Elyon

Fraying

A whole day-cycle had passed and Red had not left his quarters. The medic had timidly inquired at his door, and had been warded off by a sharp command. Since then, no one had approached, though all his personal drones were worried what they would find when they were finally called upon.

What they would have found, had they opened the door, was a much more haggard Tallest than they had last seen. He had opted out of sleep, to ward off the dream, but the memory of it remained. That, and the image of the strange Irken on the cameras, telling him he had to make a choice. Just like the hooded figure. Were they on the same side?

No. He was a military commander, he could tell opposing forces when he saw them, and opposing tactics. The hooded figure might not be a commander, he wasn't sure, but it had been trying to hide this war from him, and told him that if he turned his eyes away from the war he would not have to choose. The invisible-to-everyone-else Irken had told him quite clearly that if he didn't choose at all, his path would be chosen for him.

Hysterical laughter bubbled up from his chest. The Invisible-To-Everyone-Else Irken? He really was going insane.

But if the hooded figure wanted the war hidden, then that meant the Invisible Irken was the one responsible for his seeing. Anger roiled in his guts. He was the one responsible for Red's nightmarish visions, possibly even the dreams. Yes, it all made sense. He had seen an Irken hand clasping his shoulder in the last dream, the one with the light that showed all the chains and filth.

At this he had begun to pace. But what if the chains and filth were what was real? What if all the power and stateliness of his room was nothing more than a beautiful dungeon? What if, all around him, his whole army was under attack and he was not really the commander of his own people, but an entirely other force pulled their strings?

And round and round the pile of ash and the rickety, moth-eaten bed he paced. For hours, struggling back and forth, teetering on the edge of madness.

Her name was Teruna.

The name of the executed Irken didn't even register. There were too many Irkens in his Empire to know all their names. How did this Irken know? She wasn't even that tall, not noteworthy or mentionable. Why did he bother learning her name?

Whatever was happening, Red realized, it was getting worse. In the beginning, he'd only seen a few small occurrences. The blood on the screen and the dot indicating the landing place of the SIR unit. Then a few of his staff with creatures on or near them. Then all the Irkens, and his quarters. If he walked out there now, what would he see? He shuddered to think.

Purple. Maybe Purple would be able to set him straight. It had been days since he'd seen his co-Tallest. He probed for Purple through his PAK.

He frowned. All he received was static. Was Purple's PAK undergoing repairs? He threw out tendrils, commanding information on Purple.

Purple had recently been in a council session regarding a Krissirk. All Krissirks were to be condemned, but they had placed it on public trial for the benefit of the rest of the Empire. It had been condemned by Tallest Purple, and was being held for execution.

A Krissirk was on board. His frown deepened. The Invisible Irken had accused Red of murdering his children, and mourned the death of this "Teruna" who had also been a Krissirk. If the Invisible Irken was responsible for his seeing, perhaps this Krissirk would be able to explain.

He cracked his claws, a low growl escaping him. Not perhaps, this Krissirk would explain his strange malady, or he would suffer for a long time before his death.

...

Afraid to see what changes had been wrought in the time he'd locked himself away, Red had tied on the blindfold. It was temporary, he assured himself, trying not to think of the insects running all along the folds. Just so he could get down to the holding cells.

He hovered along perfectly normal—if dimly lit—halls, past perfectly normal drones, soldiers, and staff. He felt his shoulders and spine sagging, relaxing as tension bled out of him. He hadn't realized how stiffly he'd been holding himself, afraid of what he would see. Now, he didn't have to worry. He almost chuckled as he entered the holding cells.

It was a vast room, stretching both wide and tall. All along the walls were tiny rooms, giving each prisoner 14 square feet of bare floor with three walls and a shock-fortified forcefield. It didn't matter the size of the prisoner, everyone received the same space. The larger prisoners were the most miserable, having to press against the back walls to keep from getting shocked. Red was not worried, everyone here was a criminal and deserved their fate.

Calling over the nearest overseer, he barked, "I want the Krissirk scheduled for execution by Tallest Purple earlier. I believe it to be withholding information vital to our ability to extinguish their threat. Set up an interrogation unit, I want to see it there in five minutes."
"Certainly my Tallest." The overseer saluted. "I will have two of my best interrogators prepare the equipment and extract the necessary information—"

"That won't be necessary." Red cut him off with a swipe of his hand. "I will be conducting this interrogation myself."

The overseer's antennae rose in surprise, but he knew better than to question a Tallest. "We will have the prisoner delivered to interrogation block 27Z in ten minutes."

"Make it five." Red turned, hovering in that direction. "I'm not feeling patient today."