Disclaimer: Me no own Zim.
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The car pulled up to the school and parked near the office. Zim and Gaz were escorted out of the squad car, uncuffed, and dragged to the Dean's office by their collars. A brawny policeman dragged them through the hall, their feet hardly touching the ground. He reached the office and threw them both in.
When they staggered to their feet, they were faced by the Dean of students, glaring at them with contempt. He commanded them both in his office and thanked the policeman for bringing them in.
"What the HELL do you think you're doing!" he screamed when Zim and Gaz were seated. They both crossed their arms and prepared for the lecture.
"You could have been killed, or worse, KILLED someone else! This kind of reckless behavior cannot be tolerated." He scanned them both with his eyes, stopping temporarily on the pentagram necklace around Gaz's neck. She cocked an eyebrow.
"No one is on the street this early – HELL, hardly anyone drives down that street to begin with. We weren't endangering anybody. And as for us-" see looked at Zim, then looked back at the dean. "If we want to take risks' that's our business." The dean became even more enraged.
"I'm calling your parents. You two are lucky you're minors, or else you would have been arrested long ago." He opened a file cabinet drawer forcefully, and yanked out their files.
He first opened the file from the 'X' drawer. Zim had used the pseudonym 'Xavier' as a last name. The dean yanked out the contact card and punched in the number with a stabbing motion.
He finished, and tapped the desk top with a fevered motion, trying to keep his rage under control. He cradled the phone under his ear and waited impatiently for a response.
Of course, Zim and Gaz both knew, that there never would be a response. And there wasn't one at the false number Zim gave him as his Dad's work either. The dean hung up with a growl and dialed Gaz's house.
"Hello?" asked Prof. Membrane when he answered the phone. The dean was almost startled that Gaz and Dib's rarely seen father was there.
"Um, yes, this is Mr. McCabe, the dean at Gaz's high skool."
"Well, hello. I'm sorry I must make this brief, I'm conducting a very delicate experi-"
There was a large boom heard from the other end of the line. The dean went pale.
"Cancel that, take all the time you need. What can I do for you?"
"Well, um…" Mr. McCabe was always a bit nervous when talking to the world- renowned Dr. Membrane, but it happened so infrequently that when he did communicate with him, the entire affair was magnified. He cleared his throat and finally spoke.
"Your daughter Gaz was just brought in for reckless driving by a squad car. I want you to know that this is the second time she has been brought in for this, and once more would call for her to be suspended."
Gaz made a fist and stabbed her elbow backward in a victorious motion. Zim hand to stifle a laugh with his hand.
At that point, Prof. Membrane began to yell.
"Yes but-" cried the Dean.
Prof. Membrane was talking about god-given rights, and something about suing the school if they busted her again. Prof. Membrane was a fan of racing himself.
Finally, the Dean gave up. He ripped two passes off a pad, scribbled wildly on them and thrust them to Gaz and Zim. He told them he would have their asses on a platter the next time they pulled a stunt like this. They both got up and left without a word.
Out in the hall, they released their laughter. The Dean had nothing and he knew it. Gaz put her hands on her hips and nodded triumphantly.
"I like how that went," she said. They grabbed their backpacks off the bench outside the office and walked down to their classes.
Zim was a bit more conservative. "Maybe we should lay low – just for a while. They could get suspicious and show up at my house."
Gaz looked at him. She knew he lived alone, but she didn't know why. She really didn't care.
"Yea maybe your right," she said, looking at the ground. "For whatever reasons you live without parents, it none of anyone's business. I don't care why, but social services would."
She glanced up at him. "But as soon as you turn eighteen you have no excuse."
Zim laughed. "Deal. I was gonna beat you anyway."
Gaz cocked an eyebrow. "Oh yea, sure. You say that now. But on the hill you were eating my dust," She stuck out her arms like they were turning a steering wheel. "Burning rubber – it's what I live for."
Zim smiled. "Yea, and take into account your insane – I have got quite a competitor on my hands."
Gaz slung an arm around Zim's neck and they continued to walk down the corridor.
"You're damn strait ya' do. And we're gonna settle this dispute tomorrow."
Zim groaned. "Oh, Gaz, no. I do not want to go out of my way just to prove I won. Besides – conference is tomorrow, so I have no time."
Gaz pushed him away playfully. "So now the jock doesn't have time to hang out with dorks' like me." She crossed her arms and pretended to weep.
"Sometimes I don't even know who you are anymore, Zim." She cried, stopped to peek through her fingers, and then cried again. Zim laughed.
"Hey, I didn't know I was gonna make the basketball team. My counselor said I had to have some extra curriculars' if I wanted to get into my top choice college. It was a fluke that I made all ten baskets is a row."
Gaz sighed. "Fine. But you forfeit."
"Fine. I wouldn't want to evoke your wrath or anything."
Gaz smiled wickedly. "No. We don't want that do we." She laughed evilly, then stopped abruptly and cleared her throat. Zim shook his head.
"You're nuts."
"Would you have it any other way?"
They arrived at her class and she walked in. He heard her just before the door closed.
"Gaz, you're late."
"Bit me."
Zim continued down the hall to his locker, where he dropped his backpack and brought out a concealed cellular phone he had snuck in. He called GIR.
"GIR? This is Zim," he said, talking over the machine. "Pickup."
A moment later the small robot answered. "Yeeeeeeeeesssssssss?"
"Nothing, just checking up. See you later." He hung up, turned the phone off and hid it in his locker.
Despite the fact Zim had been stranded on Earth for 7 years, there was still an element of paranoia when dealing wit his house. It had no security like his old one. The only protection was GIR, and Zim checked in periodically to sure everything was OK. He walked down the hall and into his class.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
At lunch, Zim sat with a select group of people who didn't completely despise his existence. He didn't talk, just ate what little of the cafeteria food he could digest and kept to himself. It was an improvement from elementary skool, because in high skool he was not ridiculed.
