This... took a while. And is very long. And I apologize for the delay. HOPEFULLY the other chapters won't take this long. But then hopefully the other chapters won't be over 10 pages in lenght, either...
I will say this, though, I like how this came out
Complex
5.Even Footing
Virgo
1. An entity made up of three or more interrelated components.
2. A group of individual structures known or believed to be anatomically, embryologically, or physiologically related.
3. A group of related, often repressed memories, thoughts, and impulses that compel characteristic or habitual patterns of feelings, thought, and behavior.
After having decided to work together, Red and Purple were amazed at how quickly their plan came to fruition- cutting down more than half the time they had estimated working on their own.
The first step took a little longer than expected. For whatever religious reason the Monmen took to forsaking meat, they took it very seriously. Only when 5 of the city had died of starvation and the rest quickly following did many break down and feed upon the flesh of other creatures. Once that happened, Purple let loose a pheromone into the atmosphere that drove the foreign insects into a frenzy, working themselves to death. Red had developed a type of hybrid plant and had sown those into the fertile soil of the planet.
Endless months of engineering brought about this beauty the two of them were so proud of they didn't mind sharing credit for it. It had a hormone in it that gave the Monmen an undeniable urge to gorge themselves on meat. So while few openly feasted on meat, others coveted the action like the utter sin they believed it was.
As they predicted, in-fighting began to break out. Arguments and scuffles created rifts and rifts became a civil war. Cackling over their predictable adversaries and the flawlessness of their own plan, Red and Purple moved their base of operations to space.
Within three years of landing on the planet they sent off a message to the fleet at the height of the war and waited for the armada to arrive.
It was time to invade.
A year later and they were still fighting, Red scowled to himself as he ordered the ship on a strafing run. The Monmen were surprisingly resilient despite the suddenness of the Irken attack. Deciding the Irkens were a bigger threat, the Monmen were actually capable of setting aside their dietary prejudice and fought back. Despite their lack of technology, they grew quickly aware of the Irkens' lack of experience in heavily wooded areas and their natural aversion to water. Asides from that, the larger Irken battle ships and battle suits couldn't be utilized in the thick forests.
As it was, they were currently in a stalemate. Red, having been given command of a small fleet for the invasion, offered to lead his platoon on an attack on the densest line of defense.
His ships were altered Mirri Skimmers. They were small, low flying, two-man skiffs used specifically for tight maneuvering. Generally lightly armed and armored, Irken engineers modified them with an extra two-inches of reinforced titanium plating, a wide-barrel electron blaster cannon (EBC, especially useful under wet conditions) and a .50 caliber automatic gattling gun with anti-armor ammunition (which could cut through a dozen trees easy). With the added .50 cal turret, the two-man ship turned into three- pilot, turret gunner and navigator.
The pilot (a quick little thing called Conus who Red had decided to have fly all his major missions) called out a visual confirmation of enemy fighters from above. The sharp tattoo from the turret confirmed that the gunner had seen them as well. Red smirked to himself. He hand picked the two himself and was glad to see them not disappoint.
"Sir!" The gunner reported through the intercom. "Enemy targets neutralized!"
Grunting in response, Red tapped into a precision targeting satellite that hovered in low orbit. Though the immense foliage obstructed its targeting systems it was still useful in gathering information on enemy movement. "Expect heavy resistance coming up." He told them. "Almost a company strong a click ahead."
Conus tightened her grip over the controls. "What's the plan of attack, sir?"
To this, Red grinned vilely, fingers itching over the EBC consul. "Barrel straight through them. Anyone dumb enough not to get out of our way deserves what they get."
Any lesser species would flinch at the thought of a suicide mission. But for Irkens it was the height of living.
Purple was rather enjoying himself. To a point. Though senseless violence and killing brightened any day, there was something he found… odd. A feeling brought about by the fact that the Monmen- despite being one of the less technologically advanced species the Irkens have ever encountered –were still in fighting condition. Invasions didn't take a year. They took two months- six at most. But, just when they thought they'd have this planet under control (plans were already up to level the planet and bids among the few Irken allies for the trees were reaching satisfactory amounts) the Monmen were suddenly fighting back.
