#sweetiepiewrites

Standing hand in hand at Stone-in-the-Wood, they watched the Crucible until the last blue flame died out. Rian’s question lingered in their minds. “Will they come?” She knew his faith in their fellow gelfling was tested time after time on their journey. Would they believe him? Would they help him? Would they see the truth? He'd been let down so many times, it was no wonder there was still doubt.

“I think so,” she assured him, placing her other hand on his. “Brea and Gurjin and the rest will, at least. And they may bring others.” She offered him a smile, a genuine one. It was a relief to see Brea safe and the rest of their friends away from harm.

He returned her smile, but it faded into his exhausted expression. “We'd better get ready, then.”

His hand slipped out of hers as he began walking off toward one of the buildings. It left an impression, just like his touch always did, as if her skin wanted to savor the sensation. Even now, she could feel him in her memory. His weight in her arms as she carried him through the breath of Thra, the hand he laid on her back after their crash to make sure she was alright, her arms wrapped around him as he carried her out of the cave's mouth… He had a way of making her feel protected and safe with only the touch of his hands, and the feeling always lingered.

His acts of gallantry didn't end there. She watched him slip back into the soldier as they journeyed through the caves of Grot. He led her, sword in hand, ready to face any danger they may encounter. He insisted on entering her house first, just in case there were any arathim inside. When a darkened nurloc attacked, he drew the creature to himself so she could escape.

She understood the impulse to protect well. After all, she’d done the same for him. When the Hunter infiltrated the Circle of the Suns, she instinctively jumped in front of Rian, not thinking of her own safety or how to defend herself. Her only thought was that she didn't want to see him harmed again.

She followed him to a large stone building behind them Maudra’s home. They found the door padlocked. Rian disappeared into the Maudra’s home for a brief moment and returned with the key.

“What is this?” Deet asked.

“The Armory,” Rian answered, unlocking the door. “The Stonewood have a saying. ‘The hand that wields the blade cannot help the fall into their feet, but there are times when the blade is necessary.’ So, we're always prepared.” He swung the doors open, revealing the stores of Stonewood weapons. Armor hung on the walls. Spears, axes, and swords rested in their stands. “Traditionally, when a Stonewood warrior's battle is over, they melt their blade down in the Crucible. The metal is then forged into new blades when they are needed again.”

“Excuse me but…” She glanced towards the courtyard, “those blades didn’t look melted to me.”

“Yes, the Crucible stopped working after the Arathim Wars. I imagine the glaive had something to do with that. Perhaps Thra knew we would need them again before long.”

They stepped in and looked around. The empty space on the shelves and walls gave some clue as to what exactly happened to the Stonewood Warriors.

“It seems your clan got your message, after all,” Deet said, noting an empty axe-shaped space on the wall surrounded by a layer of dust.

“Yes,” he murmured, gently leaning the glaive against a wall. “If I hadn't seen more Maudra Fara in the flames, I'd be fearing the worst.”

Together, they spent the rest of the afternoon taking inventory and counting supplies. Once that was finished, Rian took up the duel glaive again. He held it up to the light and ran his fingers carefully along the edge. He didn’t seem satisfied with what he found.

“For a legendary sword, this thing could stand to be a lot sharper,” he quipped, taking a fresh whetstone off the shelf. “I think we've done about all we can here, at least until we see who shows up.”  He took the keys and started out. “Come on. I think I've got a surprise.”

“What's that?”

He cast her smirk over his shoulder “How would you like to sleep with a roof over your head for a change?”

They walked away from the armory and he led her to a house not far from the village square. It was a charming home carved into the trunk of a tree. There was a little path lined with rocks leading up to it. Colored glass bobbles and a bird feeder hung from the lower branches. It looked dark, especially in the twilight of the setting suns, but she could so easily imagine it lit up with candles and a warm fire.

“I this your house?” she asked as Rian reached into a knot on the side of the tree and pulled out a spare key.

“It is now, I guess,” he said. “This was my grandmother's house. I spent my summers here as a childling. She passed away a few unumn before all this chaos started. It passed to my father and now…” He unlocked the door without another word and they went inside.

It was dark and very still. She could see the fireplace, some soft chairs, a sofa and a rug on the floor. It looked cozy and lived in. It looked like a home and it made her heart ache for her own. “It's lovely.”

“Thank you. This is probably my favorite place in Thra, to be honest.” He looked around with a gentle fondness in his eyes. “Some of my happiest memories are here.”

“Those summers you talked about? When your father would visit? Camping and fizzgig hunting?”

A smile spread on his lips. “Yes exactly. It'll be nice to spend at least one more night here. Whatever happens tomorrow…” The warmth in his face quickly faded to dread. That happened to him so easily and it made her heart hurt every time.

She put her hand on his shoulder as if she could transfer some of her warmth to him. “Let's try to make it fun, then.”

“Fun?” he said as if he didn't know the meaning of the word.

“Yes, let's pretend we're just two gelfling spending a quiet night together. Tomorrow is just an ordinary day.”

He looked amused for a moment but that, too, faded quickly. “As tempting as that is, I've had enough comforting lies for one lifetime.”

“It's not a lie. It's a game,” she said, putting some playfulness into her voice.

“The way a childling plays house?”

“Yes, that's it. We'll pretend we live a peaceful life here and we're just enjoying our evening the way we usually would.”

“Alright.” A genuine grin broke like daylight on his face. “But if we're going to play, we'll need characters.”

“She beamed at him. Now he was catching on. “Good idea. I'll be Miss Hollerbat and I'm an herbalist.”

“I'm Mr. Nebrie, the cobbler.

“Alright,” she laughed. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Nebrie.”

“Enchanted, Miss Hollerbat.” He stepped forward and kissed her hand.

She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “You have a lovely home, Mr. Nebrie.”

“Thank you Miss Hollerbat. I'm so glad you could visit.” His eyes drifted to the kitchen. “Let's just hope there's food in it.”

“I'll start a fire while you look.”

“Sounds good.” He flashed her a smile as he headed toward the kitchen. “Please make yourself at home.”

“For that, we might need to move this place quite far underground,” she quipped, looking for flint stones.

“Whatever makes you comfortable,” he said, laughter in his voice.

The sound made her heart swell. “And of course we'll need a few dozen nurloc.”

“Nurloc might be hard to come by,” he retorted, keeping up his playful tone, “but you can trip over a few hundred fizzgig at any given moment.”

Rian managed to scrape together enough food for a stew, although he did have to check other people’s gardens and hope a few vegetables wouldn't be missed. He also found a bottle of Spriton berry wine for them to share. Once supper was ready, they sat together by the fire to eat. When they finished, they sipped their wine as the fire crackled and they continue to their game.

“So how was your day, Mr. Nebrie,” Deet asked, taking a sip from her glass.

“Well, let’s see,” Rian mused. “I woke up, had breakfast, tripped over about a hundred fizzgig…”

“You said that about the fizzgig, already,” she pointed out, giggling.

“You don't understand they're usually everywhere. Just a truly ridiculous amount of fizzgig wherever you look.” He put down his glass so he could gesture more freely. Deet laughed as he became more animated. “A lot of people keep them as pets, but my father always said ‘why bother when there are going to be at least three barking at your door any moment?’”

“Didn't you say you hunted fizzgig as a childling?”

“Yes but we never kept them,” he explained smiling at the memory. “We just gave them some belly rubs and some berries for their troubles and let them go.”

“Oh, that's sweet.” She could so easily imagine tiny Rian playing gently with the fuzzy creatures.

“Actually, when I was a childling, we had this neighbor. Orla was her name. She was the sweetest little old lady and she kept about five fizzgig at a time. They were the gentlest, most docile creatures you ever saw.                They left every living thing in Thra alone except my father.” A nostalgic twinkle came to his eye as he spoke. “My mother and I could always tell when he was almost home because all five would start yapping at once. I don't know what he did to earn their ire, but they never let it go. Those fizzgig and Maudra Fara were the only creatures in Thra who could irritate my father on purpose and get away with it.”

“Maudra Fara?”

He chuckled. “Yes, I'm fairly certain teasing my father to his face was a favorite hobby of hers.” A shadow passed over his face. “I imagine she’ll miss that.”

“Perhaps she can tease you instead,” Deet suggested, hoping to lighten his mood.

He shook his head. “I don't think it will have the same appeal. A lot of my friends tease me all the time, but no one messed with my father.” His smile faded as he looked away from her. He went quiet for a moment. His eyes fogged over as he lost himself in thought.

Deet reached out to him. “Rian?”

He looked up and flashed her a forced smile. “I'm fine.” He let out a deep breath and continued their game. “So Miss Hollerbat, how are you enjoying Stone-in-the-Wood so far?” he asked, taking another sip from his wine glass.

“Oh, it's been wonderful,” she answered, feeling the warmth in her chest. “There's so many beautiful plants and animals that I've never seen before. And I've met the sweetest gelfling… maybe not here, exactly, but near here. He is a Stonewood, though. He’s great friend. He really helped me feel welcome on the surface, like I'm not so strange after all.”

“I'm sorry Miss Hollerbat, but that's impossible,” he interjected firmly.

“Excuse me?”

“I happen to know the sweetest gelfling in Thra is a Grotton named Deet.” The way he looked at her made her heart beat wildly. “She's the kindest soul I've ever met. She's really been a great friend, too. I don't know if I'd have made it this far without her. I just hope that, with everything that lies ahead, I can keep her safe.”

