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:

This is perhaps my favourite chapter of the Discount Smeet thus far. This is for all of you. And I'd like to dedicate this chapter to all Irkens as well. Be they fictional or otherwise. P.S I fell in love with old Rath super hard. And this is again from someone who doesn't do OCs. Yes. It's official. I am a hypocrite.


Chapter Seven: Rath

Kinyra wasn't one of those dirty, poor backwater planets like Flaxier 19 was. It was a cosmopolitan place of trade, commercialism and business. The Irken Empire had no doubt bought or conquered it to reap these profits, and use the planet's business as a reliable source of income for their expensive warships and gear. As it was, the planet was filled with all manner of creatures, and there were a few Irkens too, standing off to one side, dressed to the nines in battle armour. And they carried weapons in their holsters or in their ruthless claws. They were there no doubt placed strategically to keep the peace, like the police on Earth, but here, they were a hardened, cruel icon: a reminder to the populace that they were the ones in control. Step out of line, and you deal with an Irken who's seen about as much bloodshed as the God of War himself.

Dib docked in the city of Emporium, and all the major buildings were covered in Irken flags of red and black.

He felt nervous being here, as he did on all crowded planets that held a certain, unseen menace to it. He wore his translating headpiece and he had his gun tucked away in his leg holster. There was not much else he could do to stay safe.

As for Zim, he had bundled the sneezing baby into one of his blankets, and carried him in his arms. On his shoulder was a satchel, full of Zim's stuff that Rath would need.

"Okay, Zim, here we go." He left the ship, locked it by applying pressure on his wrist device, and braved the crowds. Everything was in pink neon lights, as if he was in nightclub alley from the eccentric days of 1960. Aliens of royal status wearing robes gathered in groups, laughing and talking in their low garbles. Anamorphic animals that looked a lot like bipedal antelope came along the clean metal runways that were the roads carrying trays of little mini drinks, like cocktails.

Having all of his senses blasted all at once, Dib wasn't sure which way to turn. He had never been here before, and had had no inclination to visit the place. Zim peeked out of his blankets, watching with dubious fascination at the aliens coming and going.

The shops catered to all and every sin out there.

To the naked eye, the shop signs were all in strange symbols and etch marks, but when Dib dropped the eye piece over his left glass lens, the translator deciphered the symbols into English.

There was a Rinuah Factory shop full of various poisons and exotic drugs and how to apply them.

There were meat shops, whore houses (there was lots and lots of those) and gambling arcades heaving with customers.

The dizzying smells kept hitting Dib, that and the noise of the crowd. He could smell perfume, blood, sweat, and the exotic aroma of whatever drug had been ejected into the vicinity.

Every so often there was a break in the massive throng of aliens, and Dib would glimpse a soldier Irken in the midst, standing boldly in the crowd with a weapon in its claws. The crowd was so aware of them, and so intimidated, that they passed around the lone soldier like a river parting around a stone.

Dib tried to keep well clear of them.

Zim started to whine and sniffle, leaning into Dib closely in fear. He did not like the crowds and the flush of colour and whirl of noise. No doubt it was making him think of Flaxier 19, and the Nox merchant who had no doubt beaten him.

The human patted his PAK gently. "I'm here, Zim, I'm here."

Dib heard a loud slashing smack through the air close by. He tried to peer through the mass of aliens, for many of them towered over him like moving trees. Much to his dismay, through a gap in the crowd, he saw a soldier Irken whipping a trio of Vortians. They were all stripped naked, and patches of skin on their bodies were peeling away, revealing bloodied marks. The Irken holding the whip had them tethered to a rope, and all three Vortians were leashed to the rope. They wore collars, similar to what dogs wore. And they were on their hands and knees.

"Walk! Walk you filthy lowlifes!" The Irken had one eye: the other had been closed shut by a big, vertical scar. His eyes were a frosty, dark red.

