Don't Leave Me

by AndyH

Gaz is a solo-gamer who needs a team partner to compete in a national video game competition, but doesn't think much of the humans around her. Neither does Zim, a solo-invader. And how will they manage all that happens after? An eventual ZAGR piece, but it won't happen the way you think it will. It wouldn't be IZ unless something went haywire. Will build up slowly. A 1st Fanfic.

29. Chapter 27

A/N: Once again thanks to all the reviewers: BlackBaccaraRose, golddragonriderkira, fray 100, wolfmoonshadow, kyoshibluefire, coldblue, Zekiev Clayton-Zolnerowich, Zerg170, MajorDarkblade, evolved-angel, The Super Saiyan Fox, darkangelthefallen, labreck01, CrewSoulReaper, CatGirlFireflare, and InvaderCurlyFries.

Coldblue: I agree with both sides of what you mentioned about threats to Irken power. There are many real world examples of responses, and most are plausible on the Irken side. There is the 'Do something about this threat' response. But I think this would be minimal as Zim has been continuously discredited for years, so any who would look up to him must have the brainworms. Then there is the perception that he can only be a failure.

Then there is the 'We didn't want them anyway, so good riddance' response. This is a more probable response as smallests are seen as having no real value and anyone who wanted to work for Zim and his alien bondmate is surely defective. Thus better let them quarantine themselves far, far away and let it be someone else's problem.

My personal favorite is the 'Let them eat cake' response that is often a reference back to the French Revolution. I think this fits best as Tallers and Tallests seem completely self-centered and clueless as to the real condition of their society in the lower 'classes.' That could change in later years IF there is a massive emigration of Irken smallests.

I get your response as to Tak's decision regarding Dib's lifespan. Many are going "NOOOOOOO!" After writing that, I started thinking a lot about the movie 'Old Yeller.' Tak would not want to go out like that, so her decision is sad but sound. You are correct in what Dib would want to do about extending his lifespan for Tak's sake. Fray and I have been exchanging PM's (I think we're up to 300 now, Lol) about various ideas for his story, including this topic. It is a surprising challenge to come up with something that is plausible without going into the realm of pure fantasy (which may be ironic as this is a work of fiction). I'm sure Dib will come up with something, but not now. They are just starting their lives with a baby on the way, a marriage to build up on, and Dib is still developing into full adulthood. They have plenty of time to work it out, and many 'solutions' would be incredibly dangerous without extreme safeguards or could mess up his development at Dib's present age.

So for all those going "NOOOOOOO!" Aging suppression is a horrendously complex research topic. I'm not happy with the answer's foundation, but there is a foundation to be laid. It would take a decade or so to develop a safe treatment so there would not be a massive plague, melt Earth's surface and wipe out humanity or cause massive tumors, ect. That is probably beyond the scope of this story, so I will just say that Dib and Tak do indeed live a longer life. Part of writing is letting the reader's imagination fill in the blanks.

NOTE: Fray has given permission and asked me to introduce some of his characters from his parallel story. I have been hesitant to do so as his story is still very early in developing. They may have involvement here, but on a very limited basis. As they are his characters to develop in his own parallel story, I do not have the right nor would it be fair to set a foundation here as to how they are portrayed. So it is necessary to limit this so he may have the freedom to develop them as a writer should. So there if there is a feel of a plot hole or inadequately explained party involvement, please forgive. This is not an oversight, but balancing the needs of multiple stories in different stages of writing and giving due respect toward another writer's freedom to develop his own elements as he sees fit without trapping him in how they were portrayed here. But it would be logical for the two stories to touch bases on my end at this point and I cannot get around it. Fray's character that MAY be involved this chapter is a medical expert. I'll just have to play it by ear as I start writing. Thank you for your understanding.

---

Colonel Alpha stood next to Echo near the large holo display at the center of Doomwind's bridge. Tentative blue icons representing the Irken battleship Irradiant Dispair and her support ships were ahead of them as they settled into a rough formation on the way to Mars orbit. Doomwind's friendly green icon was centered a respectful distance behind as the Irken flagship followed the course General Tak had laid out. A swarm much smaller icons representing Spittle Runners, also green, englobed the formation as they kept a watchful eye on the visitors.

The Runners had reported back. All scans of the vessels had confirmed ship identification, and the go ahead to escort them to Mars had been given. Now various ships were talking back and forth.

The Asteroid Smelter Rock Smiter wanted to stop as they passed over the solar system's main asteroid belt. Maybe, Alpha's military instincts told him. We might be able to spare a Runner as escort to keep an eye on them. And deploy mineral survey probes into the Trojan Asteroid fields near Jupiter. Unverified Irken probes flying free in our space? No.

The Munitions Factory Vessel Detonation kept pace in the middle of the formation. With a name like that, Alpha wanted to maintain good separation discipline regarding that particular ship. And an uninhabited planet like Mars was a good place to park it in his opinion. However they wanted their shuttles to start ferrying supplies from the giant transport Megastorage to begin mass production of whatever laughable jury-rigged units Zim had come up with. And where to deliver them. And when Rock Smiter would deliver the raw material to start crafting these strange primitive weapons called 'bullets.'

And just what was this thing called 'flak' that General Tak was referring to? Surely even Earth made medication for that.

The Hospital Ship Dookie Happens was asking for everything on human physiology, medical science, injury tolerances, biological necessities and a host of things Alpha could barely pronounce. They had a medical shuttle standing by to retrieve Lady Gaz. At hearing that she was still to be kept immobile at Governor Zim's last orders, nearly a week old, they responded that they would equip the shuttle for transporting an immobile patient. And what exactly was her medical condition?

It had been an interesting ten minutes as the convoy got under way. Alpha had the Irken at the communications station relay much of the 'inquiries' back to General Tak on Earth. Others he had deferred for later when the convoy was settled into Martian orbit and things could be sorted out in an orderly fashion.

"They don't seem to comprehend that other species have security concerns, do they?" Echo whispered. "At least none that involves Irken 'visitors.'"

"I know," Alpha spoke back quietly so that the Irkens crewing the bridge along with the two humans wouldn't overhear. "It's like they think they are still in Irken space and they are at the top. I'd say that an independent protectorate is a foreign concept to them. So it's a good thing we've got General Tak. How are your birds doing out there?"

Echo looked back up the large holographic display. "The Runners are doing good. We've got those ships covered. But then, they are dealing with their own kind with their own ships."

Alpha just nodded.

He whipped his head around as a loud voice from the Irken manning the sensor display board called out. "Contact! Hypergate jump! Two- Correction, three- No, make that six contacts bearing one-seven-three. Range: Five hundred thousand miles. Small craft."

---

General Grat stood on the command deck of his flagship looking over the shoulder of one of his subordinates. He had been studying the row of displays that showed the human's ship, which looked like an ugly, misshapen brick to his red eyes. Visual, infrared, any scan that would not be too intrusive or provocative. This situation was nothing like he had expected.

His chief of fleet intelligence had sent inquiries out as a favor while his ships headed back to Irk, leaving the rest of his fleet to hold the line against the Meekrob. The chief had a fairly cushy job of guessing enemy capabilities and intentions, and like the rest of the General's staff had remained behind to do their job.

So he had known a little about Earth. Which is to say that it existed, and was technologically pathetic. They had no native space capability, but Governor Zim and Lady Gaz had obtained a very old and obsolete spacecraft that had been salvaged for bulk cargo transport. It had very limited offensive capability. Suitable for dealing with a few of the larger Resisty raider corvettes. Maybe.

He had NOT known about a full Irken General defending this star system. Or that she was another Irken who had bonded to another human. Clearly another exile. But like himself, spoke with a voice that rang elite.

Then there was that human ship, which was actually the Earth Governors' personal warship, and not only crewed with a Governor's Own unit, but the ship was commanded by a human! They may not be military, but any such unit automatically had an infamous reputation as being a hazard best left alone. They were a Governor's private security, but with much more in common with military units. But their PAKs were less than inhibited when it came to what it took to do their job. Which was essentially to protect their Governor no matter what was necessary. And just the personnel circumstances over there spoke little of this unit's mental stability.

The earlier report that this ship had made an in-system FTL jump into point blank range of the Irk hypergate was confirmed by this vessel's skipping from Earth orbit to his position just now. It was considered insanely risky as the least minute miscalculation could ram them into a rock. Assuming it was even charted to begin with. Then there was the possibility of collisions with other traffic, garbage that someone may have thrown out the airlock or just plain fell off a ship. These Irkens crewing that ship performed such a rapid transit just to check out what he was doing here. A routine mission profile. Not a last option out of desperation to retreat from superior forces.

They were most willing to do whatever was necessary. No matter how insane it sounded to reasoning and educated minds.

General Grat went back to studying the image of the human's ship. The ship had sprung more surprises before they had even spoken. It launched pair of Irken Spittle Runners and an Assault Shuttle. A surprise, but a smallish one. Then he learned of the Irkens crewing that ship out there. Then General Tak, who spoke as if she was certain that pathetic vessel out there could destroy his battleship in an engagement in an extremely short amount of time.

Then that ship launched another twenty-eight Spittle Runners to scan them and escort the convoy to the inner planets.

Information had been sketchy as to the initial salvage crew's survey report about this ship. Just 'Battle Cruiser mass. Defensive capable, minimal offense. Military Rating: absurd. Recommended for transport only.' So he had assumed it was like many other technologically inferior ships other species built. Perhaps an old, beat up Bulk Cruiser. A warship built around mass to make up for inferior weapons, allowing it to last longer in combat.

But this was no Bulk Cruiser. The ship had launched a full squadron. Of Irken craft. All his assumptions were out the airlock and he was antennae deep in unknown facts. As a veteran General who spent several years fighting the Meekrob, he had clear understanding of how dangerous that could potentially be.

"Initial reports coming in from Combat Intelligence," an underling the General stood over stated. "Data is sketchy and conflicting. The human ship is keeping it's full capabilities to itself. No fire control scans. Thermal plumes from the energy turrets indicate they are warmed to a standby state, but not charged. It's definitely a warship of some sort, but a secondary class at most. Hatches along its side indicate cargo handling, not tactical in nature. Sub-light speed and maneuvering is more limited than usual."

The Irken seated at his post paused as more Irken script appeared on one of his displays. He had eight others down in the lower decks analyzing data and reporting to him as representing their department on the command deck.

"Visual imaging now notes approximately a dozen smaller batteries scattered along the top of their hull. Defensive only in nature. Limited offensive energy turrets arrayed along the right side with the superstructure. Design reasoning unknown. Spectrographics indicate heavy hull plates. Analysis indicates it is designed to neither pursue nor evade targets. Combat purposes unbalanced on the defensive. New data. Interpretation unclear. Additional hatches seen along the upper hull. Indications of refitting and not native to the design. Bilateral symmetry indicates that a similar patters will be found underneath as well. I'm going to have to send back to Irk for historical references. Nothing matches our current files, and what we've got was prioritized for the Meekrob sectors."

General Grat didn't ask how they could know what he did. His people were long time veterans and good at their tasks. But he disliked nothing more than the words 'Refitting: Interpretation unclear.' He fingered the light colored scar running down across his left brow down to his upper cheekbone. He had nearly lost that eye during the Battle of Tarb Nebula due to those words.

They were here to help a fellow bondmate who had been attacked, but he really wanted to know exactly what he was dealing with.

"New contact!" The call came from the Irken behind General Grat, updating the large sensor displays that gave the General environmental awareness no matter where he stood in the command center. "Hypergate signature behind the human ship. Six Irken signatures; small craft. Hull mapping indicates two Voot Cruisers, a Shuvver, and three short range personal transport craft."

"Focused scan, now!" General Grat barked. He could practically hear what that human ship behind him was thinking. Having an Irken battleship and support ships in front and suddenly new Irken contacts jumping in behind. Trap. "I want to know who they are!"

And that human ship was crewed by Governor Zim's and Lady Gaz's private Irken troops. He had seen them on the bridge of the other ship during their communications. And their Lady had already been attacked and wounded on their watch.

They would not wait for facts before reacting. My bondmate is on the Hospital Ship. It's too vulnerable. A purely defensive response was the minimum he could hope for.

"Escort Spittle Runners breaking off, all directions!" another called a report.

"Human vessel breaking formation and presenting its broadside. Radar, Lidar, Pulsewave, Gravimetrics lighting up. Battle computer identifies as tracking and fire control systems in search mode. Activity in their main weapon turrets. They've got dual mountings. Twelve secondary grade particle guns quick charged. Threat to our armor at close range. Readings indicate light batteries appear to be very short ranged cannon. Twenty four batteries in total with triple mountings. Most likely rapid cycle defense batteries."

"Imaging reports refitted hatches opening up. They're gun ports! Twenty four more open space emplacements grafted into the hull. Combat Intelligence identifies them as large bore chaff or decoy dispensers with a magnetic mortar tube- Fire control: Missile! Eight open space emplacements. Multiple seeker signatures per platform. Battle Computer identifies as quick sequence launch batteries. Light missiles with no warhead identified, but fusion power cells tied into thrusters. Range unknown but anticipate very long engagement envelopes with very high initial fire rates and range of movement. Assuming the launcher's only blind spots are the hull itself."

General Grat briefly turned back to face the Irken sitting at Combat Intelligence. His crew were good, as their lives depended on it. But this last bit was so unorthodox and conclusions had been made unbelievably fast. "How do you know that?"

The smaller Irken looked up at his General. "The battle computer identified the seekers sensor signatures immediately. They are on Megastorage's manifest and listed on inventory catalogues in nearly every civilian repair supplier in the Empire. None of it is classified as military components. It's readily available commercially."

That human ship out there was armed with Irken components. Just not military ones. As if that made a difference if shooting started.

"Message to the human ship!" General Grat barked his clipped order.

"More craft launching from the human ship! Mass launches, all directions! Spittle Runners assuming covering formation around the vessel."

More spacecraft? the General asked himself. Surely not. It couldn't have room for anything else. Not that it mattered. His ship had come as an escort, not a battle group centerpiece surrounded by escorts and space superiority craft to engage fleas. Not to mention that this system was declared a protected system by the Tallests. But there was barely time for thoughts.

"Communications from the unknown Irken formation. Very garbled. I can't make it out. Lots of confusion. I think some are claiming of being pursued by the other ships. Others are claiming they are being pursued by the other ships. I think they are arguing about who is being pursued by who. I can try alternating frequencies to contact the human ship."

General Grat nodded. But he was thinking that such confusion may look like a trick, jamming communications with gibberish and trying to sow a target with confusion as to how they should respond. Not to mention that the human ship would think that more waves may jump in as well.

"Flight pattern of the other group is chaotic and evasive, but moving in our direction."

"I'm getting readings from the human craft. Battle Comp designates as atmospheric combat craft, heavy refits. Fusion power, dual shuttle engines with overchargers, inertial dampening, but no FTL. All indications show commercial Irken tech in origin."

"Communications ready!"

"Doomwind, Doomwind. We do not, I repeat, do not know who the other ships are. They are not with my task group!" General Grat hoped the human in charge of that ship believed him. He himself wouldn't in his place. "We are not here to attack! It is forbidden!"

A human voice answered back on a general broadcast. "This is the Earth vessel Doomwind. All Irken ships are to power down immediately. Any ship moving under power will be considered hostile and fired upon."

"General, the human's ships are splitting into loose groupings. Three axis attack profile with Spittle Runners covering them. Assault Shuttles for support. We're boxed in. The main vessel is turning to confront the second Irken group."

"How many ships did the humans launch?" the General asked.

