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Entry tags:	invader zim

[Invader Zim] Irony pt 2/3
Title: Irony pt 2: Sane
Author: Icka! M. Chif
Beta: Waywren
Word Count: 10,068
Rating: Teen
Author Note: Thanks to Wren for the beta! This'll be the second of three chapters. One to go!
Disclaimer: No recongisable characters belong to me, used without permission for no profit.
Summary: Meeting Zim had actually made Dib sane.

Continued from here

---

”Finally!” Zim gloated, tilting his head back and laughing.

It was a mad, insane laughter that would have sent any normal, sane individual diving for cover.

As Dib was neither normal or sane, he waited it out. It didn’t last terribly long, not for one of Zim’s laughing tirades. And Dib was used to it, after chasing the little green alien for the better part of six years.

Zim’s laughter abruptly cut off in mid cackle. “Waiiiiiiiiit.” He turned a suspicious badly concealed alien eye on Dib, leaning up to peer into Dib’s tired face the best he could. Zim never had grown all that much, while Dib had pretty much doubled in height. “Why is the Dib-stink suddenly surrendering to ZIM?!”

So Dib attempted to explain that he wasn’t actually human, but a clone. Zim didn’t get it. Irkens were born in a Birthing Facility, so what was the big deal-?

So then Dib tried to explain human reproduction to Zim.

Zim didn’t get it, At least not until Gir randomly decided to be helpful in his own way and turn all of the television channels in the living room to a wide variety of hard and softcore porn, cooing happily that it was his favourite show.

It took nearly three hours for Zim to stop screaming.

Or at least that was about the time that Dib finally passed out. He’d been up for close to 48 hours straight, skipped meals for most of it and gone through a massive major emotional upheaval. No matter how nice of a soothing white noise Zim’s high-pitched flailing screaming made, Dib’s body finally made its demands heard and shut down. He pitched forward, losing consciousness as Zim jabbed a shaky pointing finger in his face, a high pitched scream of “-And keep your dip-stick away from me!”

Zim probably meant ‘Dib-stick’, but as he landed on Zim, Dib didn’t have enough emotion to spare enough in order to care. He was hollowed out, empty.

He woke up surrounded in purple. A sphere of purple goo, the viscous liquid supporting his lanky height in its all encompassing grasp. He’d been in it before, on several occasions. It was uncomfortably thick, but he could breathe it, the goo supporting all of his body’s needs. He peered around, realising that he was up on Zim’s orbital ship, trapped in a containment sphere.

Zim cackled at him from the safety of a control panel, rubbing his hands together in fiendish delight, saying something about plans, glorious plans that were a long time coming and something about revenge. Dib really didn’t care, so he went back to sleep.

Dib rose to consciousness up a few random times, finding his guts on the outside of his body, his head transplanted on his ass, painful electrical shocks coursing through his body, his mouth wide in a mindless soundless scream. Zim was always there, on the outside of the purple goo, high pitched voice taunting him, reminding him of past pranks Dib had pulled on the Invader over the years.

This was for sticking baloney on his head. This was for the water balloons. This was for stopping his ingenious plans, time and time again.

Dib would stare at blurrily at him for a few moments, and then he’d go back to sleep, indifferent to what was happening to him. Zim could kill him if he wanted to; Dib was completely at his mercy. Zim probably wouldn’t kill him. But if he did, well, that was fine by Dib too, Zim had earned that right. Better at Zim’s hand than anyone else’s.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, drifting to awareness for brief periods of time before fading away once more. All he knew when he finally woke up and stayed awake was that it had been a while. His body ached in uncomfortable ways it had never ached before, like someone had tried taking him apart and sloppily put him back together again. But he could feel the reassuring thump of his heart, his lungs expanding and contracting as he breathed, and wiggle all of his appendages, so he figured he was physically all right.

Dib floated in the goo, looking around the lab. He should have been excited, he was in Space, in an alien lab, only a portion of the things around were any sort of familiar. Some of his paranormal tracking equipment was lying on a table nearby, the X-ray goggles easily identifiable.

But there was no ranting Zim. No dancing Gir. The place was abandoned, as far as he could tell.

He floated some more, staring at things, not thinking about anything in particular. On one of the screens, he could just make out the curvature of the Earth, watching it change colours from day to night and back again. Eventually he began to wonder if Zim was even alive. Had someone else captured him?

Visions of a multitude of human hands, sleeves covered in white lab coats, all reaching and grabbing the Irken, pulling him apart, dissecting him as Zim screamed filled his mind. Rage briefly flared, -- how dare anyone do that to his alien?! --, before flickering away again into the emotional void once more. “Computer?” He asked tentatively.

Silence.

His heart started to beat faster. Was Zim dead then? The fact that Dib was trapped in a bubble far above Earth’s orbit crashed down on him and he grabbed the front of his shirt in a nervous gesture, crushing the fabric in a white-knuckled grasp. “Computer?” He called again.

Finally, an apathetic “Oh,” filled the air. “You’re awake.” The Computer drawled, making it almost sound like an insult. Zim’s Computer was up and running. He wasn’t completely alone then. Relief flickered and faded, leaving him empty again. The Computer didn’t say anything for a few minutes. “Did you want something?” It finally asked, bored.

”No.” He shook his head. “Just checking.” Dib said awkwardly.

… That wasn’t what he really wanted to say. He cleared his throat, the best he could with the thick goo in his lungs. “Is Zim…?”

”He’s on Earth.” The Computer practically yawned. Down on Earth, Dib repeated to himself. Probably trying to figure out how to conquer the planet, with Dib being trapped up here. The thought should have terrified him, but it didn’t. “You’re boring.” The computer added.

Translation: Zim had gotten bored with Dib. Dib shrugged and went back to sleep, secure in the knowledge that the status quo was still being upheld, that for whatever else was going on, Zim was still trying to take over the world.

This formed the pattern for the next immeasurable amount of time. Dib slept, woke up, looked around. Occasionally, he’d ask the Computer a question or two, think for a bit, then go back to sleep. On rare occasions, Gir would stop by, shouting something insensible or gleefully carrying a piggy around. Dib didn’t see Zim.

Slowly, numbness grew into boredom. There wasn’t anything he could do while awake except think, and he didn’t want to think. At least not yet. And Dib wasn’t the tiny 10 year old he’d once been. While the sphere was luxurious enough for a child, it really wasn’t designed for a tall skinny teenager. He couldn’t stretch his limbs completely out, just kind of float there in a very loose fetal position.