He raised the whip again, and this time the naked prisoners did get up, and they hurried forwards, like trained animals. The whip came down on them anyway, stinging one across the shoulder. The struck Vortian went down, and the Irken went on whipping him.

Dib turned away, holding Zim tightly.

Good Lord, what am I doing here?

The throng of aliens continued their duties of buying and selling and whoring, as if they were all collectively blind to the Vortians.

Another Irken came over; attracted by the bloodshed like a hungry wolf to a kill. He was one of the soldiers who had been patrolling the street.

"That's it! Let them have it!" Cried the newly arrived soldier as the one-eyed Irken continued to whip the Vortian to death. The other two huddled by their fallen comrade, tethered by their leashed collars.

Dib wanted to step in and shoot that one-eyed Irken dead. But if he did, he would doom himself, and doom his smeet. He wasn't sure how many soldiers there were, stalking the streets like Nazis, but they easily outnumbered him.

As if frightened of what he had heard, and remembering his own beatings, the smeet started to cry.

"Ooh shush, baby, shush..." He began to rock him, which seemed to mollify the smeet.

On the search he went, trying really hard to forget about the Vortian lying on the street, and to forget about the new crease lines of blood that were appearing beneath the violent duress of the whip, and the look of pleasure in the one-eyed Irken's leering visage.

He pushed his way through the crowd, both arms encircling the smeet with his satchel bouncing against his hip. About thirty minutes later, searching high and low, he saw Rath up on a balcony that belonged to a giant restaurant and entertainment complex, similar perhaps to the giant villas in Las Vegas.

Rath was entertaining guests it seemed. He always was a show-off who loved attention about as much as Dib loved gadgets.

To avoid going through the main entrance where no doubt he'd be stopped by reception or security, Dib made his way to the elevator that took him to the second floor. On distant, high-tech planets, there were no such things as 'stairs.' The overdependence on technology was ludicrous.

Rath was sitting at a glass table with his legs crossed; drinking what could only be alcohol. His wizard-like staff of twisted wood and ramrod metal was resting against his levitating chair. He was wearing his usual dusty cream robes that produced an ochre shine depending from what angle you looked at it. Dib suspected it carried magical properties for protection.

And Rath and the Irken female waitress were conversing in guttural Irken, which alternated from bird-like quips to growls. A whole complex sentence could be shortened to just a few clicks of the tongue. A single name could be issued with a purr or an inflection from the back of the throat.

His headset activated, and he could hear the conversation in smooth English.

"Must we always have this argument?" Rath was divulging, his chin resting on one clawed hand, while the other nursed his crystal drinking chalice. "You should know that I win almost every bet. I could gamble all of Irk and come away with more planets that a Starfleet can blow up."

"You'll lose big one day." The female Irken clicked back. "If I were you, I'd stay clear of the military division. I hear they're calling in every Irken they can lay a claw on. A big war is brewing, so they say, and they don't have time for those who gamble."

"A big war is always brewing." Rath lifted up his chalice and drank the whole lot down with one big swallow. "Another, please. With some rinuah. I can't sleep without it."

"Of course."

When she departed, Dib pressed forwards, feeling unwelcome. But Rath was alone, or near enough alone. For the balcony was filled with other guests. Most were sitting at tables, and there was a stage across from Rath, filled with dancing antelope-creatures. He stared at them for a moment, memorized at how funny they looked.

Rath seemed to stare into space for a singular moment, trapped in anxieties when his long, graceful antennae jolted all the way up. He turned sharply to lay hard crimson eyes at Dib. His wary sneer remained but a moment when he discovered who he was looking at, and at once his face brightened and his antennae bent forwards, fully engaged. "Dib? Dib human? Is that you? What on Irk are you doing way out here in the Aggros system? I know you're mad, my friend, but really?"

Dib offered an apologetic smile. "I'm so glad I could find you! Is there a place we can talk? In... in private?"

