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.

31. Chapter 29

A/N: Once again I must thank you fantastic reviewers. Zerg170, CatGirlFireflare, Historia70, coldblue, golddragonriderkira, Zekiev Clayton-Zolnerowich, labreck01, MajorDarkblade, fray100, 6TheCrookedMan9, wolfmoonshadow, coldblue, memmek10k, Tigersfury, Someone, Lord Sergeant Sarcasm, Guest, FoxOwne, Fireheart1331, and dreamer5009.

Last minute inserted note: I'm soooooory! I have been working on this off and on for the last several months. It was very difficult for a long time. Getting into a mindset to write this chapter was a real challenge for a long time. With my own experiences in dealing with PTSD, I have a lot of memories too. Fortunately nothing like what was written here, but memory is memory. My brain really did not want to go back there getting 'inspired.' Then there were a lot of commitments cropping up; a friend coming over to raid my fridge and steal writing time to watch anime marathons. Online brainstorming committees and tiger teams for hashing out other people's ideas and such for later when a certain video game launches (Yes, we're already planning a massive community event in-game to stress test the servers).

To those who have PM'ed me. Thanks for showing your continued interest. Both in the story and my own welfare. It is appreciated. –End of last minute insert.

No it's not a mistake: Because of naming conventions, Irkens would address Gaz as 'Lady Gaz,' while the humans would address her in public as 'Lady Membrane' while amongst other humans. Just another detail for me to keep track of. Ugh!

Important Note: What is written is not the recommended way to treat PTSD. Do not try this at home. Go outside first.

Coldblue: For your first question, Fray's parallel story is entitled "Exiles Sanctuary," which has the initial chapter up. But at the moment he has Real Life things to deal with. I will probably add it (and any others like it) to my favorites once it is further along. As it is his story I try to just take a backseat to offer advice, proofreading, and 'reality' checks for universe consistency. I had a lot of freedom to write this story, so I feel others should have plenty of freedom to expand on it as well without some backseat writer looking over their shoulder.

I've had other good suggestions for further down the timeline or in other parts of the galaxy. My response is that those with the inspiration for the plot idea should be the one to write it. I think a major fraction of writing is the inspiration and spirit behind the effort, rather than raw talent. I see it in my own work here. Plus I cannot capture another person's inspiration behind the idea. No matter how much talent you awesome reviewers claim I have. So I merely will consult if requested. My only real sticklers are keeping things consistent between stories and leaving room for others to expand on as well (Meaning Zim and Gaz cannot conquer the universe or vice versa. At least for the next century or two anyway.)

As for the second (and third) question. That is really up to Fray, and I believe he will do so. But I don't want to spoil the plot. I've merely laid the foundation with Gaz's PAK for a more widespread solution to be invented. And you are right. Their eventual grandchildren and immediate descendants would have longer lifespans as well.

Now as to Gaz's new lifespan. Fray and I compromised so that an Irken's "natural" (if anything about Irkens can be said to be natural anymore) would be between 400-500 Earth years. Assuming nothing bad happens which seems unlikely. Now Gaz's expected lifespan is 200 or so. I feel this is balanced because nature has a way of pushing back when one pushes it too far. And it will allow Zim and Tak to reach a major portion of their expected lifespan (relatively speaking).

The solution involves the Genome Repair Nanites in each Irken PAK. Rather than change a person's DNA (which could eventually be fatal if not perfectly completed system wide. And yes, I know Dib and Zim were once turned into bologna. But I see a lot of cancer potential instead), it would repair the host's genome.

I'm going with a really over-simplified version of how cells copying and replacing themselves break down over time. Making copies of copies of copies introduces DNA replication errors into the process. These become magnified as more and more errors are copied into replacement cells. Eventually the body can't regenerate itself any more. So this solution is like making copies of copies with a Xerox machine. You take the latest copy, and touch it up with a pen or eraser to clean up and refine the image closer to what it originally was. Then proceed with the process. It won't stop the degradation, but will keep it going much longer.

---

"No!" Zim stated absolutely.

Gaz was back home and they were down in the human bathroom adjacent to their subterranean bedroom. Gaz's wheelchair was tilted back so her head hung over the bathtub and Zim's rubber gloved hands were carefully rubbing her soapy scalp.

The human girl glared up at him with cross eyes. "What do you mean 'no?' Just because I'm your wife and stuck in this chair doesn't mean you can order me around."

Zim growled in frustration. "Zim meant exactly what Zim said. K-N-O-W. No. And can't you make your hair behave?"

Gaz let out her own growl. "That's not how you spell no, my hair is not anything like tentacles, and I am going out, Zim."

Zim just scowled as he used a detachable shower head to rinse out his wife's hair. She had said this was supposed to be soothing. He didn't find it soothing at all. "How can you be this-" Zim almost said stupid. Even though Gaz was paralyzed, she had those spider limbs inside her PAK. It wouldn't be tremendously wise to give her incentive to figure out how she could use them in future doomings. "-rash. Have you forgotten what happened the last time you were surrounded by those stinking humans?"

He instantly regretted his words as Gaz's expression changed from determined to something else.

She closed her eyes as Zim rinsed out her lazy and unhelpful hair. "No. I think that's part of the reason I have to go. I can't forget. Ever. I have to get back into the saddle or I may never recover from this, Zim. I don't want to relive what happened very time some random thing triggers those memories. I can't hide from my own memories. Zim, they will always haunt me if I don't deal with this."

They didn't say anything for another minute or two. Zim finished washing her purple hair and turned off the water. He hated the stuff. The liquid was always threatening to burn him. There were few other options when it came to rinsing cleaning products of any sort out of human hair, but if left uncared for those purple strands developed the greasiness of bacon.

Gaz's thoughts had been turned inward for some time, and there were no mirrors around their base/home except here in this sublevel bathroom. So she hadn't noticed her hair wasn't perfectly presentable until Mrs. Alpha suggested Gaz freshen up for the early evening outing on the way home from the initial support group session. Not to say she had the hair conditioning of a hobo, but still…

Zim dried out his wife's purple mane, careful not to let the damp red towel touch his own arms. The Irken set it aside, then tilted her wheelchair back upright and began combing it straight.

"I'm going to have scars from this, Zim," Gaz commented as her hair was stroked, her gaze far away. "Not just the ones you can see, but inside my mind. The kind Tak has had to live with from her own experiences. I can't let it cripple me."

Zim nodded at this. The Gaz he knew would never accept being a cripple. She continued after a breath. "Part of me is nervous, Zim. Wants to avoid the whole thing and stay here where I feel safe. But that won't heal me. And if I stay scarred, how would it effect my PAK? It's a part of my brain now. Zim? I suffered a trauma. If my thoughts are shaky and my recall warped, how could my PAK not become distorted too? I need to be strong."

Zim didn't want to relent just because his wife was reasoning it all out where he could hear inconvenient logic. "But, Gaz," he said crossly. "You only just met these humans today. From what you have said, even for your species they are unpredictable, unstable, and will be armed."

"I know what you're saying, but you just described me. Plus it's not the same. They aren't deadbeat thugs and I'll have a squad of hyper-vigilant bodyguards with me. Not to mention an armored car they could toss me into right away. The thing is practically a bank vault on wheels."

Zim squeezed past his wife's chair and looked down at her. "Zim. In group they talked about flashbacks. That's what I had up on the hospital ship. Tak gets a bit of anxiety from her own issues. I could have full blown episodes where my mind thinks I'm back in that alley if something triggers me. I'm going to have to retrain and desensitize my nervous system."

"We could just erase that memory," Zim countered.

Gaz shook her head. "Would you want to have the memory of calling your Tallest cut out of you? As terrible as realizing what they did was for you, it was a significant landmark in our coming together. Even if it worked without side effects, which is doubtful, that would also remove what I remember of you coming for me. It's hazy, but it's there. I lay there helpless, dying, and my dad and Dib didn't even have a clue. But you came to save me when I needed it for the first time in my life. I don't want to lose that."

She closed her eyes. "Besides, Zim, you'd have to tamper with my PAK as well so it wouldn't reload the memories. But with it controlling my heart, would you want me to chance that? If something went wrong…" A complete memory wipe wasn't the worst thing that could happen.

Zim reached out and put both of his hands on her shoulders, resting his forehead against hers. "It's going to be rough, Zim," Gaz spoke quietly. "Right now my biggest enemy is my own mind. I have to conquer this, Zim. I can't let it conquer me."

"Zim understands," the Irken said. If there was a concept he could understand, it was conquer or be conquered.

"I knew you would," Gaz replied. "On the other hand, I know we both would feel much better with precautions being made for my sake. It's not like I can protect myself anymore."

"Before, you would have doomed someone for suggesting-"

Gaz interrupted, speaking quietly. "I know, Zim. But that Gaz died in a filthy alley. You would have eventually died too if you couldn't bring me back." She looked down at her belly. "It's not just the two of us anymore, either. If something happens to me…"

Zim pulled his wife, bondmate, and organic smeet chamber close. It was a terribly disturbing concept. But at least she had accepted precautions being taken. He sent his antennae into her hair seeking and offering a mate's comfort.

"OWWWW!" Zim yelped as he fell backward onto the floor, holding his antennae. The distracted Irken had overlooked that her hair was still damp.

Gaz couldn't help but chuckle. She blinked with her eyes to set her wheelchair's brakes and sent one of her spider limbs to lend a mechanical 'hand' back up.

"You're such a goof," she commented with a fond smile. "But I love you anyway."

Zim took the offered cybernetic limb and raised himself off the floor. Gaz retracted the metal arm back into her PAK while he rubbed his antennae with a cross look on his face. The Irken wanted to give a retort to the warm insult, but also wanted to keep the backhanded affection too.

"I called Tak. Now that I'm going outdoors again, she's bringing over a set of clothes for me to wear from the base's stores." Gaz looked up at Zim and blushed. "You'll have to dress me. Not just tie a gown around my waist."

Zim looked back at her. "You know Zim would do anything for you. Dress you, feed you. Maybe throw Dib into the City Cesspool…"

"Change my diapers," Gaz added.

"That too."

"No, Zim," Gaz said with her face flush with embarrassment. "I meant I need changing. Can't you smell that?"

The Irken rubbed his antennae stalks tenderly. "Zim burned my antennae in your hair."

Gaz let out a chuckle out of stress. "God, what a couple we make."

Zim looked at her. "Is that a laugh or cry thingy?"

Gaz looked up into his eyes, but let out a small smile from behind her own difficulty. "Yeah. But Zim? As screwed up as things are, I am glad I'm here with you."

Zim nodded, his eyes lighting up with affection as he stepped behind Gaz's chair. He manually released the brakes and pushed her out of the bathroom. "We will get you into a fresh diaper right away. How bad is it?"

"It's a stinker, Zim. I'm sorry. And not just because I can't hold it anymore."

They remained silent as they left the bathroom, out of their bedroom area and traveled the corridor toward the medical chamber where Gaz could be placed on the table for changing and future diaper disposal into the sun.

Gaz turned her head to gaze up at her husband who was tending to her every need, no matter how smelly or offensive, and without much complaint. Even with some level of competence.

Zim, she thought, thank you. Thank you for your care. Your concern for me. For not seeing me as weak. And a bit loony, too. For all you do for me. For your love. I am going to make it up to you, Zim. You are deserving of it.

Zim looked gazing back down on Gaz as he pushed her along. Well, Zim still has the Voot Cruiser. Plus the Drops Flat has been grumbling that they are not Infiltrators or Infantry, and don't get out of their transport often enough. Zim will have to give them a call in a few minutes.

---

Gaz watched the roof of her new home fold back into position after Zim's Voot Cruiser took off into the blue sky. Then she returned her focus to guiding her motorized wheelchair toward the street, with Tak in her holographic human disguise walking beside her.

"Where is he going?" Tak, wearing a light armored vest over her torso, asked as they made their way to the street.

"He said he had an errand to do. But I'm sure that involves playing stalker."