She reached out and put her hand on his, her heart racing all the while. “I know my friend Rian is very brave. I've seen him put himself between his friends in danger many times before. And he does it because he has so much love in his heart. Whatever happens tomorrow, I'll know he fought his hardest to protect everyone. It's too big a job for one gelfling to take on alone, but he tries anyway. I just hope he knows he's not alone and he'll always be my kind, brave friend.”

“Deet always knows the best things to say,” he choked out. She could hear tears behind his voice. He took her other hand, looking at her with glistening eyes. “What should he and say to her to tell her how much she's helped him?”

“He doesn't have to say anything. It's what friends do.”

“What do you think Deet would like Rian to say to her?” He asked, leaning closer.

“Well,” she paused to collect her thoughts and attempt to stop her head from spinning. “I imagine it made her feel really good whenever he told her he didn't think she was weird. After so many gelfling made her feel like she didn't belong, it was nice to hear out loud that someone accepted her.”

He flashed a mischievous grin. “I’ll bet Rian would like to know the names of these gelflings so he can have a little talk with them about how wonderful deed is and tell them they are idiots for not seeing it.”

“Deet would probably say it's alright because he's already made her feel safe and accepted and…” She searched her mind for something to add, but she’d lost herself in the sparkling blue of his eyes. “…and he gives great hugs.”

“I'll have to tell her she should try hugging Gurjin sometime to compare,” he laughed. “And I should tell her that just being around her has made everything that happened more bearable.”

“I'll have to tell him that just being around him makes her happy.”

“And I'll tell her she makes the world seem more beautiful even when times are hard.”

“And I'll tell him he makes the surface feel more like home.”

“And I’ll-” He stopped himself short and seem to deflate. “No…” he muttered to himself. “That's too much to ask.”

“What?”

He let go of her hand and stood up, leaving the ghost of his touch behind. “It's just… I've lost so many gelfling I love on this journey…” He leaned on the mantle watched the fireplace as the logs burned and crackled. He went quiet for a long time, seeming to struggle with something in his mind. Finally he whispered her name. “Deet, I would accept one more comforting lie if only you say it.”

“What is it?”

“Could… could you say you love me?” He looked at her and his eyes broke her heart. “You don't have to meet it. It can just be part of our game. But just hearing the words…”

“I can't,” she whispered.

He nodded and turned back to the fire. “I understand.”

She stood up, her heart pounding, and put her hand on his shoulder. “I can't because that is not a lie.”

“Deet..” He turned to her and gently laid his hands on her face, looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time. “It's not a lie from me either.”

He kissed her and she stumbled backward a few steps. Her heart felt like it could burst. She could hardly believe what was happening. She threw her arms around him and kissed him back.

“Deet,” he whispered, drawing back for a breath. “Promise me we're not pretending anymore. Promise me that all you say is true.”

“It's true,” she said breathlessly. “I promise. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They stumbled backward together onto the sofa. She held onto him tight, like he was a dream that would disappear in the morning. He said he loved her and she felt it in her heart that this was true, but she also knew the wine and the pressure of the night could have played with their minds. If not for that, would she have taken her first bold step? Would he have answered her confession with one of his own? Is there any point in wondering now that they were together?

At some point, they lost their balance and came crashing to the floor, bringing the cushions down with them. She was so light with joy, she could do nothing but laugh. When she looked over, she saw him laughing too. She loved everything about his laugh, from the sound, to the sparkle in his eye, to the wrinkle in his nose. She could see why Mira would be cross with him if he stopped forever.

But then his laughter died and she followed his eyes to something glimmering on the floor.

It was a bracelet made from iridescent blue beads. Carefully, he picked it up and ran his fingers gently along the stones, staring at it with a haunted look in his eye.

“What is that?” Deet asked.

“This is Mira’s” he answered, his voice barely above a whisper. “She was looking for this. She thought it’d fallen off on the landstrider ride back to the castle.”

Deet reached out and placed a hand on his shoulder. Mira would always be a shadow over Rian’s life. She knew that he never fully be over her. She didn't expect him to, not after losing her so horribly.

Rian let out a breath and his haunted eyes turned to her. “I- I'm sorry… this doesn't… I still meant everything I said.”

“You miss her,” she said, matter-of-fact. It was the truth. It was how he felt. There was no need to deny it.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered.

“What for?”

“I love you, I do, but…”

“But you're still grieving her,” she finished for him. “You lost someone you loved. You're allowed to miss her.”

He shook his head like he didn’t deserve her words. “You're too kind. I mean it. You're too understanding. You deserve someone who can give you all their heart.”

His words struck her like a bolt and she could feel her heart begin to sink. “Oh…” Maybe we were still just pretending after all.

He saw the sadness on her face and jumped up in a panic. “Not that I don't. I mean… I just… it's complicated.”

“I know…”

He gently took her by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “I love you,” he promised, his sincerity clear in his voice. “I want you to know that wasn't a lie. I don't want to waste what this night could be.”

“Do you truly want to go on?” she asked, keeping her hands in her lap. “Is that what you really feel in your heart?”

He looked away and she watched him struggle in his heart. After a moment, he shut his eyes and shook his head. “I'm just not ready,” he said, letting his hands slide from her shoulders, “not yet.”

“You don't have to be ready.”

His eyes fell on the bracelet once again. “What if we don't get another chance?”

She slipped her hand into his. “What if we do?”

A shy smile broke through. He pushed back her hair and kissed her temple. “One day,” he promised in her ear.

They spent the rest of the evening curled up next to each other, watching the fire crackle and finishing the bottle of wine. It was comfortable and cozy. She felt at home here, not necessarily in Stone-in-the-Wood, but in his arms. He held her close and she nestled into him. Occasionally they stole a light kiss on the hand or cheek.

There was an understanding between them. They loved each other, that much was true, but Rian needed more time. After everything he'd been through, that was to be expected. But he promised her one day, and he was not sort of gelfling to make empty promises. One day his grief will fade into remembrance, the turmoil will pass, and they will be together in every way to gefling in love can.

When sleep began to hover over them, they cleaned up and went to bed. Rian invited her to share his. Neither of them wanted to be alone. This night was particularly treacherous and their bodies provided the warmth and comfort they both craved. They didn't make love that night, but now Deet longed for the day they would. She was confident that promised day would come. With him, she was sure it would be wonderful. And to think, not long ago, the idea of kissing him it seemed impossible.

Deet woke in the night to see Rian sleeping soundly next to her. She smiled. She liked seeing him like this, calm and peaceful. One day, she promised in her heart, you won't have to live your life on the run. You'll be safe and free of fear. And you'll be happy.

She reached out to brush his bangs off with his face, but she saw thin, purple line glow in the dark. She drew back her hand and the glow moved with it. It was her. The glow was inside her veins.

Before she could think on this further, Rian shifted. His eyes fluttered open. “Deet,” he said, his voice heavy with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Go back to sleep,” she whispered. “The suns haven't risen yet.”

“You need to sleep too,” he muttered. “We'll need all our strength tomorrow.”

“Of course, I was just about to.”

A lazy smile spread on his lips. He left her kiss on her nose and drifted back off.

She rolled over and settled back down into her pillow, keeping her hands tucked close to her body. Sleep took her as she hid her worry away in the back of her mind.

The next morning, she woke to the sunlight pouring in from the window. She could feel his arm around her waist, holding her, protecting her. She looked down at her own hands. She didn't see a purple glow from the night before, but she could still feel something stirring deep inside her.

“Are you awake?” he asked.

She rolled over to face him. “Good morning. Did you sleep well?”

“Yes.” He smiled at her, brighter than all three suns. But his face took on the look of a soldier as he remembered what this morning meant. “We should get going. There's a lot to do.”

What if we don't? She thought. What if we stayed here and time stopped? And this moment could last forever?

She nodded. His arm slipped from her waist and he got out of bed, taking the warmth of his body with him.

               “I don’t think you’re a monster.”

He had no idea how badly he needed to hear those words until they touched his ears. But he did. He needed it. He needed, so badly, for someone to listen to him, to talk to him like he wasn’t mad or a murderer. He needed to hear he wasn’t a raving lunatic, that he was worth listening to. Because some small part of him started to wonder…

Somehow the doubts managed to creep in, despite what he knew. He wasn’t sick. He knew what he saw. He knew what the Skeksis did. He had the essence to prove it. But no one would hear it. No one would look at the truth that was right in front of their faces. His own father would rather believe his son was mad than believe he’d been living a lie. Everywhere Rian turned, he found new enemies. In mere days he’d been hunted by the Skeksis, cast out by his clan, and become a pariah among other gelfling.

Wait, days? Had it really only been that long? He counted and it was true. Five days, to be exact. Less than a week ago, he and Mira roved about the castle, practicing their swordsmanship, pilfering treats from the castle kitchen, making Gurjin roll his eyes with their inside jokes and silly nicknames…. This time last week, Mira was probably plotting with Gurjin to play a prank on him. He could imagine those two snickering behind his back, whispering about whatever joke they had up their sleeves. Things seemed so simple then. Mira so full of life and Gurjin always quick with his dry wit.

And now, Gurjin awaited his fate in the clutches of the Skeksis while Rian carried what was left of Mira on his belt. How had everything become so twisted so fast?

              But that Grotton… Deet was her name… She had no intention of hunting or hurting. She meant to help him. And he pulled a sword on her. He could smack himself in the face for that one. Did he apologize? He couldn’t remember. If he ever saw her again, he definitely should.

