently recovered the debris. Mixed in with that debris were the remains of a dusajji ship."
Feywu stared. "That's impossible, Your Excellency," she replied slowly. "The Bubastis and the Akinama are the only Compact vessels, let alone dusajji vessels, to be in this system in the last year."
Red narrowed his eyes. "Are you calling me a liar?"
"No, Your Excellency, of course not. I apologize for giving you that impression. But there could have been a misidentification —"
"Our search teams know their business, Lieutenant," Purple cut in. "They don't make mistakes. The other ship was definitely one of yours. The question now is what are you going to do about it?"
"As a representative of the Compact, I tender our sincere apologies — "
"We don't want apologies," Red snarled. "Your ship attacked ours. We want justice, Lieutenant."
"Your Excellency," Feywu said. "I feel I must point out the possibility that pirates, not Compact forces, took out your ship."
Red leaned forward; this is what he had been hoping for. "Prove it."
"The evidence would need to be examined by experts, Your Excellency. We don't have the necessary equipment here."
"Not all the debris is microscopic. Some is quite sizable. Pirates often make custom modifications, do they not? If this ship had significant modifications, Lieutenant, we will … take your theory into consideration."
"We don't expect you to do this," Purple said. "You were a scholar, after all, not an expert in criminal behavior. But your pilot should have the necessary experience."
The liaison's ears twitched. Red allowed himself a small smirk. "I believe he does," Feywu said. "He can be planetside at your convenience, Your Excellencies."
"Since it's currently night at the crash site, shall we say, in twelve hours?"
Feywu nodded. "Warrant Officer dhus Saarvi will be there, Your Excellency."
Purple smiled. "Thank you, Lieutenant. The coordinates will be relayed to you shortly."
"And just to show there's no hard feelings, we'd like to invite you to the Invader Happy Hour," Red said.
Purple gaped at him. "We would?"
"Yes, we would." Red threw his arms wide, elbowing Purple in the side.
"I am honored, Your Excellencies, but I must decline," Feywu said.
"Why?" Red asked. "It's just a Happy Hour. You know, drinks, nachos, relaxing? Not a formal occasion, I'll admit." Red studied his claws. "But perhaps a better venue for celebrating the cooperation and goodwill between us."
The faces of the felinoid aliens were hard to read. To Red, however, Desumu's flunky radiated doom. "Then of course I'll be happy to attend."
"Good!" Red beamed. "See you in two days, Lieutenant. Bye!" He shut off the transmission.
Purple whirled on him as soon as the screen went black. "What in the name of Spork got into you? Inviting her to the Invader Happy Hour? On the Massive ?"
"She may not have military secrets, but I bet she knows something."
"About what?" Purple demanded.
"What Desumu's up to. What the Compact's up to. What other threats this backward planet holds. Something. She may not be worth torturing, but a little … pressure… at the right time could get us answers." He drank his soda. "Or at least be fun."
Purple made a face. "You get to deal with her most of the time then."
Red shrugged. "Fine by me." He rubbed his chin, struck by a sudden thought. "Purple, there's only the three of them on that ship. Do you think that they…you know? Together?"
Purple made a gagging noise. "Red, that's disgusting! Maybe you should ask."
The Tallest looked at each other and laughed.
"You did what?" Desumu roared, pounding his fist on the meeting room table.
"Accepted an invitation to Invader Happy Hour on the Massive," Feywu repeated.
She woke up the Admiral as soon as the Tallest disappeared from the screen, a decision she was beginning to regret, Standard Operating Procedure or no Standard Operating Procedure. Desumu's temper wouldn't have been any worse in the morning, the situation would not have changed, and they all would have gotten more sleep.
"Lieutenant," the Admiral said slowly, "do you realize what you have gotten yourself into?"
"A social outing with our … associates, sir. Their idea, not mine. Given the circumstances, I didn't see how I could refuse." Feywu managed to keep her voice calm. She had expected Desumu to be more upset about the supposed attack upon Irken forces by a Dusajji ship rather than the casually tossed-off invitation, unorthodox as it was.
"You've agreed to a night of endless attempts to force you to lose your temper and cause a scene. We're not on an equal footing with the Irkens, dhus Atkir, and they know it. If they can trick you into breaking the rules of engagement set up by the LTOW Accords, they will. A bit of advice, dhus Atkir. Fear Tallest Red for your body. Fear Tallest Purple for your mind." He scowled. "I am not happy about this."
Feywu glanced away. She'd done the best she could. It hadn't been good enough. "Admiral," Feywu said bitterly, "if there's anyone less happy about this than me, I'd like to meet her."