He was starting to get the first touches of twitching claustrophobia when he managed to be awake when Gir made one of his random trips past, sucking happily on a slushie and carrying a stuffed piggy with him. Dib couldn’t help the reflective twitch when he saw the piggy. It’d been years and he still couldn’t explain the twinge of panic he got every time he saw a piggy. He leaned forward, hands pressed against the edges of the sphere. “Gir!”

The tiny robot pulled the straw of the slushie out of his mouth with a loud ‘pop!’, giving him a wide messy grin. “Hiya Big-Head Boy!” Gir cheered, running up to press the face of the piggy against the sphere, distorting the already gross pink piggy face.

”Hi Gir.” He twitched and gave Gir a lopsided smile. “I was wondering… Um. Could you let me out of here?”

”Uhhhhhhhhhhhhh….” Gir gave him a long blank look, as if the noise was stuck in his vocaliser. “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… Okay!”

”Really?” Dib blinked. That’d been surprisingly easy.

”Uh-huh.” Gir nodded. “Buuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuttt….” This was said in a high-pitched sing song.

He should have known there was a catch. “But?”

”YOU GOTTA DANCE WITH ME!” Gir loudly screeched.

”Alright.” Embarrassing, but liveable. ”Whatever.”

Gir tilted his head to the side. “Really?” He asked sceptically.

”Sure.” Dib shrugged. “Why not?” It wasn’t like he had any pride left anyway.

”Gneee!!!” Gir shrieked happily, flailing around to music that only he could hear, the slushie cup flying off in some random direction as he waved the piggy. Dib shrugged again and snapped his fingers and moved the best he could through the thick liquid. Which wasn’t all that well. Gir seemed to be happy by the effort as the tiny robot squeaked, bopping closer to the control before bringing the piggy down on a button.

Dib wasn’t at all prepared for the sphere to suddenly break, sending the purple goo all over the floor and ungracefully depositing him on the hard floor. He sputtered and coughed, great big hacking handfuls of the viscous material draining itself out of his sinuses and lungs. He flailed, then levered himself to his hands and knees just before his stomach added its complaints as well as he regurgitated what felt like the majority of his digestive system all over the floor.

The worst of it ultimately passed, and he collapsed, rolling to his side, his limbs trembling and shaky as they adjusted to being able to move without the liquid supporting him. He groaned. Okay, possibly not one of his better ideas.

He looked up to see Gir staring down at him, one of the robot’s hands in its mouth with a thoughtful expression on his face. “You dance funny.” Gir took the hand out of its mouth to cheerfully inform Dib before giving a happy shriek and running off who knew where.

Dib watched him go, for a moment, then closed his eyes and drifted off again on the wet uncomfortable floor with the occasionally wheezing cough.

When he rose to consciousness again, the world was purple. He coughed, reaching up and pulling off his glasses. The world became blurry, but multi-hued again. He wiped his glasses off the best he could with his fingers, then put them on again. Still blurry, but he could now make out that he was covered in a thin layer of dried purple stuff. It crackled when he sat up, feeling weak, but better than he had in recent memory. It took him a bit to get to his feet, moving in stops and stages before he was able to stand up all the way. He wobbled slightly, looking down at the floor as he panted heavily, realising that he appallingly out of shape.

He lurched around, one hand pressing up against the wall or various pipes and tables for balance as he made his way to the portal that showed the glimmering Earth below. He sat down on the floor once he made it there, feeling worn out like a rag doll as he stared down at the swirling colours below him. Blue, green, brown, white. No angry red or stormy black, no signs of massive fires scorching the land. “Zim hasn’t conquered Earth.” He said quietly.

”… Meh.” The Computer commented, uninterested.

Dib said nothing further, watching the world swirl past, trying to figure out what to do from here. His eyelids grew heavy as stared, eventually closing as he drifted off to sleep again.

He dreamt of alien worlds.

His stomach woke him up later, growling hungrily. Without the goop feeding him, he needed to eat. And drink. “Computer?” He asked, looking up. Dib wasn’t entirely sure where the computer really was, but the voice usually seemed to come from above. “Is there anything I can eat here?”

The Computer made some soft noises, not quite clicks and hums like Earth computers. “If you have to.” It grudgingly sighed. A panel lit up, a triangular shape pointing away. He struggled to his feet and followed it. Various panels lit up, directing him to a different room of the ship, where he found some days old pizza slices and a slushie, probably left over from Gir. Dib carefully inspected it for any strange ingredients, like soap, found a surplus of bacon on it instead, and carefully started nibbling on the dry pizza, alternating with sips from the slushie.

Blue Raspberry, he decided, was his new most favourite flavour ever.

”Thank you.” He said, around a mouthful of crumbs as he ate, trying to remember not to shove everything into his mouth at once, some remnants of a half-remembered a first aid class floating through his mind. The Computer didn’t say anything, but he was okay with that.

He slept again, and woke up feeling much more like himself, with some energy. There was more pizza, fresher this time, and with anchovies. There was also a full slushie, chocolate bubblegum flavour. It wasn’t quite as good as the blue raspberry, but it was passable. The anchovies got too salty to stomach after a while and he started picking them off, ignoring the odd fishy after taste they left in his mouth.

Stomach content, at least for the moment since he was a growing teenage boy and all, he started wandering around the labs. He kept his hands in his pockets, not touching anything with his fingers, only with his eyes. Occasionally he flicked a bit of dried purple goo off his clothing, debating if it was possible to take a shower up here. Or some other way of getting clean. Either way, was not a high priority.

There wasn’t any sign of Zim or Gir on the space station. Dib had a feeling that Gir went pretty much where he pleased, but Zim’s absence was slightly worrisome.

He found his duffel, the contents spread out like some sort of experiment, each one carefully tagged and labelled. He stared at the objects stupidly for a while, the Earthen technology looking woefully primitive on the highly technologically advanced alien spaceship. His ‘X-Scope’, a black pair of x-ray goggles, were drew his attention. They were one of his favourite paranormal finding tools since the one day at skool when Zim started replacing classmates’ organs with inanimate objects. They were useful for all sorts of things, mainly looking through walls to ensure nothing was going to jump out at him while he was on the prowl.

