Poe walked back to the center of the room. His boots clicked on the ground fast. To think I used to consider her a friend, Poe thought as he met Yumi's eyes.
"Hello, Master," she said, saluting.
"At ease, Yumi, we'r–where did that box come from?"
"What box?"
Yumi finally noticed the medium sized cardboard box to her side. In Irken was written "Books" in black ink. The box had no lid.
"Oh."
"Well I'll be …" Poe said, giving a small satisfied smile.
He looked at the top books, which were collections of poetry. These books were made of some type of leather.
"Are you happy now, Master?"
Poe nodded multiple times. "Very. Fine additions to my library I hope," he said as he picked up the box.
"How was the interview?"
"Went fine," Poe began to walk. "but it could have gone a bit longer."
"Why?"
"I liked seeing her so hopeless."
Was that cruel of Poe? Yeah, it certainly was. Usually, he'd say no one should take pleasure in seeing the misery of others, but, this was different. Tenn is … a bad person. I can't feel guilty.
The walk through the hallway felt longer than before. Just the books, surely. Extra weight on his body.
"Master," Yumi began. But she stopped speaking.
"Yes?"
"Why do you look so unhappy?"
"I'm … not unhappy."
Yumi was an intuitive little robot. Poe could never get anything past her. He reprogrammed her a bit too well, but he wouldn't change Yumi for anything in the galaxy. She was always honest, and kind, and reliable. And his best friend.
As soon as they left the hallway, Poe said, "Okay, Yumi, I may be a tiny … bit upset."
"I knew it!" Yumi said proudly. "What's the matter, Master? Aren't we doing the right thing?"
"Yeah, of course we are."
"Then why the long face, Master?"
Poe paused his walking. "It's just …" He remembered Tenn with a chain around her waste, looking utterly miserable and weak. She deserved it. Right? "I wish I could make Tenn a bit more like me. I wish we didn't have to leave her back there."
"I wish we could make Baccria like you."
Poe wanted to respond, but, this sickening feeling inside of him prevented any words from coming out.
The HMS Victorious–Poe's ship–was a gift from the Vortian Crown. It was jet black, with the monogram "T3" painted on the ramp door in gold.
"Alright, Yumi, open 'er up."
The ramp slowly fell to the dusty ground. As they walked up into their mobile home, the cling clang of the metal provided much needed noise to the barren landscape.
"Computer, prepare for take off."
"Preparing," a robotic voice replied.
Poe and Yumi traveled to the near center of the ship, which was a circled room. It was a library, lounge, and work space all in one. A lone wooden desk and chair sat off to the right in between two tall bookshelves stocked with leather books. Poe began to place the Meekrob books on an empty shelf.
"Hey, Yumi, how odd do you think Meekrob literature is?"
She shrugged. "I dunno."
Poe took a glance at another book cover. "Famous rock formations and their histories …"
"Sounds …" Yumi lost any words to say.
"Unique?"
"Unique."
"Y'know, the more I think about it, the more I realize that beings of pure energy aren't really like us," Poe said as he tossed the now empty box off to the side.
"Don't judge a book by its cover!" Yumi said, sitting on a red sofa.
"This is true."
Ex-Invader Poe took a seat as his desk. There, lay an open book with empty pages and a ballpoint pen. On the pen was engraved 'Honorary Vortian' and a tiny ducal coronet. That pen was Poe's favorite gift. Where to begin today …
The young Irken began to write his experiences since he woke up on the paper. He had decided to write an autobiography before he left Caparx, and kept up at it daily. Perhaps, after this whole rebellion was over, he could publish his life story and make good money for a fam—
Oh, he was getting a bit ahead of himself. What other Irken could he possibly fall in love with and marry, let alone have smeets of their own? Not only did Irkens shy away from natural reproduction, but every member of Poe's race would eventually discover of his betrayal, and consequentially come to hate him. Hunt him down, too. Poe wrote his worries and concerns in detail. He had to make the autobiography accurate for posterity.
"Master," Yumi called. "I made you your favorite lunch!" She smiled as she placed the porcelain plate of sandwiches on Poe's desk.
"Thank you, my dearest." Poe gladly took a bite. Nothing beats a smoked fish and scrambled egg sandwich from Caparx, he thought. "How are we on the ingredients?"
Yumi shook her little head. "Enough for three more batches. Then it's on to plain bread."
"Shame. We'll have to restock on the next planet we head to." Maybe I should've gone hunting on Meekrob, Poe thought.
"Master, should we call the Queen for an update?" Yumi asked.
"Ah, yesh," Poe said as he chewed. "I'll clean myself up."
Poe stood in the bridge with Yumi by his side. It was rather small. Poe loathed being cooped up there, and preferred to be in the library.
"Computer, call Her Majesty," Poe commanded.
The computer screen to the right dialed a number.
"Hope Her Majesty isn't busy," he said aloud.
A few moments later, a Vortian woman appeared on screen. She was sitting in a chair, hands held on her lap. Despite having her nation, properties, and most of her wealth stolen, the Queen still emitted a regal aura and wore an exquisite white and yellow dress. A golden tiara rested upon her head.