Gaz hadn't said it with recrimination in her voice like she would have in the past. She was nervous going out like this, and felt the need for some type of security blanket. The girl felt the need within for someone watching her from on high, ready to swoop in at a moment's notice. She just hoped her defective husband stayed out of sight and didn't cause things to explode prematurely.

They were both dressed in gray fatigues, and Tak was including a backpack with her disguise to hide her own PAK. Understandably Gaz had not yet gotten down to tailoring her old clothes to accommodate her PAK, and her Irkens would probably shred her dresses in the attempt to alter natural fabrics. So a spare uniform had been fabricated from a standard template back at the base on short notice. Unfortunately that had been an Irken template. So having her limp body manhandled, reverse tug-of-war style, into a set of clothes that did not take into account her female proportions had not been a pleasantly intimate experience with her husband.

"Did Zim forget something?" Tak asked with a hint of scorn, pointing at Gaz's bare feet resting on her chair's foot plates.

"No. I just had enough of Zim shoving me into an outfit that is too small in places. It's like you Irkens never heard of hips before. Not to mention… never mind. I didn't want to accidentally skewer him with my PAK's accessories just because I was frustrated and had a stray thought. Anyway, it's not like I'll be running around anytime soon."

Using her vision, Gaz guided her motorized wheelchair toward her waiting ride, once again mentally shaking her head at the poor limo disguise. It would have been better painting the APC shell to resemble an RV or something. She made a mental note to work something out with Computer later.

Task scheduled, her PAK silently inputted the concept into her consciousness. 9:00 am tomorrow.

Gaz felt her head shiver at the unnaturalness as she wheeled up the ramp and into the armored vehicle. Inside, the troop compartment's two rows of seats running along the sides of the vehicle were empty.

"Where is everybody?" Gaz asked her Irken sister-in-law as she wheeled into position in the center of the compartment.

Tak's holographic human form bent down to secure the wheels of Gaz's chair to the floor of the compartment with a set of heavy clamps built into the deck plate. A tractor emitter may have been preferable to most Irken's technological preferences, but having the vehicle lose power after taking some severe hit wasn't in her guard's playbook. Not that it mattered that such a thing was supremely unlikely here on Earth. Besides Tak had decades of experience, during her first janitorial tour on Dirt, in what humans might call Ultimate Redneck Engineering. Sometimes simple meant less things that could go wrong when it came to safety restraints.

The disguised Irken spoke as she ensured that her sister-in-law was strapped in securely. "Colonel Beed already has ten Irkens from First Squadron enroute to the rendezvous coordinates along with Bravo and Charlie. I figured that with everything, you might want some private space to… withdraw for a time."

Gaz nodded an acceptance and her appreciation as Tak finished making sure she was securely fastened and wouldn't fall out even if the APC was rolled down the street like a pair of dice.

As Tak sat down nearest the closing ramp for a moment, the forward hatch leading into the crew compartment opened. Lim stuck her head out, the long sandy locks of her disguising wig swinging back and forth in front of her flat chest. Gaz noticed she was wearing the dark gray ceramic weave of her pilot's armor over her torso, and straps of a backpack looped over her shoulder. Maybe this is a bad idea, she thought. It's not just me anymore that gets involved if I choose to go. It's everyone around me too.

They no doubt ran every security check known to man and far beyond as well. Not to mention what they probably had standing by just in case. No, it wasn't her Irkens that made her feeling a bit anxious. Not exactly anyway. It was the possibilities of what could- Gaz gave herself a mental shake as Lim spoke up.

"Our surveillance drone is picking up a convoy of Earth vehicles approaching the rendezvous point. ETA five minutes. License plates check out. Are you sure about this, Lady Gaz?"

Gaz closed her eyes. "If something goes wrong, can you handle it?" she asked, not meaning her own mental state.

"We've rigged your car extensively, Lady Gaz. Governor Zim had Governor Skoodge export some of the gear himself, and some we salvaged from the wrecked Shuvver. Response teams are already in position. We can deal with anything that happens."

Gaz didn't open her eyes, but nodded her head in acknowledgement. I should have added 'discreetly' to that question, she thought. "Should I even ask what Zim brought in?"

Lim didn't answer Gaz's question, and when the human girl turned her head to look at her she had an uncomfortable expression on her face. Clearly the answer was no. Lim looked past her and addressed Tak. "General, I have to insist on our Lady wearing her chest plates at the very least on this excursion."

Gaz hung her head, feeling caught in bubbles-within-bubbles of protection as well. A part of her wanted to reject the notion, but she couldn't forbid it anymore. That had gotten her killed once already. Even though she had been brought back from clinical death, without the slightest margin for error, that previous existence had not survived. Bad, even lethal things could happen to the former mighty personification of doom who was now part alien machine.

Not to mention it wasn't just her own augmented life anymore. Gaz had two helpless passengers being nourished within her own vulnerable flesh.

Gaz sighed out as she surrendered in her own inner struggle. The human looked up at Tak's holographic disguise. "Go ahead," she relented.

Tak rose from her seat near the closed loading ramp and slid out a storage locker from under one of the two rows of seats lining either side of the interior.

"So I take it Lim is my driver now?" Gaz asked. She turned her head around again toward the smaller Irken in the forward hatch. "Do you even know the traffic laws?" Not to mention being willing to obey them?

Tak brought out four sections of magenta chest and back armor and carried them over. The Taller Irken spoke as she fitted the pieces together over Gaz's front and around her PAK. "Major Lim had Mez load all Earth ground and air traffic protocols into her PAK."

Lim came bounding over, holding a plastic card for Gaz to examine. "See? I went to take the test, and got my driver's license this morning," she stated excitedly. "Now I am my Lady's certified pilot."

The small Irken wearing the blond wig looked very proud of herself. Gaz wasn't sure if she should be concerned or not, given the contacts that hid Lim's Irken eyes. They had irises that involved red and blue polka dots.

Task scheduled, Gaz's PAK wordlessly formed the concept into her mind. 9:15 am tomorrow.

---

Cortez dropped her hand out of the open door window of her blue minivan. She was riding shotgun with the Chief driving for her today. While she could drive her own van while wearing her steel peg legs using custom levers on the steering wheel, she preferred someone else in the driver's seat if they were taking the faster or more congested avenues and freeways. Especially within a convoy when they went out for their monthly outdoor "therapy" session. Not to mention that she just felt more at ease being in the shotgun position like back in her Army days, with her actual shotgun racked below the side window behind her.

Back overseas her Military Police battalion had helped guide supply convoys and ran checkpoints during the "police action" of the Drug War in Destanderdan. It had left a mark on her that most civilians of her country didn't understand. Of course she knew that there was no threats just waiting for the right moment to open up on her car. That one of those discarded pieces of litter along the freeway wasn't a bomb waiting to go off as they drove past. But a bit of her brain was stuck in the past. It was better than a few years ago. At least now she wasn't preventing herself from swerving into other lanes to avoid something that wasn't there. But sometimes it was just better to leave driving the lead vehicle of a convoy to someone else and settle into the unneeded role she was familiar with. Riding shotgun.

"Is that her?" she asked, pointing at the two black SUV's with heavily tinted windows. Unmarked cars that clearly read 'Security' from their appearance.

The two black vehicles had turned into the shopping mall's large parking lot and cut through rows of empty spaces toward their own parked convoy at the far end, which was made up of worn cars and trucks.

The former navy Chief just gave an uncommitted shrug. Cortez eyed their own collection of transportation. Several of their pickups had old model campers resting in their beds and sticking out over the cab. Other trucks carried long card tables, lawn chairs, and plywood squares nailed to stands made from refuse lumber. Their loads tied down in their beds. They probably looked like a bunch of crazy hillbillies going camping on a shoestring budget. Well, at least the hillbilly part was inaccurate. And their cars were fairly worn down considering the expense of what they put inside them.

Those two SUV's came to a stop parallel to their own minivan about a full block away, leaving plenty of blacktop between them. Each of the driver's side doors opened, and two men dressed in gray fatigues climbed out of their vehicles.

The Chief rolled down his own window as the men came forward. He eyed their ready holsters strapped to their thighs very briefly and automatically. He didn't recognize the few identifying patches or tags. "Looks like they're from your line of work, Cortez."

Cortez eyed them carefully. They were somewhat young in age, but older than most brand-new-squeaky-clean officers who wore 'I-Just-Graduated-So-I-Know-Everything' Lieutenant's bars. She took in how they walked and held themselves as they approached. "They aren't security. Those are active duty Lieutenants, Chief. Mustangs by the look of them. Both have British commando badges. You know, Royal Marines."

The Chief looked at the woman next to him questioningly. Mustangs were the unloving nicknames of enlisted men who were promoted into the officer ranks. Nearly unheard of in peacetime. "You sure?" he asked. It wasn't unheard of for allied personnel to visit for training or conferences.

Cortez nodded. "Yup. Overseas working the checkpoints I saw a lot of international units. You pick up on all that stuff fast when people are trying to infiltrate your position and blow you up, while half the friendlies wear differing uniforms. Spotting a discrepancy at a glance kept us alive. Uniform looks stripped of identifiers, but you boys never take off your training badges. Besides, just look at them. They are definitely British Marines. Highly trained infantry types."

The Chief waved her silent as the men drew closer, but noted that something indefinable about his friend became relaxed. Something about them told her ground-pounder senses 'these are friendlies' that he himself as a navy man couldn't see on dry land. One of them spoke up in a distinct accent, lending weight to Cortez's comments. "Good evening. Master Chief Jones and Sergeant Cortez, I presume?"

The woman seated in the passenger seat nodded. The soldier outside continued. "I am Lieutenant Bravo and this is Lieutenant Charlie. We'll be acting as Lady Membrane's security liaisons. I am sorry to have to ask this of you, but we need to run a quick inspection of all your vehicles. You know how it is."

Cortez looked at the Chief. They had driven straight to their collection of cars and trucks, and again walked straight to the ranking amputee. Even though they were all discharged from service and hadn't been in uniform for several years. Let alone wearing their plain, 'let's get dirty' semi-civilianized attire. Nor was it that amputee's minivan. Nor had they asked for any identification.

She glanced back at the gun racks bolted to either side of her minivan's interior and slowly reached for the glove compartment in front of her. Some of what they had was really illegal without special licenses and documentation. "I know how this looks, Lieutenant. But I've got all the papers-"

Lieutenant Bravo waved her off. "No need for that, Ma'am. We've got your Federal Firearms License numbers, examined all your registration paper trails and the site itself after you discussed the arrangements with Mrs. Alpha back at the hospital. We also realize you assisted in small arms instruction at Fort Fragg before shipping out overseas with the Military Police."

Cortez exchanged glances with the Chief, both thinking along similar lines. Those two men probably knew what kind of gum they chewed in elementary school, let alone that they had longstanding appointments for psychiatric support at the Veteran's Hospital. Add to that Chief Jones' .50 caliber sniper rifle was resting on its rack in plain sight with Cortez's 12-gauge automatic shotgun and underslung 'flare launcher' taking a place on the other side of the van's interior. That also didn't count what the others had brought for her to legally transport. Anything that could make a ton of noise and could be ordered from online military surplus catalogues with the correct license, thus avoiding live store clerks who would inquire about mental health issues.

The Membrane girl had mentioned bodyguards and Cortez had imagined no-nonsense, sunglasses wearing, stiffly walking suits. But it appeared her protection included British military personnel. Those people took their Kings and Queens, Lords and Ladies a bit seriously.

The woman looked out past the Chief at the two black SUVs. She could see the feint outlines of figures inside. It looked like they had brought along a full squad.

"Uh, sure. Anything you fellas need," the Chief said with growing anxiety. For some reason he felt like he may as well be driving his friend's minivan with the words Free Candy Inside spray-painted along the sides. "But before we get started, I should tell you about the campers. We soundproofed them as sensory decompression chambers. You know. For when we've stressed our sensory triggers enough to progress in desensitizing-"

Cortez brought her palm to her face and shook her head. That was probably not the best choice of words. No, siree. We are not really a group of heavily armed and only semi-stable mental patients with mobile soundproof rooms taking a young royal-or-whatever girl out into the wooded areas beyond city limits, just as the sun is going down. Nope. That couldn't possibly look bad.

