Before they had a solid grasp of just how dismal the Resisty's finances were, Zim, Tak, and Skoodge bought themselves brand new tailored clothes—they had to be easily distinguishable from the rest of the crew, after all. Their new uniforms were cohesive, yet unique to each of their tastes. They were mostly black, with a single accent color: Skoodge's was a more fitted jumpsuit with shoulder pads; Tak's had long front and back panels with side cut-outs for a full range of leg motion; Zim's had pointed coattails. All had a colored circle between their shoulder blades with a black X struck through the center. And new gloves and boots to finish.
Time began to move quickly. Ship construction ran double-time to account for design improvements Tak had drawn up and new relationships had to be forged with the Resisty's old sources of funding, mostly civilizations that had been taken over by the Empire. They were none too pleased to find a trio of Irkens at the helm of their resistance, and a few went completely dark. Every day was spent wondering if they would have enough to purchase armored paneling for the ship's exterior, or supply every mouth with rations for the next cycle, or even just power the hangar for another night. But they couldn't turn to the black market for funding—nothing they had to spare was worth selling.
Then a miracle happened. Skoodge had been broadcasting encrypted messages to Tenn's VOOT runner after getting no response from Planet Meekrob in the hope that she at least still had the same ship. One night, after many had passed without a response, another encrypted message came through. It was only two words: "I'm here." But it began a long chain of communication that gave the Resisty intel—and intel on the Irken Empire was just as valuable as big, shiny weapons on Cyberflox. Needless to say, they no longer had to worry about keeping the lights on.
But now Skoodge was getting antsy.
"She's out in the Scabs, Zim! You remember how nasty it was out there," he wailed, begging Zim to let him go get Tenn for the third time that week.
Zim had only hazy memories of training out in the Scabs, probably because he'd blocked out that period of his life. The Scabs were a wretched chain of dwarfish, misshapen exoplanets out on the drop-off of the galaxy—only darkness lay beyond, and it was said that any ships that ventured out into that everlasting, starless night were never seen again. At the time, Zim couldn't fathom why someone would want to run off into that terrifying beyond when they were so close to gaining Elite statue; the Scabs hosted the last stages of training needed to qualify for the Elite-level testing back on Devastis. All but a small, privileged portion of soldiers (i.e. those who were tall enough) were sent to that loathsome collection of dirt wads to separate the smeets from the Irkens who were truly worthy of enacting their Empire's galactic conquest.
"What on Irk is she doing in the Scabs?" Zim asked, trying to contain a shudder.
"Well, her invasion of Meekrob failed. Something about being sent a batch of defective SIR units," Skoodge replied. "The only reason she wasn't taken out by the natives was because Meekrob happened to be the next stop on the Armada's flight path; they nuked the planet before they could muster up a good defense force. The Tallest weren't very happy with her and the Control Brains reassigned her to training instructor out in the Scabs."
"Not too bad, all things considered. She could've been sent to Foodcourtia," Zim said bitterly.
"I'd rather go through a hundred Foodenings than be stuck in perpetual darkness for the rest of my days," Skoodge said.
"When's the last time you saw a Foodening?"
"Come on, Zim, you're missing the point!" Skoodge yelled. Zim was surprised to hear him sounding legitimately angry. "You promised me that if I helped take over the Resisty, I could go get Tenn, and now I'm holding you to it. I can't stand to think of her being miserable out there anymore!"
"Does she know the full extent of our operation?"
"Huh?"
"In your conversations with her, have you told her that this group of aliens you're staying with are a resistance force against her Empire? That after every chit-chat you have with her, you feed her intel into the enemy's network? Oh, and also, does she know that I'm here? You know, the bane of the Empire's existence? Who's supposed to be dead?"
"I…I've hinted that there are anti-Irken sentiments."
"And? How did she take that?"
"She was a little upset by it at first," Skoodge said, looking down at his boots. "But, the more we've talked, the more she's revealed that she's tired of the Empire's nonsense, too. I mean, she was an Invader and now she's out in the Scabs."
