It's Never Too Late
By: Moojuice Nne of the Mayonnaise!
I'm sorry the posts have slowed down! It's all my viola's fault! (smashes viola) I just finished up a second week of orchestra camp. Hey, I have an orchestra joke for you!
Ahem…a violist and a violinist get into a fight in the middle of a rehearsal. After a few good hits have been exchanged, a bassoonist gets up and separates them. The conductor asks the violist what could have possibly possessed them to get up and go at each other like that. The violist replies, "The violinist turned a peg on my instrument and won't tell me which one!" XD XD If you didn't get it, don't worry about it. If you need an explanation, tell me. Musicians, you should know!
Thanks to the seventeenth reviewer, Flying Metal Child! Although I do have a question…if everyone dies, what would be the point of the fanfiction? But yes, I have something very special planned for the bad guys. And to Sheepchi, Jac,and Ashsema, thanks for your reviews! Whoo-hoo! Twenty reviews! I'm so happy.
Yay, yay, yay, yay
The reviewer is always right!
Yay, yay, yay, yay
And they've reviewed my story twenty times!
Let's go to chapter eight!
Chapter Eight: The Action Explodes, and the Massive Is Doomed!
"Assume battle positions!"
Tallest Red was standing on the main deck of the Massive's Control Room, a worried look on his face. "Inform the Fourth Armored Division to fall into the main attack maneuver, as well."
"Excuse, me, my Tallest," the co-pilot turned around in his chair and looked up at Red. "What are we being attacked by?"
"The Elite Force Division."
"The Elite Forces?" The co-pilot looked skeptical. "My Tallest, they can't be in deep space. They're supposed to be on Irk. It must be a mistake."
"I'm telling you, it's them!" Red's grip tightened on the railing. "The Massive and her fleet is under attack by the EF Division by the orders of the heads of the Advisory staff."
The co-pilot shook his head in disbelief. "It must be a mistake," he repeated.
"It isn't. Advisor Mim and Head Advisor Ren have organized a plan to either destroy the empire or take over it. My suspicion is that they planned to weaken me by murdering Purple."
"But Tallest Purple died of a natural disease!"
"We can't be sure of that," Red said quietly. "They've already blown up the hangar and probably taken over the Capital by now. Who knows what else they'll do to us…"
"Sir! We've got a radar reading. Fourteen voots coming from behind us at full speed."
Red took a deep breath. Here we go. "Take her around slowly. Inform the Fourth Armored Division to do the same."
The Massive rolled to the left, engines roaring. The smaller flagships and voots spun around and waited patiently for the giant ship to finish it's rotation. The Armada was now facing the small Elite Force Division. Red leaned over the railing and squinted out the window. "How many voots did you say were on radar?"
"Fourteen, sir."
"You're wrong."
The radar specialist looked over his shoulder at the Tallest. "Beg pardon?"
"I said, you're wrong. They aren't trained to come by sections. The Elite Forces are a total of forty voots and sixteen bombers. They wouldn't send out sections unless…."
Red's eyes grew wide. "Raise the shield barrier now!" he cried.
As if on cue, the Massive was shook by a huge energy blast from a veiled vootcruiser. The Control Room exploded in a flash of light. Several consoles shattered, sending metal flying throughout the room. The whole ship lurched violently to the side in a shower of sparks. The Irkens who were strapped to their seats in front of the control panels flew halfway out of their chairs and were yanked roughly back by the X-shaped safety belts with a collective 'ugh!'
Tallest Red was thrown backwards from the platform he was standing on. As his body arced through the air, something collided with him and spun him to the side. Red slammed into the metal wall next to the door with a metallic crunch. The hover belt around his waist snapped and exploded in a cloud of smoke. The Tallest slid at an angle down the wall and fell to the floor, unconscious, an uneven chunk of metal lodged near his stomach. The pilots who saw the event immediately cried, "Our Tallest is down!" and attempted to revive him, but Red wasn't responding.
