AN: I figured that since every great military has 'training' that they put
their soldiers through, that, well, Irkens must have some equivalent. This
is my take on it.
Invasion U, By Quaxo
Chapter One: Welcome to Irk, Smeet
She did not know much. other than the fact that she was a recent hatchling, her tube identification number was: 574-98-5627, and that she was supposed to wear the red uniform in her Recreation and Study cubicle.
Which she couldn't find right now. They had ordered her to wait with the other smeets (She must be one too.) for the next tour of cubicles. There, they said, she would be guided to her new living quarters when the next tour guide came around.
The tall Irken (how had she known that?) that came around the corner looked exceptionally tired.
"Alright, smeets." The Irken grunted as he adjusted his dusty uniform. "Now, you may be wondering how you know so much, but remember so little," She realized that this was exactly what she was thinking, he knew her so well! "Don't fret, its all a part of your embryonic programming. Ever since you've been conceived we've been playing tapes of the Irken language and culture. Now follow me, and stay in a line!"
They marched down the halls; her fellow smeets were given names and cubicles according to their numbers. It appeared they shared rooms with six other smeets. She was curious as to what other smeets she might meet in her own room.
"Numbers 574-98-5627, 5628, 5629, 5630, and 5631 are assigned to Cubicle 19A." The guide snapped, and thrust a pad at her. "Your names and instructions are on that list." The guide seemed anxious to get away from the room, which he eyed nervously.
"Yes, sir!" She and her fellow roommates saluted, and entered their room.
"Hey, there's one of us missing," A fellow female Irken with red eyes said. "There was always six to a room before."
There was a blur, and the five of them were pushed away as the door slid open and the blur disappeared.
"What was that?" asked one of her fellow smeets, she believed his number was 574-98-5631.
"I think that was our missing smeet." Piped up number 574-98-5628.
"This whole 'number' thing is getting complicated, what does it say our names are?" Number 574-98-5629 suggested.
Number 574-98-5627 looked down at the computerized pad thoughtfully.
"Number 574-98-5631?" She called out. A smeet with a high forehead raised his gloved hand. "Your name is Grapa."
"Number 574-98-5630?" A smeet with a pout raised a claw. "Your name is Kim."
"Number 574-98-5629?" Another smeet with a high forehead and a hunch raised his hand. "Your name's Sneakyonfoota."
"Sneakyonfoota?" Sneakyonfoota asked. "What kind of name is that?!?"
They all shrugged. Who were they to decide what their names were?
"Number 574-98-5627?" The other female in the room, with red eyes raised a hand. "Your name's Tenn. making me Zee."
She smiled proudly. Zee was a fine name, she thought. It was simple, to the point, and had a nice ring to it.
"So who was it ---" Grapa started to ask, only to be shoved aside by the same blur that had left before, only not so blurry anymore.
He was quite possibly the shortest male smeet she'd ever (not that she had much comparison), she thought as he stormed into the room, knocking over Tenn in the process. He was muttering quite direly under his breath, and flexing his claws with menace. He said the word 'Doom' a lot too, and it made her wonder if there hadn't been a malfunction in his incubation tube. The only other word she could discern in his rant was 'name'.
"What is your---" she began to ask, before the pad was ripped out of her hands by the short smeet who looked suddenly perky. She had no real basis for comparison, but she had the feeling that the word to describe this smeet's behavior would be 'rude'.
"Yesssss.. I am Zim!"
"Oh, that's just perfect! Even the defective smeet gets a name better than mine!" Sneakyonfoota whined. This, Zee found, irritated her. She didn't know why it did, but something told her that 'whining' was supposed to irritate her.
"Defective?" Zim asked in a dramatic tone. "Zim is not defective! It is you who is defective!"
That statement, Zee thought, more like the way he said it, should PROVE that he was 'defective'.
Zim turned his attention back to the pad, scrolling down and reading more. Zee resisted the urge to pout. The guide had given HER the pad, not Zim; she should be the first one to see what else was written on there.
