DISCLAIMER
Ross Bagdasarian Jr. and Janice Karman holds the rights to The Chipettes.
The Chipmunks are an American music group of singing anthropomorphic chipmunks owned and operated by Ross Bagdasarian Jr. and Janice Karman under Bagdasarian Productions, formerly Bagdasarian Film Corporations.
Simon heard those responses before from his holographic pad. Usually when sent on the yearly reconnaissance missions to various terrestrial planets to find any trace of life forms, from microbiological specimens to full sized plants to verify if the planet is capable of sustaining complex life but hasn't found ONE on any mission.
In his mind, he was basically sent on some getaways to new worlds for simple joy flights to get the feel of 'freedom' he imagined from this kind of work on top of making glorifying discoveries of life on alien worlds, all he had to do was have fun and look. Yet, the ease of searching for life for glory gave an empty promise to this job, having searched countless worlds across astronomical distances for even a tiny trace of life wasn't easy for a privileged cadet, only a certain few selected to explore outside of their own generation ships. Simon thought he could become famous by bringing back a microbe of a specimen and goof off if wished. He found no life, at all, throughout his line of work. His drive for fame to become the first person to find a habitable world full of lush, green life waned out by mission after mission with the same directive with the same result: no plants and nothing to do but fly around. After six days of searching here on Earth of all places, it gotten on his nerves, the mission appointed to Simon felt more like a 'down to earth' task as he called it.
Simon shook his head, closing the hood to a rusted pickup truck he scanned, continuing his search to enclosed spaces where living things are likely to be hiding from the harsh extremes in this environment. He tries not to react when he surprisingly gets another reading from inside a toilet booth.
"Identified: Specimen Negative."
At least they would have some microbiological development that would be enough to satisfy his scanner's evaluation relay and to end his inane search so he could go back home. He guessed wrong. Groaning in frustration, Simon closes the door to the port-a-potty, contemplating his thoughts.
Home didn't feel free either. He would usually return weeks later after traveling in cryogenic sleep, debrief useless information, and then end up spending all year training for the next mission in a cramped starship, it all felt dull and routine. After a while, he hated traveling onboard the Axiom Reconnaissance Vehicle in hibernation. Cryogenic sleep felt very uncomfortable to him, having to freeze and unfreeze hurt his skin and always getting confused too, having to wake up weeks later as if nothing happened and it interrupted his aging process. Despite the fact being only nineteen years old, he was technically younger by at least two years being chronically frozen for weeks at a time on several missions, slowing his age and prolonging his lifetime then getting back from missions only the worst part of a boring job. This directive something no one else wanted to do since no habitable planet ever discovered, but had to keep searching nonetheless. Simon would scout a planet surface once every five years instead of a group of scouts once a year, and they chose Earth, the least expectant of all impossibilities. The home planet long abandoned by his kind and humans for almost seven hundred years since the Axiom and other Buy N' Large starships left with the population.
So why search an already dead planet? Simon thought to himself, antagonized in his search of his next scanning. Even though he's never seen Earth, he didn't think he would since being born and growing up on the Axiom, Simon always dreamed of escaping the feverish cabin walls of the ship, having grown sick and tired of doing the same 'activities' as everyone else onboard that ship. Growing up, educated, and trained with his mindset onto the promises of timeless horizons of space looking for infinite worlds and skies to fly through, the ultimate freedom. Earth was so dead and pointless. Due to the fact Simon could only go where instructed, it made him think there isn't much freedom in anything. His prolonged life felt as if to be maroon in routine, no matter where he went.
His thoughts interrupted by yet another "Identified: Specimen Negative," after scanning inside a Buy N' Large replica of the Apollo capsule and slammed the hatch shut, failing to react not so angrily as he heard that negative chime.
"Identified: Specimen Negative."
All through the day, he got angrier and angrier by the minute at that sound after hundreds of readings. He finished what he thought would have productive results was in the cargo hold of an ancient Buy N' Large cargo ship in the late afternoon.
"Identified: Specimen Negative!"
"Aaaagh!"
Simon slams the cargo doors with all his might, screaming in frustration as he threw his holographic-pad over the railing and down to the dried up bedrock. His actions only fueled the fire as he stomped away off the ship to go find his holographic-pad and stop for the day, not noticing a metallic grating sound from behind him.
Before Simon registered a tugging sensation on him, the circular magnetic disk attached to a cargo crane yanked him off his feet and pulled to the disk, his whole body immobilized by the powerful magnetic field.
