Half-assed synopsis: An abnormal Irken female discovers that her life has been a lie as she and her mistress begin their trials on Earth. Will foreign concepts get the best of her defective mind? (ugh….summaries always turn out so friggin cheesy)
A/N: Hey, folks. You'll probably be really confused once this chapter is over, so I apologize in advance. Feel free to RR, give me some tips perhaps on how I can (if need be) clarify this chapter, because I hated it as much as you will; Too much skipping around and no exposition…not to mention totally devoid of the show's main characters. But do flame me gently…My ego is a delicate little thing, especially with this being my first published fic and all : Bear with me for the first few chapters, Zim, Dib and the gang will present themselves soon enough. I'm eager to get to that part, too.
And a Disclaimer: Guess who I'm not! That's right, Mr. Scolex, the reason for my damnation through idol worship. He owns Zim, Dib, Irkens anybody else I might use…But me…I own Hexa and especially Skibby. I dunno if there's a copyright on Spork. He's never mentioned in the syndicated part of the series…so technically, I can do what I want with him. WHEE!
Chapter I – Irken NormalcyWhen asked to tell about my life, I find it difficult to do so. The words that could convey it in my native language have eluded me for decades. That is why this narrative will be written in the dialect of the Earthanoids. Since coming to this planet, I've traveled many a galaxy, and Earth English seems to hold dizzying numbers of synonyms.
Many aliens have an interesting viewpoint on the Irken ways of birth. For forty years into my existence, the circumstances of my birth had remained unveiled to me, so among the Irken, I suppose I'm as much as an alien as the "filth" that swarms this Earth. Contrary to popular belief, though, I am Irken, though my features would not exactly suggest that I am.
I am quite small in stature, even for an Irken. At my relaxed antennae, I stand only at about four foot three inches. The antennae themselves are, more than a little relaxed, shall we say. They should hang down to my feet, but Mistress has invented a sort of "brace" which I sometimes wear. This keeps them loosely coiled and at a comfortable length just a little past my shoulders. With such weight to one's antennae however, it is predictable that they are less as apt for their functions as the antennae of any "normal" Irken. They are highly sensitive, people must bear in mind when they speak to me that a dull roar must be employed, otherwise I might think that they are yelling. I also have a unique bone-structure, and find it easier from time to time that I should run in the manner that a quadruped would, braving the ground on all fours. But perhaps the strangest thing about my biology is the tail-like appendage that is connected to my lower-posterior side. My mistress conjectured that it was the start of the development a horribly twisted and long third leg. While in incubation, my pod was severely damaged, you see. More on that later…
Before you condole me for my hideous little deformities, let it be known that they not once have created a liability. I find my tail quite favorable, it is a known fact that tails help to maintain one's balance, and my equilibrium may be a little less than calibrated since my antennae are so long. My mistress was quite supportive of me the first time she told me that my uniqueness was unnatural and inevitably frowned upon by the Irken government.
Not that the government mattered by the time she told me the odd tale of my birth. She and I were rebels of a sort. When we were given a mission, Mistress encouraged me never to suffer the Almighty Tallest and never give them the gratification of conning for my trust. She could not stand them, and I will explain why.
My mistress, General Hexa, is a very tall female specimen. In fact, the Tallest are concerned with the succession to the Irken throne, her height is such. But her height is merely what makes her eligible for reign, The Tallest are really afraid of what my mistress might do for the empire if she did come to rule. She is an indecisive individual, but delusional is what they like to call her. Some say that Mistress Hexa would liberate the Irken colony planets that she helped to create. Others survive on the notion that she would abuse the military, demanding a chaotic invasion.
In spite of all this speculation, Mistress Hexa would discard the chance to dictate the race at its first notice. She was far too content with her retirement and busy with her studies of me.
She and I lived in a place called Retreatia, an oasis of a planet. It was not a large planet, as it had been leased to us and only us. In size, Retreatia was no larger than a moon of your solar system's Pluto. It was a lovely place dotted with isles and lapped by gentle tides of an ocean.
Ah, that ocean. Such memories I have of it. When I was barely a smeet, Mistress told me to avert my curiosity from water, but unfortunately, curiosity pairs with my "condition". I did not listen and landed myself under her medical supervision for a few weeks. I learned the hard way about Irken reactions to Dihydrogen Oxide.
Humans, to begin to understand this condition of mine, you must know of the Irken way of life. The Irken are much less creatures than they are programs assigned to an age-long task. I was born during a period of unrest in the Empire. Two days prior to my birth, a crazed Invader by the name of Zim destroyed a lot of Irk's terrain, including the birthing facilities. Mistress tells me that I was the only smeet brought into existence that day, as the Tallest, foreseeing the deformities that would arise from this batch of smeets, called for a purge. If they were not already so, most smeets were rendered dead, but Mistress stumbled across my pod when she returned home from her first invasion, so luckily, I was taken refuge before that specific purge.
All we Irken carry these Paks. Paks keep order, I am told, but mine does not work in the way that most do. Mistress created an experimental Pak for me, one that gave no guidelines to my fate. For this, I am far more unique than just having a few bodily abnormalities. My brain is untainted, as Mistress likes to put it. She admittedly admires me for this fact, having no dictation of with whom my loyalty lies. It is mandatory among the race to have Tallest-supporting programming. This is the main reason that she resigned from her career as a military General. She wished to do something that no Irken had ever done before. She wished to "raise" me, as your parents did you, human reader. Of course, Irkens have no maternal instinct at all, so, considering normal Irken "education", growing up was never an easy task for me.
A study of human children shows me that they perform poorly when isolated from their kind. When I learned of this, I was oddly reminded of myself. Mistress and I were, as far as I knew, the only of our species. As far as I knew, the two of us were domestic to Retreatia. She sheltered me from a government that I had so blasphemed with my being alive. Thusly, for thirty-eight years, I knew nothing of the Irken nor that my deformities were deformities, nor did I know that I was a rebel experiment of hers.
In retrospect, it may seem a little selfish of her. She only allowed me to know what she taught to me, never giving me access to the knowledge that was Irken prerogative. Had my Pak been designed like any average Irken's, I could have easily known the mysteries of my past. I would have known the name of the language I spoke and I would have known what a "male" is. Pak's are encyclopedias, and mine had been sabotaged.
In any case, I know now that we are not well liked among our species. I believe the term used for people like my mistress and me is as follows: Defective.