He took a sip of pop as he saw Gaz approaching. For a moment she seemed to be struggling with turning the corner, but he smiled when he realized she was dragging Dib by the ear over to him.
Dib hadn't changed much at all. He still wore glasses and a black trench coat. His hairstyle hadn't' changed, in fact the only thing that had changed was his height. Dib was a few inches shorter than Zim, and one or two shorter than Gaz. Gaz, dressed in a black tank top, baggy black jeans, black boots and various pieces of metallic jewelry looked considerably more intimidating than her brother. She commanded him to sit at the table and he obeyed.
"Well," she said, standing behind her brother, insuring his obedience, "Dib here is going to give us a ride to Monroe to pick up our cars." Dib snapped to attention and spun to meet Gaz.
"WHAO! You didn't say anything about him! I mean, you're bad enough, but him too!?"
Gaz squinted one eye and opened the other wide. "YES, Dib. All you have to do is drop us off at Monroe and Walsh. Quit whining or I'll gouge out your eyes."
She plopped down next to him and took a sip of Zim's pop without asking.
"But-but-but-" said Dib, or the brink of yelling from frustration.
"Yea," said Zim, "And be quick about it. I got a game today."
Dib stood and pointed an angered finger at Zim.
"Shut up alien! I know your plans and they won't work! I'll prove you're from another world if I have to kill to do it!" Zim slapped Dib's hand away with the back of his hand. He stood and leaned over the table at Dib.
"When will you quite, Dib? When will you stop lying to yourself and just accept the fact that you're delusional." Zim said, regaining a bit of an edge to his voice.
Dib opened his mouth in shock, then clenched his teeth in anger. "Delusional, yea right. I know what you are and you can't deny me! I-"
Gaz lifted Zim's try of uneaten food and slammed it into Dib's face. Dib just stood as the tray slowly slid off his face and chest. "You idiot," yelled Gaz. "If he was so set on conquering the Earth, then why hasn't he done it already!?" Zim had a feeling of being kicked in the gut as she said that, but the feeling was fleeting and passed through him momentarily.
Dib furiously tried to whip away crusty mashed potatoes and peas. "You'll admit it some day, ZIM! And when you do, I'll be there to laugh. Ah- HAHAHAHAHAHAHA…" With that he ran off to the bathroom.
"Dork." Said Gaz, and continued to sip pop.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
That night, after Dib had protestingly driven him to pick up his car, Zim had gone to the game. He was a starter, and a rather good player considering he had never played the game on Irk. He dribbled the ball through his legs and stared intently into the eyes of the defenseman in front of him. A smirk crossed his face and a bead of sweat fell down the side of his brow. When the defenseman's guard was down Zim spun against him and make a break for the basket. He made wide strides, and finally jumped for it, the ball rolling angelically off the tips of his fingers and falling into the basket as he hung from it.
He dropped from the rim and cheers echoed through the gym. He received high- fives from his teammates and applause from his coach. The other team greeted him with nasty looks. He just smiled at them.
They grabbed the ball and started towards Zim's team's basket. Zim ran up, and was on the guy holding the ball. It was easy; Zim towered over the guy, who couldn't have been more that five three. He tried to make a break for it, but Zim was on him. In a desperate and cheap move, the guy elbowed Zim in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. He fell to his knees and held his middle.
The referee blew his whistle and called the foul. Zim's coach ran up to him.
"You OK?" he said. "That was a cheap trick! Can you go on?"
Several of Zim's teammates were now surrounding him. "Does it hurt?" one of them asked.
Zim sneered. "No, it feels good. OF COURSE IT HURTS!"
"Son!" cried the coach, trying to recapture Zim's attention. "I said are you still able to play?" Zim, doubled over, glanced at the guy who had hit him. He was getting congratulations from his team and even his coach. Zim spit on the floor. "Yea, I can play."
"Alright then." The coach stood and replaced several of the starters. Zim stood, caught the ball from the ref and waited at the free throw line to take his shots.
They assembled around the edges of the free throw line and Zim dribbled several times before lazily shooting the ball. Swish, nothing but net. The crowd clapped and the opposing team sneered.
He dribbled, lined up his shot, but stopped for a moment. He made full eye contact with the guy who had hit him, his piercing stare making him think twice about hitting him. It was for only a second, but for the player who hit Zim it was an eternity.
Zim made the shot and it went in. The crowd cheered as the game proceeded. Zim jogged after the ball, at all times keeping an eye on the prick that had elbowed him.
The ball holder dribbled down the court, but in a brilliant come-from- behind move Zim stole it. Spinning on his heal, he passed the ball to his teammate Rob, who rushed down the court. Zim followed, directly behind the punk who hit him.
About ten feet from the basket where Rob was making his shot, Zim deliberately stepped on the back of the puck's shoe. The kid, not expecting this, tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground hard. Zim pretended not to notice and followed the ball to the basket, where he made a rebound and won the game.
The coach for the other team tried to call the foul, but the ref hadn't seen it and told him the point counted. Zim jogged back the bench and laughed mischievously. The player that had fallen was being helped up by several of his teammates. He had probably twisted his ankle. Zim glanced at him over his shoulder and winked. The player went pale, and limped back to his bench with the assistance of his teammates.
Zim hung a towel around his neck and walked into the locker room. He showered, changed, and was lacing up his shoes when the coach walked up to him.
"Zim! There's a phone call for ya'." Zim, a little bewildered, said OK and took the phone. Who would be calling him?
"Hello?" he said, cradling the phone between his shoulder and jaw as he laced up his Adidas. A groan came from the other end of the line.
Zim stopped tying his shoe and help the phone to his ear with both hands. "GIR?"