"Yes. they have already acknowledged my greatness!" Zim said quietly, in a way that was truly disturbing to Zee, although, once more, she did not really know why.
"Alright, smeets, divide the mandatory rest units amongst yourselves," He said in a tone that Zee quickly realized was an order. "But be warned, those who mess with the mighty top bunk of Zim---" He gestured to the highest mattress unit in a stack of three behind him. It was already covered in what she recognized as Space Cola cans. "Shall suffer my wrath." He shook his fist at them for emphasis that really wasn't needed.
"Who made you Tallest?" the smeet named Tim said in a voice that had a slow drawl to it.
"Code 26.2.1588: In all matters during training academy all smeets shall defer to the oldest smeet; meaning me, until hormone inducement therapy." He tossed the pad back to Zee. "Check it if you don't believe me."
Her fellow, saner, smeets looked to her expectantly, and she quickly punched in the code Zim had mentioned.
"He's right." Tenn gulped, reading from over her shoulder. "His Shortest Stupid is our **leader**."
Zee checked up at the top where their names were carefully.
"Hey! You were only born thirty-nanoseconds after me!" She cried out with indignation. "It's not fair!"
"Dare you question Zim??" Zim cried, looking over his shoulder as he ascended the ladder.
"No." She said with meekness that she sensed would get her farther with Zim. "But I think my position as second oldest in our crèche deserves some sort of recognition."
Zim appeared to consider this. His eyes squinted, his antennae went back against his skull, and his lower lip jutted out with concentration.
"Yes! Zim has an marvelous plan!" He cried, raising both hands in the air, only to grip the ladder as he began to fall back. He pointed one claw at her. "You! You shall be my second in command. What is your name, smeet?"
"Zee." She sighed. "This is ---"
"I have no need to know these other pathetic smeets." Zim snorted and continued his ascension up the ladder.
Zee rolled her eyes. Zim was already getting on her nerves.
"I guess we should get our beds sorted out." She suggested with a shrug.
Invasion U, By Quaxo
Chapter One: Welcome to Irk, Smeet
She did not know much. other than the fact that she was a recent hatchling, her tube identification number was: 574-98-5627, and that she was supposed to wear the red uniform in her Recreation and Study cubicle.
Which she couldn't find right now. They had ordered her to wait with the other smeets (She must be one too.) for the next tour of cubicles. There, they said, she would be guided to her new living quarters when the next tour guide came around.
The tall Irken (how had she known that?) that came around the corner looked exceptionally tired.
"Alright, smeets." The Irken grunted as he adjusted his dusty uniform. "Now, you may be wondering how you know so much, but remember so little," She realized that this was exactly what she was thinking, he knew her so well! "Don't fret, its all a part of your embryonic programming. Ever since you've been conceived we've been playing tapes of the Irken language and culture. Now follow me, and stay in a line!"
They marched down the halls; her fellow smeets were given names and cubicles according to their numbers. It appeared they shared rooms with six other smeets. She was curious as to what other smeets she might meet in her own room.
"Numbers 574-98-5627, 5628, 5629, 5630, and 5631 are assigned to Cubicle 19A." The guide snapped, and thrust a pad at her. "Your names and instructions are on that list." The guide seemed anxious to get away from the room, which he eyed nervously.
"Yes, sir!" She and her fellow roommates saluted, and entered their room.
"Hey, there's one of us missing," A fellow female Irken with red eyes said. "There was always six to a room before."
There was a blur, and the five of them were pushed away as the door slid open and the blur disappeared.
"What was that?" asked one of her fellow smeets, she believed his number was 574-98-5631.
"I think that was our missing smeet." Piped up number 574-98-5628.
"This whole 'number' thing is getting complicated, what does it say our names are?" Number 574-98-5629 suggested.
Number 574-98-5627 looked down at the computerized pad thoughtfully.