Dib picked them up, turning the familiar worn goggles in his hands for a long moment. He wasn’t completely human, surely there had to be something to show that. And he knew that while his appearance was completely human, but he’d never bothered to check the inside of himself. He slipped the X-Scope over his head, staring down at himself through the green lenses.

His arms and legs were easy enough to check as he held them out in front himself, the X-Scope bringing up the technical terms for the various bones and organs. The phalanges were connected to the metatarsal, the metatarsal were connected to the tarsal, the tarsal were connected to the tibia and fibula… Everything looked correct .

Examining his torso required some contortions however, since reflective surfaces didn’t work with the X-Scope, the goggles simply looked through any mirrors. Not that he could find any reflective surfaces on the ship, everything was bright solid colours of magenta, lime green and purple. Irkens had a really strange colour sense.

It dawned on him as he looked at his hip bones that had he not been quite so intently focused on the paranormal, that he could have probably spent the past several years staring through people’s clothing with the X-Scope. Huh. Somehow, he doubted that would have made girls any less of a mystery…

The X-scope continued to scan and read out his bones and organs. He was fine right up until he got to the area just below his beating heart, where the oesophagus met the stomach right at the curve of his sternum. There was an extra twisty bulge that flashed ‘Unknown’ on the readouts.

Dib stared at it, lifting up his shirt and poking his ribs as if to verify it was there. Squeedly-spooch, he thought stupidly. It looked sort of like Zim’s strangely shaped internal organs. “Computer?”

”Hmm?”

”What’s a ‘Squeedly-spooch’?”

The Computer thought it over for a moment. “….Why?”

Dib poked his chest again. “I think I might have one.” A small, possibly vestigial squeedly-spooch, but a squeedly-spooch none the less.

”… Huh.” The Computer thought about it some more. “You sure it’s not just the pizza?”

He could see the pizza in his stomach slowly being digested. “Pretty sure.” Although it could be cancer. Or a tumor. A tumor that was his deformed twin brother? Weirder things had happened.

The Computer made a disinterested sound. “If you’re sure.” It finally drawled wearily. “Here.” A tray slid open from one of the walls, something that looked like an alien version of a data pad. Dib pushed the X-Scope to the top of his head as he walked over, hesitantly taking the flat device. On the surface was a picture of what probably was supposed to pass for an average Irken.

”Thanks.” He said absentmindedly, walking over to the window overlooking Earth and sat down, pressing a button on the side. The picture changed, to a back view of an Irken, complex Irken symbols on the side that he couldn’t quite decipher. Scientific jargon, most likely.

The images both thrilled and fascinated him, sending shivers down his spine in nerves and excitement. All those years and threats of dissecting Zim to see what made the obnoxious little green alien tick, and here he was with the answers in his hand without ever having to cut Zim open and make him bleed.

The pizza in his stomach made a nasty lurch, threatening to come back up. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing for a moment or two. No. No experiments. Especially not Zim, not now, not anymore. Zim was an alien, Zim was a pain in Dib’s ass but he’d also accepted Dib’s surrender when Dib reacted without thinking and didn’t have anywhere else to turn.

And in the deepest darkest reaches of his mind, where no one could mock him for it, he could admit to himself that Zim was probably the closest thing he had to a friend, a best friend, in the entire Universe.

The thought was both exhilarating and extremely depressing.

No, Zim was not an experiment. Dib brought his legs up to his chest, briefly resting his forehead on his knees. He was the experiment. Him. Dib. The Dib-Thing. And a failed experiment at that.

The worst part was that he knew how his fa… How Professor Membrane worked. Failures were either discarded -- rows and rows of bodies floating in tubes-- or taken apart and salvaged for other experiments. He was a rouge experiment now. One that hadn’t worked to precise specifications. Professor Membrane would want him back, to see where he went wrong, see if he could fix Dib. Make him the perfect clone that he wanted, one focused on ‘Real Science’. For Dib’s own good, of course.

He snorted to himself, lifting his head to look out the window again. Ironically enough, he was probably in the safest place he could be to avoid that fate, high above the Earth in an alien space ship. No one would find him here. After all, ‘aliens didn’t exist’. Hah. Dib wondered if Zim had planned it that way. Probably not, Zim really wasn’t that great of a strategist. Random, in a tricky to predict sort of way, but not great at tactics.

… Funnily enough, Zim was the only person on Earth who agreed with him about the existence of extra-terrestrial life, even as they argued it. A small crooked smile crept to his lips at that. He glanced down at the data pad, his interest on Irken anatomy gone for the moment. He was still curious, just… not right now.

”Computer?” He called, leaning back to look up at the ceiling again. “Do you have anything on Irken history and customs?”

It was hard work, not thinking. Fortunately, there were other distractions at hand.

---

His world consisted of early Irken history, Irken customs, slightly stale strangely topped pizza, various flavours of slushies and the occasional muffin or cupcake, courtesy of the wandering Gir. Gir gleefully made the muffins himself which often had things like chalk or corn in them. The corn wasn’t so bad, but the chalk ground annoyingly in his teeth.

When Gir loudly proclaimed that the ‘Big-Head Boy Stunk like a Stinky Thing’, the Computer directed him to what looked like a closet, but was in fact some sort of sonic cleaner. Which made sense, given that water had an adverse effect on Irken biology. It got rid of the last of the dried purple goop off his clothing too.

After that, he made sure that he ‘showered’ every day, which seemed to make the Computer happier with him, to the extent of giving him an Irken/English dictionary. Dib thought it was the best thing ever. It was much better than struggling through trying to translate everything on his own.

Irken history was fascinating, he hadn’t realized how long-lived of a species they were. True, Zim hadn’t seemed to have aged at all in the time that Dib had known him, but he’d dismissed the thought at the time. But the thought that Zim was 164 Earth years old just blew his mind. If Zim had been on Earth since he was a…. smeet, he would have lived through the American Civil War.

And yet, in Irken, Zim wasn’t even 17 years old yet. One Irken year calculated out to roughly 9 Earth years, which meant that Dib be dust and bones long before Zim even approached middle age.

On the other hand, this meant that at the beginning of their acquaintance, 16-year old Zim had been being defeated by a 10-year old human. Heh.