And not just fighting back but holding them to a standstill.
They had very few projectile weaponry. No guns or cannons, but catapults and slings and a fair array of handheld weapons. Some of the higher ranking Irkens grew concerned when studies of damaged vehicles suggested the weapons were high-frequency pulsators, where a weapon would vibrate so finely it became super-heated and broke down the molecules of the armor it came in contact with. It, in short, was able to slice through practically any light to medium armored vehicle the Irkens were limited to on this planet. And in all his time studying the creatures Purple knew there was no way they could've been able to come up with that technology let alone be able to mass-produce it so quickly.
But they were such an isolated species that no other race had made commercial relations with them. The only way this could have happened, Purple figured, was if another race opposing to the Irken conquest had realized what was going on and was supplying them. But even so how could they get through the massive security network that blanketed the entire system?
Upon gaining permission, Purple sent his platoon of soldiers to infiltrate behind enemy lines. They blended nicely into the trees through natural coloring and- though the average Monmen could climb slightly faster then them –their lighter, smaller bodies made them more agile through the treetops. For most of the morning they traveled deep into Monmen territory in groups of four. The tine spines on the spider legs gave them the ability to move among branches too light to carry the Monmen and only on very few occasions were any of them spotted. And those that had seen them were quickly disposed of.
In all honesty, none of them knew what they were looking for. Just clues or stock houses or, if they were really luck, some sort of drop point. And if you wanted to keep depending on something as inconsistent as luck, a name and forwarding address would do just as well.
They covered eight miles across, each soldier with optical enhancements that could not only zoom in 200x but could also read the signals given off by an infrared coder. By the 8th hour of traveling they came across the first large establishment from the front line. Purple, with the group in the middle of the line, had signals sent to both ends.
With noiseless precision all sixteen squads surrounded the complex and prepared for a security breach. Purple led the way with determination and an armed detonator.
This planet was supposed to be relatively untouched. It was supposed to be pristine and natural and isolated from the rest of the space faring species. It was, after all, out of the way. And asides from the vast forests (timber being a commodity only few advanced races were in need of) it had nothing the traders felt was worth the detour.
"So then why the hell," Red cursed to himself, "do they have SHIELDS?"
After plowing through the line, Red's ship swung about, firing all the weapons upon the Monmen's rear. But when he targeted the EBC on a large number on Monmen the weapon just fizzled over them in an orange, shimmering ball.
Energy shields, he recognized. They dispersed the electrons and rendered the wearers fairly invulnerable to the cannon. A fully charged hit, though, would over clock the personal generator and render it useless but to get a powerful enough charge would take too much time. As Conus swung the skimmer around to fishtail into a row of Monmen, Red pounded on the communication panel.
"All skimmers! Converge on this point and attack!"
The comm crackled into life. "Roger that, Wing Leader, we're on our way!"
A series of high pitched whining rumbled through the forest and those that turned to look at the sound were cut down by Red's gunner. Coming in at near super sonic speeds was the rest of Red's fleet- fifteen skimmers in all, crashing through the underbrush and tossing the mammals into the air at break neck speeds.
With so many ships and guns keeping the Monmen occupied, it gave them enough time to power up the EBCs and soon what was left of the line scattered into the woods. Red ordered them off the chase and instead radioed in for permission to find and destroy the nearby barracks and armament depot. Almost immediately he was given the go ahead.
They weren't even in visual contact with either buildings before a counter force struck.
"Hey!" Someone said over the comm. "There's something-" From somewhere to Red's far right something exploded.
"What happened?" Red barked out.
"We lost Wing 12! It just careened into a tree!"
His antenna twitched in displeasure. "Watch where you're going! You weren't picked because you were idiots!"
"No- wait!" Another Irken said. "There's something here, I can see it above the- WAAAAAAAAH!"
The radar bleeped in a panic. Red belted out, "ALL STOP!"
