I've been writing in a frenzy whilst moving for days—no time to do much else besides write since I never feel like I have the time to draw—so enjoy this chapter! It's 5K words and I had fun writing from a new perspective~

Enjoy!

Part 67: Alternatives

Zim pulled the electric chisel away from the metal. The grooves were uneven, laden with small ridges from the chisel, but what he cared about was that they were sized and placed correctly. He looked the whole surface over, taking a step away to get more of the metal's surface into view. He'd decided on five lines to accentuate the appearance of teeth rather than trying to actually design teeth. The colored orbs could be eyes, if she used her imagination. He wasn't entirely sure he was doing this right, but that's what testing was for. He'd use a better chisel on the final PAK's shell as well.

As for Dib's PAK, the boy had yet to give him any direction. He was taking his time, clearly, but Zim was still not a very patient person. He'd have to choose something soon if he wanted any customization before the PAK was a permanent fixture on his back and it possibly took several sessions to get the customization done. Putting that thought aside for now, Zim slid both shells to the side to cool.

Gir hopped onto the table, taking Gaz's test shell up in his hands with an 'oooo'. Zim ignored him for now. He dragged a third shell over, looking over the smooth surface. His PAK told him he had a couple of hours before Dib was done in his classes. He took his gloves off, running his finger pads over the metal with a hum. A design for the shell was escaping him. He'd designed the entire set of PAKs from the shell down to the smallest, unseen, interior detail.

And yet this design was proving to be the most difficult aspect of any of them. It was just his luck. Zim sighed, leaning back in his seat. He tapped the end of the tablet pen to his chin. He supposed being stuck on the design of the shell wasn't the worst part to be stuck on. He'd made it more streamlined, forming more of an upside-down triangle than the ovular shape of the typical PAK. The orbs were slightly larger in comparison to the size ratio of the original PAK's design as well. Figuring out what design he wanted engraved on the exterior was really the only visual aspect giving him a headache.

He'd ensured it would operate to maximum efficiency. Any updates he needed he could code himself. His old PAK would be set up in the lab, syncing only the necessary data to The Control Brains and to mask his continued existence. If he set it into hibernation for a few decades it wouldn't look too suspicious, either. Far as they were concerned, Earth was not a priority on any list and was too far out to bother with for now.

Aside from tuning it to his own body—harder to do since that particular set of information was one of the things The Control Brains guarded rather heavily for, he assumed now, obvious reasons—it was for all intents and purposes as complete as the siblings' PAKs. But he could never feel like it was truly "complete" until he had finished the shell. First, however, he had to actually finish building it. Replication of a PAK was not something he'd fooled himself into thinking was going to be easy, but he had thought it would have been easier than this.

He was missing a few key components. They could easily—illegally—be purchased at the Market, however, so he wasn't that concerned. It might be a little concerning to go for Irken parts that any regular Irken should feasibly have access to, but he doubted anyone would openly question him about that.

He was at least thankful that he had managed to get this far without the Empire sending anyone to check on him. Defective Irkens were a touchy subject among The Control Brains, he knew. Avoiding deactivation once was enough for him. He doubted he'd get that lucky a second time. Granted his luck seemed to flip flop like a dying fish, so he couldn't really be sure.

He was certain that forming bonds outside the Empire—bonds like this even among other Irkens—was looked down upon. Forming acquaintances was tenuously acceptable among fellow Irkens. There was a difference between an ally and an acquaintance. Most Irkens were automatically allies—especially during times of Invasion or war—but Zim suspected few were past that. Even the other Irken scientists in the shared labs were fidgety when their brainstorming sessions delved too close to that territory of interaction.

Speaking of the Market, he could get Gir some new parts while he was at it. Perhaps some race somewhere had developed something he could use as the interior coating for the robot's stomach that happened to be easier to clean peanut butter off of. And syrup. And honey. And waffles.

Zim banged his head on the desk, headache already forming just thinking about cleaning Gir's inner mechanisms again. It didn't matter what food Dib brought into the house. Gir found a way to gunk up his insides with it one way or another. And almost never purposefully. The robot was "an agent of chaos" as Gaz had put it. If anything, Zim fancied himself an agent of chaos, but Gir did very well on his own as well, so he couldn't refute it.

