The Discount Smeet by Dib07

Summary:

It all started when Dib went to an alien market to buy supplies. He didn't realize he'd be going home with a smeet. Only, the young smeet slowly becomes Dib's whole world, and the human space explorer soon has to defend Zim against those who want all defectives dead.

Warnings:

Sci-fi adventure. Light swearing. Peril. Alternative Universe.

Disclaimer:

I do not own the IZ characters. However this story and this idea is mine.

The story picture I am using is not mine, it has been lovingly made by Sin Hogar/tenebrio. The picture is owned by her. Please do not use/burrow without her or my permission. Thanks for reading! ^^


AN:

Here it is, another update! 2 stories at once! Thank you again for the insane amount of reviews, and general love this little story is receiving! Plus, for a little bit of side information, I do realize that the first Tallest was... Spock? Was it? But I chose Miyuki because she was a lover of warships and stuff.


Heather

Hopefully this one is much more cheerful! Thanks for the review! I'm happy you like this little story!


Chapter Five: Getting There

"You win again, Zim."

This wasn't how he had planned things to go. He was slowly but surely getting more and more attached to the little mite, and Zim, well, Zim was already attached to him as if he was convinced that the hapless human was his new parent. Maybe it was because no one had ever been so gentle and kind to the smeet before (if you could overlook the recent bath episode), or maybe smeets just got attached to things.

With a beaten sigh blowing out of his lips, Dib selected a long, wide blue blanket and turned it into a sling. He double tied a fast, secure knot at his side so that the sling acted like a hammock: straddling the smeet to his chest like a makeshift baby carrier. Now he could carry Zim around and keep his hands free at the same time.

With Zim snuggled up and sucking on one finger as he slept in the sling, Dib went about to do his chores. The first thing he did was put all the wet, old blankets and dirty baby clothes into the washing machine.

After that, he began his daily rounds of the ship.

To save time and energy, he made his way in a circle through the decks.

To the stern were his cabin quarters which included the mess hall (kitchen), cold food storage and Med Lab. To the bow of the ship was the bridge and utility room. And below decks were the engine room, energy core and coolant tubes, as well as his tanks of reserved oxygen and recycled water.

He enjoyed making these rounds because it was his routine: his established practise that he had been doing religiously since his very first voyage to Pluto. Now he did it without even thinking, as a male lion habitually checked the establishment of his territory.

Much of the decks were in darkness, to save on power, and when Dib descended into the lower levels, the motion lights came on: ensuring that he could see the intestinal passageways and bulkheads.

Maintaining such a ship of standard size wasn't easy. If the ship was healthy, its passengers were healthy: for it was all he had to protect him from the extreme colds and vacuum of space. The ship was his mother and life-giver, but it was also his coffin: a sealed metal tin that flew through the abyss of death: the hull being the only thing that made life a possibility.

But it wasn't just the complications of an airless vacuum that worried Dib.

It was an electrical fire.

Like it was in the days of old, when wooden ships in the 18th century travelled across the seas, fire was the biggest threat on a vessel, especially due to the element's volatile nature and due to the concentrated levels of oxygen onboard. A fire untreated could be the singular cause of death. So, down every walkway, every deck, Dib had installed fire extinguishers that he replaced every time he returned to Earth.

The nuclear reactor housing the energy core had to be maintained too, and the coolants involved. To be a pilot you also had to have satisfactory knowledge on mechanical repairs, and knowing what tools to use, and what gear to wear. The energy core was radioactive, and the engine room was sealed behind three giga-ton doors that shielded the rest of the ship from its radioactive qualities.

As he bent behind the coolants and bulkheads, turning out his flashlight and checking the crannies for any damage to the tubes and wires, he felt the little six-day-old smeet move about for a moment in the sling, finding a new position to cuddle up in. Dib felt like a damn kangaroo, heavy with a joey.