"Look… Lieutenant…" Cortez stumbled out. "I know it seems… insane. But a lot of us were caught in really big bangs, and just talking about it doesn't retrain that part of our mind that is still... stuck in that moment. I'd rather not be hugging the floor, crying out for my buddies to let me crawl back for my legs just because some breeze slammed a door shut when I wasn't expecting it."

Both Lieutenants glanced at her steel poles protruding from her shorts in place of human legs.

"We understand, Ma'am," Charlie said to them with respect. He knew a vet's experience when he heard it. Not to mention that Americans still had not grown out of their cowboy ways of dealing with matters. "We are just here to ensure that nothing bad happens. After what happened last time-"

Bravo cut him off with a facial gesture. "Ma'am, Chief. You need to understand something. Lady Membrane is not just another girl who was attacked and wounded. She is important. I mean she makes your Mr. Presidentman and our Queeny of England look irrelevant in comparison."

The Chief watched him closely as the other man took a breath with a disturbed look that wasn't quite hidden. "That girl was attacked by a dozen armed thugs when nobody was watching over her. She managed to hold them off alone until one decided it would be a good idea to shoot her with a tazer big enough to stun an elephant, just as her husband shows up to rescue her. In about fifteen seconds he killed eight of them and set two city blocks on fire. What was scary is that most of that fifteen seconds he spent screaming at them. I saw the video and arrived for the aftermath. I had to watch most of Lady Membrane's attackers get put into evidence bags with tweezers. But that was just her husband. One guy in a restoration project he had, and it happened not five clicks away."

Bravo took a breath. "You understand what a measured response is, Chief." It wasn't a question. "That girl now has two whole companies whose idea of a measured response is to check their inventory and ask if it will be enough or if they should say 'What the hell. We can call in more.' We're not concerned for Lady Membrane's safety. Lieutenant Charlie and I are here to ensure yours."

---

Gaz looked out… well, not exactly out. The girl looked at the viewing screens that seemed to be almost painted on the sides of the troop compartment she rode in, watching the reproduced outside scenery sail past. The road was now only two lanes and winding through a wooded landscape where greens and dark browns dominated. One small section of the left side display showed her monster-of-a-car from a drone flying high overhead. Another showed a column of older cars and trucks along with one of their SUVs about a mile up ahead. The other trailed behind them.

Tak sat next to her, strapped onto one of two empty benches that lined the interior. "We should be at the quarry in ten more minutes."

The two were alone as the armored hulk of a wheeled vehicle made another sweeping turn along the road. The power plant hidden further toward the front of the vehicle whined with a typical Irken thrum.

Tak looked over and scrutinized Gaz. "Are you alright?" the disguised Irken asked.

Gaz nodded quickly, gesturing with her chin down at the gray Irken-made fatigues she wore underneath the magnenta armor plates covering her torso. "A bit anxious. Plus I'm stuffed into the uniform so tightly it takes more effort to breathe. I half wonder if I will need to be cut out of it when I get home. But at least I can be outside and still preserve some of my dignity again."

Tak didn't speak. She just looked at the displayed scenery drifting past on the pseudo-windows.

"How are you, really?" she finally asked. As if the Irken knew she had something on her mind, but didn't know how to go about opening up about it.

Gaz thought about how to answer the question. "I don't really know, Tak. I know that physically I'm slowly healing. But that's not really the issue, is it? I used to be one way, and an instant later I wake up and find my whole existence has been replaced by something else."

The human girl in the wheelchair quieted down for a few moments. "I can hear it, you know. My PAK. Only it's not like hearing. It's like something putting data into my head. When Dib stops by to let me know he's not forgotten me, I get this inclination that I'm supposed to keep humans from getting too far into my new home. But that part is not me feeling those things. But I'm human too, except sometimes I feel like I'm not a part of my species anymore. That I'm something else."

"I'm changing too," Tak stated. "My PAK was degraded, so I find myself less restrained to think in new directions now. My instincts have altered; being around my own kind bothers me more than being around humans do. Not to mention sharing my existence with Dib. Being accepted into your family unit."

Her expression then turned more serious as she stared off into space. "I often feel like I'm not a part of my species anymore, too. I feel like I am mutating. I itch, crave gross vegetable-based food, my clothes chafe, and I'm leaking. Now Mez says I am starting to grow… lumps like yours."

"Lumps like mine?" Gaz asked. "What lump- oh. Those kind of lumps."

Tak turned to look at Gaz square in the eye with a bit of unease apparent in her own. The human girl opened up to her. "Tak? I'm getting cravings for Irken snack bits. I need to be plugged in at night for maintenance. I get the urge to throw up at times, but for the most part I can fight it down because I can't move around on my own and make it worse. But if I fail, I need Zim to roll me over so I don't either puke all over myself or roll myself clear off of the exam table with my new PAK limbs. I crap my pants like helpless baby, and Mez tells me I'm bloated from the hormone changes. I'll eventually start lactating, too."

"Does it hurt?" Tak asked. "Growing lumps, I mean. I can take pain, but this itching…"

Gaz had to laugh a little inside herself, even though she didn't feel like laughing. "I know, but given your reaction I don't think it will change much. When mine started, my chest was tender or sore at times, but I wouldn't call it painful. I just didn't want to sleep on my stomach for quite a while. Oh, and before it comes up later on, they'll probably grow at different rates. So don't freak out if they grow in lopsided. They will even out eventually.

It felt… good to share. When Gaz started to go through those changes, she had to educate herself on what to expect from online medical guides. Without a mother and unwilling to risk either her annual quality time with her father being sidetracked or endure his potential responses, that left Dib and there was no way she would have had that discussion with her brother. "Anyway, Tak. When they come in, I'm sure Dib will be thrilled. Guys are like that, and Dib was always really into aliens."

Tak's expression changed instantly. "Which ones?" she asked with slitted eyes. "When I get a chance I will have to make them extinct because the only 'alien' Dib is allowed to get inside of is-"

"Gahk!" Gaz exclaimed as all four of her PAK's spider limbs popped out and tried to cover her ears. "I can't hear about the things my brother does to you, Tak! Seriously, get a grip. I know you bonded Irkens are territorial, but jeez! Talk about a hair trigger. I just meant he's always been obsessed by weird stuff, okay? Besides, the closest thing to even a friend he's ever had was you."

Gaz retracted her metal limbs into her PAK. There was several moments of silence as both found other things to look at as the outside scenery went by.

"Tak? Can I tell you a secret?"

The disguised Irken looked in back at the immobile human sitting in her wheelchair within the middle of the cramped troop compartment. Gaz for a moment didn't look like herself. She looked… fragile.

"I'm afraid."

Tak looked on as Gaz steeled herself. "I'm dealing with a lot, but deep down I know I'm using that to distract myself from thinking about things too. Like I'm hiding from my own thoughts, in a way. Makes me feel weak when it seems like just yesterday I was the strongest person around. The girl who could handle anything."

She looked down into her lap, her gaze far away. "I could intimidate anybody with just my inner presence. I was the embodiment of doom who could stare down anybody until their soul had melted into a puddle on the floor. Even those two… men. I sent them running, but they came back."

Tak looked upon her human sister-in-law.

"They had me, Tak. I was holding them off, but it wasn't going to matter. There were just too many. They only wanted a shiny necklace to pawn off, but they had me and I couldn't fight my way out of it. Then they… they… I remember dying in Zim's arms."

Gaz sniffed loudly and rather unladylike. "Then bing, I'm awake in Zim's lab and I have this thing in my brain, not to mention I have four extra limbs waiting to spring out of my PAK, and my brain is disconnected from everything else below my neck. The only thing I have some control over is my artificial half. The alien half that is the only thing keeping me alive from one second to the next. Sometimes I even catch myself wondering if something will go wrong and my next artificial heartbeat will be my last, and I need Zim to hold me as I fall asleep. That if he's not there, I might not wake up ever again."

She sniffed again as Tak looked on, a tear running down her cheek. "Then there is the other part," Gaz said, changing the subject. "On top of all that? I'm having a baby. Right now. I know I was looking forward to bringing her into the world someday. But that was later when I was settled in life. Not just starting out. I didn't realize how scary being faced with having a life totally dependent on me not screwing her up was going to be. Plus she's going to be twins. Two of her. I don't know how to be a mommy. I crushed people's will to resist my own when they crossed a line, not nurture them. I didn't have a mom and barely had a dad. So what example do I have to guide me?"

"Gaz?"

The girl looked up and into Tak's own distressed expression. "I know. I'm having a smeet too, and I have no idea what I'm doing or how I am going to change. We were all made in a factory. There isn't a single mother-to-a-smeet in the whole Irken Empire. I never even met one until coming to Earth."

The Irken next to her took a deep breath. "Trying to become an Irken Invader was all I knew. All I understood. My very first memory from when I was five seconds old was a robot arm instructing me to report for duty. Then there are the memories of my time on Dirt. I remember what I was like when I was sent back there. How angry and spiteful I was at being cast out on a whim. At the ship captains that kept trying to bury me alive in orbital sewage drops. How I nearly crossed the line into insanity when I had been eating meat for two years and was starting to wish I could satisfy my spite by getting my hands on those captains. The horror of realizing the kind of sick monster I was starting to become. Accepting that they were right to reject me all along. That the universe was better off with me pushing dookie around as the walking dead.

"But then Dib came for me; the only person in the whole universe who came for me. I sent him my message and he rushed to me right away. Tended my wounds and abused flesh as if my agony and despair was his own. Seeing what I had been reduced to hurt him. Dib brought me back to the world of the living as someone that still had value. Worthy of saving. He accepted me as his bondmate even after I told him... how unhinged I let myself get." Gaz watched as Tak gazed at the far wall, turning away from things she didn't want to remember and hated. But also valuing the good parts tangled up with them.

The disguised Irken changed direction back on topic after taking a moment to return to the present. "Irkens don't even have names for what is happening to me. Some of my body parts don't even officially exist, let alone have labels. It's confusing, and there are times when I need Dib to reassure me that it will all be okay."

Gaz nodded to herself. Dib had told her that Tak's mind had nearly cracked at one point, but loyally had not been specific as to the details. It was no wonder Tak saw meat as if it were a vile ghost from the deepest of hells. To turn back from near psychosis alone and isolated while fighting starvation by hunting and eating things that not only burned horrifically, but also reminded…

Despite everything, all she had experienced, the memories she didn't want, the strange new life she had not been prepared for, all the changes she was going through, Tak kept going. Even if what she was going through with having a smeet scared her a bit, and needed someone to lean on at times, she was still strong.

"Tak? Dib is going to be a good dad. I should know because he practically raised me when he was just an obsessive child himself."

Tak gave an appreciative nod in her direction. Neither of them were alone in what they now faced. Their mates could stand by them, support them. Do all sorts of things. But they couldn't go through the process of creating life with them.

Gaz leaned her head back, resting her neck for a moment and clearing her head. Or at least trying to. "I was installed with a PAK. I don't think I am completely human anymore."

"I have one too." Tak paused for a minute in thought. "Every Irken has a PAK. You were just installed in a weird pink body."

Gaz tilted her head forward again, looking at Tak's holographic disguise and seeing in her mind's eye the form underneath. The form that seemed as familiar as that of her own species. Perhaps more so as she had never really fit in with the human crowd.

Tak spoke next. "I'm having a smeet. She's part human."

"I'm having a baby too. Twins. They're half Irken."

"My body is mutating."

"Mine is changing too."

"The Itching is annoying."

"So is trying not to throw up on yourself in the morning."

"I have tissue under my shirt to catch my leaks."

"I'm wearing a diaper to catch mine."

There was silence for a few minutes.

"I'm going to be a mom."

"So am I."

"I have no idea what that means."

"Neither do I."

"I'm due in fifteen months."

"I'm due in nineteen or twenty."

The two different species with much in common looked at each other.

"I guess that makes you like my full-fledged sister," Gaz stated. "Not just my brother's wife."