Crashing from the trees came a skimmer, nicking the nose of another and crashing a third into a burning wreck. As the ships slammed through the trees, a hard-edged creature jumped from the first skimmer's stabilizer and high into the treetops. It landed with a thud on another ship two skimmers over from Red, tearing a jagged rip from engine to fuselage and bashing at the cockpit. Reacting on instinct and panic the other gunners fired at it, setting sparks in the leaking fluid and the entire ship flipped forward from the explosion.
Red gapped as the metal… THING clamped onto a tree and scuttled up it like a giant spider.
That… That was a….
"VORTIAN WEAPONS?" Snarling Purple hurled the weapon, not even being satisfied that it cracked in five placed against the wall. "What the hell are Vortian weapons doing on this miserable planet?"
"Sir," Purple's second in command stood just behind him, "we've finished going through the rest of the cargo. All of them are Vortian made items."
"Those prune-faced, goat-brained midgets!" The other Irkens winced (for the Irkens there was no insult worse than being called 'small'). "Blatantly breaking their alliance with us by supplying our enemies with weapons specifically designed to sabatoge our efforts!" He ranted, kicking over another box of cargo. It tipped open and grenades spilled out. The other Irkens flailed for a moment before they realized they weren't armed.
Rubbing his hands irritably over his face, Purple took several deep breaths and brought himself some semblance of calm. "Okay," he gritted out. "This is what we're going to do. Get all the information you can on the weapons. Serial numbers, archetype, quantity, when they were dropped if you can. We'll upload the information to command once we're back in friendly territory. Once that's done, everyone take up whatever's useful to us without bogging you down. Anything we can't take, leave here. Once we let command know what's going on- if they don't give us any other orders -we're going to blow this place."
His troops dipped their antennae in response. "Yessir!"
That was a Vortian Gorge Walker! The planet Vort was mainly mountains and canyons- the Gorge Walkers allowed them to crawl up the craggy sides and make leaps up to a mile in length. They were more like bodysuits than actual vehicles that enhanced the Vortians' natural jumping ability. The Monmen had similar builds, particularly with the double-jointed legs. Because they were so much larger than Vortians when fully grown, the Gorge Walkers were apparently manned by adolescents- their amazing strength and speed more than doubled in the suit.
"Sir!" A voice cried over the comm. "What're our orders?"
"Can anyone track it on their radars?"
"Negative. The satellite can't get a lock, either."
Red growled, his hand twitching in anger. "Everyone, hold your position and stay alert! There's no telling where it'll la-"
There was a shout and the sound of weapons discharging, followed by an explosion that sent three other skimmers careening into trees.
"Cease fire, dammit, cease fire!" Red bellowed at his fleet.
"Sir, Wing 8 is destroyed-"
"Wing 4's engines to half power-"
"No response from Wings 3 and 10-"
"Wing 11's taken shrapnel-"
"ALL WINGS!" He snapped. "Tow in all crippled ships and fall back to the assault line!"
There was a brief silence of surprise. "But sir!"
"Don't question my orders! Make sure nothing is left behind and go!" Twisting off the comm line, Red turned to his gunner and driver. "We're going to stay behind and deal with this thing. If either of you want to leave, there's still a clear shot to command. You'll be fine if you stick to high ground."
The other two looked at each other briefly. Conus eventually said, "Do you plan to die here, sir?"
He grimaced. "Most definitely not."
"Then I think the safest place is with you." The gunner grinned in agreement. Red couldn't help the fond twitch of his lips.
"If that's your decision, so be it." He flicked the scanners to heat-seek and commanded the skimmer to be taken to hover mode. The interior roared as the propellers beneath the ship whipped into action, several dozen small blades cushioning air under them in a frictionless balloon. "Use only minimal thrust. Don't move until you see the Walker bearing down on us. And don't fire unless given the command."
"Yessir." They responded, sitting in tense silence as they waited.
With the other ships gone it limited the Monman's target to one and, though they were ready for it, the vast amount of trees and various angles of attack gave their enemy the element of surprise.
