So, all the aliens and mob bosses and things are gonna come from other works. I can say in advance that a lot of them'll be nabbed from Doctor Who, or MS paint adventures. Maybe star trek, but i dont know enough about star trek to feel comfortable doing that. basically, if it's an alien race that's not from invader zim, it's probably from some other space opera, or cartoon. think of it as a little bonus if you're a fan of the referenced work. it'd be a bit too tedius to cite which individual alien came from where and which are background oc's and etc etc so i won't do that in the work itself.
there's no planned over arching plot, so each case should be self-contained.
The Missing Plookesians: Part 1
The next day, Dib found himself standing eagerly on Zim's doorstep. Wow, he mused, never thought I'd be happy to be here. He clutched his small suitcase in his right hand, and knocked on the door with his left. He only had the essentials. His custom built laptop, a few extra clothes, and a bottle of hair gel. The important things.
Zim opened the door, and quickly pulled Dib inside. "Come, come, we have preparations to make."
They both went down to the base's labs, and Zim sat Dib down on a short stool in front of a work bench. Zim grabbed a microchip with a pair of tongs. "Lift up your hair, Dib," he ordered from behind the boy.
Dib turned to look up at Zim (one of the few times he's had to do so). "What?" he asked, his eyes displaying a mix of fear and concern.
"Oh, relax," said Zim. "It's just a universal translation chip. Not everyone speaks English, numbnuts." Dib could hear the condescension dripping from Zim's voice.
"All right…" replied Dib hesitantly, as he carefully lifted the hair from the back of his neck. "Ow!" he exclaimed as he felt a sharp stab at the base of his skull.
"There," said Zim. "Was that so hard?"
It wasn't so bad, but Dib still glared at Zim. It was the principle of the thing.
Zim rolled his eyes. "Now we can go."
And go they did.
Two Months Later
"Zim!" Dib shouted, running into the Kitchen of their tiny rented apartment. Their apartment in SPACE.
Zim was busy making waffles. If there was one thing he missed about Earth, it was the waffles. And nothing else. He raised an antenna at the human who was grinning stupidly in the threshold. "What?" he asked sharply as he removed another waffle from the iron and set it on the plate.
"I passed!" Dib exclaimed, looking ready to burst from excitement.
"You passed!?" Zim set down his plate of waffles. "That's great news!" Dib's enthusiasm was infectious.
Dib had just got back from the testing facility at the UA Department of Licensing, and after five weeks of hard studying he was now the proud owner of an official Private Investigation license. It was very exciting, because it meant that they could both quit their jobs at the Shooting Star Milk Shake Bar and officially open their own agency.
"I already called management at the bar," Dib said as he took a seat at their kitchen table. His chair was slightly shorter than Zim's, making them the same height when they were both seated at the table. Zim set down a plate of waffles in front of him, and sat down across from Dib with his own. "They said we just gotta show up for our last shift," Dib finished, after shoving a few bites of the breakfast pastry into his mouth.
"Excellent," said Zim. "Finally we will be able to get a respectable job. It took you long enough, Dib-worm." Zim playfully jibed. Zim had passed his licensing exam within their first week of arrival, but UA law stated that solo Irkens weren't allowed to have a job that their partner wasn't at for the first Galactic Standard Year, about 15 earth months.
"Well excuse me for not having a computer for a brain," Dib replied, jabbing his spork in Zim's direction.
"Yes, yes, we can't all be as great as Zim," the Irken lazily replied.
Dib just rolled his eyes and tried to keep from grinning. Coming into space, living among the stars, it was his dream. So was Private Investigation (paranormal or otherwise- Dib just liked uncovering truths). So to be a Private Investigator in space? That was like winning the lottery. Twice.
"We'll have to talk with the landlady about renting the office space downstairs," Dib said. "Do you think we have enough for the deposit?"
Zim did some mental calculations. "Probably," he replied. "Unless she's changed her rates in the last two weeks."
