Starfall
Summary:
Zim is different after the tragedy, suffering a depression that Dib can't seem to break. When he disappears one day out of the blue, Dib is left searching for answers.
Disclaimer:
I do not own the IZ characters, this story however is mine.
Dib07: To all you readers out there, welcome to another crazy chapter. I appreciate all reviews, asks, comments! Please be welcome, and I welcome comments on my tumblr account: DarkGunslinger! Well, here we go... (this chapter and all subsequent chapters will be softened for FFN)
K
Omg K your words just stunned me! This was my first time creating a world that was more of a permanent set peice that must meld with the story and not be a prop and I am thrilled/relieved it delivered! (it was way more fun than I feared as I suck at world building, it is not a craft I take to willingly) Yes, Skoodge will shed some light on things OOOooh! I wonder what you'll think? I've never written Skoodge, and well, gotta say, I am kinda lovin' his relationship with Zim en all... (what is happening to me?)
Zimothy
I have never written Skoodge and was never really that bothered with him before, crazy right? This story changed that, and wow. Yeah, Dib needs to break the mould, and fast. This world won't wait. But I fear he's still not fast enough.
Anonymous
Yes, Skoodge is here! XD
Illusions and Ruin
Let me keep what's necessary
For I am not the one who tried
We tried to steal the ordinary
Leaving this old path behind
I wish that I could make you understand
Lonely Boy's Paradise - Noemie Wolfs
'
She sat on the curved horse-shoe shaped horn overlooking the glowing sprawl of city. Vapours of sickly purple rose steadily in their hypnotizing waves. When a distant building went down, spilling sideways or straight down the middle, she'd watch it quietly fall, its departure from glory little more than a ripple in the night.
The twin moons sailed like a pair of discerning eyes as they spread their cold silver across the expanse of a crumbling kingdom.
Leaving the rifle propped against a girder, she hooked the communicator to her antennae and toggled the frequency. There was a spurt of static, more than what she was expecting. Waiting for it to settle, she paused a moment before speaking. "Hey."
The answer was slightly distorted but clear enough to hear his malcontent. "…Hey."
How long have you been asleep?
A ship sailed against the velvet horizon, its gelded bow headed for the stratosphere. She looked up, almost finding herself holding her breath to watch it explode into a miniature supernova as it melted down the middle. Cosmic yellows and golds billowed up before spilling to the world below, the colours arching over her eyes as the debris sailed down like burning angels. In the wake of horror and death, it had turned into something so beautiful.
She could hear him take a breath. Her irregular silences were enough to exasperate him, "Why are you calling?"
"You know it's a felony to question me."
Another heavy sigh. "I hate you." But his voice sounded groggy. Zoltiah groggy.
Her breath steamed in the chilly night air. How's that mask of yours holding up? It's not so indestructible now, is it? "I see your rugrat has ended up here. Bad move on his part. Your incentives to get him to leave didn't work." She paused, giving him time to explain himself, however inauspiciously, but he didn't. "How did he find you anyway? Do you idiots still privately chat to one another?"
Will you tell me what happened?
His thorny silences were usually a result of sulking resignation, but she could never be sure when he was the hardest to read. Emotional and more rash than any soldier should be, his quirks and dark charms were infuriatingly unpredictable. Their military training had only nurtured her envy and hatred when his methods remained too unorthodox to effectively counter.
He was always regarded as strange by his peers, his deviousness seen as a clever way to cover up deeper inadequacies, but Zim was never repentant or baffled by their contempt as if he did not care what they thought. But this only ensured his separation, especially when he tried to rub antennae with the Tallest, and no matter what he tried, whether it was to please his superiors or persist in excellence, he still became the outcast.
Being on Earth for so long had displaced him still further from the rhythm of Irkenkind, his disfigurement the final barrier between him and his fellow peers.
She looked to the horizon, trying to imagine what he was doing, what he was thinking.
Again she was left with his tempered, lingering silences. There was a gulf in place of an Irken whose chaos and imperceptible motives used to attract her once upon a time.
"What will you do if he can't leave?"
She heard him coughing down the line. "He'll f-find a way."
"What if he doesn't want to?" The fumes cleared, unveiling mosaics of faraway galaxies. In the fragile honeycomb of celestial baubles shone the furthest star she could see. Whenever she looked upon it, memories would surface of a time they could never go back to, to never feel again. "Zim." She could hear him take a breath. "Can you see Eurydice from where you are?"
"No." Static fragmented the line, but his answer was still sudden and cold. She decided that it didn't matter. Memories were pointless, unravelling regrets that could cling too tightly, and every so often when moments between the violence were still fleeting, she'd ruminate over these displaced and useless feelings.
Far below in the heady neon, she could see his domicile squatting amongst the other buildings. There were two little oval windows, both of which glowed crimson, but there was no movement from inside.
She drew the communicator line closer against her antenna, fighting to hear his signal through the crackling static. "What will you do, Zim?"
She swore she heard the faintest sound, but it could have just been the line.