But it was too late. Zim edged out of his blankets, revealing his head and antennae. Rath and Zim looked at once another for an uneasy moment.

"Dib." Rath said, one hand now gripping the head of his staff, "What is that thing you have in your arms?"

"It's a smeet. An Irken baby. Have you not seen one before?"

Rath quickly dropped his steely gaze on the smeet and looked around furtively. Everyone else was busy sipping alcohol and shooting drugs up into their arms. The strange dancers continued to frolic on stage, and the waitresses were diligently serving.

"Hide it for Irk's sake!" Rath rasped bitterly, dropping his voice to a low drawl.

"Why?" But he did what Rath asked, and covered Zim completely with the blanket.

"Why have you come?" The albino ignored Dib's question and demanded one of his own.

"I came to give you this baby! I didn't know what else to do! You are the only Irken I know!"

This did not seem to settle Rath. In fact it just made him look more incensed. His antennae, once raised to salute Dib, had now flattened right down. His oval eyes, as deep and as red as the colour of blood, narrowed as if he was spying for enemies in the happy crowd of drunken customers.

"Follow me. I know a place where we can talk."

He drained whatever drop of syrupy alcohol was left in the empty chalice, and stood up from his levitating chair. With the staff managing his every step, he walked across the balcony to the elevator: his cloak billowing out behind his shoulders like little furled wings.

Dib followed with growing reluctance.

"Stay close to me." Rath said, "And don't look at the Irken Elites. To do so will only incur suspicion."

Dib nodded.

Once the elevator had touched down, Rath exited it and headed on down the street. Dib kept to his side, holding Zim closely to his chest.

They went down an alleyway between two technological buildings that were covered in tall alien radar instruments. The radars looked a lot like giant kitchen forks, but covered in furry gadgetry and blinking blue lights. On the way there, they passed an Irken chieftain who had been standing on a curb, watching a flock of customers queuing outside a food shop. Holstered across his shoulders above his PAK was a plasma shotgun.

When he heard Rath and the human approach, he spun round to accost them.

Dib instinctively slowed his step, and went slightly behind Rath as he held his little bundle protectively.

"Here again, White Leper?" The Chieftain creased out a dirty smirk. "Spreading your diseases? I'm having you reported. You aren't supposed to be here. Stand down at once!"

Rath's answer was calm, and in his calmness he sounded formidable. And unshaken. "When the Tallest banned me from the Irken quadrant, she failed to state which quadrant. Now stand aside. I have business to attend to."

At this, the chieftain unleashed a deep, threatening growl. His green lips slid back to reveal his jagged, zipper-like teeth. "How dare you speak to a commanding officer with such insolence? I shall have you detained and deported back to Irk! Surrender or die!" He went to release his plasma shotgun, and simultaneously these long, metal constructs slid out of his PAK like nightmarish spidery limbs.

Rath picked up his staff and slammed its point into the ground at the chieftain's boots. A mysterious silvery light cackled and sparked outward from the staff's lowest rune, filling the air with alien static that made Dib's stand on end. The chieftain, from his impetus, fell into Rath as his PAK fizzled with silver electricity. He hammered home on the touch-pad of the shotgun, but the weapon was stun-locked as well.

Rath pushed the now limp and lifeless chieftain to one side. "It'll last but a moment. Keep calm and you'll be fine." And then he continued on his way, stepping over the chieftain. Dib stared down for a moment at the Irken chieftain whose eyes had rolled back into his head. He lay like a drunk who had just passed out.

He quickly went to check on Zim, and lifted a corner of blanket to see the same strange silver sparks running up and down the smeet's PAK as well. The smeet was limp, and unconscious.

He ran to keep up with Rath.

"What the hell was that? The baby's affected too! Stop! He could die!"

"No, no! That smeet of yours perfectly fine! It works a little like an EMP." Rath quickly explained, giving Dib a reassuring smile. "And it works only for a short duration. It stops any threats you see, in weapons and in PAKs. His life support will function as normal, but his cognitive abilities will be shot for awhile. It's fine, it's fine," he added when Dib was not convinced, "it's like a sedative. He'll wake in a few short minutes, not remembering what happened."

