A/N: Aaaaah, crap crap crap, I missed Friday by less than five minutes! I'm SO SORRY this is up late! Man, do I feel stupid. Sorry!!
Well, enjoy the chapter anyway. I'd come up with something else brilliant to say but this chapter is late enough as it is. Please review!
xxxxx
In Short Supply
Political Corruption
xxx
A transcript of an internal monologue from the Control Brain Triumvirate on Judgmentia, documented for personal reference on Fri. Mar. 13 and soon to be accessed before their meeting with Tallest Red on Sun. Mar. 15:
file subject: ALMIGHTY TALLEST PURPLE height: 217 UNITS age: 1 ERA 6 YEARS
main document: We find cause to be disturbed by Almighty Tallest Purple's recent behavior. He has drifted several times beyond our reaches, interacted with Irkens whom we can neither identify nor locate, made monetary transactions which we cannot determine the purpose of, and furthermore deceived and continues deceive his co-ruler, Almighty Tallest Red.
It is rare that an Irken escapes our reaches, and when it happens, it is almost invariably intentional on that Irken's part. We have several pieces of highly convincing evidence that would indicate that this is the case with Almighty Tallest Purple, although we shall not review this evidence at this time; our evidence has been documented in previous monologues.
Therefore, we clearly have just reason to be concerned about Almighty Tallest Purple. In addition, we strongly suspect that he does not trust us to assist in his endeavors, whatever they may be. He has expressed suspicion of our capabilities, which unsettles and alarms us. After all, it is highly illogical for an Irken in full control of their mental capacities to distrust a Control Brain, most particularly we three who run the entirety of the Irken Empire. Our sole job, which we perform flawlessly, is to assist the Tallest in the ruling of the empire; we thus may be able to either assist Almighty Tallest Purple or alleviate his fears, whatever they may be.
After all, we are here to make running the Irken Empire easier for everyone.
However, if he will not seek us out himself, then we may not seek him out. It is not in our programming to do so. We merely react to events and acknowledge the directions of the Tallest.
If we are to do our duty, then we are fortunate that Almighty Tallest Red has sought to speak with us in 471°. We hope to be able to alert him to these dangers. The security of the empire may depend on his taking action under our direction.
xxx
"Are you sure you can handle the Massive all by yourself for a few days?" Red asked, smirking.
"Well, duh." Purple said, crossing his arms. "I mean it's not like I'm piloting the thing." All the while mental urging Red to hurry up and just leave already. How long did it take to say "don't blow anything up while I'm gone"?
"Good thing, too." Red's grin widened.
So Purple had failed the final test to become a Pilot. Four times. Red didn't have to bring it up like that, though. "So where are you going? Cheaphookeria, right?"
The grin faded from Red's face. "Yeah. There." Odd, Purple thought Red would've sounded more excited. Then again, occasionally Red could be a bit secretive about his dancing habits. Okay, really secretive. Sometimes Purple wondered what he was hiding. It wasn't like he was a xenophile or anything, right?
"So, see you in a few days," Red said, waving as he left the bridge. "And try not to blow anything up."
"Shut up!" They were both grinning, but the grins were less natural than usual. And still thinking: hurry up, hurry up, get out of here already.
Purple waited a degree. Then he glanced at one of the Comm Techs. "Is he gone yet?"
"Uh..." The Tech checked her computer. "Yes, sir. Tallest Red has left the Massive."
"Good. Then I'm leaving for a few days. I'll be back before Red, so just maintain the Massive's current course until then. Unless it's heading towards a star or something. You know what I mean."
The Techs all looked at Purple in surprise. One Navigation Tech asked, "But, where are you going, sir?"
What was with the questions? Couldn't Purple just leave?! "To Ear—er... err..." That had been close. Purple thought fast. "Foodcourtia. Yeah."
Baffled, the Tech asked, "Why now?"
Hells and voids, what was it going to take to get off this stupid ship! He's survived four weeks of constant wary looks, was this extra dose before he left really necessary? "Because I need a break too!" Purple snarled, leaning over the Tech with the questions. "What's with the Spanish Inquisition, anyway?"
"What's a Spanish Inquisition?"
"Hey! Am I paying you to talk back?!"
For a moment, the Tech maintained eye contact with Purple. But, at last, he lowered his head meekly. "No, sir."
As soon as he'd given up, another looked up defiantly. "What about the Massive?"
Purple noticed the lack of "sir" but decided it'd take more time to call the Tech down on it than to simply let it slide. "What about it? You can pilot a ship for a few days, can't you? That's your job, isn't it?"