"Dib's home," The Computer drones. Zim peeled his face off the desk with a sigh of relief.

"FINALLY."

"You could have gone—"

"I'm acing the classes without attending, don't nag me," Zim ordered. He ignored the responding sigh as he raced up the elevator. He met Dib in the living room, immediately throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Finally, you're back from that overcharged prison."

"It's college and you could have come with me," Dib shot back, poking his cheek. Zim swatted his hand away with a pout.

"It's unnecessary."

"It's a cheat is what it is, you ass," Dib groaned. "I should have made up an illness so I could stay home, too. You devious bastard."

"You mean ingenious bastard."

"I mean bastard," Dib laughed, dumping the contents of his backpack onto the coffee table. Zim picked up the Art Appreciation textbook, looking it over.

"Why do you need this? You're majoring in science, aren't you?"

"They like to watch us suffer," Dib says, deadpan. Zim just blinked at him. He sighed, taking the book. "It's brain dead-ing-ly boring. But, I'm still in general studies and it's required. It doubles as a history class, too, so there's that," Dib said with a shrug. He paused in setting all his subjects up, looking up at Zim slowly. "Aren't you in it, too?"

"No. I speed read the text and tested out of it," Zim said with a smug smirk. "It looked the most torturous. I was not doing that."

"Ass."

Zim just shrugged, smirk remaining. His antennae flicked towards the kitchen. Gir was getting into something and humming softly to himself. Zim's shoulders sagged. The universe knew what he'd been mulling over earlier and was being spiteful, he just knew it.

"Come with me tomorrow at least?" Dib asked. "I'm going to die of boredom. There's enough extra seats you can just sit in. She won't care."

"Mmmm… no."

"I'll buy you three milkshakes."

"No."

"Four milkshakes."

"…mmmmm…." Zim smiled devilishly. "No."

Dib stared at him carefully. Then, slowly, held his hand out to shake. "Five milkshakes… and an entire industrial box of FunDip."

"Deal!" Zim shouted, happily shaking the boy's hand.

He fell into the cushions next to Dib, watching him go over his work and ignoring the laughter Gir was making in the kitchen. He would deal with it later. For now, he was content to just lean on Dib and simultaneously inhibit his workflow just slightly.

The campus was… not as bad as Zim had imagined it to be. He'd expected to see at least some trash along the sidewalks, but the ample amount of trashcans really didn't give anyone an excuse not to use them. Dib had mentioned something about a fine to students caught littering, and that definitely had something to do with it as well, but he was just grateful he didn't have to deal with any trash. The layout was not exactly simple to understand. The overall map looked a little like a maze, but the subjects of major study were quartered off into their own sections of buildings. Maps were placed all over the campus exterior and interiors.

"Couldn't they tear it down and rebuild it?" Zim had asked, staring at one map. "Rather than adding more and more buildings on with no sense of design?"

"You severely overestimate how much time and money they're willing to budget for that," Dib had responded with the mirth in his voice barely contained. It was a strained almost-laugh.

"The buildings are…"

"It's because it was built over decades. Different architectural styles shifting over the course of decades means weird architecture," Dib said, leading the way to class.

Zim was dependent on following him, hellbent on not letting Dib out of his sight should he get lost otherwise, and so had to take in the buildings in passing. He had picked out at least eight styles so far, with very loose matching conventions across them, as if the designers were giving the minimum effort to keep to theme. Most of the "theme" was in the color design. Zim's neck craned as they neared their building. The wall was porous beyond anything he'd seen before in modern architecture. He grabbed Dib's sleeve and pointed at it with an incredulous look that had Dib snorting.

"I told you—different style conventions."

"What convention involves making it look like swiss cheese?!" Zim asked. Dib laughed, bending over for a moment until he could compose himself.

"God, I don't know. The eighties? It sounds like an eighties thing."

Zim looked up at it again, gaze narrowing on a specific window. He pointed up to it. "That there, sixth floor window that's open. Is that the class?"

"I mean, the angle looks like it would be right, but I don't actually know."

"I see. I'll race you," Zim offered, devious smirk returning. Dib eyed it warily.

"No spider legs."

Obviously, Zim thought. He nodded regardless.

"Just our own skills. No assistance from my PAK will be necessary."

Dib mulled over it a moment. "Okay, if you win, I'll get you a giant cookie from the café. If I win, you get me a whole box of Red Bull."