He was standing on a gray metal platform, but he couldn't see anything; the whole place was shrouded in thick, swirling fog. The sound of faint buzzing filled the air; it was hard to breathe. He took a tentative step forwards and cringed with pain. A burning sensation was making its way through his body. He looked down, and saw a gaping wound in his midsection. Blood was flowing freely from the hole. Putting his hand over the wound to stop the bleeding, he asked himself, "Where am I?"
The buzzing sound grew louder and then stopped suddenly. The fog swirled closer, and Red saw a distant figure approaching him. Its gait was leisurely and smooth, much like a Tallest's walk. Red took a few steps back, but the silhouette kept coming. Red's fingers tightened on his wound. The figure was a few steps from him when it stopped. The dark gray mist still veiled its identity. It hovered a few inches above Red's head, but bent down slightly and raised its antennae in a salute before it disappeared.
Almost immediately, Red felt an arm drape over his shoulders, and sensed that a familiar presence was looking intently at him. He turned his head to the side, and his eyes widened. Standing next to him, looking at the chunk of metal in Red's stomach, was Almighty Tallest Purple. His large violet eyes stared into Red's face when Red noticed him, and his lips turned up in a smile.
Red's voice got stuck in his throat, and he had to swallow several times before he could say anything. "Who…who are you?" He didn't believe that Purple was standing next to him.
Purple took his arm away from Red's shoulder and looked to the side. The fog was clearing, and Red could make out the forms of thousands of Irkens standing in front of them. Purple raised his hand to wave. "Do you not remember?"
Purple's voice. Purple's high pitched, sometimes annoying accent. Red's mind reeled. "You can't be Purple. You can't. It's not possible."
Purple kept waving at the dim figures that were congregated in front of him. "I do not know what you are talking about. Why is it not possible?"
"Purple…" Red began, his voice choked. "Purple, you…you can't be here…because you're dead."
All of a sudden, Purple's form stood still; his arm dropped and hung limply at his side. His velvety antennae lowered to press against his skull, a sign of confusion. He turned his head, and Red could see the light of life disappear from Purple's eyes. "I…I am…dead," he said slowly, as if to test each syllable, "but not forgotten, then?"
"What?"
Purple's body fell forwards into the mist, disappearing from Red's view. His voice grew softer. "Has the Armada flocked entirely over to you? I was barely implying that you should start telling the Armada to be prepared."
Red remembered this conversation very well. It was the last real conversation they had before Purple became a vegetable. They had both gotten fed up with the disease, and Red remembered that he began wishing that it would end as quickly as possible. "Purple, come back. I'm sorry I said those things to you. I was scared, Purple. And now…"
Purple's form appeared out of the mist once again.
"And now I think the Empire's falling into the hands of the enemy. All of our most trusted friends are being killed. I don't think I can handle this on my own."
Purple's form approached Red cautiously. The mauve-eyed Tallest laid his fingers gently on Red's side, pressing against the wound. Red stared at his partner and grinned painfully. "That hurts, Purple. I hope you've noticed that I have a huge hole where my stomach should be."
Purple gave Red a skeptical look. Then, his body grew thinner, and more transparent. "I was supposed to outlast you for a hundred years. I had to go. Nothing is going to help. It doesn't need to be easier. Will you make it on your own?"
Red recognized these broken sentences as the ones that Purple spoke on his dying day. He remembered everything now. Now that he was with his old partner in leadership, he could remember all of the terrible memories that he had bottled up inside.
Tears were falling from Purple's eyes. "Where are you, Red? You said you'll always be there." Purple's antennae were quivering. The mist around them swirled faster around them, immersing them in a gray tornado of confusion. Then, Purple's body completely disappeared, except for his dull violet eyes. Red could still feel the pressure of his hand on his side. "To you comes the power we divided. I'll be backing you up for all time."