#
"Knock, knock! Quin, are you awake?"
Quin raised her head, blinking. The Tallest had sent her back to her cell not long after lunch with instructions to bathe again and take a nap. "You're going to be up late and on your feet," Red told her. "You'll need it." She remembered lying on her bed and staring up at the ceiling; she hadn't expected to actually fall asleep.
The bedroom door opened. Purple swept to the side of the bed, followed by a service drone carrying a package wrapped in green tissue paper. The Tallest canted an eye at her, arms akimbo. "Hmph. Not quite, huh?"
Quin sat up. "I wasn't expecting you. Sorry." The Tallest barged into her sewing room whenever it pleased them. Which fortunately wasn't often. They'd never bothered with her bedroom until now. The invasion of her privacy rankled.
"Oh, I know. Housekeeping just finished your outfit for tonight, and I thought I'd surprise you with it."
The thought of a surprise from Purple made her nervous. "You shouldn't have."
"Well, I did." Purple waved a claw at the foot of the bed. The drone set down the package and scurried from the room. "I know you'll like it. Go ahead. Open it."
Quin slowly unwrapped her gift. She looked at the contents, then at Purple.
"You've got to be kidding."
"I'm not. Now put them on. I won't watch." Purple spun around.
Quin stared at Purple's back, wishing for something sharp and pointy and very painful. His intrusion into her bedroom was bad enough. She was not taking her clothes off in his presence.
"Quin, I don't hear you undressing. Get busy."
Quin gritted her teeth. "Yes, my Tallest."
"It fits," Purple said a few minutes later. "I'm so pleased."
"I'm glad one of us is," Quin muttered. She glared at her reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of her bedroom door. Deep denim blue hip-hugger jeans lived up to their name, low-slung and tight. A bar towel was tucked through a belt loop. A gray midriff top ended just below her breasts, baring more skin than she had in years, and had spelled out in large black letters PROPERTY OF THE MASSIVE.
"You don't like it?" Purple asked in a hurt voice.
"No."
"Well, you should like it. You wore something similar when you worked in that bar." The Tallest smirked. "We said we knew everything about you, remember? Intelligence raided your apartment. Photo albums and scrapbooks are very informative. Now, then." Purple tapped his chin. "Just one little thing left."
He reached into his pouch and brought out a gold chain with a gold pendant shaped like the Irken armada's logo. He held it out to Quin. The front gave her full name and species. On the back, it read, "If lost or escaped, please return to the Almighty Tallest upon pain of death."
"You're not leaving the Massive," Purple said, taking the 'dog tag' out of her grasp and patting the edge of the bed for her to sit down, "but I liked it. Besides, accidents do happen. Better safe than sorry, yes?" He looped the chain over her head. Quin eyed his long, claw-like fingers as he fussed with the placement of the pendant and made sure the chain lay flat.
"Don't even think about it," Purple said pleasantly, giving the dog tag a tweak. He brought his face close to hers and bared his teeth in a smile. "I bite back."
Quin studied her reflection in his solid-colored eyes, small and pale and vulnerable. Her gaze slid away.
Purple straightened, arms folded across his chest. "Quin, you've been very rude to me since I hovered through the door. Are you still sulking from the other night?"
Sulking? Quin hugged her knees. She'd been angry and afraid and confused at and felt betrayed for no reason she could logically name. She still did. She wasn't sulking.
Purple sighed heavily. "Quin. Look at me." When she didn't obey he turned her head to face him. "That last comment you made was a grave insult. Anyone else who said such a thing would have been killed immediately. We were lenient because we chose to be; we may not be so lenient again. We've discussed the matter. Tallest Red will oversee your discipline."
"What?" Purple was playing with her. He had to be.
The Tallest chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. "I know you heard me the first time, Quin. I don't know why you insist on pretending you didn't. If you behave, you won't be punished. I think even a human could understand that. I don't want to see you hurt, but there's not much I can do if you cause trouble." He smoothed her hair, brushing it away from her eyes, then stepped back to examine his handiwork.
"Quin, put your arms down, please, and stand up. Yes, that's better. Come along — I'll take you to the lounge."
A squad of guards fell in behind them as they entered the corridor. Purple didn't seem to notice. Quin snuck glances at them. These weren't her guards, or the ones who normally served the Irken rulers. They were her own height, perhaps an inch or two taller, and their uniforms more detailed in black and red. They didn't look at her at all.
Purple paused outside the lounge's main door. "I'm using our private entrance. I'll see you inside, Quin." He smiled, not entirely kindly, and continued down the hall.
