"My Tallest, we have an unscheduled, encrypted transmission hailing the Massive."
Red sucked on the curly straw that looped around his very fancy, very impressive floaty chair and led to a so-so pink cocktail. The bureaucrat in charge of drinks today was disappointing him. He spun around in his chair, head tilted back.
"Why do I care?" He glanced at Purple, who was in the middle of getting his feet rubbed by yet another disappointing little drone. Purple held up one hand and batted his fingers together, yap yap yap.
"My Tallest, the hail sign, it's from exile Tak."
Red did a spit take. He didn't need to, but he wanted an opportunity to spit on the Irken rubbing Purple's feet. He hit the masseur right in the eye.
"Tak? Purple, has she finally done it? Has she filled a planet with snacks?"
Purple shrugged, edging his feet away from the drone at his feet who was now clutching his eye and screaming.
"Well, pull it up, you idiot," Red said, taking another sip of his cocktail. Finally something exciting was happening. The screen massive screen flickered on. The feed quality was abysmal, but the face it displayed was unmistakable.
"No..." Purple whispered. "No, no, NO! Not you!"
"How many times do we have to kill you?" Red shrieked, throwing his drink at the screen.
Zim's cocked his head to the side, a grin slicing his face in half.
"At least once more, my Tallest."
Red glanced at Purple, who was trembling. Red kicked him in the shin. Purple took a long steadying slurp from his cocktail.
"So you killed your filthy little friend? Such a sad species, if they couldn't take out a PAKless little smeet like you," he sneered.
Zim laughed, "Is that what you think, my Tallest? Truly is that what you believe? That Zim is weak? You have exiled me, deactivated me, stripped me of the chemicals that fuel the mighty Irken armada, and set a crazed beast after me. Do I not still stand? What more will you throw at me?"
It was not new to see madness in his eyes, but it went deeper now. Something had broken in him or something had been restored. Red could not say. He slashed his hand across his throat, signaling to mute the feed.
"Out! All of you, out!" he shrieked. He grabbed Purple's cocktail out of his hand and threw it on the ground.
"Yes, my Tallest," the drones barked in unison before marching out the door. The masseur was last, still holding his eye and running into the door frame before being pulled through by his compatriots. The door slammed shut behind him.
"He knows," Red hissed. He tapped his claws against the console. Zim had figured out he was muted and had leaned back in his chair, tapping his own claws together.
"So?" Purple responded. "He's stuck on that ball of dirt. We deactivated his base, blew up his ship. What's he going to do?"
"He's communicating with us now, isn't he? Using Tak's call code... maybe that bitch left a ship there."
"Okay," Purple flicked his own antennae distractedly. "Let's say he has a ship and proof that we... streamline Irken attitudes, what's he going to with it? Write a scathing op-ed?"
He awkwardly patted Red on the head. Red stared past him, trying to figure out where Zim was. All he could make out was smoke and twisted heaps of metal. Every few moments, Zim's eyes flicked downwards, focusing on something off-screen. What's his angle? Irk wouldn't believe him, couldn't comprehend what he would say...
"I don't know.." Red muttered. He shuddered as Zim stared down at them, fingers steepled in front of his stepped to the control panel and rested a hand on the controls. "Let's see what he has to say."
"You look troubled, my Tallest. Perhaps you are wondering what I intend to do with all this, let us say, delicate, information my former companion extracted from the PAK?"
"It's pointless Zim," Purple hissed. "What's your plan? Not a single Irken would believe or care-"
"No, they wouldn't," Zim replied. "That's why I wouldn't give it to them. I'd give it to the Resisty."
Red frowned. That's it? The Resisty were annoying, but he failed to see what they would do with the information. In a best case scenario for Irk, the information might demoralize them, lead them to abandon their efforts to stop the armada.
"Oh noooooo," Purple wailed, a hand draped across his forehead. "Not the Resisty. Whatever would we do?"
Zim giggled, a cracked, jagged sound. A tremor flashed through his body.
"But my Tallest," he crooned, enunciating their title with the sharpness of a razor blade, "You misunderstand. I don't care what they do with it."
He leaned even closer to the screen and whispered, "But what do you think they'll give me in return?"
"I-," Red paused, unsure what Zim was implying. Beside him, Purple slumped forward, holding his head in his hands and gasping.
"I think" Zim said delicately, "that they'll give me whatever I ask for, and what I'll ask for is the fastest, smallest, least-detectable black market ship they can get their hands on, and then..."
Zim sat back and again glanced down at something off screen. He winced, dug his fingers into the arms of the chair and looked back up.
"Then you will spend every waking minute wondering when I will finally find you, and kill you. Not the armada. Not the control brains. You two."
