A/N: And here's the next chapter, much sooner than the last one, as promised, even if not as soon as I'd hoped. Partially, that's because I had already visualized large chunks of it in my head long before actually writing it; this is a chapter I've been looking forward to for quite some time, both because of the world-building it provides and because it sets the stage for some later developments I'm looking forward to even more.
Before we get into it, however, I'd like to extend special thanks to my good friend SaintHeartwing, who gave me permission to use several of his OCs in this story (in addition to the previously used Senior), which I'm going to start doing here.
That said, read on!
Last time, on The New Adventures of Invader Zim: Arnold Quis, the disgruntled Swollen Eyeball Network agent known as Spider Monkey, was revealed to be a sociopath gripped with envy of Dib's superior paranormal experiences. Determined to ruin Dib's life, Quis arranged for Team Save Earth to investigate a fake haunted house he set up, in the hopes of setting them up for fraud and getting them kicked out of the SEN. Instead, due to the unknowing intervention in the form of a monstrous clown sent after Dib by Zim, the house's fraudulent nature, and Quis' connection to it, was exposed, leading to Quis being the one kicked out of the SEN. Deluding himself into believing this was the oblivious Dib's fault, Quis swore revenge.
But that will have to wait. For now, let's shift our focus to elsewhere in the galaxy, as tensions in the Irken Empire continue to rise.
Disclaimer: I don't own any canonical Invader Zim characters. Nor do I own most of the OCs in this chapter, who belong instead to SaintHeartwing.
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The New Adventures of Invader Zim
Season 2
Episode 6: Infernal Inspection
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The Irken Armada had returned to Irk itself for resupplying and crew rotation. After all, even mighty Irken soldiers required breaks from the tedium of long-term deployment in space, so except for those in key positions, most soldiers and other crew members would periodically be shipped off in shifts for shore leave or other assignments, while fresh troops would then be assigned to replace them. And of course, this had to happen in even larger numbers for the huge crew of the Massive, which was the crown jewel of job assignments.
At the moment, the Massive was docked to one of the artificial rings orbiting Irk, shuttlecraft and teleportation beams moving between the docking port and the planet's surface, as outgoing crew members left and new ones came in with the fresh supplies. On the bridge, the Tallest floated by the main viewscreen, watching this all going on. Well, Red was; Purple was more interested in the soda he was drinking.
"I'm bored. When are we going to finish here so we can go back to blowing stuff up?" Purple asked, Red rolling his eyes at the question.
"You know this takes all day, so stop whining about it," he said, "Can't you just stop and appreciate the beauty of how well organized all this is?"
"No, cause unlike you I know how to have fun, and this isn't it," Purple replied, "C'mon, you didn't used to be this uptight. You used to be all about shooting lasers, now you just want to go over checklists and stuff."
"Hey, I still shoot lasers at stuff!" Red protested, "Remember how I used all those Service Drones as target practice last week? I just happen to take our responsibilities seriously!"
"But only when it doesn't involve doing paperwork, funnily enough," Senior commented from his console.
"Nobody asked you!" Red snapped at him, before turning back to his argument with Purple.
"You know, one of these days, they're going to chuck you out the airlock if you keep snarking at them like that," the yellow-eyed Communications Officer at the console next to Senior commented, keeping her voice down so as not to be overheard by the Tallest.
"Nah, it'll be fine, Xeil," Senior commented, waving a hand dismissively, "I've known these two a long time, I know how far I can push their buttons before it becomes dangerous."
Anything Xeil was going to say in response to that was cut off as a beep sounded from her console. Looking down at the alert flashing on the screen, her eyes widened, and she gestured for Senior to look at it. Looking to the screen, Senior's own eyes also widened as he saw the displayed message.
"Uh, my Tallest?" he called out, "We just received a message from the surface. The Control Brains are requesting an immediate audience with you."
Purple spat out a mouthful of soda, spraying it all over the viewscreen, while Red snapped around to stare at Senior in surprise and quite a bit of worry. Everyone knew that when the Control Brains "requested" things, it was really an order, and that they didn't call meetings out of the blue for no reason.
"What did you do?!" Red snapped at his co-ruler.
"What? Why are you assuming this is my fault?" Purple asked, scowling at his partner.
"Because I know I didn't do anything to anger the Brains!" Red said, before rubbing his eyes and taking a calming breath, "Okay, look, arguing about this is pointless, so let's just head down there and find out what's going on."
"Fine," Purple said, petulantly tossing his soda over his shoulder and letting what was left in it splatter against what had been sprayed over the screen. Red frowned at the mess, but didn't comment on it as Purple started to hover out of the room.
"Someone call down to have a shuttle ready to take us to the surface," he ordered, before pointing at a pair of nearby Table-Headed Service Drones, "And you two! Clean up this mess!"
The drones bowed in deference, not daring to raise their heads again until they heard the bridge doors shut behind the Tallest. Then they straightened up and made their way over to the viewscreen, one of them openly scowling as they did so.
"Why should we clean this up?" he muttered, "We're Service Drones, not janitors!"
"Don't complain, Bob," his purple-eyed companion said, "You know it won't change anything. Best to just keep your head down and follow orders. Or do you want to get shot into another sun?"
"Urgh, don't even joke about that, Maht," Bob replied with a shudder, "I swear I only survived that because Zim's ability to survive anything rubbed off on me by proximity. But still, doesn't it ever bother you that we have to do all the dirty work, even the stuff that's not officially our duties, just because the Tallest feel like it?"
"Yeah, but what are you gonna do? That's just how things are," Maht shrugged, "All we can do is our best to do our role in the Empire, and keep everything running smoothly and everyone happy."
"Hmmph, you're a rug, you know that?" Bob asked as they reached the screen, "Your whole life philosophy is to let everyone walk all over you."
"Maybe, but at least I'm a helpful rug!" Maht said with a laugh, grabbing some napkins off his table and getting to work using them to soak up the spilled soda. Bob made a noncommittal grunt in response, as he set about helping scrub the screen as best he could.
But his scowl didn't fade any as he scrubbed.
Tallest Tower, Apex City, Shortly After
In the exact center of Irk's largest continent, Zenith, lay the Irkens' capital city, Apex. And at the exact center of this sprawling megapolis loomed the 1000-mile-high Tallest Tower, the home of the Almighty Tallest when on Irk. And it was to here that Red and Purple now returned, their shuttle setting down on the roof, disgorging the pair and their small honor guard, who then made their towards a nearby elevator.
Several minutes later, the elevator completed its descent, depositing the Tallest in the heavily-defended heart of the tower. Emerging into a hallway lined with defense turrets and mech soldiers, which quickly scanned the Tallest and stood down to let them pass, Red waved at the guards to stay back by the elevator. Not bothering to look at them to see if they'd acknowledged the order, he and Purple advanced, passing the defenses and through the blast doors at the end of the hall into the chamber beyond.
The room was roughly the size of a small amphitheater, though its exact dimensions were hard to tell, as most of it was darkened, with only a spotlight shining on the center of the room providing any lighting. Though that said, the numerous red eyes of the Control Brains shined in the darkness, highlighting their outlines where they were lined along the walls, looking down on the chamber.
These were not like the predictive models that mapped out the fates of smeets in the Academy, or the bureaucratic models that ran military worlds like Devastis, or the (now irrevocably insane) judicial models of Judgementia. These were the administrative models, the true rulers and collective nerve center of the Irken Empire, the power behind the throne. As such, they were the only entities to whom even the Tallest bowed, and thus Red and Purple came to a stop in the spotlight before them with some trepidation.
"We've come as instructed," Red announced, speaking for both of them, "How may we serve the Empire?"