"But what the hell did you do? And how are you not affected?"

"Ah, trade secret, my human idiot! A smart Irken knows to keep his arsenal under lock and key, or everyone will learn, and nothing will be sacred."

"I thought that staff of yours just helped you walk?"

"A weapon with more than one purpose is a great weapon indeed." The albino returned with another impromptu smile.

Dib fell back, and Rath carried on ahead.

Shit. What am I getting myself into?

He followed, keeping up easily. "I hope you're right. Zim better wake up without even a headache."

"Oh he will, he will! Besides," he said as he led Dib down into a mechanized tunnel bright with purple light that made Rath's robe glisten as if it was specked in tiny crystals, "I thought you were giving that thing to me? Why then do you pay it so much concern?"

"Because... because he's been through a lot."

"Ah, so have we all."

They kept on walking, and they passed a few other aliens, some with blotchy grey skin, and others much taller than they.

Rath entered a wooded area where the tree bark was red, and the leaves were a luminescent purple. The strange flora seemed to fill the backend of the busy streets, as rubbish and rundown housing would do for the elaborate gusto of human cities. Even so, Rath kept going. To Dib, the place looked overgrown, and left to go wild, which was unsettling. The main streets, and city for that matter, were sophisticated, clean and precise - almost to the point of sterilization. But there it was the opposite, and the planet's bizarre native wildlife was allowed to grow.

Amongst these trees, berry bushes and scattered foliage were half hidden statues: some so grossly entombed in vegetation that their original stone material barely showed through the dense, clinging green of nature. The statues were busts of noble looking aliens with bulbous crowns for heads, narrowed eyes and frog-like mouths. Some of these statues were life-sized, gracing the creatures they once depicted.

Dib wanted to ask a dozen questions, but only settled on one: "What is this place?"

Zim wasn't growing heavy in his arms at all, and seemed to be sleeping restfully. His head was tucked in the crook of Dib's arm, and his little sides were twitching up and down as he breathed. With no one around now, he let the blanket reveal Zim's head. He was suddenly torn at releasing this little baby, and giving it to another he barely knew.

When Rath answered, he kept his gaze ahead of them, and did not slow his dedicated pace. "This place used to be the Kababito shrine. Before the Irkens came to Kinyra, it was once owned by a peaceful, powerful race of aliens called the Kababito who were telepathically adept. They linked hands, and meditated for hours, days, some have said. And that, through their mind telepathy, they could talk with the Beyond. With the Gods."

"What happened to them?"

"The same that happens to every race the Irkens come across. They were eradicated. But before they were, the Irkens tortured and imprisoned them, laughing at the very idea of religion, much less what it was about or did. These statues are all that remain of the Kababito. For no one comes to this place of red trees. We Irkens do not believe in ghosts, or gods, my mad human friend, but we do still sense a presence here, and it is not a friendly one."

"So... you're telling me... you Irkens slaughtered a bunch of friendly aliens to... to build luxurious cities on this planet?"

"Yes, that is correct. To build revenue for our war."

Dib slowed his pace. He felt truly lost now. He was surrounded thickly on all sides by giant, towering red trees. Their canopies of purple made him feel even more disorientated. "Should you be telling me this? Aren't you going to kill me now?"

Rath barked with laughter. Then he paused mid-step and offered Dib a wily look. "Yes, I really should, shouldn't I?" Then he looked back to the way he was going, through a path only he seemed to know, and continued on.

I'm putting a lot of trust in you, Rath. Don't disappoint me.

Dib crudely followed, stepping thickly through the bracken and fallen leaves.