Before coming here, he couldn't believe an Irken would ever fire on other Irken ships in favor of an alien. But these weren't average Irkens. He was dealing with a Governor's Own unit. And not any 'ordinary' unit either. This one was attached to an exiled Irken and his alien bondmate, who was also co-governor. Now he wasn't sure that they would even hesitate. This was a protected system, and it appeared he was the intruder here. In a warship.

The Irken at the large sensor board tapped at buttons. "I count four squadrons. Four assault shuttles, and their main vessel."

"Seeker signatures! I read armed guided missile signatures! A dozen or more per ship on three squadrons! No reading on any warheads. Repeat: Stealthed warheads! Battle Comp projecting time-on-target, multi-axis engagement."

Lords of Irk! One battleship verses upward of ninety strike craft with at least twelve missiles each. Plus an Irken squadron to cover them. Plus however many their main vessel can launch.

That was a lot of missiles if they fired in a single volley and from multiple directions. The Meekrob also made use of small attack ships to fire impact EMP missiles to damage Irken technology and cripple ships. His defenses would never stop so many. No wonder General Tak was confident. She had clearly upgraded her unauthorized hybrid force. His battleship could withstand even heavy missiles, but external systems would be prone to damage. But his other ships, including the hospital ship his bondmate was on…

The Irken at Navigation called. "One of the Irken ships in the other group has broken away, others trailing close behind. Navigation projects a collision course with the human ship."

"Power down!" the general bellowed harshly. "This is a protected system by the Tallests command! We came to help the Governors appointed by those same Tallests! Our vulnerable ships could be… We can't start a war here. Helm, use docking thrusters only to maneuver us next to the hospital ship. Do what you can to block threats with our hull."

The Irkens around him were shocked, but obeyed their Taller. It seemed an eternity went by.

General Grat looked at the large display board as his ship cut its engines. "What have we got?" he asked the sensors manager quietly. Like the rest of his crew he hated standing down. It was so…unirken. But he had to protect his ships, not to mention his bondmate. Both from weapons from space and wrath from opening fire during an unsanctioned visit to a protected system with a warship.

"The human strike craft have moved out to two light-seconds along three main axes. Still in attack posture. Their main ship is moving to block the other Irken group."

General Grat turned to his intelligence crewman. "Have we got anything on that other group?"

The Irken manning Combat Intelligence waved both hands in a negative gesture. The one at communications spoke up. "We quietly interrogated their ship's transponders through the noise. They're nobody. The ones at the hypergate saying they didn't know where they were supposed to go. Single pilot ships and shuttles, manifest listing single slaves and a pilot's guard animal. Except that Shuvver. His transponder is broken, relaying pure gibberish."

"Have they stopped?" the general inquired authoritatively.

"Negative," reported the Irken crewman at the sensors board.

Communications spoke up again as his fiddled with his equipment. "General. It's really chaotic over there. Everyone is yelling over everyone else on all frequencies. They are all making claims of being pursued by five ships. I don't think any of them can hear anything."

"One of the human strike craft is breaking off to intercept."

The General watched the sensor board. He didn't like this. Sitting under alien controlled weapons while some other Irkens would soon be attacked. It just wasn't done. But his instincts were conflicted between his usual Irken ones and those of a bondmate. His bondmate's safety always came first when she was away from him, and he had earned the confidence and obedience of his crew, not just by his height, but in countless skirmishes with the Meekrob. They would stand by his decision regardless of the orders he gave.

A small icon slowly closed on the six icons of unknown Irken ships. As the range dropped, a small icon appeared to streak away from the human craft.

"Weapon separation!" an Irken reported. "Weapon separation at two light-seconds from target. Battle computer designates as a heavy missile or torpedo. Still no indications of any warhead. No evasive programming in flight path, estimate minimal if any AI. Least time course programming. At that range, it's a probable release malfunction."

Something within the General didn't think so. Two light-seconds was very long range. His battleship's primary energy guns could reach that far, but hitting even a moving capital ship at that range was chancy. A space station, yes. And his sophisticated anti-ship missiles could impact at that range. But a missile with such simplistic programming as this one displayed? No way. Defensive fire would shoot it out of space the instant light energy weapons had the range. Plus it would still have to hit such a small target that could evade impact from something designed for such long ranges. So why did his veteran's instincts tell him to be wary? Perhaps it was how the rest of those human strike craft were formed up at the same range around him.

He watched the small icon as it closed on the group of targets. Then as it reached the halfway point in the envelope between secondary energy ranges and light defensive range, the icon vanished to be replaced with an intense fusion detonation icon. Was it a dud or did it abort due to a misfire?

A shocked loud voice echoed from Combat Intelligence. "Grazer fire! Lords of Irk, that was a Grazer! Someone put a gamma-ray laser inside that torpedo!"

"Chatter from unknown Irken ships just went from chaotic to united. Reporting being fired upon by an unknown ship. Doomwind claims that it was a warning shot, but I don't think it's getting though to them."

The general had felt himself go pale, and wasn't really listening. He was listening to the feeling of a thousand other missiles with 'unknown warheads' pointed toward his ships. When General Tak made the comment that her forces might rip his battleship in half from a single pass, she hadn't been sarcastic. She was very serious. And they did this with commercial parts, like the ones Megastorage was taking to them? Enough for forty of such volleys of self-propelled, siege grade energy weapons fired en mass from light attack craft?

General Grat shook himself of those thoughts. The human in charge of that ship had just thrown down a gauntlet to every Irken ship in the system. And he had more Irken ships on his side than the two Irken sides did.

This was a very strange star system. Where the laws of convention seemed to have been banned long, long ago.

"The other Irken group is diverting all power to engines. Collision course with the human vessel while requesting assistance from their attacker. They aren't making sense. Are we sure they're Irken? Maybe they're Resisty."

The general scoffed. But not as much as he liked. But nothing here made sense. Only an Irken crewed ship could use the hypergate. Right?

"They are approaching the human ship," came a report from navigation. "Their attack and space superiority ships are not moving to protect their vessel."

The general walked up to an Irken seated at his station. "Show me their ship on your display. Visual imagery. I need to see this."

Doomwind was still behind the Irken convoy, but had moved away to open the distance. The view telescoped to greater magnification. Twin blue pulses shot out like lightning from one of the vessel's secondary turrets. Most likely another one of these 'warning shots.'

"Doomwind has fired. No change in the unknown's course."

Then the general let out a gasp as the whole of space on the far side of the human vessel erupted into violent explosions while bursts of plasma stitched the starscape from every rapid fire point defense battery that could be brought to bear.

"Intel. Do NOT tell me that is just chaff!"

"Negative! Spectrometrics reading numerous fields of tungsten alloy fragments and exothermic reactants. Some sort of very short range area suppression warheads. Battle Comp indicates defensive only."

Apparently this General Tak subscribed to a different philosophy than those who developed Bulk Cruisers. More like the exact opposite philosophy when compensating for inferior firepower technologies. One might simply call it the 'Rate of Fire' theory. Simply fill space with as much ordinance as possible as fast as possible for as long as possible. Enough to walk on. Turn the area around your ship into the purest killbox for anything that came close. Friend or foe alike. No sophisticated AI targeting system. No active scanning. No range finding or prediction algorithms. No complex technology. No maneuvering. Just start dumping charges out into space and let them rain down on everything.

Grat wondered just where she had gotten the inspiration for something like that.

"The other group broke off before hitting that wall of… whatever that was," came the report.

---

The Irken in the cramped Voot Cruiser took hard evasive, completely ignoring his navigation in horror at that field of continuous explosions between him and the alien ship. He didn't know where he was in the galaxy. He had disconnected his navigation system so that his searches would not be transmitted to anyone else back in the Irk system when the nav-computer would try to request updated information regarding star charts.

Caution had been essential back in Irken space, and he had survived out on the fringes for so long. He existed in as much secrecy as he could get away with. For three weeks he had been parked by the hypergate; not counting the two months to get there, deflecting as much attention as possible while his PAK compelled honesty with the inquiries directed his way. The Irken had talked his way through the hypergate claiming that he had remembered that he was supposed to be a scout for this Irken Task Group heading to a place called 'Earth.' Well, he was scout. And he was trying to reach some place called Earth.

But he must have aroused suspicion despite all the precautions, for five small craft including a military Shuvver had jumped through as well. He had started evasive maneuvers before anyone of them could charge up weapons, and the whole group had flowed toward the alien ship. Anytime one of the ships got behind another, someone would veer away momentarily. Communications were a mess. He tried calling for assistance, but there must be a transmission reflector out there. An effective way to scramble communication frequencies. The more one transmitted, the stronger the gibberish got as everything was retransmitted back. Neither could he afford the power to try to cut through the interference. And even under these circumstances he wouldn't fire on another Irken ship.

Then from somewhere came Grazer fire! Those could be classed as siege weapons. Even capital ships could only fit them as spinal mounts, much like how engines were mounted within a hull. Only the largest battle stations could mount something of that energy output in a turret. But he couldn't see any large ship that could have fired it while dodging all these others around him. Many of his instruments were blocked from sight anyway.

So he rolled the dice in an act of desperation and flew at top speed toward the alien ship. Surely he could reach it before his engines were shot out or was captured in a tractor beam. Then the alien ship fired its main battery. He believed it was toward those behind him as it wasn't directed at his Voot in particular. Perhaps his calls had gotten though…

Then it seemed as if space itself opened fire in waves of explosions in front of him. It didn't matter that they were well ahead of his ship.

He had wrenched the controls in an evasive maneuver so hard that he had lost control. The Irken raised arms that showed healing burns, and began punching what emergency beacons he could reach. He was so close… His transponder began sending short coded signals. General distress. Navigation failure. Communication failure. Computer failure. Control failure…. Medical distress: Urgent.

Then he made the last play he could make, channeling power from engines into his communication array. It would condemn him to his pursuers, but he had to.

He looked over at the large avian beak draped weakly over his shoulder. The delicate and frail body nearly filled the cockpit behind him. Another flare of explosive generated light filled his canopy.

The Irken punched a button as his ship spun randomly. He yelled out his desperate words in fear.

---

Alpha sat back at his command station, listening to buzzing rain of flak shrapnel on Doomwind's outer hull. The bridge was several sections within the superstructure, but the sound transmitted through the ship's skeleton and bulkheads.

General Tak no doubt wanted answers. But he was a bit preoccupied at the moment, standing off between two Irken groups of ships. General Grat's Task Group had not acted at all, and had shut down his sublight engines. His defensive systems were reported to be still standing by, but Alpha could respect that. Especially since Echo's fighters had over a thousand weapon systems trained on his convoy. His actions fit with his stated intentions about coming here to be helpful. But the situation was confused at best among a unit whose military pretty much had a reputation for shooting at everybody.

Echo had positioned his fighters to act as orbital weapon platforms around the biggest potential threats, General Grat's battleship in particular, which dramatically eased the workload regarding the remote piloted planes. All his pilots had to do was pull the trigger if those ships blinked wrong. Then input an automatic command to fly to a hasty rendezvous point where Doomwind would make an FTL hop for rearming.

Alpha had no idea who these other ships were, and neither it seemed did General Grat. For all he knew, another wave could jump in without warning at any moment. Maybe not just a few small ships.

Then those evasive ships started setting collision courses while filling communication frequencies with confusion. Earth's history of modern warfare had nasty lessons regarding kamikazes attacking naval ships. Alpha didn't know Irken tactical 'options' their military would use, and things were happening too fast to ask around. But when a group of small craft with FTL capability refused to power down, then set collision courses with his ship, he wasn't going to politely inquire as to why.

In the brief amount of time that had past, it appeared that no one had the foggiest idea what was going on.

The Irken crewing the communication board had also reported on the incoming ship's transponders and cargo manifest, which listed slaves. Or in this case, hostages. Alpha couldn't simply open fire. He had to actively discourage them to not approach his vessel.

So Alpha ordered a warning shot with their main batteries. One of Doomwind's armored main turrets rotated and the ship fired for the first time in at least six hundred years. The double energy bolts shot out at the incoming Irken ship's general direction, but not directly at them.

And they had not gotten the message. In fact, they seemed completely oblivious to it. Communications were still trying to sort of the garbled messages of six ships talking over each other on all frequencies.

So Alpha ordered the missile launchers retracted, the ship buttoned up, and the flak cannons to start carpet bombing well ahead of their approach.

If anything said 'Do Not Approach!' it was a carpet bombing of wide areas of space and an expanding hail of tungsten kinetic kill shrapnel in front of a spacecraft's path.

As a warning, it was not subtle in the least. All six ships went into wild evasive maneuvers.

Beed took a step closer. "We can't keep this up long. The autoloaders are untested prototypes and may jam. And we only have munitions for fifty more seconds of sustained fire."

The Irken at communications spoke up sharply. "One of the ships is broadcasting distress beacons. Multiple causes."

"Negative," the Irken at sensors contradicted. "No power fluctuations on any ship. Wait. One small craft veering away uncontrolled, but systems appear stable."

"He's broadcasting. Heavily amplified signal. Putting it though now."

Alpha briefly and inwardly smacked himself. Idiot. Why didn't I think of that? Because tanks didn't have power to transfer into a radio, and it would have burned out at the attempt. Then as a frantic male voice resounded throughout the bridge, Alpha's expression winced.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot! To any non-Irken vessel, we need assistance! My companion needs medical attention. She's not suited to live off world, and I couldn't survive any longer on her planet. She is not Irken. We've been in space for weeks. Please, don't shoot!"

Alpha's head snapped over toward the fire control officers. "Cease fire! Cease fire, damn it! Echo, get-"

"On it!" Echo called back, already moving his fingers on the control interface at the holographic display and issuing commands like some ancient wizard. "Crimson group, Dragon group, manned birds return and land ASAP. We need Gorilla security teams on the flight deck pronto. Possible slaves coming aboard. Condition unknown."

"Bio-technician stand by to lend assistance, Maintenance Bay Two. Hold at the inner corridor until called for," Beed issued the command at the Irken manning communications as he stood next to the far taller Alpha. "We don't know what is being brought in."

"Colonel Alpha," Communications called again with a report. "Other ships are signaling. There is still a lot of overlap. But there are some nearly begging to allow them to dock before Irken ships intervene. Something about refuge for them and, I think, their passengers."

"Ah, Jeez!" Alpha exclaimed, pressing a palm to his forehead and shaking his head. Their manifests had listed slaves. But what was being said over communications was companion and passengers. Irkens had no qualms over the 'S' word like decent humans did.

Echo was quick to note it too, but no one was going to jump at conclusions. "Runners Seven through Twelve. Intercept and tow the Irken small craft around the flak debris, and back to the ship. Assault Shuttle Four, return to ship for ordinance removal. Stand by for possible medical evacuation."

Alpha stood up from his station. He and Echo were the only two humans on board at the moment, and a senior human officer should be down on the flight deck when the- new arrivals- came in. As commanding officer, his place was on the bridge. But Echo had most of his Air Group out at the moment, and this was the first hairy experience for most of his green pilots. And the first time they had been confronted with actually shooting at someone for real.

"I'm going down below. Colonel Beed, the ship is yours. Don't let that General over there try to bully my ship just because he's taller."

The Irken standing next to Alpha looked up at the far taller human. "I have the bridge. And it is very difficult to accurately judge height over ship-to-ship video traffic," he said with a smile that showed teeth.

---

Alpha walked out into the maintenance bay on the flight deck. He had stopped by the armory with a Irken security detail from Second squadron. Most of the First was still out in the Spittle Runners, with all the other Irkens currently crewing the ship. So now he was walking out into the large cavernous bay, a holster clipped to his web belt, where two Voot Cruisers were parked.

