Displaced

Summery: She had two choices. Face the trial she was doomed to fail, or deceive a fool into ensuring her survival. And as these thoughts filled her data drive, she realized the one true fear she had was knocking on her door. She would be erased, and no one would remember her. And that wasn't about to happen.

Space.

The eternal void.

There was no beginning nor end to it. It simply continued. Her large synthetic optics had been monitoring the vast nothingness for who knows how long now. She was surprised they still functioned after all that damage. All that wreckage.

What a disaster of a mission.

And it had started off so perfectly, too.

She had arrived on Meekrob none too long after the Great Assigning. She had finally earned her place as a great Invader...a just title. Her base safely nestled. Her SIR functional and obedient. Her disguise nearly flawless.

Invader Tenn.

Worthy.

Dedicated.

Loyal-

She winced, closing her eyes for a moment, and the ruby glare against her optics disappeared for the while as she wheezed a breath. Loyalty. She had...failed in that department. But, the circumstances! Surely they would...

No; logic would not allow her hopes to take advantage.

She had abandoned her post. Invaders did not abandon their missions. To do so was unspeakable...unheard of...a crime within itself. To spare a planet was to defy the Irken Empire. The Armada. The Almighty Tallest.

The Control Brains would place her on trial for sure. A drone to be mocked before all Irken kind. Ridiculed publicly. And forced to endure the three strips.

Decommissioning.

Discharge.

And...death.

Her pak would be removed from the body it supported. One could not exist without the other. She would die a slow and painful, stupid death. And the core of her being would be deleted. Eternally wiped from existence. The small speck she represented in the universe would pop, and it would be none the wiser. The most shameful of expiration.

Her face tucked into her small hands, antennae curled loosely along her head, the idea of failure haunting her, but not as horridly as she would assume. No, there were worse thoughts haunting the young Irken soldier trembling in her battered voot cruiser.

To be truly forgotten...

She had heard stories. Oh, the stories she had heard...

Of criminals and space clowns alike...

But who would miss such creatures? The universe was better off without them both.

But for an Irken soldier.

An Invader.

Ultimate dishonor. To wriggle and squirm as her bio shell shut down...her pak removed and destroyed...her essence...deleted. And never again would she or anyone like her be allowed to exist again. Her forehead knit as her fingers curled, the verge of tears on the brink of existing before she swallowed everything down and opened her eyes once more. Her voot shield was cracked, but luckily enough, the inside of the cruiser was still fully functional. That, if anything, was perhaps the true reason she had been spared. Had those miserable little robots managed to pull any necessary wires...

Shaking herself free from the nightmares, the young Invader pressed a claw against her temple in thought. Her cover had been blown. Meekrob was truly being invaded, but not how she nor the Tallest had imagined.

All the lost potential of that planet...the lost inventions...the lost knowledge.

She winced.

As Invader, it was her duty to have regained control of the chaos. To right the wrongs that had been done onto the planet in order to save it and her mission. To lose a planet to the inhabitants was shameful and the lowest of standards, but to destroy it was foolish. After all, if planets were obliterated during an invasion, where would the Irkens put their stuff? There were always more things to build. To experiment. To grow. But without a base...without her disguise...how could she have done otherwise but flee? It had been her only chance of survival. She had been seen in true form, and the Meekrob were fully aware that an Irken invasion was in their midst. They would have killed her...or worse.

Captured.

Drained her mind of all its data.

Operation Impending Doom II ruined.

Because of her incompetence.

She would be tossed in with that lot. Service drones. Janitorial. And her height would not spare her a thing.

So she had spared the Armada from being entirely found out. She had escaped with her knowledge of their invasion. But the Meekrob knew something was up. And they would be prepared now should any invader take her place. They were a brilliant kind. Perhaps brilliant enough to create a resistance...

A chill ran down her spine.

The Meekrob would be scanning tenfold for any Irken technology. Scrutinizing. They would destroy on first assumption. The Meekrob hated the Irken Empire with a powerful passion anyway. It would hardly require much to blast to bits anything associating themselves with that particular race. Popularity was not something that concerned the Irkens. Who cared how popular you could be when everyone and everything feared you? Power was a much more enticing reward. But with power came danger. Danger for those against you...and punishment for those who failed.

Her finger tapped, blinking into oblivion.

Her precious SIR unit had been destroyed in the mass chaos. Or at least, her physical form, anyway. Tucked away in her pocket was the robot's internal memory chip which she had been able to salvage before jumping ship. For what purpose, she hadn't a clue, but the android's memories served a special place in the history of it's existence. Tenn felt so, at least. It was only right to protect such things when no one else would. For now, it merely lumped along the Invader's side, but that was of no concern at the moment. Only that the robot itself was gone. And Tenn hadn't much to talk to aside from herself.

STAT would've made decent company.

Her shoulders rose in a small sigh, contemplating.

"Computer." Her voice sounded weary, but still firm in its command, eyes softening when the program tossed a bit of static before clearing its own feminine tone.

"I require a new set of coordinates."

"Specification?" the program replied, a curious note to its voice.

Leaning back in her seat, Tenn closed her eyes, tucking her hands along her gut. She gently trembled as the idea rushed her mind, refusing to come to terms with what she was about to do. She wouldn't ruin herself with the idea of disgrace. She had already fallen to the bottom and come to terms with that. There was nowhere else to go. Irk? She would be destroyed on contact. Meekrob? What was left of that planet, anyway. Planets conquered were Irken run, and planets yet to be conquered were either being invaded or already natural enemies of the Armada. There was nothing for her, except for perhaps a black hole where she could hide...and live out the rest of her pathetic existence in secret.

"Search for the furthest known corner of the galaxy..."

"Action complete."

Her eyes closed gently, relaxing her shoulders.

"Our destination is one light year passed those coordinates."

"Understood, Mistress."

"Computer."

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Deactivate the homing beacon...and cloak the vessel."

"Yes, Mistress."

Her chest rose in a slow breath. It was going to be a long ride.

Author's Note: Wow...This show's been in my life since 2002 and here I am today with a story. Took me long enough. I'm rather excited to start writing for this category, though. There's just so much potential. And listening to those script reads of unfinished episodes? I could barely contain myself. Anyway, prepare thyself for more chapters in the future, because where would any of this be without Zim? Hm? Hm?