I finally got around to writing the story that was in my head. I'm not sure how many chapters it will be or when they all will be posted, but I'm writing almost every day! The beginning is pretty slow because I have to set the stage for all the interesting stuff. These first few chapters are just to show you what the characters are like and how they interact with each other.

There will be two main characters in this story: one Irken, one Vortian. I'm focusing on the Irken's POV for now and will switch to the Vortian's in a few chapters. Hope y'all enjoy! No matter what, I'm having a lot of fun writing this and will continue to do so!

A deep hum filled the air, its source indistinguishable and ceaseless. It was the only sound the Irken focused on to calm his nerves in the few moments before he would be released into the arena. During times like these, he had always found comfort in that constant reverberating tone, as its presence incited a sense of assuredness and stability for a reason the Irken could never understand. It had accompanied him throughout his entire life, beginning even before the moment of his hatching, for in some far-off, untouched corner of his PAK's memory drive, there was a vague, perhaps even a fabricated memory of a low, soothing note. That inconsequential memory had somehow survived the transfer of information once his designated PAK had been attached only seconds after his hatching. Even then, while he had shivered from the frigid air that stung his tiny, goo-covered body, that sound had made him feel safe and protected.

Much had changed since he was a smeet though. He couldn't rely on anything or anyone to keep him safe anymore—that he had learned the hard way, as all his other peers had as well. It was a necessary lesson though; without it, he would have been weak, dependent. Irk, he might have been dead. It could be said for certain, though, that he would never have achieved as much as he was able to today, and for that, he allowed himself to feel a sliver of thankfulness. But not too much, as that was not the Irken way.

He sighed heavily, shaking himself out and hearing his armor softly clink with the movement. His body jittered uncontrollably—partly as a response from his most recent hit, but also because he was much more nervous than he let on. If he passed this one last test, he'd be set for the rest of his life. If not…he honestly didn't know if he'd be able to cope with the shame. It would be a lie to say he hadn't thought about all the ways he could end himself if it ever came to that. He just hoped…dear Irk, he hoped…

…But Irkens didn't beg, and they most certainly didn't have a higher deity to beg to.

He didn't want to die. But he might have to. The thought sent a wave of nausea throughout his trembling body. An Irken never admitted fear—neither to himself nor to others—but he was beyond such a notion currently. Because, standing rigid with horrible anticipation inside a dark, cramped cylindrical chamber with only that familiar thrumming and the sound of his own terrified breathing to accompany him, he didn't think he had ever felt such a powerful sense of fear in his entire life.

It wasn't to last though, for a few moments later, he jumped to attention as a short messaged was relayed to him on the screen on the chamber's sliding metallic doors, alerting him of the mere seconds that remained before he would face his opponent. What happened after would either be the greatest achievement an Irken soldier could hope to attain…or the beginning of his agonizing downfall. His fate would be decided in just ten short minutes.

The Irken didn't take notice as the ever-present hum had fallen away when he lifted his crimson-eyed gaze to the sliding doors that parted on either side of him to reveal the arena that would either make him great or end it all.

Chapter 1

Yesterday afternoon about 17 degrees Irken Standard Time.

He didn't think he'd ever felt such utter relaxation and peacefulness in his life, nevermind the fact that that's what he had told himself every time. He inhaled a slow breath and listened to the soft humming and clicking of sleek Irken machinery surrounding him and closed his eyes. The pleasing sound gently reverberated through his now motionless and reclined antennae as well as into the depth of his PAK, relieving the tension and stress that all the vital components within had endured throughout the week. During these sessions, he truly felt one with the machines. His conscious mind seemed to disperse in all directions, flowing like liquid through the circuits in his PAK, out the open ports, and up into charging cables, where it mingled with the thoughts and knowledge of billions of other Irkens in the digital collective.

It was during these too few times when he was charging his PAK that he actually felt like he fully belonged and was accepted here. Despite his respectable height and various notable achievements, all his life this little nagging feeling always weaseled its way into the back of his mind, insisting that perhaps he stuck out or maybe no one liked him. But he was actually rather ordinary, at least according to his peers. Fairly unremarkable would probably be a better description (which was generally a good thing in Irken society). Well, maybe his eyes were an odd shade of green, but that was hardly a punishable trait, right?