He wouldn't go into the engine room, or the cold storage because of the bundle resting against his chest, but that was okay. He'd ask Blue to send him the energy reports to see if there was anything unusual: any kink or miscalculation.

And he was pretty proud of his cold storage room. It was jam-packed with every human and alien food imaginable for long treks. He had milk frozen in there, chickpeas and flour, fruit and packed meat. There was so much filling the shelves and boxes that it was like Blue Thunder was catering to an army of one hundred men, and not only lonely passenger.

Helplessly his eyes rolled down to the smeet again, and at his head leaning against his chest. He had not wanted to imagine living with anyone else on this ship but himself. He supposed he wanted to keep the smeet, but that water-in-the-basin incident had proved that he had not capable of looking after a baby alien. He was barely any good at looking after himself, and usually lived off scraps because he couldn't be bothered to cook up a decent sized meal despite his massive food stockpiled in cold storage. Whatever energy he had, he dedicated to the ship.

He went down a few decks and checked a long wall of interior hull on the starboard side. The ship had two layers, like with 18th century ships. An exterior and an interior hull. If, at any time, there was damage to the exterior hull, he had a space suit to slip into, and an additional spare suit in case something happened to the first one. In all his years of space travel, he didn't like going outside, into space to do repair work, because that's where things could go wrong. He liked being protectively housed by the ship, and being boxed in. He didn't like the open vacuum of space, or the thoughts it provoked in him.

He had a sudden thought, a revelation if you will, as he swung back to the main deck to approach the bridge.

He had stopped feeling lonely.

Space always made him feel lonely, emphasised of course by being the only one onboard Blue Thunder.

He had routinely maintained the ship, listening to music as he worked to push back the trapped feelings of isolation and despair. It was not easy going back to Earth either, as much as he enjoyed and looked forward to going back. Being suddenly integrated with his own kind only made him feel more isolated, more alone. He wasn't sure how to socialize with his own species anymore, or what to say without feeling awkward and different. He had started off as an introvert anyway in his younger days, keeping to himself: inventing alone, daydreaming and talking to himself. Now he was a fulltime loner, travelling through the vast deep with but himself for company.

And ever since he had brought Zim to the ship, that loneliness had shattered so cleanly, so silently, that he had hardly noticed.

He hadn't been talking to himself either; he had been talking to the smeet, even if the smeet wouldn't answer in return. He had even slept with him, and had enjoyed the close comfort the baby had offered: feeling him kicking and squirming now and then. And he hadn't had any bad dreams. Usually, every time his head hit the pillow in his private bedroom cabin, he'd fall into a black hole ripe with nightmares. He'd be falling uncontrollably through the stars on fire, or he'd end up lost in some quadrant, only to be eaten alive by black bipedal forms that had unknowingly boarded his ship.

The nightmares had been a daily thing, and then, even during his working hours, he'd think he'd hear a bang down belowdecks, and he'd cower on the bridge, positive that someone or someTHING had stowed into his ship without his prior knowledge, and that it was standing there, in the dark below, waiting for him.

It was like living all alone in a dark house, he supposed, and hearing something going bump in the night, only this was much, much worse.

Now, with this helpless smeet coddled to him, Dib had no more bad vibes, and no more bumbling paranoia steeped in unreasonable fear. He was no longer afraid of what might be lurking around the next corner, or what might be slithering amongst the shadows in the gangway. In truth, he hadn't even given these old demons a look-in. The smeet had got rid of them all.

And in that came the problem.

If and when Dib gave him up, the demons would come back.

Every single one.

Gently, Dib fetched out Zim's little hand from the sling and felt his tiny bones and his tiny, tiny wrist.

He suddenly wanted to keep him.

And then suddenly flinched against the idea just as fast.

I am no good to him. He needs proper care.

After the ship's routine scrutiny, Dib returned to the bridge: his main command room. He was always a little happier after he had seen to the ship's main metal bulk and seen no demons he had imagined were surely there, and saw that all was well and that there was nothing to mull and stress over. There were no leaks, no unbalanced chemical levels, and no kinks in the tubing that rode up and down the decks.

