Roe marched into his office with his customary vigor, more out of habit
than anything else. The truth was that he was dead tired. Thanks to his
tea debacle last night he hadn't gotten much sleep, and he'd been in
monotonous meetings all morning. It didn't help that he now had a banquet
to plan. He still needed to assign somebody to organize the food
preparation and decoration, not to mention the music. He collapsed into
his chair and picked up the datapad that was waiting for him. He stared at
its illuminated surface. On it were the names of the five lower generals
along with detailed information about each. One of them would be chosen to
become the new Prime General.
The advisor leaned back in his chair and cracked his stiff neck. In truth, it was the Tallest's job to do this research and decide who would be promoted. However, Roe knew that Red and Purple would just ask him who he thought would be best, and if he didn't know, they would ask him to do the work for them. He closed his tired eyes and sank lower in his chair. It was such a soft chair. Being the top advisor, he had pretty much the best of everything at his disposal. There were times when he considered taking a vacation and enjoying the privileged life his station permitted. It would be so nice, to just relax in some fancy resort and forget all life's cares. Forget that there were deadlines to meet and the Tallest to deal with. Forget about how important he was supposed to be and about how someone wanted to end his life.
He suddenly snapped to attention. He didn't have time for such nonsensical daydreaming. Although he was relatively young considering his high position, and retirement a long ways away, he figured he could wait until then to relax. Today he needed to work, so he straitened himself up and began on his task.
On another section of the ship someone else was also hard at work. Tah sat at her work station holding up the note found in Keer's nightstand. The handwriting on the paper was very neat – not at all what she would expect from an infuriated and jealous murderess. She pursed her lips with frustration. Although this was the only real clue she had, she was dissatisfied with it. The strangely neat handwriting and the fact it was hidden away in a drawer was very odd. Maybe this wasn't a note left by the murderer after all, but a note given to Keer by an angry lover that he just happened to have kept. Either way, the computer would soon give her a list of all on board who had similar handwriting to that found on the note. She quietly scanned the image and typed in a command. Moments later, a very short list of only one name appeared. Tah's jaw dropped.
########################################################################
Graf leaned back in her chair and rested her booted feet on top of her desk. She'd never allow any of her subordinates to see her this relaxed, but she figured she could spare a moment today. She was alone, and no one would be able to catch her slacking. Besides, things had been incredibly busy as of late, and the stress was beginning to pile up. No one would know it by her hard exterior, but even Graf grew weary of the constant and monotonous motions that characterized life on the Massive. Soon she'd have to round up some security for the banquet that was scheduled soon. Promotions were coming up, and she needed to review everyone's record. A string of burglaries was plaguing the nurses. There had been a theft of a valuable statuette in the gift shop, and the perpetrator needed to be caught. One of her most talented new recruits was investigating a politically charged murder. Along with all these regular considerations was the annoying fact that someone had attempted to poison Roe, and the fool wanted to take care of things personally.
"Sir!"
The Prime Agent started when she realized another person was in the room, which caused her too lean back too far in her chair and topple onto the floor. She immediately stood and straitened herself up. After that she turned her lavender eyes toward her visitor. "You didn't see that!" she growled.
"Of course not, Sir," agreed Tah in a subdued monotone. "I am simply here to request the authorization to do background checks on some high-ranking officials, Sir. For my investigation..."
"Yes, yes... I hadn't thought about that, soldier. You will need to look up some dirt, won't you?" Graf opened a drawer in her desk and looked about. After a short time she found what she was looking for and pulled out a purple-colored metal cylinder from the drawer. It had a plug on one end and a recording device on the other. "Turn around." Tah did so, revealing her Irken survival pack. Graf connected the cylinder to her pack and spoke into it. "This is Prime Agent Graf. I hereby give top-level investigatory authorization to Agent Tah, Third Class." Graf then disconnected the recording device and stuck it back into her drawer. "Well, that's taken care of... Now, if anyone gives you any trouble, and tries to pull rank on you, just let them hear that message and things ought to go just fine. Do you hear me soldier?"
