Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Introducing the New Almighty Tallest Spork!

All Hail Almighty Tallest Spork!

Long may his shadow fall!”

Pinq stood frozen in the middle of cooking. She was still like a rabbit before a gun, like a mouse in front of a cat, like a deer in head lights- a prey animal that knew exactly what fate awaited it.

She hadn’t been worried when the screen had first dropped from the ceiling. She had just thought that the boys had once more managed their rare and lucky moments to be in reach of the Empire’s signal again, that it was nothing more than a quick social call. Just a little pleasant extra diversion where she could see the boys and enjoy the complements to her cooking.

But it hadn’t been the boys.

She had stilled like a statue when instead of her usual chorus of loud voices and high-pitched demands for new or old flavors, there had been the achingly familiar Irken Empire jingle.

A little series of notes that was a cross between an anthem and a newscaster’s intro.

A sound that jerked any Irken’s attention from their current task and made them focus on what was truly important-

An Empire wide announcement.

Tallest Miyuki was dead.

Long may Tallest Spork’s shadow fall.

  . . . it was so odd.

To be in such a warm kitchen.

But to feel like all of her guts had been filled with ice.

Pinq’s hands were still raised in the air, still holding steady. Stuck in the position as she measured out the sugar for the jam she was making for the lackadaisical heralds for what she now knew was the, much closer than formerly assumed, end.

For the meaningless treat she had been making for the twin trumpet wielders of chaos and destruction.

Her hands full of empty calories made of precious sugar.

The cup had more than overflown by this point falling into the bowl below, building a tiny mountain that just kept rising as she stayed still.

Her lack of action making a gentle “shhh” noise as more and more sugar fell into the bowl from the rim of the cup.

Which was funny, because the hush of falling sugar was suddenly the loudest sound in the room.

Despite the canned cheers that were blaring through the speakers on the screen.

Despite the rushing of blood in her skull.

Despite how the end of the universe was so much closer than she had first assumed-

All she could hear was the sound of the sugar falling.

Pinq finally managed to force her hands upward, stopping the pour of sugar, and casually dumped the over filled cup into the bowl as well.  The bowl that was more than half full of sugar.

She gently put the nearly empty bag of sugar on her counter. She laid the measuring cup next to it.

Her arms felt like pipe cleaners, light and swishy and like they could bend into a grotesque shape if she even gently tapped them against something.

All hollow, full of air, and fragile.

Pinq, with careful and precise movements, took a step to the side.

She was now in front of some bare counter, no longer standing in front of the bowl over filled with sugar.

Pinq took a deep, chest straining, breath of air.

Let it out with a hissing whoosh.

And then she collapsed face first onto the counter with a long whine.

The sound was pained, was sharp. Like it was less of a noise from an organic body and more like a stressed machine pushed far past it’s safety measures and giving one final warning to the operator before it tore itself to pieces.

Pinq managed to gasp a breath into her lungs, managed to raise her chest from the concave dent that it had turned into. Trying to keep her body alive as she realized that the end of her quiet life was coming so soon.

Pinq had expected more time.

She had expected much, much, much more time.

She had expected another- another twenty years- at least!

The boys- last time she checked the official height list- were tall.

Tall for soldiers, tall for their age, and even growing at a rate that was impressive!

But they weren’t tall enough!

Red and Purple weren’t ANYWHERE NEAR TALL ENOUGH.

They hadn’t even breached double digits yet! Not even close to being ten feet, much less the former Tallest Miyuki’s height of twenty-three!

Pinq stared down at the floor of her kitchen, tried to accept the coming end of what she had always known would eventually die.

The end of the entire Irken Empire. The end of her life, of the lives of millions!

She slapped her hands down, dragging her claws across the surface of the counter with panting breaths between noises as her meat and her PAK dumped a violent mix of chemical cocktails into her blood stream.

Her PAK was pumping happy neurochemicals into her while her meat body was trying to trigger her fight or flight response.

Her PAK, her metal mind, was producing whatever the Irken equivalents of oxytocin and dopamine were.

Trying to get her happy about a new Tallest, trying to make her overly attached, trying to make her devoted and worshipful of this new leader of the Irken Empire!

All hail Almighty Tallest Spork, long may his shadow fall!

Her meat brain on the other hand? That gelatinous lump of nerves and fat that was sitting pretty in her skull?

That fucker was freaking the fuck out.