The ship was healthy as he knew it would be.

The central command bridge was always ready and waiting for him. The computer was on standby, and his current auto-pilot route was mapped out in a 4D model in front of the viewfinder (or main screen) that he could turn around with a mere flick of his hands to analyze distances and parameters if he so wanted.

He sat on the single command chair and engaged with the console. The set course for Irk was going without a hitch, and there was nothing to encounter for miles: no asteroids, no solar radiation and no solar winds.

Dib opened up a new datalink by typing on the console one-handed, while the other hand stroked the back of the smeet's head with unplanned tenderness.

"Hi, Blue. Anything to report?"

"No, Captain." The computer program answered in its cool, airy voice. "Everything is running at optimum efficiency. The Energy Core is stable, and the ship is running on 33% of its maximum power. Fuel levels are satisfactory. Oxygen consumption however is a little higher."

He liked receiving good news about the ship and its current energy systems. "That's because I have a second passenger onboard. His name is Zim."

"I understand."

"Blue, can you do a search on 'smeets' for me? Irken smeets? Anything you have on record, or from previous transmissions?"

"Searching..." There was a slight pause as the operating system went through its files, and that of the collective data gathered by the Aggros Federation Dib had previously downloaded. When nothing presented itself, Dib was sure Blue had nothing to showcase, but moments later she said: "Smeets are the puerile stage of adult Irkens."

Yes, yes!

Dib was delighted. Blue had actually found something!

"Elaborate." Dib said.

"The Irken smeet is a bipedal life form with augmented intelligence that is usually downloaded into their PAK after birth or 'activation.'"

"Excuse me? Pack?"

"PAK: an Irken computer attached to the spinal column and nervous system of every Irken."

Dib leaned back against his chair, suffused with all this sudden knowledge. "Continue."

"Smeets, like their adult counterparts, have antennae present on either side of the skull. They have soft bodies, and generally have up to one or two teeth. For the first few weeks of their life they are given highly concentrated foods that promote growth and brain development to assist them in the arduous mental tasks of later life. Adult Irkens are mainly vegetarian."

There, she stopped.

"And?" Dib pressed, feeling like he had only got a taste of what there was to learn.

"That is all I have access to. There is no more information on 'Irken smeets.' I am sorry, Captain."

"You're kidding!"

"I assure you, I am not." Replied Blue, who never had much humour, even though Dib had tried programming it into her system. But he wasn't ready to roll over and give up. No way. Another approach was always best.

"What about Irkens in general? Adult Irkens?"

"Searching. Irkens originate from the military planet Irk..."

"Which I already know..." Dib gave a forlorn sigh. "But... but military is... uh... new."

"Their newly formed Empire is expanding and they have conquered 9 planets in the Aggros solar system."

"Conquered?"

"That is correct. Planets are captured for more space for their military, for resources and prisoners. They are at war with all."

Dib felt appalled. He was getting the gradual impression that these little Irkens were quite the aggressive bunch.

So, to deliver a lost orphan smeet, I'm heading to a military planet?

Isn't that... bad?

It was bad enough accidently heading over to a military division back on Earth, on normal soil amongst other human beings who were primed and ready to shoot you if you did not heed their warnings in case you were a daft fool or a spy. And he wasn't talking about ordinary men with ordinary guns here either. He was talking about aliens, and not just any aliens, but Irkens with war ships, scouting vessels and highly advanced gamma guns that could cut clean through the distance in space and slice and dice through any adamantine hull.

They might not even hail him, and may deem his unusual ship as 'suspicious,' which would no doubt be enough to kill on sight without question. And then Dib's entire life: his very pitiful existence would end in a blazing ball of death in the blackest reaches of space, and that would be it.

"Their current leader," Blue continued while Dib hung, dazed in a daydream of his damnation, "is a Tallest named Miyuki. She is currently designing and expanding the Irken starship war fleet or 'Armada.'"

