CHAPTER 7
CHECKMATE
When Zim saw where he'd landed, he roared in anger. "This can't be happening! I travel through time! THIS SHIT NEVER HAPPENED! THIS IS A MOVIE!"
"I, ah, don't get it," Malcolm said.
A man who looked exceptionally like Dr. Malcolm approached, peering at Zim and his companions through a thick set of glasses. "How did you, uh, people get in here? This is a, ah, highly restricted area."
"Whoa," Malcolm said. "I like your, uh, style."
"Yours isn't, ah, bad either. But who are you?"
"Dr. Ian Malcolm, at your service." Malcolm held out his hand, and his doppelganger shook it.
"David Levinson. I'm in charge of this part of the, uh, operation. If you can, ah, call it that."
Malcolm approached a few diagrams on the wall and peered at the screens next to them. He fingered his chin. "So, what's with all of this?"
"You wouldn't, ah, understand." Levinson offered the same smirk.
"I'm a chaos scientist," Malcolm said.
"I thought I'd, uh, heard of you. Perhaps you've, ah, heard of my work?"
"Not really. But it looks like you, ah, have some kind of invasion going on here. Those are, uh, some pretty impressive ships."
"You don't know the half of it," Levinson said. "These things have, ah, already destroyed several major cities, and, ah, they're threatening to take out more. I have this plan, though. I'm going to—"
"—infect the mothership with a computer virus?" Malcolm offered his most pompous smirk yet.
"How did you know? I'm the only one who can read this stuff."
"I can, too," Malcolm said. "I'm a chaos scientist. Computer viruses work on the behalf of entropy. Is any of this making sense to you?"
"No," Zim said. "And shut up. The both of you."
"Zim?" Ando asked.
"You, too," Zim said. "I have to get us out of here."
Malcolm ignored them. "I have faith in this plan, Dr. Levinson. The trick is delivering it—"
"—and surviving," Levinson said. "I know. It's a hell of a ballsy, ah, plan, but that's why I'm going. I can't ask anyone else to, ah, do it in my place."
Malcolm laughed. "You're pretty crazy. You, ah, you go on with your bad self."
Zim rubbed his eyes. "Jesus Christ, shut up! Or I'm going to leave you here to face the alien invasion."
"No problem, ah, Zim-ster," Malcolm said. "This planet's in good hands. Let's, ah, make like a tree."
Zim tried not to grimace when Malcolm touched his shoulder this time. Ando, he could deal with, but Malcolm was just rubbing him the wrong way. He pinched his eyes shut and concentrated as hard as he could. Fitz's living room. His thoughts: huge TV, crappy table and chairs, sliding glass door. Seinfeld box set on the coffee table, super-comfy chair that he once puked on, wasn't there a fly on the window?
When Zim opened his eyes he found that he was thankfully no longer in the world of ID4, but when he saw that David Levinson had joined them for this little jaunt, he blanched. "Come on! You weren't even touching me! Why are you here?"
"Ah, never mind that," Malcolm said. "I'd be more worried about that."
Ando screamed like a girl, and Levinson gagged. "It's horrible. Horrible!"
Zim sighed and turned his attention to whatever was going to plague him now . . .