All hail Almighty Tallest Spork, long may his shadow fall!

Because it knew, Pinq knew, that this was the signal for the end. That in just one short year, Red and Purple would be declared the new Almighty Tallest.

That they would suddenly be in charge of the Empire, that they would take the wheel with the short-sighted confidence of teenagers on a joy ride with their daddy’s credit card.

That they would crash and burn.

She had thought there would be more time!

All hail Almighty Tallest Spork, long may his shadow fall!

Pinq was panicking, panicking, panicking.

Whatever alien equivalent to cortisol was so thick in her blood it was turning it to syrup.

Adrenaline, fear, stress, love, and pleasure were all mixing thickly in her blood. Leaving Pinq to ride out the effects like a bad drug trip.

Elation-

Horror-

Euphoria-

Fear-

Pleasure- panic- pleasure- PANIC!

ALL HAIL-

Pinq’s shaky knees gave out, and she slid down the side of the counter. Her claws, already cutting shallow grooves in the metal, slide with a shrill noise as she sank down.

Soon she was sitting on the floor with her legs awkwardly spread, trying to breathe through the highs and lows of her intense emotions.

Pinq was pressing her forehead to the edge of the counter, her antennas slapping the hard surface before rebounding to her own head, going back and forth like a broken metronome trying to keep time to the fastest song in the world.

She couldn’t even feel the pain of the impact though the ocean of chemicals already in her veins.

Pinq sat on the floor riding out the horrible mix of a panic attack and a chemically induced ecstasy.

The world grayed out around her, her muscles loosening from pleasure even as her fingers and toes twitched, jolting as small bursts of panic popped through her body.

The only reason she didn’t go to Auto-pilot was because it was her own PAK that was causing half of this reaction. She had to be fully aware in order for the chemical cocktail to make her attached to the newest Tallest.

But that didn’t mean that the meat itself couldn’t do its own version of “Auto—pilot”.

Pinq didn’t know how long she was on the floor, her eyes open but her mind not truly behind them, but eventually some other stimuli seeped into her brain.

Pinq slowly became aware of noise. Of two discordant tones that were echoing around the kitchen and drowning out the sounds of cheering from the screen.

There was a glass shatteringly high trilling noise of distress. A sharp hissing sound of warning and panic. The type of noise that an animal in a trap makes as it sees the hunter approach.

But below the high notes of stress and fear, there was a deep buzzing noise of pleasure. A sound that was more a feeling than a noise, that shook the air and made her think of warm skin, full bellies and tight hugs.

Like a content beast in a den, all cuddled up and fat.

Pinq could feel a strained tension at the back of her throat that matched with the trill.

She could feel an ache like a well worked muscles at the edges of her ribs that pulsed in time with the rumble.

Pinq was gasping, her body dragging air in like a bellows in order to have enough for both sounds.

It hurt, it stung.

Pinq had never- never made sounds like that before.

Never felt so deeply and violently that her body responded to what was in her mind.

Pinq had never- never sounded like an alien before.

The trilling somehow gained more volume, went even pitchier as her panic rose, stealing even more air from her throat as her ribs continued to rumble in pleasure.

That last bit of breathlessness seemed to be the nail in the coffin, the bolt in the barrel.

Because the next thing Pinq was aware of was the pain in her throat and ribs, like she had been strangled and punched in the sides.

The room was quiet, the screen having gone dark and retreated at some point, the motion activated lights having turned off as well.

She was no longer leaning against the counter, but slumped on the ground in a sprawl of limbs.

Her body ached from what must have been a long period of time on the floor.

Pinq hadn’t gone into an Auto-pilot.

She had straight up fainted.

Pinq took a deep breath, her lungs aching from the abuse that had been visited upon her.

She felt-

She felt terrible. Cored out and scrubbed with a wire brush. She felt hollow and tired, wrung out like a wash rag.

She had felt so much, and now it was like she didn’t have any other emotions to feel.

If she was still human, still completely oganic, she would go drink a tall glass of water and go to sleep.

But she wasn’t.

Pinq was an Irken. Her metal counted for more than her meat.

And she could already feel her PAK heating up, beginning to fix what damage her episode had done to her body.

So, she dragged herself back to her feet and restarted the recipe she had been making, but doubled to include all of the sugar that would have gone to waste otherwise.

Her hands were a little shaky, but it wasn’t like this recipe had to be exact.

