"Well…" Corr drew out, checking the time, "it's very late, and I think you had better be on your ways."
"We can't leave now, Professor," DZ replied, still awed by the tale that was spoken thus far, "so much has happened, things I didn't even think were possible, no offense to you of course, Sir, but behind this veil of secrecy."
"So far, it does make sense," Digits, the logical one, added with a nod, "Praxxus 7 was always described in history as this impenetrable fortress, up until it fell in a matter of 6 hours. If that's true, then it does prove your story correct, Sir, especially if a full-on invasion was stopped dead in its tracks after 14 grueling hours of combat, and a return a year later in less than 6…there's no other way imaginable."
"I'd like to think I'm a bit modest," Corr smirked, "but Impending Doom II would have been a crushing repeat of what took place before, even if Zim hadn't meddled before. The Armada hadn't fully recovered yet and the Tallest at the time were growing impatient, hence the rushed nature of Impending Doom II. Praxxus 7 was a morale boost for the entire Armada, and propelled many victories for the previous Irken Empire."
"So your unit, these…Shadow Strikers," Joker concluded, still finding it difficult to grasp the story, "were essentially responsible for the sheer success of the second Praxxus 7 campaign, a mere 10 soldiers, no support of any kind, against an entire moon's defenses?"
"…Yes, that's correct," Corr replied nonchalantly, as to him, it was just another day at the office. "Cadets, I hate to rush you, but you must return to your bunks, it's already late as it is, and I'm sure your drill in-"
Heavy, rapid bangs against the metal door echoed in the silence, startling the three of them. Corr seemed to expect it…it was only a matter of time, after all. With a simple press of the button on his desk, he unlocked the door, allowing it to slide into its recess above the frame.
Sergeant Gis wasn't the tallest Irken you had ever seen, but he was frightening to say the least. More stout than anything, his small stature emphasized it greatly. His grit teeth and squinted emerald eyes only hardened that much more at the sight of his three missing Cadets.
"Atten-HUH!" He boomed, the three of them scrambling to their feet, Joker tripping on his helmet before tucking it under his arm to join his comrades at attention. "What the Irk do the three of you think you're doing, huh?"
"Sir!" DZ spoke confidently, assuming command as he was squad leader, "I take full responsibility for being out of our bunks past lights out. I won't make an excuse, Sir, but I will explain…Professor Corr was telling us of his pa-"
"I apologize, Sergeant, it was my fault, I summoned for them after they were through with their drills for the day to finish a lecture that we began in class earlier this day." Corr calmly spoke to the fuming Gis.
"Apology or not, regs are regs, Professor," Gis attempted civility, snapping his attention back to his Cadets, "as for you three…you're lucky I'm in a good mood…1 week, mess hall duty."
"Ah, come on, Sergea-"Joker complained.
"You want latrine duty, Cadet?" He interrupted, startling him as he got in his face.
"No, Sir! Mess hall is a very fitting punishment, Sir!" Joker straightened up, shuddering within at the idea of clearing the latrines for a week.
"Good, all of you hit the bunk, tomorrow starts bright and early, you'll wish you were in that bed when you were supposed to be, I guarantee you that…dismissed." Gis assured, thrusting a finger towards the door.
Heel-to-toe, the procession marched out in orderly fashion as instructed, leaving Gis and Corr in the room.
"So, Commander, Sir? Gis began, noticing how alive the old-timer looked, the most in a long time, "…I see you're in chipper spirits."
"You can say that, Sergeant," Corr nodded with a smile as he began packing his belongings. "It's nice to see some respectful smeets these days, I'm sure I can thank you for their discipline."
"Discipline is what keeps you alive, Sir," Gis spoke from experience, or so it seemed. Good advice from a good friend. "…so you decided to tell them, didn't you?"
"…Yeah…I did," Corr admitted, knowing instantly what the Sergeant spoke of. There was an inner circle that was knowledgeable of the Shadow Strikers throughout the Irken Republic, and Corr had previously let Gis in on the secret, more or less to save himself hassle in the long run. Gis understood the weight that information carried, and if he was to spread it unrestricted…things, very…unfortunate things could happen. Enough time had passed, and now was as good as any to begin.
Unlike Gis though, the three Cadets were getting the full story, not just the simple facts. "…it's been 100 years, now is a good a time as any, better before I don't have a chance to tell anyone, I am old, after all."
"I hate to admit it, Sir, but it is the inevitable, so until then, we'll make the best of it," Gis offered, not wanting to bring his high spirits down.