The Tech didn't look pleased. But he did mutter, "Yes... sir."
"Good." Purple looked at the rest of the Techs again, attempting to stare them down but, as he glanced from face to face, he slowly found himself being the one to avert his eyes. They were all glaring at him distrustfully, almost hatefully—he couldn't remember their ever looking at him like that before. Anyone looking at him that way before. Except maybe Tallest Spork, but Purple had never liked Spork; he'd been a militaristic Soldier fanatic and Purple... well, wasn't much of a Soldier.
And maybe Zim had given him that look, if only briefly.
But besides those two exceptions of insane idiots, never had someone, anyone that Purple outranked so thoroughly, dared look at him with such loathing. He tried to tell himself that it didn't matter, he was still Tallest—well, he would be until one of those Techs drew a laser and no one moved to stop him. This was why he wanted to get away from the Massive.
Pretending not to notice anything, he said, "So, uh... I'll be back in a few days. Just keep up the good work. And... don't tell Red I left. That's an order. Got it?"
The disgust was so thick Purple could almost smell it.
"I said got it?!"
Slowly, the Comm and Nav Techs mumbled assent. Well, whatever—assent was assent, and Purple had said he was leaving, and he was. He kept his head up to avoid the Techs' gazes (too short, almost all of them, they could all be part of the conspiracy: 70 units, 85 units, 65, 60, 80, 125—he might be okay—65, 140—her too—60, 75...), and left the bridge.
He didn't feel safe until he was far away from the bridge, away from all other Irkens, in the hangar, in his Spittle Runner, out of the Massive, out of range of the Massive's weapons—until he was in the wormhole that would deposit him less than two degrees from the one place in the universe where Purple thought he'd be protected from his own empire.
He couldn't wait to get to Zim.
xxx
"Tallest Purple? We weren't expecting you for another few days." Bob was equal parts surprise and suspicion. "What do you want?"
"I want to land in Zim's base," Purple said firmly, narrowing his eyes at Bob on the view screen. "Let me in."
Bob didn't move. "Zim hasn't had the eggs yet."
"Yeah, I know that. I want you to let me in anyway. So do it."
"Zim's still at scho—"
"Unless you have a death wish, Drone, let me in NOW!"
Bob flinched. "Y-you don't need to be so nasty about it," he said, blinking rapidly. "I was going to let you in. Sir."
"Then do it." Under his breath, Purple added, "Loser."
"Jerk," Bob retorted, and ended the transmission.
xxx
"I can't believe that Zita's pregnant! Can you, buddy?"
"Uh-huh."
"Think, that's going to completely change her life. And she's only just turned fourteen."
"Uh-huh."
"But at least she'll have a baby. Everyone wants to have a baby, right, best pal?"
"Uh-huh."
"Just think, they're so small and cute and cuddly, and you can feed them and play with them and help them burp and wash their butts when they poop..."
Zim grimaced. His offspring could keep themselves fed and cleaned, or else they weren't worth keeping. And they didn't poop. It was no wonder humans were weak, if they nurtured such helplessness in their own babies. "I can't see why anyone would want to raise such icky things," Zim said disdainfully.
"Oh." Keef stared at his feet, disappointed. "Well, if that's how you feel, pal..."
"Uh-huh." Zim resumed trying to ignore Keef. He didn't really care to hear the gossip about some meatbag's inseminatedness. He had to deal with his own offspring.
"But, you know," Keef said, giving Zim a careful sideways look, "Guys can't have babies. So, if you wanted to, you know, be with somebody else, but you don't want babies, you could be with another guy."
"Uh-huh."
"And I'm a guy..."
"Uh-huh."
"And I don't think you like girls... do you?"
"Uh-huh." Zim realized that a question had been asked, and it took him a moment longer to process it. "Oh. No. Of course not!" Females he liked just fine, but "girls" was exclusively a human word that referred to human females, which were completely different from real females.
"Really?!" Keef smiled gleefully. "Yeah, me too! I-I mean, me neither! So, um, do you wanna—"
"Why do humans like babies so much, anyway?" Zim demanded. "They're so worthless."
"Uh..." For a moment, Keef was dumbfounded. Zim suspected he was amazed at the truth in Zim's statement. "I... I dunno. Maybe they want to help raise a little person to be a productive member of society?"