"Welcome, Tallest Red and Purple," the centermost Control Brain responded, as several holo-screens popped to life, all displaying images of a familiar masked figure, "You are here regarding concerns that we have regarding the renegade codenamed 'Miz'."
"Is that all?" Purple asked, sounding relieved, "I thought this was something serious."
"This is serious," a Control Brain on the left spoke up, "This Defective has been spreading treasonous slander against the Empire's very structure for months, inspiring rebellious acts by others."
"A handful of riots and minor crimes scattered across the Outer Territories," Red said with a shrug, "Nothing to get too concerned with."
"We disagree," a third Control Brain, this one on the far right, commented, "Especially in light of recent facts that have come to our attention. Chief Consular Darth, step forward."
The Tallest stiffened at that command, watching as a figure stepped into the light, having previously been hiding in the shadows. Which was an impressive act in itself, given that he was an above-average height figure wearing the bright white robes of a Consular. A color that was matched by his eyes, which seemed to drill right into the Tallest despite the fact that they couldn't actually see anything.
This was Darth, the leader of the Consulars. An error in his genetic coding when he'd been in the birthing tube had not only left him totally blind, but had also caused his body to reject all attempts at implanting replacements. The only reason he hadn't been terminated as a smeet was because Tallest Miyuki had taken sympathy on him and had him spared; this was an investment that had paid off, when it was discovered that Darth's mutations had also caused him to develop powerful psychic abilities. Like all Irkens with these relatively rare gifts, he'd been recruited into the Consulars, his skills and efficiency quickly advancing him through the ranks. Now he was arguably the most powerful Irken in the Empire next to the Tallest themselves, and being in his presence frankly creeped them both out.
"My Tallest," Darth greeted, hands clasped at his waist as he gave a respectful bow, "A pleasure to see you again."
"Yeah, you too," Red said, gritting his teeth slightly.
"Makes the same stupid joke every time," Purple muttered, shuddering slightly as Darth's blank eyes seemed to sweep over him.
"Chief Consular, share with the Tallest the report you gave us earlier," the center Control Brain ordered.
"Of course," Darth said. Waving a hand, he caused the holo-screens to change, now depicting footage of riots on several planets by Irkens in Miz costumes.
"Since practically the beginning of Miz's broadcasts, acts of defiance and rebellion by members of the lower ranks have sprung up across the Empire," he explained, as the screens changed to show several Irkens confined to cells, "My agents have apprehended several leaders among this growing movement and interrogated them, and the intelligence they've gathered has painted a rather disturbing picture."
"Disturbing how?" Purple asked, still not seeing what the big deal was.
"This movement is growing more organized," Darth explained, "These dissenters are coming together in cells, which are communicating with each other through the Dark Irk-Net."
"Why do we even still let that thing exist?" Red grumbled.
"The Dark Irk-Net is maintained on independently operated servers outside of our control network, and run by specialized heavily-encrypted software," one of the Control Brains stated, "As such, it is impossible to monitor more that a small portion of it at any time."
"Thankfully, the information recovered by our interrogations have helped crack down somewhat on this activity," Darth continued, "However, this has also led to the rather alarming discovery that these cells are popping up throughout the Empire, not just in the Outer Territories. Most disturbing of all, it has been rumored that there are even Miz devotees among the Armada."
"That's ridiculous!" Red exclaimed, "The Armada is composed of our best soldiers outside of the Invaders! There's no way that the cream of the Empire's crop could fall for this Defective's nonsense!"
"Very few of the dissidents apprehended so far have been soldiers, my Tallest," Darth said, "Most have been technicians, engineers, service drones, and other low-ranked Irkens. And there are plenty of those maintaining the Armada. The chances of infiltration are not below the level of feasibility."
"An assessment with which we are in agreement," the center Control Brain announced, "As such, we have concluded that a contingent of Consulars personally led by Chief Darth will be assigned to the Massive for the foreseeable future. From there, they will investigate any sign of Miz insurgents onboard the ship itself or the rest of the Armada, and purge any that are found. You will provide all required aid in this matter."
"Don't we get any say in this?" Purple asked, even though he already knew the answer.
"No," the center Control Brain responded firmly, "Never forget, that while you may lead the Empire, we rule it. And we will not allow thousands of years of power and authority to be threatened by a Defective too cowardly to show his face stirring up unrest among those who refuse to know their place. You will aid Chief Darth in any and every way he requires for this investigation. Is that understood?"
"Perfectly," Red answered, before turning to look at Darth, "When should we expect you?"
"I already have a handpicked team ready to go, my Tallest," Darth replied, "I merely need to fetch them, and we can join you on the trip back to the Massive."
"Fine, meet us on the roof and we'll go," Red said. He and Purple bowed to the Control Brains, and then turned to exit the room. Psychically "watching" them leave, Darth waited until the doors shut behind them before turning back to the Control Brains.
"Their petulance and ego is likely to hinder my investigation, even if only unintentionally," he said, not bothering to even fake any respect for the Tallest now that they were absent.
"You will have our full authority in this matter," one of the Control Brains said, "If the Tallest impede you in any way, you will be able to override them."
"Just remember, whether you can take them alive or must kill them, do whatever is necessary to eliminate these traitors," the central Control Brain ordered, "We must purge this infection before it spreads too far, no matter what."
"By your command," Darth replied, bowing deeply before exiting the chamber as well.
The Massive, Shortly After
The Massive's hanger bays were bustling with activity as the resupply and crew rotation carried on, shuttles and other smaller craft lining up to carry away those crew members who were leaving, after depositing their replacements. Among those new arrivals were several regiments of soldiers, who had gathered before a temporarily-erected platform in the football stadium-sized primary hanger to be greeted by their new commanding officer.
"Alright, listen up maggots!" shouted the moderately-tall emerald-eyed female standing on the platform wearing a maroon uniform with a cape and hood, "My name is Commander Wiyn, chief security officer for the Massive. And now that you've been assigned here, your c'hortas belong to me! Is that understood?"
"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" the soldiers chorused.
"And this is my second-in-command, Lieutenant Mook," Wiyn continued, gesturing to the red-eyed male in body armor standing at attention at the foot of the platform, "Any orders from him should be treated as coming from me, just as any orders from me should be treated as coming directly from the Tallest. Is that understood?"
"Ma'am, yes ma'am!" the soldiers chorused again.
"Good, I'm glad we understand each other," Wiyn said, "Being assigned to the Massive and being allowed to be a part of the spearhead of our race's rightful conquest of the universe is a privilege. For whatever reason, you have all been decreed worthy of such an honor, so I suppose you must all be decently skilled. But just so we're clear, I run a tight ship, to ensure we all live up to the glory of the Empire. So if I think any of you are falling short of my standards, I will not hesitate to dropkick you into the nearest star!"
Wiyn paused to take a breath, but before she could keep ranting, her attention was diverted as what she recognized as the Tallest's personal shuttle swept back into the hanger and landed. Perking up, she hopped off the platform, smoothing out her uniform upon hitting the floor.
"I'll be right back, Mook. Keep everyone here in the meantime," she ordered.
"Yes, Commander!" Mook replied with a crisp salute.
Marching over towards the shuttle, which the Tallest and their honor guard were already disembarking, Wiyn was already preening as she prepared to meet her leaders and report on how expertly she was handling the rotation… only to freeze mid-step, eyes widening, as Darth and a dozen other Consulars stepped off of the shuttle after them.
Everyone else in the hanger likewise froze and stared in shock as they noticed the new arrivals. Consulars had never come aboard the Massive before, and beyond that it was simply rare to see them in such large numbers, usually being lone agents. As such, seeing so many them here and now was disconcerting, to say the least.