"Tallest?"

"Yes. To be deemed a leader, an Irken must ascertain sufficient height amongst their peers. Their hierarchy is built on height alone."

"Anything else?" He added when Blue fell silent.

"No, that is all the sufficient data I have."

Well, he had learned enough to leave a bad taste in his mouth. He should have known Irkens weren't exactly a species to welcome him with open arms, judging by the ones he had seen on Flaxier 19, and the way Rath could sometimes be. He had just though Rath was mad. Now he was beginning to see that the whole race might be a little crazy. Because apparently, they were at war with everything. Did they just wake up one day and decide that the universe needed their hand in violence? Or had something made the Irkens bristle into a new era of blood, strife and death?

Dib rested against the back of his command chair. Luckily he did have one other option, slender though it was. He had not thought of considering it up till now, but he did not wish to go anywhere near Irk and get blown to little bits.

"Blue, locate Irken Rath."

"Locating..."

He was prepared for it to take time. The ship's radar would now tirelessly search for Rath's starship signature, but to do so it would have to fight through vast distances and through radiation and planet interferences that had atmospheres that produced their own winds and noise.

"Keep me posted, Blue."

"Yes, Captain."

Very often his eyes would accidently trail down to the baby curled up in the sling. He could not help but stroke his head, or his arm that was dangling from the cloth.

"Pak, huh? Blue just said it was a computer. I guess it's not meant to be removed. I suppose I'll just have to ask Rath for more information on it."

Well, this smeet was out like a light, and Dib couldn't blame him after that traumatic experience in the washing up basin.

He took Zim all the way back to his private quarters and into the bedroom. Then he slipped the little thing out of the sling and into his clean, soft basket. Zim did not stir this time, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest did not alter. He was about as soporific as one could get, and Dib felt that he could get away with leaving him for a time while he went to check on the engine room and cold storage.

Back to being alone, with no assuring weight tethered to his chest, he went back to work with his solitary old comrade: the flashlight.

"Blue, give me a reading on the oxygen levels."

"Yes, Captain. Oxygen levels are at 22.9%."

"What's the temperature inside the living quarters?"

"21 degrees Celsius."

"And the outside hull temperature?"

"Minus 270.45 degrees Celsius, Captain."

Dib could not even imagine that sort of cold. It was a cold that vaporised flesh: the enamel on teeth. The hull had to be of great integrity to endure that constant hellish cold, and the resulting fire upon planet re-entry. So it was a constant battle against the elements to keep the inside of the ship warm enough for biological life to flourish. If the heating system failed, the cold would sink in, faster than winter, and freeze every surface, every nook and cranny until everything was entombed in ice.

To keep the heating system from working too hard, Dib had sections of the ship 'warmed' up periodically, while his living quarters had the heat regularly. The lower decks and the cargo hold weren't so well 'heat' maintained, and Dib shared out the heat just enough to keep the decks from freezing over.

It was hard work for a single person. There was so much all the time that had to be shared out, deviated and portioned. He was the sole captain, mechanic, onboard navigator and pilot. And it often scared him to think of what might happen if two things were to go wrong on his ship, and he could only ever be at one place, at one time.

There was a groan, and a soft clanking tap off to the far bulkhead, where the deck turned into a sharp corner and into engineering. Dib froze where he had ducked at a floor panel, and shone his torch light in the direction of the sound. His light accosted the darkness, chasing back the clinging shadows, but all he saw was the metal grid of the interior hull, the gangway of the deck, and the shiny black bulkheads.

"H-Hello?" He called.

The demons were crawling back to their usual positions in his head.

Could be noises coming from the engine. He thought. The engine was a hungry, noisy tyrant, that much was true.

The ship wasn't even that big compared to many he had come across, but it was big enough to play out ideas and twist his paranoia into something malefic.

"Blue... can you..."

There was a little tap on his leg.