"Your heart is going to explode one day, but deal," Zim said, shaking Dib's hand. He almost immediately dashed for the wall. Dib floundered after him, lost for words as Zim started to scale the building.

"Y-you can't do that!" Dib shouted up at him. Zim paused almost halfway up to look back down at him. A few of the students who had been coming up on the building as well had stopped to stare.

"If they didn't want students climbing it, then they shouldn't have put so many footholds on the sides."

"THEY AREN'T FOOTHOLDS! IT'S JUST AESTHETIC ARCHITECTURE!" Dib screeched, rushing inside. If he used the nearest elevator, he could still beat him to the classroom. And maybe not get a suspension for the bullshit Zim was deriving his current high from.

Dib hit the button to close the doors with a fury. Once the doors were shut, he held the button down, skipping the floors for the fastest ascension possible. The elevator was moving at normal pace, but he'd be damned if it didn't feel agonizingly slow. Once the elevator dinged on the sixth floor he was out before the doors were fully open, shoving past the waiting students who were about to enter. He shouted a half-hearted apology on his way past.

He burst through the classroom door, panting and looking frenzied. The classmates present all jumped when the door banged on the wall and Dib was sprinting to the open window.

"Dib?"

Dib hit the window just as Zim's head poked over the side. Zim looked at him, mouth open and brow furrowed in disbelief, and Dib laughed in his face.

"HA!"

"How?!" Zim shouted back. Dib could only laugh in victory and wheeze. Zim scowled at him for only a moment before he pulled himself through the window, pushing Dib aside and simultaneously using him to steady himself as he planted his feet firmly on the floor.

"You… owe me…." Dib coughed, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. "God, I'm gonna be sick… you owe me so much Red Bull."

"Don't remind me," Zim growled.

"…Mr. Membrane."

Dib froze. He stood slowly, turning to the front of the class, face beet red. The professor stood at her desk, having been sitting when he'd come in, and he hadn't even noticed in his haste to sprint to the window and claim his victory with no chance of Zim being able to argue otherwise.

"..Good morning, Professor Gray."

"Is it?" she asked. Dib's mouth formed a smirk at the cheeky response, but he fought it down.

"It's beautiful outside, actually," he said, gesturing to the window. "As I'm sure you know."

A couple of students, Zim included, hid their snickering. Poorly. Professor Gray only sighed, bowing her head. She shook her hair out, running a few fingers through it when she looked back up at him.

"I don't even know how to respond to this," she said, gesturing to the two boys. "Just take a seat. And your friend can sit… well, anywhere. I'm not about to ask he leave, or he might climb back out the window."

"Thank you, Professor!"

"I could get down fast—"

Dib snatched Zim's hand and yanked him towards the back, cutting his boasting short with an indignant squawk. Once they'd gotten seated a boy who was seated in front of them turned in his chair with a beaming smile.

"That was the best thing to happen in this class all semester," he says. Zim preened from the compliment and Dib banged his head on the desk.

"He is not making it a habit," Dib cuts in. At Zim's offended gasp he twisted his head to stare at him. "You don't even attend class, shut up."

"Well, if I can climb this swiss-cheese building every time, I may start," Zim retorts. The boy in front of them almost choked on his laughter.

"The what?"

"The building is swiss cheese," Zim explains.

Dib banged his head a second time. He was getting so much Red Bull for this, but at what cost?

Skoodge looked at the planet with slight confusion. It was bigger than he'd imagined, and much… greener. He'd initially thought it was blue, but as he'd neared it he could see the swathes of brown, tan, and green coating the rest of the planet. He kept himself as high in the sky as he could, above the clouds, as he flew over the surface, trying to follow where'd he'd pinged Zim's location. He had never been to the other Irken's base before. He'd never had a reason to come. To visit.

If an Irken was visiting another, it was typically due to official business. He'd been unable to come up with a viable excuse for the last few days. Or even one that Zim wouldn't question or see right through. Skoodge had never been the best at lying to his fellow Invaders, so he hadn't been very confident regardless, and had abandoned the idea altogether by the time he'd entered into the darkened part of the planet and was right above where Zim's location was set.