"Is that a promotion in your family hierarchy?" Tak asked, her antennae momentarily perking up out of her holographic disguise's blue hair.

"I guess you can call it that," Gaz replied.

"Can I confess something else?" Tak asked.

Gaz nodded.

"I was supposed to be an Invader," Tak said with far off smile. "But even if Dib is rather distracted when I have my battlefield sound mix playing, I find I really like him conquering me instead. Is that normal for female mates?"

"Lim!" Gaz yelled out loud enough for her driver to hear in the next compartment. "Are we there yet?"

---

Lim guided the multi-ton vehicle down the gravel road and past the lone human security guard sitting in a small shack at the entrance. He had his feet up on a desk, face buried in a newspaper. The human plainly showed no reaction at all to an unfamiliar and very massive vehicle rumbling by, as he was displayed on Lim's virtual windows within the cramped driver's space.

With all the controls and displays, not to mention the retracted and currently unmanned turret position behind her, there was almost no room for the Irken's small form. She was surrounded by blinking and humming equipment with only space for her seat and a small path leading back to the rear of the personnel carrier. But it was also comforting, since most of that equipment had been salvaged from the wrecked Shuuver that had brought her bonded son to her.

Lim ignored the clearly useless guard who was supposedly on duty at this giant hole in the ground surrounded by forest. She checked her displays. Most of the modifications to the basic chassis was done with Irken military technology from the Shuuver. The dark matter reactor was good for another fifty thousand light-years. The wide superconductive outer barrel of the high-yield plasma lance, built in as a spinal mount along the right side overhead, was adequately cooled even though it was hidden inside the hull. But if it was ever fired it would take over an hour before it could be ready again. The lightweight and automated meson disruptor pulse gun was folded up within the roof above the troop compartment, and the proton cannon was nestled out of sight above the retractable turret beside her.

The Irken twisted her controls, sending the eight-wheeled car down the wide declining road and circling deeper into the mile-wide pit. It was no challenge as the path was designed for large excavating equipment and transports hauling heavy loads of debris out. Why there would be enough humans who would actually pay for damaged rocks in order to make a hole this size was beyond her.

She was approaching the destination, so the Irken checked her scanners. Sure enough there were several heat signatures indicating a collection of flimsy human transportation. Lim flipped a switch to a far more sophisticated array. The more powerful sensor telemetry from Zim's Voot Cruiser flying high overhead was picking up the subtle signatures of shielded Irken power sources nearby. Nearly thirty of them along the forested rim of the pit.

Lim flicked more switches, checking the status of the ring of anti-personnel charges embedded along the undercarriage of this massive vehicle. The Irken driver made sure they were fully safed, but could be armed with the push of a button. She made another wide and ridiculously easy turn down the ramp of bedrock leading deeper into the quarry. Straightening her course, Lim eyed another control. One leading to a white box under her seat with a red Irken symbol and several warnings about restrictions and how it did not exist scrawled on it.

Converting this human designed vehicle to use Irken technology had been about as challenging as conquering a flower maze with a flamethrower. But Lim was finding herself realizing the existence of what humans had called 'gray areas.' Not merely skirting around the rules.

Much of what they had put in here had been taken from the Shuuver. Secret Irken military technology. It was for an Irken Governor or Lady's ground car, which was accepted. But regulations stated that much of the technology within the new car was to be kept secret from other species. Lady Gaz was human. Yet she also wore a PAK, which was far more sensitive technology.

Before reviewing Beed's memories in that Snack Bar, Lady Gaz had just been recognized by the Tallests as a legal citizen of the Empire. Lim's PAK accepted that from the start, just as regulations stated she should accept a decree from her Tallests. Her PAK accepted the human as a rightful Imperial Lady by order of those same Tallests. Reconfigured her to serve as Lady Gaz's guard when it was seen that she had none. Even though her PAK had been infected by the memory evidence Beed has shown them, Lim herself saw the Lady as the best Imperial Lady she could have come to serve based on experience. Not just compelled to by her PAKs configuration.

But now? Now Lady Gaz could be seen as an Irken implanted into the wrong body. The PAKs made Irkens what they were. If Lady Gaz had come out of the smeet factories like this due to some error back on Irk, what would that make her?

Cramming Irken military technology into this human vehicle for their Lady was a bit of a no-PAKer. Zim had ordered something be done to replace the contraption his bondmate had previously driven. Besides, it wasn't like they were going to let any human drive their Lady around. Much like the Spittle Runners either parked within the base hangers or up on the Doomwind, the humans were restricted from doing more than being loaded cargo. Maybe watch the instruments in an emergency while an Irken operated the controls. Not usually things that were done back in the Empire, but Earth seemed to exist inside a bubble separate from the laws governing the rest of the galaxy. Bizarre and impossible things everywhere else were the norm here.

But like the other Irkens who had followed the path that had led them to Earth, she could adapt. They even had Mrs. Alpha, a human, actively helping alien Irkens like herself adapt and reason out things the PAKs hadn't been programmed to take into account. One who listened and offered suggestions until an acceptable path of processing could be found. If their PAKs rejected a point of view or suggested reasoning, the human woman would simply search for another.

But that box under her seat. That made Lim very nervous if she thought about it too much. A quanta-shield generator wasn't supposed to be known to exist except on Irk itself, and was only for the highest governors and the Tallest themselves. But rumor stated that Governor Zim had somehow gotten Governor Skoodge to ship one to Earth. An unsecured planet. Not controlled by Irken masters and guarded by the Armada. It wasn't in Irken territory. It was barely on the galactic map. Even the highest Generals did not have access to this technology.

A single use quanta-shield generator like this one was a multitude of steps above a simple stasis field generator, which simply slowed subatomic and molecular interactions down. The bubble it sent out prevented anything inside it from changing quantum states. Not a single meson, boson, photon, electron, or atom could be altered in any way while the field was up, nor could it be shut down until the bubble decayed on its own. The entire universe could implode on itself and anything or anyone inside the bubble would be unaffected until the field dissipated.

In theory, a big enough field could make a ship invulnerable for a time since it would be incapable of change. Or a planetoid sent on a collision course with Irk, turning it into a massive armor piercing object that could punch clear through a planet as if it didn't even exist. So it had been put on the ultra-restricted list so enemies could never discover or salvage one, and then weaponize the technology to devastate the Irken homeworld. Or maybe so the Tallest and Irk's governors could be the only ones to play with the exclusive toy. It was hard to tell sometimes, especially since she wasn't privy to what research said was actually possible.

But Lim was sitting on one, and it was her call if it should ever be activated to protect her Lady within the troop compartment.

The Irken sighed in renewed acceptance as she made another turn deeper into the rocky pit. She had gone into the 'gray' zone before, but never this far toward the black. Having it was Zim's order, not hers, and he had given her the ultimate tool to protect his bondmate. Lim's overriding mission according to her PAK was to protect her rightful Lady by any means necessary. Even if that meant living in the uncomfortable and unfamiliar gray area between what she had been originally programmed as right and wrong. This wasn't 'black and white' Irk. This was Earth.

Not to mention her Lady was once more going to be near a number of unknown and armed humans. Lim could still recall the perfect images of the surveillance feed as a lone Lady Gaz had been attacked, fought alone, and then was struck down. The number two Irken of this planet's Governor's Own was unwilling to ever be caught unprepared again. If she had to brush up close to the 'black area' to do her job, so be it.

---

Cortez stood, wearing her long khaki shorts and a shirt that read 'U Suck, Navy,' before a long and clearly improvised picnic table made by bolting several card tables together and laying heavy plywood on the top. They were at the bottom of the gravel quarry, and ground was covered in… well, broken rocks. The surface of the lowest level was very uneven, with larger rock protruding the ground. For the most part it was compacted by being run over by multi-ton earth movers of various sorts. With her steel 'legs,' the middle-aged woman was forced to steady herself with an elderly person's walker.

She supervised the table before her, checking the pieces of equipment that would be questionable in the hands of the mentally touched. Fortunately the quarry was far from the public, owned by someone's cousin that didn't mind that they might scare off a few eco-vandals looking to cripple multi-million dollar equipment.

The half-Latino woman surveyed the site, as she was in charge of safety. The sunset was in its final stages, but industrial floodlights surrounding the quarry kept the pit bright as day. They were close to the road leading back up to ground level, with most of the bottom's length stretching out before them.

Their rows of trucks and minivans, riding high on their off-road tires and now covered in dust, were parked facing a rock wall that went up nearly a hundred feet to the next road level, then three hundred feet to the trees above. Out ahead of her the Master Chief, who mediated their amputee support group, was walking behind a truck and steadying target stands as another man shoved a few out of the back of the moving vehicle every fifty to one hundred yards.

To either side of her, other men were setting up other tables and lawn chairs. Food was being set out on some. Weapons, ammunition and cleaning tools on others. Of course under her supervision nothing was loaded nor would be until everything was ready and everyone on this side of the firing line.

Watching was a bit funny in a dark humored sort of way, since none of them had their full allotment of hands or feet. Easy to poke fun at themselves when away from public scrutiny and unwanted pity.

She turned her head to the black security SUV that had followed their convoy down. Only the driver, Lieutenant Charlie, had exited so far. He stood a few feet away and eyed the table briefly.

"That brings back memories," Charlie commented half to himself, indicating the table before them.

"Good ones?" Cortez asked with equal attention, her eagle eyes soaking in details of the goings-on around them.

"Old friends back in training. Talking out pranks we'd never actually pull on the Sarge while prepping for some exercise or patrol. Placing bets on strip down and assembly times. Eating rations out in the field. Usual stuff."

Cortez nodded absently, familiar with such things herself. She nodded to the black SUV he had driven to its parking spot nearest the exit. "Your friends going to sit in there the whole time?" she asked.

Charlie glanced back toward the occupied vehicle. "They haven't been on duty out in public like this before, and not too happy with being here. They'd be much more comfortable with Lady Membrane being surrounded by base security. They'll come out once their Lady arrives."

She looked over and caught the man next to her eyeing the forest up above them. The too familiar sense of invisible eyes waiting for a mistake crawled up her spine.

"Uh, L.T.?" she inquired. "You mind lending us a hand with a few more of the chairs? We don't have enough out to go around."

She smiled inwardly as Charlie's face clearly attempted to hide that he was trying not to figure out if she implied whether they were short of deployed chairs or usable limbs. As he walked away to a cluster of people pulling lawn chairs and picnic coolers out of cars, Cortez pulled out her cell phone and dialed a number.

"Master Chief? Yeah, it's me. They didn't mention it, but there is more security up on the ridge. No, I didn't see anything. I know they're up there 'cause this Lieutenant is nervous about that tree line. Figured you'd want to call the others and let them know to be on their best behavior without making a scene. We don't want to spook whoever is up there."

The woman finished her call and yelled at someone. "Chuck! Hey, Chuck! Yes, you! Don't bother making a trip to the dynamite shed tonight. Yes, I know it's my thing. Just use the M-80s I confiscated from my kids, okay? Because I don't feel like pushing myself or the rookie! That okay with you?"

---

Mech Specialist Flov sat side-by-side with his bondmate Xax in the two-Irken Command Walker, using a remote to look down into the giant hole in the ground. Their thirty foot tall walker with its multitude of antennas, shoulder mounted energy guns, and area defense 'tail' pod was further back in the trees that covered this Irk-forsaken area. The air was filled with tiny flying things that would eagerly suck the goo right out of their bodies if they left their six legged war machine.

The 3753rd's six small scout walkers were much closer to the cliff edge, their chameleon paint blending into the standing vegetation and transparent anchor beams latched to the thicker trunks. They could avoid detection much easier that the larger units, and had sniper lines of fire on all the awkward apes down below. Two of the heavy bombardment walkers were down at the bottom and off to one side from the human gathering, crouching in near fetal position behind large dirt movers. Their enormous seventy tons of Irken magenta and pink colored armor plates, synthweave protected joints, and the equally enormous ordinance pods on their backs and massive arm cannon were barely concealed by the pathetic Earth machines.