"That doesn't mean she'd be prepared to take off her PAK, turn against the Empire, and kill the Tallest," Zim said. "We have to be completely certain that she's ready before I can give you permission to retrieve her."
"Well, how am I supposed to get her on board if all the stuff about the PAKs and the Tallest are confidential?" Skoodge whined.
"I declare that it is now un…confidential."
"O-oh! Okay! Geez, where should I even start? I have another broadcast session scheduled with her in an hour."
"Start with whatever feels right, I guess. PAKs, maybe? That'll help prime her for the whole killing the Tallest thing."
"You think so?"
"It worked on Tak."
Skoodge got that knowing grin on his face that Zim hated.
"Don't start," Zim growled.
"Alright. I won't," Skoodge said, putting his hands up. "Anyway, thanks for giving me the okay. I'll talk to Tenn and soon she'll be here with us."
"I can barely contain my excitement," Zim said disinterestedly.
Skoodge kept smiling as he walked off, but before he got out of earshot, he yelled over his shoulder, "Tak's in the main hangar, just so you know!"
Zim growled, heat flaring in his cheeks. His hand went to the side of his head, fingers tracing the thick, dark scar Lattice had given him. With strong healing ointment, it could've almost completely disappeared by now. But he'd wanted it to heal naturally, to serve as a reminder to himself and others of what he was capable of surviving.
He threw himself back into the chair that had once belonged to Lard Nar, in front of the array of monitors in the captain's quarters. His main project since becoming captain was to sift through row after row of code from his PAK, a virtual alternative to the examinations he'd done on its physical parts. He was trying to identify as much of the Curse code as he could in order to fashion a weapon against the Control Brains, like Tak had suggested. If all went as planned, he would simply need to insert a disc or drive of some sort into the interface system that connected them to the Massive. Then, the Curse would complete its infection and the Brains would be utterly corrupted.
But now, thanks to Skoodge, he could barely concentrate on the boring letters and numbers flashing on the screens. Ever since the night Tak had saved him from Lattice, and the moment on the gurney when he felt the ethereal shift between them, he'd struggled to act normally around her, especially if they were alone. It felt like he was having an allergic reaction, with how his throat would constrict and his heart would pound as his body would break out in sweats. Meanwhile, she'd just be trying to correct the schematics he'd drawn up for his new VOOT, annoyed with him as usual. He'd never experienced such feelings before, and it made him wonder if PAKs also suppressed primal urges that the Control Brains had yet to completely wipe from the Irken psyche. It left Zim to wonder: if Skoodge and Tenn had feelings for one another, and he had feelings…could Tak have them, too?
"Hey, nitwit," Tak said, suddenly behind him.
Zim nearly jumped out of his skin, shrieking in surprise.
"What, what is it?" he barked, collecting himself.
"They did it. The ship is finished," she said.
"It…it is?"
"Yes."
"The artificial gravity system has been tested?"
"Yep."
"All the buttons and knobs have been added to all the control panels?"
"Affirmative."
"The windows have all been polished?"
"Shiny as ever."
"Every bolt tightened, every snack packed, every bingle bongled?"
"I don't know what that last one means, but yes! It's all done! Every last thing," she said.
Zim stared down at the tabletop, strewn with number sheets and schematics and ration bar wrappers. It was done. They had done it.
His eyes shot up to meet hers. "What about a name?"
Tak nearly gave the affirmative, but caught herself, antennae falling. "Oh. I guess there is one last thing we have to do. Other than blast off and kill the Tallest, right?" she laughed. Tak had become steadily giddier the nearer the ship came to completion—Zim thought she could give a newborn smeet with a lollipop in its mouth competition.
"You mean go to Earth. We have to pick up the Dib-human first," he reminded her. "And then we'll have to make a pitstop in the Scabs."
"What? The Scabs?" she asked, antennae pulling back.
"Skoodge wants to pick up Tenn. That's where she's stationed."
"But that's Irken territory."