The four security Irkens in body armor and particle rifles followed close behind, and the ten human pilots of Crimson and Dragon fighter groups entered the bay through a hatch on the other side. They also had human side arms and survival knives tucked into their pilot's vests that covered their green military-surplus flight suits. Not particularly useful for a starfighter pilot perhaps. But the former military pilots among them hadn't been flying in space long enough to drop the habit, and had instead passed it on to the other human pilots they had been training.

Light Irken infantry weapons were powerful for their size, as they were energy weapon based. But they were all designed for small, three fingered hands. Adult humans required something larger just to handle them comfortably. Something with more… heft. But high-tech small arms for humans were not much of a consideration to develop. The mission behind this whole project had been to keep hostile ships away from their world; assuming any ever came. Not wait for them on the surface in foxholes to be blasted from orbit. Besides, humans had been fighting each other since the second human child had been born. There were plenty of native weapons around suitable for security.

Besides, while an energy bolt could cause catastrophic damage, a supersonic bit of lead or a sweeping knife could be horrific in their own brutally primitive way against unprotected flesh and bone.

Down at the far end the deck crew was removing laser-head torpedoes from the recalled Assault Shuttle with its rear boarding ramp lowered. The temporary deck officer on duty hurried over to Alpha.

"Colonel. The occupants refuse to open up and come out. They say they were trying to reach the refuge planet. Not an Irken unit."

Alpha took this in as the heavy set of airlock doors leading back to the landing bay filled the hanger with its deep rumbling whine. The heavy doors opened and a tractor beam embedded in the bulkhead hummed on, dragging a large Irken Shuvver into the bay. It was a wreck, looking like the aftermath of a car accident. It screeched along and was slightly tilted to one side as it was brought in on only two landing struts.

He waved the Irken security team back, and the humans approached the two Voot Cruisers. One of them had significant dents and scrapes in the hull. The flak barrage hadn't done this. They had been well out of range. Also shrapnel shredded into objects, not bang on them like hammers.

Alpha walked up to the dented Voot Cruiser with arms outstretched, but the flap of the holster at his hip undone. The other human pilots were behind him, spread out in a semi-circle. As these were the two groups that had been professional military previously, they were prepared as Alpha was.

"I am Colonel Alpha," he called out to the hidden pilot of the banged up Voot Cruiser. This was a delicate and unclear situation, possibly with an innocent being involved. There willingly or not was also unclear. But he would have to communicate in a way that another culture would understand. "This ship is under my command. The Irkens here are a separate unit on loan to me."

An amplified voice spoke out of the Voot Cruiser. "That's impossible. You must be a high placed slave. I see Irken security behind you with far superior weapons."

Alpha put his fingers into his mouth and let out an incredible sharp whistle. "Deck Officer! Clear the compartment for a minute," he bellowed above the noise of a working flight deck.

He also motioned with a finger at the Irken security behind him, and the Irkens on deck quickly, if curiously, walked out into nearby hatches. Alpha turned his head from side to side as the deck turned mostly silent. The humans split their attention by threes toward the three Irken ships that had been brought in. Then he turned his attention back to the Voot Cruiser.

"See? The Irken crew left because I needed them to. Now it's just us humans here. Lady Gaz herself chose me to command this vessel. Earth is not far away. But, some of your manifests list that you have slaves aboard. Earth abolished slavery, and in this system it is considered a crime against a sentient being. Any slave entering this system is automatically free, and under our protection. So if you don't release your captive, we may just have to rescue them."

Alpha had his doubts about the status of who was onboard. But communication wasn't just about the words spoken. It appeared that whoever these pilots were, they had come looking for a safe place for those aboard. So Alpha showed a protector's intent. That his human forces were the protective shield of those 'slaves.' Against the pilots inside if need be. And if they were willing to take a stand against the pilots inside, they would definitely take one against anyone these pilots thought they were evading.

Of course he was making a decision he didn't have the authority to make. Governor Zim wouldn't care about the plight of conquered slaves. Not with the background he came from. Lady Gaz probably would back up Alpha's decision, but according to her own rules that she lived by. And high on that list would be that nobody owned Gaz. And there would be no rule allowed that even hinted that someone could. And naturally, Zim would back up Gaz.

Even though Lady Gaz had not regained consciousness yet, Zim would know what stance his wife would take if it was pointed out to him for her. Yes, that would work nicely, Alpha thought to himself.

There was hesitation, and then the canopy cracked open. The stench of death and decay poured out. And as the canopy raised further, half a dozen skeletons of various small animals tumbled out. At least it was darkly hoped they were small animals.

All the humans drew their side arms out of instinct. Nearly every horror movie about aliens started like this. The canopy raised further, and an Irken was attempting to carry a large avian of some sort out of the cruiser on his back, his spider limbs protruding from his PAK to steady the light but bulky being.

The humans started shouting, pointing handguns when bones clattered onto the deck plates. "Get down on the deck! On the deck, NOW! Arms out, face down!"

The Irken was trying to step down carefully so as not to drop his passenger, but the avian on his back must have had a twelve foot wingspan. It almost looked like some variation of the ancient Mircoraptor, only more avian in appearance than that dinosaur had. Covered in brown feathers, large wings now dragging on the deck limply, it's head and beak draped over the Irken's shoulder. The Irken himself had suffered numerous small meat-burn lines on his arms and head that had nearly healed.

The Irken carefully laid the avian down on the deck as the humans continued to brandish their primitive firearms. He looked up at Alpha with sorrowful red eyes.

"You have to help her," he croaked out. "I brought what animals I could for her, but she's a carrion feeder. She can't eat something that isn't rotting. But the smell drove the other animals insane. She hasn't eaten in nearly four weeks. I tried to pick off what was left on the bones, but-"

The Irken broke off, holding the head of the avian laid out on the deck. The female cooed something softly, weakly, in return. The Irken looked down upon her, still speaking to the humans. "I claimed she was my trained guard animal, but she's not. You have to help her."

Alpha holstered his sidearm, and motioned the others to do the same. He turned his head and bellowed. "Deck Officer!"

Several rows of antennae had been sticking out from around the hatches. A head poked out.

Alpha continued. "Get that shuttle turned around. We need it to make an FTL hop back to Earth. And contact communications. Send a message to Lieutenant Charlie. Tell him to grab a shovel and head out to the highway. We need roadkill, stat!"

---

Needless to say, Zim had been livid. While their ships had settled into Martian orbit, he had ranted at General Grat and Colonel Alpha over the brief video conference about their blundering around in his star system, nearly turning it into a war zone. Zim verbally tore a strip off of the General's backside for thinking it was a good idea to suddenly appear in a battleship in silent running, and not check in upon arrival to declare his purpose for being there. Then fumed over the fact that he had not sufficiently secured his use of the hypergate, allowing several completely unauthorized ships to follow his convoy through.

Alpha had taken it in stride on the other end of the video feed. None if it was really anyone's fault, and unforeseen mistakes had been made by everyone involved. Especially these latest arrivals who had apparently implemented identical, not to mention blind and half-conceived, plans and methods to reach this place. And had been so worked up over not getting caught that they each had been convinced that the others who had come through with them were there to take them into custody for judgment back on Irk.

The General had to choke down responses several times. Zim may be a defect, but he was also the Governor overseeing the only Protectorate of the Irken Empire. By the Tallests order. This made Zim feel good. It was really the first time the Irken had concerning his role on Earth since first learning that he was, well, not perfect. And had in fact been sent away because he was seen as a blight in Irken form. A disaster to Irk rather than other planets to be targeted.

Despite what his Gaz-blossom had intended at the beginning, he hadn't been too enthused about turning a pretend Governorship of Earth into a real thing. His Irken notions of ruling Earth had long been based more on having the humans cowering underneath his heels, subject to every whim and fancy that crossed his mind. Not babysitting this ball of mud and water in secret. Forbidden to impact the native society in any significant way while protecting it from vague, and not to mention imaginary, external threats.

But taking care of his wife, rarely if ever leaving her side, tending to her every need, had perhaps given Zim some new insight. He didn't quite understand what that was. Zim held no new loyalty for Earth per se, and yet it was his wife's planet too. The homeworld of their future smeets.

Up until recently, Gaz had been the one who landed in circumstances in which emphasized her as Lady. And progress was being made, far more than Zim had ever accomplished as an 'Invader.' Zim knew of his knack for wrecking things. It was what he was designed to do. And it pleased Zim that the Irkens around them looked up to his human wife as their rightful Lady. Gaz-blossom was fit and deserving of her rank. Zim had been wary of sabotaging her efforts with his help as he was prone with his own schemes in the past. And not just because of Gaz's predisposition to doom the deserving. But because it would upset her. Take away from the happiness she had finally found.

Now this General had kept his protests silent due to Zim's authority. If Zim wanted to rant at this visiting Irken's mistakes, resulting in nearly getting his command shot out from under him, there was no protesting it. It was the first time Zim's role felt real to him.

Of course it was about the only good thing Zim had been feeling about the whole incident. General Grat, well known Irken commander of Third Fleet, Meekrob sector, had backed down in the situation; surrounded by weapons and forced to stand down or risk being destroyed. Without even firing a shot. Granted, it was the right call to avert turning a support mission into free-for-all disaster. But that was infuriating too, even if it was his defensive forces that had held their ground. With weapons he designed. Okay, that bit pleased Zim to no end. But still… it was a matter of an Irken battleship standing down to someone other than Irken.

And what was worse, Zim had missed the whole thing!

For a few hours, after finishing the long distance 'conference,' Zim had complained to Gaz as she lay inert deep within Zim's base. He had not moved her from the medical bay, and Gaz remained on the examination table. Zim had never left her side in the past week or so. At least not for long. Gir was still off doing whatever, and Computer was rarely the one to break the silence, so the base was quiet.

There were now some examination trays serving as end tables surrounding the platform his wife lay on. Not just with necessities of her care, but surrounding her with picture frames, her collection of obsolete GameSlave disks, even some old toys from her early childhood. Gaz was tucked comfortably under her favorite blankets. Things to help her feel more at home as her body healed.

Zim had complained, and then just talked as blankets were momentarily pulled down to give Gaz her daily sponge bath. Awkward having to wear rubber gloves designed for human fingers and carefully rubbing her limbs, neck and face clean with a wet sponge while avoiding water burns. And yet it had become pleasant. Especially compared to the diaper changing. But also sad, as her arms and legs remained limp as he washed and then rubbed them dry. Her lips neither frowning at something stupid, nor smiling in some shared moment. Those amber human eyes hidden from view by closed eyelids ever since Gaz had been brought back from the brink of death.

Even though Gaz was present there in his base, Zim missed her so much. There had been no more indications that Gaz was aware of her surroundings.

Zim sighed as he finished his ministrations, tripling checking his human wife's needs before the Irken took a step back. Her IV was full, diaper empty. Fresh medication patches along her neck to prevent infection; what pain her body may be in. The feeding tube and related paraphernalia was clean, and Gaz's forehead had it's normal warmth. A review of the latest of the twice daily scans by computer. Body mending as expected according to human medical references found on the internet. Two near microscopic dots adapting well within her smeet chamber organs.

Zim shook his head. He had cooled off some, but what really had him so upset was that now he would have to leave Gaz's side and take his Voot Cruiser to the new base where the latest arrivals had been evacuated. These other Irkens were a problem, but not necessarily a military one for Tak to deal with.

The humans from the Crimson Shields flight group that returned with them, and under Bravo's direction, had guided the new arrivals into separate rooms until facts could be sorted out. It was explained that slavery was forbidden on a Refuge Planet, and that it was necessary that they be allowed to speak freely without fear of Irken reprisals. Strangely, there was only discontent among those Irkens, but little sign of resistance.

The exception had been the Irken and his 'pet.' Mrs Alpha had called a veterinarian, claiming to have rescued a rare imported bird they had found behind some rest stop as it picked at a chicken bone someone had thrown away. 'Abandoned,' it was starved and weak, unable to fend for itself.

She alluded that her family was just traveling though, and that they would care for the 'adopted bird' on their way home. A humanitarian intent no one would refute without feeling like scum. And with her strong British accent, a vet would not be too inclined to follow up on a patient across international borders and possibly several thousand miles.

Starvation recovery was a tricky thing even when the subject was another human. An unknown exobiology complicated that, even with the small medical facility for the Irkens on base, regardless of how advanced it was. But oddly, a human animal doctor, who was trained to treat numerous terrestrial species, was more qualified than the Irken bio-technician for advice on nursing a starved bird back to health. At least in the general guidelines.

There may have been a Hospital Ship in system, but it was also an Irken military vessel. They may have come to help Gaz-blossom. But that didn't necessarily apply to any one else who wasn't Irken. And once onboard, might claim jurisdiction. There was no way Zim would allow that to happen. Not in his system.

The Irken Governor sighed, and leaned over to kiss Gaz on her forehead, lovingly brushing her purple bangs out of the way with his antennae. "Zim will be back soon, Gaz-blossom."

As he walked to the elevator, Zim unnecessarily reminded Computer of how important it was that he watch Gaz every nanosecond until he returned. And to signal if anything changed. Or looked like would change. Or might change. Or…

---

"When I signed on for this, I never imagined this would be part of the job description," Charlie muttered to himself as he walked past a Crimson Shield pilot politely guarding the door and entered the small compartment that had been fitted to serve as the human's kitchen area and cafeteria. It was located near the surface at the far end of the base, so as to provide excessive ventilation so the Irkens wouldn't have to smell anything.

None of the other Irkens came here, as most of what humans ate was disgusting. Charlie's voice was pitched high and distorted due to the ear plugs shoved into his nostrils. He dropped the garbage bag he held next to the unfamiliar Irken after leaning a shovel up against the table the alien sat at. "Is this… ripe enough?" The human asked queasily.

The Irken untied the garbage bag, but did not look inside. The air within was enough to tell.

The Irken spoke in a disturbed voice. "Yes, but how will she-"

Charlie held up a hand, crossed the room, and pulled out a turkey baster from a plastic bin under a wide counter along one wall which had all manner of small appliances sitting on it. "The vet recommended using an eye dropper for awhile until she got her strength back."

"But how will I fit this… thing… inside? There is no technology within that device."

Charlie closed his eyes briefly. Thankfully he had skipped lunch. He heaved up a medium sized appliance from off the preparation counter and brought it over to the table. "We're going to have to use this," he said trying to strangle his own imagination to death. "And then strain out the bone fragments."

The Irken looked at the device. A wide cylinder made of bright metal with a clear top. It sat on a base with several buttons on it with many curved blades sticking up inside. "I… see."

Neither were enthused about the next step.

With shared aversion, they unloaded the… garbage bag into the… device for… processing.

Charlie had no doubt that whatever the situation was, this Irken had it bad for the avian scavenger now resting in a basic residence a few doors down. And Charlie had no doubt that when he took this job, he never thought he would one day be pureeing a rancid possum with an eight thousand dollar industrial food processor. When they were done, it was definitely going to be cleaned outside. With a hose. From the fire truck.

And the Irken and his avian could keep the thing.

After a few moments, the two different beings turned their backs as the machine… did it's thing.

"So how did you two meet?" Charlie asked the Irken above the noise, picturing sunsets, scenic meadows, pink bunnies playing in an animated forest… No, delete the cute animated bunnies. Not with the… mulching going on behind them.

The Irken stared straight ahead as well, even though he had endured worse within his tiny ship for weeks. "I was on a mission twenty years ago. Deep space survey, charting rouge asteroids and planets. Extended duration, so my Voot was towing cargo pods with necessities. Three years in I was heading back along my spiral course, performing a routine scan of a planet during solar turbulence. It should have been safe enough, covered by the planets magnetic field. And I was going to be there for a while anyway. Didn't know about the class Z solar flare brewing. My Voot was hit by the energy wave while in orbit. Lost communications, navigational instrumentation, sensors, the computer. Even life support sensors burned out. Had to make an emergency landing down on a continent. Grassland for hundreds of miles."