After a few moments, however, Wiyn regained her composure. Forcing a calm look onto her face, she continued marching until she was standing in front of the Tallest, snapping a fist to her chest in salute and bowing her head.
"Welcome back, my Tallest," she greeted, "The resupply is well underway, and I was just overseeing the induction of the newest additions to the ship's military contingent."
"Excellent work, Commander," Red complimented offhandedly, clearly not really paying attention. Wiyn frowned at that, but cleared her throat and continued on.
"And may I ask why… they are here?" she asked, scowling at the Consulars.
"We're here to seek out and apprehend any followers of Miz hidden here among the Armada," Darth answered.
"That masked Defective from those transmissions?" Wiyn asked, incredulous, "That's ridiculous, I run the tightest security in the Empire outside of Tallest Tower! There's no way anyone here could be buying into that treason without me knowing about it."
"I'm glad to hear you say so, Commander," Darth replied with a slight smirk, "As your security forces will of course be our logical first choice to investigate."
"WHAT?!" Wiyn exclaimed, eyes bugging out, "How dare you, you blind freak?! I ought to-!"
"That's enough!" Red snapped, "Remember, Commander, that the Chief Consular outranks you. You will show him all due respect and obedience."
Wiyn grit her teeth, both at the reprimand and being reminded that a being she saw as beneath her was actually her superior. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she swallowed her pride and bowed her head as slightly as possible towards Darth.
"My apologies, Chief Consular," she forced herself to say, "I simply take great pride in my work."
"No offense taken, Commander. Your passion and dedication do you credit," Darth replied so calmly that Wiyn was sure he was mocking her, "And to be fair, we'll begin with the new additions before moving on to the more long-term members of the security force."
Not trusting herself to say anything else, Wiyn merely nodded, before turning on her heel and marching over to the waiting troops. The Tallest watched her go, before turning to look at Darth and the other Consulars.
"Well, she wasn't happy," Purple commented dryly, "Good luck with all that."
"I take it you can handle organizing and carrying out all the interrogations on your own?" Red asked.
"Of course, my Tallest, no need to trouble yourself. I'll let you know if I require anything," Darth replied, bowing his head slightly. The Tallest nodded and hovered off without another look, while Darth gestured to his Consulars, who began walking with him after Wiyn.
And all the while, word of their arrival was already spreading like wildfire, as those present in the hanger began contacting others aboard the ship.
Lower Levels of the Massive, Some Time Later
Everyone knew and accepted that the Massive was the size of a small planet. However, what people often overlooked about this was the simple fact that a ship of such size had vast areas that were rarely if ever used, entire sections that only existed to add space or provide room for redundant systems equipment to run through, and therefore didn't require a regular crew presence. Which just meant these levels were the perfect place to hide aboard the ship.
This last thought was the one currently occupying the mind of Table-Headed Service Drone Bob as he made his way down a corridor on one of these levels. Walking at a brisk pace, he shot nervous glances up and down the hallway, which was only partially lit due to the number of failed light fixtures that had never been fixed, due to years of neglect. As expected, there was no one in sight, but he could never be too careful.
Finally, he reached a particular door, indistinguishable from every other on the level except for a small bit of graffiti on the bottom corner: stylized Irken symbols for N, I, and O, forming a rough triangle. Approaching this door, Bob glanced around one last time, and then reached out to deliver two swift knocks to the door, paused for a few seconds, and then knocked three more times just as swiftly. In response, a small hatch in the center of the door opened, revealing a pair of dark red eyes, which looked at Bob inquisitively for a moment before withdrawing, after which the hatch shut and the door opened.
Stepping through the doorway, Bob looked around to take in the room as the door was shut behind him by the bulky male operating it. It was a relatively large storage closet, which had been repurposed into a small lounge; several large crates were being used as tables, with rickety and battered stools surrounding each. And seated at those stools were a few dozen Irkens of various castes, mostly Service Drones and janitors, but also engineers, technicians, scientists, and even a few soldiers.
"Is everyone here, Garuk?" Bob asked the doorman, glancing over his shoulder as he spoke.
"Yes sir, you're the last to arrive," Garuk nodded as he secured the door.
"Okay then," Bob said, walking over to the centermost makeshift table and hopping up to stand atop an empty stool, "I hereby call this meeting to order."
"Why in the six hells of Vort are there Consulars onboard?!" a technician exclaimed, several others voicing similar concerns, at a similar volume. It took a few minutes for Bob to calm down the resulting noise.
"Look, I'm just as worried as you all are, but we need to keep our heads here!" Bob shouted over the din, which died down as the crowd started listening to him, "Now, as far as I can tell from what I've heard, the Consulars are only here investigating rumors of NIO activity aboard the Massive. They don't actually know what we're up to."
"They're psychic! How hard will it be for them to find something?" a janitor called out.
"Yes, they're psychic, but they're not perfect!" Bob countered, "First of all, they need physical contact to actually read minds with any clarity, so if you can avoid that you'll be fine. Also, I hear that if you can focus your thoughts really hard on singular thoughts unrelated to what you're trying to keep secret, they can't get past that, so that's a technique that might work. And besides all of that, we're all low-rank, they don't see us as a threat."
"Hey, not all of us are maintenance and service," a solider pointed out, "Some of us are actually in the security section, and according to Commander Wiyn they're going to be interrogating the rest of us once they're done with the new arrivals. And even if they somehow don't catch us, they're going to interrogate everyone aboard, which means sooner or later one of us is gonna get caught, and then we're all screwed!"
"That is not going to happen, not as long as we stay calm and united," Bob proclaimed, only to be barraged with shouts.
"Stop telling us to be calm!"
"Yeah, we should be doing something!"
"Why'd we even make you cell leader? You don't do anything!"
"Really? Really?!" Bob snapped, the fury in his voice immediately silencing the crowd, "You're all questioning my commitment to the cause? Me? The guy the Tallest shot into a sun so they wouldn't have to pay up on a bet they forced me into in the first place? And then, to add insult to injury, when I barely survive that and manage to get back to the Massive, they act like the whole thing never happened! Like it meant nothing to them!"
By now, Bob was full-on ranting. The others watched, transfixed, as he hopped from his stool to land atop a crate and start pacing, gesturing wildly with his arms as he went.
"I always knew that those of us who are short, or low-ranked, or both, were treated like caragash, but I always just accepted that that was the way things were supposed to be," Bob said, "Then I heard Miz's broadcasts, and he opened my eyes. Why should we bow down to those who just happen to be taller than us? Why should they get to laze on top, doing whatever they feel like, when those of us who do the actual hard work are stuck licking their boots? I realized then, we keep this Empire functioning for the Invaders and the Tallest, we should have a fair say in how things are done! So don't ever question whether or not I'm dedicated to our mission!"
Finally finishing, Bob came to a stop, panting for breath. The crowd, meanwhile, shifted awkwardly for a few moments in the face of his impassioned speech, before someone finally chose to speak up.
"So, what are we going to do?" an engineer asked. This snapped Bob out of his post-rant daze; he shook himself off and composed himself, before answering.
"What we're doing here is too important for the cause as a whole," he said, "We can't let our work be compromised. So, for the time being that means trying to protect our thoughts, but as a longer term plan… well, accidents happen all the time, don't they?"
"What, you're suggesting we kill the Consulars?" someone asked, "How are we supposed to do that?"
