A/N: The rumor that I was devoured by honey badgers was exaggerated. It was just real life nibbling on my toes. I should really do something about that.
Another thanks to latest reviewers and those who PM me asking me when I plan on getting back to work updating this project: AcshTheBloody, Historia70, fray100, wolfmoonshadow, MajorDarkblade, Zerg170, invader kal, SerenaTheHedgehog, labreck01, chronofall, Zhilo, Arzir, mishshoni, TheAmazingJoker, DarkShadowCrow, and Invader-cami.
As promised in PMs, I managed to get this out in the 1st week of February. A bit shorter than normal, but hopefully I can update more frequently until the end of the story.
For those of you who have been wondering where I've been and worrying I've forgotten about this project, November around here is usually the transition into winter weather and takes a lot out of me every year. Same with the transition into spring. Usually it's about all I can do to keep up with the house work, and I finished a 2-3 week writing grind to get the last chapter out to you folks before that happened. Every December is usually dedicated to preparing for Government paperwork and gathering proof of stuff which is always due mid-January. Plus a few other people things. But now all those things have been cleared off my table, so I can get back to the writing grind.
Also the phase of the story wasn't originally intended to be more than an epilogue of sorts. Perhaps three chapters at most, so this part of the story didn't get the year of development time the rest of the story did while I was writing the previous sections. But I found it is somewhat necessary and flows better to get to the final ending I have been planning for. So if updates are more sporadic, this is a reason why as well. Well, technically the reason is my own brain insisting on getting everything right, but you know what I mean ;)
And thanks to Frey100 for Mez and Nox. The characters and ideas behind them are his. Hopefully I got it right without delving much into that parallel plot.
Zim sat at the main terminal in the computer lab within his base, his narrow tongue slightly sticking out in concentration. Blueprints were displayed on the oversized monitor before him. Simulation figures cycling through their numbers.
Gaz-blossom's loud voice came echoing through one of Computer's speakers. "Zim!? We've got company coming over in twenty minutes. Are you getting ready down there?"
Zim let out a mild growl before replying. "Of course Zim is getting ready! There will be plenty to keep me busy down here!"
"That's not what I meant. Oh never mind! Just come with me for Family Night. It's important."
Yeah, like he wanted to be around humans that weren't his wife doing the human talky blah, blah, blah. He didn't exactly appreciate working with them when he had to. Sure, Zim loved his human wife. But he was bonded to her. Gaz-blossom was special. And, sure, some humans could be useful. But that didn't mean he wanted to just sit there with them and wasting time exercising their noise holes when they could be doing something more important like dying in video game carnage. But Gaz needed this. The Irken just couldn't figure out why he had to be there too.
"And Zim?" Gaz-blossom's voice rang out again. "You had better not be planning on turning our moon into a singularity cannon again! I've already told you shooting black holes at people is a bad idea. What do I have to do? Remind you every other day? Let it go."
Zim quickly and guiltily cleared the giant display in front of him. Yes. Having it all explained in detail that, while using a black hole as a projectile could in fact wipe out whole fleets, the gravity of planets and suns tending to draw it back around and swallow them up too did indicate that such a contraption would be slightly bad idea. Not to mention blatantly illegal according to the 'Let's Not Kill Ourselves Along With Everyone Else' Judgementian Treaty number blah, blah, whatever.
But it did distract Gaz-blossom from catching on to what was actually being planned in the coming months. Unfortunately it took a lot of effort to keep his wife from picking up on it. Sometimes her being the only astute human was a real pain.
Zim let out a sigh and called up Decoy Plan Eight. This one involved planetoids out in the Kuiper Belt, large FTL drives and homing missile software. Making decoy plans that Gaz would object to was so easy. All he had to do was be himself.
Gaz let out a sigh as she lay face up dressed in her blue hospital gown, pushing herself off the living room floor with her PAK's spider limbs as she ran through her 'workout.' Gir in his dog disguise lay on her stomach sleeping. While not really much of an exertion, since her arms and legs still hung there limply, it was physical therapy just the same. It would help strengthen her spinal column to take the stresses better as those bones continued to strengthen. Not to mention any movement of her fleshly body, while not voluntary, was still moving muscles. Regaining her physical strength was going to be a tremendous pain once her nerves woke up, both figuratively and literally.
Plus she had to keep an eye on Zim at times. Yes, Zim had constantly failed to harm Earth in his fake mission to conquer or destroy it. Even protected it from others at times so he could continue to try to wreck it himself. But that didn't mean that Irken husband of hers wasn't fully capable of inadvertently destroying Earth while pursuing his duty to safeguard it from others. If the Tallest wanted Earth destroyed, they should have told Zim to protect it.
Gaz released her breath again as her metal spider legs raised her off the floor once more. It still creeped her out as she could see her reflection in the blank TV sitting there next to her in the living room. A bit too much like the scenes in movie thrillers about possessed people laying on an altar being lifted in mid-air before an intimidated priest, their helpless limbs dangling toward the floor. Even when she didn't look at it, she knew what she looked like.
It can't be helped, Gaz thought to herself. I have to move forward. I can't do that by avoiding what brings up unpleasant feelings. So she kept doing her exercises while trying not to feel like a robot zombie girl. Although the possession analogy part was hitting a bit too close to home.
Gaz relaxed herself back to the ground and let her PAK touch the floor. Then raised herself back up. She focused her thoughts and eased back into absorbing the data Mez gave her on Irken biology earlier last week. If this was what learning with a PAK was like, then no wonder Skool always frustrated Zim. And Gaz had thought she had found Skool boring back when she couldn't just upload information into her mind!
Gaz closed her eyes and let knowledge dance in front of her mind's eye as she continued her exercises. The meditation was rather therapeutic.
It was now after skool, and Zita was walking up the sidewalk from the car carrying three stacked boxes along with Dib and his new wife wearing a violet stripped shirt and a black backpack. The wife was constantly giving her distrustful and possessive looks and nearly had both hands clamped around Dib's right arm. Which was making it difficult for him to drag along the much heavier box he was bringing. Following them was a large black cat.
She didn't really remember much of Tak from her very brief enrollment during elementary skool. Whatever trouble she had stirred up in her family seemed to have gotten her sent to military skool and finally disowned or something. She was still a young and pretty woman, her eye shadow and blue hair well maintained. But those eyes of hers betrayed a painful darkness kept hidden inside. Not that this was scary in itself, but the way she struck anti-popular Dib as her territory was a bit unnerving.
