-----
 
 

  "...You horrible little beasts! You awful, wretched, worthless rejects of existence! You're both a big waste of space and all our efforts! You're pitiful, simple-minded sacks of..."

  Gori tended to go on like this when she was upset.

  Sorun and Teir knelt on the ground before her, heads hung. They stared at nothing.

  "...will take months to sort out and, by Irk, is there a lot to sort out! What sort of excuse do you think His Tallest can make without sounding either crazy or careless or both?"

  Sorun mumbled something.

  "What was that?" Gori said sharply. "Speak up, you little brat!"

  "He could tell the truth. We're his heirs, both of us." Sorun raised his head and matched Gori's furious stare with one of a calm, controlled anger. "And we're twice your height, in case you've forgotten."

  "Don't you dare take that tone with me, you insolent whelp!" Gori shrieked, baring her teeth. "Shorter or not, I am your superior! I own you both until you are either Tallest or dead, and I don't give a damn which one either of you becomes! In fact I think it'd work out best if both of you were dead!"

  Teir had raised his head as well. "Then kill us, why don't you?"

  Both Irken boys saw the fear and uncertainty spread across Gori's face before she could compose herself. Teir continued, "That's just it, isn't it? Your threats have no power to them at all. It's just words."

  Gori's face screwed up in fury. "Go to your room!"

  "And if we don't?" Sorun asked calmly.

  For a moment Gori stood in silence, trying to think of an effective strategy. Then her right arm drew back behind her, and returned brandishing her taser. She smiled maliciously.
 
 

Teir of Grashu-Miyak
Letter of Appeal to His Tallest the Emperor of Irk

My Tallest,

Undoubtably by this time you have heard reports by media and officials alike of the unauthorized excursion my companion Sorun and I underwent several months ago. I write to you to request cessation of the cruel and unusual punishment that my companion and I have undergone since this time.

We are well aware that our actions on the night in question were not authorized, and that among our violations are the breaking of curfew, illegal hacking of window gate computers, theft of rations, attack upon law enforcement robots and the theft of an official military vehicle. We acknowledge and confess to all of these crimes. However, we do not feel that the reprimand for these actions as meted out by our caretakers is just.

In the past half-year, we have been subject to spontaneous and completely random verbal and physical abuse-- the latter kind usually in the form of electrocution. We are deliberately underfed and overworked. We are forbidden access to the schoolhouse library, barred from our room during daylight hours, ignored when we request aid and on occasion were refused immediate medical treatment for serious injury. I am not, as a matter of fact, even allowed to write this letter; something that is my basic constitutional right, one even granted to the lowliest, shortest military cadets.

My companion and I humbly request that such treatment as I have just described be prohibited in our schoolhouse, and that the perpetrators --our caretakers-- be reprimanded or replaced.

Yours sincerely,

Teir of Grashu-Miyak
99187893789697196
 
 

Chief Advisor Dirn of Seylph-Nawd
Response to Letter of Appeal Sent to His Tallest the Emperor of Irk

Request denied.

Signed,

Dirn of Seylph-Nawd
2280166490178230
 
 

  Teir stared hard at the letter in his hands. His expression was unreadable. Sorun watched him with concern, and stared unblinkingly at Teir as the boy lowered the letter from near his face, and cracked it in half.

  Sorun's antennae flattened against his head. He grimaced.

  "It never even got through to him," Teir said quietly, casting the fragments aside. They tinkled on the metal floor. "Some advisor person answered instead."

  The Irken with the rust-red eyes paused for a moment. "Well, he is a very busy man..."

  "We're his heirs!"

  Sorun hesitated again. This was technically true, and at the same time sounded very inaccurate. They weren't both his heirs, only one of them would be ascending the throne, and yet...

  He made a small noise of disgust and shook his head. Why even bother about it? What mattered here and now was that they were subordinate to very short people and would be for another year and a half. No one was going to come to their aid, so they'd better just deal with it.

  And perhaps they deserved what they were getting. They had crossed authority, they had committed crimes. But none of it really seemed fair. They didn't know the theft of that tiny Irken's rations was at all significant, and what sort of theft of a voot runner is it if someone with no flight experience can get it to work? As for the curfew, well, Sorun figured that the world needed fewer curfews, mostly because he'd lived his life thus far by them...

  Growing bored with Sorun's silence, Teir leaned over and poked him between the eyes.

  Absently, Sorun bit down on the finger. Teir yelped and tugged at Sorun's antenna with the other hand. Sorun stuck out his right arm and grasped Teir firmly by the neck, beginning to squeeze.

  Now this was a bit more like it, Teir felt, clawing at Sorun's eyes as his lungs cried for breath. Just like the good ol' days. In a few minutes they'd both be bleeding bad enough that they'd forget all about their problems. What a lovely solution this always was.

  And in the heat of their brawl, Sorun saw Teir smile.