The only things on our side, Red thought to himself, was the fact that the Monmen wouldn't have nearly enough time to completely master the suit. That and it was merely a climber armed only with grappling hooks and not a military style Walker. Those wouldn't be able to maneuver too well in the tight quarters of the upper branches and were probably too heavy to be supported-
Red wanted to smack himself in the face, gnashing his teeth at being so slow. "Gunner," he said suddenly, startling his shipmates, "I'm going to give you targets. Shoot at them for one cycle when I tell you."
The gunner agreed before he fully grasped what Red was saying. The first series of bullets tore through the bark of a thick tree 38 meters above them. A half minute later he shot up another tree several yards lower and to their right. For several minutes they did this until the gunner braved- his voice hesitant and apologetic –the question, "Sir? Am I just shooting randomly?"
Red just grinned back. "That's what it'll think."
Relieved that his superior had a plan, the gunner vigorously continued chipping bark from the trees. Red knew that they had gotten close to the Monman on more than a few occasions but had ignored chasing after rustling leaves in favor of his plan. Suddenly the forest was filled with a thunderous crackling and the trunk of one of the treetops splintered. They saw a flicker of movement crossing the leaf-speckled skyline before another tree began to list heavily. Another grappling line shot out and the Walker latched on to a tree, the impact destroying the already compromised tree. In blind panic it shot out for another tree, but each one toppled over with the strain of the heavy Walker's weight.
The skimmer whirled about, ducking neatly under each fallen trunk. "The moment you get a clear shot," Red told his gunner, "kill it."
"Aye, sir."
And maybe Red had miscalculated. Or maybe the young Monman was that determined to go down fighting because it continued to pull down treetops as it flailed and even if it wasn't shot to death or killed on impact, it would've been crushed by the tons upon tons of trees following it at breakneck speeds.
Conus tried her best to weave about, but the increase in fallen objects and the wide branches limited the skimmer's movement. The force of each trunk's impact in the ground corrupted the propellers' air current and it wobbled unsteadily, clipped on all sides by branches ranging from hair thin to as thick as an engine block. One branch bounced the skimmer into a trunk, launching it into the air where it was battered by another falling tree and crashed into the ground, bottom up. The Monman hit the ground with a broken thud, its spine cracked in three places and fractured bones piercing its organs. Its agony was short lived when it was crushed by the falling treetops.
Red moaned, managing to get to his hands and knees after several false starts. He coughed and called out to his shipmates. Neither answered back. Dizzy and limping, Red crawled over to Conus and accessed her pak. It bleeped at him, replying that, while she was alive, she sustained several minor head injuries and internal bruising. Going to the gunner (whose name he suddenly couldn't remember- great, he was probably concussed) he noticed the unnatural way he laid across the back of the .50 cal. Having hastily added in the weapon, there wasn't enough time to create a proper safety harness. He apparently shattered his collar bone on the buttstock and his pak bleeped, requesting medical treatment.
Panting and overexerting himself, Red tried the emergency exit hatch, but it was shut tight. Most likely a part of a tree had fallen over it. Dragging his body to the communications panel (where it sparked sullenly and was barely functioning) Red sent out a distress call and hoped someone would hear it.
Purple and his group were proceeding back to their own side slowly. Mainly for the fact that they had found the rest of the Monmen's Walker platoon. For precautions, Purple had sent the squads at the ends of the procession forward, just in case they somehow got into a fight with the Walkers and failed to win. That left Purple with about eight squads to work with and- if they organized right –enough firepower to deal with the potential threat.
Each squad was made up of four different parts known as Team, Ready, Fire and Assist. Team was the leader of the squad, Ready carried the radio and signaling equipment or any other electronics for the mission. Fire and Assist both carried the most weaponry though Fire- generally placed forward of the squad –had a long-range scope and a wide-ranged, automatic weapon while the Assist carried the heavy weapons such as RPGs and demolitions. Purple's squad followed the platoon directly so he could readily judge the course of action. His Ready quietly gained his attention.
"Sir," his antennae signed to him, "we're receiving a faint Irken distress signal."
"Location?" He signed back.
"About three miles ahead, bearing 12 degrees to the south."