Granted, she was carrying Dib's unborn child even if one couldn't tell by looking at her. So maybe it was just the hormones of early pregnancy.
The three of them turned up onto the walkway leading up to the front door. Zita didn't pay much attention to the house itself, as there was effort being made in not letting the boxes fall onto the ground and fling Gaz's dresses and undergarments across the front yard. Dib seriously needed to have rethought how to pack up the last of Gaz's things.
Zita peeked around the stack of cardboard containers as she led the trio up to the door. The treehouse in one corner appeared empty, and she was slightly disappointed that there weren't guards dressed up in ceremonial finery at either side of the front door. But the girl supposed that keeping a low profile was part of how things were done regarding a wounded and recovering princess.
Thinking of Gaz being a princess was a bit of an oxymoron and yet it was a staple element of the fairy tales Zita loved so much. Plus being rescued by her prince from the clutches of bandits was so romantic. Waiting by her side for his princess to wake up only added to that. It was almost enough to squeal out loud just thinking about it.
"Wow, Dib! Check out these lawn gnomes. They're like those paintings at the art museum. You know. The ones that no matter where you stand their eyes seem to follow you?"
"Uh, right," Dib grunted as he pulled on the box he was dragging. He didn't comment further, knowing that they were being watched and not wanting to know how the treehouse guards, Zim, or even Tak would respond if Zita showed awareness of Irken security technology. If they could get through this without somebody getting mindwiped or something, that would be a great.
Zita approached the door ahead of Dib and Tak, and awkwardly extended a lone finger away from the boxes she carried to ring the doorbell. There was a long pause before the door was opened by the cutest green dog she had ever seen. The dog abruptly charged through her legs, nearly knocking her over, and tackled Dib and Tak's cat in some strange dog wail of happiness. The two of them rolled out of the yard wailing in joy and snarling in annoyance.
Zita turned her head back after regaining her balance. Gaz sat there in the doorway sitting in a computerized wheelchair in a blue hospital gown. Somehow she looked so… ordinary.
"Come on in," Gaz addressed the crowd of three at the door as her chair whirred backward and into the living room.
Zita nervously stepped into the room, careful not to stare at Gaz. Behind her Dib dragged his box into the house and Tak took her place by his side as if to stake out what belonged to her within the living room.
Gaz looked calmer than when Zita last saw her almost two months ago. The girl had lost some weight, and her exposed arms appeared thinner and less toned than what she could recollect. Gaz's hair was combed straight down, hanging near her collarbone, and appeared to have been washed in the last hour.
Gaz seemed to pick up on it. "I know I don't look like myself. I don't really feel like myself either, but I'm alive. Right?"
Zita replied quickly. "You look good, Gaz," she said as she closed the door behind them. She didn't really know what to say.
Gaz let out a huff.
There was a small crash of heavy metal objects and the three young women turned to look at a very nervous looking Dib, who was on his knees in mid-futile effort. The box he had been dragging had tipped over with several of Gaz's medieval maces and their wall mounts crashing onto the floor. He looked at his sister, then at her hands resting on the arms of her wheelchair.
"Just leave it, Dib," Gaz spoke with a 'resigned-about-stupidity' sigh and shaking her head. "I'll have Zim take care of that later. But thanks for helping Zita get through security. I'll see you two tonight at Bloaties? We've got the whole place reserved for ourselves."
Dib, now clutching Tak's hand tightly at carelessly dropping his sister's belongings as they scattered at his feet. Slowly backing away as if his heart wanted to stand between his sister and wife and his conditioned mind wanting to hide behind Tak if his sister changed her mind about dooming him. "Sure we will, Gaz. It's our first Family Night since…"
He let the rest of the sentence drop off before he both twisted his tongue about it being Tak's first inclusion into the annual family time, and simultaneously putting his foot in his mouth about Gaz's first since being… resuscitated back to life.
"Anyway," he clumsily recovered and scratched his head with his other hand, "that should be the last of your stuff. You're sure we can keep the shelves, bed and desk for the baby?"
Gaz nodded her head. "It's easier that way, Dib. Besides, we're fully furnished downstairs. How is the baby doing?"
Dib reached out and touched Tak's belly softly, his free hand resting over Tak's hand that had also moved to that location. They both smiled with a little sparkle in their eyes. "We're all doing great. Still adjusting, but we're happy. How are the twins?"
Zita wasn't sure she heard that right. Gaz had always said the rumors at skool were false.
Gaz's expression turned a bit self-conscious, looking down at herself in that chair. "I'm told they are just fine. Still feels unreal, but I guess there is a lot for me to get used to still."
"So… these go in your room?" Zita asked politely, nodding at the stack of boxes in her arms. "We can help you unpack since, you know. You can't." Zita's faced reddened. "I'm sorry. That was really rude."
Gaz let out a resigned sigh, gazing at her chair. "But it's true. As much as I really hate to admit it out loud, I can't do a lot of things myself. Dib? Could you keep an eye on Zim?" She grimaced as if annoyed for blink of an eye. "It's alright," she said as if telling herself it was. "He's been trying to help again. You know what I mean."
Dib let go of Tak's hand. "Uh, sure. Why don't I just go do that?"
Gaz sat to one side of her subterranean bedroom with her chair out of the way while the disguised Tak opened a box and Zita opened several still empty drawers. Other boxes that Dib had brought in earlier were stacked up out of the way, giving the room a cluttered look.
Zita cast a quick eye at the red and black color scheme. It didn't look like any royal bedroom she had ever imagined, which consisted of whiles and pinks of flowing fabrics. But she was in like a real princess' bedroom! Except that she would never address her former classmate as 'Princess Gaz' out loud. Not after the look she got when she had almost slipped in the fancy elevator. Which had been really cool. Just like the glass walled ones at the mall, only they went underground.
Of course Zita could totally tell that Zim had designed the hallway leading to the bedroom. Total guy theme.
Tak lifted an article of white clothing from the first box with a curious expression. "What's this?" she asked the girl whom it belonged to. "Some sort of blind fold?"
Gaz shook her head, yet was not surprised at this in the slightest. "Uh, that's one of my bras, Tak. You know, underwear for my breasts?"
Tak held the article in two fingers and examined it closely. "I think I'm going to be needing three of these soon."