It was just going to be some jam, and that was really done by weight anyway.

Pinq moved like that factory she was in charge of.

Slow, ponderous, and uncaring. She moved like two-ton machinery that would as soon as crush a body as finish a job.

Pinq knew the weight of the ingredients, knew exactly how the cups should feel in her hands.

The memory passing from one life to another, the meat remembering despite the biological differences between one species to another.

Well, that and the fact that she had sent lots of barrels of jam to the boys since she had begun.

Many of the ingredients that Pinq bought ended up being some variation of berry.

And jam was an easy option to use up her stock.

Pinq poured and measured on-

Not instinct.

NOT auto-pilot.

But- by route?

It was familiar. It was known.

It was an action that she didn’t have to think about.

So, while her body moved with purpose, her mind raced like a headless chicken.

My time is up???

My time is up, but my plans-

No, no no, what plans? I wasn’t making plans! My plans were “Make them like me!” And all I’ve done is send snacks?? Is that enough? It can’t be enough, right??

Not that it matters! I already know that I can’t change anything! Anything I do just plays into the story! Is just controlled by the narrative.

But what’s the narrative?? The boys aren’t nearly tall enough to be Tallest!

I’m taller than they are, how are they going to be at the top of the list by the time the year is up??

Wait.

How tall were they when they became tallest? 13 feet? 9 feet?

 . . . shit, I don’t know.

How tall is the tallest non-Tallest Irken?

How many Irkens are between them and the title? How tall do they need to get?

What can I feed them, what can I do?

Do I need to do anything??

How the hell are they going to outgrow- how many is it- how do I put in heights-

FIFTY-TWO THOUSAND THREE HUNDRED AND TWENTY-TWO IRKENS?!?!

. . . ok, so in the scope of the entire empire, that not too bad, but fuck! they aren’t anywhere close? There are irkens that are like 15 feet tall and they have only barely gotten to 8!

They would need to almost double their height!

How the hell are they supposed to double in height in a single year??

Are they supposed to find a super food? Get experimented on? Bask in in some weird sun’s radiation!??

This is a cartoon, right? So, what isn’t comically violent is comically stupid! What would be the stupidest way for them to be tallest? Would they just get a broken measurement bot?

Would they be hit with like, a growth ray?? Would EVERYONE ELSE be hit with a shrink ray??

HOW THE FUCK WOULD THEY BE THE TALLEST-

No.

No.

It didn’t matter.

It would never matter.

The how wasn’t important.

Just the fact that THEY WILL BE the Tallest.

Somehow, someway.

It was going to happen.

It wasn’t Pinq’s business.

It wasn’t for Pinq to understand.

She just- just had to keep going.

Keep cooking for them, keep up what little contact she had.

She just had to keep being a small contact, to be mostly unimportant but for when they were eating her snacks. Nothing but a blip on their radar, just another Irken that they met in their long- short-

 . . . how long did the boys live anyway? How long did they last before they too were taken out by the universe’s punchline?

They lasted longer than Tallest Spork, didn’t they?

Yes, yes, much much longer than Spork,

-but no where close to how long the last tallest- Tallest Miyuki- lasted.

Was it ten years? Was it a hundred?

Fuck, Irken ages were such bullshit!

What frame of reference did she have?

Fucking- nothing! Nothing nothing nothing.

All she had was- was the Invader Zim memories, and they just started, what? A year? Two years? Before the end!

Her memories were-

They didn’t have any worth! They were stupid memories of a children’s cartoon! They had almost no rhyme or reason or time line!

But-

But did she need them? Did she need to know? Did Pinq have to know exactly how long the empire would last?

She was a manager in the middle of nowhere! A manager on a space lube planet that had fuck all to do with the rest of the universe

Even if the Irken Empire collapsed, no one would try to attack this place.

Hell, Pinq could probably just continue on as always and just sell to other aliens if the Irken Empire did crumble.

When the Irken Empire crumbled.

She probably didn’t need the Empire to survive.

She just needed to be forgotten by everyone in it.

By the universe as a whole.

Unimportant, unimpressive, unnoticeable.

Just another Irken who was serving the Empire!

No reason to look at her at all.

Chapter Text

When the order to return to Irk came, it went directly to her PAK.

And her PAK made it impossible to do anything but immediately return to Irk.

Because the urge to return began before the message arrived.

Almost four hours before the summoning came, Pinq had unexplainably been overcome with the desire to return to Irk.