"It'll be risky. But not much happens out that way. And if we do run into trouble, it'll be a good training opportunity."
"If you say so. I'd just hate to sustain significant damage in that brand new ship," she said wistfully.
"I know. But I promised we'd find a way to get her," he replied.
"I guess so. I'm just sick of waiting," she said. "Speaking of which, the rest of the crew is out in the hangar. Let's go!" She grabbed ahold of his arm and swept him away.
As they rushed through the corridors Zim couldn't help but think about how far they'd come; from their disgruntled tolerance of one another on Dirt to their amiable partnership now. He trusted her implicitly, and he knew that she trusted him, too. When they trained, they knew precisely how to lean into each other's strengths while covering their weaknesses. They moved with astounding synchronicity, as though they'd done it all their lives—as though they were the same being, the same brain, like a PAK and its host body. They ran the Resisty with an efficiency it had never seen before, keeping the crew in constant check like dogs on a herd of sheep. And yet, there was still a barrier that separated them from each other. Zim couldn't figure out what it was, but he was determined to find his way around it, or over it, or under it, or through it by means of explosives.
They found the head of the crowd and climbed onto a stray bit of scaffolding so they could look out over the crew, who marveled at their handiwork and chatted idly.
"Pipe down!" Tak yelled. "We have to do one last thing before the ship is complete: give her a name! Your captain will now give his suggestions."
Suddenly all eyes were on Zim. His antennae sprang up. "Oh! Uh, yes! A name. It's a very important thing to have, otherwise no one would know what to call you. And it's bad luck to fly a ship without a name. So, it's going to need one. Before we fly it."
"You don't have any ideas, do you?" Tak asked, even though she said it like a statement.
"No! No, that's not it at all. I just thought…" he looked out at the crowd again. "I just thought it should be an open forum! What names do you all like?"
The crew members looked side to side at one another, shrugging and muttering. Then Spleenk rushed forward and said, "Let's call it the Resisty Mach 2!"
"The Resisty Mach 2?" Zim said, upper lip curling in disgust.
"Well, the old ship was the Resisty, so it seems right that this would be number two," Spleenk replied. The crowd hummed in assent.
"Wait, wait, wait. The old ship was just called the Resisty?"
"Yeah."
"But the organization is called the Resisty."
"Yeah."
"So, you just named it after the resistance?"
"Yeah."
"That's so stupid!" Zim said, smacking his forehead.
"You're just mad cuz you can't think of anything better!" Veedo yelled, putting a hand on the dejected Spleenk's shoulder.
"Can too! My incredible brain meats are just busy working on other, more amazing things, so it takes them longer to complete menial tasks like this. But I'm ready now! We'll call it…we…will call it…" Zim trailed off, looking back over his shoulder at the ship. It was unusual to look at, because it comprised many styles—Irken, Vortian, and Meekrob, most prominently. The central hold was deep red and rounded, modeled after the Massive, and two long, curved wings protruded from the front, like battering rams. But despite the unconventional redesigns, the vessel's curves, lines, wings, hulls, engines, and cannons looked unified.
Zim suddenly knew what he wanted to name the ship, the thing that was the combined effort of the crew and the result of his and Tak's work as the new leaders of the resistance.
He looked out to the crowd. "Unity," he said.
"What?" someone yelled.
"The ship will be called the Unity," he repeated.
The crowd was silent, staring at him. Then they burst into boos and moans.
"You think our idea was stupid? That's stupid!" Spleenk yelled.
"No it's not!" Zim roared. "This ship represents everything we've worked together to build—it's a symbol of our unification, across the boundaries of space and species, against the Irken Empire! Unity is a name that means something! And it's actually thoughtful, I put thought into that!"
"Well, we don't like it," Veedo said, crossing his arms.
"But you know what we do like? Resisty Mach 2, Resisty Mach 2," Spleenk began to chant. Veedo joined in and soon the entire crowd was chanting the horrible name over and over and over. Zim tried to make them stop, but they were too loud. He yanked his antennae in fury and finally relented.