Gaz caught the confused look in Zita's eye and shook her head to indicate not to inquire about Tak's lack of knowledge about female undergarments. Zita gave the slightest of nods in return, noting Tak's flat chest. She was probably sensitive about that.
"Look," the paralyzed girl stated. "I don't know why we're unpacking anyway. I can't wear any of this anymore. Not with this thing on my back."
"What thing?" Zita asked.
Gaz's face actually reddened. Almost appeared nervous as if she were a nun lifting up her skirt during church. But she mentally choked it down.
"I have a life support pod grafted into my back. And none of my clothes are in the backless style. Makes it hard to wear things."
Zita cocked her head while behind her Tak tried to put on Gaz's bra over her regular clothes and was failing to fasten it around the backpack she wore.
"Did I hear someone mention shopping spree?" Zita asked with bright eyes.
"No!" Gaz firmly answered.
"Okay, then why haven't you just gotten everything retailored?" Zita asked as Tak gave up trying on a bra over her clothes. Unseen by Zita, she wrapped a set of three bras over her chest and midsections, her mind and PAK working things out.
Gaz tried her best to ignore Tak's exploration. To be honest, it wasn't that hard anymore given what she had to deal with on a daily basis these days. Plus in the back of her mind dark memories were trying to surface again.
"It's stupid," Gaz admitted in a half-disgusted voice. "I know I could buy new ones. But when I woke up everything was different. My whole life was different. My clothes are still the same, and it would be nice if I could keep one thing about me the same as it was before- before, you know. So I don't want to get new ones, but I don't know how to have all my clothes cut up and sewn back together as if they were the same. How do I go in and order a stranger to do something I haven't really paid attention to before and have it come out right? It's not like I could really send it back over and over without getting ruined."
Zita spoke in a soft voice. "That's not stupid. Maybe I can help a little. I mean I took Home Ec three years in a row. I can sew a little and can at least see what needs to be done."
Gaz nodded, pointing with her head to a stack of four boxes marked 'dresses.' She spoke up past Zita to Tak. "You mind giving us some space? You can tell Zim I said you can use the drafting computer. You know how he likes to find things to complain about."
Tak neatly folded several bras and clutched them into her chest as if hiding her intentions. "Zim's equipment is sub-standard and hardly worth using. But I suppose I can make an exception this once."
Zita ignored Tak's departure, busy opening up one of the cardboard boxes. She pulled out a black dress from among several identical ones just like it. She gave Gaz an eyeful of 'Really?'
"I like what I like," Gaz replied as indisputable fact, her face expressing that she was mentally crossing her arms.
Zita held up Gaz's traditional black dress. The paralyzed girl let out a breath of reluctance. Then a deeper breath as if preparing herself.
"Okay," Gaz said simply.
Zita brought the dress over to Gaz, then stopped in behind her. Unsure how to proceed.
"Hospital gowns tie up on the backside, but you're going to have to bend me forward. I… can't."
Zita only nodded, and carefully laid the dress over Gaz's bed. Then with both hands carefully bent Gaz forward so her head was leaning over her lap. The girl then stood directly behind the chair and spread the opening in Gaz's hospital gown, exposing more of the pod shaped object that was exposed in plain sight.
She let out an aborted gasp as she saw all the dark purple scars running all the way up and down on either side of Gaz's spine. About a thumbnail's length at each piece, and the column of vertebrae running down underneath the skin and muscle were distorted. Not so much in an ugly way. But noticeably more pronounced than any human's natural spine had a right to be. That grey metal pod with the large black decorative dots on the shell was clearly attached to her spine in some way. No wonder Gaz didn't want to go to a tailor. Getting gawked at by strangers, even if they tried to hide it or expressed sympathy, didn't help when a girl wanted to be treated as normal.
"H-how deep does this… support system go?" Zita asked.
"All the way into my brain," Gaz stated with a hint of resignation, knowing what her backside looked like. "Filaments controlling my heart and organs. My spinal cord looks more like coaxial cable than anything human. But at least I'm at the point where I'm not constantly wondering deep down if the PAK will fail and my next heartbeat will be my last."
Zita's heart went out to Gaz. Her surgery must have been extremely intrusive, and not just to her physical body. "I'm sorry. I'll get to work. Looks like your dress just needs a small back section cut and binding a hem around where your pod fits. I just need to measure it all out. You have something I can write on?"
She went to search the boxes for a pen and notepad. She found an old ruler and protractor she could make due with. The ruler wasn't a cloth measuring tape like a tailor's, but cheaply made and fairly flexible. She could get a fairly good idea for a first try at least. If it got too difficult her mom could lend a hand since she was really into arts and crafts.
Zita heard a cough behind her. "Zita? There is a computer pad on the bed behind you. Jot notes onto it and I'll email them to you."
She turned around and sure enough there was a really advanced electronic notepad laying on the bed. Zita could have sworn it hadn't been there a moment ago.
Zita got to work measuring distances, angles and points around Gaz's back and shoulders. All she had to do was talk into the pad computer or touch the screen to add curved lines, and it took everything down for her.
She felt like she should be happy. Here she was attending a virtual princess, tailoring a dress for her to wear out among the commoners. Just like in the fantasy movies she watched with her friends. Yet there didn't seem anything good about this experience. All those scars and pronounced backbones were so… there. Not to mention that life support machine that just hung in place, anchored into Gaz's backside. Working silently to keep her alive.
"So. I guess you have a bun in the oven after all," Zita commented between measurements. "I know you were so looking forward to having that kid in the picture. But did I hear right that it's twins? Like identical twins?"
Gaz didn't say anything.
"What's wrong?" Zita asked. "I know there is a lot on your mind and stuff, but you were so excited to meet her. Right? I mean last time I spoke to you, you could hardly wait a few more days. I thought you'd feel some happiness about it."
"It's not something you'd understand by telling you, Zita," Gaz stated without emotion. "I'd have to show you. Maybe later? I can have Lim bring the car around."
Zita didn't say anything for a moment, holding up Gaz's waiting dress up over her back to get an improved idea of how it would look and how to make it look that way. As unpleasant as the circumstances hovering over Gaz like a cloud were, Zita felt there was something a little right about her own self. Attending a princess as if a courtly Lady-in-Waiting. Just like in the fairy tale movies.
"So, if you don't mind me asking," Zita said to lighten the atmosphere of the room. "Did you have a good Honeymoon with Zim?"