              She helped him regardless. It was only a campfire, but it meant the world to him. She looked at him without fear, spoke to him as if he were just any other gelfling, and when he gave her the flint stones, she did not flinch from the touch of his hands. The simple exchange had become so strange to him in the last few days, he had to ask. “You’re not scared of me?” he said.

“I don’t think so,” she replied. “Should I be?” She said it so gently, he found himself letting some of the feelings he held inside trickle out.

              “Seems like every other gelfling is. They think that I’m a monster. They’re all too scared to see the truth, even when it’s right in front of them.”

              That’s when she said “I don’t think you’re a monster.” The kindness in her eyes cleared the clouds of fear in his mind. The sincerity of her voice cracked the wall he’d built around his heart on his short journey. Her words warmed and calmed him more than any campfire ever could. In that moment, she seemed the one thing left in the world untouched by darkness. If she were someone else, if she were Mira or Gurjin, he might have crumbled right there, let everything out, released all the emotions pent up inside him. He might have done it even for her, if she stuck around a little longer.

              But her mind shifted in a second. Inspiration struck her, somehow, and she was off like a shot. She ran off to rescue her friend, slapping him with confusion on her way out. He couldn’t blame her. He would have done the same. If he suddenly thought of a way to rescue Gurjin, he’d have torn his own path all the way back to the castle in minutes and anyone unfortunate enough to be behind him would be choking on dust.

              As he rested against a tree trunk for the night, he tried to keep the dark memories at bay. He’d gained far too many in these last few days. They swam through his head, Mira’s murder, Gurjin’s capture, his father’s betrayal, his clan casting him out… He didn’t want them now. If he had to live a nightmare when he was awake, he at least wanted some peace while he slept. He searched his mind for some bright spot in his recent memory and found Deet, the one gelfling who showed him kindness since all this began.

It was only a few minutes, a fleeting moment, but it stuck in his mind. Deet, the kind, the gentle, even brave. If only she’d stayed a bit longer. Maybe she would listen to him, even dreamfast with him. Then he could help her break her friend out of the rascal hole and together they could… do something…

Didn’t she say she had a vision of a coming disaster? Maybe the two were connected. Maybe Thra itself was trying to alert all gelfling, trying to tell them something about the Skeksis. If that were the case, maybe their paths would cross again. And least, he hoped they would.

As sleep began to take him, eyelids too heavy to stay open and body too weary to go on, he thought of her and hoped her kind words would at least bring him a good dream.

[-]

As it turned out, he did see her again, but the reunion was anything but pleasant. And things were actually starting to look up, too.

He wandered into a podling village that night. At the very least, no one would recognize him there, even if he did stand out like a boat in the desert. The place was so alive that night. He’d never seen a podling village before. He only knew the podling who served the Skeksis in the castle, and even then only in passing. The creatures who worked in the castle mainly kept to their own kind and only mixed when necessary. Walking through town, he saw friends running off for a night of debauchery, parents trying to get their excitable children inside for bed, and some podling who maybe had too much to drink, but looked like they were having fun none the less.

He wandered into a tavern and was immediately carried into the joviality. Music filled the room and podling danced and drank without a care. The smell of food and brew wafted into his nose and nostalgia broke on him like an ocean wave. His mind traveled back to better times. As young guards in training, he and Gurjin would apply for leave at the same time, then travel to the closest tavern to drink and dance and flirt with the locals. After he started seeing Mira, she came along too. Their nights of revelry passed in a haze of laughter and warmth. So many great nights were spent this way. There was the time Gurjin started doing his best Ordon impression and literally would not stop until the next morning. Or the time Mira managed to pull him on stage to dance with the band despite his protests. They felt invincible then. They were on top of the world and the worst they had to fear was being reprimanded by their officers. How suddenly and horrifically things change.

In this little podling tavern, worries seemed so far away. One podling lady asked him to dance and another sent him a drink. He turned down both their advances and stayed on the sidelines, but watching the podling continue their party and enjoying themselves put a smile on his face. They were in their own little bubble of revelry and Rian found himself slipping in just a bit. He longed for a return of those days, but he couldn’t fully give into that desire, not with the truth he, alone, now carried. Still, for the moment, he just wanted to blend into the atmosphere of this joyous place and forget.

His moment of mild contentment was cut short when he was accosted by two gelfing, Gurjin’s sister Naia and her Spriton friend Kylan. He knew Naia somewhat from the few times Gurjin invited him to see his home in the Great Smerth and he knew she was fierce. She planned to trade him for Gurjin and he was sure she would be able to drag him back to the castle herself if he couldn’t convince her other wise.

Naia’s plans, however, were also cut short by a Vapran princess of all things. The two argued over who would be the one to turn him in and claim their recompense, Gurjin for Naia and justice for the princess. Rian managed to silence them both by showing them the remainder of Mira’s essence. They stopped and they listened. He could hardly believe it. He continued cautiously, sure at any moment they would stifle his warnings and he’d be back to running, or trying to. But that moment didn’t come. He offered to dreamfast. The Spriton was the first to accept. Then the princess. Finally, Naia agreed.

He showed them. He showed them all that happened: the spitter, Gurjin’s capture, and Mira’s murder. It was harder than he expected. It was one thing to remember, but another to watch it all happen again before his eyes. His hands itched to pull away and end these horrible visions, but he kept the connection. They had to know. Every gelfling had to see the truth of what the Skeksis were doing. Only then could they fight back.

When he opened his eyes again, tears soaked his cheeks. The others shed tears as well. Naia for her brother, the princess for her fallen subject, and Kylan for all gelfling. Then he turned his head to see his father, tears in his eyes as well. “Did you see?” he asked. His father nodded and fragile hope grew slowly in his heart, as if afraid it was not real.

“I’m sorry I didn’t believe you, son,” his father said, and the hope strengthened. His father reached out and hugged him, and Rian felt safe for the first time since this all began. He felt like a childling again. It brought forth memories of times long past, of his father helping him up when he fell or nursing cuts and scrapes. His father was not typically affectionate, especially not after Rian grew into an adult. He wanted Rian to be strong, though he had a soldier’s idea of what that meant. But this moment assured him that his father, despite his flaws, would be there to support him.

They did not have time to dwell on this moment. Within minutes, they formulated a plan and split off on their missions. Naia, Kylan, and Tavra went off to rescue Gerjin while Rian and Ordon traveled to Ha’rar to inform the All-Maudra of the skeksis corruption. He and his father moved swiftly through the wood, but it soon became apparent they were being pursued. A knife flew at them out of the dark and a skeksis, larger and more agile than any Rian knew at the castle, revealed itself.

They tried using their terrain to their advantage. They were smaller and more able to get though the brush, but it was a temporary stall at best. Once they got a moment to catch their breath, they tried an old trick. They split up to take it at two angles. Rian put himself in the open and let it follow him, but the skeksis proved to be even more dangerous than it looked. It moved through trees with the ease of water rushing down a river. Rian tried to keep his eyes on the creature while maintaining distance from its attacks, but it drew attention away from his terrain. A fall down a rocky hill landed him on the edge of a patch of gobbles. The essence flew form his belt, but he managed to save it at the last second.

The skeksis landed behind him. There was no where left to run. The skeksis drew its blade and Rian drew his. Rian took desperate slashes while the skeksis knocked him down with the sheer force of its swing. But Rian got back to his feet every time. Lessons from his father echoed in his mind as he fought. Get back up. Push yourself. Keep going. Harder, faster, smarter, stronger. He managed to lock the Skeksis blade with his own, but the gobbles snapped up at his heels. The Skeksis pushed him pushed him toward the hungry things, but Rian pushed back. Still the skeksis proved more than a match. Just when it seemed the gobbles would get a taste of his boot, his father jumped down from the sky and landed a blow on the skeksis’ skull.

His father landed beside him and they faced the beast side by side. They fought together, in sync with each other. Every lesson he ever learned fell into place. This is what he’d been preparing for all his life. His father knew the time may come when Rian needed to keep fighting beyond exhaustion, beyond fear, beyond insurmountable odds. That’s what he’s done this whole time. His father’s lessons kept him going all while he was a fugitive. They kept him alive and out of skeksis hands. Above all, his father taught him to fight for what’s right, and to keep fighting until the battle was won. Now, they would fight together.

But victory, tonight, was out of their reach. They locked blades with the skeksis again, but this time the skeksis knew pushing would get him nowhere. They dug their feet in and would not be moved. The Skeksis landed a kick to his father’s head and Rian was swept back with it. Blades flew out of their hands and disappeared in a haze of gobble teeth. Rian was blown back, but mostly unharmed. His father, however, was knocked out cold.

“Father!” Rian called as the skeksis approached, blades glistening against the moonlight, but he did not stir.

“Father!” he tried again. The skeksis hovered over them, blades poised to strike. Still, his father laid, barely moving.

“Father!” he cried one last time. The skeksis swung down and Rian stared up at the blade that was sure to be his end.

“Not! My! Son!” his father roared, leaping into the air. He knocked the skeksis off his feet and they fell together into the gobble patch. Both screamed as the gobbles devoured them bite by bite. Rian screamed as well; screams of horror and despair. He could do nothing. He was right there. He was a trained soldier, a castle guard. He was young and strong and agile. And yet, he could do nothing.

“Rian!” his father called with his last bit of strength. “Be brave, Rian.” It was the last thing he said before disappearing below the valley of snarling teeth.

“No! Father!” Rian stumbled to his feet and rushed forward, no plan in his mind. His only thought was of getting his father out, though he knew it was too late. It didn’t matter. If there was any chance of saving his father, the greedy things could have his life too.