When she heard that sudden click of Zim disconnecting, Tak roughly unhooked the communicator and retrieved her rifle. As much as she wanted to teleport into the domicile to punch him until he more lucid with his words, she had to work.
Poised on the railings, she shifted the butt of the gun under her arm and darted down a junction between the rooftops high above the greasy streets.
-x-
"How long are you going to keep doing this for, Dib?"
I really don't know, Zim. You'd think I would have worked that out by now.
Memories still hurt. Time had a funny way with grief. Just when you thought you were over it, moments long gone would smack you over the head and leave you in tatters.
It was easier to be angry with his father and his distant stoic demeanour, and to hate Zim for his shortcomings and ignorance. They were stupid for all their wisdoms and struggles when abandonment came naturally to them. Solitude and loneliness had been such a big part of his life already, what difference had they really made?
Zim's desertion and his father's death felt like one and the same.
He thought he'd seen something in Zim's cosmic eyes, a mirrored loneliness, an understanding yet to be spoken.
"Dib...?" Skoodge turned round, seeing that he had jerked to a halt.
Dib reluctantly lifted his head, eyes clearing when he looked at a beckoning stranger in a hi-tech utopia that was more wasteland than metropolis. He wasn't sure who to trust. This 'Skoodge' could be leading him anywhere. Just hear him out. Give him a chance to explain things... and then... then I'll leave.
When he stepped forwards he saw the soldier from earlier leaning against a sign post, watching from deep-set eyes of discerning scarlet. He made no effort to hide himself, and tossed what looked like a pink gem up into the air before lazily catching it again. He was in that red knighthood uniform of high elbow sleeves with a trench coat skirting his ankles.
Keeping his head down, knowing he didn't have much of a choice, Dib joined Skoodge, and together they walked through the district.
The 'diner' was warm, with delicious smells wafting from food that seemed variably normal. Food was served on shiny crystal-like chalices that looked incredibly delicate. The foodstuff itself was more of that blue, green fruit with blood-red cherry cubes alongside hearty helpings of syrup and cream. More of it kept coming, served steaming cold or steaming hot. As he peered at the nectar-concentrated diabetic-inducing cocktails that smelt part chemical, Skoodge was diving into it with gusto as if he hadn't eaten in days, and he didn't exactly look malnourished. Zim was a walking skeleton by comparison.
"Would you like some?" Skoodge would burp between slurps and gulps.
Dib watched, aghast, despite his stomach burbling and growling. He went to pick out one of the Irken shaped purple biscuits from an elaborately shaped flower-chalice. After the first bite it tasted pretty good, even comforting, but after that it got sickly, really fast. It's just synthesized sugar... He realized, disappointed. Meat is what I could really go for... pork pies, salami, and maybe some cheese and bread...
He was only lying to himself. His appetite was a crumpled mess of twisting, knotted horrors. He could not sit back and fill his belly when he hadn't long ago held a corpse, with that hissing, steaming monster of a machine randomly popping into his thoughts. He smelt of the filth outside, the sleeves of his jacket and bottoms of his pants stained in oil and plasma residue.
"Try this!" Skoodge plonked a thimble of something smoking into his chest. It was so bright it looked like it had come from the miasmic flames of hell.
"It's not gonna kill me, is it?" He gave him a patented frown, hoping the Irken would realize sooner rather than later that he might suffer a negative reaction as Zim reacted to humdrum meat.
"What?" Skoodge gave him that perplexed look of the innocent, and Dib was determined not to be deceived by it. "No, no! You'll like it!"
"Suure." He obviously looked famished, because Skoodge kept pushing more plates and dishes and chalices towards him.
Dib hoped Skoodge was being charitable, and would not later charge him for all the food.
Plucking up the courage, the 'thimble' of hazy liquid was practically nectar in a bottle, the syrup-blended concoction tasting almost like toffee liquor, only four times sicklier.
"Ugh..." He put it down after one timorous swallow. The alcohol hit him two seconds later like a club to the back of his head. "Jesus, how do you guys drink this?"
To purge the taste from his mouth, he filled his spoon from a chalice stuffed with ice-cube things containing bizarre berries wedged with ribbons of pink cream, which instantly made him feel even sicker. He couldn't deny that it had obliterated his appetite, not so much his hunger, and decided he'd later return to the ship and go back to eating out of cereal boxes.
Gingerly he rubbed his leg beneath the fabric, feeling the sting of Zim's latest rebuttal. Insect bite cream worked a charm after he'd been sliced up after a match, and he sure as hell hoped he'd packed some.
"You really travelled all that way?" Skoodge seemed strangely and bizarrely deferential, with a smile that couldn't have been any more wholesome as if Dib was something of a celebrity. He also seemed to know that 'Earth' was quite a distance to travel, leaving him wondering just how much the old Elite had given away. "Zim's such a lucky guy..."
He wasn't sure he agreed. "Are you two like... roommates or something?"
"You could say that!" His easy smile stopped cold as if someone had wiped it away.