The Irken paused, reaching behind him to turn off the food processor. "I had to ration onboard supplies, because the cargo pods were scattered across a hundred miles when I jettisoned them for my less than controlled landing. It was going to take years to cobble together bits from other systems to make the ship flyable again. So that's what I did."

The Irken unlocked the apparatus, removing the cylinder with the smelly meat paste, and walked out of the room into the corridor. Charlie followed him down the walkway and into the sparse room where the avian was curled up inside some white blankets arranged as a nest. With a twelve foot wingspan, it was a large birdlike creature. Over four feet long from beak to tail, it's legs tucked underneath and unseen. But right now it was curled up into a near ball.

The Irken continued his tale has he prepared to hand feed the avian. "I hadn't picked up any signs of civilization. No cities, roads, power signatures. Nothing threatening. So I thought I was alone. Then one day when I was working underneath my ship to swap out a burned out chipset for the hover system. It was torturous in the baking sun, so I was going to taxi the Voot Cruiser a few miles into a nearby sinkhole that had been half eroded into a cave. Then this shadow covered my feet. I scrambled out, and there was this alien thing standing there looking at me down her beak. She asked if I could hurry up and die before someone else showed up to claim me."

"She talks?" Charlie asked. It's braincase didn't appear large enough for sentience. The being probably weighed a bit under thirty pounds healthy.

"Not in words like most do," the Irken stated. "She doesn't have same apparatuses. But my PAK could translate her vocalizations well enough. Her intelligence may be simple, but she is sentient. I didn't believe it at first, but it turns out their brainmeat is distributed throughout their nervous system."

The Irken woke the avian up gently. Round bifocal eyes opened, and a weak vibrating coo came forth. He lifted her head, cupping her lower beak, and lifted up the turkey baster containing ripely ground possum. Her beak opened, and the feeding began.

It was really gross. The odor didn't help any.

"Ah, so what did you do?" Charlie asked, not wanting to think about things too much.

"I threw a rock and yelled at her to go away. But every day, she would return and ask 'Are you dead yet?' But after I taxied my ship to the cave, I think she saw I was a flyer too. After two months it almost turned into a game. She would stop by and ask if I was dead, and then I would sarcastically tell her to try again tomorrow."

The Irken didn't speak for a long moment, feeding his avian as she repeatedly knocked her head back and forth, swallowing as the Irken carefully squirted meat paste into her beak. "Then one day she started to bring me food. She found one of the cargo pods that crashed, and sealed snack packs were scattered everywhere. She was able to connect an Irken pod with my Voot Cruiser.

"It took eight years to get my Voot functional enough for an atmospheric test flight to check the navigational thrusters. Life support was still malfunctioning with so many failing sensors, so I couldn't risk returning to Irk. It thrilled her. She would pounce on my ship, and I would give chase. She's stuck with me ever since. I worked on my ship while she went out to find food during the day. But when she would forage for a few days, I found I noticed her absence. And when she came back full, I would show off my progress, and talk about it for hours. Even though it bored her and she didn't understand any of it. But she started noticing tremors in my hands if she stayed out for four days in a row.

"Five years ago I started running out of food. Communications were gone, and life support was unreliable no matter what I did. I still had to reenter navigational coordinates manually into the computer to replace data. We found these sweet-berries that would stretch my supplies, and I cut back on Irken food to a minimum. Perhaps one Irken snack per week. She would go out foraging for herself, but she learned to make scratch marks with one of her Talons on a survey map I tied to her foot. So she would come back with locations of berry shrubs, leaving corpses around them to scare away the small animals. Sometimes they were a hundred miles away, and we would fly back out to harvest them."

The Irken sighed, and turkey baster empty and his avian companion asleep. "But even with that it wouldn't last. It was a two month trip back to Irk on a least time course at full power. Life support needed manual control and constant attention. I had three months of Irken food left. I told her I had to leave or I would eventually die of malnutrition. To fly back home among the stars. That she couldn't come with me. There would be no ground, no sky, no way to scavenge for weeks. She told me that we were 'soar wings.' Those who fly together or not at all.

"I don't want to remember the trip back. Yet she was excited at first, flying among the stars. But I realized I couldn't let other Irkens know of her. She's not suitable for slavery, and… I couldn't let that happen. So I claimed her as my guard animal. When I got back, I got some basic repairs done to my Voot. But there was no rotten meat for her to eat other than the few animals we had brought with us in cages that we kept hidden. Then I heard rumors of a planet set aside for endangered species. But I didn't know how to get there before she starved to death on the journey. Or where it was exactly. So we waited at the hypergate for these past three weeks, hoping to slip behind a ship heading there."

Charlie watched the Irken kneel down next to the bed as he looked upon the avian. "You stupid, stupid bird," he said softly. "Cramped up in my little ship for months. You didn't even regret staying with me when it was killing you."

Charlie let out a cough, politely intruding into the display. "We can set up an unrefrigerated meat locker. Whatever we humans don't use we can toss in there."

The Irken looked up at the tall and bulky human standing before him. "You eat dead things too?" he asked with dismay. He may have had been a bit desensitized by what he had experienced in comparison, but he was still Irken.

Charlie's stomach lurched. "Not like that, and I'd rather not think about food right now."

There was a pause as the Irken looked upon the ball of brown feathers. "Does that mean we won't be sent back for judgment?" he asked, afraid to hope.

That wasn't Charlie's call, so he didn't answer directly. "When Governor Zim was first sent here, it was to be as an Invader against us. But instead of softening us up for conquest, he bonded with a human. Even married her. Lady Gaz means the world to him, and she was injured recently. The Governor is in the same position you are in right now. Spends all his time taking care of her. So if there is anyone who can relate to your predicament, it's Zim."

---

The Shuvver pilot had been led into this square room, its only furnishing in the large space was a primitive table with four equally primitive chairs. It looked to be a hasty arrangement. He had been asked by the tall furless ape-soldier to wait here as the others, five more Irkens and their alien cargo, were interviewed separately so that their stories could be corroborated.

He was confused. This was clearly an Irken base. A large one in fact. Yet he hadn't seen any Irkens here once he exited the Assault Shuttle. Only a very few of these escorting humans as they were led from the Assault Shuttle inside some hanger, through several corridors, to these rooms. But the Earth ship that he had landed on was full of Irkens. Nothing in this star system made sense.

The one that had come with him had been led into another room across the hallway as he was directed into this one, no doubt telling whoever everything she had learned. It wasn't like she owed the Empire any loyalty.

He was a failure. Had been for a long time, but he had only just begun to realize it. His life was no doubt over. But he didn't know how he could have done anything else.

He flicked at his new uniform sleeve. At least they had been given new coverings to wear. By the time they had returned to Irk, theirs had been torn and tattered for a long time.

The Shuvver pilot sat there, waiting for a long time. He could have referenced his PAK, but he didn't really want to know how long it had been.

The door opened, and three Irkens walked in. The Shuvver pilot held in the instinct to take in a breath. One of them, a smallest female, walked in first. Even though she was a smallest, she wore an Irken combat pilot's body armor. Yet it was not colored in reds and magentas. No, it was mottled grey in patterns that did not distinguish a pattern. Irken side arms were holstered at each hip, and she wore a guarded expression on her face. Next came in a taller. A small taller, but one nonetheless. This one wore a mottled grey uniform as well, but a style that he had ever seen before. It didn't seem very Irken. Her purple eyes and bent curly antennae signed a hint of fatigue, but her face was one that would never admit it. Both of them wore rank insignia on their uniforms along with name tags.

Then the third one walked in. This one was different. Definitely a taller. Not as tall as these furless apes that called themselves humans. But unlike most tallers, this one wore a simple Invader uniform along with the rather cross expression on his face.

A taller who styled himself as an Invader. Only a former Invader would do so. The Shuvver pilot gulped. He was sooo going to be hurled into a black hole.

The smallest pilot took a position by the door, which she closed. The other two took seats opposite himself. The female Irken in grey fatigues spoke first.

"I am General Tak," she stated without a shred of emotion. "This is Governor Zim."

The Shuvver pilot felt his insides freeze. He was going to be interrogated by a General and a Governor? A General sitting in on an interrogation was a sign of doom by itself. And that was if he was just sitting in on it. And if you brought them the wrong syrup glazed sandwich. But a Governor?

He was so dead.

Then the name hit him. Zim. The devestator of both Devastis and Irk itself. When he was trying to help. If the old broadcasts were accurate, and he knew it to be true, the being sitting across from him was a walking disaster zone. The pilot wasn't up on the latest, as he had kept communications to a minimum due to his passenger being a security risk along with a faulty comm system. In fact he hadn't heard anything more about this Irken for many years given how messed up his communications gear was. But surely he wouldn't have changed much.

He was so dead that the smeet factory he had been hatched in probably just exploded.

General Tak continued. "You seem to be different than the others that intruded into our defense area. Your cargo is being interviewed by a human civilian who lives here. She is very good at helping people say things that are difficult to speak."

"A professional interrogator? As in pain probes? Neural taps?"

The three Irkens could see the agitation within the Shuvver pilot skyrocket.

The general spoke again. "No. She is a natural listener and confidant. Helps people find their path in things difficult for them to face. As your cargo was listed as a slave, she thought it appropriate to help your passenger get her story out." She nodded in the direction of the Irken standing by the door. "Major Lim over there has made use of her services since arriving. So have many Irkens stationed here."

The Shuvver pilot looked wide eyed at the smallest in the corner. This smallest had a rank? Most Irkens had no ranks. Just positions. But this one's label was 'Major.' Someone of significance, especially if she was a smallest.

"General, Sir. Our support group is supposed to be anonymous. Mrs. Alpha's rules," Major Lim said.

General Tak turned her head. "I think we can make an exception here. Under the circumstances? He may wish to seek her out as well."

She faced the Irken once more. "Pilot, we saved you for last due to your unusual position. The others that came through are mostly from backwater assignments of little importance and security. But you were a military pilot with a captive. Now Zim here is getting impatient, and a bit annoyed that he had to leave his wounded bondmate unattended to deal with your fiasco. So why don't you tell us what happened like a good soldier. Do not hide the truth from us."

The Shuvver pilot gulped heavily. No. This Governor of Disaster would not be in a good mood. He was dead anyway. There was no getting around it. He had reached the Refuge Planet. Perhaps it hadn't been in vain.

"We were out on long range patrol," the pilot started. "My ship spotted an old Vortian built bulk transport and two unidentified stingships escorting it way outside the traffic lanes along our border. We ordered them to cut their engines for security inspection. The stingships broke formation and engaged. They were Resisty. We took some minor hits, but we managed to destroy them both.

"The transport had time to jump into FTL and open the distance. It fled into a planetary nebula before we could intercept. We conducted a search, but the nebula was a remnant of a dying Red Giant. Barely more than a star system across, but made up of a turbulent field of high energy particles. In that environment the FTL drive and communications were useless, plus we were flying blind. Sensors could only read disturbances in the particle fields made by the other ship if we crossed their wake or they made a turn, which they had to make if they hoped to evade us. Otherwise we would be able to position ourselves ahead of them to intercept when they came out on the other side."

The Irken blinked his eyes slowly for a moment at a bad memory. "Four days in we crossed the transport's path at point blank range. I spun hard over into a reversed velocity bleeding maneuver and threw emergency power into the main engines. Our only chance was to slow down enough that we would take only a glancing blow. But it was too late. We rammed straight into them. My commanding gunner and engineer were killed in the hull breach when the transport's structural support members... Anyway, every external system I had was ripped off my Shuvver's hull. They lost power immediately when we hit, and my ship plowed on into their habitation section. The whole ship vented out around me."

He looked at the other Irkens in the room. "The transport was mostly dead, battery power only since their reactor had scrammed before the core overloaded completely. I boarded their ship, which wasn't hard since my ship was halfway through it. It turned out to be a covert Resisty supply vessel. Food, medical supplies, basic needs like that. No weapons. No troops. No technology. Nothing. The crew hadn't even been armed. It seemed they were on their final leg to some base and their escort was showing them the way so they wouldn't be carrying the coordinates around with them if they were inspected at a space station. Anyway, it doesn't matter. They were all dead. My fellow Irkens were dead. Both ships crippled drifting in a nebula where we'd never be found by Irken ships."

The pilot looked at his gloved hands. "I was making my initial survey for useful parts and supplies. The transport's back was broken. My ship was armored. Their's wasn't. But it's thrusters were intact. Same with the cargo holds. But engineering was flooded with lethal radiation, not to mention vacuum. No way to restore power. Even if there was, the transport would have torn itself in half the instant it maneuvered. I was going through their eatery, since I would be stuck for some time."

He looked down into his lap. "I found her in a storage appliance with other perishable foodstuffs. When the compartment started to vent, she had flung herself inside and used a piece of fruit to trigger the power switch to the unit's stasis field without loosing her hand in the process. It was on independent power cells, given it was designed as an add-on for old, long range transports without upgrading their power grids. The stasis generator could hold up for decades until someone else found the wreck. I cut out the unit and moved it to my Shuvver's equipment hold.

"Maybe I should have left her there. Would have made things simpler. But I felt I needed help at the time. My sublight engines were mangled, but the freighter's maneuvering thrusters were still intact. I couldn't exactly use my FTL generators while in the nebula, let alone wedged inside a shipwreck. So I took her prisoner. Not that that meant much. Both our ships were wrecks, lost in an irradiated nebula. Her ship didn't have a speck air or heat, but plenty of supplies to live on. Mine had become not much more than a lifeboat trapped inside the other wreck. We both hated each other on principle. But she was just a cook. Didn't know anything important about the Resisty. Or even where they had been or were going. She just fed the crew."

The pilot didn't want to talk anymore. Not about that. "With the intense stellar radiation outside it took us five years. But we cut my ship free of the wreck, replaced, aligned and balanced the sublight engine, cobbled pieces together for sensors and some short range communication. But when we got to the nearest Irken base… I… I hid her. Rather than turn over my prisoner for interrogation and enslavement, I claimed that she was my slave. But… but…"

He let it out with a heavy soul. "I'm a failure. I couldn't turn her over. Couldn't treat her… We ran mostly in comm silence because I didn't want her to hear anything that could be used to infiltrate Irken traffic or worse. I did my best, but we ended up drifting from one outpost to another on endless volunteer patrols, never staying in one place for long. Not even for extended repairs because my ship would have been sent back for recycling, leaving us stranded. But I'm sure she learned a great deal about how we patrol our space. So I can't release her either. I found myself trapped. Comms never worked right after the crash, and I didn't really want it to under the circumstances. We had short range audio, and not much else. But I overheard talk about a place far away where she would be safe and where she could not get back to the Resisty. So we made our way to the hypergate and waited. But I couldn't afford to go through without a military assignment."

None of them said anything for a minute. General Tak spoke up. "I respect the difficulty you faced. I was marooned once for a long time before I was rescued. We live interesting details that we would rather not talk about. Of course your cargo doesn't have to measure up to the Irken ideal, and what she had to say was much more interesting. Shall we watch?"

To the pilot's dread, the General pulled out a Pad from her PAK and set it on the table. It began to play a scene in a similar room. An accented human female sat in one chair while a brown furred mammalian rodent, weighing nearly as much as the human did, sat across from her. The alien rodent remained in an old, patchwork uniform of lighter browns of various shades. The being sat on her haunches with her front hand-feet resting on the table, fiddling with her flat and hairless prehensile tail.