The apartment Zim and Dib rented wasn't really an apartment so much as a loft above a ground floor office suite. When they first moved in, the landlady, Golix, said that she'd offer a discount if they rented both spaces at once, but they couldn't exactly afford that at the time. They had been renting a motel using money made by selling "rare earth artifacts" (which were actually nothing more than a few discarded cans of poop cola) until they found employment at the Shooting Star Milkshake Bar.
When she heard that Dib was planning on taking his PI licensing exam in a few weeks, she told them that the offer was still on the table. Golix was a kind old Argolin, who's green and blond hair had faded with age. Dib doubted that she had raised her prices since they last spoke, after all she had been trying to rent out this space for a while. Lofts with attached business spaces weren't as popular in this part of town.
Dib let out a yawn. The exam hadn't been hard, but it had been tedious. "Why don't you go off to bed," Zim suggested. "Zim will discuss renting the office space with Golix tonight."
Dib stood up and stretched, his back cracking in a satisfactory manner. "Alright," he said, as he trudged off to the bedroom. "You're the best, Zim."
"Yes, yes, Zim is amazing," Zim said dismissively. "Off to sleep with you."
Their little loft only had one bedroom (and therefore one bed) but it wasn't a problem. As an Irken, Zim rarely needed sleep, and when he did, Dib was usually awake so it wasn't a problem. If one of them wanted to sleep at the same time as the other, then they would crash on the futon in the living area rather than intrude on the private space.
It took another two weeks to get their business up and running. Golix was more than happy to rent them the office at the previously discussed discounted rate, and Zim took care of the permits they'd need to keep everything legal. All that was left to do now was wait for a case.
"I can't believe it, Zim," Dib said from behind the desk of their little office. Zim leaned against a wall in the corner, polishing a laser pistol. "This is really happening."
Zim cocked an antenna. "Was there ever any doubt, Dib-creature?"
Dib laughed. "No, I suppose not."
Zim pushed himself away from the wall, and holstered his laser pistol on his hip. "Zim is going to open up the front," he said, before exiting the office.
"Alright," Dib called after him.
The front room served as a little waiting room. The front door was a standard automatic door that required a retinal and DNA scan to lock and unlock. Though it didn't look like much, it could withstand an atomic blast when sealed. A similar door was on the left after entering, which lead to the stairs to Zim and Dib's apartment, and opened with a handprint scanner. It wasn't as obvious as the front door was, as Dib insisted on installing synthetic wood paneling to "give it that film noir look." Over the door itself they just used wall paper that blended in with the rest of the wall, so the door could still easily slide out of place.
The door to the office was vintage, but sturdy, at Dib's insistence. "If we're doing this, we're doing this right,"Dib had said. Zim wasn't really sure what Dib meant, but he didn't actually care what the office space looked like.
It was what appeared to be solid wood, and opened on a hinge like most Earth doors. There was a glass window, with the words "Zim and Dib: Private Detectives" printed on it in bold font. At Zim's insistence the door was also blast proof, and still required a retinal scan for locking and unlocking.
The waiting room itself was sparsely furnished, and the lighting circuits were set to a dim yellow-orange. Two synth-wood chairs sat against the wall opposite the door to the boys' apartment, and a desk was to the left of the office door. On it sat Zim's tablet, a business phone which also controlled the security system, a name plaque which housed business cards, and a stack of papers whose only apparent purpose was to sit there and look pretty. "It adds atmosphere!" Dib had said. Zim just thought it was stupid.
After unlocking the front door and changing the digital display outside to "Open," Zim plopped down at his desk. The chair was comfortable enough, high back and raised to make him feel taller. Dib always made sure to get Zim chairs that sat higher off the ground, without even asking for Zim's input on the matter. In a way, Zim was grateful. It meant the human always saw him as an equal.
Zim hadn't been at his desk for more than two minutes when there was a hesitant knock at the door. He rolled his eyes, and pressed a button on the phone's cradle to activate the loud speaker outside. "Come in," he barked.