She wanted to breath the air, to walk on the ground.

She wanted to feel the familiar pull of the planet’s gravity, to travel its tunnels and be near other Irkens. She wanted to hear the hum of conversation instead of the dull thuds of distant machinery.

She so earnestly longed for her ‘home planet’.

Which was crazy, because she hated Irk.

She had no good memories of the place or the company at all.

If Pinq had slept, if she dreamed on the regular, she knew that even years later she would have nightmares of her time in the tunnels.

Nightmares about the close quarters, the tests that literally meant life or death, the constant inescapable company of others just as desperate to survive as she was-

It was pure insanity for her to long to return to such a place.

If Pinq didn’t have a whole past life to draw experience from, if she didn’t know that the empire had more control over her emotions than she would ever be comfortable with, if she didn’t know that she was a part of an evil empire-

She would have thought it was a new mental illness, to long for a place that had only been terrible and stressful.

It was so starkly artificial of an emotion, such a heavy handed longing that Pinq honestly thought that she might have been hacked.

But then the urgent return order came, and Pinq understood.

Something was happening.

Something that the Empire didn’t want spreading before all those involved were contained.

For a moment, just a second, Pinq thought that maybe this was all about her.

That this was the empire making her walk to her demise, that someone had noticed some off code in her PAK and had correctly deduced that she wasn’t really an Irken. That she wasn’t really a part of the Empire. That she wasn’t REALLY one of them.

But then she realized-

If they knew she wasn’t really an Irken-

Then they wouldn’t bother with all of this.

They would just have her PAK kill her.

There would be no need for all of this fuss, no reason to lure her back to Irk.

So Pinq swallowed down her anxiety and made some short-term arrangements for one of few workers stationed at one of the other manufacturing areas to come and take care of her factory.

She hadn’t expected to be gone for long.

Factoring in the travel time, doing whatever it was she was being recalled for, she expected to be gone for two weeks at minimum a month at maximum.

But it really depended on whatever this was all about.

The message had been short and impersonal, referring to her not by her name, number or even planet.

It had just said “Manager above 8 foot” which was incredibly vague, seeing as how most managers were over 8 feet tall.

At the moment, the vague and unspecific wording of the message had calmed her, made her think that this was something that she was only getting involved in by rote, that no special attention would be given to her at all.

And Pinq had been relieved.

But now?

Now she was coming to the same slow realization that all the others managers in the large auditorium were-

That whatever was going on-

Was bad for her.

Bad for them all.

When Pinq had first arrived, she had been far from the first. The auditorium had been more than half filled, and the other managers had been socializing and networking, everyone asking the big question.

Why were they here?

As with all things, groups were made.

Managers that were ‘business partners’, managers that had intricate webs of debts and favors between them, managers that simply knew one another.

They clumped up.

New information about their lives were shared, old news was rehashed, and different ideas about what could possibly be occurring was shared between them.

And Pinq, a young manager, stationed at the edge of the universe, and not worth knowing, anxiously passed between the small groups in an attempt to find a place to wait the whole thing out.

And as such, she . . . eavesdropped like it was her job.

“ . . . no catering or seating arrangements despite the height of all those recalled.”

“Yes, if I hadn’t checked on my flight over I would have assumed that there had been an emergency. But it seems as though no soldiers have been recalled at all.”

“Perhaps it is not an emergency that soldiers would be useful for? A management problem?”

“There would be no need to call for so many from so many different areas though-“

Pinq passed that group, and then ghosted closer to another, these more finely dressed.

“Most of the former Tallest’s advisors died with her didn’t they?”

“You think that Almighty Tallest Spork is going to be choosing more advisors?”

“Well, all the ones at the Almighty introduction were from the Military, weren’t they? And you need more than guns to run an empire, intelligence and planning are what truly make us strong. It would be logical to assume he has realized that he needs more Irkens that actually know how to do more than kill things.”

“Well, I would not say you are wrong- but why recall so many short managers? 8 feet is entirely too short to be an advisor-“

Pinq didn’t pause near them, didn’t want to draw their attention, so she continued on their way until she was out of listen distance.

She heard more theories for why they were here, listened to more conspiracy theories and ideas for what had them all brought together as she walked.

Assumptions, theories, and wishful thinking all flew through the air.

Groups of managers sharing their opinions and their derogatory ideas. The various words were nearly treasonous, degrading the military as nearly useless and the newest Tallest as untried and inexperienced.