"So," Mrs. Alpha was saying, "may I ask why you don't want us to make you something to wear that is in better condition? I had the impression that those were slave's clothes. Being a crew member of a Resisty ship, I would think that you couldn't wait to be rid of them."

The furred creature with short incisors and dark intelligent eyes spoke in tonal grunts of varying duration and pitch. Computer translated words for her, but did not correct her phrasing.

"[These are mine. Made for me. Those are not. And we were just a freighter carrying food to people. Those of rank make decisions. Cooks just hired to feed people.]" The look on the furry face grew forlorn. "[They all died because we carried food to someone that someone else didn't like. But everyone needs food. Weapons I understand. But not food.]"

"He made that for you. With his own hands, didn't he?" Mrs. Alpha asked in the recording, apparently trying a different tack when the mouse-being became evasive.

The large head nodded. "[He made lots of stuff for me. Things to protect me.]"

"But he took you prisoner. Claimed you as a slave. Don't you resent that?"

"[We were both angry for a time. But we were both prisoners of the nebula. Slaves to survival. Space does not care who is over who. Does not respect labels. We learn it is us against space. We protect each other or die.]"

"You keep mentioning that he protected you. Built things for you."

"[We had five years of spacewalking in shattered metal, sharp edges, radiation surges from nebula. Looking for food. Medicine. Parts to breathe good. Parts to escape. He built me space suit with armor plates attached to suit. Plain synthetic weave invites disaster. We look out for each other always.]"

"You were his prisoner, but you took care of each other?" Mrs. Alpha asked.

The rodent looked down at the table in memory. "[First bad day after we crashed. Trying out armored suits. We try inspecting hull breach for escape. My safe-line cut on conduit. Slid into shattered hull plate. My air line severed. Helmet he made for me sealed, but no new air. An hour back his ship. I have to start panting. Sight blurry. He replace my air line with his. Refused to trade back. He passed out, and I carry him back. When he did not wake up, I breathe into him. Push him into doctor tube. Was not last bad day.]"

There was a pause before she spoke again. "[He bad Irken. I barest Resisty. Nebula does not care. Teaches us not to care.]"

"You saved each other's lives. Depended on each other to survive. Did you grow close together?"

The large mouse-like rodent didn't say anything for a while. "[Conserve power all the time. Cold in space. Cold sleep brings death. Close often. He is a good pillow. I am a good blanket.]"

"And after you two escaped, he took you back to Irken space. Didn't give you a choice. You never had a chance to return to your home," Mrs. Alpha commented, hinting at an interpretation.

The rodent looked straight at the human. "[Not true. I could have set new course during his sleep period. Make his food bad. Bite him. Take ship back to Resisty. Be hero. But nebula drive lessons deep. We can not forget. He can not turn tiny Resisty over to Irkens. I can not steal our lifeboat. But it was good opportunity. Watch, listen and learn. Maybe find way to send word back. I do best I can, but he also do his best for his people. But that a long time ago. We both find we cannot go back. No place for us.]"

"Why not?" Mrs. Alpha asked. "Now that you're here, you can go back to your people and he to his. You are not his slave. You are safe to decide where you wish to go."

The rodent hung it's head in shame. "[No. I fail Resisty. Can not go back. Do not hate Irken. Protect Irken.]"

"I think that is understandable," Mrs. Alpha told the furry being before her. "And it sounds like he's continued to protect you too, after all you shared-"

Now the long head hung lower. "[My first cycle started in nebula. I smell strongly. Took suit, hid from Irken. Smell for no one yet. Only mates may smell scent. Left message so he not look for me. I need female time alone. Seven days I come back. Irken sick. Very sick. He is stuck in tube doctor in forced sleep. I keep him warm in cold sleep. He get well. Cycles come every six months. I not hide again. He very calm. Happy, but not notice why. Smell not work like with my people, but I smell for him now. I shame Resisty. My Irken important. My smell only for him to smell.]"

General Tak stopped the recording. The Shuvver pilot didn't look at them. Why did that dumb rat have to open her mouth? He had gotten her to the Refuge Planet! Now they both were dead. If they were lucky. He may not have understood the last part of what she said, but he knew they were not Master and Slave. No, not at all. He had kept her from becoming one. Now this Irken Governor and General knew too.

"You can't separate yourself from her, can you?" Governor Zim asked with a knowing smirk.

The Irken still didn't raise his head, and his antennae hung low. There was no point. He was a failure as an Irken. He looked to getting her to a safe place where she wouldn't be tortured or enslaved when it was his duty to turn her in. But now he realized that not once did he possess the concept that they would separate. It was a totally alien concept, and had been for who knows how long. And now he learned that she didn't want to part either.

He listened to the conversation the other two were having regarding their fate.

"I suppose that we should send them back," Governor Zim was saying.

"This is true," General Tak said.

"But then I would suppose that we would have to turn in all the others. That is a lot of work. For you of course."

"Me? You're the Governor!"

"That's right. My job is to dump things I don't feel like doing onto somebody else. I have more important things to take care of at my base. Her diaper may need changing again."

He was so, so, so dead. And his companion too. But he wanted his companion safe.

There was a polite cough. He heard Major Lim speak up from her corner with an unamused voice. "Excuse me, Sirs. I know he caused a lot of trouble, but he wasn't the only one. And I know you resent being away from Lady Gaz. But I sent two humans to watch the house from the street and Computer is keeping me updated, so she's not alone. And the Hospital Ship's shuttle will be arriving soon. There is no need to toy with him like that."

There was a sigh. He didn't know from who. Zim's voice spoke next. "If we turned them over, Zim supposes that we would have to turn ourselves in too. Zim would prefer to avoid that. Gaz-blossom has a thing about stupidity."

Wait. What?

A green, three fingered female hand, the middle finger ringed by a metal band with intricate ornamentation, reached into his vision and pressed a tiny button on the now blank Pad he still stared at. The blank display flashed to life. It showed a pale skinned human with black hair and General Tak standing close together in some ceremony room, both holding up a shared award of some sort. She was clearly Irken in the picture. The male next to her clearly was not. They each had an arm entangled with the other's, the fingers of their hands laced together. Broad smiles of joy decorated their faces.

"This is my husband at our wedding. Where I took on his family name for myself. Where I pledged myself to be his wife. He was the human who rescued me. I bonded with him, and we got married soon after we arrived back on Earth. He makes a pretty good pillow too."

Another Pad slid into view. This one showed a human female with purple hair lounging with the Governor. The human looked to be nearly sitting on Zim, and he was hugging her from behind and looking very contented.

"This is my stupendous wife, Gaz Membrane. Or Lady Gaz to you. And, yes. She is human as well. Not Irken. How you did not know that when the entire Empire knows of it is beyond me."

The Shuvver pilot looked up as the Pads were taken back and chair legs scrapped the floor. He was very confused at the moment. General Tak was talking again. "Have you seen their ship, Zim? We're probably going to have to strip it for salvage and scrap the hull. The scavenger pair's Voot too. Nobody is going to want to even try and clean that one out."

"Yes, yes," Zim replied, his thoughts clearly elsewhere as he stood up to leave. "Zim is glad this is finally over. Gaz-blossom requires attention and there are preparations to make before the shuttle arrives." He stopped at the door and looked at the Irken smallest standing at attention as they were leaving. "Major Lim, you are taking responsibility for them, yes? As second officer of your Lady's guard, you will not allow it to interfere with your duty to her. Understood?"

And with that, the Governor and the General were gone.

The Shuvver pilot stared at the smallest. She remained in the corner as the door automatically hissed closed. She pulled out a communicator and spoke into it briefly. "Crimson One? You may have someone escort the prisoner back to her pilot, Major. Then after the Governor arrives home, have the shuttle and your men return to base and load up First Squadron's infantry gear. Light duty equipment for twenty. After that, have your flight prepare to escort the Governor and Lady to the Hospital Ship."

An acknowledgement was returned as the Shuvver pilot continued to stare. His thoughts were having difficulty reassembling themselves. He was too wary to hope for anything good. And this Irken in the room with him. She, a smallest, had spoken up to both a General and a Governor. She, a smallest, was second in-

Oh Irk! This smallest is second in Governor Zim's personal guard. This smallest gives orders. And normal ones don't exactly have a reputation for moderation or reasonableness in their duty. How horrible did she have to be to earn her place? How insane is she to be a guardian for Zim? And she has just been saddled with being responsible for us. She is going to make us sorry we weren't sent back.

He averted his gaze as the other Irken looked at him. "You're still confused," she said. "You don't understand, and you don't want to believe the Governor or General Tak. You still expect the worst."

He nodded.

"Then let me explain," she said as she approached, her arms crossed. "You crashed. No one made a search for you. Just listed you as dead, lost on patrol. The 'prisoner' you captured? The one hired by a Resisty ship? She became your bondmate. You need her presence or you will eventually die. You can never separate from her for long, and your instinct is to take care of and protect her. You will stand up for her, remain with her for the rest of your life. Not to mention that she has accepted you as her mate."

The Shuvver pilot hung his head in shame and shock. I'm a bondmate? With a Resisty? "I'm not a traitor," he said. Not that it would matter.

"Never said you were. But you have had to deal with another loyalty along side one for the Empire."

His antennae dropped over his face. She was saying he was a security risk. They weren't going to send them back. But their ship was going to be stripped and scrapped. Not that they would be allowed to keep it. Why would anyone trust him with an Irken military ship? His bondmate was Resisty for Irk's sakes!

"But you question my loyalty," he said.

There was a pause. "No. I don't."

He looked up. The Irken smallest wearing the lightweight ceramic weave armor and double side arms looked levelly at him. Well, she wasn't tall enough to look down at him, even with him sitting there.

"Everyone here has had to face things. I did when I learned some of my… tissues were sent to the smeet factories. That I had offspring made from them. That was not easy to face, but I arranged for my daughter to be here anyway. Out of instinct for her. She is a smallest too. I felt the need for her to have a better life. Everyone here has to live with a second loyalty. Perhaps even three or four."

The Shuvver pilot just stared at the other Irken.

"You think we were assigned here? Any of us? My group and I were cast out. We may have been reclassified as a Governor's Own unit. And we are. But that doesn't mean they weren't eager to be rid of us. Do you know why? It wasn't because we follow Zim. Our PAKs encoded themselves to Lady Gaz. A human. My unit is attached to a human, not an Irken. We were cast out; and she, being declared Lady by the Tallests, took responsibility for us. Gave us a place on her world. Governor Zim is just the Governor to us. But Lady Gaz is our Lady."

He looked at her with large eyes. "You mean… it's true? They…"

She nodded.

Major Lim opened her mouth, but there was a human knock on the doorway. An Irken would have used the voice activated admittance chime. "Enter," she commanded.

The door opened and the large alien rodent entered, walking on all fours. She looked around twitching her nose anxiously. Her eyes timid. The human escort poked his head in the doorway. "Sorry for the delay, Ma'am. It took some convincing to get-" there was a momentary pause as he quickly chose another word. "-her to come."

Major Lim just nodded. "That will be all, Captain," she acknowledged in dismissal.

The door closed, and the Resisty cook padded over to her companion. Her nose pointed up at him, sniffing the air. Her eyes worried. She lifted a paw up to him in question, but afraid to touch.

He looked down at her. Her whiskers brushed against his arm. A large floppy ear twitched. Her flat prehensile tail curled around her feet. The large mouse-like being grunted a remarkably wide array of tones. Their PAKs translated as only Humans needed Computer to do it for them. "[Will I be taken away? You get sick again. You need smell.]"

This is my bondmate, he thought. He felt shame, but not sickened. Something in him wanted to reach back to ease her. And I am hers.

"No," he told her. "They know what we are. That we share a... that we have bonded."

Her eyes registered surprise. She had sacrificed her choice of mate among her people for him, so he wouldn't get sick. Her scent belonged to him and only him. He had been clueless all along, nor did she really understand what has going on with the Irken. Just that her absence made him sick. That the nebula taught them to be partners. "[You also?]"

He saw the expression in her eyes, and nodded. "Yes. I belong to you too," he admitted.

The pilot looked over at the other Irken in the room. "I must sicken you. Maybe the Governor bonded with one of these humans. But my… bondmate. She isn't even humanoid!"

The Irken smallest surprised with with a laugh! A laugh!

"If you think this isn't the weirdest thing I've seen today, guess again. There is an avian scavenger in the medical bay with an Irken who is rather concerned for her."

The Shuvver pilot didn't know how to respond to that. So he didn't.

Major Lim broke the momentary silence. That was probably a bit much for someone who just realized he had bonded outside their species. "You two will have to remain here for now. We have our hands full at the moment."

The Irken hung his head again. "So this is our cell."

His rodent-like bondmate put a hand-foot on his knee. "[I was Resisty cook. You hate me once. Irkens hate all Resisty. You protect one Resisty from Irkens.]"

Major Lim addressed the four-footed being. "We don't ask you to be loyal to the Empire. But would you betray us to the Resisty?" She pointed at the pilot. "Betray him? You fight for the Resisty?"

The long furry head shook sadly from side to side. "[I am not fighter. Hired by ship only to cook. But Resisty can not accept me. My mate is Irken. See me as collaborator. No place for me, but I never important. Only feed people. My Irken is fighter. Killed Resisty. But Irken joined with tiny Resisty. Keep me from harm. We share nest, smells. All hate us. No place with Resisty. No place with Empire. Only place is cell on this base.]"

Major Lim didn't speak for a long moment. "I understand. We Irkens have a loyalty to the Empire, but that doesn't mean we would not defend this system from them if we had to. Resisty, Planet Jacker, Meekrob, Irken. We don't care. If anyone comes to mess with our miserable planet, we will fly in alongside the humans and blow them right out of the stars."

She stood up to leave, and turned back at the door. "This isn't your cell, and you are not prisoners. These are your new living quarters. Your home. Computer will have catalogues available soon so you can pick out things you need." She looked at them for a moment longer. "But she can't go wandering around outside by herself, or go into the restricted areas. I'll explain about the outside humans later. And have Computer help you make her something fitting to wear. She's your bondmate. She shouldn't look like you picked something out from the garbage recycler."

The two bondmates looked at each other, then back at Major Lim. The female rodent picked up a hand-foot and placed it tentatively on her Irken's leg, looking back at the Major. "[You do not hate me? Hate what we have become?]"

The Major looked at the now open door. "No. I may not be comfortable with it, but I've been around this sort of thing for a while. But for the most part? I am grateful."

The two very different beings looked at her in near shock. Surely they didn't hear that right. "[Why?]"

Major Lim looked back for a moment before leaving the pair. "Because he had you watching his back the whole time, while his fellow Irkens didn't even try to go searching for him. Because I thought my son was dead, and he showed up alive on my doorstep because of you."

She turned her face back to the doorway. "When things settle down more, I'll try to introduce you to your sister. She is in the Support Squadron. Life Support Chief aboard Doomwind. I don't know how she will respond to you. She was a bit unnerved learning I was her genetic donor. But coming from the second-in-command of the Governor's Own wasn't a bad thing. It started motivating her to dream of a better position someday. Even though she's a smallest too, she might one day find herself commanding the whole unit."

The two bondmates just looked at each other as the high ranking smallest left the room pulling out a communicator. They heard her speaking through the open door as she slowly walked away.

"Screw it. Lieutenant Bravo? Major Lim. Zim will be a few hours getting Lady Gaz ready. So forget the light infantry gear. We have a little time. The Governor's Own units back in the Empire have a reputation. That reputation is nothing. Out here, we smallests are the Lady's Own. Grab Charlie and meet the Crimsons in the armory with your gear and some cargo lifters. We're breaking out the heavy stuff and loading it into the Assault Shuttle. I want to make an impression."