Another groan. "GIR is this you?"
"Yes master…" he groaned, louder this time. Zim began to worry. "GIR what's wrong?"
"I…I…don't…feel so good…" and with that the line disconnected. Zim shot up from where he was sitting and stared at the phone.
"Hey, you OK?" asked Matt. Matt's hair was spiked like Zim's but brown. "I said are you OK? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Zim shook his head and handed the phone to Matt. "Give this to coach Lawson. I've gotta go." He shrugged on his jacket and began pulling his backpack out of the locker.
"We're going for pizza right now. Aren't you coming?"
Zim tossed his keys in the air, caught them, and turned towards the door. "No, I can't. Something's come up."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Zim raced like a madman home. Not for fun, but out of fear. What had happened? Had someone broken in and hurt GIR? If Dib has hurt GIR so help me God…
Zim screeched to a halt in his driveway and ran to the front door. As he thumbed through his keys he observed that there were no signs of forced entry. Somehow that made him worry more.
He swung the door open and turned his head frantically in search of GIR. "GIR?" he yelled. A muffled groan came from somewhere in the house. "GIR!" he yelled louder. He dropped his backpack and ran to the back of the house. In his room, he found GIR curled up in the comforter, groaning. He rushed to the side of the bed, knelt, and pulled the little robot close to him.
"GIR what's happening?" he asked, trying to conceal the sheer terror in his voice. GIR groaned. "I don't feel so good…something's…in me…it hurts…"
Zim pushed the sheets away from GIR and laid him on his back. "Alright GIR, I'm gonna turn you off for a minute, OK? It will only be for a second, I have to find out what's hurting you."
Gir nodded as Zim reached in back of the small robot's neck and carefully switched him off. GIR's usually bright eyes went dark, as Zim tenderly removed the top of his head, revealing the computer-like components inside. He shifted the wires around with his fingers, trying to see if anything was out of place and causing GIR pain. Everything seemed to be normal – until he came across a wire with something attached to it.
Zim recognized it as a universal transmitter component, and it was going off. The wire it was bound to was connected to GIR's central processing unit, which would explain why it was causing him pain. Zim knew that in order to stop the pain he had to find a replacement wire.
He grabbed a flashlight and screwdriver from a cabinet and went into the bathroom. Using the screwdriver, he managed to dismantle the panel behind the light on the wall. Holding the flashlight in his teeth, he pulled the wire works out from underneath the paneling. Then with one firm pull, he yanked several wires out of wall. Thankfully the light was turned off and he was not electrocuted.
He left the flashlight and screwdriver in the bathroom and rushed back to the bedroom. Gently, using nail clippers, he snipped the offensive wire out from GIR's head. GIR's body convulsed as the wire was removed, and it gave Zim chills.
Zim pulled the rubber covering back off the ends of both cut wires, and carefully twisted the wire parts together. When he was satisfied, he replaced GIR's crown and switched him back on. GIR awoke – groggy – but he woke up. He rubbed his eyes.
"GIR?" asked Zim gently. GIR looked at him.
"GIR? Are you OK?" Gir paused for a moment, then nodded his head.
"Does it hurt anymore?" He asked, concerned.
"No," said GIR, "But I'm sleepy." Zim smiled. "I'm not surprised. That replacement wire will need some finishing touches before you're be back to full capacity, but you'll make a full recovery." Zim stood. "Now sleep." GIR complied, and Zim covered him with the sheets.
Walking out into the living room, Zim began to examine the UTC more closely. This was this first time it had acted up. And there was a small flashed light on it, which gave the appearance of something waiting to be heard; like an answering machine. Zim did not have the equipment necessary to open the message, and he knew that no one on the planet did. It must be important; the universal transmitter component was only activated if there was an urgent message that needed to be heard by all Irkins' – at home and abroad.
He had no way to open it though – you plugged it into a special information processor that projected it on a monitor. Zim had nothing of the sort.
But he knew where to go to get it.
Zim stood, and grabbed his keys. He locked the front door as he left and climbed into his car.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
It had begun to rain. The windshield whippers moved lazily across the glass as Zim approached his destination. He parked the car, and pulled up his collar as he stepped out. It wasn't raining hard, but it was windy and cold. Zim's legs were going numb beneath his shorts.
He walked down a few houses, and then stopped. He stood on the sidewalk, on the edge of cement framework for a basement in the ground. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his school jacket and just stared at the ground in-lays.
They had begun to build a new house. The base was deep enough underground that the digging of a new foundation hadn't punctured the outer hull. It was strange, standing there. After seven years, at night, in the wind and rain, it felt alien to him somehow. There was no external sign of what lay beneath; no upper chambers, no yard and no gnomes. It was completely transformed from what it once was, and he guessed it was for the best.
But nonetheless, he had to get down there. There was one conceivable way in and it wasn't nice – there was an emergency, secret exit, just in case the humans found out about him and he needed to escape undetected. It went from the lowest chambers of the base, to a sewage runoff pipe some hundred feet down. He would have to go down into the sewer, find the entrance and force his way inside. The door was probably barricaded with debris from the blast, and maybe even welded together from the intense heat of the blast. Radiation wasn't a problem; immunity to it was an Irkin trait he hadn't lost.
Zim walked out into the middle of the caldasack and began the strenuous work of prying off the lid. He used the flashlight he had brought as a crowbar, and finally managed to remove the manhole cover.
The stench hit him like a punch in the face. He had to pause and cover his mouth so he wouldn't vomit. Finally, after weaning himself onto the smell, becoming somewhat used to it, he descended into the dark depths of the sewer.
