Invader Zim Doodles

He waited responsibly until the tallests were accosted by ambassadors from Slorb (notoriously long winded) and then slipped off to inspect the spread.

The booze table was gorgeous. There were Nuvian cakes, pasties, large bottles of Vortian beer and Greckken liquors, all waiting to be greedily poured into decadent glasses. Rarl choose a green liquor and filled one to the top.

It was sweet and bitter all at once, and burned his palate not unpleasantly. He finished it and choose another bottle, a red one.

“Rarl Kove, I’ve never seen you indulge so much.”

Rarl started, controlled himself, and then deliberately poured himself a generous amount of the red before turning smoothly around.

“Hello Hoctsch,” he said.

The councilor was always bigger than he appeared on the vidcoms at home. Rarl stared up at Hoctsch’s granite bulk and refused to be intimidated.

Hoctsch’s mica eyes glittered down at him from his craggy, dour face. “Babysitting tonight?”

“That,” Rarl replied, taking a sip of spicy red liquor, “is disrespectful.”

Hoctsch smiled slightly and looked across the room at the two juvenile tallests. “They’re very young.”

Rarl agreed, but could not say so directly. He watched Red yawn as the Slorbian ambassadors gestured avidly with all of their limbs.  

Hoctsch sighed. Rarl up looked at his rocky face and wondered if it had been created looking aged and grumpy. Mineral species led strange lives, and Hoctsch was very, very old.

He was suddenly aware of the lapse in conversation. The red bottle was still quite full so he picked it up and gestured to the councilor. “Greckken?”

Hoctsch grimaced and waved a spindly limb.  Ah, no thank you. I am quite full of Bavaratie wine already.”  He suddenly looked melancholy. “It was a favorite of Miyuki’s, you know.”  

“I know.” Rarl set down the bottle and tried not to think about the obvious.

Hoctsch watched him critically. “Why has the Empire refused my communication requests during the last six rotations?”

“Is that all you came over here for?”

The councilor blinked and moved closer to him. “Partly.”

“They gave us orders to put you off.”

“Don’t pretend to be stupid, Rarl.” His voice dropped low and deliberate, but there was no malice in it, only urgency. “Nobody has gotten an audience with them since Vort. What’s going on?”

There was a certain camaraderie between them that Rarl had not felt with anybody in cycles, and that was precisely what made Hoctsch so dangerous.

I want to tell him, he realized helplessly, I want somebody to understand that I’m trying to keep things like they were, but Miyuki’s dead, the Vortians are dead, the universe has gone mad and we’re planning a secret war against everybody.

Instead he said, “You really are unsubtle at subterfuge, even for a politician.”

Hoctsch frowned. “You think I’m dishonest?”

“You’re always mining for information, Hoctsch.”

“I am not dishonest.”

Rarl conceded and took another drink. “Fine. You blatantly ask for confidential information.”

“Well, yes.”

There was a crash and a lot of yelling from the opposite side of the room. Rarl turned just in time to see Red get pushed backwards by one of the Slorbian ambassadors. A crowd quickly formed around the excitement and violence, obscuring their view.

Someone laughed. Then there was the crack of a gun beam.

Hoctsch looked at Rarl. “Should you be.. advising?”

Rarl finished his drink and looked around the room resignedly.

“Nothing can get through that armor. I’ve assassin-proofed them.”

He suddenly noticed Purple lurking on the edge of the crowed, tucking a liquid canister into his pocket. Fisher-replicate me, he thought, they’re drunk.

“Goodbye Hoctsch,” he said, setting down his glass and walking towards the commotion.

"Goodbye. I hope to see you again.”

Rarl nodded back and then went to extricate Red from the crowd.

__________________________

They were on a ship back to Irk twenty mortifying minutes later. Purple was extremely disappointed to miss the entertainment and sulked silently in his seat.

Rarl checked Red for bruises.  There didn’t seem to be any damage but he inspected him thoroughly anyways, carefully prodding and looking for oddities. “You shouldn’t drink at a political function,” he said softly, replacing the bulky shoulder plates.

Red laughed. “Good old Rarl. Where were you during the fight, anyways?”

“I was speaking with Hoctsch.”

“Hoctsch?”

“Councilor Hoctsch.”

Purple interjected from his seat. “He’s the fat waffling rock on tiny legs.”

Rarl suddenly felt indignant on Hoctsch’s behalf. He understands politics exponentially better than either of you, he thought, remembering the camaraderie he had felt at the party. More than camaraderie. Respect.

Miyuki would have talked with Hoctsch for hours, sharing complex debates on politics as well as gossip while Rarl stood by and idly listened or watched the other guests.  He never thought he would miss those conversations.  

Red got up and walked back to his seat. “Well, whatever. We’ve got better things to do at home anyways.” He leaned back and glanced at Purple. “Got any left?”

Rarl left them and went to sit with the pilot.  Past is past, he told himself unconvincingly.