Tah was still facing the opposite wall. She jumped when her superior barked at her. "Yes!" she yelped as she quickly turned around and snapped her heels at attention. "I mean, yes Sir!" The girl stiffly saluted.
"I will not have you daydreaming in my presence, soldier! From now on, I want you to get enough sleep at night, so you won't be doing it in my office! Is that clear, soldier?"
"Sir! Yes, Sir!"
Graf smiled at the rigidity of her underling. She didn't have to be this harsh, but she had to admit she got a kick out of watching this young Irken jump. She had such a completely serious look on her face. Graf absently wondered if the girl had any hobbies. She sat at her desk and examined the agent. "Tell me, Tah, how's the investigation going?"
"The first day went well: I examined the body to confirm the findings in my report and then examined the former General's bedroom per regulation. This morning I interviewed Clay, the marauder who discovered the body. Her story checked out, so I let her go." Tah listed out her activities as if she were giving a formal report. Graf wondered if the girl realized she was having an informal conversation.
"Very good," commented the Prime Agent as she steepled her long claws in thought. "What do you plan to do this afternoon?"
Tah cleared her throat. "Well, Sir. As you most likely know, the former Prime General had quite the reputation. I intend to see if he had any regular girlfriends who might have felt threatened or betrayed by his extracurricular activities." Graf silently chuckled when she saw the slightest hint of a blush shading her agent's face. Maybe Tah had emotions after all... "I also intend to do a background check on the generals – anyone who might get promoted because of Keer's untimely demise. Also I need information on our Tallest's advisor, Roe –"
"Roe?" Graf started at the name. "Whatever for? He doesn't stand to gain anything from the Prime General's death. Did you hear anything?" Graf did her best to control herself, but she could already feel her back and neck stiffening with anger. For Roe to take over the investigation of his own attempted murder was one thing, but for him to recruit HER people to help him was absolutely out of the question. If he needed help, he was instructed to go through her! The Prime Agent could feel her jaws clench. Roe certainly did not have the authority to use her resources, and this time she would call him on it.
Tah paled at her superior's surprise and apparent frustration. "I, er, I'd heard rumors that the Head Advisor didn't care for the Prime General, Ma'am, I mean Sir. I know it might sound ridiculous, Sir, but a man like Roe might want to get rid of an incompetent general and I just need to do a basic background check to make sure I cover all my bases, Sir. He's by no means a prime suspect but I'm just trying to make sure my investigation is thorough, Sir.
Graf visibly calmed. "Oh. Ah, I see. Well then, that's fine. I apologize, soldier. I didn't mean to question your performance; you're desire to be thorough is admirable. I'm working with a separate issue concerning Roe, and the mention of his name surprised me." She forcefully chuckled. "Must be overworking myself."
Tah formed her small mouth into a weak smile. "Y-yes, Sir. I've heard about the upcoming banquet, and I'm sure the Head Advisor was here to talk to you about it. You must have a lot of different things you're working on, Sir, and I'm sure they all get jumbled up from time to time."
Graf nodded and waived her subordinate away, somewhat embarrassed about the mix-up. "Carry on, agent. Carry on." She watched as Tah left and then heaved a great sigh. Maybe she really was stressed out.
On the other side of the door Tah was also heaving a great sigh, but this was a sigh of relief. For some reason unknown to herself, she didn't want to let the Prime Agent know that Roe was a suspect.
Instead of worrying she immediately set to her next task. She needed to find out about the Prime General's various women, and whether any had shown signs of mental or emotional instability. For a brief moment she thought about who to ask, but only one name came to mind. She opened the menu on her datapad and spoke an instruction, "Find Clay, Irken Marauder, First Class." The location of the marauder instantly popped up, and Tah hurried in that direction.
Clay was found in a training room, lifting weights. When Tah entered, she was mightily impressed – she had no idea a person that small could lift something so large. She cleared her throat, which caused the marauder to look in her direction. "Oh, please!" complained Clay as she rolled her eyes. She put down her weight and approached the agent. "Won't you people leave me alone?" She puffed out her small chest in a show of defiance.