He pulled his shirt collar over his face and shined the light down the gaping maw of the pipe. He could hear the sewage running past him and could see rats skidding across the small walkway. He carefully walked down, hearing sounds from beneath his feet but not looking in fear he might give up and return to the surface. He had left his coat up top – it was too bulky and he might not be able to fit through the opening that was ment for his smaller self if he wore it. And it wasn't cold; in fact it was sickeningly warm. He continued through the pipe praying the entrance was close.
He reached a stairway that went down a few steps, following a waterfall of sewage, and then turned to the left twenty feet up from where the sewage hit bottom. He walked along the edge; one wrong move and he would plummet twenty feet into human waste and rain runoff.
He walked on, and was at the point of turning back when his hand that had been scanning the wall came to an opening. He looked, and sure enough ten feet back was a small vault-like door. He had to crawl on his knees to get to it, and it wasn't pleasant, but he hadn't come all this way not to go a little further. He sucked it up and began to crawl down the small opening.
He finally reached it, and held the flashlight in his teeth as he tried to open the door. At first it wouldn't budge, and a terrible thought came to him: what if the computer had welded this door shut when it was commanded to seal all exits? It was entirely possible, but he prayed that it wasn't. He almost collapsed in relief when it began to turn.
Stepping into the first entrance chamber, Zim locked the door behind him. The door resembled that of a submarine in that it opened and locked with a wheel you twisted. He headed to the internal opening door and began twisting the wheel.
He heard the lock disengage, and slowly swung it open. He felt the radiation pass over him as he entered, and for a second felt nauseated, but it soon passed. He stepped in, stood up, and gazed at what had been.
The lab was completely ruined – like someone had smashed, and then taken a match to everything. Zim searched for the right monitor to plug the component into, and hoped that when he found it, it would work. First, however, he needed power.
He walked up to the main computer, but found it would be of no use since the control panel had been impaled by flying debris. He walked across the chamber, stepping over pieces of wrecked equipment, to the fuse box and opened it. He searched for the emergency power switch, found it, as pushed it up. Miraculously, lights began to flutter up and he could hear electricity running through the machines once again.
He finally came to it. There was a crack down the middle of the screen, and some of the controls had been melted off, but the port to plug in the UTC seemed to be OK. He brought the component out, inserted it into the port, and pressed all that was left of the 'On' button.
The screen flickered, then when white. The colors where warped around the crack, but Zim could still make out anything projected under it.
Suddenly the Irkin symbol appeared – red on black background. It then dissolved to reveal the two tallest, side-by-side at a desk, fingers interlaced in a gesture of superiority. How he loathed them. They had sent him hear to die. They had disposed of him and never thought twice. He wished they were here in person so he could strangle them.
"Hello, Irkin brethren," said Red with a rehearsed smile. "We have sent this message to announce the success of operation: 'Impending Doom II'. Just recently, the last battlefront surrendered, making the Irkin Empire the unopposed ruling entity of the universe."
"We," began Purple, "Will take full advantage of this, and continue to conquer planets at our current rate. We will clear suitable planets to house our own kind and build a stronger military. This effort will require the full force of the Irkin military." He said, using his hands for emphasis. "We will expect every Irkin abroad to report back to the home planet, in order to regroup for reassignment. A military occupation force will monitor the already conquered territories. As for our expansion, the following sectors will be assigned for domination." A list of serial numbers scrolled up the screen in a column. There were a lot, and they went by too fast for Zim to really read any. When they were done, Red spoke.
"As for the remaining sectors, they will be exploited of all natural resources because they bear no other purpose or value. The following sectors are to be immediately parched of needed materials." Another list went by – this one slower and shorter. There was a list of six, and on the fourth one Zim went pale.
Purple: "Any other information will be given at reassignment. For immediate info on when the occupation forces will be arriving, contact the central intelligence bureau on galactic extension 78693."
"Thank you," said Red, his face turning blue directly underneath the crack in the screen.
"And good night, my fellow Irkins." They both smiled stereotypically as the screen went black.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Zim's mind raced. After he had heard the message he had hauled ass back up to the surface and emerged into the whether. The mild rain had progressed into a full-blown storm. Rain hit the ground in buckets and wind ripped through the trees with tremendous force. He struggled to open the car door against the forceful wind.
Once in the car, he turned it on and floored the gas pedal.
They were coming. There was no stopping them. He had to make a choice, and he had to make it fast. Zim raced out of the caldasack and to an intersection.
Left or right – those were hit only choices. He rapped his fingers rapidly on the steering wheel as hit head wiped from one direction to the other. Rain slapped the windshield forcefully, like a firehouse was being sprayed at the glass. If Zim were not drenched from the downpour you would see that he was sweating.
He was faced with a decision of great importance. Go one way, and drop out of skool, pack up his things and wait for the armada to show up. They would be greatly disappointed when they found him alive. If they didn't kill him when he showed up they would surely send him on another no-name mission. But he had a chance, and he would be going home.
Go the other, and alert Earth authorities, do all he could to defend this world and fight in an almost pointless fight against the most powerful Empire in existence. He might not even be believed, and spend the rest of his days locked away or secluded in his house. But there was a chance – a small one – that he could prevent the Earth from total annihilation. Maybe strike a deal or something. But the chance was slim.
He had to decide. He had to make the biggest choice in the world – to help the Earth, or to go home. He knew that his decision would affect the lives of billions universally. That his choice would make or break the Irkin Empire. That his selection would be the definitive factor in the fate of the universe – and that it was his decision alone. He gripped the steering wheel and took a long, hard, mental look at his life. Then, with the last bit of doubt leaving him, he turned the wheel to the right.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Zim screeched into the driveway and slammed the car door as he got out. He walked up the walkway, and pounded on the door in front of him. The door swung open and Dib's head popped out. "What do you-"
He stopped. Zim stood in the rain; his blonde hair drooped over his head with moisture. Water fell from his face and off every corner. He was soaked, and he had a look on his face like he had aged twenty years.