Other walkers of various sizes surrounded the hole in the ground. Rapid Assault Walkers with their lighter weapons were kept from the ledge, ready to leap down on their thrusters while the bombardment units laid down concealment charges and dealt with any ground car that may try to pursue if things went wrong. Attack units were standing by to move to the edge to provide cover fire.

One of the scout drivers spoke up over the channel their whisper lasers broadcasted on. "Does anyone else think this is stupid?"

"Who came up with this plan?" Another scout driver asked. "Seriously, Flov. The lightest thing I have can burn one of those ground cars in half. And I am pointing it at some dumb ape's head? What victory is there in that?"

"I agree with Des," one of the bombardment drivers down below added over the communications link. "If we need to do something, what are we supposed to do? Vaporize every living thing here down to individual atoms? Wouldn't that kind of defeat the purpose of being here in the first place?"

"I bet it was Zim," came another voice. "Everyone knows his PAK isn't screwed in straight. For Irk sakes, he-"

"Silence!" Flov barked harshly. "This is his planet, his bondmate. You are not tall enough to question anything. If my Xax were down there, do you not think I wouldn't have all of you here as well? Or did you forget what happened on Quabel Six?"

Xax, sitting in the shared cockpit, looked over with the communications quickly muted. "I got my arm stuck in a snack machine, Flov."

"That snack machine had you trapped! Then that refurbishment drone came along and hauled you away with it. I thought I'd never see you again!"

Xax flipped some switches and pushed some buttons, eyeing her display. They had been over this before. "The humans are communicating on their public network. They haven't seen us, but know someone is here. They intend to avoid provoking a response."

There was silence as a large Earth vehicle appeared in the distance. Disaster Zim's bondmate. Both Irkens were contemplating the same thing, each instinctively touching their own bonding necklaces. There was some things only other bondmates could understand. Their troops didn't. Those necklaces were sacred, carrying their partner's DNA sample with them forever. Those necklaces meant their joined lifespan itself. Unable to exist if separated.

Even if this Lady Gaz was just human, she wore the necklace. Something meant to be worn for life and would be difficult to remove even after death. Something that would remain of their bond long after the remains had disintegrated. The bio-recycler sludge-beings of this planet tried to steal it from her, and while she was still alive at that. They had tried to steal the symbol of two bondmates' joined existence and their actual life in the process. The life of an Irken Governor. Just to sell off for a few monies. That last part was reason enough to come to this planet by simple policy. The rest made it much more than that for certain people.

This Gaz may only be human, bonded with a defective. But she defended her bond with her life. She hadn't tried to run away, but had attacked overwhelming numbers. She had been struck down, and her bondmate had come for her with brutal force. Just as any Irken would have.

They all wore a similar display that identified what they were. The left-over instinct they all had toward another. These few Irken pairs were all different than the norm. Outside of the established parameters. Permitted and had allowances made for them, but not understood by the rest of their species or their society. No one else was looking out for them.

Thus, threaten one who wore the necklace and instinctively driven consequences would follow. An example would be made, and the lesson driven so deep it would be imprinted within the perpetrators DNA.

Xax unmuted the communications link. "All units, Lady Gaz is on site. Governor Zim is flying above in his Voot Cruiser. Remember: he is watching us as much as he is watching them."

---

Cortez just stared at the monstrosity of a limousine as it came to a stop. It faced the inclining road leading back up the pit, and the loading ramp that formed the rear wall of the inner compartment came down slowly.

The woman knew the silhouette, but figured if someone wanted to make a limo out of military surplus, well that was their business. Rich people made luxury rides out of nearly everything. Plus it would be hard to beat for its protective features.

She stood there with Lieutenants Bravo and Charlie on her metal 'legs,' steadying herself on the rough ground with her old lady's walker. Waiting. The others were sitting in their lawn chairs, tapping their fingers on arm rests. The Master Chief may oversee the support group, but she ran the range. Not to mention the girl would probably be more at ease around another woman rather than the guys.

Cortez watched as the doors of the two black security SUVs opened up and the occupants filed out like circus midgets coming out of clown cars. They were so very short, only coming up to her thighs. However their appearance was all business. Protective body armor that was clearly superior combat-grade. Tactical style black backpacks, holstered sidearms and sheathed knives that looked extremely lethal. Intense protector's eyes that betrayed a predator's instinct. Like shepherd dogs watching for wolves, just waiting to call in air strikes on said wolf's individual hair follicles.

The ten tiny and vaguely ill-looking bodyguards formed a line between the waiting humans and their charge within the monster car. The purple haired girl they had met just this afternoon rolled slowly out in her chair with another young woman with shorter blue hair walking behind her.

Gaz sat in her wheelchair wearing plated chest armor colored in various shades of red, with ill-fitting fatigues underneath. She bobbled around strapped into that chair as it moved forward over the extremely uneven ground. The chair came to a stop just behind the line of guards.

"Gaz?" the blue haired one asked. She wore fatigues like the rest of them, but this figure wore stars on her shoulders. "I'll be inside if you need me." Her sharp eyes flicked over the support group. "Just call me if you need to come back in… or something to disappear."

"Thanks, Tak."

Cortez scratched the back of her head nervously with one hand as Tak walked back up into the carrier, the other hand gripping the granny walker she stood before. She could tell the young girl in that chair was hiding her own apprehension behind a familiar outward mask. Probably because she didn't want to lose face.

"Wow, kid," she said trying to lighten the thick ambiance hanging in the air. "We didn't expect you'd actually show up tonight. That takes a lot of guts. More than most of us ever had. Why don't we find a nice place for you to park?"

---

Zim sat in his hovering Voot Cruiser high above the pit. Several displays showed close ups of the goings on down below. He did not want Gaz-blossom down there. He wanted to go down and fly her away from those humans. His Irken muscles felt twitchy all over. His antennae quivered in the air.

"Do something," he muttered intently through his teeth. "Zim dares you. Zim double Snorg dares you."

But no, he had to hold it all back. Gaz-blossom was right. She needed human help with a human problem, as much as Zim hated the thought. Her PAK was integrated with her nervous system in a two-way meld. Not installed onto a blank slate like in the smeet factories. If her invisible brainmeat condition could impact how Gaz-blossom's PAK functioned, she could end up a defect as well.

His human wife was formidable, but also shaken, wounded, and hurt within. Gaz-blossom was now unable to tend to herself, yet still determined. She was still amazing. To become a defect like himself was a tragedy Zim would not accept.

Of course, if the humans down there so much as breathed wrong in his bondmate's direction…

---

After being scanned, prodded, and poked, the Ear Mufflers had been carefully positioned on Gaz's head. She found herself surrounded by a quartet of Irken guards, sitting behind the line of humans making preparations. The Cortez woman stood ahead of her, but not too close to her guard, and speaking loudly as they all were wearing hearing protection.

Gaz's disguised Irkens at least tried to wear their borrowed ones. They hung lopsided on their heads, but at least they could poke their antennae discretely into the devices. Of course it took some convincing on her part to do so.

"Okay!" Cortez was talking loudly. "I know this looks insane, but there is a method to our madness. We all have memory triggers here. We push on them a little bit, then retreat into the campers to meditate and calm back down.

"The brain tries to treat traumatic memory like a physical injury. Isolate and shield it from activity while avoiding anything that could bump it around, as if it were a broken arm. Avoid moving it so the rest of the body can function. But it actually reinforces disfunction because that event doesn't stay buried, and our mind constantly works to push it down to protect itself. Unfortunately it has to be processed in order to heal. But a trigger makes it all come crashing back uncontrolled, like a snapped rubber band, and we relive that event. That is harmful. So part of treatment is pushing on that trigger, and desensitizing from that stimulus. You're new, and what happened was resent. It's still fresh in your mind so don't push yourself. You need to take baby steps here, no matter how tough you think you need to be. If you can only be here for a single minute, that is good! You took an impressive step just showing up. So don't drive yourself into a relapse thinking you have anything to prove, got it?"

Gaz nodded, feeling like she had to choke down her apprehension. She was already feeling pressure, and not just from herself being here. A lot could go wrong right now.

Oxygen usage elevated, her PAK silently inputted data into her mind. Increasing heart rate by twenty percent. Compensating for biochemical requirements.

Gaz took a deep breath and sighed it out as she nodded at what Cortez was saying. Even my PAK is nervous, she thought to herself.

Cortez smiled. "Right! But we also have to spend most of the time pretending there is nothing wrong with us. So this is also a chance to let the crazy out to play. But not to worry. I run a tight ship around here. As wild as it appears, I make sure we do everything by the book."

Charlie walked up to the woman amputee from where he was outside of Gaz's vision. "Do you mind if Bravo and I get some practice in? Might help relax things abit."

---

Two minutes later Gaz thought: These people are insane.

So what does that make you? an honest part of herself whispered back. You married Zim; asked to bear his extra-terrestrial children. You've got a computer plugged into your brain and are now one step short of hearing voices. How does that compare to some excessive target practice?

THUBOOOM!

"Fifteen inches left. Eight inches down," she heard a male voice loudly tell their Chief through the ear protectors, watching the far end of the quarry with a spotting scope.

Three tables down the man made an adjustment on the scope attached to the fifty caliber sniper rifle. The weapon rested on his reinforced card table via a bipod mounting as he used his natural fingers on his good hand to turn knobs. His prosthetic one with the clamp rested on top of the heavy weapon.

Crack-crack-crack.

Gaz turned her head, seeing another man sitting in a lawn chair reading a book. Another was crouching behind him, a light caliber semi-automatic rifle resting on the first man's shoulder. The shooter was stabilizing his firearm with one prosthetic hand and using the artificial claw on his other prosthetic hand to pull the trigger, the stock buried tightly into his shoulder.

BOOM-BOOM-BOOM.

Ahead of her and slightly to the side Cortez sat in another chair, firing a three round burst from her automatic shotgun and ripping a hole into a plywood target square fifty feet in front of her.

Thump-whoosh.

The woman sent out a burning flare using the underslug flare launcher. The burning red light arced up and out, curving down and impacting another target further down the line. It promptly burst into flames as bright white light and showers of sparks erupted out of the device.

Ba-ba-bam. Ba-ba-bam. Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-bam.

Two lighter weight, yet belt fed rifles at the far end opened up.

Gaz looked up to her Irken guard standing attentively at her left side.

"Beed, are you all right?" The last thing she needed was Irkens taking action to protect her, and she was feeling anxious herself.

Sitting there in her wheelchair, the Irken smallest was able to turn to look at Gaz without having to look up. "To be honest, this is a rather pathetic display. Is this the best humans can come up with?"

Gaz mentally palmed her face.

---

"Hey, your highness!"

Gaz turned her attention to Cortez. The woman had her shotgun slung over a shoulder, and maneuvering herself with her steel pole legs and granny walker in order to offer Gaz a place on the line.

"You want to take a shot?" she asked, thumbing a gesture over at a table of various weapons.

This seemed particularly stupid to Gaz.

"I am somewhat paralyzed at the moment!" That was painfully obvious.

"So? I don't have any legs, but that don't stop me from walking around. I'll hold your arms up and push your finger on the trigger for you. There is always a solution if you want it. Let the crazy out, girl!"

Gaz took stock of herself for a moment.

"Beed, you guys take a step back. Please."

The four Irkens closest to her moved several steps away. The other six remained a vigilant line behind her.

Gaz closed her eyes, taking stock of her PAK's internal systems and mentally opened up to them once more. Cortez stood several feet away, waiting for an answer. The girl looked down the range, focusing her vision on a pinpoint. She felt… she didn't know what she felt.

---

Cortez waited for an answer, being hospitable. She didn't want the girl to push herself too far past the zone she felt somewhat safe in. On the other hand it never felt good to be the fifth wheel, unable to be a part of what's going on. But her bite-sized security guards seemed to give her some leniency when she had asked for some space. That was a good sign.

Gaz seemed to be thinking it over so she just stood there. Not giving her any pressure. Cortez eyes widened as four mechanical arms snapped out like a pouncing spider, aligning with menace down a path free of tables and people. She felt her mouth begin to open as an energetic whine emanated from the paralyzed girl.