The lounge door opened. Quin took a deep breath, and went in.
Tables crowded the floor, more than the lounge usually had. Metal globes flashed colors lights from the ceiling, randomly spotting everything with shades of purple and red. Viewscreens in each corner displayed scenes of ceremonies and battles. A low murmur of voices filled the air. Irkens — more Irkens than Quin had seen in one place — occupied the tables, clustered in front of the long snack counters or the wet bar. Eating, drinking, talking, arguing over some game board. The alien nearest the door glanced up as he took a drink. He sputtered, his antennae flaring, and hissed.
Silence crashed down like a wave. As one, every Invader present turned and looked at Quin.
From what Quin could see, none of them were near the height of the Tallest, or even the Tallest's advisors. At this moment, they didn't look threatening — weird, yes, but not threatening. Another, more generous person might even have called them cute.
"Your attention, please." Purple's voice sang out smooth and clear. The Invaders turned to the Tallest. He was sitting in his usual chair, legs crossed negligently, chin propped in one hand. He sounded amused. "This is my and Tallest Red's slave, Quin. She will be your server tonight."
The Invaders swiveled back to Quin.
Quin's mouth went dry. They were all just…looking .. at her. Expectantly. Maliciously.
"Hey!"a pink-eyed Irken shouted. "Stinkbeast! Gimme a soda!"
"I want nachos, Earth monkey!" his neighbor added.
"Dlors, heavy on the frosting! And purple frosting this time! Purple frosting rocks!"
"Cheesy Grubs, meat-child, and a gin an' tonic!"
"Patience, patience. She'll get to you all. But not if she stands there like a log." Purple giggled. "Better get moving, Quin."
More orders and insults followed Quin to the snack bar. She slammed a can of Irken soda and a platter of nachos onto a tray and retraced her steps to the pink-eyed Invader. He grimaced. "That's not the kind I wanted!"
His buddy flung the nachos back at her. "And these nachos are cold!"
Something smacked her on the ass. "Hey, human slave, get a move on!"
Quin ground her teeth, and glared over her shoulder at Purple. The Tallest waved.
It was going to be a long night.
A Spittle Runner took Feywu to the Massive.
Desumu refused to recall Mox to fly the Bubastis' own shuttle. He stood over Feywu's shoulder as she carefully worded a reply to the Tallest's message arranging transportation. "Let them know you expect to them to bring you there, since our shuttle is being used to their benefit," the Admiral had said. "Don't ask. The need to mention this is an insult. They know the proper protocol."
As Desumu predicted, the Tallest played along. In the end Feywu waited in the mainlock for the Bubastis' connection with the Irken ship. Desumu had simply looked at her as the door closed. She didn't blame him. What could he say at this point? Don't foul up again?
She saw the warning lights flash, felt the shudder as the connectors grabbed hold. The warning lights glowed green. The mainlock opened.
Feywu walked forward into the Spittle Runner.
The tiny vessel's pilot swung around to face her. Its antennae twitched. "Greetings from the Irken Empire, filthy alien."
Feywu gave a cool smile. The antagonism was starting already, and more blatant than expected. Testing her limits, most likely. "Greetings from the Dusajji Compact."
Nothing else was said as the connectors were withdrawn, and the Spittle Runner veered off for the Massive. The flagship's docking bay entrance spiraled open, engulfing the smaller ship. The pilot set them down on the deck. Feywu's spine hair stood on end as the ship's ramp unfolded.
No return now.
Another insult — she descended the ramp alone. At its foot, however, stood one of the Almighty Tallest with a squadron of guards. Her claws itched to extend, an instinctive response to a threat. From Desumu's briefing she knew that the Tallest were estimated to be nine feet tall; no official statement of their height existed. Reading that statistic was one thing. Standing within inches of a nine-foot Tallest was another.
"Ah, Lieutenant dhus Atkir!" Tallest Red smiled widely. "A pleasure to meet you in person at last!"
Feywu stopped the prescribed distance, and nodded. "The honor is mine, Your Excellency."
The Irken ruler laughed. "Always so carefully correct, Lieutenant. Protocol's been given its due. Let's be a little less formal now, okay?"
Feywu nodded again. "As you wish, Almighty Tallest."
"Just Tallest Red, Lieutenant — can I call you Lieutenant? — I won't even insist on the 'my'." He gestured. "This way. Tallest Purple's waiting for us in the lounge."
