-----
 
 

  "...Oh, rest assured, the troops on Devastis are--"

  "Undertrained, underfed and bored to insurrection," Rarg finished for the general tiredly, sipping from his wine glass. "Don't bother me with lies, General. Lies make the food grow sour and stale."

  Red prodded at his plate. "If it isn't already..." he muttered.

  They were at dinner in the imperial dining hall, just after the sun had set. Red and Purple sat side-by-side at the first table in their life that had been built to accomodate Tallest-class and not normal Irkens. On either side of them and across from them sat their nurses, the Tallest's many advisors and various dignitaries from other cities and planets. It was the first time either of the children had seen many of the class uniforms outside of the infofeed diagrams.

  The general's soldier uniform was fascinating. It was simplistic and focused on utility rather than style. And Red envied those black gloves. You could wear them while you did stuff instead of needing to pull the gloves off else get the material dirty. Black. That was the way to go...

  Red looked at his food again. It was apparently a million times better than the gruel that he and Purple had been fed in the schoolhouse, but it still looked disgusting. There was some sort of mashed vegetable paste here with some goo poured over it, and over there was a mass of tiny fish fetuses... repulsive! And he didn't care if meat was considered a delicacy; if it burned his flesh it was not going in his mouth.

  Purple seemed to be in a similar state. After ingesting some of the paste he had given up on food and kept asking for drink refills, periodically inquiring --most vexingly to the adults-- about the drinks all the other Irkens had been given.

  "That's not for youths," the advisor named Dirn said firmly. "Wine is an intoxicating substance and can have a negative effect on your bodily systems."

  "So, the reason you're all drinking it is because...?" Purple persisted.

  "Leave it alone, Purple," Red said quietly, moving the paste around in little spirals on his plate. The name sounded foreign, but Red couldn't bring himself to use the boy's proper name. At least not in the presence of a dozen government and military officials who had been informed of what their new, legal names were. "Just have some more juice."

  "We're nearly adults ourselves, I don't see why--"

  "Don't make a scene," his companion mumbled, bent over his plate.

  When the table's conversation had worked itself well away from Purple, Red glanced up and reached his left arm over under the table, tapping Purple's forearm. The violet-eyed Irken turned his head slowly.

  "We'll get some afterwards," Red said, winking.
 
 

  Drone Ricot was ecstatic. Here it was, his first day on duty at the palace --the actual imperial palace!-- and his first job had been preparing dinner not only for the Almighty Tallest and some undoubtably very important people, but also the young candidates for the throne. It was incredible!

  Ricot whistled to himself happily, holding the tray of plates over his head. He didn't mind that the weight seemed to be crushing his skull down into his spine, because that weight was composed of dishes the rulers of the empire had eaten off of. Oh, what joy!

  The tiny drone ascended the stairs to the upper level of the kitchens, passing by the billows of steam from the cooking pits and a rattling cart of freshly cleaned glasses. Ricot weaved between the other kitchen drones and was about to emerge on the dishwashing level when he was tapped on the shoulder.

  Ricot turned and looked up. And up some more. Truth be told, the Irken who was addressing him was crouching on the floor, but Ricot did not attain drone rank without possessing a lack of a certain physical trait.

  "Hey there," Red said happily. "Couldja get us a bottle of wine, maybe?"

  Despite being in the presence of what his instinct's told him was an unstoppable force of destruction once provoked, Ricot stammered, "I-I don't think I'm allowe--"

  "Look, you're either gonna get us the wine or some pain is gonna be felt around here, centered mostly around you."

  "Yessir! Right away sir!"

  A few minutes later, Red emerged from the kitchens with a wide grin across his face, carrying not one but two large violet glass bottles in his arms.

  "C'mon," he said to Purple, who had been standing guard. "I think I know where we can be alone."
 
 

  In his office, the windows all shuttered for the night behind him, Rarg sat at his desk. He was looking over some paperwork.

  A Tallest's primary responsibility is never in the finer details of law. Indeed, the only manner of politics that the Tallest was involved in at all was usually yelling out orders on television. Orders that other members of government had drafted, submitted and ratified.

  Presently the Tallest was looking over some of the bills that had been passed recently, not because he had any desire to review them, but because he liked to keep up with what the actual movers and shakers of government were up to.