Then each of the pointed ends of those mechanical limbs reaching forward from behind her back shot out a green bolt of light as that girl fired… something.

Cortez whipped her head around and down the range. The green bolts flew too fast to keep up, but she saw them hit a plywood target one hundred yards out. The wood panel exploded into hundreds of fragments, sending them flying for dozens of yards.

The range was eerily silent as Cortez slowly turned her head back to the girl in question. What did they do to you? They were all amputees from combat duty of some form or another. She herself had implants to attach her leg prosthetics. But this girl… what they wired into her brain… being turned into a mobile weapons platform was the only way she could keep living?

The metal limbs retracted back behind the girl in the wheelchair, who was looking a bit unsure of how she should respond. "Uh, that was my first time I thought about doing that. I guess I put too much power into it."

Energetic cheers and hollers erupted from the guys along the line of tables and chairs. Some held up chicken drumsticks from the food table as if they were swords after a victorious battle.

The Master Chief spoke up as he leaned over his oversized rifle, pulling his ear mufflers down with his good hand. "Hey, Firefly!" He nodded toward the scattering of splinters down range. "I can score a hit at a thousand yards. What can you do?"

---

Chanting human voices echoed around the site.

"Blast it! Blast it! Blast it!"

Gaz sighted in using a pair of binoculars Beed held in front of her face while standing safely behind. She pictured certain faces from her memory over her target, channeling her anger. A wind up charge sang out in to the atmosphere, followed by the crack of energy splitting its way through the air.

"Woooo hoo!"

An Irken hand reached out to offer Gaz a plain bottle of sugar slushie, complete with a straw. Gaz looked up to see Tak looking down at her. She looked a bit cross.

"Here, you need calories. Then you should give your PAK a break."

Gaz nodded, retracting her spider limbs into her PAK and taking an offered sip. The slush was almost pure sugar, but she did feel drained. She swallowed quickly, then took another.

"I know, Tak," she said around the straw in her mouth. "I'm getting stress warnings and schematics popping up in my head." She had only taken three more shots and took her time doing it. But the onboard system, like the rest of the equipment inside, was an auxiliary tool. Not a primary weapon for rugged use.

Tak looked at the other humans lined up over by the food table hooting and slapping each other. The disguised Irken shook her head, blue holographic hair waving in the air. "Humans are far too easy to impress."

---

Gaz lay in her wheelchair, the backrest tilted down horizontally. Her PAK had told her she had lasted seven more minutes before she decided to retreat back into her mobile sanctuary.

It was quiet inside with the back ramp closed. She stared up at the ceiling of the troop compartment. Her mind felt like it was buzzing. There was anxiety, agitation, unease, unsettled nerves, but also left over excitement. Comfort of discovering that she wasn't defenseless without others to protect her. Anger of the past. Regret that what she was had been taken away. A twisted touch of joy at the first glimpses of what she could now become. Guilt that she felt that joy because she owed it to dying by some scumbag's idiocy. Gratitude that she was alive even though she had been murdered in that alleyway fight. Sorrow that she was only kept alive by a machine. A surfacing touch of fear that, despite overwhelming evidence, it might only be temporary.

Tak was in the crew compartment up front with Lim, doing General things. Giving her space.

There was a rapping knock on the back of the armored car.

"Lady Gaz?" Lim called over a speaker. "You have a visitor."

"It's alright, Lim. I think I can manage that much."

Tak's voice spoke up through the speaker as well. "Do you need someone to help with your chair?" she asked.

Gaz inwardly criticized how the wheelchair had motorized mobility, but lacked one that moved her backrest up and down as well.

She let out a sigh. "No, I'm fine like this." She didn't feel like being up.

The ramp lowered on its hydraulics, and a heavy thump followed as it hit the quarry floor. Uneven and unnatural footsteps thudded and scraped up the ramp.

A woman's voice echoed in the compartment. "Wow. For a minute I thought your goons were going to strip search me. I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing. Plus I've been the only girl out here for a long while. They're good guys, but they're still guys. Can I come in?"

Gaz nodded and Cortez made her way into the compartment from where she stood at the top of the loading ramp, this time with a pair of metal crutches that had braces at the forearms. She sat down on a bench next to Gaz, leaned the crutches up against a wall then leaned herself up against it as well.

The younger girl turned her head and watched as the older woman stretched out her legs and rubbed the stumps through her extended-length shorts.

"Do you mind if I take my legs off for a while?" Cortez asked. "They hurt and chafe if I have them in all day."

Gaz just shrugged her shoulders. Or tried to. Naturally they didn't move according to her wishes, so she resorted to nodding her head. When Cortez produced an Allen wrench from her pocket, Gaz turned her face away.

She could hear the cloth of the woman's shorts being pushed up and out of the way. "Making you squeamish?" Gaz heard her ask.

"No," she answered back. "When I open up my PAK, it's a private thing. This is the first day since I woke up that I've worn real clothes, so..."

There was a couple of light thumps. Gaz looked over and saw two steel poles with primitive artificial feet attached standing up next to the two crutches. The woman was laid out flat on the bench.

"It's quiet out there because we're winding down now, and most of the others are inside meditating. How are you doing, kiddo?"

"I'm not sure. Trying to sorting through things, I guess," Gaz replied quietly. She didn't like being addressed like some little kid, but wasn't up to challenging it either. The swirl that existed inside herself was more than enough.

"If you decide to come back, try bringing along some sounds to listen to. Ocean waves. Wind blowing through trees. Whatever is soothing to your nerves."

There was a long pause.

"Have you had the nightmares yet?" Cortez asked.

"No," Gaz stated flatly. "But there is a lot going on with my PAK as I sleep. I'm pretty out of it."

"Ah," the legless woman said. There was a moment of thought. "You should expect to have them tonight. When you stress your nervous system like this, it can push back."

"I've had them before," Gaz told her. "I know how to deal with it."

Cortez didn't comment. Dreams were a very personal matter to share with someone you just met.

"How is your husband doing in all this?" she asked, changing the subject.

"He's taking good care of me. It's embarrassing to have to be fed and changed like a baby. But he doesn't let me down. He's there when I need him, leaves me alone when I need that too. He is protective, which is annoying at times. But I also feel the need too, which is also annoying at times."

"Gaz? It sounds like he is more of your caretaker than your husband. Can I ask how long you've been together?"

There was silence for a bit. "Not very long, really. I have to admit that we got rushed into it, even though we're glad we were. But I need someone to take care of me right now. I can't fend for myself at all anymore. I can't even use the toilet without assistance."

Cortez let out a cough before speaking again. "Yeah, I get that. But don't let that turn into his role in your life. It's an easy thing to fall into. Right now you're dependent on him for all of your daily needs. But you and he both need him to be your husband, too." She stretched her arms behind her head, joining Gaz in looking up at the ceiling.

"My husband is an accountant. Nice guy. Educated man who met a more street-smart sort of gal. I was already in the Army when we got married, so that was okay. Gave me an outlet and the Military Police was a good fit for me. Didn't have to do much other than bust up an occasional bar fight or arrest some prankster. On rare occasions bust something illegal. Nothing major so I never brought my work home with me. Had a couple kids. Good life.

"Then I got deployed overseas. I wasn't in a combat unit, but there were no front lines either. Not to mention checkpoints and convoys are opportunity targets. So there were a number of ambushes and firefights. Occasional mortar rounds walking in on us before response teams could reinforce our position, or some bomb going off as we drove along. I don't like to talk about what I did over there. Especially not with my family. It's a bit different with people who were there and speak the lingo. Had the same experiences."

Cortez swallowed hard, eyes slightly vacant. "Then I got hurt. I was sent back, but the wife my husband said goodbye to never came home. I was an army policewoman when I left, but I came back a soldier. One who had seen action. One who had other human beings try their best to kill her so many times it all became a blur until I was out. On top of that, I was in the hospital pretty mangled up. Not just my legs, but I've got some scars from shrapnel. Up along my hips and upper arms. Fortunately my legs took the brunt of it.

"It was really hard for my hubby. For my kids too, seeing me covered in bandages and sedated six ways from Sunday. But at that age they didn't understand much more than mommy got hurt very badly."

The woman reached down and scratched at the end of one of her stumps through the fabric of her shorts. "Anyway, things were different when he brought me home. I wasn't the person he remembered and fell in love with. He drove me nuts because every time he looked at me, all he could see was his maimed wife. Not me. I could recover eventually, and adapt. My missing legs bothered him so badly that he couldn't bear to touch my stumps or my scars, let alone get physical with me. All he could see was a maimed woman that needed him. The poor man just wanted his wife back, and I couldn't give her to him because that person was gone. What came back was a stranger he needed to take care of. I mean he still loved me, but I wasn't who I used to be.

"We would have split up if we hadn't gone in for counseling. Get some advice and have a place to talk things out with someone who wasn't on a side. In a lot of ways, we had to start our marriage over again. Anyway, the point is that you need to not let it get that far. You are just temporarily immobile. You may have some injuries too, but those are healing. Right?"

"Yeah," Gaz said in a faraway voice. "The incisions along my back are mostly healed. The two in my chest are still closing up."

"Then in a couple of days when you have de-stressed, ask your hubby out on a date. Get a little romantic with him. Show him you are still there and kicking. That the girl he loves is still in there. Maybe it won't be the same as it was, but your relationship needs to be about more than your trauma."

Cortez sat up and looked at the girl before her. "Mind if I ask you something else?"

"I guess," Gaz answered back uncommittedly.

"That thing on your back. How is he doing with it? I suppose it must be a real doosey for him to wrap his head around. I can't imagine it myself. I mean I have a few implants where my legs attach, but…"

Gaz let out a sigh. "Zim's the one who brought my body back home. Zim's the one that was so desperate for me to live that he put the PAK on me. It was the only thing left that could be done before I was gone forever."

There was a heavy silence blanketing the compartment for a bit.

"Yes, I have a PAK now," Gaz stated, half talking to herself. "It is freaky having something else inside my mind. It is scary that my PAK is the only thing keeping me alive and will be for as long as I live. But it helps that Zim and I have something like this in common. I'm not alone in this. I can adjust because I have him to lean on."

"You mean-?"

Gaz nodded her head. "Yeah. He and I are both PAKed. But he's already lived with it for a long time, whereas I'm just starting to. It's actually helped me understand where he comes from a lot better. It's not his fault he's a fumbling idiot half the time. It was something that was done to him."

Cortez edged away from things that sounded an awful lot like Need-To-Know. "You call him an idiot, but you say it with affection."

"Yeah," Gaz replied softly. "But believe me, when we were little I had only the upmost contempt for him. Funny how things change."

"Good memories?" Cortez asked.

"Yeah. Good memories. More than I realized I had growing up."

Cortez reached over to grasp her artificial legs leaning up against the wall. "Sounds like your stress is coming down. My turn is coming up. Think you are up for lending me a hand?" She eyed the look Gaz gave her. "Hey. A little prosthetic humor, and you've got at least six arms now."

Cortez nodded. "Okay, too soon." She turned a tad sheepish for a moment. "Anyway, my turn is coming up and I don't usually have anyone of the female persuasion with me. I mean The Chief is a supportive friend and all, but he's still a guy. Practically a different species."

For some reason Gaz just rolled her eyes.

---

"What are they doing out there?" Gaz asked.

She was parked at the foot of the loading ramp of her 'car.' Cortez was just standing next to her holding on to her crutches tightly. Both were ringed by Gaz's amazingly short and excessively watchful guards.

Many of the tables were now put away, and most of the human minivans and camper trucks had lights on in the soundproof areas in back, doors and windows sealed up tight. In fact except for several shattered plywood pieces there was little evidence that anything had taken place.

About fifty yards out, two men were crouched over a particular spot. They were working together over something on the ground.

"They're setting up my main trigger. I stepped on a mine, remember?" Cortez answered. She turned her head, looking at the surrounding security. Then looked for the taller British Lieutenants to perhaps mention what was coming to this girl's keepers. She saw them back at the row of trucks, loading a final card table and some folded chairs into the back.