He looked over at the clocks he'd set. The one for Earth's time had connected with the orbiting satellites and already updated itself. 3 am. Was that too late to stop by? From what he could recall of Zim's reports, humans weren't typically nocturnal, and seemed exhausted if they were on a nocturnal schedule. Since it was still pitch black on this side of the planet, he would play it safe and assume that knocking on his base's door at this time was not typical human behavior.

He lowered his Cruiser onto the street, where the lights were broken and the road dark. He scanned the cars in front of him, flipping through the designs and picking one that was a few cars up, so the repetition wouldn't be immediately noticeable. The Cruiser was covered in a shimmer of light and then cloaked successfully. He settled back, flipping through the hologram program next. He had at least a few hours to craft himself a design he could use.

It was daylight when he looked back up. The sun was still low in the sky, but above the horizon line, so he figured it was late enough that a visitor wasn't unusual. Some of the cars ahead of him, including the one he'd copied, were already gone so some of the humans had already started their days. He set the hologram on and took a steadying breath. He could do this. It was just a check-in—yes, that's the perfect excuse!—and nothing else.

Skoodge slipped out of the Cruiser and followed his PAK's GPS to the pinging base. It looked like the average house, blending in perfectly with the houses surrounding it. Skoodge was impressed, to say the least, seeing nothing to indicate the house was anything other than just that. He quickly walked up the sidewalk to the front door, trying to make his feet move fast enough that he didn't chicken out, and was rapping his false knuckles on the wood.

It took a moment, but soon the door was opening. Skoodge furrowed his brow a moment. No scan? No ping to his PAK? No security system he could see, either. Either Zim had hidden it all very well, or it was off for some reason. The door creaked open and Skoodge stood frozen. The male alien that he'd seen in the Market video stared back at him. Oh, he was much taller than he'd looked in the video. Skoodge fought down the small amount of intimidation that brought up and smiled.

"Hello! Is Zim home? I'm a … acquaintance," Skoodge said, rapidly and desperately searching his PAK for the right words. He wasn't sure that the word truly described the two, but he could use it. His heartrate had started to increase, and he asked his next question uncertainly.

"From class?"

Skoodge nodded, trying to look confident. He didn't know what class the boy was referring to, but if it got him in the door, he didn't care. Confidence and perseverance were two aspects that lead to successful missions, after all. It worked wonderfully as the boy stepped aside and waved him in.

"Come on in, then. You can take a seat on the couch," he said, motioning to the couch. Skoodge wasted no time in doing so, taking a seat between the cushions and letting his "backpack" rest comfortably between the split of the cushions. The boy shot him a disarming smile and headed for another room. "I'll just be right back."

Dib entered the kitchen, his heart pounding. He doubted he could tell The Computer to warn Zim that some random… someone… was here for him without the possible alien in his living room hearing. He'd almost forgotten what it was like to have a possibly violent alien at his doorstep after so many years. What he knew he could do was grab the water gun from the cabinet.

He pulled a glass out as well, filling both and hoping that his "guest" didn't know how long it took to fill a single glass of water. He tucked the water gun under his jacket, slipping it into the inner pocket, and carried the glass with him. He held it up, carefully watching the guest's reaction.

"Want a glass?" he offered. They looked at it a second too long and shook their head.

"I'm fine, thank you. Is Zim here?"

Dib shot them a strained smile. "Well, can I ask who's asking?"

"…Um…"

"Because you know, I can't just tell someone I don't know where he is. Stranger Danger and all," Dib says, taking a long sip as he neared the couch.

"O-oh, yes, that makes sense!" the other said. Dib sat down beside them, hand leisurely set in his lap, but ready to whip out the water gun should he need it.

"So…?" he prompted.

"Um. Well. So, we had a call a while ago," they say. "He looked sick, so, I got worried and—uh, are you okay?"

Dib was staring at them, mouth agape. He set the glass down on the coffee table with a harsh smack, never breaking eye contact, and his guest leaned away. They were eyeing him up like he'd grown a second head. Dib supposed he looked a little dangerous with how fiercely he was studying their face. The disguise was top notch, but it still hugged the basic facial features well enough. And Dib was certain that no one had managed to hack Zim's computer system to listen in on the one call this alien could be referencing.

He was 90% sure. If he was wrong The Computer would boot them faster than Dib could blink once he gave the word, regardless. He took the chance.

