I'm sorry about the delay in updates, but I have been so busy you wouldn't
believe. I'm in the play at school and I'm NEVER home. Well, play is over
and I've completed the 7th edition of the IZ saga. Updates will be (or
should be) much more frequent from now on.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Gaz lay in her bunk; reading and listening to Shirley Manson sing 'I'm Only Happy When it Rains' on her headphones. She put down her book and stared at the ceiling. They had been away from Earth for a week. Gaz had told herself that she would not get homesick; that at all costs SHE would keep her cool and remain levelheaded. But it was getting to her. Little by little she felt her control slip away. If they did not touch down somewhere soon she was libel to go stir-crazy.
She swung her feet of her bunk and jumped down to the floor. She had chosen the upper one because it was the biggest, due to closet ending at the same height. The one below her was about a foot short, because there was a closet Dib kept all his clothes in. But her bunk went over it. Dib hadn't really minded, she was taller anyway.
She landed silently on her socked feet and walked over to the small porthole of a window. She pulled the headphones down around her neck and stared out into the blackness of space.
Earth was by now far out of sight. The sun, too, was not visible save the small speck of light over in the Eastern Sky.
How Zim differentiated the compass puzzled her. She guessed it had to do with the galaxy, but she could only do that – guess. Zim was really the only one who knew what he was doing, she knew that. And no matter how hard Dib tried he could not keep up.
Dib had struggled to comprehend what Zim told him about Irkin life and technology. But what little Dib could grasp was dwarfed by what flew over his head. Some of the concepts seem to contradict themselves, said Zim, and it takes a keen mind to know the difference.
Gaz touched the bottom of the window, as if yearning for something. She wanted to go home. As corny as that sounded it was true. Tough old Gaz was getting homesick.
She looked at the stars – so many of them. She could still hear the music emitting from around her neck:
You know I love it when the music's black
Why it feels so good to feel so sad…
I'm only happy when it rains…
That used to be her. The hard-ass beat-all take-no-crap survivor of urban living. Armed with her purple hair, badass car and heavy metal music she was a force to be reckoned with. But now…
Now all that didn't seem to matter. This would truly be a survival of the fittest, separating the men from the boys; or in this case – the women from the girls. She would have to look deep inside herself and find if she had what it takes.
Yes, she thought, I DO have it. I have to have it or else there are going to be about six billion disappointed people when I get home. I have to be strong… because no ones going to be strong for me.
Pour your misery down…
Pour your misery down on me…
Pour your misery down…
Pour your misery down on me…
It's all about Gaz, she thought with a smile. It's ALL about this. It's all about proving you're more than a rocker stereotype and that you can be something else. That you can be something GREAT.
She suddenly didn't feel so alone. She suddenly felt inspired, as if she had had an epiphany. And everything seemed right… everything seemed… grand. Her destiny was before her and she had this one chance grasp it, take it full on. A wise man once said: 'Some see it, some don't, and some… don't even want to…'
Well she wanted to, baby. And Hell, she was going to get it. Nothing was going to keep her from her destiny. NOTHING.
I'm only happy when it rains…
Damn strait. And when it rains – it pours.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Zim, however, was not currently feeling the same sense of enlightenment Gaz was. He was instead, feeling frustrated. Nothing seemed to be right. The cosmological landscape had changed so much since he had last been out here. Some telltale signs he had used to navigate were by now gone, and he had to guess the right way to go.
None other than the Irkin Empire now dominated planets that had been neutral territory before. It seemed as if the Tallest had turned on their old allies while their backs were turned. A Brutus for the modern ages, thought Zim bitterly, Cesar has surely fallen.
He spread a star map over the consol and studied it. A bead of sweat fell from his forehead and splattered near the key, distorting the scale. He whipped it away with the side of his hand and sighed.
Suddenly, the computer spoke. "Incoming structure. Is a visual requested?"
Zim straitened and looked at the screen. "Yes."
The screen flickered, and in a moment something that looked like a spaceport appeared. Zim immediately recognized it, and his eyes went wide with joy.
"IT'S SPULGE'S DINER!!!!!! IT'S STILL HERE!! AFTER ALL THESE YEARS!!!!!!"
Zim ran to the back of the ship, where he found Gaz and Dib in their bunks. Gaz was reading and Dib was asleep. Gaz saw him rush in and gave him a puzzled look. "Whoa, Zim, what's up?"
He balled his hands into fists and began to jump up and down. "Its – its – its – its-"
He couldn't even get it out. Finally Gaz slapped him, and he went still. He didn't talk for a while, and she pulled her hand back again, but he grabbed her wrist mid-swoop. "It's Spluge's Diner!! It's still here!" He began to bounce with happiness. "Gods, I can't even remember that last time I was here! It was so long ago!"
He put his hands on his chest and bit his lip. "It's still here! Will wonders never cease!"
During Zim's outburst Dib had awaken. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Wha? Zim, what is it?"
Zim Smiled insanely, and for a moment, Gaz could see the old Zim shine through. "It's this 'diner' we've arrived at. Zim's all worked up about it. What's the big deal, eh Zim?"