"Feh, ridiculous!" Zim said. "That's what the teevy is for. Educating meat-babies." He didn't want an actual useful answer from Keef; he wanted to be able to tear down any arguments that threatened his moral superiority as an Irken and as the amazing Zim. He had decided that whatever anyone said in defense of wanting babies would be a stupid idea and he refused to allow anyone to prove him wrong.
"But teevy's not always good for a little kid," Keef said. "There's a lot of violence and sex and bad things."
"Where else are the kids supposed to learn about that stuff?"
Keef shrugged. "Well, maybe the parents want babies out of love?"
"That's the stupidest thing I—wait, what?" Zim hadn't expected that. Since when was there a correlation between mushy sicky romance stuff and the urge to reproduce? Preposterous! "Explain yourself."
"Well, you see, when a man and a woman love each other very much, sometimes they want to have a baby to express their love for each other," Keef said, as if he were revealing one of the most beautiful wonders of the world. "Then they start getting crunk in the clubs with it and the woman gets a ride on the baloney pony and the man bangs his woman like a cheap ho and she gets knocked up and they have a baby." Keef sighed at Zim's expression. "Didn't you pay any attention in Health last year?"
Zim was fairly certain he'd never heard any of this in Health. Although he hadn't been paying much attention. But the important info had been at the beginning of Keef's explanation anyway. "Love. Hah! So that little thing really makes you want offspring?" He rolled his eyes. "If you did it for duty I'd understand. If your President Man commanded you to reproduce, THAT would make sense! But love?" Zim sneered. "Only a fool would become so infatuated with someone else that they'd do something so stupid. You'll never see me obsessed enough to drop everything I'm doing for someone else's sake! I'm no moron!"
"Isn't that a little harsh?" Keef asked.
"Absolutely," Zim agreed. "Anyway. Love. Stuuupid." Zim chuckled at his own clever deduction.
Keef sighed. "Well, Zita isn't pregnant because of love anyway," he said. "She was raped."
"I don't believe in rape. It's a myth!"
"Of course it is," Keef said dully.
Almost home at last, Zim noted in relief. He could finally get away from Keef and—
He stopped in horror. What was Bob doing outside?! He'd compromise Zim's disguise! He couldn't let anyone see! Zim quickly stepped in front of Keef. "Oh no, Keef, quick!"
"What?" Keef asked shrilly, eyes wide. "What is it?!"
Well, this was almost too easy. "Quickly, that way!" Zim pointed over Keef's shoulder. "Go that way, save yourself! It's too horrible to look! Go!"
"Oh no! Oh no! What is it?! Can I help?" Keef's eyes were bulging in fear. "I'll save you, buddy!"
"No, it's not after me, it's after you!" Zim said impatiently. "Now run, hurry!"
"But why—"
"RUN!"
With a terrified wail, Keef turned and fled.
Zim sighed in relief, then pivoted around and marched up to Bob. "You, Drone! What are you doing out here?"
"Tallest Purple told me to get out of his sight." Bob was sitting on the curb in front of Zim's base, elbows on his knees, scowling. Next door, an exceedingly ugly lady watering her plants watched Bob and Zim talk, completely unbothered by the display. She'd gotten used to the little green people next door long ago, and was firmly convinced that they could predict imminent ecological disasters. Kinda like Indians.
"Well, you can't stay out here! What if someone sees you?" Zim said through gritted teeth.
The neighbor considered saying something, but decided against it. After all, the little green boy was so nice. He got her and her husband free cable, what with all the crazy wires he'd put through their wall; the only downside was that sometimes their ball games were interrupted by newsflashes from Conventia. So she turned back to her petunias.
Bob glanced around the street, spotted the lady watering her flowers, and leaped behind a lawn gnome with a soft "Meep!" He looked nervously around again, to make sure no one else could see him. "I'm sorry, sir! I didn't think about—"
"Wait! Did you said Purple's here?"
"Um, yeah? The Tallest's been here about thirty degrees."
"I had no idea! Why wasn't I informed?" If Bob answered, Zim didn't hear it; he was unconsciously tugging the tops of his gloves up straight, reaching down and pulling up on his boots, smoothing his shirt down over his swollen abdomen. He hadn't prepared, he wasn't presentable yet, he wasn't expecting Purple for another couple of days, not until after Zim called him, not until after he'd had the eggs. At least it was a Thursday, even if he had to skip school tomorrow he still had two weekend days after that... work—feh, Zim could miss work. He had vacation days, didn't he? This, this was Tallest Purple. Zim dropped everything he was doing for Purple's sake.
"Where is he now?" Zim asked, hurrying to the front door.