His reading of the nearly 50,000 year old history of the Irken Empire was interrupted one day the sound of someone ranting. It was startling, to hear another voice other than the Computer.

Zim stormed by, on a tirade about salt or something or another. Dib stared at him in shock, fumbling and almost dropping the data pad he was holding. Zim paused in mid-step, staring at him, one leg still outstretched. “Oh.” Zim put his foot back. “You’re still here.” He waved a hand dismissively. With that he continued on, grabbing something from a nearby table and striding off.

Dib gaped after him for a long moment, uncertain if he’d hallucinated it or not. Then he scrambled to his feet and followed after the grumbling green alien. Zim walked over to a tube in the wall, then disappeared in a flash of light. Transporter tube. Dib clutched the data pad in his hands until his hands ached, then cautiously stepped forward into the tube.

A flash of light and the space station vanished, revealing the semi-familiar surroundings of Zim’s underground base. He followed Zim’s cackling laughter down the labyrinth twists and turns of the alien base, finding Zim assembling something in a cavernous room. Zim muttered to himself as he worked, pausing occasionally for cackling before turning to work.

Dib slunk to a dark corner of the room and curled up with the data pad, going back to his reading. It was slightly jarring to hear another voice again, one from a live creature instead of the Computer.

Zim didn’t seem to notice him and he spent several hours, just listening to Zim rant. It was like a soothing balm and he found himself relaxing, tension he didn’t even know he was carrying fading away. He found himself fading off to a peaceful slumber, lulled by the familiar sound of Zim’s mad cackling.

This created a new pattern. Zim didn’t seem to notice or care that Dib followed him around the base like a lost shadow. As far as Dib could surmise, he was just part of the background, like Gir’s insane babbling or laughter as he ran around the base playing strange little Gir-games. Occasionally, he’d wander up to the house, sitting or sleeping on the sofa with Gir, watching television or eating snacks.

He approached the front door only once, looking out the front window, at the blue sky and the stupid fat people staring at the black van parked half way down the cul-de-sac. He stared at it for a moment and stepped back from the window again. Partly because he wasn’t sure what would happen if he opened the door. He hadn’t been able to use the X-Scope to check out his head and for all he knew Zim had rigged his cranium to explode once he stepped out the door.

And partly because thoughts of his head exploding in a huge gory mess was a better thought than the one that he was afraid to step outside and deal with anybody. He’d always felt like an outsider among his supposed fellow humans, but now he was even more so, an alien among humans.

He watched Zim get ready for skool from the safety of the sofa, Zim wearing his comically bulbous bouffant and obviously annoying contacts. “Why do you go?” He questioned, his curiosity piqued. “To skool?”

From Dib’s reading, the role of an Irken Invader was to blend in with the indigenous life, analyze their weaknesses, and prepare the planet for an incoming Irken invasion. Going to skool, worrying about homework…. Those weren’t completely necessary to Zim’s cover. Zim had lots of disguises, old men, giant women, fat round-headed humans. He didn’t have to go as a human child, with all their trappings of skool life.

If Zim hadn’t gone to skool, he probably would have never met Dib, the only person to recognize what he truly was. And chances were that Dib would have never become a threat to Zim, merrily skipping down the path to insanity without ever finding the proof of the existence of extra-terrestrial life that he craved, and would have eventually been locked away for being crazy.

Meeting Zim had actually made Dib sane.

”Foolish human-filth.” Zim spat. “It is all part of Zim’s ingenious plan to take over the world!” Zim laughed his mad insane cackle as he stepped out the front door, his laughter continuing down the sidewalk.

… Dib had noted on a few previous occasions that Zim occasionally tended to lose himself in the smaller details and miss the larger details completely. He changed that mental note to ‘frequently lost himself in the smaller details’.

Sometimes Dib had tea parties with the little robot and a pig.

He wasn’t sure where the pig came from, but it had some of the best manners Dib had ever seen. It was extremely polite, even when Gir set the table on fire.

The first time he saw the Tallest, he was somewhat surprised. He’d known that the leaders of the Irken Empire were based on height, but he hadn’t gotten to that part in the histories to understand the basis for that. Dib had always assumed after meeting Tak and seeing her ruthlessness that Zim was somewhat abnormal for an Irken and that the rest of the conquering species was intelligent and ruthless.

He was somewhat let down.

The Tallest, if anything, were worse than Zim. They were stupid and belligerent and scornful. And Zim just took it, singing their praises, kissing their scrawny green asses like they were the greatest thing ever. Which they weren’t.

Dib managed to keep his silence until after the main viewscreen was turned off. “They don’t like you!” He burst out, his voice raw from not speaking for a while. “They’re just sitting there, MOCKING you and you take it!”

Zim tilted his head back and laughed. “Oh, stupid stupid human. You understand nothing! NOTHIIIING!!” He screamed, shaking a fist in Dib’s direction.

Dib swallowed, regretting that he’d spoken up, but refusing to back down before Zim’s fury. Zim waved a finger back at the monitor. “The Tallest may not care much for ZIM! but they fail to comprehend one very important thing. The same thing that you, stupid human flesh bag, fails to comprehend, with your whining and your failing and constantly seeking approval from others, trying to get the other foul Earth creatures to listen to you. Zim. Does. Not. CARE.”

”… Huh?” Dib squeaked out.

”Zim does not CARE what anyone thinks of ZIM! Zim is an INVAAADER, not some wormy food service drone and refuses to believe what others may think of him. For he is and shall always be nothing less than Invader ZIM!. CONQUERER OF PLANETS!!! All Hail ZIIIIIIIIMMMM!!!”

… That… Explained a lot, really. ”Oh.”

”Yes, yes, you are impressed by the Might that is Zim.” Zim turned away, shooing him away with a negligent hand. “You may go sulk in sulky silence once more.”

Dib did. Gir dragged him to another tea party with chocolate muffins with apricot sprinkles and he went, trying to settle this information with all that he knew of Zim. He’d always sort of assumed that Zim was too stupid to realize his short comings before.

Then Gir’s head exploded and he was distracted putting Gir back together again. Fortunately Gir had done this enough times he could tell Dib where everything went, even if Gir wanted his legs on his shoulders and his arms on his hips. But it made Gir happy to be able to eat with his lower limbs, so Dib did as he asked.

”Did you know that you’ve got a screw, two pennies, a paper clip, and a rubber ball where your brain should be?” He asked.