At last they came to a half-demolished shrine. Two walls still stood, though barely. Bricks of metal had melted along the edges of these walls like the soft filling of a cake that had spent too long in the oven, and there was a scattering of ashen bone that was as black as coal at the base. The walls were huge, some six feet thick, and twenty feet high. The floor was once stone depicting mosaic patterns of alien figures. Now the stone was smitten with cracks, and what was left was being slowly covered up by black alien ivy.

"This was a Kababito shrine. A temple to their Gods." Rath said, stamping the butt of his staff on the stone. "No one comes here anymore. We are perfectly alone. Now, human child, explain all you can to me. And it had better be good."

Rath was such a strange contradiction: and he induced an emotional paroxysm that inflicted hope, trust, and doubt in Dib. He wanted to trust Rath, but there was always that scowl in his blood red eyes, and that dip of a tortured smile that always made Dib think that Rath was mocking him in some unspoken way. The way of the Irken was truly alien, and truly unknown to him. His antennae were raised, and he was grinning, as if flaunting his own powers somehow, his own command in the situation. What did the raised antennae mean? And his grin? He had attacked an Irken soldier, his own species! And wielded his staff like it was a weapon.

Now he was miles from Blue Thunder, miles from anywhere, with an Irken who had the power to kill him. Lately, this little smeet had been putting him in a lot of situations he'd rather do without.

"I went to Flaxier 19, to buy cheap star ship fuel." Dib explained. "I came across a Nox merchant of Halycon breed. He was selling these smeets. And I could only afford the one."

Rath produced his left hand out of the curtains of his robe while the other gripped the staff, and he made a gesture with them. "Hand it over."

Dib had battled his way to just this very moment, of finally finding someone: someone with a better knowledge on smeets. He had sacrificed his own time, more fuel, and risked a lot coming here just to 'hand him over.' So it was ludicrous to do otherwise, right?

The thing was, Dib suddenly didn't want to hand him over. Rath's eyes were impossible to read. They were dark, and full of crimson cunning, and his antennae were still raised.

And he had a perfect set of claws.

It would not take much to kill a sickly smeet.

Why Irkens would be motivated to kill their own young begged the question, but Dib had begun to see just how unhinged and blood-hungry these creatures were.

"Please, don't hurt him." Was Dib's parting request, and he held Zim out like he was a loaf of bread. Rath took him just as the smeet was beginning to wake up. All silvery traces on his PAK had gone.

Dib held his breath, expecting Rath to do away with the baby, as Irkens apparently liked to do with all their little manageable problems before they rooted. So he was very mollified when Rath merely bounced the smeet up and down a few gentle times in his claws to access his weight and stature.

"Strange." Rath commented, and an idle look of puzzlement creased his perfectly cynical facade, "I've never seen a smeet wearing... diaper things before."

"He's incontinent and he's a mute, Rath. I believe it's from emotional trauma."

"A mute...?" Further perplexity stole over the white Irken's face, and one antenna dipped down, as if silently put a question mark on his thoughts.

"I... I was hoping to take him back to his family. His name is Zim."

"Zim, huh? Well, that's a darn shame; Irkens don't have families, human. A clan of warriors is the closest an Irken can ever have for a family unit. And this smeet you are carrying is sick and underweight. Only defectives are runts, with diseases. Their PAKs malfunction, and they cannot grow as fast as a healthy smeet with a sufficiently working PAK. They are underdeveloped, and can have later complications in life, if they are allowed to survive their first year."

Unceremoniously, Rath dumped him back into Dib's awaiting arms as if his evaluation of the smeet was complete.

The smeet was rubbing at his big, shiny eyes, his antennae wavering up and down to hear them. Dib protectively held him closely to his chest. What Rath said didn't make sense. Defectives? PAKs? Was it like having a corrupted file in your computer? Or worse still, a corrupted computer that never fully switched on? That happened to fritz out of you at unpredictable moments?

But all Dib could say in his rousing fury was: "How can you say that? He's an Irken! Just like you!"