The guards fell in behind them as the Tallest escorted her from the docking bay. Feywu didn't try to memorize the numerous twists and turns of the corridors. She concentrated on ignoring the eye-searing color scheme of the alien ship and following Red's chatter. He seemed in love with the sound of his own voice and rambled from topic to topic: the efficiency of Spittle Runners, the stupidity of someone called Zim, the superiority of lasers to smoke machines. He sounded like a small-change politician.
But he wasn't. She had to remember that. The mission — her life — depended on it.
"Here we are!" Red swept to a halt in front of a door, running a claw across the access console. "The back entrance to our lounge, don't want to cause a scene among the Invaders." He waved her in first, grinning.
The first thing Feywu noticed was the noise. The lounge rang with a cacophony of shouts and laughter; discerning who was speaking, let alone what was being said, was impossible. Her ears flattened instinctively. The second was the smell. Tallest Red's scent, alien though it was, had barely intruded on her awareness. Now the scent of Irken bodies mixed jarringly with the odor of fried foods, floral cleaning agents, and…. Feywu's nose twitched.
No. Impossible. Not on this ship.
Tallest Red patted her arm. "Too loud for you, huh?" he asked solicitously. Whether he meant the noise or the smell, she couldn't tell. "Well, there's not much we can do about that. It's the Invaders' Happy Hour, and they get to do what they want. Purple's over there, on the dais. We have a chair for you."
"Lieutenant!" Purple greeted her warmly as they approached. "The trip over was good?"
"Yes, thank you." She could hear again; the noise of the Happy Hour dimmed to a faint roar. Her relief must have been obvious because Purple said, "Variable sound-proofing technology. Not completely soundproof, you understand, we want to be accessible to our soldiers. But enough to let us have a nice conversation." He patted the arm of the extra chair. "Please, sit down."
Feywu sat down between the Tallest. She was supposed to feel intimidated, of course. She refused to be intimidated.
"So, Lieutenant, what do you think of our capital ship?" Purple asked. A tray dropped form the ceiling with drinks, large platters of nachos, curly fries and other snacks and finger foods. Feywu took the glass offered her. Some type of soda, by the scent. She sipped it cautiously, gathering her thoughts.
"I've only just arrived, and Tallest Red brought me straight here, so please keep that in mind," Feywu said. "What I have seen is most impressive."
"And massive." Purple elbowed Red. The Tallest giggled, as if at a private joke.
Red leaned down to Feywu. "Your Compact doesn't have anything like it, do they?"
"No," Feywu said.
The Irken ruler nodded. "Your warships might come close, I suppose. Especially the Akinama."
"It might. I've never been on the Akinama, or any other warship, for that matter."
"That's right," Purple said. He raised his soda and studied the light filtering through the glass. "You're really just a scholar, aren't you? Admiral Desumu …recruited … you because of your expertise."
Feywu met the Tallest's gaze. Here it comes. "That's my supposition, Your Excellency."
"I see." Purple steepled his claws. "Such privilege wouldn't be extended to an academic."
Feywu shrugged. There wasn't a good answer she could give; barring emergencies Compact warships were off-limits to non-military personnel. She wondered what the aliens were getting at. Sly pokes at civilian "inferiority" might have worked with Mox. Not her.
"Did you enjoy your studies, Lieutenant?"
Feywu's ear twitched. The Tallest seemed honestly interested, the question free of mockery. They're jerks, not idiots. Fear Tallest Purple for your mind.
"Very much so." Best to keep her reply as neutral as possible."
"Enough to pursue a Scholar's rank in two fields simultaneously. To be perfectly honest, Lieutenant, I can't picture Earth being quite that interesting."
"As Admiral Desumu mentioned we — the dusajji — have a historical connection to the world."
"Yes, he did." Purple eyed her thoughtfully. "Yet I got the impression your attachment was more personal than professional. You spent quite a lot of time planetside, did you not?"
"Archaeology and geology are both hands-on studies, if you want to do more than laboratory analysis.
"True," Purple admitted. "But you offered assistance on human psychology. Seems to me that indicates more intimate contact with the natives than usual."
"An anthropology primer was a requirement." She shrugged. "Besides, the native psychology is an angle few Scholars in my fields have explored."
"Ah. Going where no Scholar has gone before?"
Feywu allowed herself a small grin. Let them think they were putting her at ease. "Something like that, Your Excellency."
The Irken rolled his eyes. "Tallest Purple, puh-leese. This is not a formal occasion."
Two Invaders wrestled under a table. At least, Feywu hoped they were wrestling. "So I gathered."
"If your offer still stands, we might take you up on it." Red shoveled a handful of nachos into his mouth, chewing noisily. "Your insight into the stinkbeasts could make deciding what to do with them easier."