"Yes, yes," Corr nodded in agreement as he finished collecting his belongings and prepared to go home for the day, "…besides, I haven't got to the best part yet."
"I've never seen so many Irken in once place before," Vult thought, Corr and the Ripper SIR unit that seemed to answer to the name of "Mrs. Quackers", courtesy of Aero's naming conventions.
Speaking of conventions, he had never been to Conventia, the Irken Empire's convention hall planet, usually playing host to affairs on a grand scale. The Great Assigning was no different. Almighty Tallest Red and Purple's inauguration had been the previous event, but event his eclipsed that on sheer scale. Over half of the Armada was present, millions upon millions of Irken gathered for the announcement of Operation Impending Doom II, a re-hash of the first, minus one infamous Invader's meddling…or so Commander Vult thought.
"Where are the Tallest, Sir?" Corr asked as they walked side by side, making their way through the masses of Irken finding their way back to their ships to join the fleet.
"Well, hopefully they haven't boarded their ship yet. I'd rather not have to chase them down halfway across the galaxy," Vult honestly admitted, avoiding speaking ill of his leaders, but it was almost begging for it, "but it won't be surprising with the Massive just recently completed though…they are easily entertained."
"Have faith, Sir," Corr backed up, "I'm sure with everything that is going on, they are still here, especially with the Invaders and all."
"Invaders? Corr, please, don't insult us," Vult defended himself mainly, "they are over-glorified forward scouts and spies, nothing more. Soldiers win wars, not Invaders. Invaders need no one? That is the biggest load of tripe I've ever heard. They are a joke of the Irken Elite, to be quite honest. I suppose I can thank the propaganda machine for that one."
"I…apologize, Commander, I didn't realize you felt so strongly about them, I didn't mean anything by it."
"I know, Captain, but I would just like to remind you that we are the best and will remain so. Even in plain sight…"
"We stay to the shadows," Corr immediately responded with a smirk, turning to the SIR unit. "Isn't that right, SIR?"
"Yes, Sir, Captain," it responded in a dark, artificial voice.
It was hard to miss them towering over the sea of green heads and antenna not too far ahead, Irken Elite in Invader uniform seeming to be receiving their standard SIR units. Vult's was before the production run and highly modified. In truth, much of what the Shadow Strikers had done thus far was various testing of equipment and technology. Thankfully it had been successful for the most part, and he hoped it remained that way in their possession. The two Irken Spec Ops and SIR unit approached the imperial leaders at the equipping station.
"Yes, yes, these SIR units will provide you with the necessary data to conquer your assigned worlds," Red assured, motioning, "now off you go…to your worlds…away from here."
Purple seemed to watch as the Invaders filed out, small robots in tow.
"…okay, they're gone," he commented, watching as his co-ruler's face instantly went from a smile to a depressed, unenthused frown.
"Finally, I can only take so much annoyance in one day."
"My Tallest," Vult called for attention, clearing his throat.
The two leaders turned in unison to face him and Corr, the SIR unit instantly snapping a salute to the leaders.
"Ah, Commander," Red began, his mood lightening slightly, "what news do you bring?"
Vult offered this small circular disk to Tallest Red to accept. He only did so after assuring that no one else was around them, knowing that the Tallest prided the Shadow Strikers for the secrecy they demanded of them. Without it, they were just an over-privileged Spec Ops squad. Being the best demanded more of them.
"This is the after-action report for our operations at Praxxus 7, My Tallest," he proudly beamed, watching as Red activated the holo-disc, the information and data scrolling before him. "As you can clearly see, the mission was a resounding success, and the advance Armada vessels should be landing planetside and prepping it as a staging point for the assault on Vort."
"Impressive, Commander, most impressive indeed," Red admitted, but his tone didn't match his words. He was never one for praising the "help" as he so often referred to the empire he led alongside Tallest Purple. "This will do very nicely for Invader Larb, actually having aid within striking distance. He is tasked with taking it ov-"
Vult was confused as to why he stopped speaking, Tallest Red's gaze looking at the incredibly short Irken that was marching confidently up to them, a rather strange looking SIR unit at his side. It was undeniable as to who it was, especially after what he had done before. It took all of Vult's restraint and respect for the Tallest to not rip him limb from limb with his bare hands.
"What are you still doing here, Zim?" Purple asked, annoyed, Red equal in expression. "Why aren't you going towards your doom, er, I mean, your mission planet?"
"No, My Tallest," his shrill voice responded very energetically, "I have not left yet."
"Clearly," Red sarcastically spoke, leaning down to be closer to the small Irken's face, "what do you want, Zim?"