"Number 574-98-5631?" She called out. A smeet with a high forehead raised his gloved hand. "Your name is Grapa."
"Number 574-98-5630?" A smeet with a pout raised a claw. "Your name is Kim."
"Number 574-98-5629?" Another smeet with a high forehead and a hunch raised his hand. "Your name's Sneakyonfoota."
"Sneakyonfoota?" Sneakyonfoota asked. "What kind of name is that?!?"
They all shrugged. Who were they to decide what their names were?
"Number 574-98-5627?" The other female in the room, with red eyes raised a hand. "Your name's Tenn. making me Zee."
She smiled proudly. Zee was a fine name, she thought. It was simple, to the point, and had a nice ring to it.
"So who was it ---" Grapa started to ask, only to be shoved aside by the same blur that had left before, only not so blurry anymore.
He was quite possibly the shortest male smeet she'd ever (not that she had much comparison), she thought as he stormed into the room, knocking over Tenn in the process. He was muttering quite direly under his breath, and flexing his claws with menace. He said the word 'Doom' a lot too, and it made her wonder if there hadn't been a malfunction in his incubation tube. The only other word she could discern in his rant was 'name'.
"What is your---" she began to ask, before the pad was ripped out of her hands by the short smeet who looked suddenly perky. She had no real basis for comparison, but she had the feeling that the word to describe this smeet's behavior would be 'rude'.
"Yesssss.. I am Zim!"
"Oh, that's just perfect! Even the defective smeet gets a name better than mine!" Sneakyonfoota whined. This, Zee found, irritated her. She didn't know why it did, but something told her that 'whining' was supposed to irritate her.
"Defective?" Zim asked in a dramatic tone. "Zim is not defective! It is you who is defective!"
That statement, Zee thought, more like the way he said it, should PROVE that he was 'defective'.
Zim turned his attention back to the pad, scrolling down and reading more. Zee resisted the urge to pout. The guide had given HER the pad, not Zim; she should be the first one to see what else was written on there.
"Yes. they have already acknowledged my greatness!" Zim said quietly, in a way that was truly disturbing to Zee, although, once more, she did not really know why.
"Alright, smeets, divide the mandatory rest units amongst yourselves," He said in a tone that Zee quickly realized was an order. "But be warned, those who mess with the mighty top bunk of Zim---" He gestured to the highest mattress unit in a stack of three behind him. It was already covered in what she recognized as Space Cola cans. "Shall suffer my wrath." He shook his fist at them for emphasis that really wasn't needed.
"Who made you Tallest?" the smeet named Tim said in a voice that had a slow drawl to it.
"Code 26.2.1588: In all matters during training academy all smeets shall defer to the oldest smeet; meaning me, until hormone inducement therapy." He tossed the pad back to Zee. "Check it if you don't believe me."
Her fellow, saner, smeets looked to her expectantly, and she quickly punched in the code Zim had mentioned.
"He's right." Tenn gulped, reading from over her shoulder. "His Shortest Stupid is our **leader**."
Zee checked up at the top where their names were carefully.
"Hey! You were only born thirty-nanoseconds after me!" She cried out with indignation. "It's not fair!"
"Dare you question Zim??" Zim cried, looking over his shoulder as he ascended the ladder.
"No." She said with meekness that she sensed would get her farther with Zim. "But I think my position as second oldest in our crèche deserves some sort of recognition."
Zim appeared to consider this. His eyes squinted, his antennae went back against his skull, and his lower lip jutted out with concentration.
"Yes! Zim has an marvelous plan!" He cried, raising both hands in the air, only to grip the ladder as he began to fall back. He pointed one claw at her. "You! You shall be my second in command. What is your name, smeet?"
"Zee." She sighed. "This is ---"
"I have no need to know these other pathetic smeets." Zim snorted and continued his ascension up the ladder.
Zee rolled her eyes. Zim was already getting on her nerves.
"I guess we should get our beds sorted out." She suggested with a shrug.