Dib waited for the Irken to elaborate a little more, not that it would soften the spiking jealously, but Skoodge seemed perfectly content with the food and his company. He slurped and glurped, not seeming to care that his crimson uniform was getting smeared with cream and fruit juices. The human watched, not meaning to be rude. He had just never seen an Irken actually 'enjoy' food before.
"So, this domicile you two share… is it more of a home or an office?"
Again Skoodge was frustratingly enigmatic. "Urm, both I guess? It was very… urm… circumstantial."
Dib was expecting a flash of telling malevolence beneath the surface: the beast veiled under restraint whenever an Irken showed his teeth or lifted his lips, and even though this was not so with Skoodge, he was still prepared to see the anger that all Irkens seemed to carry, regardless of how much more relaxed he appeared than the rest.
Some of the chalices became really thin towards the bottom, not even a spoon could help him out, and when he was just about to question the design of the thing, he watched Skoodge's pink tongue dart down the thimble-narrow chalice, making Dib think of a butterfly's tongue dipping into the throats of flowers to drink their nectar.
Moreover, he figured the real reason this squat Irken wasn't revealing much was because the human was quite the enigma himself. He hadn't given Skoodge the reasons why he and Zim meant anything to each other, let alone why he would happily traverse galaxies to find him. There was definitely something he could sense from Skoodge: a tension perhaps, a certain watchfulness, but he wasn't so sure.
As he looked around, trying to establish his surroundings and being careful not to stare too long at any one Irken, he wondered at their gender, and if the females looked more or less like the males. So far as he had seen, they were all males. Tak had been his only other acquaintance when it came to the species, and she had proven that females looked different, however marginal. So were females a rarity? And if so, why?
He also noticed humped Irkens picking up litter and food, scuttling around in stooped, bent-back postures with what appeared to be little square tables on their backs. They looked sickly, some of them pausing between duties to catch their breath, only to be ordered to go back to work by those surveying them.
Dib fidgeted a little, about to ask why Zim wasn't in uniform when the whole place suddenly went dark. He gasped for air, eyes wildly trying to pick out shapes when all he could see were dozens of glowing PAKs and coloured eyes with the dangerous gleam of their guns not far from hooked claws.
"Hey, it's okay!" Skoodge's unusually calm voice managed to keep Dib from lunging wildly out of his seat. "It's just a power cut."
"P-Power cut?"
"Yeah. We have 'em all the time now. It's a bit of a headache really. If it wasn't for workers like Zim, I don't think we'd get any power at all." Before he had even barely finished his sentence the lights came on again, suddenly the diner was back to that warm backlit glow, and the Irkens continued drinking and coughing as if the 'blackout' hadn't even occurred.
Dib spun his head around, dumbstruck, expecting something to come and attack him. Though everything carried on as normal, his guard was way up.
"Hey, can I ask you something?" Skoodge kept looking admiringly up at him with that same awe, "Are all humans as... tall as you?"
He thought he was remarkably average for his stature, but he nodded, struggling to take his eyes off the table drones and nearby guards. "So," he coughed uncomfortably, "what's with Zim? Why isn't he in uniform, and why is he even here?"
"He got reassigned." Skoodge put simply as if that was all there was to tell. "He was stripped of his decoration. He works as a mechanic now."
"What..?" Either the sudden news or the meal made him feel ill. "But... but... why!"
Skoodge paused to lick cream off his fingers. He was never in a hurry, and seemed to be in a different speed to everyone else, but it was his nonchalance that started to unnerve the human. "It's not up to me to say, it's a really touchy subject for him. You'll be lucky to get one word in before he knocks your head off."
His antennae kept adjusting as if he was listening to distant music. It was distracting.
Dib drew back in the chair, looking at his plate of jellified tarts, cubes or whatever they were supposed to be. "He can still go home, to Earth, right?"
"Not until he serves his term."
His heart continued to sink. "How long's that for?"
"I don't know, I'm sorry Dib." And he seemed to sound like he meant it. His eyes, as large as most others, seemed to reflect deeper feeling not so hidden or locked away.
Dib folded his arms against his chest. He'd hoped that once some answers started coming in, it would dial down the anger a little bit, and give him the closure he needed, but Skoodge was unwittingly stoking the fires again. "When I got here... when I saw him, I thought he'd be relieved to see me... Why couldn't he just tell me?! I left my sister behind... I left everything behind... And he just… he just fucking ran away! I wish… I wish I had never even tried!"
The Irken paused a moment as if searching for the right words. "An Irken's honour is everything, Dib. He might not have wanted you to see him this way..."
"Like being in rags is gonna change the way I see him!"
Skoodge nodded understandably, seemingly unsurprised at the human's anger.
I suppose being around your own raging kind desensitizes you after awhile...
He tried to stay cool but it was hard to so much as breathe when his heart was thumping like a rampant war drum. "So he's a mechanic now?" He spread his hands, trying to be analytical and treat the problem as he would analyze a broken engine. Get to the bottom of it, work your way through the details... it'll allow you to see the bigger picture, as dad always said... "So what's he doing sweeping the floor, playing card games and trading his tokens for... for this zoltiah? What even is zoltiah?"