"ALRIGHT!" he bellowed; the crowd settled down. "Fine! If you ingrates want the ship to be called the Resisty Mach 2, so be it. And we'll be the laughingstock of the galaxy!"
The crew cheered in victory, fists flying into the air. Veedo gave Spleenk a congratulatory pat on the back as the spindly alien wiped a tear of triumph from his eye.
Zim shot a glare over at Tak. "Let's give the Resisty Mach 2 an inspection so I can find something to yell at them about."
She grinned and hopped off of the scaffolding after him. They walked up the main ramp into the loading dock, where the few one and two-man ships they had were already tucked in and awaiting takeoff. At first, Zim just fumed and muttered to himself, but the deeper into the ship they walked, the more his anger fell away. Every corridor shone, un-scuffed by boots and un-dinged by bumps and blasty-fire. The main deck offered a wide, panoramic view of the hangar, which would soon be replaced by space; in the center, a holo-map projector to display their course and the trajectory of enemy vessels. It smelled new. And it was all theirs.
"Let's go look at the captain's quarters!" Zim exclaimed. "I haven't seen it with all the paneling installed!"
Tak pulled her eyes away from the transmission panel and followed quickly after him. They took the lift pod all the way to the top floor and followed a long corridor to a room at the front of the ship. Zim placed his hand on the bio-scanner and doors whooshed open. It was a dome-shaped room with a U-shaped sitting area and a chair elevated above the other bench seats; at one end was an alcove for resting.
"Watch this," he said, punching a code into a panel on the wall. The ceiling became a hologram of the outside, giving them a 360-degree view of everything beyond.
"It's going to be beautiful when we're out in space," Tak said, shaking her head in wonder.
"Wait, wait, that's not even my favorite part," he said, running to a wall adjacent to the sleeping nook. Another keypad appeared as he approached and he punched in a few codes. "Dance Hall Days" filled the room from the discreet surround sound system he'd installed himself.
"I scanned and uploaded all of the Dib-human's music discs to the computer so I can listen to them whenever I want! I even implemented an algorithm that can play songs from any disc at random; I call it 'shuffle,'" he said proudly. He spun a few times on the heel of his boot and stepped from side to side in time with the beat.
"I'm glad you found something so important to spend your time on but…what are you doing?" she asked.
Zim stopped, an embarrassed flush creeping up his face. "Oh! It's, uh…it was dancing. But it's nothing, it's nothing."
She smirked at him. "Another bizarre human habit you picked up?"
"Another? What else have I done that's so strange?"
"Well, you certainly took on an accent. Sometimes I could barely understand your Irken when you first came to Dirt. And you write with odd symbols occasionally; human script, if I recall it correctly," she said, sauntering closer with each example. "And of course, we can't forget your fondness for their music."
He eyed her up and down, sticking his lip out in a pout. "Well, at least they're entertaining quirks."
"Oh?"
"Yes, dancing can be quite fun. Or at least the humans seemed to have fun doing it."
"Is that so?"
Rather than answering her, Zim did another spin, then a backwards shuffle, a few shoulder shimmies thrown in for flair.
"You look ridiculous," she said.
"But I'm having fun," he replied. "Don't you think we deserve some fun after all we've been through?"
A sad smile crossed her face and she glanced down at her boots, polished and perfect even after several months of wear. "I don't know how."
"To dance?"
"To have fun," she looked back up at him. "At least, not until someone shows me."
He swallowed, that allergic reaction feeling pinpricking at his skin. But, like he'd seen humans do, he raised a hand to her, palm up; an offering. She studied it dubiously for a moment, then accepted. He took her other hand and began by pulling her arms forward and back, one at a time, as uncertain about what he was doing as she was. Then he locked their fingers together and spun them. Her face was flushed, but as the dizziness took hold she started to laugh, and he laughed with her.
"I Want to Know What Love is" came on next. They stopped, still giggling.