"He was in the subterranean levels when I last... um..." Zim had gone into the base without hearing a word Bob said. Bob sighed and followed Zim.
"Wha—?" He blinked and tried to twist the doorknob again. It wouldn't turn. Zim had locked Bob outside.
Bob stared helplessly at the door. He was stuck outside. Where the humans could get him. Oh, Slark and irk, this wasn't good...
He turned warily to survey the rest of the neighborhood. Sooner or later, a human would notice him. And then the FBI would swoop down and take him away to do subliminal experiments on him. "Somehow," he mumbled, looking around for a hiding place, "this is all Tallest Purple's fault."
xxx
Purple was first alerted that Zim was home by a jubilant, "My Tallest?!"
"Hi, Zim." Purple glanced up, grinned briefly, and looked down again at the computer screen he'd been studying for the past few degrees. "Your computer's got a virus." He didn't know much about computers, but that much he could figure out. And honestly, he'd only figured that out because the computer itself had told Purple, warning him against using the base's recharge chamber. Purple was completely lost as to how in the Firmament he was supposed to get rid of the stupid virus.
"Oh, yeah, it's had it a while," Zim said dismissively, moving beside Purple and looking over his shoulder at the computer screen. Purple was sitting on the ground and Zim was standing perfectly straight, but Purple was still eye level with the top of Zim's head. "Don't worry, it's a harmless virus."
"Really?" Purple was doubtful. He decided to recharge in his Runner. Harmless or not, no way he was hooking himself up to Zim's base while it had a virus.
"Uh-huh. Anyway. Is there a reason why you decided to come to Earth a few days early, my Ta—Pur?" Zim asked. He smirked. "Besides wanting to see me, that is."
Purple wasn't about to tell Zim that he was afraid his own advisors were planning to shove him into a big vat of water. "No real reason, I guess," Purple said, not meeting Zim's gaze.
Zim went from smug to shocked. "Really? You mean... you really came here just to see me?!"
"Uh, you see... Shut up," Purple said. Zim could think whatever he wanted. As long as he didn't think that Purple was afraid.
"Yes, sir!" Zim saluted. "Hey, since you're here early, we can go see a moovy now, right? I still—"
"You don't sound like you're shutting up, Zim."
"Oh. Yeah." He stopped talking for perhaps the length of time it took for a single breath. "So, I still have Stair Wars, or—ooh! I have an idea!" He grinned ecstatically. "We can go to the theme park!"
"'Theme park'?" Purple repeated, getting to his feet. "What's a... whoa."
He stared at Zim. This was the first time Purple had ever seen him quite this... pregnant. He hadn't known that an internal exoskeleton was even designed to be bent out like that; Zim's stomach looked like a giant ball. "Hey, isn't that kinda... er, uncomfortable?"
"Uh..." Zim self-consciously tried to pull his overshirt lower. "Actually... Yes. Very. Amazingly uncomfortable. And inconvenient. Sometimes painful." He said this with a hint of pride.
"Oh. Well... it looks it," Purple said awkwardly. (For a moment he had an awful flashback, a memory of the moment Zim had almost died—"You did this! YOU DID THIS TO ME!"—and was filled with something hollow that felt a little too much like guilt.) "Zim... good job, I guess. On the mission and stuff. You're... doing your empire proud." They were the same words that Purple emptily repeated to every active Invader in the Irken Empire, but this time he said them with half the confidence and quadruple the sincerity.
Zim beamed. "Yeah, I know I am."
"So..." He gestured vaguely towards Zim's abdomen. "How many are there this time?"
"Eight," Zim said. "The most so far!"
"Two are YY, Master."
"Shut up!" Zim glared at his computer's speaker. "Whose side are you on?"
"What does that have to do with—"
"Your master demands SILENCE!
"Fine..."
Sure, Zim could get others to shut up, but he wouldn't do so himself. Typical.
"So," Zim said. "Shall we go?"
"Go where?" Purple asked suspiciously.
"The theme park! Where else?" Zim started impatiently bouncing on the balls of his feet. "There's something I have to show you!"
"What?"
"Just trust me!"
A little voice in Purple's head warned him that he'd probably regret this. The rest of his brain told the little voice to shut up, they were on Earth to NOT be paranoid a while. "All right," he said. He'd trust Zim.
xxx
Perhaps Red had lost his vacation on Cheaphookeria in order to visit the Control Brains. That didn't mean he had to pass up the chance to dance with a Vortian all together.