"What the hell?" he exclaims at what happened.
Oh bother! How could I forget this suit's magnetized material made of nanofabricated ceramic gossamer . . . He tries budging to no avail.
Made for skintight protective suits in the harsh environments of any extraterrestrial landscape! Still infuriated, he fidgets violently and flings the disk around.
Thin, comfortably smooth, and its own form of clothing almost indistinguishable from Egyptian cotton. He activates his antigravity servomechanism, trying to fly away, maybe swinging with enough momentum to break free.
It is still metallic regardless of its characteristic structure, Simon adds on to his thought as he almost makes it, but the magnet is far too strong.
What idiot puts magnetic crane up for lifting cargo but doesn't take it off? he thought, cursing all sorts of things in his mind.
After a few minutes of trying, Simon finally lost whatever patience he had left. He wrestles his hand for the plasma rifle strapped to his waist. He struggles as he pries it out of its harness, as it is also metallic. Save for he has the barrel aimed at the magnet set to low power, he closes his eyes and pulls the trigger.
The bolt of plasma melts through the magnet, releasing Simon as he stops from falling with his antigravity boots.
Finally free to release all his rage and anger from the day of not finding what he's looking for on the ship, Simon unloads discharge after discharge of ionized gas projectiles, screaming and cursing at the freighter, blasting full power at the hull, superstructure, and especially the crane, twice for good measure. One shot hits the petroleum tanks, instantly lighting the ship up in a ball of fire as he continues firing at the disintegrated ship in a blind rage. The raining debris of fireballs and his stray plasma blasts causes nearby ships to explode as well, Simon's anger lighting up the dead valley like Hiroshima.
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …
Jeanette watches in terror and awe at the sight of the chipmunk turned explosive on those ships, while trying to avoid flying flaming debris from her cover at a safe distance from the ship and from him in this state. In the week he has been here, she tried to get close as she can to him but hadn't recovered her confidence to get his attention after building that statue of him and it took her a while to pry herself free from those pipes, not wanting to go through that again. After seeing the chipmunk full-blown rage, made her scared to consider going over to him.
Now back on the ground after finally stopped shooting, the chipmunk's handsome face that showed murderous rage now blank from hopelessness. The chipmunk slumps over in defeat lost in thought, not taking any notice of the ships tilting over each other, creating a fiery domino effect. Jeanette notices he clenched his fists, hiding his face in his knees, wrapping his arms around his lower legs, saddened beyond measure, closed up on not finding a single specimen in an entire sector.
Concerned, Jeanette feels something tug inside her. She loved his gracious self, but she couldn't stand to see him so depressed. Jeanette wanted to go over to him and comfort him however way she could. Disturbing him would most likely worsen his god-awful mood and she would risk incineration by his own fury.
It wasn't until then Jeanette notices a shining blue screen along the burning debris in front of her. She picked it up, recognizing it as the chipmunk's holographic-pad. She saw him throw it almost in the direction of her hiding spot.
"Hmm," Jeanette looks between the holographic-pad in her hand then to the chipmunk, getting an idea that might actually work. She could return this to him and maybe he will at least thank her, maybe get an opportunity to talk to him. She would do anything for this chipmunk to say at least a few words to her. She looks back at the chipmunk and back to the holographic-pad in her hand, making a decision of running the risk of him killing her, but at least she would try to get close to him.
It's now or forever be a coward, she thought as she composes herself with all her courage and slowly makes her way over to his side not without feeling a bit nervous.
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …
Simon sat there unresponsive, face buried in his arms, exhausted from spending his anger and energy on the defenseless ship. His eyes threatened to water, Simon thought for a moment if he could have just put his energy into flying away, feeling free from directives and frustrating as hell readouts. Having already vented his willpower to even move, there wasn't much he could do to ease his pain. He felt for the first time true hatred for his job, cursing the planets he visited to having no life and cursed his superiors for selecting him for this meaningless safari. He wanted to block reality immediately, he won't respond to anything, wanting to go home and away from this hellhole. He wouldn't look forward to returning home either, wishing he could fly away from this life if he could...
Slow, careful footsteps to Simon's left caught his attention. His sonic detection automatically registered it as the annoying garbage chipette that kept following him around. He wanted to blast the irritating stalker on the spot, his plasma rifle next him, it's barrel still glowing red hot from firing continuously, its ion power cell fully drained and in need to recharge.