Gir just smiled. “Piggies!”

Riiiiiiiiiiiiight.

Since Irken history wasn’t providing him with the answers he really wanted, he decided that perhaps it was time to switch over to Irken customs, to maybe explain why they did what they did. And he discovered one very crucial aspect to Irken society that he’d never considered before.

Snacks.

He never observed Zim eating or drinking much, having long realized that Earth food made Zim horribly ill, even to touch. Yet Snacks were deemed to be even more important to Irken than their form of currency, Monies.

But they could also use Monies to buy Snacks. One earned Monies by succeeding at their jobs and advancing through the ranks. And Snacks were Food, so the more competent the Irken, the more Monies they made, so the more Snacks they could buy and the taller they would grow. So therefore, having the Tallest, and theoretically the most competent Irken as the leaders made sense.

”Have you seeeeeeen the Tallest?!” Gir asked, his head titled to the side as he giggled.

”Yeah-?” Dib tilted his head to the side. Oh. Yeah. That kind of blew that theory out of the water, didn’t it? “Wait. Did I say all that outloud?”

”Hee hee hee hee!” Gir kicked his little legs as he rolled. “Big-head boy hasn’t done that in a while!”

”I haven’t, have I?” Dib grinned to himself. That was on his checklist of things to stop doing! “I-“

Gir put a tiny hand on Dib’s mouth, effectively silencing him. “Shhhhhh.” Gir crooned. Right. No ranting out loud. Gir affectionately plastering himself against Dib’s face, happily cooing a love tune that Dib was pretty sure they’d heard on a romantic comedy they’d watched earlier that day, effectively ending that conversation.

That didn’t stop the inquiry into Snacks and their role in Irken society. Everything that he had observed Zim eating, which thus far consisted of Irken Soda and Waffles, were all non-meat products, as meat reacted poorly to Zim’s alien biology. Upon further investigation, he discovered that all of the snacks that the Irken ate were plant based, vegetarian.

This caused a question that he could not find an answer for in Irken customs. So he wandered down to Zim’s lab. “If your species is vegetarian, how come you have sharp pointy teeth?” He asked.

”Irken females used to eat their mates.” Zib responded absentmindedly as he welded parts of an alien circuit board together.

”Oh. That explains the whole ‘Birthing Tubes’ thing, doesn’t it?” If they didn’t reproduce sexually, the males didn’t get eaten.

”Yup.” Zim turned off the torch and examined his weld.

Dib looked at it too. ”What are you doing?”

”Your feeble human mind couldn’t dare comprehend the complex complexities of-“

”-Your connection ports are on backwards.”

”-Irken… Technology….” Zim’s rant trailed off and stopped as his gaze quickly flicker back and forth between Dib and the circuit board. Dib smirked and made a quick exit via a side tube before the ranting could start up again. He’d made the same mistake when he’d been working on Tak’s ship.

He grinned to himself as he wooshed through the spiraling tubes. It was kind of amazing how comfortable he’d become at navigating the illogical base, once he’d gotten free access to it. He really was too tall for it, the base meant for someone of Zim’s size and sometimes it made him twist and contort to get through, but it was worth it.

He read about Irken strategy, how they sent Invaders out to conquer planets that they then converted to their use. This triggered a few memories and he spent a day with the Computer and the Internet, looking up various Earth Conquerors. Alexander the Great, Genghis Khan, the British Empire, comparing what happened to the conquered territory after it had been taken over, because the Irken tradition of doing something at the spur of the moment with the planet confused him.

A ‘Parking Lot’ planet? Seriously?

He tracked Zim down as the Irken fiddled with the controls for something in a tank that looked like a purple and orange cybernetic frog-duck-squid thing cross. “Okay, so say you do conquer Earth and the Armada shows up. What then?”

”We wipe out all puny existence of life forms on this planet!” Zim struck a dramatic pose, a dramatic fist thrust up into the heavens.

”And then?”

”And then the Tallest turn it into what ever the Empire needs.”

”And then?”

”What do you mean ‘and then’?” Zim scoffed.

Dib crossed his arms. “I mean, and then what do you get? The Planet?” He thought he heard that before, that Zim got the Earth after he conquered it. “How do you get the planet if someone else is turning it into what ever they want?”

”Foolish human flesh-meat!” Zim ranted, the fist now aimed up at Dib’s head. It missed by quite a lot. “You know nothing! NOTHING!”

Which was Zim-speak for ‘Zim didn’t know’. Dib had gotten fairly good at reading him over the years. “Right.” He nodded, wandering off. “I’m not sure this plan was thought through….”

”What do you mean ‘not thought through’?! Thought through?! Come back here fight me, you coward!” Zim shouted at him. “You understand nooooothing!!! AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!”

-They all ended up having to wrestle the alien frog-duck-squid thing back into the tank before it escaped the lab and took over the world. Which was still technically Zim’s job, even if he was doing an especially bad job of it without Dib there to inadvertently push him along.

The question of diet bothered him and he finally pulled out the data pad on Irken anatomy and biology. Time had given him some distance and he could look at the images without feeling queasy or seeing himself or Zim overlaid on them. Even with the Irken/English dictionary at his disposal, it was tough reading, not everything translated easily or correctly.

He knew from personal experience that the most important part of an Irken’s body was their Pak. Everything that made that Irken them was in the Pak. It was their brain, their memories, their life support. The body was just a vehicle to move the Pak around, and would die without the Pak.

Which was an over simplification, but Dib had had nightmares for weeks after he’d stolen Zim’s Pak and it had started to merge with him, downloading Zim’s personality, his very ‘Zimness’, into Dib. He still had detailed plans drawn up and computer-tested for conquering the world.

But in addition to the Memory Drive that stored all of the Irken’s programming and knowledge, the Charging Cell that supplied energy to the Irken’s organs to substain life without the need for food and the Atmospheric Processor that enabled them to live in any environment, there was also a wide variety of weaponry. The Mechanical spider legs alone were amazing, turning into, laser cutters, saw blades, extra claw-tipped limbs and shield generators.

Then there was the communicator, the identification plug, jets, binocular helmet, and it was a handy dandy convenient location to store stuff. The Pak was an amazing piece of technology.

And necessary for the Irken’s as a space-faring race, because their bodies couldn’t handle being away from their planet otherwise. Just like humans needed help to explore under water, the frozen artic poles or outer space, the Irken had just raised it to a level humans hadn’t reached yet.