---

The fifty Irken soldiers lining Shuttle Bay Nine of the Hospital Ship Dookie Happens stood at attention in their standard shipboard security gear. Light ceramic weave body armor and small arms. Both functional and suitable for a high ranking visitor's 'Honor Guard.' But they knew how General Grat felt about his bondmate. He usually had a few of his soldiers watching out for her when they were on different ships for a day or two. But today a Governor's personal guard were escorting both their Governor and their stricken Lady up for medical attention.

This was the mission. The cornerstone of why they were in this forsaken corner of the galaxy. But word was that there had already been some… misunderstandings. Everyone in the bay was nervous. If Governor Zim managed to get off their ship without blowing them all up by pressing the wrong button, there would be a celebration in the lower decks.

One of the troopers glanced out of the bay open bay doors at the other end of the chamber. The weak tractor fields kept the air from blowing out into space. The energy based airlocks was riskier than more traditional armored doors on battleline units. But it meant higher landing rates in times of high traffic for a support vessel like this one. Through the field he saw ten of the Earth fighters break formation from two shuttles and return to their patrol around the Earth ship off in the distance. "Here they come," he whispered to the soldier next to him.

General Grat stood at the head of the large bay. He bellowed an announcement. "Assembly, Governor and Lady boarding!"

The twin rows of Irken soldiers lining where the shuttles would park stood sharply, antennae held high. Rifles snapped as they were held out before them.

"I hate this," one of them mumbled. "Waste of time when we could be moving into our guard positions instead. You know. Accomplishing something."

"You're a moron," another whispered. "That's Zim we're talking about. We should be standing here with our rifles pointed at his head just so he doesn't touch anything. I for one don't want to get flushed out that airlock."

The two shuttles entered the bay through the tractor field that held the atmosphere inside the bay's open space doors. One a medical craft from the hospital vessel, the other an Assault Shuttle that came from the third planet and made a quick stop at the Earth ship. The Assault Shuttle landed first and in the lead position. The rear hatch dropped with a loud clang, and the Governor's personal guard began walking out.

With loud, thumping steps of powered armor. Heavy rifles leveled slightly down, but sweeping for threats. They wore, not the Irken reds and magentas, but blotched grey of various shades. Those Irkens eyes inside glared out of their faceplates. Twenty came out, all smallests. But no one was muttering or whispering. Not with those figures quickly taking position around the shuttles. They were not facing inward as an honor guard. They faced outward, ready for threats as a functioning guard. Ones who took their job seriously. Friendly or hostile areas did not matter. Both were considered equal ground.

One whispered. "Are those knives?" he asked another regarding the items strapped to their chest plates. These smallests must be nearly feral.

Then other footsteps were heard. Slower. Quieter. Heavier. Meatier. Figures appeared walking down the ramp. Tall figures. Bulky figures. Walking oddly and yet almost in a sinister way as they their gait rotated while walking in a straight line. Like walkers made of flesh. Sweeping their front around in all directions as they too scanned their surroundings along their course.

They didn't wear Irken infantry armor. They were too big to wear Irken infantry armor.

Several muted gasps were released at the unexpected sight. Humans.

There were four of them, wearing heavy helmets and thick upper body armor native to them. Hulking in their primitive composite vests it seemed. Compared to the Irken guard that came out before them, they seemed to ghost along in their grey fatigues.

It was the first time any of them had seen a human. They were primitive, lacking superior intelligence, technologically inferior. And yet…

The heavy weapons they carried were not. No unarmored Irken could lift one without powered armor. Or the fusion power cell one of them carried on his back. His plasma cannon was nearly an artillery piece for an Irken. That human held it in a two handed cradle. And his shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing his thick bare arms. Three others carried Irken riot control flechette launchers, thick belt fed multi-dart casings running in a chain through a chute and into a magazine tank they wore strapped to their backs. Those three alone could have cleared the bay of the Irken Honor Guard in a single sweep of sprayed razor sharp flechettes.

There was something incredibly unnerving about these primitive hulks wielding Irken heavy weapons as if they were small arms. What would they carry if these brutes wore powered armor?

The four humans didn't form their own position. They spread out to the four corners surrounding the shuttles. Serving as anchor points as those armored Irkens shifted closer to the corners.

Some of them may have thought something more as they formed up. The humans and the Irkens over there were cooperating in forming up joint species fire teams to keep the shuttles secure for their Governor and Lady. Those humans could sweep the area with fire, and those armored Irkens wouldn't even have to duck as they stood in front of the mini walkers of flesh and blood.

They had perhaps seen bigger aliens before. Taller or with more mass. Some had teeth. Some had claws. But never had they faced opponent backed by other Irkens and armed with Irken technology. It was this that made them seem like giants.

The medical shuttle opened it's hatch, and the visiting escorts snapped to attention. By flipping out their spider limbs from their PAKs, all pointed outward in display.

---

Zim appeared without paying attention to any of it. He walked down the ramp beside the hovering stretcher carrying Gaz wrapped in a magenta sheet, an IV bad laying on top and a large travel back resting on her legs. Intent on her condition. Two medical Irkens guided it along on it's repulsors as General Tak followed close behind.

General Grat met them as they approached. He was perturbed. They had come to lend assistance, and constantly met with an air of hostility. But he held his tongue in front of his troops.

Zim's party stopped in front of the General. The Governor spoke, surprising the General, for he did not speak as a Taller.

"Zim did not think even one Irken back home would have any concern for Zim's bondmate," he said. "Certainly not enough to come to her aid, even if we had asked. Yet you bring others too. Even though we were cast away from Irk as defects; even though I bonded with a human, you came to help us. Zim is… appreciative."

General Grat didn't say anything. Merely waved his hand toward the corridor leading deeper into the Hospital Ship.

As he lead the way, the medics guiding Gaz's stretcher and Zim alongside, Tak barked out to their escorts. "Alright troops. The show's over. First section with us. Gorilla squad, wait in the shuttle and keep it warm. The rest of you keep it secure until we return."

General Grat's troops, still in two lines running along either side of the shuttle bay, looked at each other briefly. That was a show? What would serious look like?

General Grat was walking with Zim and Tak as Gaz was floated in her stretcher down corridors within the large vessel. Five escorts of each party, theirs led by Colonel Beed, followed single file.

"You are very fortunate, Governor Zim," General Grat said as they traveled along. The walkways had been cleared of personnel previously, so there was no traffic to impede them. "A mercenary crew called in a favor I owed them. Had me hold position at the hypergate for a few days for their medic to arrive. Well, he's more than a medic. Full fledged expert. Programmed to be gifted even. At least in his narrow field. I should warn you. He is… not normal."

"How so?" Zim asked with a touch of annoyance. "Should he really be examining my Gaz-blossom?"

"If my bondmate were hurt, he's the one I would want working on her," Grat replied. "He just doesn't care about certain things an Irken should care about. But I suppose something had to be sacrificed for the medical expertise he has."

"And he will take excellent care of my mate? Even though she is not Irken?" Zim asked.

Grat nodded. "He'll take better care of her since she's a species he hasn't seen before. Exobiology fascinates him. Such a horrible subject, but I suppose someone has to do it. However, I do admit that it is useful for prisoners with valuable information. Can't let them die of wounds before they talk."

The General paused at a closed door. He announced himself. There was no answer. Then General sighed, calling upon the ship's computer to override the door to the room. It slid open silently, and the medics maneuvered Gaz's stretcher inside as the rest followed.

The large chamber was filled with rows of empty berths along one wall and banks of large scanning equipment and robotic operating tables. There was only one occupant as the party entered the specialized compartment.

"Medical Surgeon Mez, you could have opened the door," Grat said as they walked in.

He was an ordinary looking Irken, sitting in his chair with his chin raised as he examined data on a large row of displays above the workstation he occupied. He was accompanied by a robotic medical chest of some sort that just sat next to him. Mez did not turn his head to look at the newcomers.

"Yes, I could have. Did you know that humans have no real specialization like large fangs or claws, great strength or speed, yet have dominated over every species on their primitive planet that does? They're unique in that they should be classified as a generalist species, not excelling at anything. Yet it is not true. They specialize in out-enduring everything else. Going places and doing things a more specialized species can't. Enduring injuries that would kill other Earth lifeforms from shock alone. They had this thing where they would run down prey simply by constantly showing up until it dropped from exhaustion. One wonders what went wrong in their development. It's almost like they got bored one day and stopped trying."

"Your patient and her Irken bondmate have arrived," Grat told him as they approached.

This Mez removed himself from his chair and walked over to visually examine his patient. He held up one of her limp arms, examining her five blunt fingers. Then he examined the bag of clear liquid with a line running into a vein in her hand. "What is this?"

Zim answered quickly. "Water. Gaz-blossom's body will fail without it."

"I've seen stranger." The Irken doctor said, unimpressed. "And this human has worn a PAK for how long?"

"Eight days."

"I see. A permanent implantation for an alien would be most fascinating to examine. Well, let's get her in a bioscanner and have a- What is that smell?"

Zim reached for the travel bag at Gaz's feet as a sudden smell permeated the nearby space. "Gaz-blossom's diaper needs changing. The liquid diet has been making this more unpredictable lately."

Colonel Beed, who was leading their escort spoke up. "The Governor will require total privacy to clean his bondmate. General Tak? I believe you and General Grat were planning on a coordination meeting?"

General Grat's five escorts were looking at each other. Being elsewhere sounded like a the best idea ever.

Mez spoke up excitedly. "Wait! Save some for me. You wouldn't believe what you can learn about a species from just their excretions."

Zim gave the Irken a peculiar look. Somewhere between perplexed and disgusted. "I'll… let you have the whole diaper."

---

General Tak stood on the other side of the blank holo-table from General Grat. An anti-surveillance scrambler sat on the tabletop, humming ever so softly. They had relocated to this planning room and two Irken soldiers stood outside the doorway, preventing anyone from inadvertently disturbing a high level conference.

General Grat was speaking after holding in his own annoyance for a while now. "Your troops are acting irresponsibly. Overzealous in their… behavior. A bondmate was assaulted, and we came to lend assistance in supplying an answer to such an outrage. Yet we are confronted as if a potential enemy. They even stand hostile toward us. While standing with Humans."

"I admit, they were pouring in on a bit think coming aboard," Tak replied. "But you're an outsider here, General. You weren't here when Gaz was attacked. You weren't here scrambling to do anything possible to prevent what happened. Did not join them as part of the living barrier against what might have threatened her further. My humans not only have been training with them, but joined in responding to shield her from their own kind."

She leaned forward over the table. "They failed to protect their Lady, General. On a routine day. So yes, they are a bit excessive where she is concerned because they will not fail again. But I'm not surprised you don't get it. You've never been small, have you? Even though you are bonded to a smallest, you don't know what it is like. What this particular Governor's Own faces. Or what was given them."

Grat had been about to speak, but this past bit caused him to remain silent. No, he had never been small. Nor a Taller when he was given his first Voot Squadron assignment. But he had greater height than most within the rank and file. He may see how most Irkens viewed his bondmate, but that was not the same as facing it yourself all your life.

No, he did not understand. But his bondmate would.

Tak continued. "Lady Gaz does not care about height. Out here it does not matter. Her guard do not have to live with that stigma anymore. But everywhere else? Smallests aren't given respect. They are barely more than paid appliances. But these are their Lady's personal unit. A Governor's Own unit made up of smallests. Rejects at that. Many could probably be classified as Defects. Most everyone back on Irk would look at them as a cosmic punch line. Somewhere deep down in their PAKs they know they have to appear as intimidating and as dangerous as possible before any other impression can be made. Besides. You know how those units are. Not exactly known for moderation to begin with, and their Lady they are attached to is in a coma."

The other General nodded. It was not a concession, but a willingness to admit that any Governor's personal guards were a bit touched in the PAK.

"Alright. But what about you? You're arming the humans. They nearly fired on my Task Group with Irken manufacturing! I just saw four of them armed with Irken weapons on one of my own ships! I brought my munitions vessel to help replenish Governor Zim's stockpiles since Earth is so far away and Irk can't spare transports that would take months or even a year to get back. Not to mention keep us supplied as we return home. I was expecting remote defense platforms. Irken defenses. You're asking me to not only overlook it, but build the same munitions that I was nearly attacked with by and for another species! How do you justify that?"

Tak held up a hand. "I don't have to justify anything. This is protected space. By the Empire. Not that they would spare a single soldier to actually do anything. I should have ships and equipment pouring through the hypergate just like any other purposed world of the Empire. But not us. This world is a penal colony for the unwanted. Why would they send reinforcements if the Resisty, Planet Jackers, Meekrob or anyone else came? Maybe even other Irkens for all we know. We're alone out here, General. Seen as expendable. If someone came to exterminate us, Irk would see it as a being done a favor. Assuming they even noticed. Out here we are all we've got to rely on. If I have to recruit humans to help defend this planet, so be it.

"But no, we don't bring in anything that a smallest couldn't go and pick up off of any commercial repair catalogue. Heck, those are our main suppliers. Even Lady Gaz, being human and not programmed by the PAKs, abides by Irken mandates about supplying classified tech to her own species. So, no. I am not arming the human species with Irken military technology. I'm arming my select troops with what we can come up with using stuff our military doesn't care about. So as far as we're concerned, you have nothing to rightly complain about.

"Now I admit, those four humans with Irken heavy weapons was going a bit far. But I think you'll find that those particular weapons were just on loan to demonstrate a point. That we will do anything necessary if we have to. So don't make us."

Grat was nearly speechless. Tak spoke again. A softer tone this time. "General's discretion?"

The other General motioned his agreement. This discussion would stay in this room.

Tak ran her hand over her head as she stood in a slight slouch. Eyes slightly cast down in thought, feeling stressed and fatigued. "We Irkens are doing a mandated job proclaimed by the Tallests, and given nothing after being expelled. Most of what I have to work with is on loan from Zim and Gaz. I have a few dozen human pilots under my command to defend this whole star system. Every thing we have we pay for ourselves. I can't even train them myself. Not with… my medical condition. Not anymore. I have to settle for talking them through everything now. I can't demonstrate anything myself. I can't risk even demonstration hand-to-hand drills anymore. My PAK is degraded, and needs extensive maintenance every night just like a human does. So I can't be available like an Irken could. Both Zim and I have to balance a measure of fidelity to the Empire and being true to our human mates and our world here. And then Gaz was attacked. So don't judge us for doing what we need to do."

Her voice strained. "You think just being bonded to a smallest is tough? Try imaging being bonded to a human. To share something amazing and wonderful and special with someone so deserving of it. Yet my own kind wouldn't hesitate to condemn me for what I have with my husband; while he didn't condemn me for my failed attempt against his planet. My human mate saved me from the torture and near insanity I suffered, after my own kind dumped me in Dirt's sewage zone where I had to hunt and eat meat for years to survive. My Dib accepted me as his future mate even though I was an alien when he found me, brutalized like I was. Took me into his human family as his Irken wife. And still takes care of me every day."

General Grat looked at her with wide eyes. Being a General in a war zone was not an easy thing to shoulder. Not if you were worth anything, and few really were. But this one standing before him- What she had to shoulder…

Tak seemed to come back to her senses. She hadn't meant to say so much. "I did not mean to go off like that, General. There was no disrespect intended. Humans with my condition have something called 'mood swings.' Apparently I'm not immune to them either. And after what I suffered, being among my own kind is stressful. I cannot forget my experience of being forced to become a meat eater."

