Of Cyan Worlds
Hiya! It's me again. You may remember me from such fanfiction as 'What Makes Us Strong' and….well, I guess that's really my only published fanfiction. Recently I realized that I have neither the skill nor the patience to write another Action/Adventure story, and this idea had been stewing around in my mind for a while, so I hastily edited it and started planning out a plot. This is the result of my frantic thought process. Reviews will make me explode with glee. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Irk or its respective population and culture, nor do I own the two characters from Invader Zim that make a small appearance in this fic. However, I DO own Mariya, SALEI, Lalli and its respective population and culture, and at least partial credit for the Scout class.
The scene is Conventia, in an area much like that used for the Great Assigning, only….empty. Not quire empty, however. Approximately thirteen Irkens are standing there—five on a platform, and ten below. What about the extra two, you ask? Well, they're not as much 'standing' as they are 'hovering'.
Tallest Red: (whispering to a nearby advisor) How long is this gonna take? We've got better things to do than assign planets to some low-life Scouts.
Advisor: (also whispering) I'm afraid it's necessary, my Tallest. The public likes to see that their more intelligent children get a job.
Tallest Red: (sighs) The public isn't even here, though….
Tallest Purple: And nobody knows who their children are, so why would they care?
The advisor shakes his head, looking a little nervous.
Advisor: Ah…just do it, my Tallest, it'll be over soon.
Tallest Red: (no longer whispering) Fine. Citizens of Irk! All thirteen of you. We proudly welcome you here today to see the Not-so-Great Assigning! As you probably know, the Not-so-Great Assigning is where we assign planets to the Irkens that are too smart to be civilians, too tall to be Service Drones, and too wishy-washy to be in the Armada.
Tallest Purple: What he really means is that we'd throw you out an airlock, but the (sneers) public doesn't like that, so we have to just throw you on some distant planet and hope you die there.
The ten Irkens not on the platform look at the floor, obviously unhappy with their rulers' decision but too loyal to speak up.
Tallest Red: So, yeah…let's dispense with the formalities and tell you which corner of the galaxy you're technically banished to. Scout Zeppelin!
A purple-eyed Irken in a stripeless blue uniform walks up to the platform, just as nervous as all the others.
Tallest Purple: You've been 'assigned' to the southeast sector of…..(points to a map labeled 'Stuff') this place. Yeah.
Zeppelin nods sadly, takes the map, and walks off to a corner.
The assigning continues until there's only one Scout left, a red-eyed female in the same uniform. Her antennae are slightly curved at the end, and she's probably about five inches taller than Zim.
Tallest Red: Scout Mariya, you're assigned to….(points at another map, this one labeled 'Junk') the northern corner of the Junk galaxy. Mmmyep. Now, let's go see the equipment manager and finish this charade.
Quietly, the Scouts walk towards another part of the area. The platform follows them. This section has a line of what looks like smaller, purple Voot Runners, and a pile of strange robots.
Tallest Purple: (picking up one of the robots) This here is a SALEI unit, so called because they're standard-issue average life expectancy increasers. With the addition of the SALEI, a Scout can expect to live for nearly three days!
Tallest Red: (motioning towards the Runners) And these are Zith Runners. If you really needed me to tell you that, then you're not nearly intelligent enough to be a Scout.
Advisors: Take a SALEI, take a Zith, and get out of here.
The platform floats away from the group of Scouts, leaving them alone and forlorn. Mariya picks up one of the SALEIs, looking the strange little thing over. It appears to be much the same as a SIR unit….but with only one optic that stretches completely around its head, three antennae, no visible neck, and a slightly more orange tint to the non-gray parts of its coloring. She presses a button on its back, and the SALEI whirrs into life, its optics brightened to orangey-red.
SALEI: SALEI, reporting for duty!
Mariya: Er…okay, then. Let's go, SALEI.
Mariya climbs into one of the Zith Runners, and takes a seat on a green chair situated in front of a control panel. SALEI hops onto a purple cushion-stool-thing.
Mariya: I've never really flown before…back at the Academy, they only let me near the street vehicles.
SALEI: It's part of my programming to fly one of these. You never know when you're going to be chased by a Clashian and need all the additional speed you can get to prevent you from meeting death with nasty, sharp, pointy teeth….
Mariya: (staring) Are you always like that?
SALEI: (in a somewhat spooky tone of voice) It is good to be prepared.
Mariya: Oookay…let's just get to that planet, shall we? Here…
She hands the 'map' to SALEI, pointing at the appropriate corner.
SALEI: Ah, the Junk Galaxy. Only one known planet there, plus a moon. It'll take about ten months to get to there.
SALEI's fingers veritably fly over the control panel, typing in coordinates at a startling speed. She tries to sit back and relax, but falls off the cushion-stool-thing.
Mariya: Ten months? What am I supposed to do until then? I didn't bring anything to read.
SALEI opens her chest plate, and pulls out a rectangular box. Mariya brightens up immediately.
Mariya: Jen-ken! Hallejulah!
The scene fades away as SALEI sets up the game, which looks remarkably like checkers, on another one of the cushion-stool-things. Ten months of drifting out in space with only a strange little robot for company and a single game for entertainment. Things don't look too pleasant for poor rejected Mariya….but they can(and will) get much, much worse.
Kind of a short chapter. I've got a picture of that last scene, but due to my lack of a scanner, I can't put it up….gah. Anyway, like I said before, reviews will make me eternally grateful! And don't forget: plastic!