A Parade of Indignities

Chapter 15: Of Arising Tribulations and the Tallest's Parade of Indignities

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Considering the two intergalactic leaders had the mindset akin to a pair of dull-witted fraternity brothers, it should come as no surprise that Red and Purple were quite inept in the ways of patience. Quite inept in many respects, as a matter of fact. It hardly mattered, though.

They were among the few Irkens who had the privilege to flaunt the incredible power that genetics alone had bestowed upon them—height. And with that privilege came the ability to push the boundaries of brashness, indolence, and any other undesirable trait that would besmirch the reputation of a lesser Irken in the eyes of their heavily stringent, militaristic society.

The ship's extensive crew were prime examples of the "lesser Irkens" in question and often took the brunt of their leaders' abuse. Time had eventually conditioned them to hold their tongues unless spoken to, remain presentable at all times, and carry out their assigned tasks without so much as a single blunder. They took on a submissive stance in the name of self-preservation and therefore made it their collective undertaking to stay under the radar. And given that the two ends of Irken power distance were still forced to mesh in the midst of the spacious control room, it had led to a rather peculiar dynamic between the two parties.

Those who worked aboard the Massive quickly became desensitized to the unpleasant sounds of smacking lips and belches, crinkling snack wrappers, and loud conversations between Red and Purple. They kept to themselves and saw no reason to pry in their Tallest's private affairs.

In a strange turn of events, though, the past two weeks had seen something of an anomaly in this unspoken mentality. Suddenly, guards were dropped, glances were exchanged, and shifty-eyed gossip spread between crew members on the state of their race's politics.

It was all in the name of their Tallest's inexplicable change in attitude. Within the last week, a heavy and unexpected hush had fallen over them both, manifesting itself into a reasonable cause for worry. Out of the blue, the two had fallen into a state of total disengagement. The two had slowly lost their once insatiable obsession with snacking and partying, instead partaking in brooding conduct and private discussions with one another. It left a leery silence that hung heavily in the air and went so far as to distract those who worked aboard the Massive and strike them with a lingering sense of paranoia.

The uneasiness stemmed from the fact that nothing at all seemed to be amiss. No wars, no threats of rebellions... nothing. Why else would Irk's rulers be acting so uncharacteristically serious?

When Red and Purple did speak to one another, their voices were hushed and unmistakably argumentative, leading to vicious sessions of bickering that only seemed to get more and more intense with each passing day until it was nearly impossible for it to be ignored.

None of the crew members could have feasibly guessed what the source of their frustrations was: Larb.

Despite allotting him a specific deadline—a deadline that hadn't yet arrived, no less—neither Tallest was taking well to his lack of communication between them. As far as they were concerned, the job should have been finished promptly and cleanly within a matter of days. Instead, they had endured nearly two weeks of radio silence, made even more troublesome by one outlying factor—Zim's continued survival.

Purple had regularly checked the documentation of all newly deceased Irkens, poring over it at the same time every day. The Control Brains routinely updated such information and had it on standby. Each time, though, Zim's name was not on it. His PAK was still functional, and he was still harboring a deadly toxin that should have never seen the world outside of the laboratory in which it was created.