Zim took a deep breath in an attempt to regain control of himself. "We've arrived at Spluge's Diner. This used to be an old hang out of mine. Oh, I remember coming here after a successful invasion-" Dib cringed as Zim said that. "-and sitting down to a nice bowl of Spluge's Surprise Stew. Oh, it was SOO good. Spluge would come out and ask me how it went. I would share my story, about the invasion, and about the innumerable times I escaped certain death-" Zim smiled his egotistical smile and Gaz smiled to. "-and he would always tell me: 'That's great Zim, you deserve another helping' and serve up another bowl. Oh, those were the days…"
Zim sighed. "Wow. I can't believe its still here. I sure would like to get some of that stew right now."
Gaz stood. "Well why not? I mean, what's stopping you?"
Zim stuttered. "Well, I mean, you guy's are here, and if anyone were to see me-"
"But LOOK at you Zim! You've changed since you were here last. And what about us? We'll come with you."
Dib ran to her side. "Gaz, I don't think that's such a-"
"Quiet Dib! Sure, We'll go with you Zim. I mean, how bad can alien food be?"
Zim sighed. "You have no idea." Dib tried to say something, but never got it out. He just shrugged and Gaz nodded enthusiastically. "Please!?!?!"
Zim crossed his arms and thought for a moment. "Fine," he said finally, throwing his arms up in mock surrender. "You can come. Hell, it will be good to see Spluge again."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
After the Food Courtia battle was over, the Tallest were returned to their quarters. Neither was in a good mood, and neither felt like talking. Both of them just sat next to each other silently as their chauffeured car brought them home.
The door slid open, and Purple switched on the light. They walked in without so much as a word.
Purple walked over to the bar, and poured himself a stiff drink. Red leaned against, then slide down the wall next to the door. He sat there, crouched, and stared at his hands in his lap.
"You were right," he stated simply. Purple put down a large bottle of Irkin liquor and reached for another.
"How could I have been so blind…" he went on. Purple swirled his drink.
"It was bound to happen, but I just couldn't fathom it. It was…well…unthinkable to me…" He watched his hands as he wrung them. Despite the fact that they had won the battle, the mere occurrence of it had reminded them all of just how vulnerable they were to attack. The incident seemed to have a greater effect or Red, who blamed himself.
Purple lifted his drink, which was just slightly under the size of a pint, over his head and emptied it. He slammed it back down so hard Red flinched. Calmer now, Purple began to stir two more drinks.
"And you handled it like a pro. I mean, threatening the entire Reaptarian fleet? My god who would have made a move like that!" Red shook his head slightly in admiration. "Those were some expert battle tactics."
Purple finished the drinks, and began to sip slowly on one. He put it down and leaned forward on the bar. He already had a slight buzz going, and he was a bit dizzy. He stared at the bar counter top as he spoke.
"It was a bluff."
Red looked up from his hands and inquisitively at his partner. "What?"
"I said it was a bluff," he dropped one hand off the bar and glanced at Red over his shoulder. Red's jaw lowered slightly in astonishment. "You serious?"
Purple turned back to the bar.
"What would've happened if they didn't retreat?" asked Red. Purple shrugged and brought the glass to his lips. Red shook his head again. "Man, you're something else. You didn't sound like you were bluffing. Hell, I believed you completely, and I'm supposed to know you better than anyone else." He looked back at his hands.
"I never could have done that."
Purple finished off his second drink and put the back of his hand to his mouth. He had already consumed a large amount Irkin alcohol, and was struggling to keep it down. After a moment the fit of nausea passed, and he poured half of the remaining drink into his recently empty glass.
"I'm beginning to think…" started Red once more, "That I'm not worthy to be a Tallest."
"Don't say that," said Purple, more annoyed at the comment than worried. Red persisted.
"No I'm not…"
"Yes you are, don't be stupid."
"But I was so-"
"C'mon, you are so worthy." He picked up the two drinks and turned towards Red. He struggled to keep from wobbling as he walked towards his co-ruler, but he managed not to waver. He crouched down next to Red and extended a drink in a sort of peace offering.
"Here."
Red looked at the drink, then at Purple, and then finally took it. He took a sip as Purple sat next to him, and almost spat it out. It was inconceivably strong, and he guessed it was mostly strait liquor. He could detect no flavoring.
Purple, however, was almost done with what would be his third. If one thing could be said about Purple, it was that he could hold his liquor. He could remain coherent while most would be vomiting their guts out. Red, despite the horrid taste, continued to drink.
Red traced his thumb around the rim of the glass. It was of fine quality, custom made for him and Purple. The light reflected brilliantly off its neck and base, illuminating his palm. He sighed as he watched Purple drain his of all contents.
"That can't be good for you." He said without looking at him. Purple smiled, his mouth still full of liquid, and then swallowed. He stood, shakily at first, but then stabilized. He looked down as Red with drunken affection.
"Have a bit more confidence will ya? You're depressing me."
"You sure that isn't the drinks?"