"Excellent point, Red." Purple heaped curly fries on a small serving plate and topped them with a generous portion of ketchup. "We'll need to know what qualities are needed for the animal preserve staff. The sales associates are easy. We've too many candidates for them, in fact. These humans are so docile!"
It was a good time to become very interested in her soda. Feywu took a long drink with hopes of drowning the urge to dump the stuff over Purple's head.
"Not all of them, Purple." Red's gaze flicked over the room..
His co-ruler waved a claw. "You worry too much! She's been no trouble at all." Purple, too, turned and looked out at the crowd of Irkens. "Though some of our Invaders do play a little … rough, I think she's even been having fun."
Red snorted, still surveying the other aliens with narrowed eyes. "Right."
Feywu hesitated, then looked where the Tallest's attention seemed to be focused on a knot of Invaders. They blocked her view; she couldn't see what had caught their interest at first. Then a fist suddenly shot into the air above their heads, the Invaders parting like soldiers on inspection, and Feywu's ears flattened in shock.
Her nose hadn't lied to her earlier.
A human female stood there, a round tray clutched in one hand like a shield, the other still in a fist but resting on one hip. The Invaders howled with laughter, and she pushed her way through them, stalking over to the food counter. Humiliation and rage wafted off her like perfume.
"Is there something wrong, Lieutenant?" Red asked.
"Nothing," Feywu replied. "I'm … merely surprised to see a human here."
"She's our slave."
"She's our pet."
Red glared at Purple, who shrugged and looked away, toying with his robe's collar. "She attacked us," Red continued. "Attacked Tallest Purple, more precisely. We thought slavery a fitting punishment."
Feywu arched an eyebrow. Attacked the Tallest? When and how had that happened? "You didn't kill her?"
"We considered it," Purple said. "But we were in the mood for something more creative."
"I see," Feywu said.
"Want to up close?" Red asked. He leaned forward, shaking his glass. "Hey! Stinkbeast! When you're done, we need refills over here!"
Purple laughed. "Good idea, Red. Let's show off our little person's paces." He paused, glancing at Feywu. "That is, if it won't upset our Scholar friend here."
Feywu inclined her head, shrugging eloquently and hiding her own flare of anger. "If it pleases you, it pleases me. Your are my hosts, and this is your home, after all."
"Hah!" Red slapped her on the back. "When your oh-so-perfect manners don't annoy the hell out of me, sometimes I think I could actually like you!"
"You flatter me, Your Excellency."
Red smiled at her; it was not a pretty sight. "Not really. Quin! Get your sorry human butt over here !"
The human scurried over. Her gray eyes widened in shock the one time she looked at Feywu, before The Tallest commanded her attention. Feywu watched the human load up her tray with the Tallest's discarded glasses and dishes, responding to Red's insults and Purple's concern with the same bland deference. The dusajji had spent a good deal of time around the dominant intelligent species of Sol III disguised as one of them. She knew how they reacted — how they could react— to stress and endangerment to their bodies and to their pride. Some would strike out. Some would give in, broken completely. Some would act cowed and bide their time. This woman's mannerisms, her posture… Whatever outward obedience she displayed, she was not one of Purple's docile humans.
The human returned with the Tallest's refills, then went off to serve the Invaders again. Purple sighed. "She's such a dear."
"She's a pain and a nuisance," Red snapped. "She doesn't know her place."
"She'll learn," Purple said placidly. "You can't deny she keeps things interesting."
"Interesting." The ruby-eyed Tallest snorted. He swiveled around and stared at Feywu. "Tell me, Lieutenant. Do you think the human's interesting?"
Feywu sipped her refreshed soda. Suddenly the evening didn't seem quite so … odious. Barring some irrevocable false step on her part, she'd have an unusual report to make when she got back to the Bubastis, if nothing else. "Actually, Tallest Red," she said thoughtfully. "I do, indeed."
"Really." Red folded his hands in his lap. "That's nice. So. Do you all screw the Admiral at once, or do you take turns?"
Feywu choked on her soda.
"Hey, are you all right?" Red pounded on her back enthusiastically. Too enthusiastically. Her ribs felt bruised. "Can't have our diplomatic liaison keeling over on us!"
"We're so sorry, Lieutenant," Purple said smoothly. "Was that supposed to be a secret?"
Feywu gulped in air, rubbing pain-tears from her eyes. "Fraternization between higher and lower-ranking officers is prohibited, Your Excellencies."
"Oh, okay," Red said. "So when you got promoted you had to stop?"