The door slid open with a soft whoosh before closing just as quietly. A willowy dark haired man entered the office. He was human in appearance, which wasn't that surprising in this part of the galaxy- convergent evolution wasn't exactly an uncommon phenomenon.
He appeared slightly unnerved by the atmosphere of the place, but Zim didn't really care. If Dib scared off customers with his weird decorating tastes then so be it. "Can I help you?" he asked, one antenna skeptically raised.
"Uhh, yes, actually," the man stammered. He had a mop of messy black hair and wore a rumbled button down shirt and black tie. His sleeves were rolled up. "Is this a private investigation company?"
Zim rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair, propping his boots up on the desk with a heavy clunk. "You can read, can't you?" It was displayed on the door in bright neon lights, after all. Zim was given free rein to design the front door's digital display, so he made it as garish as possible, perfectly emulating the Irken aesthetic.
"Well, yes," the man said nervously. "I just wanted to make sure…" he seemed to trail off, looking around the office. "I take it you're Zim?"
Zim sighed in exasperation, and removed his feet from the desk to lean forward, resting his elbows on the shiny synth-wood surface. "How very observant, would you like a prize?"
The man opened his mouth to respond, but Zim cut him off. "Look, just sit down," he gestured to the chairs against the wall. "Dib'll be right with you." They agreed when they decided to start the agency that Dib would handle talking to clients, while Zim would act as security during their investigations.
He pressed another button on the phone and shouted, "Dib!" Zim heard Dib's chair fall over in the other room and snickered to himself, meanwhile the man in the waiting room nervously fidgeted with his hands. "He's ready for you," Zim said without waiting for a response from Dib.
The man stood up and gingerly opened the door. He was greeted by the sight of a young boy, no older than 19, scrambling back into the chair behind his desk.
"Zim, what have I told you about…" he trailed off after noticing that the person entering his office was not Zim. "Oh," he said, setting himself in his chair. "A client?"
The dark haired man nodded. "Take a seat," Dib said, gesturing to the chairs in front of the desk. He pulled out a tablet and pen, preparing to take notes. "So, what's the problem?"
The man gaped for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. After what seemed like an eternity, he found his words. "Membrane?" he muttered.
"I'm sorry?" Dib raised an eyebrow behind his glasses. "I didn't quite catch that."
"Dib Membrane," repeated the man.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?" he asked. What were the odds that someone from his home on earth had made it all the way out here? About .0001%. Earth wasn't anywhere near technologically advanced enough for space travel, and the only person Dib would expect to achieve it would be his sister. But this man definitely was not Gaz, as far as he could tell.
The man laughed quietly. "I don't expect you would. You were only eleven," he said.
Wait… "Mr. Dwicky?" Dib barely remembered the councilor from all those years ago. "You stole my camera," he said, only slightly teasing.
Mr. Dwicky rubbed his arm. "Sorry about that," he said.
Dib waved him off, "Forget it, I'm over it." He leaned back in his chair, relaxing slightly. Of all the people, and all the places, their first client was from earth. There was probably some irony to be found there. "Anyway, what can we do for you?"
Dwicky took a deep breath. "It's… The plookesians…" he began. Dib listened intently as he relayed his story.
"I… I haven't seen them in a while, you know? I'd go to the cops, but we're kind of involved in a…" He rubbed the back of his neck nervously, "dubiously legal weapons trade. We've been living out of our ship; it's parked on a small asteroid not far from here.
"Mooshy and Spoopty, they… They were gonna go out to do a trade, with some big wig mobster. MK, I think it was. I didn't really get involved in it, I was mostly just along for the ride, and… other… things."
Dwicky sighed. "Dib, how much do you know about plookesian romance?" he asked.
Dib paused in his note taking. "How is that relevant?"
"So… nothing," Dwicky surmised. "Alright, moving on…
"Plookesians… They don't form couples like humans do. They form…" he waved a hand in the air, trying to find the right word. "Triples. They're polyamorous, as a rule. And Mooshy and Spoopty, there was just something… special about them. It's no surprise we clicked the way we did.