The Irken was starting to look less comfortable. "He used up all his tokens?"
"Yeah. Well, half of them were stolen after he won... Guess the other Irkens saw an opportunity and hen-pecked him." And he shrugged. He didn't know what the hell was going on, and he was annoyed that Skoodge was the one looking fucking confused.
The rotund Irken ran a gloved hand down the side of his head. "He was supposed to buy food with those tokens."
"Why does he need tokens to 'buy' anything? Don't you guys just get whatever you need by pushing a fucking button?"
Skoodge remained amazingly calm despite the fire in Dib's eyes, "It's not that straightforward. Our currency system is heavily regulated. Based on our behaviour and records, we earn credits. Some workers get by using alternative methods."
"What the hell kind of system is that? Alternative methods? What does that even mean?"
Skoodge winced. "Please keep your voice down!"
To keep his hands from shaking he picked up the glowing thimble and took a sip. The alcohol must have settled at the bottom, because it tasted even worse. "Are you telling me he doesn't earn enough?"
"Earnings go up and down. Being a mechanic is not as steady as soldier's pay when it can all depend on what needs fixing." He looked inwards a moment. "And he doesn't always toe the line..."
"Right..." He numbly nodded, boiling anyway, not always listening.
"You have to understand... it's not just what happened to Zim, but what he did... what we all had to do..."
"Let me guess, kill innocent creatures? Storm a planet without throwing down the welcome mat first?"
Skoodge looked appalled. Dib felt sorry he'd said anything.
The betrayal grew, a knife digging deeper through the ribs.
There's no point in staying. I've got to get back to Gaz... Gir can stay if he wants, I don't care anymore.
He'd about made his mind up. He'd burrow some tools and do the ship repair work himself, or get this Skoodge to take a look. He wanted out, fast. He was less certain with what to do with a damaged Gir, and with Zim seeming to have no care or interest made his rage spike to something closer to hatred.
Dib went back to watching the stooped-over table drones in their greasy clothing and stained garb. They looked so exhausted.
"Your eyes." Skoodge said gently, smiling that soft, undemanding smile. "They screw up when you're thinking."
Well, yours look like magma about to spill...
His voice cracked. "Zim obviously doesn't care that I'm here. I'm leaving as soon as my ship repairs are done... Stupid guards left it damaged..."
"No, no, you should see him." He said with quiet urgency, "It's just... it's complicated..."
"What's so 'complicated' about it?" He snapped, feeling the muscles tighten in his throat and chest. "He's as mindless and as evil as the rest of..." He was about to say 'all of you' and stopped short. The alcohol had gone to his head, and his anger and bitterness was thickening like storm clouds set to burst, but it was Skoodge's childlike look of hurt that stopped him.
Lumping him with all the rest wasn't right when he didn't know him.
Skoodge asked the question he'd been dreading. "Why did you come all the way here, Dib of Earth?"
Because I'm stupid.
He paused, considering his words, hoping it would be enough to persuade the Irken. "Closure, I guess. He just up and disappeared one day, and I thought he might…" He shook his head. It felt so dumb saying it out loud.
"Closure?" Skoodge looked unsatisfied with his answer.
He shifted uncomfortably. Skoodge was looking at him like an x-ray device scanning him for inconsistencies. He slowly realized how careful he needed to be. He did not know Skoodge's skill set, what he was good at, what his kill count was, and if he was probing him for information.
"Hey, what's with these guys?" And he thumbed one of the passing table drones. "When do they get a break?"
"They don't get a break, Dib."
His lips crinkled in a weak 'you're joking' smile. "What do you mean?"
"Having breaks between shifts is… well…" His short antennae lifted, eyes squinting as if he wasn't very good at explaining this to outsiders, "…a luxury. Not every Irken can afford to take any time off."
"Even to… rest? Eat?"
"Usually it's on the go, and the resting part… well that can be illegal."
He didn't know what to say. He leaned back in his little chair, feeling awful. The next time a drone scuttled past, he offered the food on his plate that he hadn't the stomach for. The drone stopped to take it, most likely to 'remove the no-longer-wanted food.'
"Here. It's yours. You can have it." Dib offered, weakly smiling to instil some kind of reassurance. The drone warily took the plate, nodded, and proceeded to dump the food in the nearest waste disposal unit.
"Please, don't be offended." Skoodge said when he saw the direction of Dib's downtrodden gaze. "If they're caught taking food they didn't buy or earn, there's a heavy penalty."
"Jesus…" He turned away, rubbing a nervous hand through his fraying scythe. "But you're offering me food."
"Soldiers have privileges, Dib, allowing for leniencies here and there, and you aren't Irken…."
"Okay, so if Zim can't afford food," and he nodded at the plates and half eaten dishes between them, "why can't you share with him?"
"That's not allowed."