With these words, Tallest Purple dug his fingers into Red's stomach and yanked the shrapnel out. Red screamed, and then he was on the floor of the Massive's Control Room, a group of pilots standing over them. One of them was holding a shard of bloody metal. Another one was wrapping the wound with gauze.
The pilots cheered when they saw Red's eyes open. Red groaned and pushed himself off of the floor. "What happened?" he asked groggily.
"The Massive was hit with a veiled vootcruiser's missile. Fortunately, the Massive's shields were activated in time to absorb most of the damage. There are about twenty veiled voots surrounding us. They haven't started their second attack."
Red got up off of the ground and winced. "Right. Let's give them a demonstration of what this Massive can do!"
"Sir, you're injured. We must get you to the Medical Quarters!"
"No!" Red snapped, unhooking his destroyed hover belt and dropping it on the floor. "I stay with my team. Pilots, get back in your seats. Tell the Fourth Armored Division to fall into defense position. Attempt to make contact with the Elite Forces." He undid the circular metal armor that wrapped around his legs and let it drop to the floor; it was useless to walk in unless the hover belt was operational. Once it was off, Red straightened out his dark maroon flight pants and jumped up to the platform. Man, does that feel good, he thought, stretching his legs. I can't stand floating around.
"The transmissions have been sent. The Fourth Armored Division is moving into defense position now. The Elite Forces are not responding."
"Try them again. Tell them I want to speak with the leader."
"They are attacking again, sir!"
Red braced himself. The missile hit the Massive's shield and exploded with rattling force. The shield absorbed most of the force, but Red was still thrown against the railing behind him. "I really need to hold on tighter," he growled, rubbing the place on his back where he landed on the railing. "Okay, lower the shields!"
The protective barrier dissipated. The pilots cringed as they saw the Elite Force vootcruisers power up their lasers. Red grinned viciously. "Power up the frontal heat seeker missile!" he ordered, pointing to a large bomber in front of the Massive. "I want to blow that thing out of the sky."
A huge missile turret unfolded from the Massive's underbelly and turned towards the hovering flagship. Immediately the vootcruisers fired their lasers upon the Massive. The missile was launched, and as it rocketed past the lasers, it pulled them back away from the Massive and along its path to the bomber.
"We got 'em!" Red cried, punching the air. The missile smashed into the bomber with a burst of blinding light. The resulting shock wave threw the Massive backwards. The Fourth Armored Division scattered to avoid being hit, breaking their defensive positions. This was just the opening that the Elite Forces were looking for.
"All right!" Commander Era said, inside of his veiled voot that hovered just above the Massive. "Get in there and rip 'em to shreds!"
A squadron of voots blazed in, seemingly out of nowhere, and swarmed around the Massive. The Fourth Armored Division, seeing the action as an attack, began firing upon the intruders. The Elite Forces met the attack with their own artillery, which was many times stronger, and blasted most of the Fourth to pieces. The Massive's engines kicked to life and spun the ship around, her lasers blazing. The Elite Forces' flagships surrounded the Massive, missile turrets cocked at the main window, ready to fire. Red could only watch as the Fourth Armored Division feebly attempted to fend off the more experienced pilots of the Elite Forces.
"My Tallest! The Fourth Armored Division has been reduced to only a few voots and a flagship. We have no other outside defenses."
Red stared out the window, glaring fiercely at the Flagships surrounding them. "Radio the remaining members of the Fourth Armored Division. Tell them to get the hell out of here and back to Irk."
"We will not run!"
Red turned to look. The face of a battered Irken was on the hologram screen. He was the commander of the Fourth Armored Division. "We will not leave the Massive."
"I am your Tallest, and you will do as I say," Red snarled back. He was in no mood to argue. "You will leave, or I'll have to shoot you down myself for disobeying orders."
"Then so be it. It will be a more honorable death than being shot down by traitorous fiends."
A EF voot shot at the Commander's ship, but he dodged it and drifted closer to the Massive. The flagship's missile turrets riveted towards the lonely vootcruiser.