Feywu mentally bared her teeth. It was going to be a long night.
Cheese sauce slopped over the edge of the bowl and onto Quin's skin. She yelped and dropped the bowl on the table, yanking the bar towel from her belt. Already stained and soggy, it did little beyond smear the scalding yellow mess even more. Hissing, she snatched up the nearest glass and dumped the contents over her arm.
"Watch what you're doing, wormbaby — hey, that was mine, filthy! You just better —"
Quin ignored Invader Skutch's tirade and used his untouched napkins to clean up. The alien soda and pseudo-ice was as cold as the cheese sauce was hot, but it also stained. Purple had already commented on her towel and the spots on her jeans. How he'd respond if she "got herself injured" as he put it, she didn't know and didn't care to speculate, special guest in attendance or not. Whoever — whatever — the alien seated with them on the dais was, she wasn't keeping the Tallest from enjoying themselves at Quin's expense.
She pitched the wad of soggy napkins into the least overflowing trashcan and went to get a refill for Skutch. A wad of even soggier napkins smacked against her neck. Quin tossed them over her shoulder. An Invader with a huge skinny head stuck out his leg; Quin stepped over it. She couldn't dodge the booted foot that hooked her left knee, however, and went sprawling. Gloved, three-fingered hands grabbed and poked her as she struggled to her feet.
"Human, bring me another soda." Red's voice cut through the laughter. The hands released her.
"Faster next time, stinkbeast," the Tallest said, glaring as if she'd dawdled on purpose. "And the coldest can, too." Red waved her away. "You may go."
"Be thankful you had to serve our Almighty Tallest, dirt-monkey," Skutch snarled as she set down his refill. "Or you'd really know pain!"
Quin ignored him, and retreated for the lounge's far corner. The evening's torment ran in a pattern. The Invaders would order her around, slowly increasing the amount of pinches, slaps, and trips until one of the Tallest requested something. Then it would stop and she'd be left alone for a while until the cycle started again.
She collapsed onto a chair, wincing. She'd have a lovely collection of bruises by the time this night was over. Her legs and arms were the favorite targets, but other body parts had their share. Her chest fascinated more than a few of the Invaders, for some reason. So much for species differences. She examined her arm; it was a bright, shiny pink and already beginning to blister. Wonderful. On top of the abuse from the Invaders, Red might beat her for being careless.
"Human! Zim demands snacks. Bring snacks to Zim!"
Quin looked over her right shoulder. The smallest Irken in the room — the same tiny alien partly responsible for Earth's subjugation — scowled at her. He shook a basket that had held some sort of Irken junk food. He flung the basket at her. It landed on the table, barely missing her nose.
Quin rose to her feet. She skirted the Invaders' tables, topped off the basket with random handfuls of snacks. Zim followed her every move, right down to when she set his snack basket in front of him.
"You are an adequate slave, human. You do Zim's conquest of your pathetic stinking world proud."
As if Zim's praise was a cue, the orders came fast and furious. "Oh, Quin? I need more ketchup. Thanks."
"Stinkbeast, more suck-monkeys!"
"We're outta napkins."
"More rum and sodas."
"Dlor frosting! Not the dlors, just the frosting!"
"One of those cupcake thingies, human, one decorated with lasers."
"Lasers? It's always lasers with you! Quin, two cupcakes with smoke machines, if you please…"
Perhaps it was the number of requests from the Tallest, but the Invaders kept their hands to themselves. Going from the tables to the food and drink counters was fairly easy. For a short time Quin believed she might get through the rest of the night unscathed. She set down her latest order and eyed the chair in the far corner longingly.
"I need more soda, Veronica."
Quin's head snapped around. No one here but the Tallest should know her first name, and no one here should be using it. A female Invader nodded, teeth flashing in a brief smile, purple eyes crinkling at the corners. Quin's stomach knotted. Of course. The other Invader.
"The vanilla-flavored cola, if you please, " Tak said.
Quin brought Zim's counterpart her soda. Tak nodded regally in dismissal. Quin looked at her, then headed for her corner.
"Veronica, I want nachos."
Quin froze in midstep. Using her name once was an accident. Using it twice was an insult. Using it a third time was calling her out for a fight. Tak was an alien, but she had infiltrated Earth society undetected for years. She had to know what she was doing.
Quin veered off to the food counter, heaped a plate with nachos and sauce, and brought it to Tak. It wasn't worth it, Quin told herself. It just wasn't worth it. She wasn't a teenager with a chip on her shoulder and something to prove. Answering a calling-out was a game for stupid kids and even more stupid adults. If she didn't play along, Tak would get bored.