Dib had paused in his reading there, calculations and equations floating through his brain. He had tried Real Science once, giving up Para-normal Studies. The mathematics and engineering had been simple, too simple to really be a challenge to him, leaving him with a cold empty feeling inside. But had he perused it, seriously focused on it, he probably could have pushed human technology to the stars and beyond, instead of figuring out how to replace human blood with coffee beans. Proven the existence of alien life that way.

He spent the rest of that day up in the space station, not looking at the Earth for a change, but the stars that were bright and visible from space. He talked to the Computer, learning about the various planets and species that lived out in space.

One of the things about Irkens was that they weren’t carbon based, like most Earth-based lifeforms. Irken were nitrogen-phosphorus based, which explained Zim’s reaction to water, as phosphorus had an explosive chemical reaction to water. The Earth’s atmosphere was 78% nitrogen, which gave Zim’s alien metabolism enough to work with, even without the Pak.

But the phosphorus also explained Zim’s glowing eyes. Dib had to wrestle with the temptation of asking Zim if his poo glowed in the dark.

But the primary ingredient in the Irken diet was a simple one. Sugar. Irken plans absorbed the nitrogen from the air and phosphorus from the ground, creating sugar and releasing oxygen into the air. Which meant that Irkens weren’t just vegetarians they were sugar fiends, like an entire race of world conquering hyper hummingbirds.

Which meant that he had figured out the one food on Earth that Zim wasn’t probably allergic to. It also explain why he had been able to eat the waffles, even if they’d come back up. It hadn’t been the waffles as much as it had been the syrup.

Dib tore through the kitchen in a gleeful sort of frenzy, eager to test out this theory. If Zim could find a broad enough food substance here on Earth, he could grow taller. Taller meant a higher rank in Irken society, which was a good thing.

Taller also meant thumbing their nose at the Irken Tallest, who had sent Zim to exile on Earth in the first place. Hah!

There was no sugar to be found in the cupboards. No sugar anywhere. “Gir?!” He shouted, dashing into the front room. “Gir?” No sign of the little robot. The green puppy suit wasn’t anywhere around either, which meant that Gir was probably out on one of his many exploration trips. Dammit.

There was a grocery store on the corner, one block up. They’d have sugar. He checked his trenchcoat pockets. He still had his wallet, with some cash. Perfect. He was out the door and running down the street without a further thought.

Sugar in the raw was the least processed sugar, that would probably work best. White sugar if not. Or plain rock sugar candy if he could find it, he wasn’t so sure how much the flavors would interact with Zim’s alien metabolism, it was better to stick with as chemically basic as he could get.

The grocery store’s doors opened for him as he ran up to them, and he faltered as he stepped inside. It was so… grey. Had it always been this boring and blah looking? He shrugged to himself, scanning the aisles until he found the aisle with the sugar in it, darting around the large slow moving shoppers. He found the sugar in the raw and grabbed a box, ducking out of the way as a shopping cart nearly ran him over.

His goal in his grasp, he scurried to the registers in the front, finding a display of rock candy on an end cap, right above the chocolate bars. He glanced at the chocolate, debating getting Gir something, then decided against it. Gir got enough chocolate as it was.

Which brought up the question, how did a robot eat anyway? Where did it all go?

One of those weird things that made Gir, Gir, he supposed. He glanced around at the hordes of people, noticing their bland almost zombie like expressions. They could almost be zombies for all he knew, it’d be hard to tell the difference.

Dib paid for the box of sugar and the few sticks of rock candy, shoved them into a plastic bag before he stepped out of the building and started running again, eager to get back home, back to Zim’s base with its comfortable clashing cheerful colours and twisted tubes. He couldn’t wait to see Zim’s expression when he showed him this, to see if Zim could eat it like he hoped he could. He rounded the corner, the bright green house in sight, shining like a beacon in an otherwise grey world.

He had his hand on the garish red gate when something grabbed the spike of hair on the top of his head and pulled, nearly sending him backwards on the ground. “Hey!” He protested as more hands grabbed him, hauling him backwards from the house.

”Subdue the experiment!” Someone shouted as a metal cuff was slapped onto one wrist as Dib flailed against the horde of black clothed people. He caught a glimpse of someone dressed in a white lab coat, a clipboard in hand. “Get it back to the labs!”

”NO!” Dib ripped his arm free, reaching for the house and grabbing a hold of the fence. His flapping coat was grabbed, nearly hauling him backwards into the van. He’d been stupid. He’d known better. Professor Membrane never let an experiment go unless he was ready to let it go. And he was an experiment. He saw a flash of movement in the windows, a green silhouette, and panic stabbed through him, everything narrowing down to one goal.

He couldn’t let them get Zim.

Therefore Dib had to get away.

”GIR!” He bellowed, lashing out with his feet and free hand as they tried to pry him away from the house. He got a few good hits in before they grabbed his ankles. He gritted his teeth and tightened his grip on the fence, the sharp rough points of the wood biting into his hand. “GIIIIR!!!”

The green doggy head poked through the door, looking at him quixotically. “GIR!” He shouted again, frantically flailing towards his captors as his fingers began to slip. “BITEY!”

Gir’s eyes flashed red as he saluted. “Yes sir!” He growled. The red flashed back to the familiar turquoise as Gir let loose a high pitched squeal and launched himself at the crowd of people with a noise not unlike a chainsaw. Chomping and screaming followed as some of the hands suddenly released him. He kicked himself free, wiggling out of his trenchcoat and diving over the fence. He scrambled past the lawn gnomes, practically falling past the purple door into the haven of the house.

He kept going, scrambling into the kitchen, sliding partway across the linoleum on his knees. Strong hands grabbed his shoulders, claws pricking his skin through the material of his shirt. He was picked up, lifted up and slammed against a wall, feet dangling uselessly as Zim’s unholy crimson eyes glaring at him from such a close distance that all Dib could see was angry glowing red.

”Did you think you could run away from me>?!” Zim snarled, as angry as Dib had ever seen him. “From ZIM?! You cannot escape, you stinky human filth!!! You surrendered to ZIMThe Dib belongs to ZIM!!!!”

”AND YOU BELONG TO ME!” Dib shouted back, grabbing Zim by the shoulders, pulling Zim closer, even as the alien jerked in surprise. “You’re mine!”