"Skoodge?"

Skoodge blinked at him, dumbfounded. "Uuuuh… you know my name?"

"I mean, I know of you. Zim's talked about you before! You're his friend from the academy, right?" Dib tried, scratching at his cheek. Skoodge perked up at that, giving him a genuine smile. Skoodge wasn't entirely sure what a "friend" was, but if it was just another term for ally, he figured that fit his relationship with Zim quite well.

"Yes! I'm surprised he talked about me. I thought he'd have discussed the labs more," Skoodge admitted. Dib took on a bit of a nervous look at that.

"O-oh, well, I mean, he mentioned you after your last call," he says, shifting in his seat. "I mean, I thought it was sweet."

"Sweet?"

"Irkens don't use that phra… yeah, no, you wouldn't," Dib rationalized. He scrunched his face in concentration. "How do I explain it…"

"You don't have to—"

"Dib, do you think three or four legs—"

Dib's head shot up as Zim entered the living room. He was messing with his tablet, out of his disguise, and stopped just outside the hallway. Skoodge turned to him, staring. There was a beat of silence before one of the lasers raised from the PAK, Zim's antennae flattening. Dib shot up, pushing Skoodge against the couch, hand raised.

"NO WAIT! WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!" he shouted frantically. The laser moved around to shoot around him. "IT'S SKOODGE!"

Skoodge watched, mouth dropping, as the laser of the PAK froze and Zim leveled his gaze at Dib for only a moment. A very brief moment before the laser slipped back into the PAK and his expression relaxed. His shoulders slumped as well, and he looked from Skoodge to Dib and back again, eventually landing on Dib. He was waiting for an explanation, Skoodge realized, but before he could respond Dib was already on it.

As the boy explained as best as he could, Skoodge hadn't given him much information, after all, Skoodge studied the two. Zim was… was he still injured? He wasn't acting as he usually did—or not as Skoodge remembered him the last time they'd been in the same vicinity. He was calmer. Not quite serene—he was never going to reach that height of comfort Skoodge suspected—but he was definitely comfortable in this base with this taller alien. A taller alien that he didn't need to be in disguise to be around. Skoodge's brain paused for a moment.

He didn't need his disguise.

Zim bonked Dib on the head, turning to Skoodge once he had. "You didn't tell me you were coming."

"…No."

"Why?"

"Uh…" Skoodge saw the tension returning to Zim's posture, his shoulders and antennae bristling. He stood, quickly taking his own disguise down, seeing no reason to hide. "I just… you didn't look well."

"…You're checking in on me?" Zim asked slowly. Dib flicked his eyes between them, smartly taking a few steps back. Skoodge looked at him quizzically for a second before focusing back on Zim, knowing full well that the other Irken didn't take kindly to being ignored. "You could have called. Like last time."

"I didn't think you'd answer," Skoodge admits. At Zim's antennae drooping, he hastily added, "I just wanted to check in myself! It's not official business, I'm sorry!"

"Shut up," Zim growled, pinching his brow.

Skoodge smacked his mouth shut so fast he could hear the audible clack of his jaw closing. He could see the irritation underlying the suspicion in Zim's eyes. He was one wrong word from setting him off and he didn't want to end up like one of the other Invader recruits from their Academy days—beat senseless in a sparring match by a feral Irken who they'd pissed off. Zim held grudges. He held grudges for a while. Skoodge hadn't seen him in years. To ruin the first chance he had to visit one of his only acquaintances in the entire Empire—his "friend" as the other alien had called him—would mean at least another decade away from the other Irken before he'd be able to see him again and—

"You're taller than I thought," Skoodge said, sudden and low. Zim stiffened for a moment. His eyes widened minutely and Skoodge smacked his mouth shut again.

"Get out," Zim growled, pointing for the door. Dib huffed at him and Zim's attention snapped away from Skoodge and towards the other boy. Skoodge deflated with a barely contained sigh of relief.

"Seriously? I get to meet another Irken that isn't Tak and you shoo them away immediately?" Dib asks. He pouted at Zim, crossing his arms. Zim's antennae flicked indignantly.

"Are you saying I'm not interesting enough?" he challenged. Dib snorted, the sound putting Skoodge off. It sounded unnatural even to his antennae.

"I'm saying I'm disappointed," Dib countered.