Many of the managers here were only a few feet below Tallest Spork’s height, a fraction were only inches short.

More than half of them were in his age range and the others were significantly older.

. . . if Pinq was asked, and she wouldn’t be-

She would say that if Spork was smart, he would collect some of the older and well-connected managers to be his advisors.

But then fill the rest of the spots with intelligent but younger irkens.

It would be an easier path forward if he played the manager advisors against the military advisors, keeping their jobs separate enough to not allow for sabotage, while also comparing their accomplishments and failures.

Use the younger Irkens’s lack of resistance to the PAK’s loyalty programing, have them high out of their gourd with only a few complements. Treat them right, give them perks that rely on their efforts and then let them take care of the work.

Create a feedback loop of good jobs = good feelings and you have a loyal and hard working work force.

As for the military . . . Pinq didn’t really know what drove them, what they wanted or what their efforts looked like.

But if interacting with the boys taught her anything, food will get you pretty far.

Feed them and just ask what they want.

Maybe treat training? Give them high-grade stuff when they do good, and just . . . not as high-grade stuff when they fail?

Less of a carrot and a stick and more of a carrot and a candy sorta situation.

But . . .

That wasn’t what was happening here.

There was no grand plan, no intelligent assignment of the work force, no future-

Because Almighty Tallest Spork was going to die in a year.

Was going to be swallowed up by the same slime monster that consumed Almighty Tallest Miyuki.

Because this was a cartoon.

Almighty Tallest Spork was nothing but a joke, a half-hearted punchline. His reign existed only to underline how stupid the Irken empire’s hierarchy was, how dumb it was to chose a leader by height.

So this-

This summoning, this conference, this gathering of managers and manpower-

It couldn’t be anything smart.

Pinq severely doubted that a children’s cartoon character that showed up for mere seconds only to die had any chance for making a long-lasting decision.

 . . . well, not a good decision anyway.

But Pinq kept these observations and opinions to herself.

Because Pinq.

Slumped over, poncho clade, unassuming and isolated Pinq.

Had no one to share her concerns with.

She had no friends or connections, or even any enemies.

So while the other managers played games, touched base, and communicated with each other to try and gain an upper hand-

Pinq went and found a patch of wall to wait against.

She focused her attention away from the situation and instead tried to anticipate what she was missing on her planet. She tried making some plans for what new ingredients she would order to cook for the boys. She spent her time trying to decide if she should do a repeat of a recipe that she knew they really enjoyed or try something new.

She was leaning toward an old favorite.

With this ‘summoning’ happening she would have less time before her regularly scheduled delivery.

Unless she got really lucky, she would barely have anytime to experiment before time was up.

She hadn’t missed a delivery yet, and while the boys had no actual ability to in any way penalize her-

She didn’t want to have them be disappointed.

Pinq focused on her recipe notes, blocking out the low murmur of conversation as she thought about ways to tweak or improve them.

She had decided on sugar cookies and was trying to remember it there was anything she could do to add more variety or if it would be better to keep them plain.

 Even if I can’t add anything to the cookie itself, I can surely whip up some frosting? It would only take some powdered sugar and fruit juice right? That could surely add some variety! I might even be able to make them in Red and Purple’s colors! That would be fun.

Pinq had gotten some notes down about what ingredients she thought that she might be able to turn into icing-

When there was a loud attention grabbing ~doo do doo~ noise.

There was a wave of swiveling heads as a kaleidoscope of brightly colored and shining eyes all turned towards where a platform was slowly lowering from the ceiling in the center of the large room.

Despite many Irkens’ anticipations, there was no Almighty Tallest Spork on the platform.

Only a group of advisors.

Military Advisors.

And a screen.

Once the platform was low enough that it was visible to the entire crowd, there was a fizzling pop before an awkward close up of Almighty Tallest Spork’s face was suddenly stretched across the screen.

The new Tallest was visibly nervous, his eyes darting from side to side, only visible because of how close the camera was to his face. There were slight trails of sweat running down his face, a sign of extreme anxiety.

Sporks teeth were bared in what was surely an attempt at a smile, but looked more like someone trying to peel back their lips for a dental exam.

He looked like a mess.

A mess that was so very afraid of someone getting mad at him for something that he fucked up.