"This is slower. How do you dance to it?" Tak asked.
"Uh," Zim said, voice cracking. "Kind of…like this."
He took her hands again and placed them on his shoulders; he put his own on her waist, to which she made a strangled sound.
"We don't have to," he said.
"Well, no, if that's the way it's done, fine, I just—it's strange," she said, staring at some point on the floor. "Is…is that it?"
"No, we have to move a little," he said. He led them in a small, slow circle, stepping from one foot to the next. They were both rigid, holding each other at the furthest possible distance while still touching.
"So…this is all we do? For the whole song?" she asked.
"Eh…sort of. That's how it worked at the Earth school dances I attended."
"Dances? What, did they have whole events just for dancing?"
"They did."
"Ridiculous. And you went?"
"To a few. I had to blend in, and multiple sources confirmed that only abnormal people don't attend dances. Then I discovered there were many humans who didn't go because they deemed the dances 'lame.' But not the crippled way; on Earth, the term means something more like 'superfluous.' The Dib-human never went to any for that reason."
She looked thoughtfully over his shoulder. "So, what is the purpose of a dance event, then?"
"It's a social gathering for young humans, mostly. Purely for amusement. And…well…"
"What?"
Now he looked away. "There were…elements of courtship as well. If two humans bonded well enough, they might attend the dance as a pair. Or pair up at the event."
"Pair up?" she asked. "As in, dance together?"
"Yes."
"So…we're paired up right now?"
Zim was so hot he thought he might pass out. "W-well, uh…sort of? S-sort of, yes, because we're dancing as a pair, b-but that doesn't have to mean anything, not in the Earth context, we're just doing the move, I-I'm just showing you the move—,"
"Shut up," she said. "You're getting off-tempo."
His jaw snapped shut. After another moment, he let out a gust of breath. "Right," he said.
The song was coming to a close. Just a little longer and they could separate and get back to the silly bouncy stuff. But his shuffle algorithm betrayed him and switched to "Can't Fight This Feeling."
"Oh, another slow one. I can change it, I'll just have the computer play something else—,"
Her claws pressed into his shoulders. "No, let it go. I'm getting the hang of this one."
"O-okay."
"Unless you don't—,"
"No! No, let's keep going," Zim said, his own hands tightening on her involuntarily. They went in a few circles, not as stiff as before.
"Okay, there has to be a variation to this," Tak said.
"There are a few," he replied. "But…they require us to be a bit closer."
"That's alright."
He stepped closer and took one of her hands, holding it next to them at shoulder height, like he'd seen in a movie once. Her other arm bent and rested against his own; his other hand remained on her waist. In their new position, he led them in a box step. Except he didn't fully understand how to do a box step, so they squashed each other's toes a lot. But soon enough they found a rhythm, just like they had in every other aspect of their lives, which orbited more and more closely with time, like a binary star system unceasingly tightened by gravity.
"So, this is all there is to it. To a dance. To pairing up," Tak said, meeting his eyes.
"Sometimes there's more," Zim said.
"Like what?"
Should he try it? The thing he'd wanted to do when he saw her wounds after the fight with Thork? The thing humans did at dances when the song reached its big crescendo, like REO Speedwagon was doing right now? Stop worrying, it's very un-Zim. Stop worrying and just—
He brought his face forward too fast, so his teeth banged against his lips, and his lips against her lips, and her teeth beyond that. He'd yanked her forward, so their hips and torsos were pressed together, just like their backs when they slept at night. Their legs were crisscrossed, his left, her right, his right, her left. Their other hands were locked together, a set of claws to dig into each set of knuckles.
Her teeth clamped down on his lower lip and, with a yelp, he released her and backed away. They stared wide-eyed at one another. Their binary system had grown too close, burning as it tried to become a single, brilliant, radioactive mass. The song changed, but he didn't hear what it was.
"What was that?" Tak asked.
"A thing humans do. A kiss," Zim said.
"Why?" she asked through gritted teeth; teeth with his blood on them, the blood of his mouth. "Why are you so obsessed with doing what humans do?"