"I'm terribly sorry, Clay, but I have a few questions to ask you. I assure you, these questions are not personal. Firstly, I was wondering if you could tell me ..." Tah hesitated and looked around. The room she was full of female marauders. The same females whose personal lives she'd be asking about. "Um, maybe we should go somewhere more private. Will you follow me to my office?"
From her expression it was obvious that Clay understood Tah's reason for secrecy, but this didn't mean she wasn't going to complain. She sighed dramatically. "I suppose I could stop in the middle of my work out and interrupt my entire day's schedule to answer your questions. After all, what's the opinion of a short, marauder first class to that of a tall, agent third class?" She said this last stinging remark with a cocky grin, and Tah didn't know whether the comment was meant as an insult or a joke.
Once they arrived at Tah's small office, the agent invited Clay to sit down. There was only one chair, and Tah's feet were terribly tired from walking all day, so she unconsciously sat on the floor. This startled even Clay. "What are you doing?" asked the marauder in a confused voice.
Tah glanced up from the datapad she'd been studying. "Pardon?"
"Is it regulation to sit on the floor like some kind of domesticated animal while you conduct an interview? Where were you raised – a space pub?"
"Wha? Oh! I'm very sorry!" Tah began to hurriedly stand when she was stopped by her companion's forceful voice.
"No! Stay! Screw convention and sit wherever the Irk you feel like! Besides, I'm not giving this chair up to you!"
Tah blinked. "I wasn't going to ask you to... Well, I think we should begin. I wanted to ask if you knew anything about who the former Prime General Keer ... dated around with. Was there anybody he saw in particular? A steady girlfriend, if you will?"
Clay closed her bright pink eyes in thought. "Hmm... Let me see. I don't think there was anyone he was real serious with. I mean, anyone could see he had several conquests. All the time." Clay snickered. "Sometimes at the same time. But, anyway, no, there wasn't any one particular girl. However, I can give you a list of three or four who saw him on a somewhat regular basis. He was a fairly powerful guy, after all, and that attracts some women." The marauder rolled her eyes. "They were always kinda jealous of eachother, but none of them seemed particularly homicidal."
Tah was surprised at Clay's cooperation. From her earlier experience with the marauder, she'd figured this interview would be an ordeal. Then again, she doubted Clay had any desire to protect any of these loose women. She made a note on her datapad. "Thank you very much. I assure you that you will remain anonymous. Now, if you could give me the names of these women, I would much appreciate it."
########################################################################
Somewhere in the bowels of the Massive, in a room filled with screens, sit about a dozen Irkens, directing transmission traffic in and out of the ship. Despite the monotony of the work, these Irkens hold themselves with pride and take their work very seriously. Few jobs on the ship are as important as theirs, for they are trusted with the task of making sure that every ship in the Armada can communicate with the Massive, that every Invader can contact their Tallest, and that any outgoing transmissions meet their proper destination. If a message is meant to go to the Tallest, the message is routed to their throne room. If a message is meant for a particular individual on the ship, the message is routed to wherever that person is on the ship. And as communications officers go, those on the Massive are held in higher esteem, for they are the most trusted communications officers in the entire Irken Empire, who handle the most important and delicate transmissions of them all – those sent and received by the Almighty Tallest.
Since working on the Massive is every communications officer's dream, only the most qualified are allowed the opportunity. These officers do not chat or goof off while doing their job, but sit quietly and constantly concentrate on the task at hand. A common feature among the communications officers on the Massive is their relatively tall height. Naturally this fact goes into consideration when such positions are staffed. Yet somehow, one extremely short Irken made his way to such a position. His name is Dak.
Dak was a fairly nondescript Irken, short with strait antennae and red eyes. His most noticeable characteristic, as a matter of fact, was his steady personality and good work ethic. He came to work on time every day and took short breaks. He was on the way to one of these short breaks when he smelled something ... odd. The stench was coming from the coffee room. Since he was heading there anyway, he decided to investigate. The door slid open, which caused the smell in the hall to intensify dramatically. It was something like, burnt coffee and Greluian sea slug. Dak hesitated for a moment, concerned about the probable mess that he was to find. He slowly stepped in, and screamed.
