Author's note: I don't own Invader Zim or Lilo and Stitch. I'm just writing this story for fun. However, I do own the Centauri,
the alien race that appears in this story. As their name suggests, they resemble Centaurs, but with foxlike heads and faces, and three
fingers on each hand.

Aboard Space Station Ixion, several miles above Planet Vort...

Centauri Commander Achilles leaned over his Vortian comrade's shoulder to check the control panels. Scratching his chin, he studied every screen, knob, button, and lever carefully. After several minutes' worth of inspection, he decided that everything was in good working condition.

"Any sign of them yet, Lieutenant Le-Sha?"

"None so far, sir," the Vortian replied, nervously twiddling her thumbs. "There were a couple of Voot cruisers sighted near Planet Togo about two hours ago, but no one has seen the Irken Armada approaching the border yet."

"Good," said the Clydesdale Centauri. "Keep an eye on those scanners. If anything happens, let me know."

Le-Sha stood up and saluted. "Yes, sir!"

"Irken monsters," Achilles growled as he headed down the corridor leading to the cafeteria. "Destroying everything in their path, leaving a trail of havoc in their wake. Have they no conscience?"

Such were the goings on aboard Space Station Ixion, one of six Galactic Alliance outposts established to protect the Vortian border from Irken attacks. The Centauri had been at war with the Irken Empire for years, and their military strength was fading. They hated to pull the Galactic Alliance into the war as well, but they had no choice. The Irkens were simply too much for the Centauri to handle on their own.

However, despite the extra help given them, the Centauri still continued to suffer massive losses.

When will this madness end? Achilles wondered.

His thoughts were soon interrupted by the noises coming from the station's cafeteria. Officers of various alien species sat at small tables, chatting with each other over their snacks and drinks. Waiters scurried here and there, taking and delivering orders. An occasional cough or sneeze sounded above the din.

Achilles strode into the room and took a seat at an empty table. While he waited for a waiter to come and take his order, his thoughts returned to the ongoing war.

"They will pay," he muttered. "Every last one of them!"

Somewhere in space, aboard the Massive...

"Incoming transmission from Planet Vort, sirs!"

"W-w-what?" Almighty Tallest Purple woke with a start, spilling his soda all over himself and his partner, Almighty Tallest Red.

"Irk's sakes, Purple, watch where you're throwing stuff!" snapped the crimson-eyed Irken leader.

"Sorry, I was taking a nap and I wasn't paying attention," mumbled his lavender-eyed counterpart.

"Sirs, the transmission!" the head communications officer reminded his dim-witted superiors. "It's Invader Larb."

"Oh ,yeah, put him on-screen," replied Red. "And could someone bring me a towel?"

"Greetings, my Tallest," said Invader Larb as he appeared on-screen. "I just wanted to let you know that the planet Vort is almost ready for conquest."

"Wait, what do you mean 'almost ready'"? Purple asked suspiciously.

"Well, it seems that the Galactic Alliance and the Centauri have established an outpost to protect the Vortian border," Larb explained. "They might try to protect the planet as well. The Centauri and the Vortians did form an alliance a while back, you know."

"Don't remind me, those nosy Centauri," growled Red as he dried himself off with his towel.

"However," Larb continued, "I am building a device that will jam the station's sensors. That way, they won't see us coming. We'll be able to take them by surprise."

"Excellent," purred Red. "When will this sensor jammer be ready?"

"It's almost done. I hope to have it ready by tonight," replied the Invader.

"Good work, soldier, make us proud," said Purple.

"Thank you, my Tallest. Invader Larb, signing off."

With that, the communications officers cut the transmission.

"Set coodinates for Planet Vort," Red ordered. "And step on it!"