Gaz blew out a huff into her lap as bent over as she was while Zita worked on the dress. "We didn't even have one. At the time, Zim was kind of like how I am now. It was a rough time for him, and I spent that whole time looking out for him. I guess a little like how he's taking care of me now."
"But please tell be you at least had a beautiful wedding!" Zita protested, imagining a fairy tale wedding fit for a princess.
Gaz shook her head. "Actually we didn't even realize we were married until it a done deal."
Zita hands froze for a moment. How horrible! the girl thought, imagining all that Gaz had been missing out on.
The girl gently pulled Gaz back up into a seating position. "Gaz, please. You have got to have a wedding. I'll plan it all out and I can be your bridesmaid and-"
Gaz's eyes glazed over for a minute as her mind's eye ran thought the scene.
She was wearing a white dress and looked down the aisle of guests. Mostly people she knew of from skool. Not that she would have ever invited them. Her small disguised guards stood at attention along two rows on either side of the room, eyes attentive and watchful. A disguised Zim stood up at the white wedding arch at the front of the pathway before her, angrily scratching at a ridiculous red and black tuxedo he was wearing. Dib stood in the center next to the Irken and holding a book to his chest, dressed all in black except for a purple ribbon that hung loosely around his neck.
Tak stood to one side dressed in fine light purple fabrics that flowed to the floor, the silk dress distorted by the belly bulge. Which was offset by the holstered side arms jammed into the pink belt around her waist to keep the cowering bridesmaids away from Dib.
As Gaz imagined herself walking up the aisle, no longer confined to a chair and traditional music filling the room. Gir wearing a pink flower girl dress pranced ahead of her with Mimi in tow, throwing baking flour into the air and causing nearby people to cough violently and covering them with white powder.
She reached the front of the room and stood next to Zim.
"This redundant ritual is a waste of the almighty ZIM's time, and pathetically hum-"
The disguised Irken was cut off by an elbow to the ribs. The guests behind her sat down and Dib opened the black book he held and began speaking.
"Dearly unwelcome. We gather here today, against our will, to witness the joining together this quote unquote man and woman in most unholy matrimony-"
"Dib!" Gaz let out a warning growl at her brother.
"What?" he exclaimed, pointing at the lines in his book. "This script is for vampire weddings and it's the closest that would fit an alie-"
The bride quickly removed her fist from her brother's stomach area, and Dib straightened back up while recovering the breath that had been forced out of him.
"Very well," Dib spoke out to the crowd once he had caught his breath. "Is there anyone here who has reason to object to this joining-"
"Zim objects! We are already bonded, married! This is a waste of Zim's time, and Gaz-blossom shouldn't be exerting herself with our smeets inside her!"
Dib quickly stepped in between the bride and groom. "The groom doesn't get to object to his own wedding ceremony, Zim! Especially when the bride's knocked up. That's my job!"
Dib hobbled back into place after a spiked heel shoe found itself on top of his foot and a fist presenting itself to the crown of his head.
"Zim, repeat after me:" Dib proceded to say. "I, Zim-"
"How DARE you steal the name of ZIM for yourself, Dib-stink!" Zim ground out of his teeth.
"What-? No, you stupid Irken! Like I'd ever take YOUR name. It's part of the friggin ceremony to repeat a vow to Gaz and you refused help to memorize the lines! Say 'I, Zim, take you Gaz Membrane to be my lawfully wedded wife.' Or is that too hard?"
Zim turned to face Gaz. He looked into her human eyes. "Zim takes Gaz-Blossom to be his human wife. There. Are we done now?"
Dib continued, ignoring that and leaving it up to Gaz to address later. "To love and honor, both in defectiveness and health, in riches and poverty, for better or worse. Probably worse."
Zim tried to repeat the line while sending an occasional warning glare at Dib. "To love and hover, in defectiveness and health, in riches- oh there will be riches! For better, and amazingness there will be- for ZIM WILL AMAZE GAZ-BLOSSOM!"
"To cherish and forsake all others, to remain with you for as long as we both shall live?"
Zim finished off his vows. "To cherry and put all other humans in sacks, and will remain- That is stupid! Zim will DIE if separated from Gaz-blossom! Zim is not stupid! Zim is with Gaz-blossom always!"
Dib ignored that, knowing this was the best Zim could do. He turned to Gaz.
"Repeat after me. I, Gaz Membrane, do take you, Zim to be my lawfully wedded husband."
Gaz spoke. "I, Gaz Membrane, do take you, Zim to be my lawfully wedded husband."
Dib continued with the reciting of the vows. "To love and obey-"
"YES!" Zim cried out. "Obey! You must obey the might of ZIM!"
Gaz ignored it. "To love and listen. Hey! I said I'll listen. Take what you can get- BUCKET!"
Zita, off to one side, quickly ran up with a pail. Gaz grabbed it and promptly threw up into it due to a brief flare up of morning sickness. The pail was quickly taken away to be emptied.
"O-kay." Dib let the word be stretched out as Gaz wiped her mouth with a damp cloth. "As we were saying. Gaz. 'For richer and poorer, for better or worse, to cherish and forsaking all others. Standing faithful with you for as long as we both shall live.'"
Gaz repeated the lines, letting some softness enter into her voice as she made her vow to Zim.
The ceremony was concluded as quickly as Dib could get away with, and Zim took Gaz by the arm and rapidly led her back down the aisle.
The crowd clapped, and raised their hands to start throwing rice. Her disguised Irken guards plowed into them, starting a one sided bar-like fight in her defense…
Gaz shook herself out of the imaginary scenario of how things probably would turn out. Zita wore an expression that indicated she was probably imagining something involving unicorns and glitter.
"Uh, yeah. Maybe I'd like to have a real wedding someday. But there is a lot to sort out in my head first, you know?" Gaz said, interrupting Zita's daydream.
She saw the uncomprehending look on Zita. "Do you think I can have something to wear this evening? We're all supposed to meet at Bloaties at nine o'clock tonight when my dad leaves work. It doesn't have to be perfect or anything. Just wearable."
"Well, of course I'll have something suitable for you to wear," Zita protested.
The deadline was almost over five hours away, and her mom could coach her through making the adjustments without glaring mistakes. Maybe not good enough for an Evening Ball, but perhaps suitable enough to wear to a private family gathering.