General Grat raised both hands with his palms faced outward. This General Tak had met her breaking point and had come back from it. Some soldiers never did. "And you are still loyal," he commented.

Tak shrugged her shoulders. "I guess that depends on what loyal means. We aren't disloyal. We can't betray the Empire anymore than you could. But we were cast out as unwanted. The Tallest declared this a world a 'Refuge Preserve.' It is, but not only for the humans native to this place. We are of Irk, but Earth is our home planet now. If some Irken decided that this Refuge Planet under Irken protection should be a target planet instead, we would see it as their betrayal and burn their ships from the sky when they came for us. Maybe we would be seen as traitors, but what would being named traitors by a traitor make us?"

General Grat decided he did not want to go down that philosophic path of twisting viewpoints with no solid answer. He flicked the holo-table on to display a view of the solar system's inner planets and asteroid ring.

"My Task Force can't stay long. Two, maybe three weeks at most. With a six month travel route back to Irk space, I can't put it off for long. The Drops Flat and her armor battalion got unspecified leave somehow. They can stay longer, and wish to meet with Governor Zim about what they should do. Rock Smiter is non-military and smelters are used to making their own schedules. But Meekrob space has extended a small arm out along our return course in the past few years. If those ships stay longer they will need an escort."

General Tak nodded, her posture straight once more in her role. "I'll have to get in contact with Governor Skoodge. See what he's got in the works. It won't be much."

Grat scratched his chin. "Alright. Leave that for later. Rock Smiter wants to start prospecting over here in sector seven-zero-three. They've never seen an untouched field before. Then if you feel you can share specifications, I'll authorize Detonation to begin ordinance fabrication. But nothing military spec, mind you. Megastorage has supply shuttles to start loading. First up is some test gear from your Governor Skoodge. And once we get those details sorted out, I want you to tell me about this thing called 'Flak.' You may have to settle for rudimentary supplies, but I don't. I'm curious as to what an Irken military version would do."

---

Gaz was out of sight, cocooned within the ovoid capsule that hummed and spilt bright light out of the seams. Except for the two Irkens, one sitting at the controls with a robotic medical chest laying at his heels and the other one standing, the large room was empty. Spaces and equipment for dozens of patients and medics, but dedicated for a single one.

The sitting Irken was clicking his segmented tongue and shaking his head. "This is such a hatchet job." He pointed as a display of the human's skull. "Look! You just punched a hole in her frontal bone to inject the oxynano. A bit of bone is still wedged in there between the inner curve and membrane layers! And don't get me started on the micro-fractures radiating out from the puncture site. If that kit wasn't as automated as it was, you probably would have killed her stabbing it into her brain like that. Then these rib fractures-"

"For that last time, she was already dead!" Zim protested. "We only had a few minutes to bring her back!"

"With only basic first aid kits and most were human ones at that. I heard you the first six times," Mez returned. "Just look at her spinal column! Next time you feel like tinkering with your bondmate, at least do it in a lab with robotic support."

That last comment stung, and bad memories resurfaced. "Zim never wanted to do this," Zim stated quietly.

The other Irken eyed him silently, then redirected his attention back to the images and close-ups arrayed before him. "You didn't even remove the oxynano. They are still wedged in her brain. Well, at least they are dormant." More buttons were clicked and pressed. "All those incisions are healing. The cauterized punctures in her chest were sealed well. That will heal on its own also, but the scar tissue will run deep within. It will be better left alone. She will have those marks permanently."

Mez stretched his arms. "Minor issues. I will transport the remaining bone fragments and oxynano out of her body. No need to go cutting into her like some amateurs who will go nameless."

Zim just growled.

"The skull fracture is mild. Three months to heal, but as long as she doesn't smack her forehead into something she will be well enough. Her vertebrae? Two more weeks minimum to fuse back together, but the joining material will hold everything in place until then. Four to be sure that those bones can take the weight she exerts. The ribs? Perhaps a month. I'll run an analysis and give you a list of components to increase in her diet."

Zim wasn't too happy. "I thought you were able to do something significant!"

Mez just looked at him. "You mean fill her with technology, replace damaged bones with composite duranium ones? Force accelerated healing? That sort of thing? It is not like she's an Irken who lost a limb or something simple like that where I could just graft a new one on. Everything I could do for a typical Irken would have to be adapted to use on humans first. Or do you want her flesh to mutate and grow tumors and lesions? Risk tissue rejection from her own immune system? Most everything here is fairly minor. Something she is capable of recovering from on her own."

He brought up another view on the displays before him. "Especially considering her body is already starting to undergo its transformation for its new mission. I have studied this replication phenomena in other species. It would be unwise to adjust it with our superior tools and methods when we do not know how her system would react to it."

Zim's eyes grew wide. "You- you know?"

Mez looked at him with a puzzled expression. "What? You think I'm so terrible at this I wouldn't notice that she is carrying two smeets? That a hospital ship that may have to deal with alien contaminants, weaponized parasites, and biowarfare agents would have equipment so inferior that the bioscanner would fail to pick up a foreign genetic pattern? Really?"

The Irken waved it off, as if it didn't matter. "It will be interesting to observe the process. I have never seen it with two identical genomes before. Do you suppose they would be telepathic? Or would it just seem that way because they are exact copies of each other?"

"It doesn't bother you that I- I started smeets with my mate? Even though I am Irken and she is Human?"

The Irken just scoffed. "Why? I didn't do anything. And it will make an excellent addition to my private case studies. I have the rarest collection in the Empire you know. Now, let's move on to her PAK."

General Grat was right. This Irken was… not normal.

---

Gaz was laying face up on a padded examination platform and covered with an Irken sheet. Zim was standing next to her holding her limp hand. Under her was an opening for her PAK to stick through, and her spider legs and other attachments were spread out underneath with several cables snaking back in and leading back to a row of computers and other equipment. A deep tissue scanning shield covered her head while a larger rectangular device hung above her body from overhead arms. There was a lot of humming and lights flashing at the moment.

"This is a complete mess," Mez commented. "I can't believe you did this. You really thought that a PAK could properly function without an integral part like a Memory Core? Without a personality? It is a good thing she is comatose or she probably would have gone insane from all the error messages running round in there. By the way, I hear your PAK could use a tune up."

"Shut up," Zim snapped back. He didn't like being reminded that he had a flaw or two. "You aren't going to replace that chip. I want my Gaz-blossom back. Not some Irken personality wearing her body. Try it and I'll kill you."

Mez just grunted. "Fine. I'll get to making a bypass chip when we're done here. Plus neutralize the high level inhibitors and programming. But there is a lot of work to do right now. Your mate's physiology is very complex with so many organs and nerves running around everywhere. On the surface it looks fine, and it works well enough to keep her alive. It is almost adequate on the micro level where your Computer clearly made adjustments and connected nerve endings and attached to various nodes in her organs.

"But on the nanoscale her installation still needs work. Especially up in her brain. Just plugging a PAK into an Irken may work, but installing one into another species for a lifetime of seamless integration like us? That is more of an art than a science. Then there is reprogramming, and uploading the Nanite Control Module with her DNA so they will maintain her various organs' genome rather than repair it as Irken. That would only cause a massive outbreak of tumors and lesions and eventually causing her body to fail."

He looked up to see Zim fretting, looking down at his human mate. Maybe he didn't know about the nanites. A lot of the PAKs inner workings on the programming and nano level intricacies were heavily classified and guarded with security measures.

"Even when I was trying to conquer Earth I wasn't crazy enough to let loose nanites I couldn't directly pilot myself."

"Governor. She will be fine. Better than fine in fact. No damage was done to her mind, and the Nanite Control Module was tied into the memory core of the Personality Chip. It is only meant to repair genetic degradation from cosmic rays and free radicals we're exposed too in space. They have no programming themselves, and are inert a few feet from their control module. Extremely limited. Your mate won't melt from a nanite malfunction.

"And her PAK? The PAK just isn't fully integrated yet. It was probably a good thing. Both Gaz and the PAK have to adjust to functioning as one. They have had time, and there is integration. With her comatose, the two parts are able to ease into it rather than fight their way through. She's had time to learn and get used to it on a subconscious level. It is just that the job needs to be finished by an expert, like me. Give me two days, and no one will be able to tell she was never meant for a PAK. She is in the best place she could be."

Zim nodded, never taking his gaze from his sleeping wife.

"The Nanite Control Module will have to be shut down while she carries the smeets. I don't know what will happen if-"

---

Tak sat with her legs dangling over the edge of the padded recovery table across from the one Gaz lay in. They both had their PAKs open with cables plugged into machines that sat underneath them.

She had gotten Zim's call while she was still coordinating with General Grat, and had ran at a frantic pace down to this medical bay with the other General following. But it turned out there had been no danger to her smeet. The time spent on Dirt eating meat, suffering such burns for that horrendous period of time had all but eliminated the genome repairing nanites from her system. The few that were left were still centralized in her digestive tract.

Tak warily, and perhaps a bit sheepishly, eyed General Grat. "Don't look at me like that. I'm pregnant, not some monster."

The General sputtered. "But- but- but how? You're Irken. It's impossible."

Mez spoke up without looking up from his Pad. "Oh, I can assure you that it is quite possible. The General here is the only Irken I've ever examined that has an actual egg sac. It is quite fascinating. You must tell me. Are you functional like some primitive-"

"Finish that question and I'll beat you to death with your own PAK," Tak growled.

Mez made a note on his Pad. "I'll take that as a yes. So what made you decide to bear a smeet with your mate?"

Tak shot the medic with a rather vile look. "All I want from you is to tell me if my smeet is okay. What happens between me and my husband is none of your business."

Mez appeared disappointed. "The smeet will be fine in your egg sac. Once it hatches I make no guarantees. The Governor's computer can shut down the nanite control module completely during your next maintenance cycle once I give it the proper instructions. But my protocols will only allow it to make changes at your request. But you should let me adjust your PAK. Install replacement nanites. You won't have another opportunity once I depart."

"No," Tak said flatly and immediately. "No one touches my PAK. My husband and I will complete his lifespan before my genome suffers degradation. I won't live long enough for it to matter. Are we done here?"

At the medical expert's nod, Tak pulled the cables away from her PAK and closed it up. "Governor Zim? I believe I need to return home."

"Have the Assault Shuttle take you back. I need a few days of supplies for Gaz-blossom brought up anyway," he told her.

---

Tak walked down the corridor back to the shuttle bay. She heard footsteps behind her, but didn't turn back to look.

"Are you going to arrest me?" she asked.

General Grat caught up and walked beside her. "I believe this is Governor Zim's jurisdiction. He would just overrule me."

Tak continued walking. Grat spoke again. "Why don't you want your PAK repaired? No one can fix programming defects or a damaged Personality Chip. I didn't know it was possible, but if maybe other minor components-"

Tak muttered under her breath. "What? You care? I'm an Irken who bonded to a human. And, oh yes, he got me pregnant. A one in a trillion shot, and we hit the target our first time."

She took a breath as they continued walking and let it out slowly. "I didn't ask for any of this, you know. But I wouldn't give any of it up for anything. I have a life worth living now, and I don't want to go back. I don't want to be 'fixed.'"

They reached the shuttle bay, and Tak looked around. She knew the other General didn't understand. "I may be Irken too, but I don't belong here. I belong with the humans stuck on their primitive planet in the middle of nowhere."

Tak dealt with things and conditions he knew he couldn't possibly understand. He didn't have answers himself. Not the same as withholding judgment, but the lack any other alternatives she could have come up with. "How long do you have?" Grat asked.

She knew he wasn't asking about her due date. "Perhaps eight decades if we are fortunate. But it is rare for humans to live a whole century, so more like six or seven."

General Grat looked at her astonished. Irken lifespans were measured in centuries. It was one thing for that to be cut short in a war zone, but because it was natural for your bondmate to have a short life?

"I never thought about that," he told Tak. "I am very protective of my bondmate, and often send her to tend the snack machines on a nearby support vessel when my flagship goes on ahead during an attack. Her height bars her from military duty…"

Tak nodded, understanding what he didn't know how to ask. "I've thought about it a lot lately. I told Dib that I'm going to remove my PAK when he finishes his lifespan. I don't want to go out like a crazed animal because I outlived him by a few days."

It was General Grat's turn to nod in thought. "I see. Perhaps I will stop arguing with her. Anyway, I wouldn't trade places with you even to be Tallest."

"And I wouldn't give it you either," she replied as she turned and stepped toward her shuttle.

---

The Irken in charge of the overhaul crew looked up at the Taller as they stood above the giant repair slip which housed the large bulbous transport. "I'm sorry, Taller Gwe. Governor Skoodge has been most insistent about this. The previous Governor cut safety standards for ship overhauls to please other Tallers. Governor Skoodge believes it is more important to keep you alive when these ships leave our yards. That means we have to check them thoroughly and return them to optimum condition."

"But this is an outrage!" the Taller squawked. "My crew says there is nothing wrong with my ship!"

"With all due respect, your crew keeps the ship going while on their missions. We expertise in overhauling them from top to bottom on their return. It is not the same thing. But not to worry. I have called the Governor, and he will be arriving shortly."

The Taller grimaced. "But I can't wait around for a year for my ship to get patched up! Read the report again! It can't be that bad."

The overhaul supervisor sighed. "It's an old ship, Taller Gwe. Overhauls, not to mention repairs as extensive as this will naturally take longer." He looked down at the Pad he held as the Taller did not accept this.

"In addition to the standard overhaul required by established design parameters, hull testing of the Combat Troop Transport Descending Fate shows buckling at frame three hundred twelve on the outer hull, running from the lower engine mount down to the landing strut housing. This requires possible removal of suspect hull plate and inspection of underlying frame structures due to the possibility of collapse of rear left quadrant during it's next combat landing. Then undergo ship trials for recertification. As this is directly below the number one engine housing, severe damage upon hull collapse during a hard landing while under fire-"

"Is there a problem?" Skoodge asked, appearing suddenly.

The Taller looked down on the short and wide Irken. "And who are you?" he sneered.

"Let's ask the computer. Computer, who am I?"

The planetary computer droned out the answer. "Governor Skoodge, conqueror of Blorch."

"But- but."

"But what?" Skoodge asked politely. "Are you saying I didn't call in the Armada and survive the Organic Sweep to be awarded this Governorship?"

Skoodge could see the thought run past by the look in the Taller's eye. He didn't say attended the Organic Sweep. He said survived an Organic Sweep.

"It's just that my ship looks fine. We just came in for a routine overhaul. Now I'm told my ship will be held up for a year!"

"I examined the report myself, as I do all such reports that greatly exceed their original estimates. Suspecting excessive microfractures around landing struts of ships making combat landings is, for an older vessel, is not unreasonable. Nor are they visible. If one of his people scanned one that is significant enough to be noticeable, it is their duty to ground the ship until it is space worthy again. It is very possible that they will have to tear down that whole quadrant and replace the frames themselves, and that is a huge job."

Skoodge eyed the Taller's expression. "I already notified a control brain of this development. You should be assigned a new ship in a day or two. I'm sure a newer vessel is more suited for an Irken of your stature."

The Taller walked off, satisfied with the outcome. Skoodge turned to the overhaul supervisor. "What kind of hull testing did you do?" he inquired.

"Well, one of my people tripped and dumped his cart of tools off the catwalk and down the side of the ship. I think it creased the paint in a spot or two. But the manual says to inspect buckling for suspected structural fatigue. So we've scheduled for that contingency. Just like the manual says."

Governor Skoodge clasped his hands behind him, and eyed the supervisor from antennae to toe. "Very well then, supervisor. Carry on."