“No, Rian! Stop!” a familiar voice begged. Arms grabbed him and pulled him back. “Stop, it’s too dangerous.”

He tore his eyes away to see Deet, clutching his arm. She was there. Suddenly, she was there. Why was she there? He barely knew who she was. Why should she be there for him? Was she simply that kind? That she rushed to help a near stranger? It was all so strange and confusing, but he didn’t have room in his mind to question it further.

Her podling friend was at his back, holding his other arm. Together, they sorrowfully watched the gobbles begin to settle. He heard the podling whisper “aminya” to her. He knew a little podling. Aminya meant friend, but in certain contexts could also mean “angel.” Maybe the podling was right. Maybe that’s exactly what she was. A friend and an angel all in one.

The gobbles went still and any last shred of hope he had died. Everything inside him was full to bursting. Sorrow, fear, grief, rage, guilt all mixed and stirred inside him, threatening to spill out. “He’s gone,” he said, finally. “He’s gone.” The words came out in a gasp. His voice had gone raspy and tears ran like rivers down his cheeks. It was time now. He was ready. He was going to break down right here, right now in the arms of a stranger. Everything raged inside him. He felt he could scream all night, or possibly the rest of his life. If he couldn’t scream, he would die. It was all too much for any gelfling to bare.

Then the gobbles stirred again. He looked up. A fool’s hope appeared in his chest. Father? But as soon as rumbling began below the surface, he knew it was not so. He didn’t have time to react, save to push Deet and the podling away, before he was snatched up by the skeksis.

[-]

Dib felt the familiar burning sensation in his eyes as he stared at his monitors. Zim had been relatively quiet for quite some time now, three years to be exact. He didn’t disappear completely, like he had right before the Florpus Hole incident. Dib still caught him moving about his house, talking to strange aliens on his tele-communication device, and building dangerous-looking machinery. Despite Zim’s clear activity, outright plans to take over the Earth seemed to cease. Or at least Zim stopped gloating about them. Dib noticed these changes and decided they were concerning enough to require constant surveillance, but stable enough that he could step away from his screens every now and then.

As his eyes drifted across the screens, they landed on a haphazard stack of college brochures resting on his desk. Top universities from all over the world have been sending him these since preschool. He suspected college recruiters everywhere put his name on their lists the second they heard the world-renowned Professor Membrane had an offspring. They badgered him and Gaz for as long back as he could remember. They typically threw at least one ivy-league brochure in the trash every week. Although now, he had to start keeping them. Those recruiters must have started salivating as soon as his SAT scores were in. Every school wanted to be able to say they educated the children of Professor Membrane.

At least he didn’t have to deal with all the college recruitment events he knew were going on over at the High Skool. He and Gaz left mainstream education behind years ago after convincing their dad to let them homeschool. It wasn’t that hard. All they had to do was sit their dad down and show him their curriculums. His only condition was that they keep their grades up and take the most advanced programs available. It turned out to be a mutually beneficial arrangement. Dib & Gaz were learning the advanced science their father wanted them to, and they never had to set foot in the Skool again. This arrangement ended early for Dib, as he completed his senior year before his former classmates reached midterms. Of course, this only made the college recruiters even more ravenous.

Well, they were going to have to wait. High school may be over for him, but now he was taking a gap year. He told his father he wanted the time to figure out which branch of science he wanted to study. This was only half-true. Really, he just needed to figure out what to do with his life, period.

His child-hood dream of being a paranormal investigator grew less and less appealing as he saw what the field had become. The Swollen Eyeball network had gone down hill since Agent Darkbootie went off the grid to live amongst the sasquatch. Standards dropped to the Marianas Trench. Now, they let in riff-raff like flat-earthers and hollow-mooners. Uncovering the truth didn’t seem important to them anymore. It was all about who could come up with the most convoluted conspiracy, regardless of evidence or even common sense. Dib wanted to uncover the mysteries of the universe, to expand the knowledge of the human race. Knowledge didn’t seem to factor in at all anymore, not so long as the theory was sexy.

As for Dib’s work on Zim, he had to admit, it’d become mundane sometimes. He could only watch Zim binge-watch tv so many times before accepting there was nothing more to it. Hell, sometimes Dib would find himself watching whatever was on the tv more than he watched Zim. He’d sometimes go days without any notable movement. A few weeks ago, however, remarkable activity breathed new life into Dib’s efforts.

Currently, Zim’s ship sat haphazardly parked, or rather crashed, on the front lawn. Dib stared at it, waiting for Zim to notice the state of his space craft.

“Still monitoring Zim?” He heard Gaz say from the door.

“Always,” Dib replied, eyes still glued to the screen.

Gaz rolled her eyes and walked into his room. “You sure you need to? He’s been pretty quiet lately.”

“He knows I’m watching.”

“Okay, TJ Eckleburg,” Gaz said, leaning on his desk and popping open a soda.      

“huh?”

“Read a book.”

“Whatever,” he groaned, his eyes flickering from one monitor to another. “The point is, quietness means nothing. Remember the time he disappeared but it turned out he was just hiding in the toilet?”

“You mean the time you let him hijack Membrane Labs, kidnap dad, and almost send the planet through a florpus hole?” She took a long sip of her soda. “Yeah, I remember.”

“And what about the time he left for weeks, then just showed up one day and broke my camera?”

“Oh yeah, that. I wouldn’t call breaking your camera ultimate evil, though, especially if you were shoving it in his face. You never did find out where he went, did you?”

“No, but there’s definitely something going on now,” Dib said as he opened his laptop. “I was going over the surveillance footage from last night and look.”

He brought up a clip he saved from the footage. It showed Tak parking a boxy, gray ship in Zim’s back yard and sneaking into his base. After a few minutes, the rooftop hanger opened. She flew Zim’s ship out, dumped it on the front lawn, and parked her own ship back in the hanger.

“Is that Tak?” Gaz asked, watching the clip.

“Yeah, I saw her on the cameras a few weeks ago. She broke into Zim’s base and left after about an hour, but this time she hasn’t come out.”

“So why aren’t you going over to investigate?” Gaz asked, returning to her casual lean.

“I can’t just rush in without a plan on something this huge!” he retorted. “I have to figure out what they’re doing first.”

Gaz shrugged. “Maybe she killed him and took over his base.”

“It’s not that easy,” Dib explained. “Zim’s computers are programed to only respond to him.”

“I used it once. The Tak hotdog thing, remember?”

“That was different. Zim let us in semi-willingly. Unless Tak found a way to override the security features…”

“Maybe she’s using Zim’s corpse as a meat-puppet to control the computer.”

Dib cringed. “Uh, gross.” Even he wasn’t sure he could stomach that idea. He returned to his monitors and saw a shadow move in Zim’s living room. “Wait! I just saw something!”

They both leaned into the screen as Dib zoomed in the camera on the window. Through it, they could see Zim’s robot servant sitting on the couch, eating snacks.

“That’s just Zim’s dumb robot watching tv,” Gaz said.

Dib threw his hands up. “Oh come on!” The robot again?! He’d watched this thing gobble down nachos on this couch a million times. Why did everything look so normal over there? “There has to be something going on. Is Tak hiding? Did Zim capture her? Are they planning something together? I have to know!”

“My best guess?”

“You’ve got a theory?” Dib asked, eagerly swiveling his chair around to face her. “Let’s hear it!”

“Tak’s playing the trombone and Zim’s slamming the oven door.” Gaz smirked, looking annoyingly proud of herself.

Dib’s face fell into a scowl. “Thanks Gaz, very insightful.” He sharply turned his chair back toward the monitors.

“You’re going to be up here obsessing all day, aren’t you?” she asked.

“Probably.”

“Fine.” Gaz downed the rest of her drink, tossed the can in the trash, and started toward the door. “I was thinking about watching that new Skinwalker Ranch documentary tonight, but I guess you’ll be busy.”

She walked out, leaving Dib alone with his screens. He scanned the feed in front of him, all inactive save for Zim’s snacking robot. He had been wanting to check out that documentary, but keeping an eye on Zim was more important, especially after this recent development. His eyes landed on the robot again, who was now sloppily sucking down a giant slushee. Dib sighed and checked the rest of his cameras.

Still nothing.

[-]

Zim emerged from his labs after another night of testing and research. His latest project was going well so far, despite the recent interference. No doubt, his leaders would be pleased. He went to the kitchen for a well-deserved soda and, whistling, headed to the living room to check on Gir.

As he sipped, he noticed something large and purple out the window. When he went to look, he nearly spit out his drink. His voot sat crashed in the front yard for all the Urth to see.

“Gir!” he shouted, jumping around to face his robot. “What is my ship doing out there?!”

“I dunno,” Gir said, munching away on his snacks.

“Well, if you didn’t do it, who did?”

“Uh, Zim,” the computer interrupted. “It was probably the intruder.”

“What intruder?!” Zim demanded, stomping into the middle of the room. “Why didn’t you alert me?”

“Uh, I did.”

The show Gir was watching snapped off the tv and the screen now showed security footage from the previous evening. Zim and Gir sat on the couch with a bowl of snacks.

“Sir, I have detected a-”

“Not now, computer,” TV Zim said, “Jessica is about to reveal the murderer.”

“But this really is urgent.”

“Of course!” TV Zim shouted, leaning off the couch. “It was the bus driver, seeking revenge for his fallen offspring!”

“Zim, there is an intruder in the-”

TV Zim jumped to his feet. “What? No!”