"But I don't get why you'd put off having a wedding. That's really important for a girl! I've been planning mine since I was eight. I don't think you want to walk down the aisle with your belly reaching the altar before you do." Zita grimaced. Talking to a sort-of-princess like Gaz was harder than she thought. Not like in the fairy tales where everyone was so polite with elegantly scripted words. Gaz was… well not exactly a friend, but familiar. "Sorry. I'm not used to addressing a prin- an important person. I'm not even addressing you like I should. Is it your highness? Your eminence? Your worship?"
Gaz would have liked to burst out either with laughing or snarls at Zita being so absurd. But her mind was focused elsewhere. Some things just couldn't be conveyed with words. They had to be shown.
"Zita? There is a place I'm not ready to go to yet. At least not alone. Can you grab a blanket for me and take me outside? We'll drop you off at your house on the way back."
Zita pushed Gaz's chair down the ramp of the 'car' they had rode in after the small, very serious and totally not ceremonial guards stomped outside. It had been nerve racking, trying not to make eye contact with anyone in that crowded space as Gaz was fitted with protective armor around her torso. Then Zita rewrapping the dark blue blanket around her. Everyone in the crowded space surrounded by the insanely thick metal plates that made up the vehicle. The limo was suited more for driving through the wilderness and withstanding rockslides than transporting a princess in style to some social event.
The guards stood in a perimeter, inspiring other rare pedestrians to walk on the other side of the street. Not that there were many since most were already doing so. The urban area was kind of slummy and vacant of heavy traffic, but the two brick buildings on either side of this run down alleyway were burned out shells. Standing almost ghostlike amid the urban surroundings. The whole area giving off a vibe that 'Something Bad' had happened here.
Gaz told her to wait a moment while three of the short guards ran down the alley, waving some sort of device in their hands as they proceeded to secure the other end of the roadway. Zita looked down past the other girl's shoulder. She couldn't see Gaz's expression, but her cheeks looked pale and about to break out in a sweat.
"Okay."
Gaz guided her chair forward, determined to go in there without being pushed into it. Zita followed closely behind. Scorch marks from fires scarred the brick walls and pavement still.
The two girls came to a stop before two crushed oblong shapes that had been hammered into the asphalt, radiating cracks outward from the force. The blacktop was scorched in a fiery blast pattern outward from this spot.
Gaz stopped, staring at the spot on the ground. Zita took another step to stand next to her.
The other girl's voice was shaking a little. "Zita. My Jeep broke down here and I got mugged. They were idiots, and I chased off the first two. But I should have known better than to stick around. It all went real bad. For me it's only been two weeks since I lay here dying and Zim showed up trying to save me. But I wasn't going to make it. My vision was going out and I remember Zim holding me. I remember my last breath was begging Zim to make our child after I was gone so he wouldn't be alone."
"Zita," Gaz spoke in a ghostly whisper as she stared at that place on the ground. "I died here. I remember what it was like to die here. Fading into nothingness. That I wasn't just passing out. I wasn't going to wake up again."
Gaz sniffed, and Zita put a hand on her shoulder. Realizing that Gaz was, in a way, visiting her own grave. How brave and strong she was. Like a wounded but knightly princess standing before a dragon's cave so another could comprehend that the upcoming struggle would be a demanding one. Yet determined to vanquish the monster once and for all.
The girl had guards surrounding her at a respectful distance, making sure no harm would get through to their charge. But guards weren't people a royal could take into personal confidence like this. They weren't attendants or friends, and that's what Gaz needed to visit her own memorial. Something she needed to do.
"I was gone, Zita. I mean really gone. Then I wake up and it's a month later. But I've been changed. Part of me is suddenly artificial. A piece of me feels like I'm half robot. I woke up pregnant, but it's as if I don't know how I got that way. My former life ended here suddenly, and just as suddenly I woke up to a whole new existence."
Gaz looked up at Zita, finally noticing the hand on her shoulder since she couldn't feel it resting there. "Even I have my limits, Zita. It's a lot for my mind to wrap itself around all at once. I know I'll get better, and adapt to my new life. But my support group says to take it slowly. One thing at a time."
Under her hand, Zita could almost feel Gaz's spirit steel itself. "I died," the girl heard Gaz partially tell herself, "but I'm back. I have to depend on others for my own personal needs, but I'm not alone anymore."
Zita followed Gaz as she guided her wheelchair out of the alley and back to the giant eight-wheeled car. Now she understood a little. Right now Gaz didn't need to catch up with what she had missed out on in the past. Right now Gaz needed to catch up with the future.
But after that? Maybe Gaz and Zim could renew their vows like some elderly people did and have the honeymoon they deserved. After all, everyone wanted a fairy tale wedding at least once in their lives. At least according to Zita.
Nick the Slick sat in a recliner near his desk, relaxing by reading an old novel. On the delicately carved wood end table next to him were a stack of papers with rough drawings sketched out in pencil.
The day had been productive as usual, but slower than business had been weeks ago. The men with bug sweeper gadgets had swept the building complex, and as usual had found nothing. Men pretending to be plumbers had discreetly checked the surrounding buildings as well for surveillance teams running parabolic microphones and laser based listening devices that could replay a conversation by measuring the vibrations sound waves caused as they bounced off glass windows. Nothing had been found there either.
But business was down eleven percent this month.
There was a knock on the door.
"Come in."
The door opened. A heavily built and tall man entered the room wearing an open black suit jacket with the sleeves rolled up, and a grey turtleneck sweater to go with it. He closed the door behind him with his meaty hands, and took two steps forward to await acknowledgement.
Nick bookmarked his place in the classic novel and set it aside. "Yes, Mr. Thank-you?"
The big, bulky man stood before him with his hands clasped in front. "The Private Investigator contacted us. He was quite upset at not being informed at the level of what he may have been confronted with in his surveillance. His office has refunded the rest of our retainer and will no longer offer their services."
"As long as he got something for us, it is of no consequence," the criminal middleman replied out of hand. Pawns usually got upset at being pawns, but they served their purpose. Plus the retainer fee had been refunded. So it wouldn't be a total loss.
Honestly, Nick had thought the private investigator was a long shot to begin with. It was presented as a simple job. Get a lead on how to make contact with a girl or her family so that a tragic matter could be settled out of court. The P.I. had gone on the 'Scene of the Crime' hunch, as family or friends eventually showed up to visit the location of a tragic event to leave memorial tokens. So the Investigator's plan was to park himself at some distance away and photograph who showed up.