  Technically, the Tallest was the ultimate authority in the empire. He technically had the power to shoot down any law, deny any proposal, and fire or arrest anyone. Apparently it was just ultimate coincidence that the Tallest hardly exercised this right.

  At one time Rarg had cared. At one time Rarg had tried investigating to see where things had gone wrong and where the Tallest had become nothing but a figurehead. But that was when he was young and he thought there was something he could do to change things.

  Rarg was drawn back into the present as he became aware of a telescreen hovering near him, bearing Dirn's face with her usual worried expression.

  "Yes, Advisor Dirn?"

  "My Tallest! An intruder has been captured prowling the western courtyard," said Dirn on the video screen, sounding a lot more distressed than the words suggested she should be.

  "And?"

  "It... is a very unusual intruder, sir. I strongly request that you come to the cells to see for yourself."

  Rarg sighed and lay the papers down on his desk, getting up uncomfortably from his seat. "I will be down shortly."

  "It is a rebel, sir," continued the advisor, trying to encourage her superior to reexamine his words. "She seems to be part of alpha division. And beyond that, sir, I have met her before."

  The Tallest raised an eyebrow. How often did that happen? "I'm on my way, Advisor Dirn."
 
 

  Red hung forward over the railing. He groaned softly.

  Purple, who was resting back on the bench behind him on the balcony, chuckled. "I think one of us really is drunk this time," he remarked, taking another swig from the bottle. He coughed a little as the liquid ran down his throat.

  The former Teir looked up misty-eyed at the sky, where hardly a star could be seen. He swallowed again and grimaced. The headache was getting very bad and he didn't think the unusual haziness from the alcohol was helping. It was a nova a lot worse than chocolate, and it didn't even have a good taste to make up for it, and yet...

  He heard the other Irken sigh, and looked back to where Red still stood-- or hunched, anyway.

  "I wanna die," Red mumbled, almost --but not entirely-- to himself. Words like those are never just to oneself.

  "Don't say that," Purple said wearily. If this was Sorun drunk, he'd prefer that the red-eyed Irken never came in contact with alcohol again. Sorun was a sad enough lump without intoxication. "Come on. Half a year and you'll be the Tallest. You're already taller than Rarg, the only thing stopping you is your education isn't complete."

  "You're taller than Rarg too."

  "We've been over this, Red." It came out a little more irritated than it needed to be, Purple considered. But he was tired of the subject being brought up.

  Red didn't know when to leave something well enough alone when he was sober, and now he was even worse about it. "If I was dead, you'd be Tallest instead. You'd make a better Tallest."

  "I'm good at pissing people off; that's about it." Purple massaged his forehead. Quasars, this headache's getting bad...

  "S'part o' the job description, pissin' people off. Y'know, I heard Rarg talkin' to that Dirn person, and that's what he doesn't like about me. I'm not mean."

  "I've seen you get pretty angry at people."

  "Not like you. You, now... You're vicious."

  "Thanks," said Purple, deciding it'd be best to take it as a compliment. I wonder what would happen if I just downed the whole bottle and be done with it. Being stupid like Sorun for a while might help.

  "Urhg..." garbled Red, leaning further over the railing. "Sweet nova, my head... Pass me some more of that, will you?"

  "Hmm..." Purple reached a conclusion through the haze. "I think you've had enough. I think I've had enough, too. Maybe we should just get to bed."

  In a sudden moment of sobriety, Red said, "Damn. We're staying here tonight, aren't we?"

  "Yeah. Hey, don't worry. We'll be outta here first thing in the morning and back to the schoolhouse."

  Red made another sick sound, but pushed himself off the railing with a little effort. He wobbled on his feet. "I dunno if I'll be able to sleep..."

  Purple got up from the bench, and was surprised to find himself a little disoriented. Did he drink more than he thought? "Don't worry. I'll see that you do."

  The crimson-eyed Irken turned around and flashed Purple an amused look. "Every time I hear you say that it sounds so dodgy, but it just ends up you hitting me on the head."

  Purple grinned.
 
 

  His utility pack told him it was well after midnight. And he knew without a doubt that he ought to be asleep by now, even with the sleeping drugs he took as a last resort two hours ago.