The advisor leaned back in his chair and cracked his stiff neck. In truth, it was the Tallest's job to do this research and decide who would be promoted. However, Roe knew that Red and Purple would just ask him who he thought would be best, and if he didn't know, they would ask him to do the work for them. He closed his tired eyes and sank lower in his chair. It was such a soft chair. Being the top advisor, he had pretty much the best of everything at his disposal. There were times when he considered taking a vacation and enjoying the privileged life his station permitted. It would be so nice, to just relax in some fancy resort and forget all life's cares. Forget that there were deadlines to meet and the Tallest to deal with. Forget about how important he was supposed to be and about how someone wanted to end his life.
He suddenly snapped to attention. He didn't have time for such nonsensical daydreaming. Although he was relatively young considering his high position, and retirement a long ways away, he figured he could wait until then to relax. Today he needed to work, so he straitened himself up and began on his task.
On another section of the ship someone else was also hard at work. Tah sat at her work station holding up the note found in Keer's nightstand. The handwriting on the paper was very neat – not at all what she would expect from an infuriated and jealous murderess. She pursed her lips with frustration. Although this was the only real clue she had, she was dissatisfied with it. The strangely neat handwriting and the fact it was hidden away in a drawer was very odd. Maybe this wasn't a note left by the murderer after all, but a note given to Keer by an angry lover that he just happened to have kept. Either way, the computer would soon give her a list of all on board who had similar handwriting to that found on the note. She quietly scanned the image and typed in a command. Moments later, a very short list of only one name appeared. Tah's jaw dropped.
########################################################################
Graf leaned back in her chair and rested her booted feet on top of her desk. She'd never allow any of her subordinates to see her this relaxed, but she figured she could spare a moment today. She was alone, and no one would be able to catch her slacking. Besides, things had been incredibly busy as of late, and the stress was beginning to pile up. No one would know it by her hard exterior, but even Graf grew weary of the constant and monotonous motions that characterized life on the Massive. Soon she'd have to round up some security for the banquet that was scheduled soon. Promotions were coming up, and she needed to review everyone's record. A string of burglaries was plaguing the nurses. There had been a theft of a valuable statuette in the gift shop, and the perpetrator needed to be caught. One of her most talented new recruits was investigating a politically charged murder. Along with all these regular considerations was the annoying fact that someone had attempted to poison Roe, and the fool wanted to take care of things personally.
"Sir!"
The Prime Agent started when she realized another person was in the room, which caused her too lean back too far in her chair and topple onto the floor. She immediately stood and straitened herself up. After that she turned her lavender eyes toward her visitor. "You didn't see that!" she growled.
"Of course not, Sir," agreed Tah in a subdued monotone. "I am simply here to request the authorization to do background checks on some high-ranking officials, Sir. For my investigation..."
"Yes, yes... I hadn't thought about that, soldier. You will need to look up some dirt, won't you?" Graf opened a drawer in her desk and looked about. After a short time she found what she was looking for and pulled out a purple-colored metal cylinder from the drawer. It had a plug on one end and a recording device on the other. "Turn around." Tah did so, revealing her Irken survival pack. Graf connected the cylinder to her pack and spoke into it. "This is Prime Agent Graf. I hereby give top-level investigatory authorization to Agent Tah, Third Class." Graf then disconnected the recording device and stuck it back into her drawer. "Well, that's taken care of... Now, if anyone gives you any trouble, and tries to pull rank on you, just let them hear that message and things ought to go just fine. Do you hear me soldier?"
Tah was still facing the opposite wall. She jumped when her superior barked at her. "Yes!" she yelped as she quickly turned around and snapped her heels at attention. "I mean, yes Sir!" The girl stiffly saluted.