"I have a idea, but it's going to be a bit tricky to pull off," Bob said, "So everyone listen carefully…"
Massive Cafeteria, Same Time
As to be expected from both the size of the Massive's crew and the Irken race's love for stuffing their faces, the cafeteria took up an entire level of the ship. There was a central food court that was nearly the same size as the primary hanger bay, with a series of smaller lounges and rec rooms taking up the rest of the space. In one of these rooms, Senior was seated at a mid-sized table, joined by a number of other Irkens, of various heights and ranks.
"I call this meeting of the Alien Cultural Appreciation Club to order," Senior said, looking around the table, "So, anyone got anything new?"
While several of the others made sounds of affirmation and started shuffling through their PAKs to pull out various objects, Senior took a moment to swell in pride at this little gathering. It had all started several months ago, during a stopover at a refueling system, when he had visited a local black market to discreetly pick up some books smuggled from Earth that he had previously ordered, and bumped into several other crew members also visiting the market. As it turned out, there were quite a few Irkens aboard the Massive who had taken an interest in human culture as word of Zim's exploits spread, and who had started paying smugglers to bring them things from Earth.
Knowing that there were others who shared his interests, Senior had quietly reached out to organize them. After all, technically, trading in and possessing cultural artifacts of lesser races was forbidden, but it wasn't a rule that was strictly enforced. Hell, the Tallest themselves liked to partake in Earth-made snacks and video games; if it hadn't meant being anywhere close to Zim, they probably would have invaded the planet a long time ago just for those. As it was, they just let the smugglers bring things to them and looked the other way regarding others doing the same, leaving just enough legal wriggle room for Senior's club to operate openly, much to the annoyance of certain more xenophobic officers…
Realizing he'd let his thoughts wander, Senior shook his head and turned back to the table, where the other club members had pulled out their various bits of paraphernalia. Looking it all over, he nodded in approval before gesturing to a green-eyed male with the modified PAK of a medic.
"Jayd, you go first. What have you got?" Senior asked. In response, the medic slid a stack of slightly-weathered comic books across the tabletop so everyone else could see them better.
"Well, it cost a bit more than I would have liked, but my contacts were able to track down all those Silver Age issues of Green Lantern missing from my collection," Jayd said, smiling proudly.
"Lame," commented a red-eyed female in the red-and-black uniform of an Elite Soldier, earning an annoyed glare from Jayd.
"Shove off, Dite, I know you like comics too," he said defensively.
"Yeah, but not those happy-sappy 'good guy wins with barely any effort' plots," Dite replied, "I prefer Watchmen or Punisher or other anti-hero stuff. Give me dark and gritty over camp any day."
"Yet you didn't like Dawn of Justice when we got a copy of it," Xeil pointed out as she sipped a soda.
"…I said dark and gritty, not nonsensical bloody messes," Dite said, grimacing in disgust.
"Well excuse me for liking a little hope and brightness," Jayd sniffed back, before turning to look at Senior, "What about you, Boss?"
"Honestly, I'll always lean towards more optimistic stories… but every now and then I need to watch some mindless violence just to let off some steam," Senior admitted reluctantly, causing Dite to smirk gloatingly; seeking to prevent a fight, he then continued, "And on that note, here's my latest buy."
Reaching into his PAK, Senior pulled out a lacquered wooden box, and flipped it open. Everyone else at the table blinked in confusion at the sight of a pair of revolvers, well-maintained and recently polished from the look of them.
"Ooh, shiny!" an orange-eyed female wearing Guard armor said, grinning widely as she reached for the guns, only for Senior to lightly slap her hand away.
"Uh-uh, Peech, you know the rules," Senior reprimanded her, "When it comes to other people's stuff, look don't touch."
"I can't help it! I see shiny things, and I need to have them," Peech protested, "Why do you think I have so many bottle caps and coins crammed into my PAK storage?"
"Cough-klepto-cough!" Xeil fake coughed into her fist, earning a mild glare from Peech and laughs from everyone else.
"I'm just surprised to see you with guns," Maht commented from his own spot at the table, "I thought you were a pacifist?"
"I don't like using guns, but I can still admire them aesthetically," Senior replied, "And also- ah, caragash."
Surprised by Senior's sudden shift to resigned cursing, the others turned to follow his gaze, and they all quietly groaned as they saw Wiyn stomping into the room. She didn't appear to have noticed them, instead making her way towards a soda machine against the far wall.
"Well, there goes the good mood," Peech muttered.
"Nobody move, and maybe she won't notice us," Jayd said hopefully. Unfortunately, that hope was almost immediately dashed as Wiyn happened to glance over and notice them. The glare already present on her face deepened, and after taking a chug of her soda, she marched over to stand next to their table.
"Well, if it isn't the Contraband Club," she said dryly, "I almost have to admire the nerve you have to flaunt this illegal garbage in the open like this."
"Strictly speaking, this so-called contraband is frowned upon, not illegal," Senior said with a shrug, "And don't let the size of this club's active membership fool you, Wiyn — if you arrested everyone onboard the Massive who liked collecting alien memorabilia, you'd be arresting probably a quarter of the crew. The Tallest included."
"Don't rub it in," Wiyn growled, "And that's Commander Wiyn to you."
"You do realize that by comparative rank positions, you and I are equal, right?" Senior asked, arching an antenna, "So technically, I don't have to be as formal with you."
"She doesn't care," Peech cut in before Wiyn could say anything, "She just likes the ego boost that comes from hearing her title and getting reminded how high-ranked she is."
Wiyn turned to face Peech, the others awkwardly shifting in their chairs at the intensity of the glares the two were giving each other.
"Smart remarks like that are the reason I demoted you from my personal squad to door guard," Wiyn remarked with a sneer.
"Really? I thought it was because I didn't kiss your c'horta as well as Mook does," Peech replied, earning a few chuckles from the others, which died down quickly as Wiyn turned her glare on them. Seeing that this situation was risking blowing out of proportion, Senior stepped back in to retake control.
"Look, Wiyn, the point is, we're not outright breaking any rules," he said firmly, "So why don't you just let us get back to enjoying our breaks, and you can go bother someone else?"
"I think he makes a fine point, Commander," a familiar voice suddenly spoke up, causing Wiyn to jump. Turning, she found Darth standing behind her, arms crossed and a slight frown on his face.
"When'd you get here?" she asked, blinking in confusion.
"A few moments ago, while you were needlessly badgering this group," he replied, before turning to nod at Senior, "Hello Nick."
"Darth. It's been a while," Senior said with an amused grin, "Which also means it's been a while since anyone used my actual name, now that I think about it. Pretty sure you're the only one who still does."
"You two know each other?" Dite asked, looking between them in surprise.
"Yeah, we go way back," Senior said with a shrug, as if him personally knowing the head of the Empire's secret police was no big deal.
"What do you mean, 'needlessly badgering' them?" Wiyn asked, ignoring the others' byplay, "I'd think you of all people wouldn't tolerate Irkens wasting their time on filthy pieces of skaatel cultures."
"Why? My job is to preserve the Empire's stability and order. As long as it doesn't lead towards treason, I see no harm in Irkens indulging their curiosity about other species," Darth stated.
"But it's a pointless distraction from dedicating ourselves to our proper place in the Empire!" Wiyn protested, "And what's so interesting about other cultures? Irken culture is the pinnacle of perfection!"
"Perfection? Heh, that reminds me of something I heard once," Darth mused, "Striving for perfection leads to constant improvement. But the belief that you're already perfect leads only to stagnation."
"Oh please. Where you'd hear that idiotic nonsense?" Wiyn asked with a scowl.
"From Tallest Miyuki, actually. It was one of her favorite sayings," Darth replied smugly, as Wiyn's eyes widened and she paled slightly. After all, one doesn't just insult the memory of a past Tallest, least of all the most beloved one of all time; it was simply unacceptable.