Dib spooked so high that he swore his scythe of hair touched the ceiling.

He was about to blast it to the far corridor, scared shitless, when his wide, startled eyes fell upon the smeet. Zim was standing on the grating of the deck, looking up at him out of his large, ethereal eyes of delicate pinks and reds. He had his fingers in his mouth, and he was sucking on them. He was still wearing his fluffy and cosy blue and white polka dot pyjamas.

Dib staggered backwards, sweaty from the scare he just had. He pressed a hand to his forehead. "Zim? What the hell? How'd you find me?" The smeet just went on gazing wistfully up at him. "You're supposed to be sleeping! I could have swatted you! Be more careful next time!"

He tried to get angry.

And he couldn't.

"Well," he said, feeling a tad bit sheepish for having a go at a mute, "at least you're not crying and you haven't sweated through your new clothes."

He was pretty far from the sleeping quarters, but Zim had seemingly found him with little to no trouble, even though he had not been awake when Dib did his rounds. But he could only just walk. It was like he knew the mechanics of walking, with all the awkward experiences of a newborn. He stumbled here and there, bumping his knees on the floor like a spindly fawn, only to crank back up again. It was if his brain knew the logistics and wanted to walk, but his gross motor skills had yet to catch up with this same bit of knowledge.

Dib supposed this was what mothers and fathers felt like, when they'd tucked their little tyke into bed so that they could sit and watch TV, only, ten minutes later, the tyke would be up again, careening for attention and not sleeping.

"Come on, back to bed."

He reached down and tried to grab him. Zim ducked to the left, fell, and scrambled up again, just beyond Dib's reach.

"No more games, sweetie. Back to bed, before you go and hurt yourself."

Zim tried to run away, but really all he ended up doing was getting tangled up in his own legs. He fell onto the hard metal of the deck, his legs not coherently obeying.

Dib grabbed him and plopped the smeet in his arms. Zim at once hooked his little fish-hook claws into his shirt again. He was starting to make little holes in the fabric, of which Dib did not approve of.

"You're going to be troublesome, I know you are." He said as he strode back up the deck and towards the personal dorm. Once he had reached the bedroom, tired of going back and forth, he plonked Zim back in his basket and eased out his hooks for claws out of his shirt. One of the teddies he had bought for him had been thrown out. He grabbed it and eased it beside the smeet as he tucked him in again.

What could have happened, so early in your life that made you become a mute?

It was a question worth pursuing, but now was not the time. He would get the tablet out later, and try to discover more about Zim before he passed him over to another Irken. But this selective muteness only further proved Zim's intelligence, if he could speak that was and there was nothing wrong with his throat, and it might explain that something bad must surely have happened for the runt to be this... withdrawn. And withdrawn was the right word. For Zim had no passion to be with the other smeets in that glass box and he did not wish to take part in much unless promoted to do so. And he had cried and cried and cried.

"Look, I'll be back soon," Dib said in a half-hearted promise, "there are still some things I have to check. Now go to sleep, and no fussing."

It was like something out of that old movie he had watched as a kid. 'Lady and the Tramp,' was it?: when Lady, as a puppy, kept getting out of her basket and up to the bedroom to join her new human owners. Because, as soon as Dib's back was turned, Zim was out of the basket once again on wobbly legs, following him like a baby goose.

Dib pretended that he hadn't noticed, and as such, ignored the smeet trailing along behind him.

He'll get bored, and tired, and go back to bed on his own. Was Dib's adamant conclusion. He didn't know how to be a father, even for a day, and decided that the cold, distant approach was best. After all, Zim was looking for attention, and if he didn't get it, he'd surely go back to bed and sleep.

What he had yet to learn, was that Zim suffered from demons too.