"Get out of here!" Red yelled. "Get your men and yourself out of here! Get back to Irk! You have to protect it!"
The Commander's face lost its resolute look. "We need to protect Irk?"
"You better! We can't trust the Elite Forces any more, can we? I'll create a distraction—you get going!"
Red jumped over the railing and shoved the main pilot over and pushed the two bars that controlled the Massive's engine's forward, causing the Massive to barrel forwards; at the last minute, it veered away from the Commander's vootcruiser and above the Flagships. "Open fire!" Red cried.
"But sir! There are veiled voots all around us!"
"Just do it!"
Red gritted his teeth as he steered the Massive downwards, back towards the clump of flagships. If this didn't work, then the entire Armada—and the Empire—would fall to its knees.
Meanwhile…
Peprik locked the door to her office and pushed a heavy filing cabinet in front of it. She had already put makeshift bandages on her arm and thigh, but the loss of blood made it hard for her to move quickly. Her breath came ragged and quick as she stumbled into Red's office and into his chair. She had to find some sort of communication device that would allow her to get in touch with the Massive.
As she began filing through the desk drawers, a picture on Red's desk caught her eye. It was a photograph of the Irken Convention. However, its placement in the frame was crooked, and Peprik could see the corner of another picture poking out from behind it. She cautiously picked up the frame and opened the back. As soon as she lifted the black backdrop away from the frame, a loose photograph fell out onto the desk. Peprik's eyebrows furrowed with worry as she flipped the picture over. It was a festive picture of Red and Purple on their Inauguration Day. They were garbed in each other's color, as was the custom: Purple was wearing a long, flowing crimson cape with a dark red flight suit, and Red was robed in a dark plum colored deep space uniform and a short mauve cloak. Red's antennae were laid flat against his head, and his expression told everyone that he loathed the color. Purple had a smug look on his face; in his hand he held a box of curly fries. One could tell just by looking at the picture that Red and Purple still couldn't stand to be around each other. Around the two leaders, the Advisory Board stood with hooded heads bowed—all except Ren, of course. He stood in front of the two Tallests, his dark silver eyes flashing.
"So that's why he hid this picture," Peprik muttered softly, running her thumb over the smooth surface. "He doesn't like to remember."
Suddenly, there were three harsh knocks at the door. "Peprik, are you in here?"
Mim's voice.
"Pep, come out. We need to talk."
Peprik stood frozen behind Red's desk. The door to his office opened, and the Advisor walked in, followed by a silver-eyed Irken. Ren.
Mim held up a test tube. Inside, a white substance writhed and twitched, reaching against the smooth walls of its prison. Peprik felt the blood drain from her head as she realized what it was. Mim shook the tube between her forefinger and thumb. "Remember what this does?"
"It can't kill me?"
"I know. But once you're out, I'm going to kill you."
Mim smiled sweetly, her green eyes gleaming with happiness. "And when the Massive gets back, I'm going to let Red witness the second murder of his partner."
"Second murder?"
Before Peprik could react, Mim opened the cork of the test tube and tossed it towards Peprik and retreated out of the room with Ren. From behind the door, Mim called out, "It's absorbed through the pores of your antennae, honey. You can also breathe it in."
Peprik watched, horrified, as the white substance turned to a fine powder with the arrival of oxygen and disappeared from view. It was in the air, all around her.
She set her teeth and backed away from the test tube, slowly. That's when her antennae jerked upright, quivering alertly. She pushed them nervously down with one hand.
"I am not afraid of you," she said to the test tube. "Even though I might seem frightened, I've never felt stronger."
She reached down to grab the test tube.
"Because my Tallests need me."
She grasped the test tube. "Both of them need me."
Peprik has the virus! Now what can she do? Will the Elite Forces triumph over the Massive? Will Purple ever wake up? Will the Fourth Armored Division get back to Irk in time? And Ren begins to establish his new empire, all in Chapter Nine!