He removed the water gun from his jacket, sauntering to the kitchen doorway just enough to drop it onto the counter. A mechanical hand shot down and snatched it up before Gir could get his hands on it, the little robot diving out from nowhere in an attempt to tackle the gun off the counter. Skoodge watched, dumbstruck, as the robot then tried to chase it around the kitchen. Neither Dib nor Zim seemed to care. Skoodge wondered how often of an occurrence this was.

"—be undisguised outside."

"What?" Skoodge blinked back to himself, tearing his eyes off Gir. Zim narrowed his eyes, one twitching. "Sorry."

"Don't be undisguised outside," Zim repeated slowly.

Skoodge got the feeling that the slow speech was more so he wouldn't scream at him than out of his irritation. Though, that irritation was definitely the cause of the growing anger. Skoodge thanked the Tallest that it was slow building, and not immediate as it used to be. He watched as Dib fought an upturn of his lips, a wobbly smirk, and patted Zim's shoulder. Zim's eyes darted to glare at him. The boy didn't seem able to tell, though. Perhaps the other couldn't see the iris' like he could. Perhaps their own eyes didn't have the color range available.

"I wasn't going to go undisguised, I swear," Skoodge promised. Zim looked back at him. He caught sight of Dib slipping what looked like a much smaller tablet out of his pocket to work on instead.

"Good. Irkens are unknown on this planet. You wouldn't get targeted for being Irken, you'd be targeted for being an alien. Period." Zim informs him. "The windows are modified. This house and that's it. That's where you can be without a disguise."

This planet wasn't alien-associated?! Skoodge thought frantically. He couldn't be happier he'd disguised his ship now that he thought of it. That would have been horrific. He'd have been deactivated for being caught on a planet like this.

"What about the woods?" Dib cut in cheekily. Zim elbowed him harshly in the side. "OW!"

"He's not staying long enough for that," Zim snapped.

"Why not?" Dib asked. He jumped out of the way of a fist from Zim, nonplussed. "Can't he stay for a little bit?"

"Oh, so you can interrogate him, too?"

"What, jealous?" Dib teased. He teased him.

Skoodge had to sit down again, collapsing into the couch. Even as he watched the two bicker, he couldn't wrap his head around it. He sifted through his PAK's memory banks, trying to find an instance to compare it to and coming up empty. Zim didn't banter with just anyone. He'd had one scientist in the labs that he'd gotten even close to doing this with—as close to an acquaintance as Skoodge could consider it outside of himself—and Zim had still threatened them when they argued over experiments. Eventually, Zim sat on the opposite side of the couch, slipping the tablet back into his PAK, and side-eyeing Skoodge. Dib disappeared into the kitchen.

"I'm really not here on any official business," Skoodge repeated, unsure what else to say.

"I don't care," Zim says.

Dib reappeared, three cans in hand. He tossed one to Zim, who caught it without really looking (unnerving even for an Irken), and then held another out to Skoodge. Skoodge looked at it for a moment. The Irken insignia was printed on the front, the writing labeling the soda as a flavor he didn't particularly care for but that tasted good enough, and Dib was holding it out expectantly. Skoodge took it, watching Dib as he fell down between the two Irkens, a soda of his own in hand. It was definitely one from this planet, or perhaps another, as Skoodge didn't recognize the language printed on the can. He looked back at his own can, staring at it. Dib took a long drag from his own before his gaze settled on Skoodge. He hummed, poking Skoodge's shoulder to get his attention again.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"I'm perfectly fine," Skoodge says.

"Because you're just staring at your soda," Dib clarified. He waved his hand at it. "Is it the wrong flavor?"

"No, no! That's not it!" Skoodge said hastily. "I just, um… well, I didn't expect… it's nothing."

"If me getting you a drink without asking makes you speechless you're in worse shape than I thought," Dib says. Zim snorted beside him. The sound had Skoodge turning to him, dumbfounded again.

"Skoodge is just like that."

"Like what? Polite?" Dib asked. Zim shoved his now empty can against the boy's head with a glower. Dib mumbled to him, smirking. "Am I wrong?"

"You're insufferable."

Skoodge cracked his soda open, staring with a growing fascination at the two. He could tell Zim's comment was lacking all the hatred he was used to hearing for such a comment.

Fascinating.