He heard another noise. The garbage collector sat no more than ten feet away from him, nervously shifted closer to him, tapping and fidgeting with her fingers as she whistled out of tune. Simon didn't bother with her, she seemed rather harmless to him.
Simon thought about the female chipmunk next to him. The way she kept following him and popping into his thoughts, something about her . . . He nearly killed her the first time they meet, he over-defensively presumed she was hostile, save for her innocent looks and curiosity the only thing present in her eyes. He remembers those eyes. The way she looked at him, she looked like a very lonely chipette, trailing him like a lost puppy. He also knew nothing could survive here as far as he could tell, being told all of the Buy N' Large cleanup settlements left on Earth died out long ago in six hundred, ninety five years of reconnaissance, the scouts sent from the Axiom star liner never found a single survivor anywhere. How is it possible for this living, breathing worker to be here on Earth? Could she be the sole survivor of a long lost government on this planet?
Maybe she knows . . . even better, maybe she knows where to find what he's looking for, she the only thing in his search of Sector NA-001 he hasn't bothered with yet. He thought of more questions like who was she? Where did she come from? Why is she here? How did she survive this world? His blossoming curiosity about her snapped him out of his gloomy state.
Only four feet away, she sat in an awkward position, apparently wanting to speak. Finally! He can do something useful on this meaningless mission and satisfy his inquisitive mind.
… … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … … …
You can do this, Jeanette repeats to herself, trying to overcome the growing nervousness in her stomach.
She is over a meter away from him, he probably knows she's there and hasn't had the ability to kill her for the time being. She is neither relieved nor panicked, still sitting next to him in awkward silence. The only sounds are the crackling flames from the burning hulks of the ships in front of them. She collects her composure, clearing her throat, ready to speak. She forgot what she was going to say, but she's going to say at least something to him.
"So what's your story?" the chipmunk spoke, turning his head to face her.
"Ah!" She jumped at the sound of his voice and looking at her so suddenly, falling over on her back in surprise and closes her eyes, preparing him to blow her away.
The chipmunk calmly tried to reach out to Jeanette.
"It's alright, it's alright. I'm not going to hurt you."
Jeanette had not expected that to happen. Jeanette realizes she was on her back and not dead. Jeanette sat up from the ground slowly and found herself in direct eye contact with the chipmunk for the first time since he arrived. Only this time, Jeanette didn't stare down the barrel of a plasma gun nor into the eyes of a trained killer. She glanced at a sincere chipmunk with no intention to harm her at all. He looked at her waiting for an answer, his blue gray eyes continued to stun her.
"You're very jittery aren't you?" His voice soothing and friendly, he seemed amused by her anxiety at the slightest of his actions. It finally hits her.
He's talking to me!
"What's your directive?" he asks.
"Vorn e Dzer direktivy?" he asks in a foreign language.
Still nervous, she tries to say something.
"Uuuh...Huh?" was her only intelligible response.
Simon blinks at her.
"You're a garbage collector, yes?" he asks her again with his sweet voice.
"Oh!" she realizes what he was saying.
"Um…uh…y-yes, yes I-I am," she stutters but not as nervous about him. Jeanette's voice sounded rough and dry, she hasn't used it for a full sentence in a very long time. Jeanette notices a pile of trash nearby, maybe she could impress him. She eagerly whips out her shovel and proudly scoops it all into a broken compactor nearby as swiftly as she could. The compactor grinds painfully as the rusted away gears try compressing the trash. At last, it spits out a cube, only for it to fall apart.
"Uuh….Tada!" she nervously triumphs over the sloppy cube.
"Oh." Simon looks at the fallen apart cube in mild amazement as if he never saw the act of compacting garbage before.
"What's your də·'rek-" Jeanette tries to speak, knowing the ice is somewhat broken.
"My directive?" he points to himself, which Jeanette nods.
"That's classified," he coldly says looking away, neither short nor cutting in his answer.
"Oh…sorry," she replies in defeat, mentally cursing himself.
Suddenly she remembered the holographic-pad he threw away. Jeanette quickly pulls it out of her pocket and hands it to him.
Simon looks at his holographic-pad in her hand, remembered chucking it over the railing because it drove him to madness, destroying a ship for not finding what he was after. He hates having to do that again or be reminded of it but she didn't know better.
"Oh." He takes it from her gloved hand, and examines it, it wasn't damaged and it's built tough for a frustrating job. At least he won't have to go look for it or replace it.