Purple debated. Though they were told never to leave any Irken technology (especially paks which could easily discern their weaknesses) behind, it wasn't an unfamiliar course of action to leave Irken stragglers behind. After all, they had no use for the weak. Instead of coming to a decision he tuned into the signal that was bounced from the far squads.
A voice crackled brokenly in his head: "This is In-der Red –questing back up. –skimmer's trapped, the –lot and gunn- are uncon-ous. Can't –out. –vader Re- requesting –ck up-"
Purple's eyes narrowed to mere slits. Red? The transmission made his body run cold. If Red was killed now there would be no one to stand in Purple's way to become the next Tallest. It wasn't surprising to leave the weak behind. But… Purple bit his lip. Red WASN'T weak. He was just as powerful and intelligent as Purple was and to let someone with that much talent die so wastefully in a fight that shouldn't have become… THIS…
His attention was drawn to the Walkers that suddenly switched directions. Purple growled to himself. "They've picked up the transmission, haven't they?" He signed to his Ready.
The only part of the nod he saw was the bowing of antennae. If it were anyone else, Purple thought, he wouldn't hesitate to let him rot. But… he REALLY hated the Monmen and giving them the satisfaction of killing someone that was very nearly his equal (but inferior) didn't sit right with Purple.
Growling and fidgeting and generally abhorring Red's very existence, Purple knew he was going to kick himself for this later.
The Irkens moved across the trees several meters above the Walkers, keeping in tandem with the machines to keep from being spotted. They were forced to an early stop when they came across a sudden clearing of half-trees, trunks littering the forest floor. The Walkers were clearly hesitant at the amount of destruction to their home while the Irkens appraised the sight with dark smirks. They frowned, however, at the underbelly of one of their Mirri Skimmers, mostly buried in leaves and half crushed beyond recognition. One of the stabilizers poked through the foliage, nearly severed from the main body. Even from where they were Purple could smell fuel leaking out.
"Orders, sir?"
Purple rolled the situation around in his head before he stated: "They'll try to take the crew hostage. Walkers are strong enough to move the trees away so we'll wait until they clear off the ship before we attack. Have the right side circle around and, once the command is given, have them fire RPGs on the Walkers further out. The others will have to be taken down with precision shots- the Walkers aren't military issued so there's plenty of gaps in the armor to kill the operators. The ones closest to the skimmer, though, will have to be taken down melee style. We don't want to risk blowing up the ship just yet."
"Do you think the ship is operational?"
"If it was, they wouldn't be sending a distress signal. We're not too far from the armory. Have someone unload the fuel and trail it back to the armory. When we blow the ship, that'll go up with it."
"Yessir."
"I'm going to take two squads down to the ship. We'll use only spider legs and cutters- and be careful not to spark close to the leak."
The Ready nodded and relayed the message to the other squads. They had long since maneuvered into their positions before the Monmen could get the last tree off the ship. Purple signaled and a propelled grenade blew up a Walker in a mess of heat and blood. Several other explosions impact on or around the machines, drawing the Walkers away from the ship before Purple and his squads swung in behind them like leaves through shadows.
Before the Walkers were aware of the rear assault, two of them had suddenly dropped to the ground, the pak cutters quickly severing the limbs from the main bodies. Purple and two others tried to pry one of the emergency hatches open but the metal had twisted the hinge until it was wedge into a crease. Frustrated, Purple took an evaluating look at the fight around him. A few of the Walkers were holding their own but most of the Monmen fell to their baser instincts and retreated up nearby trees. Though the Irken squads were slower, it gave them a safe distance to use heavier firepower.
Purple, not certain how long they could curb the attack before reinforcements came, carefully began to cut the door free with one cutter. Motioning the others to step back, Purple reared all four legs back and smashed the hatch in.
He almost didn't dodge the shot that came from inside.
Red's blaster lowered slightly. "Oh." He said, calmer than he felt. "It's you."