"Er, well, okay. Carry on then," Wiyn stuttered, before quickly beating a hasty retreat towards the exit. The others watched her go, smirks and chuckles emerging amongst them in response to her rapid departure.
"You guys have no idea how satisfying that was for me," Peech commented happily.
"I dunno, I'm pretty sure we've all had to deal with her breathing down our necks at some point or another," Jayd said.
"Yeah, but none of you have ever had to serve directly under her and have to deal with her all day everyday," Peech replied, shuddering slightly at the memories, "She's a perfectionist freak. If any of us had so much as a scruff mark on our armor, she'd make us clean the toilets with a toothbrush!"
"Which toilets?" Xeil asked, morbidly curious.
"All of them!" Peech exclaimed, throwing her arms up in disgust, "Do you guys have any idea how many toilets there are on a ship this big?!"
"989,975," Maht answered offhandedly. When everyone else stared at him incredulously, he shrugged and said, "I used to be a janitor before I was re-encoded as a Table Head. Take my word for it."
"Okay…" Senior said after a moment of awkward silence, before shaking it off and turning back to Darth, "So, Darth, how's that investigation going along?"
"I suppose I should point out that I can't go into details on an active case… but truthfully, aside from some slight grumblings of the type common among members of the lower ranks, we haven't found anything remotely treasonous," Darth admitted with a shrug, "So far, there's looking to be no sign of actual Miz-related activity aboard this ship. But, it's still early — we've only just gotten started on the security forces, and there's still plenty of other crew members to get through after that."
Anything that anyone had to say in response to that was preempted as Maht's PAK started beeping. Pulling a communicator out of it and checking the message, he sighed, before shaking it off and plastering his usual cheerful demeanor back on.
"Sorry guys, I've got to go. Tallest Purple wants all the Table Heads in his quarters for something," he said. Putting his stuff back in his PAK and strapping his table back onto his head, he nodded at the others before waddling off.
"Yeah, we should probably all be getting back to work," Senior said, also getting up from the table, "Darth, I guess I'll see you around."
"I'm sure I'll be seeing all of you at some point," Darth said, glancing over the table before turning and walking out of the room.
"…That was creepy as hell," Dite spoke for everyone after Darth was gone, no one having been willing to leave until he was out of sight.
"I am not looking forward to whenever it's my turn for an interrogation," Peech commented, "I mean, I've got nothing to hide, but still."
Most of the others made sounds of agreement with that, though Senior still seemed unperturbed.
"If you guys haven't done anything wrong, you've got nothing to worry about. Just remember that," he said as he also exited. His apparently genuine confidence was rather reassuring, and the others were able to feel a little relieved as they all also went off back to their various duties, putting their worries about the Consulars behind them.
Upper Levels of the Massive, Short Time Later
Darth strode down the hallway, a lifetime of experience allowing him to move freely and without worry of bumping into anything, even as his mind wandered. Being back onboard this ship, which had been personally commissioned by the closest thing he as an Irken would ever have to a mother, stirred up a lot of memories, and a bit of melancholy. And the fact that he was here searching for those seeking to tear down all that Tallest Miyuki had helped build was fanning the flames of his carefully-controlled anger, which he was going to need to keep a handle on if he wanted to properly carry out this investigation.
He was pulled out of his musings as he heard footsteps nearby. Tensing very slightly for a moment, he relaxed as he sensed the familiar psychic presence of the person who was approaching.
"Feyr. I assume you have a report for me?" he asked, turning his unseeing gaze towards the pink-eyed male Irken in white Consular robes who had come up from another corridor to walk at his side.
"Yes sir. All the new additions to the security forces have been cleared of any connections to the rebels, and we've begun interrogations of the more established members," Feyr replied, "Some have been stubborn towards the necessity of our presence here, but they've been… persuaded, to do as they're told."
Darth couldn't help but roll his eyes at the melodramatic delivery of his lieutenant's comment. Feyr was one of his most skilled underlings, able to read thoughts from a distance with a clarity that was rather rare among their ranks. This made it easy for him to get into his targets' heads in both literal and figurative senses, allowing him to deduce the best way to get their cooperation, whether it be playing off their desires or making threats. As such, he had a reputation as both a silver-tongued manipulator and a vicious monster, both of which he reveled in.
"Good to know. The sooner we know that the Massive's security is completely in loyal hands, the sooner we can move our attention to other vital portions of the crew," Darth said with a nod. As the pair turned a corner, he sensed another familiar presence and bowed his head respectfully, "Greetings, my Tallest."
Red, who was floating down the hallway with his back to the Consulars and hadn't seen them coming, jumped in surprise. Turning to face them, he briefly looked startled, before his face shifted to annoyance.
"Don't do that," he snapped, before shaking it off and asking, "So, are we almost done with this ridiculous inspection yet?"
"Barely begun, my Tallest," Darth replied, "We're still working through the security forces, and haven't even gotten to the other crew sectors yet."
"Wait, you mean you haven't started interrogating the Service Drones yet?" Red asked, confused, "Then how come I haven't been able to get any service in my quarters? I was actually about to go down to the kitchens myself!"
"I believe I heard that Tallest Purple was calling all of them to attend to something for him," Darth replied.
"Is that right? Well, I guess I'd better go see what that idiot's up to now," Red muttered with a frown, floating off in the direction of Purple's room. Slightly curious themselves, Darth and Feyr followed after Red. Before long, they arrived at the door to Purple's quarters, which opened at Red's command. They then entered the room, only to come to a sudden stop; sensing Red and Feyr's confusion, Darth quickly formed a psychic link with the latter to see through his eyes, at which point he joined them in staring in surprise at the sight before them.
Purple floated off to one side, apparently supervising over the dozens of Table-Headed Service Drones who were scurrying around the room, running back and forth between food crates stacked against the walls and a swimming pool-sized bathtub in the middle of the room. The crates were full of bite-sized chip bags, which the drones were tearing open to dump the contents into the tub.
"…What the hell?" Red asked flatly, his voice catching Purple's attention.
"Hey Red, come check out this awesome idea I had!" he said excitedly, gesturing to the tub, "I'm going to bathe in chips!"
"Come again?" Red's voice was, if anything, somehow even more flat by this point, while the Consulars were left speechless by bafflement.
"Yeah, see, I was thinking about how annoying it is that you can't eat while bathing because the cleaning fluid and cleansing chalk gets all over the snacks and ruins them," Purple explained, oblivious to the looks he was getting, "So it occurred to me, why not just bathe in the snacks? Then you can eat what you're scrubbing yourself with!"
"And you need all these drones because…?" Feyr asked, still looking utterly confused.
"Bite-sized chips hold the flavor best, and I wasn't going to open all these bags by myself," Purple said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, before turning to Red, "So, what do you think?"
"Honestly?" Red replied with a scowl, finally allowing his annoyance at his partner's antics to show, "I think this is the stupidest idea you've had since that time you said we should only fly in straight lines!"
"Hey! That wasn't stupid, that was a way to prove we're unstoppable by literally not stopping for anything!" Purple countered, good mood evaporating.
"Oh yeah? Well, what if that straight line had taken us into a black hole or something?"
"We'd just blow it up!"
"Just blow up a black hole? Do you know anything about physics?"
"My Tallest," Darth spoke up, cutting off the argument before it could get too intense, "Forgive me for asking, but is it common to let the Service Drones have full access to your quarters like this?"
"Well, duh. How else are we supposed to get decent service?" Red asked.
"Ah. Well in that case, my Tallest, I think it would be prudent for me to interrogate and screen all these drones immediately," Darth stated, the Table Heads all freezing as they heard that.