"Hello to you, Mr. Poe," Queen Trillia III said, giving a small smile. "How was the Meekrob endeavor? All went well?"
"About that … turns out, she was already captured by the Meekrob. Even more so, they refuse an alliance with us until we gain more races on our side."
"I see. Did you … kill Tenn?"
"No reason to. Better not to waste a good bullet."
"Fair point, my dear subject. As long as you and your adorable little robot are okay, I am content. We shall prevail in the end, because the Good Lord and Good Lady are on our side."
Poe admired Her Majesty's perseverance and general positive attitude. She was, after all, a symbol for the Vortian peoples as well as their true ruler.
"Your Majesty, how goes funding militias on Vort?"
"Not too good, I am afraid. The shipment of weapons I sent recently was caught by Elites during the ship's transit. But, the people do not lose hope. And nor will I."
"If you want, I can run a shipment to Vort mys—"
"Out of the question. We cannot risk your knowledge and skill. Do not feel too prideful, Mr. Poe, but you are one of our most important factors in the war effort."
Poe nodded. He was, in the end, the only Irken on their side.
"Your next assignment will have to be Planet Taraska. The Tarassi are one of the few races left who can provide warships, so please do anything you can to convince their king to fight with us."
"As you wish, Your Majesty." Poe bowed.
"I trust you will prevail. Good luck, and may the Tarassi succumb to your charm."
The screen faded to black. Ex-Invader Poe stood up straight and exhaled. I am glad Queen Trillia can still be so hopeful in these dark times, he thought.
At the back of the bridge was a board of photographs. Each of the Invaders were pinned on with a tack, their general combat skills and planet locations written below. Poe hated seeing their faces.
Taking a blue marker, he drew a big blue X over Tenn's face.
"One down, and many more to go …" Poe muttered.
He wondered when he'd use the red marker.
Poe went back to his desk. He had picked up one of the Meekrob poetry books to read.
"Yumi, do you think it'll be good or bad?"
"Hm … I think you'll like it!" she said as she played some strategy game with the computer.
"I hope," Poe said, opening the book.
The first poem was a ten page ballad over twenty thousand years old. The title was Ancients, and began with a primitive tribe. Poe scratched his head trying to make reason of the contents; this was proving rather intriguing, to his surprise. He thought the Meekrob didn't care about preserving their past or culture. The ballad went on to describe the rise of Meekrob dominance on their home-world, and the first mention of …
Poe yawned. Was it that late already?
"Time for bed, I guess," Poe said, rubbing his eyes. He had no real sense of time up in the stars. He simply slept when he was tired. I'll come back for the poetry tomorrow, he thought.
Yumi had already shut down herself for the 'night', it seemed. She lay limp on the couch.
"Goodnight, Yumi," Poe said as he patted her metallic head.
One part about Irken culture is that they never spoke about their dreams. It was very taboo to talk about them, as they had no real meaning in Irkens' minds. But, for Poe, his dreams had meaning: they were always the same memories from his past life. Constant reliving of events he'd, truthfully, rather forget.
Finally entering his room, the humble space was decorated much like a traditional cabin. Poe wanted his room to be as close to a home as he could get it, because metal walls and floors made him depressed. His bed was made specially for him by the finest refugee craftsman of Vort.
On Poe's end table was a simple lamp, and a little pewter statue of a fish from Caparx. It was one of his gifts from the Caparxitdon Emperor, so Poe valued it quite highly.
"Computer, I'll be clocking out for awhile. Wake me if anything goes awry. Is the course for Taraska still set?"
"Everything is in order, Master Poe. Rest your head without worry."
"Thank you," Poe yawned. He changed into his pajamas, got under his covers, and sighed with delight. He turned off the lamp, and lay in pure silence.
A quick thought of Tenn in her cell flashed in his mind.
No, he would not feel guilty. Not a single bit. She deserved to be there. Tenn didn't have to follow the Irken Empire's unjust war. She or any of the others could have done what Poe did: realize that it was wrong to enslave people. All of them could stop bombing and paving over planets, and then have their PAKs removed. Is it so simple, though? Poe thought, turning on his side. As far as he knew, there was only one surgeon in all the universe who was knowledgeable enough to do the procedure. Even then … there was a fifty percent chance Poe would've died on that cold surgery table.
All of these jumbled thoughts disappeared as the tired Irken fell into his slumber.
I would like to say thank you to vaultdwellerdead for being the first person to leave a review! You don't know how much that means to me, so let me show it by continuing to write this story. I'm not sure if it's passable or not, but this is both a practice for writing and a desire to get a story out there I've been dying to share with people. Just something I have to do, if that makes sense. Again, apologies for such a short chapter but I don't want to add things just to make it longer. I think Chapter 3 and others will be a bit longer, since I'm trying to make this feel like a novel. Well, that's enough words from the author.
Pax Christi
Song of the day: Vera Lynn - We'll Meet Again