”Foolish worm-meat!” Zim shoved at Dib’s shoulders, his zipper-like teeth bared uncomfortably close to Dib’s neck. “Zim bows to no one! NO ONE!” He tilted his head aback, laughing his irritating mocking cackle.

”I didn’t say bow, you idiot!” Dib tighten his grasp and gave Zim a little shake. “I said you belong, jackass!”

Zim’s laughter stopped abruptly, trailing off in a confused whine.

”You’re MY alien!” Dib continued, the words coming hot and harsh on his tongue. “I don’t care if you bow or grovel before the Tallest or however many aliens we meet! You’re still always going to belong to me first! And I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE.” The first alien he’d ever met, the one prove everything, to drive him to the depths of insanity and back. He could meet a hundred thousand aliens, a hundred thousand Irkens, and there would only ever be one Zim.

And Dib wasn’t Dib without Zim. Just as Zim wasn’t himself without Dib there either.

”But… you left.” Zim was obviously still furious, but his voice sounded more like a broken whine than anything else.

”For a quick errand! And I came back.” Actually, in retrospect, he was somewhat surprised that his head didn’t explode the second he stepped out the door. Or that the door opened for him at all. He pushed Zim back, sliding off of the mechanical spider legs that held him up under his armpits and landed on the ground with a soft thump. Zim stared at him, spider legs shuffling to keep Dib in sight as Dib marched over to the kitchen drawers, rifling through one of them before pulling out a large carving knife.

He was aware of Zim making a hissing sound as he brought the knife up to his head, grabbing the scythe shaped lock of hair that always stuck out. With a savage motion, he cut it off, holding the long black strands in his hand. “I’m not a Membrane.” He spat. “I don’t belong to them. To the humans.”

”The Dib belongs to Zim.” Zim repeated firmly, child-like simplistic in his logic.

“Yes.” Dib opened his hand, the hair drifting to the floor. “Just as the Zim belongs to Dib.”

They both stared at the severed strands of hair, silently acknowledging the truth of their statements. They were who they had made each other.

The sombre moment was broken by a soft croon. “…. I love this show.”

”Gir!” Zim snapped, turning to stare at the robot, who was sitting on the floor, watching them with the all rapturous concentration that was usually reserved for the television. “Are the blasted humans gone?”

Gir pulled his mouth away from the cherry cola slushie he was drinking and gave them a wide tooth-filled grin. “I ate them allllllll up!” He cheered proudly.

Dib hesitated for a second, staring at Gir’s crimson stained face. “Ew.”

”Big-head boy dropped his bag!” Gir continued cheerfully. He opened up his head and pulled out the plastic grocery bag. He held it out, little stub tail wagging happily. “Can I keep it?” He inquired hopefully.

”No.” Dib leaned down and grabbed the bag. “Thank you for retrieving it for me.”

”Eeeeee!” Gir squealed in response, then started shovelling the long strands of Dib’s hair into his mouth like he was eating spaghetti.

”I’ve been studying Irken biology.” Dib said, reaching into the bag and pulled out the box of sugar in the raw. He opened it up and poured a small handful into his hand and held it out. “And I think I found something you can safely eat.”

”What is it?” Zim stepped forward, metal spider legs clacking on the floor. He looked at the light brown crystals suspiciously.

”Sugar.” Dib smiled, giddy as some of his early euphoria returned. “Just plain, simple sugar.”

Zim frowned, picking up a pinch in his fingers. He peered at it, then opened his mouth and then, scrunching his eyes shut, deposited the small amount of sugar on his tongue, obviously expecting an adverse reaction.

His mouth shut. Zim swallowed. They waited.

”It’s… not bad.” Zim admitted, looking surprised. He grabbed another pinch and tried it again, this time swallowing if with not quite pleasure, than at least some curious satisfaction.

”Can I have some?” Gir chirped.

”No.”

”Awwww….”

---

It wasn’t until Dib made it back to the underground sections of the base that he began to panic again. If Membrane’s people had tried to grab him from outside Zim’s house, then they knew for certain that he was here, which meant the next step was to break into the base to get Dib. And probably Zim and Gir as well.

And worse yet, he’d kept detailed plans of Zim’s base on his computer at home, along with all the weaknesses he’d found.

Zim laughed at him when he was finally able to explain his panic. One of the first things Zim had done when Dib had surrendered was download Dib’s laptop, which had those same plans, into the Computer and fix all the potential security weaknesses. Just in case it was a trap.

The Computer had also hacked into Dib’s home computer and wiped it, making it look like Dib had picked up a virus from all those paranormal sites. They were safe as they could be. Safe as alien houses.

Zim had also stopped with his outside excursions, finding them fruitless and annoying, dealing with the filthy worm humans. Dib was shocked to realise that Zim had stopped going to skool ages ago and he’d never realised it. Some observer he was.

Gir, of course, went where he wanted when he wanted and got away with it unharmed. Once, he returned with a stack of developed photos of the inside of Dib’s house and a few of the Membrane Laboratories. The photos were all crooked, off centre and had the occasional paw blocking the way. Apparently Gir had decided to go on a tour and these were his souvenirs of what he considered a lovely holiday. From the upset looks on the white lab coated people and security guards, he was the only one to have a good time.

Still, Dib spent most of the next few weeks up in the space station, sleeping in Zim’s pilot chair up there. It wasn’t as comfortable as the couch in the house, but it made Zim less jumpy and paranoid and it kept the vivisection dreams away.

Dissection dreams were for the weak. You were dead then and couldn’t feel it when they sliced you open and started ripping out your organs.

Sugar agreed with Zim, or Zim agreed with sugar. Zim took to eating large sugar rock crystals like they were popcorn. Sugar cubes, Zim explained absentmindedly as he licked on a rock sugar lollipop, were okay but had a strange chemical aftertaste he didn’t like very much. Dib nodded and didn’t say anything, just watching Zim wrap his tongue around the sugar on a stick. Literally. Irkens had very long thin flexible tongues, almost like a hummingbird’s. Only really really sharp.

Gir was banned from eating Zim’s sugar. It made him explode. Which, considering the amount of sugar Gir digested on a daily basis with all the slushies he drank, wasn’t something Dib really wanted to think about much.