"They're coming."
_________________________________
The car pulled up to the school and parked near the office. Zim and Gaz were escorted out of the squad car, uncuffed, and dragged to the Dean's office by their collars. A brawny policeman dragged them through the hall, their feet hardly touching the ground. He reached the office and threw them both in.
When they staggered to their feet, they were faced by the Dean of students, glaring at them with contempt. He commanded them both in his office and thanked the policeman for bringing them in.
"What the HELL do you think you're doing!" he screamed when Zim and Gaz were seated. They both crossed their arms and prepared for the lecture.
"You could have been killed, or worse, KILLED someone else! This kind of reckless behavior cannot be tolerated." He scanned them both with his eyes, stopping temporarily on the pentagram necklace around Gaz's neck. She cocked an eyebrow.
"No one is on the street this early – HELL, hardly anyone drives down that street to begin with. We weren't endangering anybody. And as for us-" see looked at Zim, then looked back at the dean. "If we want to take risks' that's our business." The dean became even more enraged.
"I'm calling your parents. You two are lucky you're minors, or else you would have been arrested long ago." He opened a file cabinet drawer forcefully, and yanked out their files.
He first opened the file from the 'X' drawer. Zim had used the pseudonym 'Xavier' as a last name. The dean yanked out the contact card and punched in the number with a stabbing motion.
He finished, and tapped the desk top with a fevered motion, trying to keep his rage under control. He cradled the phone under his ear and waited impatiently for a response.
Of course, Zim and Gaz both knew, that there never would be a response. And there wasn't one at the false number Zim gave him as his Dad's work either. The dean hung up with a growl and dialed Gaz's house.
"Hello?" asked Prof. Membrane when he answered the phone. The dean was almost startled that Gaz and Dib's rarely seen father was there.
"Um, yes, this is Mr. McCabe, the dean at Gaz's high skool."
"Well, hello. I'm sorry I must make this brief, I'm conducting a very delicate experi-"
There was a large boom heard from the other end of the line. The dean went pale.
"Cancel that, take all the time you need. What can I do for you?"
"Well, um…" Mr. McCabe was always a bit nervous when talking to the world- renowned Dr. Membrane, but it happened so infrequently that when he did communicate with him, the entire affair was magnified. He cleared his throat and finally spoke.
"Your daughter Gaz was just brought in for reckless driving by a squad car. I want you to know that this is the second time she has been brought in for this, and once more would call for her to be suspended."
Gaz made a fist and stabbed her elbow backward in a victorious motion. Zim hand to stifle a laugh with his hand.
At that point, Prof. Membrane began to yell.
"Yes but-" cried the Dean.
Prof. Membrane was talking about god-given rights, and something about suing the school if they busted her again. Prof. Membrane was a fan of racing himself.
Finally, the Dean gave up. He ripped two passes off a pad, scribbled wildly on them and thrust them to Gaz and Zim. He told them he would have their asses on a platter the next time they pulled a stunt like this. They both got up and left without a word.
Out in the hall, they released their laughter. The Dean had nothing and he knew it. Gaz put her hands on her hips and nodded triumphantly.
"I like how that went," she said. They grabbed their backpacks off the bench outside the office and walked down to their classes.
Zim was a bit more conservative. "Maybe we should lay low – just for a while. They could get suspicious and show up at my house."
Gaz looked at him. She knew he lived alone, but she didn't know why. She really didn't care.
"Yea maybe your right," she said, looking at the ground. "For whatever reasons you live without parents, it none of anyone's business. I don't care why, but social services would."
She glanced up at him. "But as soon as you turn eighteen you have no excuse."
Zim laughed. "Deal. I was gonna beat you anyway."
Gaz cocked an eyebrow. "Oh yea, sure. You say that now. But on the hill you were eating my dust," She stuck out her arms like they were turning a steering wheel. "Burning rubber – it's what I live for."
Zim smiled. "Yea, and take into account your insane – I have got quite a competitor on my hands."
Gaz slung an arm around Zim's neck and they continued to walk down the corridor.
"You're damn strait ya' do. And we're gonna settle this dispute tomorrow."
Zim groaned. "Oh, Gaz, no. I do not want to go out of my way just to prove I won. Besides – conference is tomorrow, so I have no time."
Gaz pushed him away playfully. "So now the jock doesn't have time to hang out with dorks' like me." She crossed her arms and pretended to weep.
"Sometimes I don't even know who you are anymore, Zim." She cried, stopped to peek through her fingers, and then cried again. Zim laughed.
"Hey, I didn't know I was gonna make the basketball team. My counselor said I had to have some extra curriculars' if I wanted to get into my top choice college. It was a fluke that I made all ten baskets is a row."
Gaz sighed. "Fine. But you forfeit."
"Fine. I wouldn't want to evoke your wrath or anything."
Gaz smiled wickedly. "No. We don't want that do we." She laughed evilly, then stopped abruptly and cleared her throat. Zim shook his head.
"You're nuts."
"Would you have it any other way?"
They arrived at her class and she walked in. He heard her just before the door closed.
"Gaz, you're late."
"Bit me."
Zim continued down the hall to his locker, where he dropped his backpack and brought out a concealed cellular phone he had snuck in. He called GIR.
"GIR? This is Zim," he said, talking over the machine. "Pickup."
A moment later the small robot answered. "Yeeeeeeeeesssssssss?"
"Nothing, just checking up. See you later." He hung up, turned the phone off and hid it in his locker.
Despite the fact Zim had been stranded on Earth for 7 years, there was still an element of paranoia when dealing wit his house. It had no security like his old one. The only protection was GIR, and Zim checked in periodically to sure everything was OK. He walked down the hall and into his class.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
At lunch, Zim sat with a select group of people who didn't completely despise his existence. He didn't talk, just ate what little of the cafeteria food he could digest and kept to himself. It was an improvement from elementary skool, because in high skool he was not ridiculed.