Purple had fallen into his chair, still holding his head. He was breathing fast. Cold fear bloomed in Red's splooch, spreading to the rest of his body. He can't do that, he's nothing! We tried to kill him. We tried to kill him again and AGAIN and we failed. He won't stop. Oh Irk, can we not stop him?
He swiped his finger across the panel, muting the feed again. Without moving he growled, "Get a PAK tech on the line, now."
Purple didn't answer, but Red heard the soft patter of fingers across a screen. As soon as it stopped, a voice crackled into existence.
"My Tallest! Tech affiliate Schnur at your service! What do you desire?"
"Tech affiliate Schnur, I need you to do something very, very important," Red hissed. "I need you to access live data from PAK 8967433i9 and perform a life-form reading within a five sub-unit radius. If you do this, you will become perhaps my favorite tech affiliate in the armada."
"Sir, yes sir!" The voice was replaced with tinny, low-quality hold music. Red and Purple waited, not speaking. There was nothing to say. Each already knew what the other was thinking. There would be no rest, no certainty. The time for games was over. The music cut out and the tech was back.
"My Tallest! I have performed a remote scan by accessing PAK 8967433i9's internal thermogyroregulators after bypassing-"
"Skip it, short stack!" Purple snapped.
"My apologies, my Almighty Tallest!" the tech squeaked. "The reading shows two lifeforms within the specified radius. One Irken form, within one sub-unit and one alien- this one apologizes for his errors in scanning, my Tallest, this one's readings show one alien interfaced with the PAK?"
"Is it alive?" Red growled.
"I-uh, yes, my Tallest, it-"
"Great, thanks, bye," Purple droned as he disconnected the call. Red knocked his knuckles against the console, thinking. He looked up at the screen, still trying to parse out what kind of environment Zim was in. He growled and swiped to resume audio on the feed.
"What do you want, Zim?" he spat. The question burned in his mouth. To ask an invader, a defective, what they wanted was obscene, nigh unimaginable.
Zim looked off-screen again. Looked at that thing he had grown so attached to, Red presumed.
"I want..." his voice trailed away as he looked away. "I want you to deactivate the PAK."
"And?" Purple asked, tension evident in his tone.
"That is all," Zim whispered. "Give me that, and I will stop."
Once again, Red muted the call. He spun to face Purple.
"Is that it?" he spat. "Is that truly all he wants?"
"It can't be..." Purple murmured, eyes unfocused. "He's lying. It makes no sense."
"Get that PAK tech back on!"
It took Purple only a moment to reconnect with the tech.
"My Tallest, my apologies if I upset you," he cried. "This one must have misread the readings-"
"Schnur, I need you to shut your trap and listen," Red snapped. " We are about to perform an amazing, nay, a legendary feat of diplomacy on behalf of the Irken empire, and you, my little friend, are going to be an integral part of it. Do you understand?"
Silence.
"Do you understand?" Red screamed.
"I-you told me to shut my trap."
Red screamed and slammed his head against the console.
"Okay, wise guy, tell me you understand and then shut your trap."
"I understand, sir!"
Red took a deep breath.
"You are going to be absolutely silent while we conduct this diplomacy. When I say 'we agree to your terms' you are going to initiate disengagement procedures for the PAK. Understand?"
Silence. Red ground his teeth.
"Then when I complete the diplomacy by saying 'suck it,' you are going to initiate PAK self-destruct. If you do this, you will be promoted to head of tech for the entire armada." As he looked back at Purple, his face conveying a certain 'yeah right' attitude.
He swiped his finger across the console once more, restoring audio communication with Zim.
"Zim, you are an insane, pathetic, defective, sad excuse for an invader."
Zim shrugged.
"However," Red flashed a smile, clasping his hands behind his back to hide how they shook. "We agree to your terms."
He heard a screech and saw Zim's eyes dart off-screen and widen at what was happening. He waited until Zim wrenched his gaze back to the camera. Zim was trembling.
"Then we are done, my Tallest."
"Oh," Red said distractedly. "One, last thing?"
"Hmm?" Zim was distracted, eyes going to whatever was happening off-screen.
"Suck it," Red spat. Though the audio quality was poor, he heard a deep beeping begin. He waited to see delicious fear on Zim's face. He'd thrived on it during Zim's withdrawal. Surely this would be even sweeter. Zim looked down, smiled, and looked back up at the camera.
"Thank you," he whispered before lunging out of the chair. Red and Purple heard a clang as a blaze of green light sprung up. The feed cut off as an explosion erupted.
They stared up at a wall of static.
"Did we do it?" Purple whispered.
"I don't know."