Everywhere Dib went, his tiny shadow loyally followed with the dainty tap-tap of the Irken's bare feet on the metal grating. Whenever the human stopped to look at something with his flashlight, like a circuit board or a switch, Zim stopped too, waiting silently until his father started moving on again. This continued for several minutes, and then ten minutes until Dib started trying to hide from him. But Zim could not be fooled. He found the human time and time again. He could see in the dark, it seemed, for Dib had hidden down a tight dark space between bulkheads with his flashlight off, and still the smeet stood out in the lit deck before the bulkheads, waiting for Dib to give up and come out. When Dib did emerge, Zim giggled sweetly. He thought it was a game.

Dib crouched before the smeet.

"You're not making it easy, you know. I gotta work. It's not easy, running this ship."

Astonishingly, Zim went to open his little mouth, as if he might speak, when Blue cut in from the intercom system above them: "Irken Rath's stellar warship the Hazmat has been located on planet Kinyra, approximately 1 solar system away. He is in the Aggros system, in Irken territory."

That was where Dib had been heading to anyway, for Irk was in that solar system. But he didn't like getting any closer to a war zone than he had to. "Blue, what is planet Kinyra?"

"A luxury planet for the rich and frivolous. It is owned by the Irken Empire, but it is still freely allowed to commerce with its customers. Its new regiment is not yet as tight as some others."

Dib stood up straight and headed to the command bridge. When he got there, he brought up a new holographic display that showed him the Aggros system. His ship, Blue Thunder, was just a blinking, blue dot on the periphery of the system. His planned course to Irk was still mapped out, shining like a silver rope as it joined from his ship to a pink planet in the solar system.

"Blue, please divert ship to new co-ordinates." He started punching in Kinyra's location.

He could imagine Rath going there for some entertainment. He liked to spend. Usually the merchant Irken liked to open his shop on distant worlds where rich customers paid big, so that Rath could splash his earnings on extravagant purchases such as drugs and new weapon. He was also a bit of a gambler. Rath usually won too. He was a great mathematician who could see through the random throw of the dice, or the draw of the deck. Every card ever played or discarded, he remembered.

"The diversion will cost 4 gigatons of fuel. Do you wish to proceed?" Asked Blue.

"Yes. Proceed with the diversion."

He wondered what Rath would say or do, when he came, presenting him with a baby. He had a feeling Rath would not be impressed. For he was used to the solitary life like Dib was, coming and going wherever he pleased with no attachments.

His ship changed to a new course. Even turning in space cost fuel and energy.

Zim had caught up to him. He waddled onto the bridge, actively taking an interest in all that he saw. His antennas started to reflexively bow up and down as he lifted up his chin to see the giant console and instruments that Dib worked with. The buttons attracted him the most, for they were glowing in so many different colours.

He tried to reach for the console, even standing onto his tip-toes.

Zim whinged when he could get no closer and to further add to his baby frustrations, he delivered a nasty sneeze.

"Can't keep away, can you, Zim?"

Acquiescing to the smeet's demands, Dib picked him up, still feeling his ribs through the soft padding of the pyjama top. Then he set him on the console towards the front so that Zim could see the long, rectangular window depicting the ship's current trajectory through space. Beyond the holographic map and charted territory and into the hypnotic darkness were the most beautifully austere star systems that intertwined and sprawled in great long spirals for millions of miles in every corner that Zim could see. It was like watching tiny, twinkling crystal ice shards of dust. The darkness did all it could to belittle and devour these glowing stars, but the giant all-consuming black only seemed to make them glow all the more.

"It's amazing, isn't it?" Dib said in lost wonder. "I have an observation deck. I sit there, most days when my jobs are done, just sitting there, staring at the stars. No wonder the Egyptians were so fascinated by them. There is no other majesty quite as stunning as this."

Zim seemed to lean against his hands, looking up at the constellations with unconcealed delight. A shooting star, as bold as a firework, sprung past the bridge window, causing the smeet to squeak in excitement.

Dib smiled a sweet, sad little smile. He was going to miss the little thing.


Dib07: Again, I'd love to know your thoughts! Thanks for reading and hopefully enjoying!