He took a sip of pop as he saw Gaz approaching. For a moment she seemed to be struggling with turning the corner, but he smiled when he realized she was dragging Dib by the ear over to him.
Dib hadn't changed much at all. He still wore glasses and a black trench coat. His hairstyle hadn't' changed, in fact the only thing that had changed was his height. Dib was a few inches shorter than Zim, and one or two shorter than Gaz. Gaz, dressed in a black tank top, baggy black jeans, black boots and various pieces of metallic jewelry looked considerably more intimidating than her brother. She commanded him to sit at the table and he obeyed.
"Well," she said, standing behind her brother, insuring his obedience, "Dib here is going to give us a ride to Monroe to pick up our cars." Dib snapped to attention and spun to meet Gaz.
"WHAO! You didn't say anything about him! I mean, you're bad enough, but him too!?"
Gaz squinted one eye and opened the other wide. "YES, Dib. All you have to do is drop us off at Monroe and Walsh. Quit whining or I'll gouge out your eyes."
She plopped down next to him and took a sip of Zim's pop without asking.
"But-but-but-" said Dib, or the brink of yelling from frustration.
"Yea," said Zim, "And be quick about it. I got a game today."
Dib stood and pointed an angered finger at Zim.
"Shut up alien! I know your plans and they won't work! I'll prove you're from another world if I have to kill to do it!" Zim slapped Dib's hand away with the back of his hand. He stood and leaned over the table at Dib.
"When will you quite, Dib? When will you stop lying to yourself and just accept the fact that you're delusional." Zim said, regaining a bit of an edge to his voice.
Dib opened his mouth in shock, then clenched his teeth in anger. "Delusional, yea right. I know what you are and you can't deny me! I-"
Gaz lifted Zim's try of uneaten food and slammed it into Dib's face. Dib just stood as the tray slowly slid off his face and chest. "You idiot," yelled Gaz. "If he was so set on conquering the Earth, then why hasn't he done it already!?" Zim had a feeling of being kicked in the gut as she said that, but the feeling was fleeting and passed through him momentarily.
Dib furiously tried to whip away crusty mashed potatoes and peas. "You'll admit it some day, ZIM! And when you do, I'll be there to laugh. Ah- HAHAHAHAHAHAHA…" With that he ran off to the bathroom.
"Dork." Said Gaz, and continued to sip pop.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
That night, after Dib had protestingly driven him to pick up his car, Zim had gone to the game. He was a starter, and a rather good player considering he had never played the game on Irk. He dribbled the ball through his legs and stared intently into the eyes of the defenseman in front of him. A smirk crossed his face and a bead of sweat fell down the side of his brow. When the defenseman's guard was down Zim spun against him and make a break for the basket. He made wide strides, and finally jumped for it, the ball rolling angelically off the tips of his fingers and falling into the basket as he hung from it.
He dropped from the rim and cheers echoed through the gym. He received high- fives from his teammates and applause from his coach. The other team greeted him with nasty looks. He just smiled at them.
They grabbed the ball and started towards Zim's team's basket. Zim ran up, and was on the guy holding the ball. It was easy; Zim towered over the guy, who couldn't have been more that five three. He tried to make a break for it, but Zim was on him. In a desperate and cheap move, the guy elbowed Zim in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. He fell to his knees and held his middle.
The referee blew his whistle and called the foul. Zim's coach ran up to him.
"You OK?" he said. "That was a cheap trick! Can you go on?"
Several of Zim's teammates were now surrounding him. "Does it hurt?" one of them asked.
Zim sneered. "No, it feels good. OF COURSE IT HURTS!"
"Son!" cried the coach, trying to recapture Zim's attention. "I said are you still able to play?" Zim, doubled over, glanced at the guy who had hit him. He was getting congratulations from his team and even his coach. Zim spit on the floor. "Yea, I can play."
"Alright then." The coach stood and replaced several of the starters. Zim stood, caught the ball from the ref and waited at the free throw line to take his shots.
They assembled around the edges of the free throw line and Zim dribbled several times before lazily shooting the ball. Swish, nothing but net. The crowd clapped and the opposing team sneered.
He dribbled, lined up his shot, but stopped for a moment. He made full eye contact with the guy who had hit him, his piercing stare making him think twice about hitting him. It was for only a second, but for the player who hit Zim it was an eternity.
Zim made the shot and it went in. The crowd cheered as the game proceeded. Zim jogged after the ball, at all times keeping an eye on the prick that had elbowed him.
The ball holder dribbled down the court, but in a brilliant come-from- behind move Zim stole it. Spinning on his heal, he passed the ball to his teammate Rob, who rushed down the court. Zim followed, directly behind the punk who hit him.
About ten feet from the basket where Rob was making his shot, Zim deliberately stepped on the back of the puck's shoe. The kid, not expecting this, tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground hard. Zim pretended not to notice and followed the ball to the basket, where he made a rebound and won the game.
The coach for the other team tried to call the foul, but the ref hadn't seen it and told him the point counted. Zim jogged back the bench and laughed mischievously. The player that had fallen was being helped up by several of his teammates. He had probably twisted his ankle. Zim glanced at him over his shoulder and winked. The player went pale, and limped back to his bench with the assistance of his teammates.
Zim hung a towel around his neck and walked into the locker room. He showered, changed, and was lacing up his shoes when the coach walked up to him.
"Zim! There's a phone call for ya'." Zim, a little bewildered, said OK and took the phone. Who would be calling him?
"Hello?" he said, cradling the phone between his shoulder and jaw as he laced up his Adidas. A groan came from the other end of the line.
Zim stopped tying his shoe and help the phone to his ear with both hands. "GIR?"