"Why? They're just a bunch of shorty service drones; even if any of them had the guts to be traitors, it's not like they'd be any threat," Purple snorted in disbelief, kicking a drone in the back and sending him bouncing across the floor to punctuate the point.
"Be that as it may, my Tallest, it only makes logical sense to make sure that those who can come and go from your personal rooms are utterly loyal," Darth pressed.
"Oh please. Like Pur said, none of these tiny losers have the brains to betray us," Red said, as he grabbed an armful of the chip bags.
"Are you gonna take a chip bath too?" Purple asked him.
"What? No, I'm saving some of these to eat like a normal person before you waste them all," Red shot back, floating out of the room. Purple glared after him with a pout, before turning his attention back to the Consulars.
"Are you two still here? Get out!"
"My Tallest, I really think-" Feyr started to say, only for Purple to cut him off.
"I don't care! They're all too busy doing this for me to waste time with your stupid interrogations. Go look for your imaginary traitors somewhere else!" he snapped, pointing firmly at the door.
Feyr opened his mouth to try again, but at a psychic nudge from Darth, he shut it, instead joining his superior in bowing respectfully and exiting the room. Once they were in the hallway, he allowed a mild scowl to to twist his face.
"Are we really going to just let a blatant security breach go unattended just because it would be inconvenient for the Tallest to do so?" he asked, "I thought we had full discretion from the Control Brains to do whatever was necessary for this assignment."
"True, but we need to be smart about which fights we pick," Darth replied, "And I didn't feel like this one was worth it. Tell me, what did you sense among those service drones?"
"…Nothing overtly treasonous," Feyr responded after a moment of thought, "However, with that many minds jostling around in the same place, all of them quite anxious from our presence, it's hard even for me to shift through their individual thoughts from a distance. So I can't say for certain."
"So for now, we give them the benefit of the doubt," Darth said, "But as soon as we're done with the security forces, we screen every service drone, just to be sure."
Meanwhile, back in Purple's quarters, the subjects of this conversation continued to scurry about, carrying out the Tallest's absurd orders, while he greedily stood by and watched as the bathtub fill up with chips. But so focused was he on this, and the others on simply getting their job done, that none of them noticed as Bob took a brief detour on his way to grab more chip bags, stopping momentarily at a nearby desk, just briefly enough to grab a data pad and stuff it into his PAK. Once that was done, and he was sure that no one had seen anything, he quickly went back to work.
For several more hours, Bob went through the mind-numbing task of fulfilling Purple's ridiculous desire. When the tub was finally filled, the Tallest dismissed the Table Heads without so much as even a vague attempt at thanks, as per usual. Quickly filing out of the room with the others, Bob took off down a side corridor at a pace just short of what he thought might look suspicious, only stopping when he came across a vent on the lower portion of a wall. Looking around to make sure he was alone, Bob swiftly pried the vent's grate off, stuck the data pad inside, and then put the grate back in place. Beginning to walk away, he took out his PAK communicator and shot off a brief, innocuous-looking but actually coded message.
A short time later, a technician walked down the corridor, stopping at the vent and pulling off the grate. Grabbing the data pad, he replaced the grate and walked away, turning his attention to the pad itself. Seeing that it contained what Bob had said it did, he grinned in anticipation.
Now they could put their plan into action…
Secondary Docking Bay 53-A, A Few Hours Later
A large group of Irken soldiers were gathered in the docking bay, standing at attention in rows before the group of Consulars. One by one, they stepped forward, each allowing a Consular to place their hands on the sides of their heads. In each case, both the soldier and the Consular's eyes would then glow for a few minutes as the latter probed the former's minds, and then the Consular would step away and dismiss the woozy soldier, who would stumble away to sit down and rest.
Darth and Feyr stood on a platform in the middle of the room, overseeing the proceedings, while Wiyn leaned against a wall nearby, Mook standing at attention next to her. In contrast to the stoic professionalism presented by the Consulars and her own subordinate, the head of security looked utterly bored, the fact that she wanted to be anywhere but here blatantly obvious.
"Are we almost done here?" she asked, trying not to yawn, "I think it's pretty clear by now from the lack of results that my forces haven't been compromised."
"A portion of your soldiers being cleared doesn't mean that we should assume the others are all innocent as well, Commander," Darth said, while Feyr took notes on a data pad, "Really, you must learn to be more patient."
"Hmph," Wiyn grumbled angrily, before turning to her aide, "Mook, how many more of these do we have to go through?"
"We're almost halfway through this battalion, ma'am," Mook replied, checking a data pad of his own, "Which upon completion will put us halfway through the first division."
"That's all?" Wiyn groaned, rubbing her aching head.
"You could always leave if you have something else to do," Feyr commented, not looking up from his pad.
"I have plenty to do, but I'm not about to let you fre… people, interrogate my soldiers without me present," Wiyn shot back, barely biting back on the insult before she spat it out.
Darth opened his mouth to say something, only for a blaring alarm to suddenly ring out, catching everyone by surprise. Looking around, they saw that the warning lights on the bay doors were flashing. The doors themselves slowly ground open, and before anyone could ask why that was happening, the atmospheric forcefields covering the openings flickered momentarily before shutting off. Everyone only had a moment to widen their eyes in shock at this, before the vacuum of space kicked in and air started rushing out of the bay, carrying anything that wasn't nailed down.
Irkens screamed as they went flying, swept up in the decompression. Several went right out the doors, but those with quicker reflexes — including all the Consulars, Wiyn and Mook — managed to deploy their PAK legs to catch and brace themselves, while simultaneously activating emergency air bubbles around their heads. After only a few seconds, the last of the air was sucked out, leaving everyone standing there in a void, frozen in shock at what had just happened.
"What the hell was that?!" Wiyn shouted after a moment, breaking the stunned silence. In response, Mook snatched up a data pad from where it had landed on the floor and scrolled through it, trying to find the cause of this disaster.
"Commander, it seems someone sent an override command to the doors, bypassing all security redundancies to make sure the hanger fully vented," he reported.
"Who?" Wiyn snarled, looking around as if expecting the culprit to be ready to confess on the spot.
"All I sensed just now was panic," Feyr commented, as he and the other Consulars brushed their robes off, "I don't believe anyone here was directly involved."
"I believe he's right, ma'am," Mook said, "It looks like the system was accessed remotely, and… wait, something's happening. I think — flirk! Everyone watch out!"
Any confusion at that outburst was quickly wiped away by fresh panic as the robotic docking cranes lining the bay suddenly came to life and started swinging wildly. Everyone scattered as they proceeded to smash into the floor, seemingly at random. And then, as if that wasn't enough, they started grabbing docked ships, ripping them out of their spots, and tossing them through the air at the Irkens.
"They're targeting us," Darth said, as he and several others took cover behind the platform.
"Oh, are they? I hadn't noticed!" Wiyn snapped, sarcasm so thick a laser couldn't cut it.
"No, I mean us specifically. The Consulars," Darth clarified, gesturing at the rest of the bay. Arching an antenna at that, Wiyn carefully peeked out around the platform for a better look, and saw to her surprise that he was right. While it seemed like the cranes were swinging and throwing randomly, a closer look showed that they did seem to be specifically aiming for the Consulars over the regular soldiers.
"Huh, guess I'm not not the only one around here who doesn't like you," Wiyn laughed. Darth ignored her dark humor and turned to Mook.
"Can you counteract their access and block them out of the system?" he asked.
"I'm trying," Mook replied, tapping away frantically on his pad, "But whoever's doing this is embedded deep. I'll need to set up a firewall of my own code to force them out."
"Well try harder," Feyr said, watching as a group of his colleagues barely avoided being hit with a Spittle Runner.