“Hello my M-managers! I have been- been advised by my Advisors that there needs to be change in the empire! A grand change! A change to make our empire stronger and weed out the weak.”

Another shifty look, his antennas tucked so tightly to his head that Pinq could see them indenting the skin a little from how hard he was pulling them down.

“And so! I have de-decided that any Irken over 8 feet will have a mandatory military campaign, no matter their job or age! Thatwillbeall!”

The screen went dark with a zap, and the managers were left in a stunned silence as the military advisors on the platform approached the edges with cruel smiles.

“Alright! You heard the Tallest! Everyone line up for their new assignments!”

Pinq was surrounded by panic, chaos, and fear.

Rage and devastation in equal measures. Screams of discontent, roars of rage, and the quiet shivering keen of fear.

The air was so saturated with stress pheromones that Pinq could actually see the discoloration. The crowd was so fraught with emotion that it was creating a haze in the few spaces between the thrashing bodies.

Pinq pressed harder to the wall at her back, trying to put as much distance between her and the rest of the thrashing crowd of enraged and panicked managers.

The irkens that had been standing tall and dignified just moments ago were now scuttling along the ground and hissing, they were clawing at the sealed doors, they were fighting each other in their panic, rolling around on the ground as they yowled like cats in heat.

Some of them were clustered together in groups, barring their teeth at the large robotic arms that were plucking managers out of the crowd at random. Some of them even latching onto their snatched companions to try and pull them back, but they only got shook off the metal arm like the bugs they were.

Each snatched manager was brought up to the military advisors, dropped on one of the platforms where their PAK’s were immediately cabled.

Each military advisor was taking visible glee in manually changing the Manager’s job codes to low rank soldiers.

Stripping away their access to the accounts tied to their positions, the perks afforded to them for their height, the accomplishments that they have made over their time working-

Turning all of these tall, aged, and connected Irkens from the ruling class to the lowest of cannon fodder.

The only way to take them lower, to insult them even more, would be to turn them into service workers.

To make them into janitors or servants.

But the insult, while surely a well enjoyed and well relished side-effect of what was currently happening, was not the goal.

No.

The goal was to kill them all.

When the panic had started, Pinq had been just as confused and afraid of the rest of the managers.

Them? Become soldiers?

Sure, they technically had the training. All Irkens were technically supposed to be completely interchangeable, able to do any job in the empire at a moment’s notice or need.

That was obviously not actually feasible.

Pinq had been taught how to shoot and maintain a standard Irken handgun, she had passed the basic sparing classes.

Those had been mandatory things to know in order to graduate.

But that had been years ago.

The guns had been upgraded, her height made all her old fighting training nearly useless, and her physical condition had degraded from her life of low physical activity.

Pinq had very little hope of surviving a full military campaign.

And she was the youngest in the room.

The rest of these irkens had been languishing in the cushy manager position for years. All of their knowledge of weaponry was going to be a century old at least, they would have practically no physical conditioning.

There was no way anyone could expect them to survive active battle.

They were being sent to their deaths.

It had been a well-known fact that Military Irkens had disliked Management Irkens, but surely no one had expected such an action to be taken.

Pinq’s eyes flicked around the room, trying to see if there was a sign that any of the Irkens had any hint- any idea- that they were so grievously hated?

Was it just because of the divide between them? Just because they were so heavily separated and segregated or-

-a manager with curly antennas and bright red eyes fell to their knees in horror at the sight of the general’s name that they were being placed under. They fell backwards, trying to crawl away, screaming in anguished fear as they begged for any other position-

- was it just personal?

The metal arm hurt, gripping her too tight around the middle.

Though, seeing as how she was one of the very few managers not struggling to escape, the tightness was probably necessary to not continually drop and recatch the escapees.

But Pinq just hung from the restraint. Just let her long legs dangle in the air as she was brought to the platform and dropped before a smirking Advisor.

Her legs didn’t hold her weight, both the sudden drop and her own dissociation having her knees buckle like a folding chair.

She sat with her legs splayed for a bare moment before a ping forced her PAK to uncover it’s access points. Then the floating cables struck like venomous snakes, sliding in and immediately by-passing whatever firewalls or defenses that she had, using the authority of the empire to just- open up her mind and reach into the core of her.

Her entire recoded existence, unguarded and vulnerable before someone who so clearly wished to do her harm, who was visibly delighting in the distress surrounding them.