He chose to sweep that negative little thought under the proverbial rug. Right here in this moment, he was self-assured, confident, and more than ready to train hard and help keep his empire a force to be reckoned with, despite what any lesser being thought of him. It was his primary duty, after all. Nothing else mattered, especially little inconsequential feelings of self-doubt. Such things were highly un-Irken.

His antennae twitched forward without his knowledge, seeming to have a mind of their own, picking up a tiny sound that he himself hadn't even consciously registered. He was still too far gone within the digital world that no small interruption could break his concentration. With still over half an hour left of his charging time, he was pulled unceremoniously back into reality as his ever-alert antennae picked up an Irken presence. He felt his mind come rushing back into his body so unexpectedly that it took a few moments to remember where he was.

His bright mint-hued eyes popped open and, at first, the delicate pink glow from the computer lights surrounding him seemed much too bright in the small dark room. Squinting, he arched his head up in annoyance from his place on the ground, trying to make out who had disturbed him during his much-needed break. The unique scent he picked up immediately told him this Irken was someone he was familiar with. He caught sight of the other Irken's bright crimson eyes and sighed heavily, dropping his head back down and rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"This couldn't have waited? I was in the middle of something," he mumbled. The Irken before him huffed out a short unsympathetic chuckle and crossed his arms.

"You were just in here a few days ago. Is this really how you want to spend what little free time you have?"

The Irken on the floor glowered up at the other and said, "And what about you? All finished preening today?"

The crimson-eyed Irken blushed and sputtered a little before settling and lifting his head haughtily. "Of course," he said, "you should try it sometime." It was well-known that this newcomer had an unusual affinity for grooming for much longer than was deemed necessary by the Empire; and, taking into consideration how little importance Irken society actually placed on the beautification of oneself, this particular Irken was quite a rare breed indeed. Perhaps he got his wires crossed somewhere along the line, or maybe he was trying to compensate for the unattractively long antennae he had had the disadvantage of being hatched with. He looked his companion up and down loftily, then raised his eyebrows and glanced in a disinterested manner at the cables ascending from the open ports of the other's PAK.

The Irken on the floor groaned. "Not even—just no."

"So be it, then. I guess you're too lazy to do some spur-the-moment training with me?" The crimson-eyed Irken gave the other a mischievous grin, arms akimbo. Ah, the Elite Trials were upon them, it was unavoidably on every Irken's mind.

"I was actually trying to forget about that right now. I just need a break," the mint-eyed Irken sighed.

"You can be a lazy smeet after the test is over. Come on Veld, your little dream world can wait," the other Irken urged. "I don't want to have to drag you with me. But I will. You know I will," he scolded. Veld, from his seat on the floor, stared up, scrunching his face in thought. He had really wanted to take it easy for the last few days until his scheduled test so as to not exhaust himself. Besides, his nerves were in a frenzy and the only remedy was to hook himself up to his charger as he was doing now. Still, a bit of sparring with Kad might help take his mind off the most important test of his life. He begrudgingly got to his feet as he disconnected himself from the cables. They slithered back into the ceiling, stealing away the last of that blissful, carefree feeling.

Veld sighed, deep and heavy. "Fine, might as well. Don't know what good it'll do this late in the game though," he grumbled as he smoothed his antennae back and followed Kad out. He was still in a sour mood, but Kad smiled at his small victory and nudged Veld with his shoulder.

"Cheer up. You stand a better chance than anyone else we know, and you know it. You're only second best to me," he teased. There was some truth to it, he admitted. He had trained all his life for this opportunity, and had studied his competition. That was why he had formed an alliance with Kad, one of the best fighters in their class. It was a strategic move; he had learned many of Kad's tactics and perfected his own technique with the Irken's help. They both were arguably some of the most qualified soldiers in their league, and would be up against many other highly-skilled Irkens who wanted the same thing just as much as they did. It was an intimidating thought, but Veld had acknowledged his potential and knew on some level he stood a very good chance. He could defeat any of his fellow Irkens with ease (besides Kad, that is). It was the final battle with the Elite at the end of the test that had him, well, more than a little worried.