"Almost… and got it! Firewall established!" Mook exclaimed, seconds before the cranes groaned to a halt. When this persisted for several minutes, everyone allowed themselves to breathe a sigh of relief and calm down. As they came out from hiding, they looked around to examine the results of the chaos, finding that there were now numerous dents and holes in the floor, and multiple ships had been damaged, but it didn't appear as if anyone had been hurt (not counting those who had been previously sucked out into space, of course).
"The Tallest are not going to be happy about this," Feyr commented, taking in the damage.
"Forget the Tallest, I'm not happy about this!" Wiyn shouted, "Someone just tried to kill me, and actually killed some of my soldiers in the process! Mook! Can you figure who did this and how?"
"I'm checking now, Commander. Fortunately, they didn't do a very good job covering their tracks," Mook replied, before stopping and staring at the pad in shock.
"What is it?" Darth asked, sensing Mook's confusion at whatever he had found.
"I… think you should all see this," Mook said, holding the pad out for the others to see. They walked over to look at it, Darth once again looking through Feyr's eyes to do so, and soon they were all likewise staring in disbelief.
"How…? We need to talk to the Tallest, right now," Darth said, actually sounding shaken.
"For once, I agree with you on something," Wiyn said, before turning to shout at her soldiers, "All of you back to barracks, now! And not a word about this to anyone!"
"The same for all of you," Darth added to the Consulars.
"Mook, repressurize this room so that we can get out of here," Wiyn commanded. Mook nodded in acknowledgement of the order and carried it out; a few minutes later, the room was full of air again, and the two senior-ranked Irkens and their lieutenants were able to safely exit into the hallway. The quartet then rapidly made their way to the bridge, not saying anything, too wrapped up in what had just transpired.
Before long, they reached the bridge doors, where Peech was standing guard, though she seemed to be more focused on examining some bottle caps, coins, and other assorted small shiny objects she was holding in one hand. Glancing up, she stiffened as she saw them approach; despite her evident confusion at seeing them all together, she quickly put away her collectables and snapped to attention. If she was confused by seeing the group all moving together with such determined looks on their faces, she didn't let it affect her, instead simply saluting and opening the door for them.
The group didn't even pause as they marched onto the bridge, though they did pause at the unusual sight that greeted them. Jayd was standing next to Purple's throne, directing hoses from his PAK in spraying clouds of glowing green medical nanogenes over the Tallest, who appeared to have a rash of some kind. Red, meanwhile, was reclining on his own throne, rolling his eyes at the display.
"My Tallest, I feel obligated to repeat that this is an extreme waste of materials needed to treat serious wounds," Jayd was saying, "I mean, your PAK should be able heal this on its own soon enough."
"That'll take too long! I'm itchy now!" Purple whined, earning a snort from Red.
"Gee, who'd have thought that scrubbing every inch of your body with greasy, salty snacks would be a bad thing?" he asked sarcastically, "Oh wait, I did!"
Purple looked like he was about to snap something at his co-ruler, but before he could, Darth cleared his throat, catching their attention.
"What is it?" Red asked, sounding utterly bored.
"Someone just tried to kill us," Wiyn said bluntly, instantly catching the attention of everyone in the room, who turned to stare at her in shock.
"Say what?" Purple asked, shoving Jayd aside, suddenly more interested in something other than his rash.
"Specifically, my Tallest, someone just tried to kill myself and the other Consulars," Darth explained, "We were carrying out interrogations on some of the Commander's troops, when someone depressurized the hanger we were in, before then attacking us with some of the equipment therein."
"And what's really shocking is that whoever did it used one of Tallest Purple's personal access codes!" Wiyn exclaimed, grabbing the data pad out of Mook's hands to display it. Everyone gasped at that, while Purple himself was wide-eyed and slack-jawed; snapping out of this after a moment, he snatched the pad out of Wiyn's grip to stare at it.
"I… buh… wha?" Purple sputtered, "I mean, yeah, that's my code, but I didn't use it! Why would I want to?!"
"We're not accusing you yourself, my Tallest," Darth said, holding up a placating hand, "But someone was clearly able to get ahold of your access codes. Tell me, do you leave any of your personal devices where someone else might be able to take them?"
"I dunno, maybe?" Purple replied with a shrug, "I have a ton of pads and consoles and stuff, I can't keep track of where I leave them all lying around."
"Are you kidding me?" Red asked in mild disgust, "Devices with your personal codes, able to access all systems onboard the Massive, and you just leave them lying around?"
"How was I supposed to know this could happen? People are supposed to be too loyal to try this kinda thing!"
"The point is, my Tallest, that this rather conclusively proves that there are traitors aboard this ship," Darth cut in before the conversation could run off on a tangent, "And we need to find them now, before they can cover their tracks, or stage another attempt on anyone else's lives."
"Hmm," Red muttered wordlessly, rubbing his chin in thought. Taking the pad from Purple, he examined the code closely for a moment, before turning to Senior's station.
"Think you can figure out where this came from?" he asked.
"Yes, my Tallest, I think so," Senior replied, taking the pad from Red and plugging it into the console. He, Xeil, and the others then began analyzing the code and backtracing it through the system, attempting to see where it had been entered from. A few minutes later, Senior smirked under his high collar as his screen lit up in positive colors.
"Got it!" he announced, fingers flying across the screen, "Sending a counter-signal to the origin device now, programmed to make it send out an alert on its location. It'll probably take some time to narrow down, but-"
PING
Everyone on the bridge froze as that sound rang out. As it did again, they all turned to face its source, finding a technician who had apparently been discreetly making his way towards the door, frozen in mid-step and with a beeping emanating from his PAK's storage area.
There was a long moment of silence as everyone stared at the wide-eyed technician, who stared back at them… before turning and bolting towards the door.
"Stop him!" Wiyn shouted, as the technician passed through the open door. Still at attention on the other side, Peech jumped in surprise at the shout and the technician trying to run past her. Then her training kicked in and she swung her blaster rifle around to try and shoot him, only for him to whip the stolen data pad out of his PAK and toss it through the air to hit her square in the face.
As the disoriented Peech stumbled back, the technician snapped an arm out to grab the rifle out of her limp hands. He then spun around and opened fire, rapidly and randomly, back through the door into the bridge, causing the various Irkens trying to chase him to scatter and seek cover. He kept this up for a moment, then turned and ran down the hall again, the others soon pursuing again.
This chase didn't last long, however, as before the technician could even reach the next intersection in the hallway, several squads of soldiers emerged around the corner and aimed their weapons at him, causing him to skid to a halt. He tried to turn around to double back, but the security forces from the bridge had caught up, and they were now pointing their weapons at him as well. Snarling as his eyes glinted in panic-induced madness, he brought up his pilfered rifle to shoot…
BANG
BANG
"GAH!" the technician screamed as something punched holes into the rifle, grazing his hands in the process. As he dropped the rifle and clutched his injured hands, everyone else blinked in surprise and turned to face the source of the sound, to find Senior standing there holding his new revolvers. He blew the smoke off their barrels and melodramatically twirled them before holstering them, then noticed everyone staring in slack-jawed shock.
"What?" he asked with a shrug, "Just because I don't like using guns doesn't mean I don't know how."
"Yes, yes, very good," Red said, waving Senior off as he and Purple caught up with the guards, "Now someone grab this guy, and-"
"Everyone back off!" the technician screamed, holding up a plasma grenade and gripping its pin.
"Oh, come on! Where'd he get that from?" Purple demanded incredulously, even as he shoved several guards in front of himself.
"Nobody come any closer, or I'll blow us all up!" the technician yelled, eyes frantic and shooting about wildly.