Vult finally spoke up, more awestruck at seeing Zim than anything.
"I thought he was banished, why is he at the Great Assigning?"
Red placed his head in his palm, shaking his head. "…It's a long story," Purple answered, turning attention back to Zim. "You already have your mission, a SIR unit, and my sandwich…go…now."
"My Tallest, I have returned to see if you have any special requests of Zim for this ungodly planet that has no name, Zim's secret mission." He continued, despite being told to go away several times. Referring to himself in 3rd person only added to the annoyance.
"No!" Red and Purple both denied in unison, Tallest Red taking over, "Just…go, Zim. Contact us once you…establish a base or something. Just…leave, please."
"Yes, My Tallest, I shall," he finally obeyed, but it didn't last long, "who knows? By then I may have already conquered it."
Before either of the Irken leaders could mouth a response, he had turned about and began marching away, the strange SIR bounding after him.
"I know you are very busy, My Tallest, so moving on," Vult began, finally rid of the annoyance. "Now that my team has softened Praxxus 7 up significantly for the coming invasion, I am cur-"
"WAIT, WAIT, MY TALLEST!!! WAIT!!!" Zim screamed, sprinting back as if it was the end of the universe. "WAIT FOR ZIM!!!"
"What is it now, Zim?" Red grinded his teeth, almost certain that he was accomplishing the task literally.
"Tank?" Zim almost begged, making grabbing hands with his claws as he wiggled his fingers.
"No," Purple denied, Red shaking his head in agreement.
"What?!" The small Irken demanded, feeling betrayed.
"No tanks, Zim," Tallest Red made clear, "they're for battle-hardened soldiers, like Commander Vult here, not Invaders."
"…come again?" He requested, unable to comprehend what his leaders just said…or he simply wasn't paying attention. "Why no tanks for Zim?!"
"No," they reiterated, becoming visibly frustrated.
"But I am Zim!!!...and I really want one," he finished in a child like matter. It was a miracle that this Irken was an Invader…and not deactivated for being incredibly inept.
"No Zim, go away," Purple made abundantly clear that was their stance on the issue, even attempting to wave him off. Tallest Red's blood was boiling by this point.
"Huh?" The little Irken dumbfoundedly questioned.
"GO…NOW, ZIM!!!" Red finally blew up, shaking his fists, finally pointing towards the boarding of the docking ring. "just…go." He growled, eye twitching violently.
Who was going to stop him if he decided to strangle the life from Zim? He was the leader of the universe's most powerful empire after all.
"Fine, I shall go for now," Zim beamed, even in defeat in his attempt to acquire battle tanks, "but I shall call back and hopefully you will reconsider. ZIM IS AWAY NOW, MOVE YOU WRETCH!!!" Zim exclaimed, shoving past Commander Vult, enough to move him, as well enough to further agitate him at his sheer disrespect. It was quite the feat all in its own, Zim was half Vult's size, and it took a considerable amount of force to move him, he would give him that much. Even in the regular Armada ranks, Vult would be of a higher rank, no questions asked, and would have earned Zim a write-up, and in this case, a beating for insubordination.
"Sure, whatever, just go…far away from us," Tallest Purple declared.
Corr was more surprised at his commanding officer at being so reserved, simply straightening his uniform back out, peering through angered slits of eyes as the Invader marched away, hopefully for the last time. It seemed even he too knew that Vult would have quickly ended Zim's existence without remorse if they hadn't been in the presence of their leaders.
"As Tallest Purple said, Commander…it's a long story," Red explained, regaining his composure, "one that you shouldn't trouble yourself with."
"I've already forgotten what has taken place, My Tallest," Vult calmly informed, Corr seeming to be the only one that noticed his words didn't match his visage, "now, as I was trying to say before that Invader rudely interrupted, Praxxus 7 has been opened up for the invasion forces. Take the moon, and it is a staging ground for Vort, just as planned in Operation Impending Doom I."
"Yes, yes, of course," Red agreed, Tallest Purple nodding as well, "but your team is no longer needed for the Praxxus 7 campaign, regular Armada forces will take over from here."
"So what is our next course of action then, My Tallest?" Vult asked of his leaders, struck odd that only after one assignment on the enemy world, they would be sent elsewhere. It didn't matter though, orders were orders, and he vowed to follow them, no matter what.
The Tallest began hovering mere inches off the ground, apparently towards boarding the docking ring.
"Come Commander, walk with us, we'll explain as we go. We're already behind schedule as it is," Red informed.