He chuckled, rolling his eyes, thinking: this is so ridiculous, "What's the punishment for taking a crumb that's not yours?"
"You get your points deducted. No pay, no wages. After the first penalty, the officer usually dictates the punishment."
"Is this happening everywhere?"
Skoodge looked incredibly patient for someone who was aware of how the system worked. "Yes, Dib."
"But it's… it's wrong!"
Skoodge just stared blankly.
This was getting just a little bit scary. He was aware he was talking to a soldier; Skoodge wore the damn uniform, and no doubt packed enough weapons to annihilate a house. The only reason the Irken was fraternizing with him was because of Zim, and he had this uneasy feeling. He wasn't sure if it was the deeper glow in Skoodge's eyes, or that careful way he looked at him as if he was trying to read the human's thoughts.
He tried to breathe. He drank the rest of what was in that tiny bottle. Concentrate, Dib. You're in a place that's beyond you. You're here for Zim. Stay on topic!
He couldn't get more involved in anything else. The less he knew about this place and their hideous society, the better.
"So. I'm guessing you went to this... Elysium place..." Zim shattered down the middle, and the pieces went flying everywhere, so why do you still look sane?
The reluctance was suddenly there, and his heavy scrutiny flickered to someplace else.
Dib followed his gaze, not sure what was spooking him. The other customers looked no more aware of them than before. They were either lazing near what appeared to be an ice-cream counter, or drinking from smoking chalices in their respective booths. There were the stares: crimson flashes of cold eyes and teeth aimed their way, but they weren't coming over to challenge them. Maybe Skoodge would be pulled over later and questioned for having an 'alien' for company, and maybe he wouldn't.
Skoodge shook his head a few times as if to relieve himself of a headache. "Let's get that ship looked at first thing tomorrow. How 'bout it?"
You're changing the topic. "Thanks. I don't want to get stuck here."
Maybe it was the way Irkens worked, part trickery, part lifestyle, or if it was simply their defensive nature. He knew Skoodge was deflecting him, maybe self-consciously or otherwise. Whatever he asked was quickly overturned, with Skoodge distracting him with something else.
Part of him wanted to keep distant from Skoodge, from all of them; there was too much to absorb, too much horror, life here had its own topsy-turvy chaos that human life couldn't compare, let alone understand, but the more he found out, and the more he uncovered, he was beginning to reveal a picture that wasn't particularly pretty.
"Your... uh... ship? You said you... urm... burrowed it?" Skoodge asked with uncertainty as if he had social anxiety or something.
Dib shrugged. "I burrowed it from Tak. She never came back for it. Is she... around?" I've about had my fill of murderous hate-filled Irkens for today...
"She... she comes and goes." But his face suddenly looked pained as if he had just stepped on a nail.
"She's... alive?" His eyes tightened behind the frames of his glasses.
Again Skoodge nodded as if this gesture was far simpler than words could express. "Look, urm..." He looked around, but so far as Dib could tell no one seemed interested in them or what they were discussing. "Zim has this routine... he'll be leaving the domicile soon, and that's when you'll need to follow him... if you still want to..."
"And what? Stalk him while he does his mechanical things?" He leaned back unhappily.
He could see the pain in the stranger's eyes, but Skoodge still would not say why.
The human tiredly accepted the hopelessness of his company and enjoyed a second round of the bitter and rancid concoction. He felt drunk enough not to care.
They headed out into greasy streams of carnival lights pulverising the night. Zips of purple and red would dart through the sky as ships flew by overhead. It was hard to see the stars, the light pollution barely allowing him to see the towering, massive rings cradling the planet.
He decided he hated this place. Earth, for all its failings, was becoming more of a paradise with every second that he spent here.
Maybe Irkens were so wrapped up in power and superiority that served as perfect compliments to their psychotic nature that they simply chose to ignore the misery going on around them.
If I was suddenly killed out here, would anyone stop to notice?
Skoodge started off in another direction, beckoning him to follow. Dib staggered where he stood, a hand on his stomach, the other on the post, willing the food he had nibbled at to stay inside him.
A new level of fear gripped him tighter. What if Skoodge was putting on an act? What if he was Zim's superior, and was keeping the nymph locked in that apartment building?
I need to get back to the ship! Gotta grab Gir, and do this some other way! I can't die here!
But when Skoodge turned to him, those bulbous eyes a deep and warm red, his voice remained as calm and cordial as it had been in the diner. "It's okay. I'm taking you to our domicile. Zim should be waking soon."
How am I supposed to believe you? "What is he to you? Your peon?"
Skoodge mildly shook his head. "Not in the domicile."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I have no reason to hurt you, Dib from Earth," he quietly said, "It's just this way." The rotund Irken turned around and started walking again.
Dib shakily stood where he was a few seconds longer, trying to work his frozen hand off the knife's handle.
I can't read him. Zim, what is happening? You've got to help me.
Dib warily began to follow, feeling deeply chilled despite the balmy temperature in the air. He felt sick. Tired. Lost. With nowhere else to go. The only thing keeping him moving was that stupid nymph.