Once an Irken acquired enough points during the preliminary battles, his final test would be to face one randomly selected Elite soldier. If Veld could hold his own against the Elite for ten whole ticks, he would pass. It would prove that he was equally matched in skill and prowess to his Elite counterpart. If not, he would have to wait twenty more years for the opportunity to try again. He tried not to think about that part. To be one of the failures—he didn't think he could even bear the thought. As he walked through the winding, circular corridors alongside Kad, dodging throngs of chattering Irkens dressed in identical red and purple uniforms, he felt his mind begin wander, a feeling of dread creeping in.

He sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that day, jittery with nerves again. Since he was a smeet, he had no doubt that one day he'd pass the test and be an Elite; there was no question to it, of course. But now, with so little time remaining before the most important day of his life, he wasn't so sure. What if he crashed and burned? He hadn't even thought about what would happen then. Shaking himself out of this anxiety-induced stupor, Veld decided to focus his attention on Kad, who seemed as confident as ever and not nervous in the least. Veld envied him for that. Kad knew he had it in the bag and nothing could tell him otherwise. When had Veld become so insecure of himself? He didn't remember it being such a prominent thought before. That definitely needed to stop. In a few days, he'd be an Elite.

The two had arrived at one of the many extensive training arenas in the academy, which was absolutely packed to the brim, as was expected. Every one of these aspiring Elites was scheduled to take his or her test at a specific time spanning a three day period, so each and every one was trying to get some last-minute training in. Because of their heights, both Veld and Kad had been selected for open slots during the first day. Of course, Kad's scheduled slot was much further up on the list than Veld's, which made him uncomfortable for some reason. Perhaps the pressure of having to perform at Kad's standard—most likely after Kad had already succeeded—was the root of his anxiety. Should he fail this test, Veld would not only be disappointing himself, he would also be a disappointment to Kad. That, to him, caused him greater distress than anything else at the moment.

"Stop it."

Veld looked up. "Stop what?"

"Thinking. Stop doing it. You're giving me a headache."

Veld rolled his eyes. Kad continued. "You have this certain look about you when you're thinking about stupid stuff, in case you were wondering. Your face always looks like you've just seen a Vortian porno for the first time."

Veld's jaw dropped at Kad's audacity. "Good Irk Kad, a little bit of a filter would be nice." He groaned in disgust. "Thanks, by the way, for putting that image in my head. Appreciate it."

Kad cackled beside him, dodging the slap that came his way after that.

It was all Kad's fault—he and his illegal streaming of Vortian television. Had it not been for Kad's incessant spouting of whatever vulgar or indecent garbage he'd learned on the UniNet, Veld would still be blissfully unaware of such obscene matters. It boggled his mind to think that (questionably) intelligent beings consented to such depravity. It only furthered his belief that Irkens were obviously the more civilized race.

But Irk damnit, Kad couldn't get enough of torturing him with it!

"You could always go and have your PAK wiped. Clean slate," Kad suggested.

"Very funny. But you're forgetting that they would probably question why I had so much data regarding…that in memory bank. They would inevitably trace it back to you."

"Even so, I'm too tall for them to do anything about it. No one can stop me."

"Shut your mouth and walk."

The two had finally approached the entrance to the massive training facility, thank Irk. After checking in through one of the entry stations, he followed Kad as he headed over to the armor compartments near the entrance to suit up. A row of twenty or so large glass tubes were lined up before them, all with several Irkens queued out in front. When it was his turn, Kad gave Veld a small nod and a smirk and stepped into one of the opaque glass tubes. Veld only slightly acknowledged the playful nod, too preoccupied with his thoughts to really care about anything at the moment.