“Exactly!”

“It’s not the bus driver after all!” TV Zim declared. “I knew it!”

“No you didn’t,” TV Gir chimed in.

“There’s too much time left in the episode. Jessica still has 15 minutes to find the killer. Now, which of these smelly bus-humans is the real culprit?”

“Ugh, fine, whatever.”

The security feed cut out and Gir’s show came back on the tv. Zim growled and pressed his palms into his forehead. Curse that Jessica Fletcher and her engaging small-town mysteries! If that show hadn’t been canceled Urth decades ago, he would have ensured that was the last murder she ever wrote.

“Computer! Is the intruder still in the base?”

“Yes.”

“Locate them.”

After a few seconds of processing sounds, Computer answered. “Irken biosignature located in the storage room.”

Irken, he was pretty sure he knew what that meant. Zim stormed over to the trashcan/elevator. “Computer, take me to the storage room. I’ll show Tak how to sneak into my base.”

“You’re going to show her how to sneak into your base?”

“Or how not to sneak… Or what happens when you sneak… or… Ugh you know what I meant!” Zim jumped into the elevator. “Just take me there!”

[-]

Finding Tak wasn’t as hard as he expected. As soon as he made it down to the storage room, Zim was greeted by the sound of something metal clanging to the floor. From there, all he had to do was follow the trail of crushed cans. At the end, he found Tak sitting on the floor, surrounded by discarded cans and bottles. She barely took notice of him as she downed another drink.

“You!” He shouted, pointing an accusing finger at her. “You have some nerve coming back here after… whatever it is you did! I spent days running diagnostics, trying to figure out what it is you tampered with.”

“Eh, who cares what I did?” Tak slurred, tearing her mouth away from the bottle. “I’m back on Urth. Life is empty and destiny is a cruel joke.”

“What are you going on about? And what is all this?” he said, trudging through her mess. His foot kicked a glass bottle which was larger than the rest. Picking it up, he recognized the fancy Irken label. “This is my gingzor!” he gasped. “I’ve been saving this!”

“You can get more,” Tak said with a burp. “Did you know you can get this stuff on Urth without showing identification? Idiots.”

“Have you been in my storage room, drowning yourself in gingzor all night?”

“Yup, why not? As good a way to waste my meaningless life as any.” She looked down the neck of the bottle in her hand. “Empty, sad,” she pouted as she tossed it over her shoulder.

“What are you talking about?”

“Just my recent discovery that my entire life is a lie,” she sighed. “Hey, wanna watch me laser-shot this whole six pack?”

Tak held up a pack of green cans by their plastic connector. She shot a hole in the bottom of one with a laser pistol, then started chugging the drink out from the bottom.

Zim curled a finger around his chin as he pondered the sight before him. This was very unlike Tak. He’d had enough encounters with her to know what to expect. Proud declarations of her superiority, vows for bloody vengeance, maybe a bit of maniacal cackling… that was Tak. She even had all night to attempt to kill him and, instead, spent it swimming in a pool of gingzor and self-pity. This…this was not Tak. He wondered what could possibly bring her to such a lowly state. Then it hit him.

“Ah, I see what’s happened,” he declared. “You finally realized you were never meant to be an invader and that knowledge has sent you down a spiraling pit of despair. Go on, let it out. Zim can offer his pity.”

Tak’s eyes narrowed. She plucked a can off of the pack, shook it up, and sprayed it in Zim’s face. Zim let out a yelp as he was doused in the drink.

“You know, Zim, I didn’t know you were so sentimental.”

“Sentimental?” he grumbled, rubbing the gingzor out of his eyes

“I found your secret stash.” Tak smirked as she pulled out a box labeled ZIM’S PRIVATE STUFF (GIR DON’T TOUCH).  She reached into the box and took out a CD case titled Best of Queen. “Looks like someone’s a fan of Urth royalty,” she said as she tossed it in the air.

Zim scrambled to catch it before it smashed on the ground. “That is a music group, not royalty and-”

“Oh what’s this?” she asked, pulling out his sleeved blanket. “Some sort of backward robe?” She threw that on Zim’s head, then held up his fuzzy boots. “And what are these?”

Zim snatched the blanket off and dropped it on the ground. “It gets very cold on Urth and-”

“Guess I can expect softness from someone who kept their cadet badge.” Tak held up the pink, metal circle with the Irken insignia emblazed on it. His heart beat just a second faster.

“Enough!” he shouted, swiping the badge out of her hands. “You have no business going through my stuff!”

Tak made a dismissive sound and waved her arm. “Pfft, I’ve already seen the inside of your brain. What’s the harm in looking through a few boxes?”

“Eh? My brain? Wha?” His hands flew to his back as he realized what she just admitted. “My PAK! You tampered with my PAK!”

“For the last time, I didn’t tamper, I ANALYZED!” she screamed in his face.

“Uh… this was the first time I mentioned it… Wait! It doesn’t matter! You committed a capital offence!”

“No, tampering is a capitol offence. Analyzing isn’t technically against the law.” She let out a bitter chuckle. “Although, it probably should be if they didn’t want me to see what I saw.”

“Eh? What?”

“I know something you don’t know…” she sing-songed.

“What? What is it?” He demanded, grabbing her by the shirt. “Tell me!”

“Guess who’s defective…” she sing-songed again in that annoying, giddy tone. “You! And me! And Skoodge! And a whole bunch of other people probably! And it doesn't matter at all!” She laughed. “Nothing matters! Nothing is real!” She laughed harder and threw her arm around Zim’s shoulders. “I don't even want to kill you anymore because it be so pointless. Why put in the effort? We're just walking talking food for a giant, horrible, tentacle-y, blob-monster-god-thing”

“What blob-monster-god-thing?” He inquired, pealing Tak’s arm off of himself with a sneer.  

“You know it as the control brains.” She smirked. There was something bitter and smug in it.

“Control brains?” He gasped. “You're speaking treason.”

“Eah-yup!” she declared, popping open another drink.

He desperately rubbed his temples as this new information buzzed around in his brain. She couldn’t be serious. She couldn’t be. “This is a trick,” he accused, eyes darting around, looking for hidden cameras. “You're trying to get me to say something treasonous so you can record it and show it to the Tallest.”

“Nope, no trick,” she said. Her voice was unsettlingly casual. “I went all the way to Refierencee to find out Irk is nothing but the plaything of a life sucking horror blob. Don't believe me? Here.” She tapped a spot on her PAK and a cable flew into her hands. “Plug me in and check my memory drive. See if I'm lying.”

She waggled the cable at him, daring him to take it. There had to be a reason she was doing all this. She must have some sort of ulterior motive. Why else would she make up such an outlandish lie? Unless, it wasn’t a lie...

“Fine,” he said, snatching the cable, “but I warn you, I've upgraded my computer security. So if you try to infect my base with a virus, it won't work.”

Tak shrugged and went back to her drink.

Something was wrong here, very wrong. Whether it was the truth or just a nefarious plot, there was only one way to get to the bottom of it.

[-]

Tak sat on a box, her PAK plugged into the computer while Zim reviewed her memory drive on his computer screen. He played the Refirencee memories again. Was this the 3rd or 4th time? He couldn't remember. He scanned each frame with a sharp eye. There had to be something else here, some sort of tell that this was a trick, just another one of Tak’s schemes. There was no way this could be true.

“Watch as many times as you want,” Tak said, opening yet another can. “It's not gonna change.”

“You tampered with your memory drive,” Zim said matter-of-fact. Even if he hadn’t found an inconsistency yet, that had to be the case. It was the only explanation. Well, not the only one…

“Nope,” she answered. The assurance in her voice was grating. “Have your computer check. I dare you.”

Zim glanced up. “Computer…”

“No signs of tampering detected.”

“You see…” She was so smug. He hated it.

“Then this Krislotch person is a liar.”

“And has an amazing amount of free time on his hands,” Tak retorted.

“There must be something else!” Zim slammed his hands on the control panel. “Some other explanation! If it is true that means-”

“That our people are slaves and our entire society is a lie? Why do you think I keep drinking?” She asked, knocking her drink back.

“Enough sass, you talking bottle of gingzor!” He shouted, whirling his chair around to face her. He jumped to his feet and put an accusing finger in her face. “You expect me to believe this? That the Control Brains are actually-”

“A giant parasite feeding off the life force of our entire race? Yes! Exactly! What aren't you getting?” She jumped to her feet as well and advanced toward him, crushing a can in her hands. “It's got its tentacles in everything. It controls every aspect of our lives and it'll continue to grow bigger and bigger until that's all there is. Irk doesn't exist, Zim!” She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him in. “In our lifetime it never has! There is only it and everyone: the invaders, the foot soldiers, the janitors, the food service drones, even the tallest! We're all just slaves to the glory of the parasite.”

Tak broke out in a wild cackle as tears began leaking from her eyes. Her fingers slipped from Zim’s clothes and she doubled over, hysterical laughter echoing around the room. Zim could only watch and puzzle over her conduct. This behavior was unbecoming of a proper Irken, especially not an elite as Tak fancied herself. Maniacal laughter was fine, sure, but this? Would she degrade herself so much for an act? He thought not.

“What now?”

“It's just so funny,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “I mean, we work all our lives to serve the empire. You and I even remained loyal in exile. And when I learned about this thing, how our people were in danger, my first thought was ‘I have to stop this thing.’ And now,” she let out a burst of cackling, “I'm an enemy of the state! And I have to hide in your base of all places and the first person I can tell about any of this is you.” Her laughter began again in full and it sent her to the floor. “You see how that's funny?”