It paid well for three weeks of sitting there doing nothing on a hunch that may not go anywhere. But it seemed the Investigator saw something unusual enough to decide he had been played and wanted no part of the matter.
Mr. Thank-You pulled a single photo out of his jacket and turned it over to his boss.
Nick took a look at the photo and then casually placed it on the wooden table next to his chair. "Very well. That will be all, Mr. Thank-you."
The large man gave a nod and respectfully took his leave. Once the door closed, Nick the Slick picked up the papers sitting neatly on the table and moved himself back to his desk.
He studied the hand drawn pictures first. They were crude pencil drawings, made with shaking hands, of some machine standing on two legs and exaggerated weapons for arms. Some sort of biped military chassis. Most of those were about the same, drawn from different angles of what Tinkle's men had seen that terrible night. The depictions had been hard to believe, and placed in the category of 'far left of fantasy.'
Then there was the redrawn images that the broken Tinkle obsessively and repeatedly scrawled on the basement floor. At least when he wasn't banging his head into the padded walls trying to get the images out of his head. That one was only silhouettes in shadow, but drawn with the detail of one mentally consumed by doom.
It showed looming shapes of large robotic outlines, a row of small but armed figures in the forefront. A large tank-like vehicle with two hovercraft hanging in midair within the background. And an empty wheelchair behind a girl held in aloft by four hinged lines protruding from her back.
Nick had set the drawings aside as raving rubbish. Now he sat at his desk with the new photo in his hand. It showed a large armored vehicle, a paralyzed girl with purple hair being pushed in a wheelchair before the view of her was blocked by the corner of a scarred brick wall.
He removed a magnifying glass from the desk drawer and began studying the image in depth. Slowly taking in each detail. The girl bundled in a thick blue blanket and the black wheelchair closely matched the outline of what Tinkle's had drawn, her necklace in exactly the same place. Hair combed in the same way and at the same length. The outlines of the bodyguards were the same size and build, but the photo now showed them clearly.
They were indeed short, but wore professional uniforms of grey urban camouflage. There were objects in hip holsters, and not the civilian non-lethal 'personal safety deterrent' kind. Their alertness was clearly evident, as was their determination to unpleasantly deal with anything foolish enough to get close. However, the sizes, shapes and numbers correlated exactly with the redrawn image of what Tinkle's had illustrated.
The vehicle captured in the photo was at a different angle than what Tinkle's had recorded, but its hull matched what was recorded by hand. And with the open loading ramp in the back showed the car was incredibly armored. All indications showed these were professionals, very well-funded, even better equipped and very serious about their task. Not typical bodyguards. More along the lines of private mercenaries.
This was not good considering the lack of willingness to settle the matter like cultured human beings.
Nick the Slick leaned back in his leather chair, his hands clasped together before his nose in deep thought. Membrane Labs was well known for their private security. But if professional soldiers had been brought in to protect the girl… then it was no wonder his lackeys couldn't do anything about the surveillance or discover who was probing his business affairs. And cutting into his profits.
The man let out a deep sigh. It just couldn't be helped. It took two sides to resolve a dispute reasonably and accept mutual terms both sides could live with. But only one to pursue a wasteful vendetta.
Right now, the photo indicated that the other side was well equipped to cause trouble. Nick on the other hand was more equipped to deal with local hoodlums and legal inconveniences. That would have to be seen to.
Nick let another sigh escape into the private room. Selling weapons was profitable business, but not something he wanted to deal directly in. On the other hand security was part of the expense of doing business, and it looked like he may have to make arrangements to protect his interests.
He picked up the antique styled phone sitting on his desk. This quarter's profits were probably going to be severely amputated if the situation wasn't resolved peacefully. But there was always a next quarter if a business could weather the storm of a financial downturn. On the bright side, if this matter could be settled at the table instead of in the streets, weapons bought to keep himself secure could be later sold for a tidy profit to more adventurous criminals. In another country, of course.
"Gomez? This is Nick. How is the family? Good, good. Anyway, remember the Franko deal three years ago? It looks like I need to upgrade my security, and I'd like you to inquire what kind of inventory you can obtain for me. No, no. Looks like I may have an armored car problem, and you know how I am about covering all the possibilities. No, think bigger than that. Yes, a very big armored car. No, I just don't want one crashing through my front gate."
Nick mentally took notes as the conversation went on. No directly incriminating words were exchanged, but the communication made clear as to what may be required in the future versus what may be obtained. More finalized terms of a deal would be made later.
If it came to a standoff, perhaps it could be made clear that agreeing to restitution terms and seeing justice served would be more profitable for all involved rather than the waste of a destructive conflict.
Manpower would not be a problem. There were plenty of clients who depended on Nick the Slick to broker deals and dispose of incriminating merchandise. He could think of fifty that would be inconvenienced by continued disruptive efforts. Others would be in it for the money. Perhaps not particularly high quality for security purposes, but would look fairly intimidating.
The hard part would be doing so in a way that didn't draw the attention of the authorities. However that was why clients paid for Nick the Slick's services. A middleman could make things happen quietly and discreetly, and a middleman's most reliable client was always himself.
Mez, sitting in the depths of the base within his freshly polished surgical room, opened a communications link on a secure frequency and configured a complex encryption algorithm to scramble the signal. Several seconds went by.
An older and slightly scarred Irken appeared on the display before him.
"Boss," Mez informally greeted the image. "General Tak has agreed to sign the contract. She was very specific and strict as to the parameters and what is expected. Plus there are so many topics of study to explore! Did you know that-"
"Mez," the Irken interrupted. "Your brain is wandering again. What about the contract?"
Mez's face took on a pouty expression. "I am sending the specific conditions and objectives now. One team only and completely out of sight. The General insists on absolutely no impact on the local population or landscape. She wants the target group and any supporters herded into a specific location and accomplished as if we were never here."
There was a nod at the other end of the call. "Operating in the shadows is what we specialize in. Plus it will still be nearly a thousand monies. Timeline?"
"She wants you to take your time and be thorough. All involved parties are to be 'encouraged' to remain within the target zone in two months. No sooner, no later."
The Irken on the display licked his lips. He ran his mercenary company out on the fringes of galactic affairs, and often was hired to silently disrupt projects, objectives, or gather information from secure places. Even being restricted to a single team and on an extended duration much longer than a job usually took, the income would be nearly a year's worth of employment for each member.