Pinq felt like an oyster that had been snatched from the sea and cracked open. Felt like she had all of her soft and squishy bits garnished with lemon and left out for anyone who had a craving for seafood. Left exposed like a morsel on a buffet for a hungry bougie company employee.

But also someone who had many others to torture, who had more interesting managers to torture-

Someone who was displaying more reaction than the dizzy shock that Pinq was.

The smirk and snort that the Advisor gave Pinq when her credentials scrolled across the floating screen between them seemed to explain enough.

Pinq twitched and flinched as the Military Advisor clicked and scrolled through her ‘history’.

Thankfully the Advisor wasn’t going deep- at least not yet.

They were obviously searching for- something? Something.

Pinq, by pure virtue of being the very thing they were searching through, was able to see what key words they were looking up.

“Military General”

“Military Commander”

“Military Sergent”

“Military Captain”

Some of those terms brought up names and time stamps, but none of the names had anything more than 2 minutes attached to them, most of them only having seconds.

It took a while for Pinq to understand, watching as the Advisor searched up terms, only for the searches to come up nearly empty. Watching as the Advisor went from high ranks to lower and lower ranks in the military.

The Military Advisor was searching her interaction length, searching for any military Irkens that she had spent any decent amount of time involved with, either in meat space or on calls.

That was how the managers were being sorted, that was how they were insuring that the Managers were going to be killed.

They were just sending the Managers to whoever they had interacted with the most in the Military.

It was a stupid way to do it. A stupid way to get revenge on the former upper-class of the Irken empire.

But it was easy to arrange, incredibly petty and would probably work.

Because as Pinq was very familiar by now, Irkens were jerks.

Especially Irkens of higher standing were jerks to Irkens of lower standing.

And in the last reign, Managers were the top of the heap, and as such, were almost universally shitty towards any military Irken.

So yeah, suddenly flipping the power dynamic and giving these Military Irkens, who probably had some grudge, control over what they would have seen as an uppity egocentric asshole that they formerly didn’t have any chance of getting revenge on?

Yeah, this would wipe all of the managers out.

Either out of their own lack of combat experience, or the malicious activities of the commanders and captains that they would be placed under.

Pinq was too young, too isolated, too content with her position in life to have personally pissed off any of the Military Advisors.

Too fresh, too boring, too unmotivated to have crossed them or pissed them off.

There was no grudge against her.

Only her position.

But she was a Manager, and like anyone with a grudge against an arbitrary position, trait or cultural group, they assumed that she must have pissed someone in the army off.

And as the Advisor went lower and lower, listed off less and less powerful ranks, they apparently got frustrated and simply searched “Military”.

And the screen was filled with all of the various orders that Pinq had handled, all of the times that an army ship had put in an order for Space Lube.

But at the very top, with matching times clocking in at just a bit more than 30 hours, were two names with Military Foot-soldier as their job titles.

Red and Purple.

The both of them coming in at such a low rank that the Advisor hadn’t even thought to search for a connection like that from the manager.

“Ha! How did you even come into contact with a pair of Foot-soldiers? They never leave the ships unless- oh! These are the tall ones, aren’t they? Yeah, I remember now. These ones were highly anticipated for a while, but their worth has gone down now that more space at the top has freed up.”

“I can only imagine what trouble you’ve caused them! The petty little insults a Manager must have made against a pair of disposable Foot Solders.”

The Advisor spoke with a snarling grin, surely thinking back to their own time bullying the ones who had that title, at how they themselves had treated and disregarded the Foot-soldiers in their command.

At the anger and rage that had been directed toward them when they had been the one’s stepping on the throats of their subordinates.

It was kinda funny just how close they were to being self-aware, but just not quite managing to apply the logic of “This Manager is going to be punished by those she has wronged!” to their own situation.

Pinq sat in a sprawl before the scheming Advisor, watched with faintly blurry eyes as her information was changed, her clearance’s revoked, her Height Rights removed and her various accounts locked.

In a matter of moments, Pinq went from a Manager of a Space Lube Facility on Planet 914 to a drafted Foot solider, placed in the Vloop Sector underneath Commander Hagl.

And then, with the final click of a comically large red button-

The floor dropped out from below Pinq.

The sudden freefall of the drop was too much for her strained nerves combined with the sudden disconnect of wires ripping out of her PAK. The wires getting yanked out of the ports with her weight suddenly pulling on them.

Pinq had a sharp burst of terror before her mind went blank.