“Uh, no.”

“Oh.” She calmed down enough to take a few deep breaths. “Am I laughing or crying?”

“Uh, laughing I think?”

“Good, good, 'cause this really is funny,” she said, reaching over and grabbing another can. “Like a great, big joke. My life, my existence… it's all a big, cosmic… what's that human phrase? Fuck you!” Her arms opened to the ceiling. “It's a big, cosmic fuck you!”

Jerry had just smashed Tom’s foot with a hammer when Dib realized he was watching the robot’s cartoons more than he was watching the house. He’d been staring at these screens all day. Tak hadn't shown up at all. Zim did turn up for a few minutes, but that was hours ago and he hadn't come back since. There were no fights, no screams, no explosions, or at least not that Dib could see. The only noteworthy thing that happened was Zim choking on a soda. Was there really nothing going on?

His eyes drifted to the clock. 6:30 already? He'd just wasted most of his day watching old cartoons through a security feed. His stomach rumbled reminding him he hadn't eaten since noon.

Dib looked back at his monitors. Tom chased Jerry around the room. Jerry ducked into his mousehole and Tom rammed his face into the wall. The robot laughed. Dib’s stomach rumbled again. The idea of a break started to sound appealing.

“Hey Gaz,” he called hitting the record button, “You hungry?”

“Yeah,” she called back.

“You want to order a pizza?” He slid off his chair and started out of the room. “I was thinking we could have dinner while we watched that documentary.”

He headed downstairs and found Gaz in the kitchen. She already had the phone in one hand in the Pizza Factory menu in the other. “I'm thinking Peppers and onions,” she said, not dialing the phone.

“How about sausage?

Her face twisted in disgust. “No pork.”

“Okay, fair enough,” he conceded. That shadow hog thing still weighed on his conscience. “Cheddar cheese? Oh, and get garlic bread.”

Gaz nodded and put the phone to her ear.

Dib smiled. It actually felt good to be out of that room. This break would be good for him. He’d get some food in his stomach and watch something he’d been waiting to see. Then he could get back to surveying the base later. Besides, with the camera recording, he wouldn’t miss a thing, if anything even happened.  After all, he got nothing all day. What could he miss in a few hours?

[-]

Gir laughed every time the cat on TV let out that loud yelp. He liked the yelling. It reminded him of someone. And it was funny.

As he laughed, another robot walked into the room. Gir looked over. A new friend? Maybe. Did master build it? Nah, he would have said something. Wait, he remembered this thing. This was Tak’s robot. What was it doing here? Oh yeah, they friends now. She gave him a present. They must be over to play.

“Want some nachos?” Gir asked.

Tak’s robot lifted its head and looked curiously at the nachos. What was wrong? Maybe it didn't know what nachos were for.

“You do it like this,” he said stuffing a handful in his mouth.

Tak’s robot just stood there. It still didn't get it. “Here, let me help.” Gir got off the couch, walked over to the other robot, and smushed a handful of nachos in its face.

Tak’s robot wiped the nachos away and shook off the remaining cheese. It’s eyes narrowed and glowed red. Oh it looked mad. Maybe it would start yelling at him. But it didn’t.

Oh wait! He got it now! “Hey, you don't gots no mouth,” Gir said, leaning real close to get a good look at the robot’s face. “That's not right. You need a mouth for nachos.”

This was a problem. If it was going to be his friend, it needed a mouth for snacks. “Oh, I know!” Gir screamed. He ran for the trash can/elevator. He'd seen master go down this way earlier. Master could build a mouth. “This way! This way!” He dove head first down the elevator shaft and Tak’s robot followed him.

[-]

“No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it's not!”

“Yes, it is!”

“No, it's not! It's not!” Tak shouted. The can in her hand spilled gignzor on the ground as she gestured wildly. “You cannot tell me! You cannot tell me Foodcourtia is worse than Dirt!”

“It is! It definitely is!” Zim yelled back, punctuating each sentence by slapping the computer control panel.

“It's definitely not!” She slapped the control panel as well. “Dirt is a garbage planet made out of garbage! Everywhere you go, it's garbage! Everywhere you look, it's garbage! You close your eyes and, still, all you can see is garbage!”

“But there's no customers! Zim countered, flinging his empty can across the room. “No one screaming at you all day! No one yelling because their order is late, or cold, or they got the wrong thing! No one saying they want blogrings on the side, but they won't tell you on the side of what. But when you guess, they start yelling! And you're trying every side you can think of, but nothing works! And sometimes they still haunt your thoughts late at night!” He grabbed Tak’s shoulders and shook her. “What side did he want, Tak? What side did he want?!” He kept shaking until she slapped him away.

The sound of a “Whee-hoo” came from the ceiling. It got progressively louder until Gir splat-landed face-first on the floor. Tak’s Sir unit slinked gracefully down and landed beside him.

Gir sprang to his feet. “My friend needs a nacho hole,” he said pointing at the other robot.

“MiMi,” Tak commanded, “Get away from that pile of junk.” The SIR unit nodded and slink to her side.

“Hey!” Zim pointed an accusing finger at her. “You don't get to call my Gir junk!”

“Yeah!” Gir screamed.

Tak smirked. “I built Mimi myself out of spare parts and she’s still more advanced than the standard SIR units issued to the invaders.”

“Well I got a mouth!” Gir shot back.

“Yeah!” Zim shouted. “Hey wait, does your SIR unit talk?”

“No,” Tak sighed. “I couldn't find a functioning vocal chip on Dirt.”

Suddenly, Zim’s computer made an alert sound. “Sir,” computer said, “there is an incoming transmission from the Massive.”

Zim's hands flew to his head. “Oh no, the Tallest can't see me drunk.”

“The Tallest can't see me at all,” Tak added.

“Well, get out of frame, then.”

Tak scooped up Mimi and they ducked under the control panel. Zim tried shaking a bit of his drunkenness off. It didn’t seem to do much, but he answered the call anyway. An Irken in a navigator’s uniform appeared on the screen.

“Um, Invader Zim?” the navigator said, putting a strange emphasis on Zim’s title.

“Yeah,” Heh, he said ‘invader’ funny… Wait a second. “Hey, you're not The Tallest. What is this?”

“The Tallest are very busy at the moment,” the navigator replied. “A traitor has been identified.”

“Traitor? Pfft…” Zim waved his hand. “I don't know anything about a traitor, definitely not one with any conspiracies.” I am nailing this nonchalant performance.

“Uh, you wouldn't.” The navigator said, raising an eyelid. “A notice went out to all Irkens on planet or in the Armada. I've been tasked with informing all those out-of-range to be on the lookout for her.” He paused. “What was that about a conspiracy?”

“Nothing. I said I didn't know anything about a conspiracy, remember?” Totally nailing it.

“Yeah, but why would you bring it up in the first place?”

Shoot. He was asking too many questions. Better get rid of him. “Yes, yes. Anyway, I got your message,” Zim dismissed, reaching to cut off the transmission. “I'll be sure to look out for Tak. Now you can move on to-”

“Wait, I never said the traitor's name.”

His hand froze. Fuck “Uh, yes you did.”

“No, I didn't.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No. I didn't.”

“Yes, you did.”

“No, I didn't!” The navigator shouted impatiently. “And I can playback this conversation to prove it.”

Zim started to sweat as he contemplated his next move. Before he could say anything, however, Gir dove under the control panel.

“Found you!” Gir squealed.

“What was that?” The navigator asked.

“My SIR unit,” Zim answered. “He lost his… uh… contact lenses!”

“SIR units don't wear contact lenses.”

“Your turn to hide.” Gir said. Zim could hear a scuffle going on.

“No, stop.” Tak whisper-shouted. “Stop pushing me, you metallic hunk of-” Tak flew out from under the control panel and landed on the floor with an “omf.”

No, no, no, no, no! Zim slapped a big fake grin on his face. “As I was saying, I'll be on the lookout for that traitor and I’ll get back to you if I see her. Bye!” Zim cut the transmission and the screen went black. He let out a long breath. “I don't think they suspect a thing.”

Tak got up and brushed herself off. She glared daggers at him and snarled, a retort forming on her lips. Before she could speak, the entire base shook violently, knocking them off their feet.

“What's happening?” Zim struggled to stand up, but another shake sent him back to the floor. The base continued to rumble and, with each new quake, the room shrank in size, along with the tech in it.

“You idiot!” Tak shouted, managing to pull herself up. “It's cubification!”

Zim blinked. “Uhh…”

She scowled and rolled her eyes.” When The Tallest believe an invasion has been compromised beyond salvation, the remotely cubify the base, destroying all evidence and crushing any organic matter left inside.”

“I knew that.” Zim jumped to his feet. “Why are you explaining things I already know?”

“You moron, were going to be squashed!” Tak screamed, grabbing the front of his tunic. “And I refuse to let my cells mix with yours!” She threw him down and called, “Mimi!”

Tak’s loyal SIR unit slid up to her side. Mimi saluted, wrapped her arms around Tak, and flew them both up the elevator shaft.

“Gir!” Zim commanded. “Get us out of here!”

Gir bounced up. His eyes flashed red as he gave a salute. He then ignited the propulsion jets in his feet, flung Zim onto his back, and rocketed them up the elevator shaft.

As they flew to the house level, the walls around them closed in at a steadily rapid rate. It became a tight squeeze toward the top. Zim’s waist became stuck in the trash can lid for a moment before he managed to wiggle out.