Another groan. "GIR is this you?"
"Yes master…" he groaned, louder this time. Zim began to worry. "GIR what's wrong?"
"I…I…don't…feel so good…" and with that the line disconnected. Zim shot up from where he was sitting and stared at the phone.
"Hey, you OK?" asked Matt. Matt's hair was spiked like Zim's but brown. "I said are you OK? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Zim shook his head and handed the phone to Matt. "Give this to coach Lawson. I've gotta go." He shrugged on his jacket and began pulling his backpack out of the locker.
"We're going for pizza right now. Aren't you coming?"
Zim tossed his keys in the air, caught them, and turned towards the door. "No, I can't. Something's come up."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Zim raced like a madman home. Not for fun, but out of fear. What had happened? Had someone broken in and hurt GIR? If Dib has hurt GIR so help me God…
Zim screeched to a halt in his driveway and ran to the front door. As he thumbed through his keys he observed that there were no signs of forced entry. Somehow that made him worry more.
He swung the door open and turned his head frantically in search of GIR. "GIR?" he yelled. A muffled groan came from somewhere in the house. "GIR!" he yelled louder. He dropped his backpack and ran to the back of the house. In his room, he found GIR curled up in the comforter, groaning. He rushed to the side of the bed, knelt, and pulled the little robot close to him.
"GIR what's happening?" he asked, trying to conceal the sheer terror in his voice. GIR groaned. "I don't feel so good…something's…in me…it hurts…"
Zim pushed the sheets away from GIR and laid him on his back. "Alright GIR, I'm gonna turn you off for a minute, OK? It will only be for a second, I have to find out what's hurting you."
Gir nodded as Zim reached in back of the small robot's neck and carefully switched him off. GIR's usually bright eyes went dark, as Zim tenderly removed the top of his head, revealing the computer-like components inside. He shifted the wires around with his fingers, trying to see if anything was out of place and causing GIR pain. Everything seemed to be normal – until he came across a wire with something attached to it.
Zim recognized it as a universal transmitter component, and it was going off. The wire it was bound to was connected to GIR's central processing unit, which would explain why it was causing him pain. Zim knew that in order to stop the pain he had to find a replacement wire.
He grabbed a flashlight and screwdriver from a cabinet and went into the bathroom. Using the screwdriver, he managed to dismantle the panel behind the light on the wall. Holding the flashlight in his teeth, he pulled the wire works out from underneath the paneling. Then with one firm pull, he yanked several wires out of wall. Thankfully the light was turned off and he was not electrocuted.
He left the flashlight and screwdriver in the bathroom and rushed back to the bedroom. Gently, using nail clippers, he snipped the offensive wire out from GIR's head. GIR's body convulsed as the wire was removed, and it gave Zim chills.
Zim pulled the rubber covering back off the ends of both cut wires, and carefully twisted the wire parts together. When he was satisfied, he replaced GIR's crown and switched him back on. GIR awoke – groggy – but he woke up. He rubbed his eyes.
"GIR?" asked Zim gently. GIR looked at him.
"GIR? Are you OK?" Gir paused for a moment, then nodded his head.
"Does it hurt anymore?" He asked, concerned.
"No," said GIR, "But I'm sleepy." Zim smiled. "I'm not surprised. That replacement wire will need some finishing touches before you're be back to full capacity, but you'll make a full recovery." Zim stood. "Now sleep." GIR complied, and Zim covered him with the sheets.
Walking out into the living room, Zim began to examine the UTC more closely. This was this first time it had acted up. And there was a small flashed light on it, which gave the appearance of something waiting to be heard; like an answering machine. Zim did not have the equipment necessary to open the message, and he knew that no one on the planet did. It must be important; the universal transmitter component was only activated if there was an urgent message that needed to be heard by all Irkins' – at home and abroad.
He had no way to open it though – you plugged it into a special information processor that projected it on a monitor. Zim had nothing of the sort.
But he knew where to go to get it.
Zim stood, and grabbed his keys. He locked the front door as he left and climbed into his car.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
It had begun to rain. The windshield whippers moved lazily across the glass as Zim approached his destination. He parked the car, and pulled up his collar as he stepped out. It wasn't raining hard, but it was windy and cold. Zim's legs were going numb beneath his shorts.
He walked down a few houses, and then stopped. He stood on the sidewalk, on the edge of cement framework for a basement in the ground. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his school jacket and just stared at the ground in-lays.
They had begun to build a new house. The base was deep enough underground that the digging of a new foundation hadn't punctured the outer hull. It was strange, standing there. After seven years, at night, in the wind and rain, it felt alien to him somehow. There was no external sign of what lay beneath; no upper chambers, no yard and no gnomes. It was completely transformed from what it once was, and he guessed it was for the best.
But nonetheless, he had to get down there. There was one conceivable way in and it wasn't nice – there was an emergency, secret exit, just in case the humans found out about him and he needed to escape undetected. It went from the lowest chambers of the base, to a sewage runoff pipe some hundred feet down. He would have to go down into the sewer, find the entrance and force his way inside. The door was probably barricaded with debris from the blast, and maybe even welded together from the intense heat of the blast. Radiation wasn't a problem; immunity to it was an Irkin trait he hadn't lost.
Zim walked out into the middle of the caldasack and began the strenuous work of prying off the lid. He used the flashlight he had brought as a crowbar, and finally managed to remove the manhole cover.
The stench hit him like a punch in the face. He had to pause and cover his mouth so he wouldn't vomit. Finally, after weaning himself onto the smell, becoming somewhat used to it, he descended into the dark depths of the sewer.