Vult, Corr, and the SIR unit obediently obeyed, marching at their side.
"Yeah, we're supposed to be watching Praxxus 7 getting pummeled into oblivion by the Armada by now," Tallest Purple pouted, "we can thank Zim for that one."
"There will be plenty of destruction left by the time we arrive," Red assured his co-ruler, turning his attention back to Vult, "we actually have an assignment set for you, very similar to what took place on Praxxus 7. Your team will be the preemptive strike against Vort. Granted, it is considerably larger than Praxxus 7, as well as heavily defended, and contains a denser population. All you need to do is open up a gap in that defensive network over the planet's surface so the Armada can land ground forces planetside and begin the attack."
"Of course, My Tallest, I shall ma-"
"First things first though," Purple interrupted, handing Vult a different holo-disc, "it appears we have an issue with Irken abandoning their posts."
Vult pressed the activation button, a holographic image of a female Irken began rotating, as well as information regarding her assignment and whereabouts scrolled. She was a little above average height of the Irken population, close to Vult's, and possessed deep violet eyes. The information was very vague at best, but from a visual standpoint, he could tell she had some kind of implant or augmentation.
"Not long ago, we received word that this Janitorial Drone had abandoned her post on Planet Dirt for an unknown reason." Red began, motioning towards the hologram, "I suggested that we remotely deactivated her, but someone," he emphasized, motioning towards his co-ruler, "thinks it looks more…merciful to simply recover her and put her back at her post."
"It's always violence with you," Purple defended, "why don't you try showing compassion for once?"
"It's not in the job description, besides, compassion is for weak smeets," Red countered, returning his gaze back to Vult.
"Planet Dirt, My Tallest?" He quizzingly asked. "I'm not familiar with it."
"The name speaks for itself, Commander," Red exasperated, "the coordinates are in your orders. It is the dumping grounds of the Armada, anything and everything that can be thrown away ends up there, mainly junk and scrap from destroyed Armada vessels and vehicles. We theorize she constructed a space-faring craft from parts, and left the planet."
"Is there anything else I should know about this Janitorial Drone, My Tallest?" Vult requested, not a fan of surprises.
"Everything in the database on that PAK serial number belonging to her is in that holo-disc, Commander," Purple assured, "if there is something, even we don't know of it. The more time you waste here, the farther away from Dirt she is going to get. Space is very…big, Commander, don't lose her."
"Yes, Sir, My Tallest," Vult went to attention, saluting, Corr and the SIR unit following suit. "We will depart at once and contact you once we recover the Janitorial Drone."
"We know you will, Commander," Tallest Red nodded in a patronizing manner. "Dismissed."
Vult did an about face, beginning their trek back to The Ghost of Irk. In order to not garner attention on the docking ring, Rem landed in planetside to make it much easier to hide.
"Permission to speak freely, Commander?" Corr questioned as they marched side-by-side.
"Corr, I've told you before, if you have something on your mind, just say it, there's no need to ask for my permission," Vult lightheartedly put, feeling as if they had developed a brotherly bond to warrant such informal conversation.
"…don't you think this is a little…odd?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that we are a unit of highly specialized Spec Ops soldiers, tasked with going after a single rogue Janitorial Drone…to be quite honest, Commander, something doesn't feel right about this." Corr admitted, "I know the Almighty Tallest decreed it as such, but if anything, we should be deployed to Vort to aid with the invasion as opposed to tracking down one of our own. It's a waste of our talent and resources."
"I understand your plight, Corr," Vult admitted, "but that is the nature of the beast. We're given our orders; we follow them, that's how things are. They didn't seem to be in a very good mood today anyway, dealing with Zim and all, so I wasn't about to question these orders. A Janitorial Drone shouldn't be hard to find, they're not exactly masters of space travel, evasion, and understanding of military-grade equipment. We'll find her without incident and return her to Dirt in no time, finally be on our way back to Vort to grind them into dust."
"I truly hope so, Commander," Corr nodded in agreement, "out of curiosity, what is her name? The Tallest didn't say, simply referring to her as a Janitorial Drone."
Vult activated the holo-disc once more, scrolling through the information.
"Hmm…it says here that her name is…Tak, Janitorial Drone Tak," Vult read, studying the image once more. The more he looked at it, the more ill-at-ease he began to feel. Something about her just didn't feel right. "The Tallest said everything on her was here, and I'm not a fan of surprises, Captain."
He, Corr, and the rest of the Shadow Strikers unit were about to be in for quite the surprise. That year of combat training and study of ancient techniques was about to come in real handy.