Skoodge stopped, turned and waited like someone with good intentions. It was pointless trying to read what was in those eyes, what was in that smile.
"We're all mad here." Said the Cheshire cat.
Gotta keep it together… can't fall to pieces!
Talking was good. It sounded like bullshit, but his therapist always preached about how good 'talking' was. It automatically lowered anxiety, and helped your brain tune out the extremities of pain and fear. It might also help to weasel out information, and lure an enemy to sympathise with him. "H-How's his arm, Skoodge?" His words came out as grated, reluctant grunts as he tried to keep his mind shut from what he'd seen.
"Oh. That." He said with some hesitancy. "It's… uh… another prickly subject for him unless he's in a really good mood. The build, the actual composition… it's not like anything I've seen…"
"That's because it's custom made. I built it." He looked to the purplish heavens, the isolation a weight in his chest. It basically turned his disability into a super power.
Skoodge turned to him, his movements so quick that Dib recoiled and hit the back of his ankle in detritus. "You?"
His question made Dib feel greatly uncomfortable. He might have glowed if it had been another human showing him any recognition, and it had to be alien after everything. "Y-yes."
"He never said how he got the bionic arm."
Dib cocked his head slightly, thinking it was just a little bit strange. Didn't Skoodge and Zim fucking 'talk' to each other?
The isolation grew wider.
But Skoodge was already asking the next question like an overly eager kid in class. "What's it like to have metal crafted into your muscles and bone like that? Wouldn't the cold affect the connective tissue? And how would it involve the PAK? Our cybernetic PAK hates foreign material, like implants for instance. It usually attacks anything that the PAK can't register and can't link up to..."
Dib felt himself slowly warming to the Irken's curiosity. "…Treating it as though it were a disease or a virus... sending the host into shock." He said. "You're quite well informed." But he wasn't sure he knew what more to say if Skoodge kept on digging.
"Yes, urm, well," and the soldier blushed nervously, "I like discovering how things work. I wish he'd let me have a peek... I am really glad y-you made it for him…"
Dib timidly smiled at the flattery despite himself, realizing that all three of them were diehard mechanics at heart. "Do you know how he lost it?"
Skoodge turned around suddenly; the human could no longer see his expression or what it might have suggested. "Let's keep going." When he continued walking his steps seemed more exaggerated.
Dib kept to a healthy distance behind him, shaky hands wedged in his pockets.
Skoodge was a hard one to read. He seemed jovial enough, and considerate on the outside, and maybe he was genuine, but Dib wouldn't fall for it, especially when his deference and esteem could be a mask. Zim wore one, so it was likely other Irkens also put on an act. He could not forget that Skoodge wore the uniform of the soldier, and must have been posted at various planets and stations to enslave or destroy other species, but keeping his distance from Skoodge would prove difficult when he had no one else to rely on.
He looked to the sky, watching interstellar ships come and go in silver or purple flashes. "I don't think Zim ever forgave me."
Skoodge looked to him, his antennae lifting. His voice was soft. "For what?"
"For amputating his arm. The shock of it nearly killed him." He looked back down at the widening lane of street. "We had to cut into healthy tissue in the hopes the infection wouldn't spread."
"You saved his life." He sounded deferential, perhaps even a little sad.
I mean, who would want to save the enemy that invaded Earth, right?
"He doesn't think so." He had begun to relax just long enough to spare the act of 'hunter,' and was less neurotic about having to keep glancing over his shoulder every two seconds to see who was following. "The way he sees it, it's better to perish than to live mutilated."
Skoodge didn't reply. He seemed wrapped up in his own world.
He thought again of the table drone, and a world where you weren't allowed a fifteen minute tea break. He suspected that all Irkens were obsessive workers, continually being called from one post to the next without having much time to talk or to really know one another. Like people working in offices, they were stuck in their own cubicles, briefly walking past one another whenever they fleetingly left their little alcoves.
"The collar he wears?" He tried from another angle, "Why don't you have one?"
"Urm... you'd better not mention that to him either, Dib."
"What? Why? What can I ask for god's sake?" He braked to a halt, sweat rolling off his temples, shivering more from shock and nervous tension than cold.
Skoodge stopped too, sadly realizing there was no other alternative but to tell him what truths he could spare. "He was sentenced before the Court Divine... they put the collar on him as punishment. It... it sends an EMP to his PAK if he doesn't do as he's told."
"What?" His bark echoed abrasively across the street.
"Keep going! They're watching!"
Dib paused to see two pairs of lava-red eyes glare at him from across the speedway. The soldier stood at ease, but his shiny, smooth face betraying the slightest tension as he gently rested a claw on his gunbelt. There were cameras too; he had been so blighted with things new and alien that he had failed to see them. They glittered back, much like the eyes of the Irkens, swivelling and turning in their sockets from buildings, signs and even from various platforms like some plague that had taken root.