"I…I was just…trying to show you," he'd been so hot before, but now he was sharply, frightfully cold. "Look, I'm sorry, I should've asked, I—,"
"Shut up!" she snapped. "Just for five seconds, shut up." She turned away from him, hands on her head and running over her antennae.
He clenched and unclenched his fists five times. "Tak, I'm—,"
"For the love of Irk, stop."
"Come on, I'm trying to say I'm sorry! I should've known you wouldn't like it, but—,"
"No! That's not the problem," her hands hovered in front of her like she wanted to make a cage around herself but didn't because, more than that, she wanted to be strong.
He almost blurted out more half-baked apologies, but locked his jaws shut, waiting. That was the only way with her, sometimes; to wait until she'd made the decision for herself, whatever it turned out to be.
She wouldn't look at him, but she spoke. "When you landed on Dirt, I hated you. When you made me take off my PAK, I hated you. When you dragged me to Cyberflox and enlisted me in the Resisty and I got that horrible device shoved into my back, I hated you. There are so many parts of myself I've lost since you came: my desire to be an Invader, to please the Tallest, my perception of myself as defective. Even my PAK, half of myself, lost. But my hatred for you remained constant. It was the one thread of myself that connected who I was to who I became. But…at some point…it just vanished. And I didn't even care. I didn't care that the last thing that made me me just…went away. Now, here I am, sleeping next to you, acting like a complete fool—letting you put your mouth on my mouth! But the worst part is I don't hate it. I don't hate you. I-I don't know who I am anymore. And…and I don't know what to do…"
A retching gasp cut her off and she did something even more surprising; she cried. Exactly five big, pink-tinted tears: two for the right eye, three for the left. Her face convulsed angrily, like it was trying to hide the tears away in the folds of her skin. It didn't work and she roughly palmed them away.
"And now I'm crying, in front of you of all people. Because this new version of Tak is pathetic on top of being insane," she said. Her arms finally crossed.
Zim had no idea what to do or say. Even Dib had never had such an outpouring in front of him. The song changed once more, to "The Lights Go Down." He stopped breathing; he hadn't heard it since he'd curled up in Tak's ship for what he thought would be his final sleep. Was there any part of him that was still connected to that old incarnation? The one who was a defective Food Service Drone convinced he was an Invader; the one who wanted nothing more than to be praised by the Tallest; the one who hated Tak and had just used her ship as a means to get away from the planet of his greatest failures?
He walked past Tak and stopped the music. Then he returned to her, but stayed just far enough away that even if he reached out, he couldn't touch her.
"I'm not sure who I am anymore, either," he said. "Most days I don't really feel like Zim at all. Zim doesn't win invasions, Zim doesn't share his victories, Zim doesn't…care about people. Or like spending time with them. Or dance, Zim definitely doesn't dance. Not when people are looking, anyway."
She smiled a little, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Doesn't it scare you?"
"Maybe. Sometimes. But I think the old Zim was a lot more scared. He just didn't want to admit it," he said. "And his PAK probably regulated how much fear he felt."
Now a bitter laugh came out. "Right. I thought I'd miss the weapons most, but maybe it's the higher functions that did more to protect us."
"No. To control us," he said. "This is who we're supposed to be."
She sighed. "I don't think I like who I'm supposed to be very much."
"I like you," he said.
Tak stared at him blankly for a few moments, perhaps preparing to say something more, but then her expression turned sad again. She began to walk away.
"W-wait, where are you going?" Zim called after her.
"To polish my boots," she replied, not looking back. "Some little bug stepped all over them."
The door hissed shut. Zim didn't know if he'd broken past the final barrier between them or fortified it to an impenetrable state. All he knew was that his lower lip was throbbing, the room was still and quiet, and he was alone.
Author Note: YAYYYYY this is the other one I've been really excited to post! It's the reason for the story's name change lol. I hope you enjoyed the romance, conflict, 80s music, and terrible ship names.