ON THE PLANET IRK

A young Irken sat behind a tube full of clear, green liquid. He tucked his knees up against his chest and held them close. His eyes were wide, antenna flat against his skull.

Stop, go away! Leave me alone!, his mind screamed. Images of blades, blaster fire, malicious smiles, dead, flaming bodies, and blood filled his mind.

One of his hands subconsciously traveled to his newest wound. A fresh scar on his neck. It felt raised and jagged. Jagged. Like the blade that was used to hurt him. He wanted it to go away, he wanted no more pain, no more suffering.

The image of the alien who gave him that wound played in his mind. The dull, yellow, bumpy skin. The small black eyes that sat on his face like many small pimples. His crab-like legs and his thin, long arms. The crooked and evil smile on his face, lots of shark-like teeth sitting in his mouth. And the knife. The knife. It's dull, jagged edge, it's brown, worn handle, and it's blood stained metal.

No more! Don't let them! Help!, his mind yelled out again. He felt his red eyes brimming with tears. He gasped lightly at them. Tears. A sign of weakness. Don't let them see. Let no one in. I'm not weak… right?

He tried to blink back the tears but they broke through. He then forced himself to quietly sob into his knees. He prayed the whole time that no one would find him. He couldn't be seen this way, he'd be punished surely.

His antenna swiveled as he heard footsteps, he knew who it was. Her footsteps were recognizable to him, for he knew her well.

"What's wrong?", she asked, her voice sweet and concerned. She then sat down beside him, her knees tucked under her.

He didn't look up at her. "I don't want fight for them anymore. I don't want scars," he said between his tears. He then pulled back the collar of his uniform and showed her his most recent one.

She gasped lightly at it. Never once had she seen such a jagged and ugly scar. "Oh, my. It's okay," she comforted him. "You may have to fight, but remember," she used her three fingered hands to make him look into her blue eyes. "I'll always be here, so, your fighting for me."

"I'm only twelve, why do they expect me to be a solider?", he asked, using his sleeve to wipe away his tears.

"You may be twelve, but your the strongest, smartest, and toughest twelve-year-old I know," she smiled at him, showing off her zipper-like teeth.

He glanced down at her pearly white dress, it was laying in the dirty floor. The edges already had began to claim a brown tint to them. "Your dress is getting dirty," he told her.

She looked down at it and shrugged, "it's fine. That doesn't matter right now, you do.

"Why do we fight? Why do our leaders make us fight? Don't they know how many injured end up here?", he gestured to the room they were in. The room, or building, was a hospital. Tubes of the green liquid all around them, some held injured Irken soldiers others did not.

"I'm sure our Tallest have reason, young one," she placed her hand on his shoulder. "We may not know, but we must trust them to lead us in a straight path of good."

I don't think you believe that anymore than I do, he thought. He leaned his head back against the tube and sighed, staring up at the pale ceiling. "Do... do you wish you could get away from this?", he asked.

"No," she said simply. "If I left then I wouldn't be helping anyone but myself. I'm a doctor, and a Smeet creator, I'm important."

"But... do you want to create more Smeets, children, for them turn into..." he trialed off. He looked down at his hands shamefully. "... me?"

"Zim," she said his name.

Zim looked over at her with his round eyes. Shame, fear, and sorrow was easily seen in the ruby red depths. "Yes?"

"I do not regret what I do, I help my people, I help my friends, I help my family, and most importantly, I help you," she told him seriously.

The young solider smiled graciously. "Thank you," he said, wrapping his arms around her in a hug.

"It's nothing, I'm here to help," she hugged back.

After a minute they heard a deep, and angry, voice calling from the other room. "Zim! Get back here solider!"

Zim pulled back and stared fearfully at the door. He didn't want to go back, never. He'd seen things he should never had seen because of this man. Blades, blaster fire, bodies, evil faces, blood. All of those things flashed through his mind all at once. He began to hyperventilate.

The woman grabbed him and made him look into her eyes. "Breath," she said calmly.

In out. In out. In out. He breathed slowly like that for a second. After he got his breathing under control, she helped Zim up and began to walk him back to the man.

The Irken man scowled at the young solider, a look of disgust in his face. "Where were you?", he spat.

Zim didn't say anything, only stared at his feet.

"Answer me, boy!", the older solider growled.

The woman stood in front of Zim and spoke for him. "He was hurt so had to heal him up, Private Jiu," she told him, anger lacing her voice.

"Stay out of this Ara," Jiu hissed. He then grabbed her shoulder and tossed her down to the ground. Zim gasped as he watched the act. He couldn't believe, well he could, he just didn't want to.

Ara groaned as she sat up, she had landed wrongly on her shoulder and you could see it. It was limp and slightly twisted. Without any thought she grabbed her shoulder and snapped it back it place. It made a loud popping sound and she struggled to not scream.

Jiu turned his attention away from Ara and towards Zim. The older man grabbed the young Irken by his shoulders and forced him to look in his eyes.

"Boy, you answer me or so help you I will not hesitate to punish you," Jiu spat.

Zim tried to look fearless and brave, but his shaking hands gave all hope of that idea working away. "I... I... I..." he struggled to find words.

"Speak! Or have you lost that ability like you have lost your bravery!", the private yelled.

"No, sir, I can speak," Zim said unemotionally. The comment on his bravery hurt like knives. "I had sustained a wound and doctor Ara helped me with it, sir," he repeated Ara's story.

"Hmph," Jiu muttered. "Come now solider, it's time we head back to the battle field."

"Sir, yes, sir," Zim quickly saluted.

The private began to walk away, outside back to their ship. Zim followed numbly. He didn't want to go back, he wanted to stay with Ara. He didn't want anymore reminders of his past, like his scars.

Zim walked side by side with Jiu, the ship slowly coming into view. No, please no, he thought pleadingly. The red-pink metallic hue of the ship seemed blood red to him. He saw his comrades standing at attention outside it. All of them a little older than him, barely thirteen-years-old.

The closer they got to the ship, the easier it was to tell that it had seen better days. Like the kids, Zim found himself thinking. He wasn't wrong, it was just sad that it was true. Not so long ago, those kids were happy, normal even, now they are cold, broken, demoralized. If only I didn't feel that, he sighed inwardly.

"Get aboard you lot!", Jiu ordered. Obediently all twelve of the Irken children walked aboard the ship and took their seats. The private followed and went to the front, to inform the pilot that they were taking off.

The ship hummed to life, slowly lifting into the air. Zim stared at the ground. No, not again, he frowned. Oh, God, save me from what fate I have, I'm not ready to die for something this stupid, he prayed silently.

It was too late, even if he wanted to leave, he couldn't. They had already left atmosphere, he wouldn't survive outside the ship. One day though, he promised himself.