Rath sighed and placed both claws on the smooth top of his staff. "It is illegal for other Irkens to shelter defectives, even if they are smeets. We Irkens are merciless, as you are just learning. They would kill me, human. In fact, talking to you now is a crime punishable by death."

Now Dib was beginning to see why those other Irken adults at the market paid the 'smeet' stall no mind. It was better not to get involved. Better to hate. Better to uproot the problem and kill it.

"But... but..." Dib was stammering.

Rath inspected the claws on his right hand for a brief moment as if he was bored of Dib, and bored of the dilemma the human had found himself in. "It is quite impossible for a smeet to be stolen out of the hatchery he was born in. The security levels are high, and the hatchery is monitored by machines. No Irken as any time to deal with 'babies.' As I've heard, smeets that are found 'defective' go down a disposal chute, and are left to die in a pit outside the hatchery. Your 'Nox' seller must have gathered them out of that pit, put them in his ship, and taken them straight to Flaxier 19 for a profit. Then you came along, and bought the damn thing."

Dib shook his head, trying to blind himself to the cruelty he was hearing too much of. It hurt.

He wanted to appeal to Rath's softer side: a side he knew the Irken had. Why else had they come here in secret and defying Irken Rule, to discuss Zim's fate? Rath could have hauled them both to his superiors without a speck of guilt. But he hadn't, and by the looks of it, wasn't going to. Yet.

"Here! Just take him!" He tried to give back the smeet, but Rath just pushed Dib away.

"I cannot! The smeet is a defective! What kind of life will it have, if it grows up? It will be destined to live a life of isolation and destitution, as have I. Living on the borders of society is no life at all. It is savage. It is unkind. I was beaten to near death by Irken soldiers as they tried to drive me out! I was perfect on every mission I did. My scores were higher than that of my peers. But they couldn't see past that. They saw only the colour of my skin, and the loose coding in my PAK. To them I was a broken tool about to run riot against them at any time. And do you know why Irkens hate defectives so much? It's because defectives can't be controlled so easily. We are allowed to dream. We suffer emotionally. And because of that, we are the loose cannon capable of change. And the Irken Empire does not want a free thinker. They want drones with one hive purpose. One hive mind. Could you imagine what would happen if enough Irkens wanted to believe in something other than a war? Like religion? Like sin? Like self-belief? It could destroy this newly forming Armada and kill the Empire from within!"

Dib was in a state of perplexed shock.

Rath was a defective too?

He always knew that he was different: the colour of his skin was a loud exclamation mark amongst his fellow green Irkens, but the fact that he was also suffering this... PAK corruption was something Dib had not seen coming. What even was PAK corruption? To understand that, he supposed he had to have a full understanding of the PAK, and that wasn't his concern right now.

"Then... then what do I do with him?"

Rath's tone darkened, as if Dib had merely taken it upon himself to suffer the cost, and that he deserved the pain and responsibility it would henceforth bring. "You should have thought of that before you went and bought the thing. But there is one option."

Dib did not like his gruff tone. "Oh, and what's that?"

"You destroy the smeet before you get anymore attached than you have already. Defective smeets don't tend to survive very long anyway and you are going to end up with a whole lot of trouble if you do decide to keep it. But I'm here not to judge. Only to deliver sound advice."

But it did seem to Dib that he was being judged. Rath did not seem to have a compassionate cell in his body. This smeet was Irken, but Rath merely saw Zim as a dirty, useless tool that had no other purpose than being dumped in a waste disposal unit.

"So I guess I won't be going to Irk then." Dib stated with misery, trying to rethink his fragile plans on the spot while Rath continued to give him that condescending look. But his scrutiny made Dib feel nervous. "Is there anywhere else I can take him?"

