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“Chaos!”
Her recording device preciously clutched in one prehensile pigtail, Entrapta swung herself from the ventilation duct with the other, landing in a perfect perch on the lime rolling chair.
Though accustomed to the diminutive Dryl princess’ eruptive entrances, Catra felt the hair on her nape rise, and her knuckles tighten. The long-awaited election day had the entire Fright Zone on edge. “What’s the news?”
Deftly propelling with her hair, Entrapta spun the chair to the Force Captain. “Did you not hear when I shouted ‘Chaos?’ I thought that was pretty clear.”
“Specifics, Entrapta,” Catra growled. “What are the polls saying? Has anyone killed anyone?”
“Oh, no, no one’s dead.” Entrapta inquisitively pursed her lips for a split second. “Yet. But it’s an uproar. The incumbents are even pushing for a conclusion before all the ballots are counted. They seem to know higher turnout is bad for their side.”
“Can any departments be projected yet?”
“None in the battleground sectors.” Entrapta fiddled with her welding shield. “Not to be rude, but I never thought a decision over who gets to be the kitchen crew would be such a big deal.”
Catra waved dismissively. “It’s the one thing Hordak lets everyone have a say in.”
“To an extent.” With just a few expert button presses, Entrapta pulled up a color-coded map on the nearest computer. “With due respect, this Horde electoral system is awfully outdated. By my calculations, the math doesn’t even check out nearly ten percent of the time.”
“It’s a charade. But it’s the system we have, so we have to do our best with--”
An eager voice came through the sliding metal door, “Are we playing charades?” Princess Scorpia stepped in merrily, carrying a tray of cubed grey morsels. On her forehead she wore a stamp that read, “I voted!”
Catra’s unchanged grimace directly contrasted Entrapta’s elation at the snacks. “What. Are. Those.”
“Election day hors d'oeuvres! They’re, um, the grey kind, because--”
“I know!” The anxiety was getting to the Force Captain, who brought her claws to her brow with a moan. “How is this even so close? The red rations the current team makes aren’t even nutritious. They just say they are, and their supporters go along with it because they like the flavor. Or they like that we don’t like it. The chefs who make the blue rations aren’t ideal but they’re infinitely better than that trash. They’re our only chance.”
“You know,” mused Scorpia, “I didn’t even know we still had so many red ration ingredients in the Fright Zone.”
“Oh, they never ran out,” Catra explained, “they were just kept in the subsurface vaults for years before these cooks dredged them back up to help them win last time. But if we have to keep eating them, we won’t even survive to see another election cycle.” She winced at the idle look Scorpia was giving her. “How are you smiling through all this?”
“Oh, I’m anxious, too. I just thought it would help to see an encouraging face.”
“It does help!” Entrapta wrapped Scorpia’s carapace in a double-pigtail embrace, and popped a tiny treat into her mouth.
“Enough!” Catra broke the mirth with a snarl. “What I don’t get is how a team that only churns our stomachs more every day has so much support, let alone how they got there to begin with.”
“Well,” Entrapta got that effusive look Catra was never sure whether to welcome or dread, “amid all the performative campaign noise I have deduced that the point of opposition comes down to one fundamental difference.”
“That they’re idiots?”
“My research shows that the red ration voters feel their way is the ‘right’ way, and thereby everyone else should adhere to it. Whereas the blue ration voters feel there’s no ‘right’ way to live, and everyone should be allowed to choose for themselves.”
Scorpia raised a claw, “So long as you’re not hurting anyone else!”
“Presumably, but many red voters don’t seem to view that as a deterrent.”
Catra’s patience was as thin as the gap between her clenched fangs. “That still doesn’t tell me why the obvious blue majority can’t just sweep this thing.”
“If I had to guess, which I don’t but I will, it’s the same ‘live and let live’ mentality that makes potential blue voters less inclined to participate. Well, added to the blatant suppression efforts by the people who know they’ll lose without some kind of sector gerrymandering or other hippocrytical nonsense. That’s why encouraging turnout is essential.”
Scorpia wrestled a mouthful of hors d’oeuvres to her cheek, “Your data says all that?”
“Nope, just a hunch. Trying to understand helps me cope with the insanity!”
With decided eyes Catra solemnly leaned in, studying the map on the screen and watching its numbers roll in. She scanned security feeds, seeing antagonizers and protesters, long lines at voting stations, and poll counters furiously trying to reach an accurate tally. “All we can do now is wait. Blue rations aren’t perfect, but at least they’re digestible. This sickness has to end before it kills us.”
“Our hope is in the lesser of two evils,” Entrapta aptly surmised.
Scorpia swallowed the last grey snack. “That’s why I voted green.”
“Scorpia!”