"Uh…" the woman stretched out. "Gaz?"

Apparently the girl was already ahead of her. "Beed? There is going to be a large boom coming up."

The short guard took two steps closer. "Lieutenant Bravo and Charlie already heard about this, and we have alerted the outer perimeter. There is no need to be concerned, Lady Gaz. That is our job."

Gaz nodded. She had felt an unaccustomed anxiety being around so many human strangers. But not being alone among them helped. Having a ring of faithful protection between her and them helped more, and felt thankful that they were there. But a bit annoyed that she was thankful too.

She turned her head toward the woman standing next to her.

Cortez looked down at her in the wheelchair. "I'm not as bad as I used to be, and I am expecting this. If I weren't I'd probably be finding myself flat on the ground and calling for help. But watching this still will make me remember. I'll flinch real bad, but…"

She trailed off for a moment. "I won't see the frying pan go flying in the air. I'll be seeing myself. Memories, you know. They may haunt you, but you have to face them to get past them."

The two men in the distance finished whatever they were doing and came jogging back. Cotez spoke up again as they retreated from what they had laid. "Some of us may be staying overnight, but The Chief will be driving me and a few of us home. He'll unload my car for me, and my hubby will end up cradling me for the rest of the night out on the porch swing. Anyways, we'll be heading out soon. So I'll tell you good luck now. And don't forget to remind your hubby that he is still your husband. Got that?"

Gaz nodded as the two men in the distance ran back to a truck, trailing some wire behind them.

They yelled out a minute later. "Fire in the hole!"

Cortez stared ahead while Gaz watched. A thunderous blast sent a ball of dust thirty feet into the air, and a small object hurtled into the atmosphere. The concussion pounded through their bodies as the pressure wave swept past.

Gaz looked over at Beed. He looked back skeptically. "We played with bigger as smeets," the disguised Irken said in a tone that was almost disappointed.

The girl looked back up at Cortez. The woman was trembling over her entire body, her knuckles white from holding her crutches tightly. She watched as she forced down a large gulp, then unleashed scathing words back over her shoulder at the two men who set the charge.

"What the hell!?" she yelled. "I said take it easy! No dynamite, remember!"

"Sorry, Sarge," came the reply from a safe distance. "We just used the whole pile of M-80's like you said."

Cortez wiped her sweating brow angrily, temporarily shaking off frayed nerves with the distraction. "Boys," she muttered. But she broke off from further comment from a whistling in the air.

Out in the rocky space before them, an object much larger than a frying pan came crashing down and smacked into the small crater that had been made moments ago. The canopy opened as smoke rose from the pod shaped object. A two-legged form in the distance scrambled out and began yelling in a high pitch with a fist in the air.

"Filthy hu-… Dirt-… Worm... You saw NOTHING! Nothing happened! There is nothing to see here! Computer! Send the Voot Recovery Vehicle, NOW! Because nothing happened. That's why!"

The two men that had set off the blast quickly got into their truck and rolled up the windows. Cortez just stared ahead, unthinking. Something snagged her attention and she turned her head to look at Gaz.

The girl sat in her wheelchair laughing hysterically. A joyful, humorous, bright laugh. Two of her robotic arms were out, holding her sides while another was held up against her forehead.

Gaz regained control of herself with a much brighter expression on her face, tears of laughter on her cheeks. "That could only happen to you, Zim. You wonderful idiot. Getting shot down by a frying pan was exactly what I needed."

---

The human minivans and trucks had driven off several minutes ago. Something about Need-To-Know and that they really didn't. Gaz in her chair rolled out to the crashed Voot Cruiser that Zim was still kicking and cursing.

Several Walkers of various sizes were approaching the site on all sides, making the ground tremble at each step. But Gaz paid them no mind as they were far off still. They were no threat to her; not if these bipedal armored machines of doom and mayhem was her security perimeter. She had been up to her neck in Irkens for quite some time, and had Irken technology woven throughout her body and melded with her mind. But right now was not the time to inquire.

"Zim?"

The Irken stopped what he was doing, panting as he caught his breath.

"Zim? Hug me, please."

---

Zim was a bit bewildered, confused, and his mind was wanting to spin in several directions at once but was not really equipped to do so. Rather it was switching back and forth in rapid succession; one after another then back around again. He was upset over the Voot needing repairs again. Then wanting to conceal wounded pride over superior Irken Technology being brought down by an Earth kitchen utensil. After that he felt insulted that it had been in front of other Irkens. A moment later hopeful that they hadn't noticed yet, so it could be blamed on something more sinister like solar flares or sudden upsurges in gravity. Even those awful death bees that roamed the Earth.

Next wanting to find someone to blame directly, but Gir wasn't present right now. Hadn't been for weeks. Then regret that once more something had gone wrong, as it always seemed to. Of course it had been stupid to be hovering directly over a blast site. But he had ignored the warning Beed had given several times, focusing on the humans below and ready to swoop in.

Now was relief. Relief that the humans were gone, and Gaz-blossom was still okay. That nothing had happened. That nothing, ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, had happened.

Gaz-blossom was approaching, and without criticism or that scowl that she had worn for years.

In fact, she was smiling as she asked for his touch. Her whole face seemed bright somehow. Uncertain, he reached out to take hold of his bondmate in her chair and embraced her. He felt a PAKs spider limbs reach around him and pull him mutually close.

"Thank you, Zim," he heard her say. "I'm glad you were here. I needed to laugh. Thank you for bringing light back into my nightmare world."

Zim didn't say anything. He was delighted that Gaz looked and sounded better. But on the other had he didn't exactly like being laughed at either.

"Nothing happened," he muttered into her ear.

Gaz pulled back a little. "I know," she said as she looked up into his eyes with a warm smile. "But it was funny and I needed it."

Zim pulled her close again and rested his chin on her shoulder. "You don't think Zim is an idiot?" he asked.

Gaz tilted her head into Zim's, unable to touch him with her motionless hands. She tenderly kissed his cheek. He had an inflated ego, but something overextended could be fragile too. "One world's defect is another world's champion. I know which one you are. Zim, you may screw up in interesting ways, but never when it really matters. I'm alive because of that. No one else could have saved my life. No one else could have brought me back to life. You are literally the reason my heart beats, Zim."

They let go on each other as Walkers came closer to secure the crash site. The platter shaped remote Voot Recovery Vehicle would arrive soon to wisk Zim's crippled ship back to his base.

"Zim. The house is so quiet since I woke up. Everything around me is about what happened. I am reminded constantly and I dwell on things too much. I need to laugh, Zim. I need a buddy to keep me company when you are busy with whatever project you're cooking up. Zim, tell me where Gir is."

Zim shook his head. "Gir and Mimi are making sure the puke swimmers who hurt you don't leave the city. He saw you when you were-" There were some memories difficult even for Zim. Namely his wife's lifeless stare as she lay on Dib's living room floor. "-when you weren't breathing. He won't listen to anyone. Not even me."

Gaz nodded. "Zim, I want to go home. But first, is Mez around? There is one more stop I need to make tonight and I need something to calm my nerves before they crack."

Zim tilted forward and rested his forehead on hers, sending his antennae into her hair. Taking in her scent. "Mez is on a ship nearby. Are you sure? Zim does not want you anywhere near them."

Her armored 'car' was pulling up with ten of her Irkens walking ahead of it. All around were at least a dozen 'light' Scout and Rapid Assault Walkers. Up above lights blinked on, illuminating the bulbous style hull of what her PAK identified as an Irken Combat Transport as it moved in to pick up its armor units.

Even so Gaz felt some apprehension. But she put on a brave face. "Somehow, Zim. I don't think it will be a problem."

---

The small rundown motel was on the outskirts of town, but far from the city limits. Most of the area was equally rundown or abandoned when the super-mega-mall went up ten miles away a few decades ago. Right next door to the other ultra-deluxe-mall. With such a poor economic condition and token business hours having passed before night even fell, the whole area was deserted.

The dilapidated single-story construction, whose bright cheery paint had faded to near gray long ago, sat in front of its small crumbling parking lot. The surface had almost reverted back to gravel. Two lonely light poles shed light into the space.

Zim peered down over the cockpit ledge of the Scout Recon walker he had appropriated. Flov and Xax hadn't liked it, but being bondmates themselves understood where Zim belonged when his bondmate would be going near a demonstrated threat. Below him were the open drop hatches, the Drops Flat ready to deposit the engines of war waiting in its belly. Tractor beams hummed above, holding Zim's vehicle over the open air. Ready to lower the heavy biped unit to the ground or shove it there very quickly.

The Irken eyed the view below, its surroundings, and the scattered icons presented in the displays surrounding him. His mind clear and functioning beyond smoothly, as was so rare for him. The parking lot below was small, but was surrounded by adjacent lots of rusted and vacant truck loitering areas, flimsy storage depots, and other enterprises waiting for their final failure. Each had open spaces bordering the others into a single flat area.

If it were up to him he would have called in an orbital strike and leveled the whole place. Destroy everything directly involved and be done with the matter. Perhaps add some casual collateral damage on the side. But they had grossly hurt his Gaz-blossom. Nearly took her life permanently; the one truly good thing that had happened to Zim. It would be up to Gaz to balance out their offending existence her way.

No. He wouldn't be the one to settle this. Nor was his bondmate anywhere close to being ready to do so now, struggling in her own inner battle. Zim couldn't imagine having an existing mind being joined with a PAK. He had awoken after hatching with his mind already uploaded into his brainmeat. Gaz-blossom clearly was functioning with her PAK, but it wasn't natural for her. Plus what would happen when she regained the use of her human arms and legs? His wife would insist on doing everything the hard way, learning to do it herself rather than just have some additional programming installed into her brain.

Yet, now that he was thinking more clearly, this was probably for the best. Gaz-blossom was clearly struggling. As painful as it must have been she had admitted that she needed help. That she wasn't strong enough on her own for now. Her brainmeat was trying it's hardest to not become a human defective.

Gaz-blossom was the only human that wasn't substandard. In fact, most humans were woefully so. To lose that on top of everything else would be a Zim-wide galactic tragedy that must be prevented. As much as he wanted to deal with other things in an Irken way, he would do whatever it took to support his human wife in not becoming a defective like himself. And while he would want Irken retaliation in excess, Gaz would want her own brand of balance.

The information available clearly showed that the target bile skimmings were unarmed. Too unbalanced to even venture out of their isolation. But these were the very ones who had attacked and struck down his bondmate. Oh, he did not want his amazing and hurt bondmate breathing the same planetary atmosphere as them. Much less being within striking distance again.

Down below on the road a large Earth vehicle bearing an Irken transponder turned a corner and lumbered down the street, flattening several garbage cans in the process. A turret extended out of the top above the front plate that angled down to the thick battering bumper.

When he first arrived on Earth he had known humans were filthy. But he hadn't known how hard it was for them to be clean, nor how bad it could get if they let themselves go. Not until his bondmate was comatose and unable to tend herself. Dear Irk! But it was also Gaz-blossom. His mate. The diapers, the greasy skin and hair that needed constant attention to keep clean, and yet was damaged if cleaned too much. The glop she needed to take in to keep nourished while she had been comatose. How that glob was somehow worse when it came back up. The horrible burning water she needed to ingest and be rinsed in. How uncooperative her body was when it couldn't move on its own. It didn't matter. It was all worth it when he was waiting for her to wake up and come back to him. He couldn't live without her human presence, nor could he desire to.

And now she was awake. Had left her brother Dib behind and declared his base theirs. Even with all the human maintenance and the grumbling from Gaz at times, it was paradise. His base was becoming a home now. Soon mini-Zims would be scurrying around, eager to do his bidding…

Zim focused his attention on the task at hand. Gaz-blossom was almost here to collect reinforcements in her recovery. Zim concentrated on his controls, assigning positions and unIrken reminders that they were not here to pulverize anything yet. Protecting Gaz-blossom was the only priority that mattered. She would be in close proximity to those who had wounded her. They would not be allowed another chance. As unacceptable as this may be, he needed Gaz-blossom to laugh again too. Preferably not at Zim.