He approached a glass tube of his own and squeezed his way inside, instantly consumed by darkness. Suddenly, an excessively bright purple scanner beam lit up under his feet and quickly skimmed over his body before cables descended from the low ceiling and expertly found their way to the open ports of his PAK, attaching firmly. Veld always found it rather invasive. It was a pretty uncomfortable process that he never quite got used to, even after a lifetime of doing it. After a few moments, data began to flow from his PAK to the computer above, notifying it of his name, rank, status, and any other information that would allow him out into the training arena.

Without warning, mechanical arms emerged from the walls, producing the classic Empire issue armor which swiftly and precisely secured the many different segments to the appropriate areas of his body. After only a few moments of the sound of machinery whirring around him and the sensation of metal gear being pushed and pulled into place, the mechanical arms retreated back from whence they came and Veld activated the door to let him out of the claustrophobic little tube.

To allow Irken soldiers to remain agile and unhindered while fighting, the armor was designed to be lightweight but still sturdy and protective. Veld adjusted to the slight change in body weight almost immediately and strutted over to where Kad was waiting for him. He had to admit, donning the sleek and intimidating armor, he felt powerful and invincible once again. He was reminded of his passion for combat and, quite suddenly, the unpleasant, nervous feeling that had been consuming his every day was replaced with that of excitement.

"See, you feel better already, don't you?"

"Yeah, whatever," Veld rolled his eyes, "let's find us a space."

"Won't be a problem."

Both Irkens made their way through the massive arena, having decided to first warm up a little. Veld followed behind Kad for a while, but noticed the taller Irken stop short at one of the nearest occupied training rings. He gave Kad a confused glance.

"Hey, you two there!" Kad exclaimed, gaining the attention of a couple of young soldiers who were in the midst of a little spar. Realization dawned on Veld's face and he rolled his eyes. Being tall definitely had its perks. "You know I don't want to interrupt your obviously important session, but I'm gonna have to ask you to find another space to practice."

The two wide-eyed Irkens seemed to require a moment to understand the situation.

"You want us…to leave?" one asked, noting the obvious height difference.

"That's what I said, yes? Come on now, off you go."

One soldier appeared disappointed while the other was quite apparently miffed, but both eventually slunk out of the ring, however reluctantly. Veld joined Kad at his side.

"We could have walked and found an empty one, lazy ass."

"Why should we have to do that when we can get one for no effort?" Kad insisted as he jumped over the barrier.

"That might be how you can do it, but I often find myself on the other end of interactions like that. You've never had the displeasure of being pushed around by people taller than you."

"Duh, I know. But that's why you hang around with me, so you don't have to put up with stuff like that anymore." Kad laughed a little under his breath, then added, "You're the only person I know who would complain about having perks that usually only tall Irkens have. I don't know about you sometimes."

Kad was obviously missing his point, but Veld decided to just drop it rather than actively try to get him to understand—because he wouldn't. This he had learned in the time since the two of them had met; Kad had a frustrating inability to empathize with even his closest peers. Yet, such behavior was to be expected from an Irken who had been advantaged in almost every way from the moment he was hatched—Veld couldn't deny that. This was the reason Veld had given up trying to get Kad to comprehend or identify with the misfortunes of others. Such notions just didn't incite a spark of familiarity in his PAK it seemed.

It went without saying that Veld knew Kad very, very well. He'd like to think the same was true for the other. Training and spending free time together was typical behavior for the two of them; after their morning group training sessions with the rest of their class, they'd accompany each other to find some snacks and talk while they waited for the afternoon session to start. At night, they'd usually meet up again for more training. They were as close as Irkens got to the idea of "friends", though neither of them would admit such a thing. It would be a waste of time and effort to have something as nonsensical as "friendship".

Kad jumped up, finished with his stretching.

"Ready?" he asked. "I want to warm up with something basic."