Mez continued speaking. "Unfortunately General Tak was most upset at having been told that you were monitoring her defense area. And was behind the public 'Behind-the-Scenes' broadcasting of Governor Zim and Lady Gaz before they secured their computer network. I know you have a bone to pick with the Taller's and only wanted to broadcast an example of what a Taller should be…"
The sentence was left hanging, but the other Irken understood without his company's medical specialist going further. Given the impact on the galaxy at large, it probably wasn't the best idea ever. But on the other hand it had resulted in overwhelming disarray for Taller society to mishandle, which was a good thing. Irken Tallers were so… entitled. But causing trouble for a potential employer was never good.
The Irken on the other end of the call let out a grunt and began going over the received terms on a Pad. Sometimes it was a tremendous pain being made to be so clearly aware. But he had been designed for battlefield reconnaissance. Infiltration, observation, and analysis were key skills but had made life difficult when there was no 'off switch' and Tallers didn't want to hear about their shortcomings.
He would have to smooth things a bit with his prospective employer. Well, he had plenty of practice doing that.
Mez spoke up again after several moments of silence. "I have also gone over the PAK diagnostic logs like you asked. You're speculating on Governor Zim turned out to be correct. He's not a typical defect. His PAK is one of the experimentals. Like us."
Nox froze in his examination of the Pad in his hand, and slowly turned his face back to the screen. He had been searching for others like him for over a century. The project to upgrade the Irken Army had not turned out as expected and had been scrapped. A few other 'failed' prototypes had been found and gathered into his mercenary company, all facing ridicule at being unable to measure into Irken society due to their… quirks that came with being so highly specialized.
"Which PAK?" he asked.
Mez answered. "Armored Assault and Fire Support. But from what I can tell, that PAK turned out to be so potentially dangerous that someone demanded a last minute failsafe. Probably scribbled some random thing down on the blueprint to meet the deadline. I think he was supposed to be half asleep except when pointed at an enemy. Instead it seems to have a more disruptive effect during the stand-down mode."
Nox didn't say anything. This situation wasn't like finding another wayward prototype that was failing at measuring up to Irken norms. Zim was a Governor, uncontrollable, and safely on the other side of the Galaxy. Not to mention had bonded to a native, which had shockingly met his parameters of what an example Taller should be like. Zim had already found his own place.
Mez again spoke. "However, I found two other PAKs in the logs. The Battlefield Coordinator and the Dropship Pilot. General Tak and a Logistics Specialist Roz who makes the exclusive Earth run."
Nox sat back in his Irken style chair. One planet. One lousy worthless planet on the nowhere side of the galaxy and it had half of the missing prototype Irkens on it who had found their own place. No, there would be no gathering of these last ones in. He would keep quiet about this and support them as best as he could for the time being. Quietly and from the shadows.
His image on the display called up his satellite network. Being able to locate work around the galaxy while not exactly being an upstanding Irken citizen meant staying on the fringes, hidden and able to relocate, however still being able to be contacted by those seeking his talents. Plus he had been the original surveyor of the galactic 'Arm to Nowhere' long ago. He had kept the original survey probes active and reporting to him after he had returned. It was probably the best place in the universe to disappear if that ever needed to happen.
And having an ear on Zim's exile mission had been what had started his eventual speculation. Especially when their computer was almost bleeding information into space after their bonding. Substituting a number for Irken letters in sequential order was the first example in cryptography every smeet of every species learned on the first day of Secret Codes Class. It wasn't an actual suggestion.
"Tell General Tak I am transferring the surrounding sector's survey probes to her control," Nox ordered, as he tapped at several lighted buttons on the panel before him. "And offer her my assurance that it was merely a housekeeping oversight from long ago. And don't tell them anything about their PAKs."
However they were fellow prototypes. Thrown away for how they were over-designed, with unforeseen side effects, and not fitting in to the standard Irken template. "Let them know we can arrive tomorrow through the hypergate. Our covert specialists will take over the harassment part of the operation according to specifications. The General can then let the Governor's Own unit focus on their primary tasks."
Gaz sat in her wheelchair at the head of the restaurant table next to a disguised Zim. The Irken wearing another pair of thick work gloves over his normal black gloves, held up another slice of pizza for her to bite into. Bloatie's was empty of other customers since the pizza parlor had been rented for a private party. Her guards were unseen outside, probably with snipers up on the roof as well.
She wore her traditional black dress, which now fit snuggly around her PAK. Not the striped tights that she normally wore with it, since there was no point letting Zim near the delicate material. It felt good, wearing her old clothes. A familiar piece of her old life that remained with her. Perhaps the first dress had been cut a little rough, but it was worth it just to have something to wear that actually fit. Not to mention Zim was actually starting to get the hang of getting his wife dressed.
Her father was present as well and sat near the window next to Zim. He was jabbing away excitedly at a laptop that she had given him as 'college science project.' It contained schematics of Doomwind's major systems. The more peaceful ones at least. And since none of it was Irken military technology, her PAK didn't burp into her mind that perhaps that wasn't a good idea.
Professor Membrane had been radiantly proud of his daughter for a whole ten seconds before he dived into the data files. Accepting the story that being stuck in a chair all day gave her plenty of time to think. Of course several errors were put in for her father to correct in order to give it more plausibility. However, Membrane Labs would one day be able to solve future refit problems once their single ship reached a point that it needed a thorough overhaul. The SEN could handle small stuff, but technical science fields and heavy manufacturing wasn't their forte.
Dib was scarfing down pizza slices and next to him sat Tak. Covered by her own holographic disguise, she was poking at a tofu pizza with a knife and fork. The human appearance had her eyes down, not looking at everyone else feeding themselves with their bare, greasy hands like hopelessly satisfied philistines.
No one was really talking, and Zim was grimacing at the clear sounds of human jaws slapping at human food. But the seats around the table were full. She was surrounded by an expanding family, and eventually they would need two tables moved together in order to seat them all.
Zim dropped the slice of pizza he was holding for Gaz into her lap. Then promptly ordered one of the non-working animatronic robots, poorly plagiarized after cartoon characters to defeat the legal system, to clean her dress by licking it. Not getting a response, Zim in disgust ordered Dib to do it. Both Dib and Tak told the Irken Governor to shut up and clean it himself before Gaz regained the use her arms and strangled him.
