A Parade of Indignities

Chapter 27: Of Final Blows and the Limits of Hanging on by a Thread

Chapter art created and owned by Lillylunala.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Do not think. Do not think. Get to the Tallest. They will sort everything out. Do not think.

The mantra went on and on through his head, working in tempo to his footsteps. Zim had slowed to a hunched walk through the empty halls after ensuring he was out of Dib's sight.

The Tallest must be wondering where I've been all this time. Yes, of course they are.

He hugged his chest numbly and picked up his stride.

They haven't been able to reach me on that garbage heap of a ship Tak had left behind. Of course. Do not think. Do not think. Do not—

The constant internal chanting was interrupted by a wide pane of glass that caught his eyes, startling him. He stopped, then turned to face his own reflection. A shallow intake of breath whistled through his teeth. He frowned.

The mark of the Irken elite that had been neatly stamped on his forehead was now smudged down towards his left temple. He lifted a shaky hand and tried to rub away the worst of it with his index finger.

When he dropped his arm again, he realized just how bedraggled the rest of him looked. His antennae were both askew, the fabric of his lavish uniform was noticeably wrinkled, and, on top of it all, he still smelled faintly of Dib's horrid human "alcohol."

He made hasty attempts to tidy himself, brushing over the long fabric of his tunic with both palms and fidgeting with the gaudy accessories on his uniform. He stood in different sideways poses, trying in vain to choose one that would best conceal the bent end of his antenna.

In the midst of it, his eyes went slightly distant, and he found himself staring dimly towards the mirrored sight of his own face. His heart began to beat faster and faster.

No! Do not think. Do not think! Get to the Tallest!

He pinched his eyes shut and abruptly turned his back on his reflection, continuing down the broad hallway. His eyes wandered only to read plaques above doors or signs at the ends of hallways for clues as to where he should be going.

Despite residing in the barracks directly beside the palace grounds in the early days of his military training, he had never once been inside the palace itself. It was an honor reserved for only the most exclusive of the Irken race. Only they and trusted ambassadors from other planets were allowed in.

Zim made his way to a large elevator door and pressed down on the button beside it. It opened, and in the same half-aware manner, he stepped inside.

Do not think.

The inside of the lift resembled his own only in basic architecture. It was far larger, far more lavish, and constructed out of more expensive materials. Unlike his, its walls were opaque, sparing the presence of any wiring or tubing in the walls.

It lazily came to a stop on the top floor, where Zim remembered the broad window leading to the Tallest's main chambers. At least, that's what he had been taught. The throne room was settled at the very top of the palace—symbolically so, as the highest floors were reserved for the most elite. He could still remember his squadron remarking upon it during their first days above ground as smeets. "You see those windows? That's where the Tallest lives! That way, she can look down on the entire city."

By the time it reopened, Zim was greeted with a luxurious interior setting that contrasted quite sharply with the cold, drafty chamber he and Dib had been jailed in. Even the finest bunkers belonging to the highest of Irken nobility seemed mundane compared to the pure grandeur of the Tallest's palace.