They walked on, Dib shaking his head with his nails digging into the palms of his hands. Skoodge's strained silences were beginning to bother him. "So let's say he serves his 'term.' Does that mean they'll take the collar off? Let him go?"
Skoodge shook his head.
"Isn't the PAK protected against electromagnetic pulses? What would it do to him if it stopped his life support? He'd still get the usual ten minutes, right?"
Skoodge's nervous look returned, and Dib bit his lip, wishing he hadn't mentioned the 'ten minute' thing. Fortunately, the Irken focused on his question, but the human could tell that he was rattled. "Not if the current can pass through his spinal column. That access point is more vulnerable... but I shouldn't be telling you this..." He ended sorely.
Gaudy neon signs painted their profiles in every colour of the rainbow as they went, with shimmering swills of oil dabbled here and there along the metal pathways. He supposed this side of the district had similarities with Las Vegas, but without the shuttling ships, the insertion pipes and the giant shadowing rings.
He wondered why such strict measurements had been placed on Zim, remembering the way he scratched and fiddled with the collar as he played the 'poker game.' "Well, if the collar isn't a tracking device…"
Skoodge's eyes narrowed suddenly, half his face caught in shadow. "We already have a tracking device in our PAK. They're standard issue."
Dib stared back, revolted and awed at the same time. Was Skoodge telling the truth, or was he just stringing him along? "Why didn't Zim stay on Earth, instead of returning just to get punished?"
"When he's called to answer for what he did, and he doesn't show, his PAK is turned off."
"That can happen?" It was perverse that the PAK could be easily turned off as simply as a light switch. This answer however brought darker displacements and ramifications to the fore.
He knew… for how long I don't know… but he never told me… Why?
The sad metal domicile drew closer in the haze.
"I don't think you should stay long... Will you be able to find your way back to Gir?" Skoodge was saying, pointing vaguely in the direction of huddled spires and buildings that looked like they had been wrestled together with rope to keep them from falling over.
"What, I can't snuggle between the two of you?" He teased, voice helplessly harsh and sardonic, only to see the blush creep along the Irken's face. It didn't take much to make the soldier conscientious.
"We-we o-only have one bunk bed..." Skoodge stammered, "You can... you have mine. I don't sleep very often... Once a fortnight is all I n-need, but I really don't think you'll fit..."
"Let me guess. The old coot took the top bunk and you were left with the bottom?" Dib could only imagine what it was like living with a bastard like Zim, but the creeping envy was there all the same.
Skoodge only smiled nervously, rubbing the back of his right antenna like a human might scratch the back of their neck.
How are you so damn nice? It's got to be an act. Yet you get all fidgety whenever we talk about Zim.
"Look," Dib said, trying to stay focused, "I'm worried about Gir. Could you bring him here after your shift or whatever? He really shouldn't be on his own, and it would be safer if you retrieved him. I don't fancy getting mobbed by crazed Irkens when they realize that S.I.R unit isn't mine."
"Will do." Skoodge said with a weaker smile.
Dib stopped again on the curb of the last speedway before their shack for a house. "You should know... Gir's damaged..."
Skoodge stood quietly, his eyes shiny and pale. "I know..." He said at length.
"Skoodge, what can you tell me about Elysium?"
The door of the building suddenly smacked open, and though they were still a fair distance away, they watched a willowy Irken step into the light. Dib blinked. The disgraced Elite was hardly recognisable from the creature in rags. He wore white boots and white gloves, his soft pastel uniform more of a creamy purple, the flowing white collar going over his shoulders and collarbone, though it did nothing but accentuate the metal collar hugging his neck. The top segment at his chest was a darker crimson that gradually faded towards the skirt of his tunic, and the sleeves helped hide the robotic arm.
But it was the red scarf that really grabbed his attention. Too large to suitably go round so small a neck, Zim had chosen to cinch it round his waist like a sash.
He kept it, all this time...
"S-Sorry, gotta go..." Dib started after him when Skoodge suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm.
"Watch yourself, especially from Strider. He's the soldier that's been tailing you."
"What do you mean?"
"He keeps tabs on Zim, and reports back to the Tallest. Just be..."
"I'll take care of myself." He pulled away from Skoodge, unable to trust in his advice.
Zim walked with that same purposeful stride, hardly seeing anything around him save the path ahead. He walked differently too. His chin was held higher, shoulders more evenly aligned, but it looked like it took effort to keep them up. At his belt the little blue potion flashed to his stride like sapphire starlight.
Grabbing what information he could from Skoodge didn't ease that pain, or shake the dissonance when Zim wouldn't speak to him. Dib had lost parts of his life he would never get back, and Zim was walking away with another part he would lose forever.
Dib splashed through black puddles, the words echoing, "You're just a child, Dib stink" as Zim's gaunt little figure grew smaller, his profile slowly drifting ahead, with Skoodge's lasting words chasing after him. "It's just... it's complicated..."
Arms heavily swinging to and fro with his strides, he soon noticed the 'red' soldier also on the move. He had no need to hide his intentions, and followed from behind; chewing on what appeared to be a stick of pink rock candy.