"No. There is nowhere. You seem to misunderstand the situation you are in, Dib human. Irkens will destroy him, and any other alien race, be they aggressive or peaceful, will also destroy him. We Irkens are at war with all other races, including ourselves, it seems. To that effect, you are a privileged creature to be conversing with me on such a civilized level. If our circumstances weren't so...benign..." he said after a moment, as if he had been struggling for the right word, "then we'd be at each other's throats. If I were you, I'd leave that smeet right here, in this shrine, and walk away. No one will think any less of you for it."

Anger flashed through Dib again, as hot and as pure as lightning. "But he's a baby! He's not even a week old! He's innocent! Nothing deserves such abandonment! I cannot doom him like you would!"

Rath cantered his head sideways a little, and his eyes, usually narrowed about halfway, now closed to cerise slits that shone as pure as rubies in the light splintering through the canopy of purple leaves.

"So what will you do?"

Dib could not curb his anger, even though he knew it was pointless getting angry at Rath. Rath had obviously led a life of spite and distress, having lived an isolated life as an albino and a defective. He was speaking out of experience, and did not want Zim to suffer the same fate as himself. All the same, Rath wasn't exactly helping much. But the injustice Dib felt was all very real, so much so, that he could taste the bitterness of it on his tongue. A lot must have happened to Rath to make him so uncompromising, even when it came to the fate of infants. The same injustices had been practised on him, again and again. He did not want Zim to suffer the same fate: the same penalisation.

So what will you do?

Up to this point, handing Zim over to Rath had been Dib's final solution, as paper-thin as it was.

In all honesty, he didn't know, and he admitted it, because lying about it to someone as clever as Rath was just foolhardy. "I hadn't planned that far ahead. I can't keep him, Rath! I've got to go home, back to Earth! He doesn't belong there."

"You're right about that. Defectives don't belong anywhere." His candid response, so easily said, put a bucket load of ice down Dib's spine.

And Zim was wide awake in his arms, listening to it all.

What was he thinking?

Was he processing all of what was being said with understanding? Dib figured, based on what he'd seen of Zim's intellect, more noticeably the tablet Zim had written on, and he way he seemed to understand Dib's verbal conversations, that yes, he was could understand them well enough.

"You humans are infinitely soft, aren't you?" Rath concluded after some thought. "Rescuing every little broken thing you come across as if it's yours to save. The long-dead Kababito were very much like you humans. Soft. Caring. Healing every little sick thing that scuttled their way as if it made a bit of difference. And what happened to them? They died because they were weak: trapped as they were in their pointless compassion. If they'd spent less time believing in god, and more time building weapons, they may not have left the stage so quickly." When Dib did not answer, frozen as he was, still devoted to the smeet, Rath saw then the conflict flashing in the human's amber eyes behind his glass lenses.

The thing that Rath didn't know was that humans were incredibly a lot like the Irken race. Humans could be cruel, heartless, and violent to a pointless degree. Dib was an exception to that rule, but he didn't say so.

"Tell you what," Rath murmured at last, his antennae falling low, "I'll save you the pain and trouble, and I'll dispose of the infant myself. I'll make it... easy on him. He won't feel a thing. I promise."

At this, Zim wedged himself tightly against Dib's chest, squealing. His little claws knotted themselves tightly into the blue shirt he wore.

He knew.

He understood.

Dib tightened his hold on him, understanding the sacrifice Rath was offering: to risk his own life to save his human friend the 'trouble': trouble he had so innocently bought from a Halycon. Maybe Rath was not capable of suffering the same regret that bogged down every human: that guilt that served each and every path.

A small part of Dib considered how easy it was to pass this defective smeet into the claws of fate, to save Zim a life of hardship and poverty. But that small part of him was quickly closed off when Zim squealed again. His big eyes were closed, and he was pitifully shivering.

He just couldn't, even if it was the right thing to do.

"No." He croaked out. "It's my problem."

Rath nodded, as if he expected no less from his human friend. "Each Irken has his own demons to struggle with, and overcome. Yours shall be no different. I hope you have not made the wrong decision."

"Yeah." Dib said, crestfallen. "Me too."