By the time he made it to the living room, the ceiling was only a few feet overhead. Tak pulled at the doorknob with all her weight, but it wouldn't budge. She let out a cry of frustration and her laser cutters unfurled from her PAK. The lasers on all four tips joined into one large square of energy which blasted a hole in the wall. However, that hole shrunk just as quickly as the rest of the house.

Tak dove through and MiMi followed. Zim looked around for his service unit who was busy giggling and bouncing off of the encroaching walls. “Gir, quickly!” he commanded, pointing to the hole. Gir launched himself through, squealing. Zim followed after, feeling the ceiling brush the tip of his antenna on his way out.

He landed on his hands and knees on the lawn. Once he gathered himself, he turned to watch as his beautiful base crushed itself into a cube about the size of an Urth child’s alphabet block.

Zim’s mouth hung open. “Six years on this miserable ball of filth,” he murmured, scooting up to the teal cube on his knees. “Now look at you.” He flopped face-first on the yard and made pitiful noises. Gir sat down next to him and patted him on the back.

“Get over it, Zim,” Tak grumbled, activating her human disguise. “At least you still have a ship. Mine’s crushed in there with everything else.”

“Everything?” Zim snapped up. “Wait, where’s Minimoose?”

“NYAH,” Minimoose squeaked as he floated into Zim’s line of vision.”

Zim jumped up and threw his arms around his creation. “Yeah! Minimoose! I knew I shouldn't have to worry about you.”

“Quit hugging the moose, Zim,” Tak snapped. “In case you haven't noticed, we have a real problem here. We're stuck on this dirtball with no shelter, no resources, nowhere to go, and we're out of gingzor.”

“Yeah, well, whose fault is that?” Zim retorted, stomping up to his ship. He reached in, pulled out a spare dog suit, and flung it out Gir. He then began applying his human disguise and he continued. “My base would be fine right now if they didn't catch you hiding out in there.”

“Well they wouldn't have caught me if you could control your sorry excuse for a SIR unit,” Tak shot back.

“Hey!” Zim jumped down from his ship. “Gir is a specialized unit! Operating him takes a deft hand. Simply shouting out commands won't do.”

“why? because then he'd work properly?” Tak smirked.

Zim let out an exaggerated gasp. “How dare?! I just lied my butt off for you and you repay me by insulting my Gir?”

“Oh yes,” she scoffed, “thank you so much for blurting out my name before they even told you who the traitor was. You are a true master of deception.”

Zim put on a smug, mocking grin. “You're welcome.”

Tak growled and kicked nearby rock into the street. After letting out an huff, she turned back to him. “Well, you've been on this planet longer than any other advanced species. Where is a good place to lay low?”

Zim thought about this as he picked up the teal cube and turned it around in his hands. His base wasn't completely destroyed. Everything shrunk as it was being cubified. Perhaps it was all still in there. If he could reverse the effect… “It'll have to be a place with access to a lab. With the proper tools, I could possibly find a way to get my base up and running again.”

“Oh! I know! I know!” Gir squealed, jumping on Zim’s back.

“No, Gir. We're not doing that.”

“But… but…”

“No, Gir,” Zim said again, crossing his arms. “I won't allow my pride to sink that low.”

“But we've done it before,” Gir pointed out.

“Hmm? What's he talking about?” Tak asked sternly.

“Doesn't matter.” Zim answered, waving a dismissive hand at her. “It's not an option.”

“Yes it is,” Gir argued.

“Zim…” Tak growled, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him up to her eye level. “Where is it?”

[-]

Gaz flipped open the pizza box and steam rose off the hot, fresh cheese. Dib reached into the takeout bag. The garlic bread was still hot, too. He bit into a slice, enjoying the warm, steamy goodness and hoping the documentary wouldn't bring up any cow disembowelment's while he was eating.

This was shaping up to be a pretty good evening. Good documentary, good food, and he and his sister were just chilling together. There were no fights, no aliens (except the ones in the documentary, of course), no plans for world domination, no nothing. Just pizza, sibling bonding, and the dulcet tones of the narrator explaining bizarre happenings in Utah.

Tak activated her Vortian disguise before she even entered the solar system. When dealing with the Meekrob, an Irken could never be too careful, especially after Tenn’s disappearance. Word around the stars was that her life signal suddenly went out one day. No one knew what happened. Apparently, the Tallest hadn’t received ant worrying reports. Her last transmission was a routine observation update. She wasn’t making any risky plans and she didn’t have a near-discovery. She was there one minute and gone the next. Soon afterward, the Meekrob put out a warning declaring that any Irken caught within their planet’s range would be killed on sight. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who was responsible for her disappearance.

It was a shame, really. Tak was a few levels ahead of Tenn in training, but she heard good things. Any invader assigned to Meekrob must be talented. They were, after all, Irk’s most formidable enemies. Safe to assume they had done her in. It was a tragedy that someone so young and bright had been cut down in her prime, but life as an invader was fraught with peril, at least so long as the enemy was intelligent.

Finally, they approached the planet Refirencee and, after going through a check point, she docked her ship in a public hanger. Before exiting her ship, she looked at MiMi. An information retrieval unit would be especially advantageous on this mission, but the engineering was too obviously Irken. “MiMi, cat disguise.” MiMi saluted and her holo-cloaking devise activated. Tak looked her over an nodded her approval. They were lucky an Urth cat looked so similar to a Vortian jelicle.

Satisfied with their cover, they hopped out of their ship and headed for the transport bay. There, they found a digital sign displayed the departure times for bullet trains which took the planet’s patrons to different sections of the massive data base. The trains were broken down by planet and the one for the Irken information section left in only a few minutes.

As they waited for their train, Tak noticed a few patrons looking at her. She tried to keep her eyes on the track before her and ignored their stares as she felt a light pounding in her chest.

One of the patrons approached her. “Um, excuse me,” he said, eyes turning to MiMi.

Tak shot him a glare. “What?”

“I’m not sure they allow pets.”

“She’s an emotional support jelicle,” Tak said. A spark flashed across her eyes and the patron’s face went blank for a second.

“Right,” he answered, almost robotically. “Sorry I bothered you.”

The train arrived and Tak and MiMi boarded. They took a seat and the train took off at break-neck speed. They arrived at the Irken section in a matter of minutes. She stepped off the train to find her self in a large, domed building, surrounded by towers of data cartridges. Sorting droids buzzed about, arranging cartridges to their rightful places. In the center of it all, a librarian sat at a large, circular information desk.

“Excuse me,” Tak said, approaching the desk. “Where can I find information on the cyber age?” It would be a good start. The invention of the PAK kicked off the era.

“That will be section 8792,” the librarian answered. “I’ll call you a browsing cart.”

The librarian pushed a button and a cart zipped up to the desk. It was just a flat, hovering rectangle with a handrail and a control board at the front. Tak and MiMi hopped on and she entered the section number into the control panel.

“By the way,” Tak said, turning to the librarian, “forget I was here.” The spark flashed across her eyes again and the Librarian’s face went blank. Tak hit the start button and her cart zipped off. She arrived at her destination within seconds.

“MiMi, find a data console about PAK invention,” Tak ordered as they stepped off the cart. MiMi saluted and slinked through the aisles. While she waited, Tak sat down at a computer desk. In a few minutes, MiMi returned with a data console marked “Irken Cyber Age Vol. 1”. Tak took and plug it into the computer. She scrolled through the text, skimming over most of it. The information mainly consisted of things any smeet would know. After the control brains were built, they gave the scientists the idea to build the PAKs. These PAKs efficiently distributed Irken knowledge and ushered in a glorious new age of blah, blah, blah…

Yes, every Irken alive knew their basic history. But what about the PAKs themselves? How were they built? How did they work? Tak was beginning to wonder if this was a waste of time. After all, the key to PAK mechanics was Irk’s most guarded secret. She shouldn’t expect to find that information here. In fact, she should be glad that knowledge hadn’t fallen into enemy hands.

She continued to scroll and a picture caught her eye. It showed the five engineers in charge of the PAK project. The face of one particular engineer kept glitching in and out. He was decently tall. Not tall enough to be considered for the upper echelons of tallness, but a good height none the less. His round, purple eyes caught hers and she studied his uneasy grin. The names of each engineer were listed in the caption and one name, Krislotch, glitched in time with the face. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Someone wanted her to pay attention to this guy.

Was it even Krislotch himself? Very well, you have my attention. Now what do you want. She scrolled down a bit further and noticed individual letters glitching as well. A message perhaps? Hidden in the page? What are you trying to tell me, Krislotch?

“MiMi, my tablet.”

MiMi reached into her head and took out a small, metal canister. Tak unfolded it into tablet mode and took out a stylus. She wrote down each letter in order.

A COMPLETE HISTORY OF IRKEN INDUSTRY VOL 13. CHAP 78.

Now this was interesting. It seemed Krislotch left her a little crumb trail. Where it led, she could only guess, but she simply had to follow. She ordered MiMi to find the volume mentioned. When the SIR unit returned, she plugged it into the computer and jumped straight to the designated chapter. Reading through it, she found it was about a factory disaster which resulted in a great number of deaths. Apparently, some worker named Mia, somehow, caused a back up of materials at her station. The machine couldn’t put out new materials, overheated, and caught fire. For some reason, the sprinkler system was disabled, and the fire only spread. Fifty-seven workers, including Mia, died in the accident.