"Thank you, um-uh, what's your name?" he asks.
"My name?" she repeats.
"Yes," he looks at her for an answer.
She's never said her given name before or for as long as she could remember, speaking to anything or anyone in particular to share her name. She remembered it, it's even written on her uniform for that matter but hasn't said it for almost…forever. It's hard for her to say it.
"Uuuh…uhh." It's really hard for her to say it.
"J…Jə," she takes her time.
"Jə...Jə-Jə·NET!" she finally manages to speak it.
"Jeanette?" the chipmunk repeats it perfectly with his harmonious voice.
Jeanette's heart went warm the way he spoke her name. She coos at the beautiful sound of his voice that rolls off his tongue as he says it again.
"Jeanette," he lightly chuckles.
"That's a nice name," he smiles at her. She gazes lovingly at him.
"My name is Simon," he replies, pointing to his name patched on his arm under a single gold bar for the rank of second lieutenant and a green plant patch with Buy N' Large Navy - Axiom E.V.R.E.embedded in it.
His name the most wonderful word Jeanette ever heard.
"S'man." She tries to pronounce it but isn't very good with phonetics either.
She tries again.
"S'man," she fails once more.
"No it's like this: Sie·mən," he says his name slower.
Jeanette put all her efforts into pronouncing it right, only to worsen her speech impediment.
"SIM·inz. . ."
That slow stuttering sound made Simon uncontrollably chuckle, she's trying so hard to get it right and his pronouncing his name with a vibrating effect of a "z" sounded too cute. It made her look so adorable!
Jeanette is entranced at the sound of his laugh, his voice like music to her ears. She loved making him laugh so she says his name again.
"Simmons."
He collects himself after a few seconds.
"You're funny. But Simmons sounds good to me," he says with a smile on his face, making her more drawn to him, now she's up close, personal and on friendly ground with the first being she has spoken to for who knows how long.
The wind picked up, the atmosphere around them getting cold, the sand at their feet blew with the wind and the recognizable sound of howling draws Jeanette's attention away from Simon. Since the wind blew from behind Simon, she looks past him, and sure enough, a column of dust and sand headed their way fast.
"Oh no," she says half-panicking, her truck about a kilometer away and judging from the wind's speed and distance of the wall of sand, they had less than a minute before it hits.
"Simmons! We need to go!" Alerted, she moves to grab him and run.
"Whoa, don't touch me!" Simon warns, drawing his plasma rifle on her. Jeanette stops dead in her tracks but he doesn't know what's happening.
"Simmons look! There's a storm coming!"
Before he could turn around, the winds hit full force, leaving Simon dumbstruck of what happened. The sand now picking up and obscuring his vision, even his HUD is unable to shield his face. The gale force winds even extinguished the fires of the burning ships. Simon now disoriented in the blast of air and dirt all around him, difficult to not blown over. Suddenly he remembers Jeanette standing near him, only to disappear in the cloud of dust as the storm hit.
"JEANETTE! JEANETTE! WHERE ARE YOU?" he calls out to her, no response. It's so loud and visibility is zero. He panics, not finding any shelter, the only person who knows what to do is gone and he won't survive in this for long.
Suddenly he feels a rough, feminine gloved hand grasp his own for dear life. Simon may not see Jeanette but knows she's there.
"SIMMONS!" Jeanette screams to him over the blasting winds, she's still there, and he's going to live. Her silhouette appears in the cloud of dust.
"DON'T LET GO! FOLLOW ME!" Jeanette calls out to him, placing her ultraviolet goggles on her face, guiding both to the only secured place.
The foreign language spoken by Simon is Italian.
Since there isn't any information about where Janice Karman's decedents came from or any of her ethnicity, unlike both Ross Bagdasarians', I decided to based off the second language spoken in Australia. For those who don't know, Australia is where The Chipettes came from as hinted by Eleanor in the second episode called "The Chipettes." It is fully confirmed where they are from in episode fifteen of season three in Alvin and the Chipmunk.
Since English is the most spoken language in Australia and this is an English story (I live somewhere in the southern part of the United States), I went with the second most spoken language in The Land Down Under.
For those who are curious, the vertically centered dot ( · ) placed in between the enunciated words ("SIM·inz," "jə·NET," "də·'rek-" and "Sie·mən") is called an interpunct, which is used for interword separation in ancient Latin script.
