By: Wafflecat
Part I
"Welcome to life, Irken child. Report for duty."
The first feeling the small smeet felt was sadness. An overwhelming sadness that shook its senses, and sent into into a rage of tears. It missed its small, cozy tube; the silent place where it spent its first few days in a life of unconsciousness. It quickly adapted its new senses: touch, hearing, sight--and was completely terrified of it all. The cold air seemed to cling to its pale-green skin, and a bright light was shining into its face. Wide, slanted purple eyes scanned the area in fright.
"Cookie?!" Its back stung from the freshly-injected holes in its back, and its new pak. Large, curly antennae bounced on top of its head, the curl bent forward. The floor opened, and the arm shoved it through.
The smeet tumbled through a small chute, falling farther down through the earth. It fell flat onto its face into a squishy chair at the end. It blinked; the world wasn't as dark as before, and the computer began to talk again.
"You are approximately one-point-seven-five minutes old, small smeet. You are in the download chamber, where you will be filled with all of the knowledge of the Irken race."
"Ir-kwens?" It grasped onto the arm of the Download Chair, and began to nibble on the edge with its gums.
"Prepare yourself!" It only blinked. A large, mechanical headset fell from the ceiling and forced itself onto the smeet. It grinned and poked its foot. Small tubes injected themselves through its skull into its brain. The smeet went blank for a few seconds.
The headset rumbled lowly--the smeet cried out and began to spasm, beams of lights zooming through the stray wires around the set. Its eyes lost its shine for a few seconds, before returning back to normal, and a long steam of smoke emitting from its head, floating towards the ceiling.
"Data transer has been completed. You have been given a name. IDENTIFY YOURSELF."
The smeet's eyes turned to small, glaring slits. "My name is Cat."
"Excellent."
"AND I'M HERE TO--" A pair of robotic arms shoved the smeet from the chair, giving room to the next small and innocent creature.
Cat marveled at the exuberant amount knowledge she'd been filled with. Yes...She was a female, with violet eyes, and curly antennae. After pondering for a few moments, and finally coming to the realization that this fact was hardly anything special, she was shoved down yet another chute. This time, she fell onto a large conveyor-belt. A long line of smeets sat in a row in front of her, all of them speeding along the vast room. Hundreds of other conveyor-belts ran below them, all filled with new-born Irkens. Above farther in the line, were a pair of robotic arms, adjusting some sort of clothing onto the group.
"Hey..." One arm grasped onto her own and pulled her up. Spandex black pants were fitted onto every smeet (some having more difficulty with the size than others), and were snapped painfully against their waist. Small shirts fell above the smeets, and were forced to have their arms raised. The black shirts were tight, and reached down a little bit past their stomach. Large flannel overcoats were shoved onto then lastly. Two zippers were forced up to their neck.
"What do the colors mean?!" One slightly bold smeet glared at the machinery. The overcoats came in the three recognizable colors of purple, blue, and red.
"Based on your skills from birth, you are put into your first ranks. Purple the lowest."
Cat frowned. Her coat was dark purple, and had a large Irken symbol sewn onto the front. The smeets were soon sent further down the belt to their last destination.
"Welcome to the Training Headquarters." They stared in awe at the great room that lied before them. Thousands of other young Irkens sat in high seats in a circular room, all adjusted with holo-visors. A few great Irkens to the side were fighting with alien simulators--future Invaders-to-be, perhaps. A few of the smeets stared hopefully at the older Irkens who were training in the far high sections of the room.
"You are all to be assigned to a room until you are either upgraded a rank, or until your training is completed. Please go to the room that corresponds with your coat-number."
Coat-number? The smeets looked down at the large, boldly-printed numbers on their coats. The belt stopped inside of a small docking station. The smeets climbed off, and began to look at their numbers.
"I'm number one! HAA!" A cynical Irken ran down the great hall leading away from the dock, along with another group of smeets. Some began to mill around aimlessly. Cat stared at the bold number 402 on her coat, and headed down the dark hall.