But then Dib still wasn’t sure how Gir digested anything. Hair at least seemed to be something that he couldn’t digest, as he had harked up the hair Dib had cut off, much like a cat coughing up a hairball. It had been disgusting and gross and Zim had patted Gir on the head with some words of praise and walked off with the hairball without another word about it.

Zim was a little happier and calmer after their little fight. He still ignored Dib as part of the background most of the time, but sometimes Zim would stop and stare at Dib as Dib continued his readings, an odd look on the alien’s face, like he couldn’t quite figure out how things had turned out this way. Once, instead of turning away and resuming work, he’d summoned Dib and they’d gone into an obviously ill-used portion of the base.

Zim showed him how to shoot. It was something Dib already knew how to do, but he was unfamiliar with the alien weaponry and there was a massive difference between picking up an alien weapon and firing wildly with it, and actually knowing how to use it. Zim wasn’t a patient teacher, but he was a thorough one. By the end of their session Dib knew how to dismantle and reassemble two of the most common space-faring guns and shoot five more. Zim never brought it up again, but Dib made a point to go down to the range and practise with the weapons there whenever he got bored with reading.

After all, Zim was an Invader. And while Zim wasn’t doing such a good job of it here on Earth, it was something Dib was probably going to need to know if he was going to continue to stay with Zim and not get killed in some spectacularly gory fashion. Or to prevent Zim from getting killed in some spectacularly gory fashion.

Aliens. Aliens had always been a large part of his life in a theoretical way, trying to prove their existence. But now they were more than just the occasionally frustrating glance or confrontation before they disappeared again, leaving him alone, frustrated and crazy. Now he was looking not just at his world, with his familiar Zim and Gir, but past that. Past theoretical and abstract Irkens and touching on a smattering of other species and races and cultures he’d read about or glimpsed, but the possibility of flying out there, dealing with strange and foreign aliens.

Dib settled down to sleep in the station’s command chair, laughing to himself as he glanced out into space, mentally plotting out the locations of planets that he knew held alien life. Out here, in space, he was the alien.

The planetary view suddenly flickered and changed, startling Dib and he slid out of the chair, landing on the ground with a thump. “Happy Pummelling Day Zim!” A loud obnoxious voices cheered.

”But…” He lifted up his head, peering over the keyboard at the two tall Irkens on the screen. “It’s not Pummelling Day.” He protested. The Tallest were still working by Irken time, and Pummelling Day was a yearly event. Pummelling Day wasn’t due on Earth for another three years.

”Oh.” The Tallest leaned forward, peering at him like he was a new and fascinating species of insect. “Heyyy…” The one on Red drawled. “You’re that human thing Zim is always talking about, aren’t you?”

”Yeah!” The Purple one nodded, shovelling food into his mouth. ”Dim or something.”

”Dib.” He corrected.

”Ugly little thing, aren’t you?” The Purple one continued on without listening. “What’s with that spiky stuff on the top? Some sort of growth?”

”I think that’s his head.” The Red one said seriously.

Dib felt his temper snap. “Did you have some reason for calling?” He asked as politely as he could manage.

”Nah.” The Purple one waved it off. “We were bored and Zim’s always good for a laugh.”

”Where is he anyway?” The Red one glanced around. “Didja kill him?”

”Oh, please say you did!” The Purple one tittered.

Dib stared. And these were Zim’s leaders?! “No I didn’t. He’s… I don’t know where he is. Not here.” Somewhere in the underground base. Away from these jackasses.

”You snuck into the base, huh?” The Red one nodded, looking wise. “Impressive, isn’t it?”

”Awww.” The Purple one sulked. “He hasn’t been calling as much lately. Was hoping he’d died.”

… Zim hadn’t called the Tallest lately? Dib jaw dropped in shock. That was a surprise. Zim adored the Tallest!

He caught himself and shook his head. “Sorry I can’t help you.” He apologised as sincerely as he could. “Would you like to leave a message?”

The two Tallest looked at him for a moment, then they both started hooting with laughter. “Leave a… Leave a message?!” They wrapped their arms around each other, laughing hysterically. “For… for ZIM?! AHAhahahahahhaaa!!!”

Dib gritted his teeth. “Computer.” He requested with a soft growl. “Cut visual feed.”

The screen went blank, but their laughter continued on as the Leaders of the Irken Empire snickered and simpered like a pair of pre-teenage skool girls. Dib realised he was shaking and glanced down at his hands, realising that he had clenched them into fists. They had no right. They had no right at all, to treat Zim that way. To talk about Zim like that.

He was furious. And for once, he had an outlet for it.

So he sat there and listened as the Tallest hooted back and forth, talking about the times Zim had called them. The time Zim had been turning into meat and had called them for help. The stories about Earth and how could anything tall be stupid? Zim’s requests for supplies to take over the pitiful little dirtball, like he was a real Invader or instead of some malfunctioning Food Service Drone who couldn’t understand that he was exiled. .

He let the noise wash over him as he made plans. The Irken Empire was good at short term plans, but stunk for anything resembling long term, believing their might would carry them through. An Empire usually only lasted three generations, four if they were lucky, because after that, the descendants had no actual memories of the original conqueror. But Irkens didn’t reproduce sexually, which meant there were no straight lines of genealogy.

Therefore, his plans had to be based around his life time, not an Irken time scale. Long term for a human, but short for an Irken. Six Irken years, if he was lucky. Five or less was more likely.

He could pull it off. They could pull it off.

Zim found him not long after, having pulled himself back into the chair, staring at a black screen. “Dib-thing?” Zim frowned at him, but there was bit of concern in his glowing eyes, as if he wasn’t certain if there was something wrong with Dib or not.

Dib reached forward and severed the communication. Zim didn’t need to hear it and the Tallest hadn’t even noticed that they were still broadcasting. Which was probably what brought Zim up in the first place, the Tallest’s communications blocking out all the other communicators on the base. “Sorry.” He apologised, giving Zim a wan smile. “Just thinking.”

Zim snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, like the idea of Dib thinking was a foreign one.

Dib sat up straighter in the chair. ”Hey Zim?” He asked, feeling strangely calm and thankful to Zim for that bit of normalcy. They could do this. They could totally do this. Because Zim would always be Zim.

”What?”

Dib grinned, showing off his flat, square teeth. “Wanna invade Irk?”

-To Be Continued-