"Veronica," Tak said as Quin unloaded her tray, "Bring me a cupcake."
Quin made her way to the snack counter and took a cupcake from the rack "Hey, human!" The Invader at the table nearest the snack counter jabbed her in the ribs. "Get a move on, I want a refill!"
Quin stared down at her tray. She was tired. The cupcake had green icing, with the Irken logo done in black. She was so…tired… and fed up….
"Veronica!" Tak shouted. "I want my cupcake!"
Quin picked her way through the crowd to Tak. She set the tray down on the table, picked up the cupcake, and smashed it into Tak's forehead.
"I'm sorry," Quin said, "but I have to go wait on the real Invaders."
Screeching, Tak launched herself at Quin.
Quin flipped Tak with a shoulder roll and sent her flying into the next table. Invaders skittered away as Earth's female conqueror gained her feet, shouting bets back and forth. Tak rounded on Quin, purple eyes narrowed to thin slits. "You dare to say I'm not an Invader? You attack me? You'll pay!"
Quin shrugged. She wasn't afraid, though she knew she should be. She felt calm, expectant, but curiously detached from any sense of danger or fear. The rage that had consumed her thoughts was crystallized into a single hard point. It left no room for fear.
Tak's spider legs extended from her pak. She crouched low, then sprang. Quin dodged and kicked out; her foot connected with Tak's side with a satisfying thud. Quin's lips curled in a snarl. Her last attack worthy of the name, most likely. A few aikido moves and street-fighting tricks against military combat training was no contest, but she'd inflict some pain on the bitch that had destroyed her world, oh, yes —
A spider leg slammed into her ribs. Quin rolled as far as she could, bumping up against the legs of the next table. Tak landed on her, tiny hands gripping her throat. "I'll flay you alive," Tak hissed. "Break every bone —."
"For telling the truth?" Quin elbowed her attacker between the eyes.
"Quin! Leave Tak alone!" Red bellowed.
"Throw mud on them!" someone shouted.
Quin shoved Tak off her, only to have a spider leg wallop her across the face.
"Both of you, that's enough! Alexovitch, Zee, separate them!"
Hands grabbed Quin from behind, dragged her to her feet. She tried to shrug them off; their grip tightened. Tak glowered at her, antennae flattened against her head.
Red floated up behind Tak. "That was rather entertaining, I'll admit, but we say when the fights start."
Quin's eyes never left Tak. If the Irkens holding her would loosen their grip, just a little…. "Stay out of this, Roger."
"What did you say?"
"Mind your own business." Those antennae were vulnerable. Grabbing them should hurt.
Red slapped her. "Don't speak to me like that, slave. And don't call me Roger!"
Quin looked at him.
"Why not?" she asked. "You could be my old boss. You act just like him." The crystallized rage within her shattered. "You're rude, stupid, arrogant, insensitive, love to hear yourself talk, blame everyone else for everything that goes wrong, can't admit a mistake even though you're so damn incompetent it's a wonder you can wipe your own ass.
"Your name should be Roger. You're nothing but a Roger-stupid, Roger-ugly, Roger-voiced, Roger-brained …BUG !"
Her shout echoed in the suddenly silent lounge. Quin grinned widely at Red, chest heaving. He could take away her water, he could beat her, but she had got him. She had got him.
"You…" Red literally shook with anger. "You called me…"
"Quin." Purple floated up beside his co-Tallest and patted his shoulder. His tone was calm, but his eyes were edged with violet flames. "For the second time in a week, you insult us. Some words are not spoken in our presence. That last was the worst of them."
Quin blinked. "Bug?"
Purple swept in front of her, straightening to his full height. "Yes."
Her euphoria evaporated in the face of Purple's displeasure. Quin swallowed. The Purple that had doted on her earlier in the day was gone as if he never existed. "I didn't know. I'm sorry."
Purple shook his head slowly. "'Sorry' isn't good enough, little one." He glanced at Red, then to the dais. "Lieutenant, if you'll excuse us? We have urgent business to take care of." He gave Quin a gentle push toward the lounge entrance. "Go on, Quin. We'll be right behind you."
The Tallest flanked Quin as they led her through the Massive's maze of corridors, away from the familiar areas of bridge and briefing room and lounges. Neither spoke. A final turn, and they faced a door flanked by the same type of guards who had escorted Purple to the Happy Hour. The guard on the right nodded, and slid his hand over the access panel. The door rolled open.
The room beyond was small, the smallest Quin had seen yet. A computer console took up the right-hand wall; a couch was pushed up against the left. In the center was ….