He pulled his shirt collar over his face and shined the light down the gaping maw of the pipe. He could hear the sewage running past him and could see rats skidding across the small walkway. He carefully walked down, hearing sounds from beneath his feet but not looking in fear he might give up and return to the surface. He had left his coat up top – it was too bulky and he might not be able to fit through the opening that was ment for his smaller self if he wore it. And it wasn't cold; in fact it was sickeningly warm. He continued through the pipe praying the entrance was close.
He reached a stairway that went down a few steps, following a waterfall of sewage, and then turned to the left twenty feet up from where the sewage hit bottom. He walked along the edge; one wrong move and he would plummet twenty feet into human waste and rain runoff.
He walked on, and was at the point of turning back when his hand that had been scanning the wall came to an opening. He looked, and sure enough ten feet back was a small vault-like door. He had to crawl on his knees to get to it, and it wasn't pleasant, but he hadn't come all this way not to go a little further. He sucked it up and began to crawl down the small opening.
He finally reached it, and held the flashlight in his teeth as he tried to open the door. At first it wouldn't budge, and a terrible thought came to him: what if the computer had welded this door shut when it was commanded to seal all exits? It was entirely possible, but he prayed that it wasn't. He almost collapsed in relief when it began to turn.
Stepping into the first entrance chamber, Zim locked the door behind him. The door resembled that of a submarine in that it opened and locked with a wheel you twisted. He headed to the internal opening door and began twisting the wheel.
He heard the lock disengage, and slowly swung it open. He felt the radiation pass over him as he entered, and for a second felt nauseated, but it soon passed. He stepped in, stood up, and gazed at what had been.
The lab was completely ruined – like someone had smashed, and then taken a match to everything. Zim searched for the right monitor to plug the component into, and hoped that when he found it, it would work. First, however, he needed power.
He walked up to the main computer, but found it would be of no use since the control panel had been impaled by flying debris. He walked across the chamber, stepping over pieces of wrecked equipment, to the fuse box and opened it. He searched for the emergency power switch, found it, as pushed it up. Miraculously, lights began to flutter up and he could hear electricity running through the machines once again.
He finally came to it. There was a crack down the middle of the screen, and some of the controls had been melted off, but the port to plug in the UTC seemed to be OK. He brought the component out, inserted it into the port, and pressed all that was left of the 'On' button.
The screen flickered, then when white. The colors where warped around the crack, but Zim could still make out anything projected under it.
Suddenly the Irkin symbol appeared – red on black background. It then dissolved to reveal the two tallest, side-by-side at a desk, fingers interlaced in a gesture of superiority. How he loathed them. They had sent him hear to die. They had disposed of him and never thought twice. He wished they were here in person so he could strangle them.
"Hello, Irkin brethren," said Red with a rehearsed smile. "We have sent this message to announce the success of operation: 'Impending Doom II'. Just recently, the last battlefront surrendered, making the Irkin Empire the unopposed ruling entity of the universe."
"We," began Purple, "Will take full advantage of this, and continue to conquer planets at our current rate. We will clear suitable planets to house our own kind and build a stronger military. This effort will require the full force of the Irkin military." He said, using his hands for emphasis. "We will expect every Irkin abroad to report back to the home planet, in order to regroup for reassignment. A military occupation force will monitor the already conquered territories. As for our expansion, the following sectors will be assigned for domination." A list of serial numbers scrolled up the screen in a column. There were a lot, and they went by too fast for Zim to really read any. When they were done, Red spoke.
"As for the remaining sectors, they will be exploited of all natural resources because they bear no other purpose or value. The following sectors are to be immediately parched of needed materials." Another list went by – this one slower and shorter. There was a list of six, and on the fourth one Zim went pale.
Purple: "Any other information will be given at reassignment. For immediate info on when the occupation forces will be arriving, contact the central intelligence bureau on galactic extension 78693."
"Thank you," said Red, his face turning blue directly underneath the crack in the screen.
"And good night, my fellow Irkins." They both smiled stereotypically as the screen went black.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Zim's mind raced. After he had heard the message he had hauled ass back up to the surface and emerged into the whether. The mild rain had progressed into a full-blown storm. Rain hit the ground in buckets and wind ripped through the trees with tremendous force. He struggled to open the car door against the forceful wind.
Once in the car, he turned it on and floored the gas pedal.
They were coming. There was no stopping them. He had to make a choice, and he had to make it fast. Zim raced out of the caldasack and to an intersection.
Left or right – those were hit only choices. He rapped his fingers rapidly on the steering wheel as hit head wiped from one direction to the other. Rain slapped the windshield forcefully, like a firehouse was being sprayed at the glass. If Zim were not drenched from the downpour you would see that he was sweating.
He was faced with a decision of great importance. Go one way, and drop out of skool, pack up his things and wait for the armada to show up. They would be greatly disappointed when they found him alive. If they didn't kill him when he showed up they would surely send him on another no-name mission. But he had a chance, and he would be going home.
Go the other, and alert Earth authorities, do all he could to defend this world and fight in an almost pointless fight against the most powerful Empire in existence. He might not even be believed, and spend the rest of his days locked away or secluded in his house. But there was a chance – a small one – that he could prevent the Earth from total annihilation. Maybe strike a deal or something. But the chance was slim.
He had to decide. He had to make the biggest choice in the world – to help the Earth, or to go home. He knew that his decision would affect the lives of billions universally. That his choice would make or break the Irkin Empire. That his selection would be the definitive factor in the fate of the universe – and that it was his decision alone. He gripped the steering wheel and took a long, hard, mental look at his life. Then, with the last bit of doubt leaving him, he turned the wheel to the right.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Zim screeched into the driveway and slammed the car door as he got out. He walked up the walkway, and pounded on the door in front of him. The door swung open and Dib's head popped out. "What do you-"
He stopped. Zim stood in the rain; his blonde hair drooped over his head with moisture. Water fell from his face and off every corner. He was soaked, and he had a look on his face like he had aged twenty years.
"They're coming."