Zim recoiled dramatically at having to venture into a human public bathroom to retrieve a damp towel.
Underneath the table, Gaz exercised her fingers and toes. It would be a while longer, but the paralysis was starting to wear off. Then she could properly smack her husband upside the head for dropping pizza onto her dress. She hadn't even been wearing it for thirty minutes yet!
Given everything, this was the best Family Night Gaz had ever experienced.
Zim and Dib were at the 'Wack-A-Shrew' machine trying to outdo each other, and no doubt at this point were imagining using the foam hammers on each other as well. Zim was crying out loudly that Dib faced imminent defeat, and Dib was being just as loud. At least they were behaving. Tak was over at an arcade machine driving an animated car recklessly through crowded city streets.
Professor Membrane was still absorbed in the laptop sitting on the dining table, hunched over and appearing like he was attempting to telepathically mind-meld with the device as he typed at the keys. But at least he was present.
Gaz sighed. Now was as good a time as any. She moved her wheelchair away from the table and rolled over next to Tak.
"Tak? You do know that you're supposed to evade the police in that game?" the girl asked as she watched Tak smash her battered car into a police cruiser and pushing it swiftly into a retirement home.
"That sounds boring," Tak responded as the animated car, now sparking its way down the road on three wheels and apparently leaking oil, took off again and raced for the nearest police road block.
Gaz let it go. They had plenty of tokens, and her husband no doubt would have been gleefully running down all the human pedestrians he could. She looked around, noting that everyone else was at a safe distance.
"Tak? I have a giant favor to ask of you. You're not going to like hearing this, and I'm not liking it either. But it's something I can only ask of a sister. An Irken sister"
The disguised Irken caused another police cruiser to spin out of control into a doughnut shop, gaining reputation points.
"Zim can't respond to me," Gaz spoke quietly so the others wouldn't overhear. "Not like how Dib can respond to you." There was a long pause. "I don't have an Irken egg sac-."
Tak's animated car abruptly crashed into a peanut stand and sailed into the air. It plowed through a large plate glass window and into an art museum, which promptly burst into flames.
The Irken slowly turned her head to stare at Gaz.
"Look, I don't want to be doing this either, Tak," Gaz spat out. "I know how territorial Irkens are about their bond. I wouldn't be doing this if there was another way. It's just I'm human and I don't produce anything that could cause Zim to go through the… you know. Change."
"That is disgusting," Tak nauseously said out loud. Being Irken, certain concepts still didn't belong together. Especially mating and Zim. She had an expression of one who wanted to search for a vomit inducing device.
Gaz felt just as uncomfortable, but for different reasons and without the desire to vomit. Plus she was trespassing on Tak's boundaries regarding her bond with Dib.
She swallowed her pride. It was far easier than normal, even in these days. Visiting the site with Zita had required three hours of meditation to settle her nerves back down to manageable levels. However, she steeled her determination to see this through.
"Tak. You have something special with my brother. Zim bathes me all the time, and dresses me up. I've been thinking about it a lot lately. It used to be that Zim not noticing me in that way was a comfort. But I don't want him to be a clueless idiot forever. I find myself wanting to see him desire me as his wife. You know, they way Dib probably looks at you."
Tak didn't say anything. She turned her head back at the arcade machine and looked that the large displayed letters on the machine that read 'Game Over.'
"An Irken woman generates pheromones when she starts her cycle, Tak. It is supposed to start her bondmate's cycle in turn. Mez can't take my human ones and synthesize what they would be if I were Irken without a… template."
Tak remained silent.
Gaz went on in an even quieter tone. "What you and Dib shared when you created your smeet, that was very special. Wasn't it? I'm carrying Zim's smeets too, but it wasn't special. It came from a tragedy, not..."
Gaz didn't finish her sentence.
Tak finally spoke. "You do not know what you are asking of me."
Tak turned and looked down at Gaz in her wheelchair. The thought of Zim responding to her- that was just so abhorrent she couldn't even think about it. Not only that, those sort of things belonged to her Dib alone.
But she also remembered the conception of her smeet. And what that meant to a mated pair. Tak thought about what being a mate truly was. What Gaz had was more of a science experiment than what a mate would have with her partner.
The Irken thought about Dib. How it would be if they just shared a house together. How much she would have missed out on in her partnership with Dib. Tak remembered their time back when she had been rescued from Dirt and Dib had been repeatedly washing her. Taking care of her. Tending to her.
"I will not let that freak of an Irken near me during my… Dib time," Tak got out into the open.
"Wha- Eww!" Gaz shook her head violently to rid herself of gross thoughts about a certain Irken exobiologist sitting there with a notepad. "No, no. Just… just can you lend him a washcloth that touched your antennae before you… go find Dib?"
Tak looked into Gaz's eyes. The purple irises of the Irken's holographic disguise looked disturbed in a sympathetic sort of way.
"Look, Tak. I don't want to go to Mez for this either. It's so embarrassing and none of his business."
Tak spoke up, now in a determined voice. "I will NOT go to Mez with this. Or anyone else. Ever."
Gaz looked disappointed, but had been expecting that answer. She understood Tak's position. It was a difficult thing for her to ask as a human. It would be even more so as an Irken.
"Do you respond to Zim?" Tak asked nervously in a quiet voice. Now it was her that was trespassing.
Gaz's cheeks blushed. "When he's undressing me for a bath. And during. I can't feel anything, and he's just scrubbing me down with a rag, but still-."
Tak folded her arms. "Then give me your old clothes before they get processed. I may not specialize in biology like that Mez or toy with nature like Zim. But I learned invader biochemistry. It is the first step in developing chemical weapons. I will look into this myself. I won't trust anyone else with even my scent. This will remain between us. No one else."
Gaz nodded, her face flush. "Thank you, Tak. If you ever need help from me as a sister…"
The human girl didn't finish, but Tak nodded in acknowledgement. Dib's smeet within her was alive and growing thanks to the human sitting before her. Gaz had done much to help her with cravings, bonding with her smeet, and other 'girly' things. They had shared pregnancy complaints. Perhaps this was what a sister bondship was like to the humans. To be able to ask something one couldn't ask anyone else, because the other girl was in the same place you yourself were.
Not the 'other side' of the same monie like Dib was to her. But perhaps a corresponding monie in the same expense account. That sort of made sense.