As Tak read the page, she spotted two full sentences glitching. The first gave the number of those dead and the other showed the date. She wasn’t sure why the number of dead was important, but even a smeet a few minutes old knew the significance of the date. This disaster took place exactly 0.1 cycles before Installation Day, the day all Irkens were given their PAKs.

More letters glitched. Put together, they led to a console called “The Irken Cyber Age: a Complete History vol. 1.” They also directed her to a page which, once she read it, confirmed her suspicions. Krislotch did, in fact, want her to know the disaster occurred 0.1 cycles before Installation day. But apart from that, what was the connection?

Yet again, more letter glitched. She’d picked up the trail. Glitching letters led her to a console of Irken History, itself with more glitching letters leading her to the next clue. As she read on, a clear pattern began to emerge. Since the introduction of the PAKs, every major historical event was preceded by a deadly disaster by exactly 0.1 cycles. The historical events mainly revolved around Irken galactic conquest: military campaigns, invasion launches, and the like. The disasters varied widely, but they all had a few things in common. They were all caused by an Irken who then died in the disaster, and they all left fifty-seven dead. Even the names of the Irkens who caused them were similar: Mia, Mib, Mic, Mid, Mie…

The trail stopped before reaching more recent events. The final set of glitching letters gave her the title “An Observatory Study of the Final Days of Ecore,” as well as the coordinates to the console’s location, which rested in a completely different part of Refirencee. She’d waste no time getting there, but something nagged at her.

There must be some current events which fell into the pattern, she thought. Things I would remember. Operation Impending Doom was the obvious answer. It was the most recent invasion launch, but she couldn’t think of any major disasters that preceded it. Then again, the launch date had to be delayed due to… Wait… Was that it? How many died that day? And how long after did Impending Doom II launch? She had to check to be sure.

“MiMi, find information on the original Operation Impending Doom.”

MiMi swept off and quickly returned with a new data console. A quick look confirmed her suspicions. Fifty-seven dead in a rampage caused by disgraced Invader Zim. Impending Doom II launched exactly 0.1 cycles later. It was a close fit, but it wasn’t’ perfect. Zim was alive, for one thing, while the other disaster causers died. Another was the name. It didn’t fit the pattern, unless…

Tak slapped her palm to her forehead. Was the idiot such a complete incompetent that he got his own assigned name wrong?

Surely more answers would be found in the next console.

She and MiMi rode the cart to the closest train station and took the next train to a section called Dead Planets. Once there, they took another cart to the location designated by the glitching letters. As they approached, they found they weren’t looking for a data console at all. The coordinates Tak punched into the cart took them to a section deep in the library. The shelves surrounding them held actual, physical books. Judging by the layers of dust, they were the first lifeforms to enter these aisles in a long time.

They made it to the correct shelf and Tak ordered MiMi to locate the book. The robot found it in matter of seconds and brought it to her. Tak brushed off the cover and opened the book. A small, plastic square fell out and landed on the floor with a clack. She picked it up and turned it over in her hands. It was a data storage device not used in ages. This was old technology, ancient even, but whatever was on it must be important. She pocketed it and sat down on the floor to read. As the book wasn’t in Irken, she couldn’t read it without assistance. She tapped the implant on the side of her head and a universal translator monocle popped out, covering her eye. She began to read.

A Note to the Reader

When I began this journey, I had no intention of chronicling the final days of Ecore. It began as an anthropological study to discern what made this once-thriving civilization drop out of contact with the greater solar system. I set up a hidden shelter on the outskirts of Ecorien society and observed from the outside. My discoveries explain, not only the degradation of Ecorien culture, but the death of the planet itself.

Tak poured through the book, wondering what this weak, primitive culture possibly had to do with Irk. The anthropologist wrote about the Ecorien’s devotion to, what he called, “the Many-Eyed God.” Apparently, this new theology was a sharp deviation from known Ecorien culture. In the past, the Ecoriens revered their planet’s natural resources and energy. This new god was completely unheard of.

He also went on to describe the people’s changed appearance. They looked thin and sickly, and aged rapidly. They’d go to their god for supposed cures, but they didn’t seem to do any good. The people never got better from what plagued them, no matter how devotedly they followed their god.

The most fascinating part was a barbaric ritual referred to as a “blood toll.” When the Ecoriens asked their god for a large favor, such as a bountiful harvest or a cure for a plague, the god would order a blood toll. They brought fifty-seven young, healthy Ecoriens before their god and slaughtered them.

Fifty-seven… Fifty-seven Irkens… Fifty-seven Ecoriens… Was this what Krislotch wanted me to see? She read on.

Soon, she reached the final days of Ecore. An uprising broke out among the younger generations of Ecoriens. The blood toll sacrificed many of them and the elders asked the Many-Eyed God for more and more favors as the species grew weaker. The youths fought back against the elders, refusing to be sacrificed. However, the history of blood tolls had greatly reduced their numbers. Relatively few were young enough to be prime candidates for sacrifice, but old enough to fight. The elders overpowered them. The Many-Eyed God ordered the mass slaughter of the younger generations, promising to restore youth and health to the elders.

Youths died by the thousands, from young adults, to children, to infants. At the end of the bloodbath, the Many-Eyed God detached itself from the planet’s core. It drifted into space, leaving the Ecoriens with nothing but the blood on their hands. With the younger generations wiped out, they were doomed to extinction.

Tak turned the page in horrified awe. The last days of this planet were truly a massacre. The Ecoriens, tricked by this god, turned on their own. Their own god used them, sucked them dry, and abandoned them when they had nothing left to give. This wasn’t just the death of a planet. This was the murder of one.

What this massacre had to do with Irk and PAKs, she still couldn’t say, but the number fifty-seven stuck out in her mind. Fifty-seven died in the Irken disasters. Fifty-seven slaughtered in the Ecorien blood tolls. The connection was obvious, but what it meant escaped her. The Irkens had no gods, not for a few millennia at least. They thrived on science, technology, and conquest. It was said, even before the cyber age, that the Irkens bowed to no laws, but made their own. Nothing calling itself a god could gain this kind of influence on Irk.

But when she turned the page, her vail of denial evaporated. She dropped the book in shock. MiMi swept up to her and peered over Tak’s shoulder. The book lay open on the floor, displaying a two-page spread of images of the Many-Eyed God. Some were sketches. Some were photos taken at a distance. All displayed the same familiar entity. She’d looked into these eyes. This “god” encoded her as an elite trainee. She begged this “god” for the opportunity to prove her worth. This “god” denied her and banished her to Dirt, a husk of wasted potential.

The Control Brain and the Many-Eyed God were one and the same.

She stared down at the book as the truth stared back at her. This thing, whatever it was, had wormed its way into Irken society. It controlled them, fed off them. They even had their own blood toll of sorts. In the end, the Ecoriens withered away to nothing. They were sucked dry and left to rot. It was only a matter of time before the same happened to Irk. This thing, the Control Brain, has to be stopped.

The number 10:00 appeared in the corner of her vision and began ticking down. 9:59… 9:58… “My life clock!” How? Why? Her PAK was still attached. It shouldn’t… Wait, the Control Brain. Her PAK emitted a constant stream of information to the Control Brain and she just had a rebellious thought. There was no time to waste.

“MiMi,” she commanded. Almost as an afterthought, she realized her holo-disguise had gone out. “Take me to the ship. Top speed.”

MiMi stretched out her arms, wrapping them around Tak, and propulsion jets burst from her feet. She flew them out of the library, across the planet, and to the parking bay at such a speed, the world became a nauseating blur. By the time they arrived back at the ship, she had less than 8:00 minutes to save herself.

She plugged her PAK into the ship. “Computer, life-supports error check, immediately.”

After a few seconds of scanning, her computer answered. “Life support systems completely shut down.”

Her insides dropped. “Search for the cause.”

A few more seconds of scanning passed. “Systems shut down after a command initiated by the Control Brain remote feedback program.”

It was as she suspected. “Suggested solutions?”

“Remove feedback chip and manually restart system.”

She felt her guts twist and her body broke into a sweat. Remove feedback chip? Every Irken alive knew it was treason to disconnect from the Control Brain. She’d be an outlaw, a traitor. Returning to Irken-controlled space would be a death sentence for her. But I’m going to die right now if I don’t.

She had no choice. If even thinking about saving her planet from this… this… parasite made her a traitor, then traitor she was. She pulled the plug from her PAK and removed it from her back. She had only a few minutes before her organic brain turned to mush.

She opened a compartment of tools and then opened a panel on her PAK. With a set of tweezers, she located the feedback chip and, with a tug, marked herself traitor. Using a shocking fork, she restarted the life support systems. She turned around, the PAK reattached, and her life clock disappeared. Already, she could feel her body reinvigorating, but the weight of what she’d just done fell heavy on her.

Right now, the Armada was receiving an automated notification that Tak, the deserter janitor, had gone traitor. Orders would be issued for her capture or killing. Every Irken in the military would know her face. She could never go back.

And she couldn’t linger here. She and MiMi made quite the scene with their exit. People would come after them. Anyone who managed to get a look as they flew past could clearly see she was Irken. They had to get far, far away from Irk and far, far away from here.

She powered up the engines and flew the ship out of the parking bay, still unsure of where to go. Anywhere in Irken-controlled space was out and word that an Irken was spotted on a Meekrobian-protected planet would soon spread. She had to go somewhere remote, a planet uncharted and ignored by most of the known universe, a place the Tallest would never willingly go.

She let out a roaring, agonized groan as her mind landed on the perfect answer. It was both the safest place in the universe to hide and the last place she wanted to be, especially in this state. Still, she had no choice.