"I will not have you daydreaming in my presence, soldier! From now on, I want you to get enough sleep at night, so you won't be doing it in my office! Is that clear, soldier?"
"Sir! Yes, Sir!"
Graf smiled at the rigidity of her underling. She didn't have to be this harsh, but she had to admit she got a kick out of watching this young Irken jump. She had such a completely serious look on her face. Graf absently wondered if the girl had any hobbies. She sat at her desk and examined the agent. "Tell me, Tah, how's the investigation going?"
"The first day went well: I examined the body to confirm the findings in my report and then examined the former General's bedroom per regulation. This morning I interviewed Clay, the marauder who discovered the body. Her story checked out, so I let her go." Tah listed out her activities as if she were giving a formal report. Graf wondered if the girl realized she was having an informal conversation.
"Very good," commented the Prime Agent as she steepled her long claws in thought. "What do you plan to do this afternoon?"
Tah cleared her throat. "Well, Sir. As you most likely know, the former Prime General had quite the reputation. I intend to see if he had any regular girlfriends who might have felt threatened or betrayed by his extracurricular activities." Graf silently chuckled when she saw the slightest hint of a blush shading her agent's face. Maybe Tah had emotions after all... "I also intend to do a background check on the generals – anyone who might get promoted because of Keer's untimely demise. Also I need information on our Tallest's advisor, Roe –"
"Roe?" Graf started at the name. "Whatever for? He doesn't stand to gain anything from the Prime General's death. Did you hear anything?" Graf did her best to control herself, but she could already feel her back and neck stiffening with anger. For Roe to take over the investigation of his own attempted murder was one thing, but for him to recruit HER people to help him was absolutely out of the question. If he needed help, he was instructed to go through her! The Prime Agent could feel her jaws clench. Roe certainly did not have the authority to use her resources, and this time she would call him on it.
Tah paled at her superior's surprise and apparent frustration. "I, er, I'd heard rumors that the Head Advisor didn't care for the Prime General, Ma'am, I mean Sir. I know it might sound ridiculous, Sir, but a man like Roe might want to get rid of an incompetent general and I just need to do a basic background check to make sure I cover all my bases, Sir. He's by no means a prime suspect but I'm just trying to make sure my investigation is thorough, Sir.
Graf visibly calmed. "Oh. Ah, I see. Well then, that's fine. I apologize, soldier. I didn't mean to question your performance; you're desire to be thorough is admirable. I'm working with a separate issue concerning Roe, and the mention of his name surprised me." She forcefully chuckled. "Must be overworking myself."
Tah formed her small mouth into a weak smile. "Y-yes, Sir. I've heard about the upcoming banquet, and I'm sure the Head Advisor was here to talk to you about it. You must have a lot of different things you're working on, Sir, and I'm sure they all get jumbled up from time to time."
Graf nodded and waived her subordinate away, somewhat embarrassed about the mix-up. "Carry on, agent. Carry on." She watched as Tah left and then heaved a great sigh. Maybe she really was stressed out.
On the other side of the door Tah was also heaving a great sigh, but this was a sigh of relief. For some reason unknown to herself, she didn't want to let the Prime Agent know that Roe was a suspect.
Instead of worrying she immediately set to her next task. She needed to find out about the Prime General's various women, and whether any had shown signs of mental or emotional instability. For a brief moment she thought about who to ask, but only one name came to mind. She opened the menu on her datapad and spoke an instruction, "Find Clay, Irken Marauder, First Class." The location of the marauder instantly popped up, and Tah hurried in that direction.
Clay was found in a training room, lifting weights. When Tah entered, she was mightily impressed – she had no idea a person that small could lift something so large. She cleared her throat, which caused the marauder to look in her direction. "Oh, please!" complained Clay as she rolled her eyes. She put down her weight and approached the agent. "Won't you people leave me alone?" She puffed out her small chest in a show of defiance.
"I'm terribly sorry, Clay, but I have a few questions to ask you. I assure you, these questions are not personal. Firstly, I was wondering if you could tell me ..." Tah hesitated and looked around. The room she was full of female marauders. The same females whose personal lives she'd be asking about. "Um, maybe we should go somewhere more private. Will you follow me to my office?"