"Do you know what this is, Quin?" Red asked. "Any ideas?"
"A shower stall?" It looked like one, only eight feet tall, four feet wide and fully enclosed, made from the same material as the Massive itself.
Red laughed. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her in front of it. "No, no! It's A World of Pain, little human — as you're going to find out." He glanced at Purple. "Full strength, half an hour."
"Ten minutes, half-strength."
"Oh, just feed her juice and cookies, why don't you?"
"She's human, Red. We don't know how —"
Red scowled, then shrugged. "Oh, all right. Ten minutes, half-strength." He nodded to the Irken at the computer console. The stall's front side spiraled open.
Panicking, Quin jumped back, fighting Red's hold. "My Tallest, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry —"
Red shoved her inside.
The portal spiraled shut. Tiny bands of material shot from the walls, looped around her wrists, ankles and neck. The wall's opacity disappeared. The Tallest were sitting on the couch. Red waved at her jauntily. Purple looked sad but stern, a master forced to punish a beloved but disobedient pet. He wasn't going to save her. Not this time. Maybe not ever.
The loops tightened, immobilizing her. A low-pitched whining sound filled the chamber. Quin realized dimly it came from her.
A chill ran down her spine, not unlike the reaction to squeaky chalk on a chalkboard. After a few moments, the chill increased. Quin shivered, her teeth chattering. Was this it? Was this all? Please, God, let this be all —
The chill blossomed into searing pain. Pain that froze, pain that burned. Quin screamed. Existence narrowed to the agony dancing along every nerve that pushed her to the edge of unconsciousness…but not over.
Quin screamed.
Finally, the restraints retracted into the wall; the chamber's portal spiraled open Quin flailed for the opening and stumbled out. After two steps, Quin collapsed, tears streamed down her face uncontrollably. The guards grabbed her under the arms and dragged her upright. Quin sagged between them, her legs felt made of putty. The Tallest watched impassively.
"Return her to her nest," Red told the guards.
The world narrowed to the effort of placing one foot in front of the other. She didn't remember the walk to her cell; the next thing she was truly aware of was falling onto the bed, and then, into darkness.
#
"It sounds likes you had an eventful evening, dhus Atkir." Desumu leaned back in his chair, watching the younger dusajji pace, regretting the words as soon as he spoke them. His lieutenant had done her best to give her report as professionally as possible, but her personal outrage at the Tallest's behavior had been apparent.
"If that's how you wish to call it," Feywu said. Desumu sighed, and leaned his arms on the table.
"You did very well, Lieutenant. Even if you did spray a mouthful of soda when Red asked about our mating habits."
The attempt at levity fell flat. Feywu shrugged. Desumu sighed again. His optimism that the Happy Hour might prove a treasure-trove of intelligence had popped like a soap bubble. But he'd take what he could get.
"Tell me about this human again."
"Female, Caucasian, from the North American landmass. American citizen, most likely; her accent wasn't Canadian. The Tallest said she attacked them … the exact circumstances they didn't say. They enslaved her for her entertainment value." Feywu snorted. "They didn't find her insulting Red very entertaining."
"I'm sure she supplies with them with all kinds of amusement," Desumu said absently. "Though that alone wouldn't keep them from killing her outright. They've some other use for her."
Feywu made a choking noise. Desumu shot her a look.
"Not that kind of use, Lieutenant. By and large, the average Irken finds sexual contact of any sort disgusting." He rubbed his chin. "We'll have to find out what their true interest in her is."
"Purple said she was their pet." Feywu's expression turned sour. "And 'was' maybe the operative word, by now. The Tallest said she had been sent back to her "nest", as they put it, but…."
Desumu thought a moment, then shook his head. "They may have killed her, but if they had, they would have made a spectacle of it for their Invaders, particularly if she did insult them as they claimed. No, entertainment by itself is not a viable possibility. Go through their uncoded communications," he said suddenly.
"All of them?"
"All of them." Desumu reflected on what they had in their hand, good and bad. The SOS Mox had picked up from an area suspected to be populated by rebels. The Irkens' missing ship, and the debris they claimed came from the dusajji ship that destroyed it — if the Huntmother was kind, Mox would have more information on what was truly going on there within days. They couldn't afford to have the Irkens be right this time. And now, this human slave of the Tallest, alternately punished and pampered, according to Feywu. A human with unheard of access to the Tallest, and superb reason to hate them.
"Suktara and Kesh have graced me with puzzle pieces, Lieutenant. It's up to me to make them fit."