  He couldn't help it. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

  It was the sort of wrong that made his pale skin creep, and his antennae straighten painfully. And in the past hour he could have sworn he'd started to hear sounds.

  Purple got up. He pushed aside the glass of his rejuv chamber --a much cushier alternative to those stupid bed-things at home-- and climbed out. It was cold. The smog on Irk was so thick that there was never experienced much temperature change throughout the year, but it was cold there and then. He swung his legs over the side and let his bare feet touch the metal floor, to have a shiver run up his spine.

  The difficulty with the rejuv chambers was that wearing clothes in them was heavily frowned upon. It had something to do with sanitation. So of course, in deference to the obviously inferior but still commanding palace staff, the two tall Irkens had shed their garments for the night. And so, feeling more than a little bit exposed, because he'd heard the stories about there being surveillance cameras in nearly every room of the imperial palace, Purple crossed the freezing floor in silence to the wardrobe where he and Red had placed their academy uniforms that evening, and slid the panel aside.

  His uniform was gone. So was, after an intensely brief inspection of the small wardrobe, Red's. Purple's antennae dropped as his eyes fell upon the only articles of so-called clothing that could be found there.

  It was a set of Tallest armor. Well, four sets; two for each of them. One of each pair was the normal one, and one was the freakish one with odd-looking waistbands that Purple never, ever wanted to try but suspected he'd have to all the time-- if he was going to be Tallest, that is. Which obviously wasn't a possibility. Right.

  Purple grimaced. He didn't like the armor sets. It was far too much metal to surround any one person without becoming a mech suit, and it didn't even offer much by way of protection. It was just stylistic.

  ...Hate it, hate it, hate it, hate it...

  There wasn't much alternative, though, and that bothered him all the worse. In the morning he was going to find whatever launderer took his and Red's uniforms and... start... exerting some authority, dammit!

  He tried to dress in silence, which was also difficult to do when your garments are made of flex-metal and usually require at least two assistants to put on at any decent speed. He could get the leg armor with little worry, although he decided to keep off the anti-grav belt until everything else was on, and the chestplate was easy enough except that once it was on it was a little difficult to reach over with either arm to attach the shoulder armor. The waistbands were a nightmare-- they had to be coupled in the back.

  ...Gonna kill whoever started this tradition if he isn't already dead...

  Outfit finally complete, Purple adjusted the anti-grav belt one more time and switched it on. There was only the faintest of hums, and he felt the same sensation as when he and Red, as Teir and Sorun, had nearly crashed in that voot back in their fourth year. Except without the feeling of impending doom. For the most part.

  He silently hovered for the door. Except that he'd forgotten that he wasn't working in two planes anymore, rose too sharply, and struck his forehead on top of the door frame. The bang echoed throughout the room.

  Purple cursed quietly as the door slid aside and admitted him into the desolate hallway.

  He floated out, wobbling slightly. The lights were dimmed, but not shut out, and there was an almost hazy red glow in the hallway. Purple stopped short in the middle of the floor and strained to listen. Yes, there were definitely sounds from over that way, and what could be going on at this time of night that made a noise like that? It almost sounded like...

  But it couldn't be...

  Knowing nothing else to do, Purple hovered off in the direction of the sounds. Years with only barely mentally stable nurses --least stable of all his own aide, Gesh-- who tended to scream at him a lot had not done Purple well, and during his search he took more than a few wrong turns. But if anyone had noticed his presence they weren't commenting on it.

  He came to a doorway at the end of a very long hallway. Red and Purple hadn't been shown this area on the tour earlier that day, and was only vaguely referred to as boring stuff-- boiler rooms and storage.

  The sound was loudest here, at this door. Purple was certain of it. By now he could hear, although faintly, the screams from within, interspersed with the most pitiful begging Purple had ever heard.

  "...please... please... oh goddess, please let me g-- aaaaaghhh! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I know it's forbidden but it's... aghhhh!... it's force of habit, damn you! AAAAAAH!"

  If the sounds were any indication, this was not the sort of situation a person should walk in on, especially one who was officially expendable anyway.

  But he couldn't turn back. He couldn't leave well enough alone. Because...

  ...It was Sut.