Purple gritted his teeth and GLARED- kicking himself for this stupid rescue sooner than he thought. "Yeah. Me. And you're gonna pay for this one, too." The attack had splintered two of his spider legs and they barely managed to fold back inside the pak. He took stock of Red's condition- tilting to one side and having trouble focusing. If he had been in top condition, Purple probably wouldn't have survived that.
He waved the other two drones forward. "Grab the pilot and gunner." Purple, being the only one tall enough, was granted the unappealing task of having to carry Red. Just as he was propping Red upright, he received a message.
"Sir, this is Squad 3. We've finished trailing the fuel to the armory and are headed back but we've come across another group of Walkers- these look to be squad sized and they check out as military issued and their heading your way."
G'ah- would NOTHING go right today? With his spider legs out of commission and Red in no condition to pilot himself, Purple could only come up with one conclusion. Thick tubes came from out of Purple's pak and attached Red securely against his chest. The other Irken's head lulled slightly and Purple gave him a jostle.
"Stay awake!" He hissed. "If you die while I kill myself, I'll make your life a living hell." Red went 'ungh' but lifted his head enough to show he was still conscious. Purple sent a communication to all Irken personnel in a 500-meter radius: "Fall back now. The ship is about to explode and hopefully it'll take the enemy up with it." He jostled Red again. "This is going to be close and most likely painful."
"Oh good." Red muttered weakly back. "I'm not in enough pain as it is."
Glad he was at least in a state of mind to be sarcastic, Purple opened up his communicator again. "Is everyone safely away?"
"Yessir! But the Monmen are converging on the ship again!"
"Just hold your positions." He then muttered under his breath, "And hope we make it." Bracing the both of them by the doorway, Purple's boosters slid from the pak and did their low rumbling buildup. When the first of the Walkers came into view, the two sped out, knocking it over with surprising velocity as the heat and blue flame of the boosters ignited the fuel.
The heat from the explosion was searing across his back and Purple could hear the snapping and exploding of metal parts. Whines and howls rose up around him, the crackling of burning tears and the sharp scent of boiling skin and fuel was like a knife in his brain. He raced against the explosion, whipping around trees with barely a thought.
He never found out if they were safe though, because something stabbed him in the back.
When he woke up he was cold. Which was odd because that damned planet was nothing but a ball of green humidity. Being cold wasn't something that happened. Being not sticky was the same way but he certainly didn't feel like he just took a bath in glue.
There was someone standing over him and he didn't know who it was. Or maybe he just couldn't see. It was just a green blur and the background was spinning wildly.
Ooo, he was gonna be sick…
When he woke up again he was still cold and not sticky but less prone to being subjugated before the unruly landscape. Room. Whatever.
He didn't know how long he was awake but he became vaguely aware of someone else (having entered? been there?) in the room. Though his eyesight and presence of mind cleared, he still couldn't recognize who it was.
About the most intelligent conversation he could come up with is, "Where am I?"
"My Tallest."
"How are they?"
"Invader Red has regained consciousness and is doing well. His burns have been treated, and had only suffered a minor concussion and he should be back in working condition within two weeks but I wouldn't put him back in the field for another eight months. We were able to reset his arm with pins and wires, but it will take a bit for the grafts to fully integrate with the bone structure."
"And Purple?"
"…He's… We're not entirely certain."
"What do you mean?"
"Most of his wounds are completely superficial, the burns are already beginning to heal. But we've had to pull shrapnel out of his pak for five minutes- there was a lot of damage done to it. We don't have the facilities to fix it here and some of the more vital parts are severely damaged. We're not entirely certain if he can survive long enough to reach the flagship."
"You can't do ANYTHING about it?"
"There is a…slim chance…"
Red was edgy. He was aware and focusing and in pain and man did he ever want to get out of this boring place. He was considering jumping up and attacking the next person that came in and sneak out that way if his body would cooperate.
The door opened.
"My-My Tallest!" He gasped. Then doubled over when his bones showed their displeasure at the sudden jolt.
Tallest Flitch put a hand to his head. "Just… calm down, Invader Red." He said somewhat tightly. Then, a little softer, he asked, "Have you been told about what happened?"