Veld nodded and made to stand up, but was immediately hit with a horrible, shooting pain that radiated from the middle of his back and bolted down his spine. He arched his back in surprise and agony and heard himself cry out as he slumped back to the ground. For a few moments, all he could do was try to breathe, as the strength of the jolt seemed to force all the air out of his body. His vision swam and he found himself resting on his side, his antennae scraping the rough floor uncomfortably. Nausea followed soon after and his whole body felt hot and heavy while his hands became rigid. His fingers curled up into claws as though they were tearing into flesh and they remained horrible stiff even as he tried to move them. A tingling sensation made its way through his extremities and for a terrifying moment, he thought he might faint.

He heard something then, something that seemed to come from all around him: crying. It was hard to distinguish from the static ringing in his antennae, but it was there—a female voice. It sounded as though she had been crying for quite a while, as her voice quivered with exhaustion. Veld didn't get a chance to analyze it further, because as suddenly as it appeared, it vanished again.

The excruciating pain had only lasted for a half-second, but was followed by dull, aching throbs that ran up and down his spine and even into his arms and legs. His own jagged breaths surprised him and he made a conscious effort to calm himself. Kad's concerned voice could be heard over the static-like noise that had assaulted his antennae from the shock, and he felt Kad's gloved hand on his shoulder, shaking him lightly. His eyes squinted open—he hadn't realized he'd even closed them—to see Kad's usually almond-shaped eyes wide and worried. Veld tried to form words on his tongue but all that came out was a pathetic half-squeak-moan sound.

"Hey, are you okay?" At least he could make out what Kad was saying. "Are you hurt?" He didn't sound particularly panicked, but Kad had always been skilled at saving face.

"I don't—," Veld started, but found he didn't have the energy to continue the statement. He tried breathing slowly again, despite the painful pulsating in his spine. What had happened? It came on so suddenly and it was like nothing he had ever felt in his life. It had to be a PAK issue, really, but the thought made his blood run cold. This couldn't be happening right now, not right before his big test.

He moved his hands under himself to try to at least sit up, to which Kad immediately protested but made no move to push him back down. Instead, he hovered over his prone companion with his hands outstretched, ready to offer assistance if Veld's strength gave out.

When Veld finally pushed himself into a sitting position, he took a few moments for the dizziness to pass and all he said was "Tallest, my spine," while trying to reach around to rub his back.

"What the flirk, Veld? What happened?" Kad asked, looking around to see if anyone else had noticed. No one had.

"I don't know, my—," he paused to take a breath, "—my PAK jolted me or something. Like a really painful electric shock." The lingering pain had significantly lessened at that point, but the aftermath of it still left him winded and confused. "Did you hear the crying?"

"Maybe you should get looked at," Kad urged, ignoring the question while warily watching him wobble to his feet.

"No way on Irk I'm going in to be looked at right before the test," he groused. "They might prevent me from taking it if they think something's wrong with me." It was true that every Irken had to be at full health with no prominent bodily injuries or PAK malfunctions to participate in the Trials. Veld was more than a little worried that this complication would interfere with his ability to perform, even though the odds were he could have the problem fixed in a couple hours if he went to have it looked at. But he wasn't about to take any chances. If whatever caused this spasm was actually a deep-seated flaw in his system, it might take more than just some debugging to resolve the issue.

Kad gave him a disapproving look. "I dunno, you're not very green right now…"

"I'll get it fixed after my test is over, okay? It won't hurt to wait a few days," he assured. Kad rolled his eyes.

"Flirk. You sure you feel okay? I don't want to train with you if you might drop dead any second."

"I'm fine. Seriously, all the pain's gone." It wasn't a lie; he actually felt perfectly normal. Perhaps it was nothing after all. Fat chance, but one could hope. He loosened up his shoulders to try to get his blood flowing again.

"Was there someone crying?" Veld asked again, but Kad gave him an odd look.

"Uh, not that I was aware of. Why?"

Veld shook his head. "Nevermind. Come on, let's do this thing so we can go get snacks," he teased, stepping back to put some distance between them both. He had to admit, the crying did worry him some. Maybe he could mention it when he went to get his PAK checked out.

"Fine, fine. But don't expect me to ease up just because you had an episode," Kad pointed out.

Veld smirked cheekily and lifted his chin to observe his companion-turned-opponent challengingly. "I was hoping you'd say that."