With that he walked off.

The supervisor returned to his work with a whistle. This was the easiest hundred monies he and his crew were ever going to make in their lifetime.

---

Two brown cars drove into the giant warehouse's open service door, despite it being locked at the end of that day. But locks were easy to pick, and building security involved a sign that read "Security On Duty" and some rather large rats. Neighboring buildings were far off due to the expansive parking lot for long distance trucking. As long as nothing went missing from this location, it was a secure place to meet.

Six men exited the cars where another six waited next to the back of a white box truck and a similarly colored minivan. Uncounted stacks of large crates arranged in deep rows ran along all the walls in wide columns. One of the six that approached the other group carried two black suitcases.

This one spoke to the other man ahead of him as they both stepped forward and shook hands. "Morning, Ralph. Heard you boss found himself some attention. Stirred up a whole heap of trouble."

Their voices echoed in the expanse, despite the volume of inventory taking up space. "Nah, that was Tinkle's crew. Last I heard they were holed up in a hotel crying like mamma's boys. What's left of them, that is. Good riddance, I say. You knew them, Chan. No finesse at all."

"Yeah, not my problem. You have the goods?"

The back of the box van was slid open by associates to reveal two large pallets of small boxes bound in plastic wrap. "Yep. Two pallets of prescription painkillers. Seemed to have fallen off of a truck four nights ago."

The one named Chan opened up each the suitcases on the ground, showing Ralph the money. Satisfied, he tossed the other man a set of keys and picked up the suitcases. "Pleasure doing business with you, as always."

They were startled as several columns of crates on one side of the warehouse toppled down. Two sets of enforcers from both sides spread out to encircle the spot, brandishing tire irons. "Come on out!" one of them commanded.

A large metal foot, attached to a large heavily armored leg whined out of the shadow of the collapsed pile of crates, crushing one into splinters as it stepped down. Then the rest of the red and magenta hulk stepped out. All twelve feet of bipedal armor.

As the men just stared with open mouths, one of it's arms raised and send a pulse as bright as the sun into the engine of the lead car.

From behind came sounds from several sources. Thew-thew-thew-thew.

Men started to fall slowly, uncomprehendingly. Ralph felt a prick in his back. He reached back as his legs started to wobble. His hand returned with an long thin object. It appeared to be an animal dart.

Then he collapsed.

A few minutes later small figures came down from on top of the stacks of crates. They examined their handiwork.

"All that effort, for this?" one of them asked. "We could have done it without the Recon Walker. It took four hours to hide it!"

"Yeah," said the driver as he opened up the cockpit and looked down at them. "But we wouldn't have gotten their expressions on camera. Put that vehicle fire out before someone notices the building is catching fire."

"You're the one who started it with that plasma cannon!"

"I used minimum power. Besides, their expressions were worth it. Let's get this done and back to base. I can't wait to show you."

---

Nick stepped out to get his morning paper, sipping his morning tea. He did so at the crack of dawn before anyone else could swipe the best one. He stopped, choking on the hot liquid.

Before him lay a haphazard pile of sleeping bodies with several darts sticking in many of them. A red flag was planted in the middle of them, waving in the breeze. It had a strange emblem on it. Geometric shapes, all black, arranged to form a silhouette that looked like the face of an anteater crossed with an ant.

He made a quick call on his cell phone. It wouldn't do for this to be seen by the neighbors. People would start asking questions. But someone had thrown down a gauntlet in a way that was beyond the doubt of the most brainless king of morons. And it was literally on his front doorstep.

---

The sound of computerized whirs, beeping equipment and the scuffling of feet grew louder. The smell of reticulated air. A pain of a stiff neck. The taste of plastic. A tickle in the back of the throat.

A labored, restricted cough. Slightly hollow sounding as if through a pipe.

Gaz opened her eyes, then squeezed them shut again when they watered at the bright light above her. She groaned, but it sounded weak to her ears. Gosh, what time is it?

11:23:07.34am. Entered into her consciousness.

Feels too early, she thought as her blanket tickled her chin.

"Gaz?"

She tried to answer.

"Don't talk," Dib's voice answered. "You have a tube protecting your airway. Just give me a second."

She felt a tissue blot at her eyes, then opened them once more. Squinting at the brightness.

Gaz moved to pull the tube from her mouth.

Nothing. Nothing but a click and whir behind her. And a thunk. She felt a vibration travel up a table leg and into her head.

Dib, with an extremely relieved and yet worried expression, entered her view. "Okay, don't try to move. When I pull, blow out hard. Okay?"

The tubes came out, with Gaz coughing. It was so uncomfortable, and her throat was parched. She tired to sit up. And found she couldn't respond.

"Dib?" she asked, becoming afraid.

Her brother reached over and grasped her hand. Gaz swiveled her head around, confused. Her things were here, but it wasn't her room. Her eyes were still blurry. Then she looked at her hand that was being held.

"Dib? I can't feel my hands. Or my legs. I- I can't feel anything."

"It's alright. It is only temporary until your spinal cord calms down. There was a lot of swelling and inflammation. But it's getting better. You hear me?"

Gaz nodded, trying not to freak out. Trying to pull her world back together.

"Do you remember what happened?" her brother asked.

Gaz began to shake her head. Then a crystal clear memory of pain before she blocked it out. A few more images leaked though her mind.

"My last memories are really fuzzy. A bit jumbled. But I remember I was incredibly stupid."

She shook it off, embarrassed and angry that her pride in herself had gotten her in this position. Then another memory fragment. One of fire and screams.

"Zim!" she cried. "Where's Zim? Please tell me he didn't go rampaging. He's still alive, right?"

Dib reached up with both hands and cupped her face. "He's out in the hall. He didn't do anything like that. His focus was on saving you. It was always on you, Gaz. He's just afraid you'll leave him."

Annoyance flashed up. "I'm paralyzed! How am I going to leave?"

Dib looked away. "He had to make some decisions for you, Gaz. Some difficult ones."

Gaz closed her eyes, organizing her thoughts. Clearing her mind.

"Gaz," Dib said quietly. "You were in a coma for three and a half weeks."

She squeezed her closed eyelids harder and took in a breath through her nose, biting her lower lip. "How bad was it?"

There wasn't an answer right away. Gaz opened her eyes and saw the far away vacant look in Dib's eyes. They flashed back to the present and at his sister.

"Zim brought you home. You were in cardiac arrest. Gaz, you… you were gone."

Gaz grew silent at hearing this. I- I… died?

"You suffered nerve damage around your heart. It's bad, Gaz. If something doesn't beat your heart for you…" he didn't finish the sentence.

Gaz took this in. It was a lot to take in. She had always been strong. Tough. Self reliant. Now? Now she couldn't beat her own heart to stay alive. A head on an inert body.

She had been that close to not coming back.

She looked around once more, focusing on her surroundings. Large displays brightened the room beyond her immediate surroundings. They were familiar, not a hospital room.

But Dib was here. Her posters were up on the walls. She was covered in her favorite blankets. She looked back at the computer displays.

They flowed with Irken glyphs.

Base reports. Power consumption. Maintenance upkeep. A hundred and one little housekeeping chores.

She could read them. No. She couldn't. She didn't know Irken. But she could understand it. She couldn't read it, but she knew what it read.

Gaz looked at Dib with wide eyes. "I'm in Zim's base. Right?" She looked down at the blankets covering her. She couldn't see herself. "I'm still me, Right? Zim didn't do something stupid and stick my head on a robot body. Right?"

She felt a flash of anger when Dib laughed. "No. You're all there. You're just not wearing anything but a diaper right now."

Gaz felt relief. Then embarrassment. She felt her cheeks flush.

She couldn't even go to the bathroom anymore. She needed someone to take care of that for her. To clean and wash her.

She looked back at Dib. He nodded. "Zim's been at your side the whole time. Took good care of you, Gaz. You would be proud of him." He spoke up in a louder voice that was directed out into the hall. "But a certain Irken out there is too paranoid to see that."

She blinked away some more tears. "Sorry, Dib. I'm trying to pull things together. I guess that means that Zim…"

Dib nodded. "It's alright. He's your husband. Has been for quite a while."

Gaz let it go for the moment. "So I'm in Zim's lab. Hooked up to life support. Attached to machines for the rest of my life? Will I be able to leave this table?"

"Hey! It's not that bad," Dib reassured his sister. "Once you get your feeling back, you can be as mobile as you always were. You'll just have to take it easy and relearn how to move around. Well, and do something about backrests on the furniture. And your all your clothes with need major altering."

"You're not telling me something. What is it?" Gaz saw the hesitation in his eyes. "Tell me."

"I have to show you," Dib told her. "Zim should do this, but he's a bit freaked out right now. I don't blame him, since he doesn't know if you'll… split up. They know humans don't always stay together."

"Zim!" Gaz called. "Zim come in here!"

"No!" came an echoing voice from the corridor outside. "Not until you forgive Zim!"

She looked at her brother. He nodded. "How you'll respond has been eating at him for three weeks, Gaz. His brain can't let go of it now that he's facing it. He already almost lost you once. I don't think he's up to facing it again."

"Dib?"

"Your injuries weren't that bad. But the treatment… Zim put a crack in your forehead to inject nanoprobes generating oxygen inside your brain to buy time. You went through at least three surgeries. You have two puncture wounds in your chest, and about twenty small scars along your back and neck. They had to make modifications to your spine to fit everything without permanent paralysis. So when you get your feeling back, you may feel some pressure from an enlarged spinal column. Back pain and will probably need physical therapy to regain your mobility and strength."

"Dib I get it. I was hurt bad. But-"

"Let me roll you over for a minute."

Gaz nodded and Dib reached under and pushed his sister on her side, careful not to spill her onto the floor.

"Uh, Gaz? I need you to not freak out when you see this. You could slice me up pretty good if you move wrong."

"What are you talking about! I can't move at all, Dib. Just my head."

A Pad was held in her view one handed. "Uh, Computer? Can you show Gaz the security feed? Close up?"

The Pad blinked to life, zoomed in on Gaz. Showing her bare back that she couldn't see or feel. Well, not entirely bare.

She gasped at the sight. The Irken PAK was open, with two spider limbs hanging out. Attached to her back. With nothing external holding it in place. In shock she reached out, forgetting she couldn't move her arms. Two metal limbs extended around and grasped the Pad before her, not only on the Pad's display, but in her own vision as well.

She was… was… She didn't know what she was.

She heard Dib gulp. Those arms were awful close to him. "Gaz. Keep calm, and concentrate on retracting them back into your PAK. I don't want to get impaled with one because you lashed out in panic."

Slowly, the arms retracted. Like hugging yourself, only if your head was on backward. Gaz was laid back down on her back, her PAK sticking out of the opening below in the table.

"I see," Gaz said. "I'm… not completely human anymore."

"Sure you are," Dib said. "You just have-"

"You don't know squat," Gaz spat. "I already have information popping into my head, Dib. It's translating Irken straight into my brain. Remembering things for me. Those arms are more a part of my body than my body is right now!"

Dib went silent. Gaz took several breaths. "I'll be okay. It's just a lot to take in all at once. One moment I'm in an alley, the next I'm here. Part humans, part appliance."

"Maybe that's enough for today."

"Wait! There's more?"

"Gaz! Stay calm. Your spine isn't fully healed yet. Zim! Get in here. Stop using me as a meat shield! She's your wife!"

"She's your sister!" came the echoed response through the open doorway. "It's okay if she rejects you!"

"Dib, how much more is there? Am I brain dead? Am I just a ghost inside this PAK? Am I just a computer program that thinks I'm me?"

Dib turned his attention back to Gaz before her imagination could cause her to freak out to the point where she would have to be sedated. "No! No! Nothing like that. Your PAK is modified to just support you. It's just... Gaz. You wanted this, but not yet. You and Zim were going to get settled first. Gaz... You were dying. You made Zim promise something."

Gaz froze, looking at him. "I- that part is a bit…"

She tried to remember. And suddenly there it was. She blinked back hard, pushing it back down. She opened her eyes and looked up at Dib. He nodded. She swiveled here head around. She must be in the medical chamber. Then she saw it. But the smeet chamber was empty. The top lid sliced off and laying there on the floor.

Gaz looked back at her brother. She wasn't sure what to think. It was too much to take in.

She croaked out for her husband. "Zim? Please, come in."

"Do you forgive me?" called the voice.

"Zim, I'm having trouble with this. Please? I need you."

Zim timidly walked into the chamber. Gaz went to lift up her hand. A whir was heard behind her again as a metal limb began to extend.

"Dammit!" Gaz cried as she burst into tears. She couldn't even reach out her fleshly hand to her husband.

Zim was at her side, holding her limp hand. Blotting at her tears with a tissue, his wife dependant on him to do it for her.

"Zim, I'm a mess right now. I'm sorry. Please stay with me. I'm trying to get my head around it. I know it's too much too soon, but I have to know. Zim, please tell me what happened."

Zim leaned down close to Gaz's face, still clutching her hand. "Zim kept his promise. Did not wait. But there was a problem with the smeet chamber. It wasn't going to work."

Gaz's heart sunk. That little girl was gone? The genetic blueprint in picture form that she had come to view as her future daughter was gone? Tears crept down Gaz's cheeks.

Zim continued to speak. "Zim had already modified you so much already. To save you, to keep you alive. But you were not awake to agree to anything. Could not speak for yourself. Could not give consent. You do not forgive these things."

Gaz, bewildered and confused, looked at Dib. He was holding her other hand, and she couldn't even tell when he had picked it up.

"She's… she's not gone?" Gaz asked.

Dib smiled. "No. Not she. They. Both of them had a change of address, that's all." He laid her hand down on the blanket where her belly was. "Congratulations, Gaz. I bet you're going to be a great mom."

Gaz broke out in a flood of tears now. It was so much to take in. Her whole existence had changed in the blink of an eye. Her vision was completely blurred, and couldn't see a thing.

"Zim, are you still holding my hand? I can't tell."

"Yes, Gaz-blossom. Zim is still with you."

Tissues were again dabbed at her eyes. "I'm- I'm pregnant? With two of her? Twins? They are okay?"

"They are fine and healthy. Do you forgive Zim?"

Oh, she wanted to smack him. "Zim, you idiot. You did good. You saved me. Saved her. Them. Whatever. But I'm not going to be easy. I've hated being weak, and now I'm completely helpless. I'm going to be difficult. And I think I'm already having mood swings. Just stay with me, Zim. I need you, and will always need you."

Dib laughed a little. "Gaz, we practically needed a crowbar to pry him away to deal with anything but you."

He stood up and stretched his legs. "You've had a rough awakening, Gaz. What do you say we get you home and settled in so you can take it easy? You have a lot to wrap your head around."

Gaz looked around. At the lab here in Zim's base. The weird Irken structure and equipment that were strangely familiar now. Her important belongings and favorite things arrayed around her. The select posters up on the wall next to her. Her GameSlave IV waiting off to one side on a tray with a collection of old favorites.

She looked at Zim. Once seen as a hopelessly stupid alien. Then her friend. Who quickly became her husband whom she loved despite his flaws. More than even that now. Now Zim was the father of her children. The one she chose.

Gaz turned her head to look up at her brother. "Dib? I think I am home."

Dib nodded a saddened nod with closed eyes after a moment. "Okay, Gaz. I'll check in after skool tomorrow. You take care." And with that Dib left the room to go back to his own home.

Zim looked down into his wife's eyes, and she looked back in return. She made a teary sniff. "Zim?" she asked.

"Yes, Gaz-blossom?" Zim asked in return joyfully. His wife would stay with him. Share this base. This home.

"Zim? I think I just wet the bed."