Judgmentia: it could arguably be called the capital planet of the Irken Empire, for there was far more real governmental power on Judgmentia than there was on Irk. Less than thirty percent of the worlds in the Irken Empire had so much as a single Control Brain stationed on their surfaces; Foodcourtia and Devastis had six each, Irk had nine.
Judgmentia had sixty-three.
Not only did it have more Control Brains than any other world in the empire (more Brains than most worlds had combined) but it had the Control Brains: the three Brains that coordinated the activity of all the other Brains, the mechanical heart and mind of the vast Irken machine. Without these three Control Brains, the entire Irken Empire would fall into chaos.
Behind the Tallest (or perhaps even in front of the Tallest) the Control Brain Triumvirate was the strongest political entity in the empire. When the Tallest couldn't—or didn't want to—make a decision, the Control Brains would.
And where there's politics, there's political corruption.
Beneath the high walkways and skyways, in the narrow alleys between dark dingy buildings that only look beautiful above ten stories, hidden in the shadow of the Spike of Judgment, was the corruption. A thriving black market, where highly shameful and highly illegal transactions were made a thousand times a degree. All this going on almost walking distance from the Control Brains. The Irkens participating in the market were giddily amused by the irony; the aliens participating lived in perpetual terror.
Red was somewhere between the two. On the one hand, as the Tallest, he had legal immunity to do whatever he damn well pleased. On the other, as the Tallest, he had the most to lose should anyone discover who he was and what he was doing. So he switched out his armored uniform for some baggy alien clothes, slouched as much as he could, and headed into the Judgmentia slums to look for Vortian Dancers.
As long as he could pass himself off as a really tall Irken but not the Tallest, no one got a good look at his face, and no one noticed his missing thumbs, he could get a dance and get out and no one would be the wiser. As he walked, he tugged the sleeves of the alien outfit down as far as they could go, and flattened his antennae against his head so he could flip his hood up. Hopefully that would be enough to keep from catching anyone's attention.
At least his clothes didn't stand out; a lot of the beings around him, both Irkens and aliens, consumers and suppliers, hid their identities beneath hoods, hats, masks, and scarves. He couldn't do much about his height, though. Oh well. He stuck to the walls and kept bent over, that was the best he could do.
As always, Red was shocked by all the things he saw being bought and sold in the filthy shadows of his empire. Contraband foods, illegal weapons and vehicles, forged tickets for aliens wanting passage to other planets—occasionally even a suicidal, threatening to shoot himself in front of everyone around unless he could collect a thousand monies within the next quarter-degree. Whenever Red saw one of those types, he invariably deposited a thousand himself, just to spare himself from the slightest chance of having to witness such a perverse display. But he couldn't do anything about these flagrant violations of Irken law without exposing that he, the Tallest, was wandering the black market himself.
Of course, what he was looking for was technically legal—but that didn't change the fact that the vast, vast majority of the Irken Empire considered it revolting.
Sometimes, while wandering the streets like that, looking for a Vortian who was willing to be bought so that Red could do his business and get out, he couldn't help but look at all the crime and corruption and wonder what kind of a horribly useless Tallest he was.
It was taking Red longer than he'd expected to find any Vortians. Or, for that matter, any Dancers at all. He'd thought that in the black market it would be almost impossible to not see the blue uniforms of Dancers, some Irken but most alien. He was sure he'd run into some eventually. At least he hadn't been stopped by anyone yet...
"Yessir, Drones and Advisors alike!" a fairly short, red-eyed Irken shouted into the crowds. "Cheap exoskeletal extensions, right here! Prices starting at a mere five hundred monies and then going a hundred monies a unit! For as low as two thousand monies you could be as tall as... as..." She looked around wildly, then pointed at Red. "As THAT guy!"
Red froze in horror as the Irkens and aliens surrounding him stopped and stared. But no one got a good enough look at his face to recognize him, and slowly they moved on.
"Yes indeed, two thousand monies!" the illegal exoskeletal extender shouted (undoubtedly lying through her teeth about the price). "It's virtually painless, and once it's done the only one who'll be able to tell your old height will be the Control Brains themselves! Fifty, one hundred, a hundred-fifty unit extensions, for the cheapest prices in the empire! If you decide you want one later, ask around for Extender Spine!"
Spine was probably her black market alias. Red made a mental note to put "Spine" on the grand list of Irkens To Be Hunted Down, Arrested, And Executed Painfully. But this wasn't getting him any closer to finding a Vortian. He walked past the extender, avoiding eye contact and hoping she didn't try to draw attention to him again.