"I just, I never wanted to see them get hurt, you know? We… we had a fight." Dwicky wiped a tear from his eye before it could fall.
"You gotta understand, I've heard this MK guy's bad news, and I don't know what I'd do if I lost them…" he choked back a sob.
"Don't worry, Mr. Dwicky," Dib said. "We'll take your case, and we'll bring back Mooshy and Spoopty safe and sound."
Dwicky did his best to smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks Dib."
"No problem," Dib said. "Now tell me, what kind of budget do you have for this operation?" he asked. "I'm sorry if that seems too forward, but we should talk prices before I have Zim draw up a contract."
Dwicky took a deep breath to calm himself down. "No problem, Dib, I understand," he replied. "I'd like to keep it under 4,000 credits, but I'd do anything to get them home safe…" he trailed off.
Dib nodded. "Ok, well, we require an initial deposit of around 600 credits for missing persons cases," he punched some numbers into a calculator on his tablet, "And we charge about 20 credits per standard hour, so worst case scenario it takes us about seven days, or I guess, 168 hours to find your plookesians, then you should come in just under 4k credits." He looked up from his calculations. "Does that sound fair?" he asked honestly. This was their first case, after all- Dib didn't want to be overcharging, but he and Zim had looked up the standard rates for these kinds of things before they officially opened.
Dwicky nodded. "Sounds like a deal," he said.
"Great, I'll have Zim draw up the papers," Dib replied. He punched in a few bits of data on his tablet before electronically forwarding the case file and agreed payment options over to Zim. He snickered when he heard angry Irken cursing from the other room, a good indication that Zim had received the files- Dib learned early on that Zim hated data entry, but Zim hated dealing with people more so he simply chose the lesser of two evils.
"Sooo," Dwicky said awkwardly, resting his hands on his knees. "How're you liking the UA?" He figured he may as well make small talk, he was going to be here until Zim was done finalizing the contracts.
"It's nice enough," replied Dib. "Certainly beats Earth."
Dwicky grinned. "Nothing quite like it, is there?"
"Nope."
"You know, when I first walked in here, I thought I somehow ended up back there for a moment."
"You like the décor?" Dib asked.
Dwicky hummed. "It's very nostalgic, I suppose."
They fell into a silence after that, and several minutes ticked by before Dwicky spoke up again. "So, are you and Zim…?"
"What?" Dib scrunched up his face in an expression between disgust and confusion. "No, Zim and I are just partners."
Dwicky raised an eyebrow. "Uh-huh."
"Business partners," Dib amended.
"If you say so…" Before Dwicky could go on, the speaker from Dib's desk went off.
"There! The work is done!" said Zim's voice. Dib's tablet pinged to indicate he received the updated file. "Get the earth monkey to sign the contract so Zim can go back to ignoring your worthless existence!"
Dib rolled his eyes and opened the file with a wry smile. "Just business partners, huh?" Dwicky muttered under his breath.
Dib slid the tablet across the desk and Dwicky signed at the bottom of the contract, before pulling out a thin metal rod from his pants pocket and handing it to Dib.
The UA Credit tube worked a lot like a debit card would on earth. Swipe it through a scanner and the funds are transferred. There was no physical currency in the UA, but precious metals were still considered valid tender in flea markets and dubiously legal trades.
Dib stuck the tube in the credit reader on his desk, and waited a moment for the tube to be spat back out before passing it back to Dwicky.
"Alright," said Dib. "Looks like we're all set."
Dwicky looked relieved. "Thanks, Dib. You have no idea how much this means to me."
"You can thank me when we get your plookesians back."
And with that, Dwicky left the office, and Zim and Dib's first real case began.
the UA credit is loosely based on the value of the Euro. The rates Z&D charged are also loosely based on the rates of actual PI's. I say loosely, because, y'know, space economy. Did I mention this fic takes place in space? It is in space.