From her expression it was obvious that Clay understood Tah's reason for secrecy, but this didn't mean she wasn't going to complain. She sighed dramatically. "I suppose I could stop in the middle of my work out and interrupt my entire day's schedule to answer your questions. After all, what's the opinion of a short, marauder first class to that of a tall, agent third class?" She said this last stinging remark with a cocky grin, and Tah didn't know whether the comment was meant as an insult or a joke.
Once they arrived at Tah's small office, the agent invited Clay to sit down. There was only one chair, and Tah's feet were terribly tired from walking all day, so she unconsciously sat on the floor. This startled even Clay. "What are you doing?" asked the marauder in a confused voice.
Tah glanced up from the datapad she'd been studying. "Pardon?"
"Is it regulation to sit on the floor like some kind of domesticated animal while you conduct an interview? Where were you raised – a space pub?"
"Wha? Oh! I'm very sorry!" Tah began to hurriedly stand when she was stopped by her companion's forceful voice.
"No! Stay! Screw convention and sit wherever the Irk you feel like! Besides, I'm not giving this chair up to you!"
Tah blinked. "I wasn't going to ask you to... Well, I think we should begin. I wanted to ask if you knew anything about who the former Prime General Keer ... dated around with. Was there anybody he saw in particular? A steady girlfriend, if you will?"
Clay closed her bright pink eyes in thought. "Hmm... Let me see. I don't think there was anyone he was real serious with. I mean, anyone could see he had several conquests. All the time." Clay snickered. "Sometimes at the same time. But, anyway, no, there wasn't any one particular girl. However, I can give you a list of three or four who saw him on a somewhat regular basis. He was a fairly powerful guy, after all, and that attracts some women." The marauder rolled her eyes. "They were always kinda jealous of eachother, but none of them seemed particularly homicidal."
Tah was surprised at Clay's cooperation. From her earlier experience with the marauder, she'd figured this interview would be an ordeal. Then again, she doubted Clay had any desire to protect any of these loose women. She made a note on her datapad. "Thank you very much. I assure you that you will remain anonymous. Now, if you could give me the names of these women, I would much appreciate it."
########################################################################
Somewhere in the bowels of the Massive, in a room filled with screens, sit about a dozen Irkens, directing transmission traffic in and out of the ship. Despite the monotony of the work, these Irkens hold themselves with pride and take their work very seriously. Few jobs on the ship are as important as theirs, for they are trusted with the task of making sure that every ship in the Armada can communicate with the Massive, that every Invader can contact their Tallest, and that any outgoing transmissions meet their proper destination. If a message is meant to go to the Tallest, the message is routed to their throne room. If a message is meant for a particular individual on the ship, the message is routed to wherever that person is on the ship. And as communications officers go, those on the Massive are held in higher esteem, for they are the most trusted communications officers in the entire Irken Empire, who handle the most important and delicate transmissions of them all – those sent and received by the Almighty Tallest.
Since working on the Massive is every communications officer's dream, only the most qualified are allowed the opportunity. These officers do not chat or goof off while doing their job, but sit quietly and constantly concentrate on the task at hand. A common feature among the communications officers on the Massive is their relatively tall height. Naturally this fact goes into consideration when such positions are staffed. Yet somehow, one extremely short Irken made his way to such a position. His name is Dak.
Dak was a fairly nondescript Irken, short with strait antennae and red eyes. His most noticeable characteristic, as a matter of fact, was his steady personality and good work ethic. He came to work on time every day and took short breaks. He was on the way to one of these short breaks when he smelled something ... odd. The stench was coming from the coffee room. Since he was heading there anyway, he decided to investigate. The door slid open, which caused the smell in the hall to intensify dramatically. It was something like, burnt coffee and Greluian sea slug. Dak hesitated for a moment, concerned about the probable mess that he was to find. He slowly stepped in, and screamed.