"And that's not all, folks!" Spine said. "Extensions aren't just for the negative units anymore! Everybody's getting them. In fact, there are some very reliable sources in Foodcourtia that claim Almighty Tallest Purple himself hired an extender. No lie! And within the past tenth-year, no less..."
Red stopped, slowly turned, and stared at the extender in shock. No way, Purple wouldn't... would he? It had to be a lie... wasn't it? But Spine didn't have the winning smile of a con artist trying to sucker in some poor, naive victims. She wore the malicious smirk of someone who'd just had the pleasure of sharing some awful revelation with an unwitting audience. "That's right. Even the Tallest Purple himself has—"
"What do you know about Pur?"
Spine looked up at Red, baffled. "Huhwha?"
"What have you heard about Purple?!" Red snarled, leaning over Spine, eyes narrowed. "Tell me!"
"Why should—who are—" Spine blinked. "You—m-my Tal... I, er, I didn't mean what I said about making someone as tall as... uh... oh, shoot me." Her Pak-legs darted out, and she tore off through the crowd.
"Hey!" Red sprinted after her, actually leaping over several shorter beings just to keep moving fast enough. "Get back here!"
Purple with an exoskeleton Extender. Why would he need one?! He was already a Tallest, wasn't he? Unless he wanted to be Tallest by himself.
But no, it couldn't be that. All these trips off the Massive, they couldn't be for that. Why would he want to overthrow Red? And hells, if he did, he could have the empire! Red himself would help Purple do that! It wasn't like Red was doing any good as a Tallest—
Red tripped over someone about knee-height and fell flat on his face. He looked up quickly, scanning the crowd for Spine—shoot! He'd lost her.
He twisted his head around angrily to see whom he'd tripped over. "Hey, shorty! Watch where you're... you... uh..."
He'd tripped over a Vortian. Not only that, but a Vortian in nothing but a long blue overshirt. (And presumably underwear, because Vortians typically wore that stuff.) Dancer. Totally a Dancer. And a very pretty Dancer. Really pretty. Voids, she was pretty.
True, Red thought all Vortians were pretty. But that was irrelevant.
"Oh, shit, I'm so sorry." Red quickly got up on one knee and offered the Vortian a hand. Frowning, she accepted it, pulling herself upright. Red suppressed a shiver; he wasn't wearing gloves, she wasn't wearing gloves, and it'd been quite a while since he'd touched a Vortian. "I'm really, really sorry, really, that was dumb, I should've been on Pak-legs or something."
"Yeah, you shoulda," the Vortian muttered. She gave Red a weird look. "You... cuss like a Vortian. You know that, right?"
"I what? What are you—oh. Crap." Irkens didn't use the word "shit" very often. Or "crap," for that matter. Red usually found himself slipping into Vortian slang when he was around them. "I guess I do, huh."
He looked again for any sign of Spine. She was long gone. Red could try to follow her—probably should, in fact, if he wanted to find out about Purple. But... there was a Vortian, right here. And Red wasn't stupid.
"So," Red said casually. "I see you're a Dancer?"
"Huh? Oh." A weary expression crossed the Vortian's face. "And Da Pimp even gave me today off..." She sighed and laced her hands behind her back. "Yep, that's me. Hired Dancer Rigma Role. Starting rate is five hundred monies for twenty degrees, though I don't know what the piss you could need that much time for..."
"Five thousand monies."
"Er... what?" Rigma Role gave Red an incredulous stare. "You serious? Do you... have any freaky fetishes or something that I'm gonna need to know about?"
"Excuse me?" Red gave Rigma Role an equally disbelieving look. "I'm already a... y'know."
"A vortsucker?" Rigma Role suggested.
Red winced. "A xenophile."
"Same difference." She shrugged. "Offer of five grand accepted. Follow me." She turned and headed into the crowds, swerving to avoid running into Irkens who didn't bother trying to avoid her. Red walked a little closer behind her; at least the crowds parted for him.
"Five thousand..." Rigma Role turned around and grinned up at Red, showing two rows of viciously pointy teeth. "How would you like to consider setting up a schedule?"
Bad idea, Red's anti-xenophilia common sense whispered. But his pro-xenophilia common sense (which Red liked a lot more anyway) reminded him that Purple was apparently going crazy, that Red was desperate enough to visit the Control Brains about the issue, and that if this didn't clear up soon he'd need some way to keep all this craziness from dragging him under.
"A schedule, huh? How do you feel about making visits to the Massive...?"
xxxxx