The dirt-encrusted district dropped away, and he was eventually surrounded by white buildings with strange claw-like steeples carving around girders and sides. The lanes were scrupulously clean, and the air seemed cleaner, clearer, without the pernicious haze coating everything in asphyxiating poison.
Zim walked further into this luxuriant Eden, but his movements were slower, as if he had stones in his boots.
He was headed for some kind of Bastian or fortress that was gelded in purple, the walls so white that they reflected the colours of the sky. Giant steeples of black glass or obsidian stood like rising swords hoping to penetrate the distant orbital rings.
Keeping his distance, knowing that Zim's hearing wasn't the greatest while making sure he had somewhere to hide should the old bastard happen to turn round, he wondered how mad the grouch would be if he discovered him following.
Passing arching gates, Zim stopped by the castle's walls, and showed the first hints of hesitation. His head seemed to droop forwards, antennae whisking down to his shoulders. Stationed beside him in the grounds were beautiful torpedo shaped two-manned ships with fanning tailfins curved towards the stern. But a second look determined heavy plasma damage to the cockpits and engines, rendering them useless. Zim gazed wearily amongst them, as if he was looking for something.
Now was the time to corner him.
With Dib's patience growing thinner, he was about to walk under the arching gates when the elaborate doors to the bastion burst open, and a ludicrously tall Irken dressed in a long two-toned crimson dress came swanning (or rather gliding) down the steps as if his feet didn't quite touch the stairs. He had an elongated, sloping head with incredibly long antennae that hung from the back of his head like a pair of washing lines and his eyes were carnal stars, with a Cheshire cat smile sweeping across a narrow face.
In stake-like claws for a hand he held a crystal chalice.
Wait, I've seen him before! That's Tallest Red! What's he doing here?
Praying he wasn't noticed he almost fell over to get away in time. Breathing heavily, he pressed his back against a spirally gate-post to stay out of sight.
"Zim!" Red's voice was domineering, his dress and height a clear depiction of complete authority. "Get inside!" Zim raised himself to his full height and reluctantly left the broken ships to have Red sweeping round behind him. "Tsk, tsk, you're late! Any later and..."
The heavy gate-like doors swung closed, the pink light from within eclipsing the moment. Dib peered round from the spiralling wall. Silhouettes, moving figures and shadows would pass fleetingly through the opaque purple glass windows within, but he couldn't make sense of what was going on inside.
He stood up, wanting to see if he could locate Zim through the windows, and roamed about the perimeters. A few Irkens stood at interactional alcoves smoking some purple substance from pipe-like things. The way they were dressed made him think of the Zulara guards with their long furling capes and tall collars, but despite their flashy uniforms, the menace of the weapons they carried were very real. Rivets of purple glittered down long, black nozzles or spouts, and they almost looked like the plastic blasters you'd get at a carnival.
The guards spoke and lounged, not looking particularly vigilant. Most were coughing, and one guard kept scratching at a particularly nasty purple stain on his chin until it was profusely bleeding.
The night sky was a strange, sickly veil of purple that hung, suspended, like city fumes. The stars were next to impossible to see through this mist, especially when advertising slogans and vivid neon signatures pretty much engulfed everything with psychedelic radiation.
Refusing to give up and leave, he settled himself down by a wall in shadow. The minute hand on his wristwatch slowly ticked as he surveyed the temple-like structure of the Bastian.
Few Irkens trawled the night. They came and went like moths flittering from one attractive joint to the next before drifting on again, but he was not deluded by the gimmicks that helped to serve the illusion hiding the filth and disease slowly spreading through the city, and the Irkens. There was something terribly wrong with this place, and he wondered if it had always been this way.
The obvious poverty broke his every belief and procured fantasy. He had imagined that aliens would have scrupulously clean streets, the highest tech ships, and that no one went hungry, no one got sick, and he knew now what a fallacy that was to believe in. Extremities would always exist on the backs of the poor, the hungry and the desperate, with those who plotted another's providence, and if 'height' and rank was the establishment, then wages and wealth reflected that.
What Skoodge had said about soldiers having some privileges than most others seemed to hold true, enticing Irkens to join the military service, assuming they had the choice.
'Strider' stopped to adjust his boot on a ledge before scuffing off whatever dirt had soiled it.
Dib sat with his back against the smooth, rubbery wall, praying the shadows would hide him. He was starting to get the bone-chilling feeling that he was up against a hunter, a real hunter.
A choked feeling came over him; he was way out of his depth in some forsaken hell that would just as quickly devour him, leaving nothing left to ever say that he had been here.
He had never felt so childish in thinking that it had been a good idea to follow Zim, and to ever think there was a single thing he could control.
Dib07: I am sorry for the lack of Zim in this chapter, but don't worry, they'll be plenty of him next update! Though I will warn you that chapter 7's FFN version will be heavily edited and softened, however, the Archive update won't be. Your preference, your choice! ^^