"Er, yes, My Tallest." Red wheezed out. "I was debriefed."
"Then you're aware of what happened to Invader Purple?"
If it was possible for an Irken to pale, Red would have. "What happened to Purple?"
The first thing said was 'Ow' followed by a cough. Which lead to more 'ow'ing and more coughing until someone else said, "Would you knock it off already?"
"Guh… someone kill me…"
"Oh no you don't. Not until you've been properly grateful, freakin' moocher."
It took a moment to place the voice. "…R-Red?"
"Yeah, what?"
Purple tried to bring himself to his elbows but quickly halted the endeavor when the pain became too much. He was on his stomach in some room that was nearly silent. They were off world in some ship. Looking around he saw Red stretched out on a bed nearby, arms under his chin like he didn't have a care in the world. Except for an irritated crease in his forehead.
"What happened?"
"Just go back to sleep, will you? You're draining me." He snapped back. Purple felt his hackles rise.
"Hey, I saved your life you ungrateful bastard! You owe me some sort of courtesy here!"
"Yeah. I DID. Before I had to save YOUR life."
Purple blinked. "What?"
Red turned and glared at him. "Look around, bright one. We're in a medical ship."
To most species, discerning an Irken's regular room from their medbay was difficult because all their structures had the same disinfectant, cold and filled with softly beeping panels and harsh lights. The only real difference was that the medbays tended to be less cluttered then most other rooms and had large monitors for the staff to watch the patients.
What Purple found disturbing, however, was not only the fact that he had to share a room with Red (their beds in close proximity as well) but also the fact wires were hooking them together. More specifically, wires were hooking their PAKS together.
"WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?" Purple jerked away. "Why the hell am I connected to you? Argh, getoutgetougetouge-"
"Will you shut up!" Red lunged over and clamped a hand over Purple's mouth. "I freakin' swear, Purple, if you make the doctors come in here and sedate you, I'm just going to have them pull the plug and you can just wither and die on your own, got it? I don't like this any better than you but it's gotta be done so just DEAL."
Certain that Purple was done freaking out, Red retracted his hand and continued to glare. Purple, a little cowed and somewhat embarrassed about his outburst (not too much, though, connecting to another's pak without concession was probably some species' equivalent of being violated), laid back down.
"Um," he said at length, "why AM I connected to you?"
Red sighed. "Because the explosion nearly broke your pak. It couldn't run itself properly so I volunteered to hook up to it and now my pak is working for the both of us until we can get to a proper engineering facility. So if you start flailing around again you're either going to black us both out the paks will reject each other again."
Purple grumbled and buried his head in his pillow. Doing a pak to pak support was risky, mainly for the fact that paks tended to reject or destroy any object that wasn't supposed to be inside it. This included support cables from other paks. It also ran the risk that the supporting party wouldn't be strong enough to handle supporting two beings or that one would overpower the other and, literally, drain the life out of them.
For hours it seemed, the two lay quietly, trying not to disturb the delicate union (despite how grotesque it sounded having a piece of Red inside of Purple, g'uh) when Purple couldn't help but ask:
"Why are you saving me?"
And Red took a while, running answers around in his head before he finally decided on, "I don't like being indebted to you." And even that sounded weak to both of them. "Why did you save me?"
And Purple took even longer to answer and his sounded even weaker. "I wanted you to owe me."
And even though neither of them said it, maybe it was a thought that passed through their conjoined paks that said, somehow, things wouldn't be as fun without each other around.
He watched them, satisfied that both Invaders would survive as they came upon their space station, a team of engineers already gathered and waiting to dock. Once he made certain that the procedure to reconstruct Purple's pak was well underway and successful, he marched up to the bridge and had his communications officer punch up a line to a planet several light years away.
A wide, gray face and yellow goggled eyes peered into the screen in surprise. The creature saluted smartly. "My Tallest!" It said loudly. "I am honored that you-"
"Can it." Tallest Flitch snapped back. With narrowed eyes he told the cowering creature with dark intensity: "Invader Vale, prepare your attack. We'll be at Vort in eight days."