"Don't be foolish, there's no reason for this to end badly," Darth said in a smoothing tone, taking a few steps forward, "Simply put the grenade down and-"
"I said back off, freak!" the technician snarled, "I won't let you get inside my head! I've been a puppet of the Empire long enough, I'm not letting you turn me into a literal one! I've worked too hard to be stopped now!"
"Yes, yes, we're all very impressed with your treachery," Wiyn sneered, not seeming at all concerned at the prospect of getting blown up, "I'm sure it was such hard work."
"You're damn right it was hard work!" the technician snapped, turning his glare on Wiyn as he tightened his grip on the grenade pin, "Do you have any idea how difficult it is to set up an assassination attempt when you're working entirely on your own? Well, I won't be alone after this. I'll be a martyr; my actions will inspire countless others! Long live the New Or-!"
ZAP
ZAP
ZAP
The technician's rant was cut short as three plasma blasts suddenly shot through the air, hitting him in the chest, side, and finally the PAK, causing it to burst into a smoldering mess. This knocked the technician off his feet, and as he fell over, the grenade dropped from his hands, pin being pulled out by the sudden motion.
As everyone jerked in surprise and panic as they realized what had just happened, Dite dashed forward, blaster still smoking, and grabbed the beeping grenade. She then spun around and kicked open a nearby vent, and tossed the grenade into it, before leaping away and taking cover, as did everyone else when they realized what she'd just done. Seconds later, the wall burst open in a flash of plasma and flame.
When the smoke and debris cleared, everyone was able to stand up and take stock. A huge hole was in the wall, extending down to the next level, but it didn't appear as if anyone had been harmed. Except for the technician, of course, whose corpse Darth was clutching the head of, eyes glowing as he tried to examine the dead Irken's memories, only to curse as they faded into nothing before he could grasp them.
"Did you have to shoot him in the PAK?" Darth snapped, glaring at Dite.
"He was about to blow us all up! I acted on instinct!" she retorted, frowning back at him.
"And a job well done, soldier," Red nodded in approval, "Commander Wiyn, give her the rest of the day off."
"Er, thank you, my Tallest?" Dite said, blinking at the underwhelming reward.
"Okay, show's over, everyone back to work," Purple announced, waving everyone off in a dismissive fashion.
"What? My Tallest, things are far from finished," Darth said, "We need to investigate to find out if he was working with anyone else."
"He just said he wasn't," Red said flatly, "If he were working with anyone, he'd be bragging about having an army behind him or something. Hell, they'd probably have shown up to try and help him. So, case closed, you found your Miz supporter in the Armada, you can go now."
"The Control Brains will not be pleased by this," Darth replied, narrowing his eyes.
"Why not? You did your job, a traitor's dead, and now we can all get back to conquering the universe," Red said, "Now go on and get out of here. And someone get a repair team up here to fix this hall!"
"Yeah, and toss what's-his-name's body out the airlock!" Purple added.
With that, everyone started wandering away back to where they'd come from. Soon, the only ones left in the wrecked hallway were the pair of Consulars, watching as a pair of security guards dragged away the technician's corpse.
"Was it me, or did his statement about working alone sound forced?" Feyr asked, "Like he was trying to convince us it was true?"
"Agreed. Unfortunately, his thoughts faded from existence before I could find anything of worth, and with his PAK destroyed we can't access his recorded memories," Darth grumbled, "There's no way to know for certain if he was working with anyone else."
"Can't we override the Tallest on this and keep investigating?"
"Sadly, I fear that this provides them with enough wiggle-room to claim that our mission has succeeded, and thus get rid of us. And they're too egotistical about their power to let us stick around and keep suggesting that everyone isn't as loyal to them as they want to believe," Darth said with a sigh, shaking his head, "Gather the others. We'll disembark before the Armada departs, but I'll recommend to the Control Brains that we double down on investigations elsewhere, and keep an eye out for any hint that things here aren't as cleared as they seem."
"By your command," Feyr responded with a bow, before walking off. Darth stayed behind for a few more minutes, staring at the still smoldering hole in the wall and floor in quiet contemplation. Eventually, however, he finally turned and left as well, still deep in thought.
So wrapped up in his own head as he was, Darth wasn't feeling out for the minds of others. As such, he didn't notice Bob at the other end of the hallway, watching him walk off with a smirk, before leaving down a side corridor.
Lower Levels, A Short Time Later
In a disused meeting hall, Bob stood on a platform. The rest of his cell was assembled before him, while a curtain with the NIO symbol painted on it stretched across the hallway behind him.
"My friends, I'm sure by now you've all heard what befell of our dear comrade, Technician Felot," Bob stated, "His attempt to kill all the Consulars failed, but in that failure there is still a victory, thanks to the contingency he and I agreed on beforehand. For once he was tracked down and killed, he managed to first deceive the Tallest and their boot-lickers into believing that he was the only follower of Miz's message aboard this ship. As such, the Consulars are being sent back to Irk, and we are now free to continue our work without suspicion. And in honor of Felot's sacrifice, let me show you what that work has given us."
As he finished saying that, Bob gestured to Garuk, who was standing off to the side. Nodding in response, Garuk pulled on a cord, causing the curtain to fall away, leaving everyone to "ooh" at the sight of what was behind it — a huge tower of computer servers and screens rising from the floor all the way up to the ceiling, where it disappeared into a mess of cables.
"Thanks to the effort of Felot, as well as other engineers and technicians, we have managed to construct a communications array of unrivaled power," Bob explained, "And thanks to the access codes stolen from Tallest Purple, we have been able to tie this bad boy into the Massive's systems while hiding it from discovery. Simply put, my friends, we have created a Dark Irk-Net hub that is both completely mobile and completely undetectable."
Cheers and whoops of excitement cried out from the crowd, and Bob grinned widely at that, giving them a moment before carrying on.
"This is the day our movement truly becomes organized," he proclaimed, "With this hub serving as a nerve center, we'll be able to pull together all the various cells across the Empire; being able to communicate with each other in an utterly secure way will provide us the means to build a true army, from right under the Tallest's antennae! And then, when the time is right, we will strike down the rotted structure that is the height hierarchy from within its very core!"
As the crowd cheered even louder than before, Bob threw his arms wide, emulating Miz to the best of his ability.
"Long live the New Order!" he shouted, dozens of voices soon echoing him.
"LONG LIVE THE NEW ORDER!"
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End Episode 6
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A/N: And there we are. We've gotten a look at how the New Irken Order is operating within the Empire, and the stage is set for them to expand in the future. Meanwhile, we've met a bunch of characters who will have varying levels of importance down the road.
Speaking of which, just to reiterate a point I made at the top, most of these new OCs belong to SaintHeartwing; only Lieutenant Mook and the named NIO members (other than Bob) are mine. SHW, I hope I did a decent job with your characters' personalities.
Anyway, sorry for the heavy exposition throughout this chapter, but it wasn't really avoidable. That's the price for world-building, which is something I've really wanted to do with this season. Hope the chapter was enjoyable anyway.
Oh, and I don't normally point out the shout outs I include, but I hope everyone spotted that meta nod towards Enter the Florpus I included in this chapter. Specifically, calling out that bit of out-of-character stupidity on Red's part in the film.
And on a final note, just letting everyone know that it'll probably be well into January, if not February, before I get out the next chapter. And that's because, aside from the usual reasons, I'm going to be taking some time off to work on a couple of smaller projects I've had in mind for a while, but haven't gotten around to before now. So, keep your eyes peeled for those.
That's all for now.
Next time: A mishap during a fight sends all three teams into an alternate universe.
Until then, please review!