---

The five men had shared the double room for nearly a month now and they had not left in all that time. Pizza boxes were stacked up against the walls, and towels were dirty having been used, hung to dry, and reused. The bedding needed washing. They had long gotten used to the odor. The plant in the corner had withered away from a lack of sunlight long ago.

Moral was nonexistent. All they understood now was waiting. Kill time playing cards or trying to watch the news for any shred of information that might give them hope. But there never was any. Only reports that some celebrity had started a new diet fad involving string and what the weather was not going to be like tomorrow. There was no further mention of the condition of the girl, her reported unborn child, and by extension their own fates.

THUNK!

Another rock hit their door right on time. Their ten minute reminder that something horrible waited for them to come out. That by itself was an indication that any news regarding the girl wasn't good.

They had kept quiet whenever people were outside, desperate to overhear scraps of information of the world beyond their bunker of cracked sheetrock and peeling wallpaper. The pizza boy could come and go. The burly housekeeping man with open sores on his arms and face came by to replace the bottle of dish soap for their shower, and traded towels that weren't much better than what they replaced. Those people were unmolested by the things lurking outside in the shadows.

But the driver that had been assigned to take the survivors to the police station? He on the other hand had opened the door and stuck his leg out. The man now lay in one of the two beds with a nasty one inch hole clean through his calf muscle, made by some weird light that shot straight through it. Not to mention there were now unusual claw holes in the door some black cat with glowing red eyes had made when it lunged at the slamming wooden barrier. The driver's wound had been cauterized by heating up a spoon with a lighter several times due to the size of the hole, and had been bandaged up with a small first-aid kit under the bathroom sink.

None of them slept much. Other visitors wandering outside as they finished their stay had been talking of phantom skittering in the air vents. Items arranged in reverse alphabetical order inside locked cars during the night. A strange mound of rocks piled up against one particular door every morning being collected into a bag by an eerie black cat. Moans of despair quietly emanating from that room in the odd hours. Sometimes even screams.

What few guests that had been coming in before were gone now. Rumors of the haunted motel at the edge of no place good told even desperate people to keep looking. The owner/manager had knocked on their door, telling them that he would leave the keys in the office. If they ever decided to leave, would they please set fire to the place so he could at least collect the insurance?

Tinkles sat on the floor in the corner, humming nursery rhymes to himself. Black circles, deeply contrasting his sun-starved pale face, hung halfway down his cheekbones. His lips expressionless. Similar to that of his fellows. Sleep was fitful, rare, and unwanted. Nightmares of death incarnate filling an alley, spitting out flame and destruction. Murdering everything in sight with a banshee's howls of doom. Men being ripped into tiny fragments of people by inhuman gunfire or blasted part by explosions in a span of mere seconds. Every time the survivors closed their eyes they saw that giant demon thundering toward them, arms belching its fury. And in their waking moments, that demon's servants waited outside the door.

Law enforcement didn't even come into the area anymore due to the large number of prank hostage calls begging for rescue.

It was dark outside. Dark again. Inside safe. Outside bad. Dark outside very bad.

The men in their now automatic and near zombie-like routine moved stiff joints and settled in for another long night.

Tinkles sat up suddenly from where he had simply curled up in his corner spot by the window. His eyes were suddenly aware. It was light outside. Very bright light. It had just flashed on out of nowhere. The others sat up as well.

"It's the cops!" came a soft cry.

"We're going to be taken to prison!" came another. "We're saved!"

Tinkles rose up from his spot onto his knees. Sweat ran down his forehead. He swallowed heavily as he hesitantly sent a single finger up and drew the curtains back for a peek.

---

Gaz rolled down the loading ramp of her armored personnel 'limo' and onto what could loosely be called pavement. She kept the Irkens and who knew how many tons of weaponized technology between her and the lit up shack that passed itself off as a motel. She was filled with apprehension, wariness, the need to hesitate and retreat from perceived threat. There was a phantom ache in her chest where two healing punctures were covered by medical sealant, even though she couldn't feel anything below her neck. As she guided her chair with her vision, targeting information, profiles, and countermeasures kept popping up into her mind's eye. Supplied by her PAK sensing threatening hostiles nearby.

She mentally choked it all down. Pushing it all back. In her memory she could see their faces. How they weren't afraid of her in that alley. Gaz forced herself not to look in their direction, brutally cutting her focus to where Gir was hiding in the bushes.

All around her were Irken Walkers ready to atomize something. Two Assault Shuttles stood by behind them with the Drops Flat hovering high above. Lim and Tak were inside her personal car with their fingers on most likely rather numerous triggers. Her faithful guard forming a firing line out in the forefront. Ready to shield their Lady with gunfire. Or their bodies if need be. Whatever it took.

If those inside had been suicidal enough to throw a rock, she felt like she would jump out of her human skin. Her skeleton running down the street and away from what was stressing her mind. Not terror itself, but the demanding instinct to survive something she hadn't before.

Two sets of red glowing eyes peered out of the bush before her, and Gaz moved to rest her chair beside the thick greenery just outside the empty parking space. She took several calming breaths and a few moments concentrating on her blood circulation through her PAK, absorbing traces from the medication patch stuck below her jawline on her throat.

When Gaz came to a stop and set her chair's brakes, Mimi's holographic feline form slowly stretched her way out of the bushes that littered part of the parking lot's boundary. The disguised SIR unit sat before the girl, then looked over its shoulder back into the thick shrub. The black feline head turned back, blinking concern out of its expression.

Gaz hadn't gotten to know her sister-in-law's SIR unit well. But they had shared a house for a little while before Gaz- Well. Until one day she didn't come back.

"Hi Mimi," she said. Gaz took another deep breath and let it out, keeping a quiver out of her voice. "Is Gir in there?"

That hidden concerned look came back when Mimi blinked her eyes with the slightest nod, indicating 'yes.'

"You've been keeping an eye on him all this time, have you? I bet you've missed your mistress. Huh?"

Mimi struck a pose that showed she would not admit anything. Gaz wasn't fooled for an instant.

"Go on, Mimi. Tak is waiting in the car."

The lithe black form became a streak that zoomed across the lot and into the waiting bulk of armored car. The turret on top of the personnel carrier twitched from the impact inside. Gaz ignored it with many other things fighting for attention in her mind.

Gaz turned her focus back to the shrubbery. "Gir? Are you in there?"

There came a drawn out voice from deep within. "Noooo…"

"Gir. I can hear you. And see your eyes."

There was a pause. "Gir. It's me. Gazzy. It's time to come home."

"No! Gir is on an important mission for Zim. The bad mans hurt Mistress. Hurt her baaad. Zim said to not let them get away."

"Gir. Look at me."

The red eyes darted toward her for a minute.

---

Outside, silhouetted by the blinding light, was the familiar hulking shape that haunted Tinkle's nightmares. His eyes darted in horror. There was more than one! Another, and another and another! All facing his direction. Arm pods lifted, pointing at his eyeball. A line of small figures in storming positions at their feet in front of what appeared to the blacker-than-black shadow of a light tank with a turreted gun also pointed in his direction. The figures in front of it had weapons leveled. Behind the shoulders of the titans of metal plated death were two floating airships of some ill-intended sort. Each about the size of four large moving trucks arranged into a block. A bright unearthly light rained down from high above and behind, the source of that somehow inhuman light unseen. Allowing only dark outlines to be visible due to the brightness contrasting with shadow.

Yet out of all that, one lone figure was somehow worse. A murky figure in a wheelchair at the edge of the light, the dark outlines of a girl's shoulder length hair waving in the light breeze. Then within that shape shrouded by the gloom was a momentary glint of a white reflection from a gem that hung below the base of its throat.

"It's her!" he cried. The light reaching her was too dim to see any features. But he knew it could only be her.

Then his horror peaked into a frenzy as shadows of spidery limbs reached out of the back of the seated girl and lifted that limp body out of the chair; holding it vertical in midair a mere two inches off the ground. His frenzy froze into something else as that otherwise limp body hanging there by those inhuman things coming out of her back turned its head directly at their window.

Tinkles fell onto his rear and scurried backward away from the curtains, leaving a trail of urine along his path across the ratty carpet. "We killed her. We killed that girl and she's back. The zombie girl and that demon are back for our brains!"

His fellows didn't exactly believe his cracked raving, but they didn't doubt someone related to the girl had come in force. Mattresses were quickly leaned up tightly against the window and door. The heavier bed frame quickly followed.

---

Gaz didn't hear the muffled cries from the motel room in the distance. She looked down at her limp body as she held herself up with her PAK's spider limbs. "Gir. It's true. They hurt me very badly. But I can get-"

She stopped as Gir crawled out of the brush. His eyes were red, locked in duty mode. Yet his expression was one of hurting for someone important. He looked up at her with robotic tears waiting to come out in his red eyes, yet those were also locked away. Focused on his objective. "They hurt Gazzy. They baaaaad mans."

Then his head turned away and the top opened up. A small projector popped out on a cable and a weak light streamed out. A hologram appeared before Gaz and she took in a breath, forgetting all that was around her.

The holographic image was of her, lifeless on the Membrane's living room floor. Dib's arms pumping her chest, trying to get her heart going again. Her blank stare gazing up into nothingness. A small device stuck to her forehead and a large needle sunk deep into her skull. A small trail of blood seeping out from underneath. Gir's last view of his Mistress before being sent right back out those weeks ago.

The imaged vanished, being replaced by another image. From the position of the green, three fingered hands, it had to be a PAK recording of what Zim saw at the time. Rolling her body over, cutting her dress and putting a device onto her bare back.

Gaz hung there by her spider limbs wordlessly. Seeing her own death stare- her own body at the very edge of permanent non-existence. The installation of her PAK. Blood oozing from underneath and down her ribs as connections burrowed into her flesh, staining the living room carpet she had been laid upon. But not enough to indicate life.

"I know, Gir. I wasn't there, but I know."

Gaz carefully draped herself back into her wheelchair as if her body were a wet cloth. Gir looked up at her from where he stood. "You have a piggy on your back. Like Master."

"Yes, Gir. I am like Zim now. But I can't move my arms or legs yet. Can you come sit with me?"

The SIR unit crawled up onto Gaz's lap, then turned his buring gaze at the most offensive room in the universe. Even now he retained some of his childlike qualities. Gaz leaned her head forward and rested her chin on his metal head. "Gir. I know the people who hurt me are here. I'm trying not to think about it right now. It's more important that I get better, Gir. I need your help. What is more important? Zim and I being happy or those bad men being cooped up? Will you come home and be my movie buddy? Make me laugh instead of cry?"

Gir didn't move, but she could sense hesitation. "Gir. I'm having Zim's smeets. They are growing inside me. You're snuggled next to them right now. But I don't know how to be a mom. Can you help me learn how to be a good mommy, Gir?"

Gir looked up into Gaz's face. His eyes flickered, then turned blue.

"Mommy?" Gir wailed in near robot tears. "You were bye-bye. Bye-bye gone."

A stressed tear ran down Gaz's cheek. But not just of stress. "I know. But mommy's getting better. But this place hurts me. Can we all go home now, Gir?"

He nodded, squeezing her ribs.

Gaz turned her chair with Gir riding as a passenger in her lap. The two rode back to the giant armored car waiting for them. A voice above them announced itself from a loudspeaker attached to a particular walker.

"What do you want to do with the digester bait inside?" Zim's voice asked.

Gaz rolled up the ramp toward the troop compartment. Even with the calming medical patch on, her nervous system felt like it would be so good to shut down now. "They are nothing to me and I have better things to do. Send them back to whatever useless place they came from."

---

Zim smiled as the ramp to Gaz-blossom's car closed and the eight-wheeled mobile vault drove away. He used the Scout Walker's auxiliary launcher to fire four sleep-gas grenades the size of watermelons through the door, window, wall, and roof of the make-believe sanctuary. But he wasn't smiling for the usual reasons. His Gaz-blossom was starting to blossom again.