Purple let out a single "Hah!" as he flung his head back. He looked back at Red and whipped his mouth with the back of his hand. "No, it's definitely you."
Red smiled sadly and sighed deeply. Purple growled.
"Snap out of it."
"I don't think I can."
Without warning, Purple threw his glass across the room. It hit the wall just next to the bar, and the tiny bit of remaining alcohol stained the paint as the glass shattered. The broken shards hit the carpeting and several bounced a few feet away from the wall. They both just stared at the spot where it had hit for a few moments, and sound of its impact still fresh in their ears.
Red turned to look at Purple. "That glass was two hundred credits."
"I'll buy you another one."
Purple faced his partner, hesitated, then extended his hand towards him. Red just sat motionless.
"C'mon."
"What?"
"Just take it, OK?"
Red hesitated, then put down his drink and took Purple's outstretched hand. Purple pulled him up, and immediately they embraced. Purple put an arm around Red's neck, and kissed him on the lips. At first Red didn't respond, but after a few second he began to. As they progressed, Red found himself becoming hot. He wanted Purple more then he had ever wanted him. This was more then just lust this was NEED. He felt as if he NEEDED Purple at that moment. To forget his insecurities and simply give in. He gripped his shoulders and kissed him deeply.
Eventually, they found their way to his bed, and crashed there. Red put Purple's legs around his waist and looked down at his lover.
"You know, you're surprisingly sexy for a drunk."
Purple grabbed the back of Red's neck, pulling their faces a few inches closer. "Shut up, Red." He commanded simply, and brought their mouths together.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
After landing, they opened the doors of the ship. At first Dib was worried about them all being sucked into the vacuum of space, but Zim explained that the diner was surrounded by an air force field, so that they would be able to breath. Dib hesitantly complied.
They stepped out, and the first thing they noticed was the sky. There were stars as far as the eye could see. Zim said that the lack of an atmosphere made almost everything visible. Dib was really nervous and wouldn't step off the ramp of the ship.
"It's OK Dib," said Zim. "Just imagine we're on Earth, and its night."
Dib did, and after a while it didn't seem so bad. The hoax that it was Earth worked – that is, if you ignored the fact that the ground ended about 300 yards away.
They walked towards a building, that was surprisingly diner looking. It was one story, with window in the front so you could see the diners eating. None of the aliens in the window resembled Zim, and this worried Dib.
"Zim, none of these…things… look like you. Why?"
"These are aliens of the worlds the Empire have conquered. From the looks of it, Spluge's Diner has changed a lot since I've been here. Watch your back when we walk in – and stay close to me."
As the neared, Gaz noticed a neon-looking sign above the double doors. It was at an angle, and Red symbols were illuminated. The writing was foreign, but she guessed it was the diner's name. She followed the other two inside.
Zim opened the door and they all stepped inside. Neither one of the aliens inside looked at all friendly. Most had weapons slung about them, keeping them close as they ate. Slowly, as the three took their seats at the counter, all heads – or the equivalent – turned towards them.
Zim began to order, but stopped when he heard the shuffling around him. He looked over his shoulder, to see that every creature in the place had surrounded the three. Gaz had turned her stool to face them, but her expression didn't fill him with confidence. She inched her hand towards the switchblade at the small of her back.
Zim turned his head over his shoulder, just long enough to see the mob of space scum that had assembled around them. In the middle, looking directly at him was a Reaptarian with one, jagged scar on his face stretching from his brow, across his eye and over the corner of his mouth. Zim saw no other part of the Reaptarian fleet, which ment that this one was rogue – a traitor to his people. He brandished several weapons in his many hands. He pointed one of them at Zim as he spoke.
"You've got a lot of nerve, Irkin," said the Reaptarian in a language neither Gaz nor Dib could understand. Zim turned back towards the counter and swirled his complementary drink, which like water on Earth, was always there.
"Coming around here with your slaves, right after the battle at Food Courtia," he sneered visibly. "You must have a death wish, because that's all that's here for you." He snapped one of his wrists, which brought out a long blade. It made Gaz's switchblade look like a butter knife.
Of course, Zim had no idea what battle he was talking about, so he bluffed. "It's a free empire," said Zim in the same language, "I can move about however I choose. And these aren't my slaves, for your information. Now are you going to leave us alone or do I have to MAKE you leave us alone?"
An angered murmur swept through the room. The Reaptarian growled loudly and another blade emerged. Zim didn't move.
"Tough words for An Irkin scum like you."
That did it. They both charged at the same instance. Zim spun off the stool and brought a blaster out from under his shirt, which had assumably been there the entire time. The Scared alien maneuvered with his blade as Zim quickly approached, but they ended in a stalemate.
They both stood, the blade at Zim's neck and his blaster under the Reaptarian's chin. They snarled at each other, faces inches apart. The Reaptarian began to apply pressure and Zim brought back the blaster's hammer.
Just then, there was a loud slamming sound. A chubby, aging Irkin with faint red eyes busted through the kitchen doors, aiming what looked to be a very large, very advanced riffle at the two battle-locked aliens. He held it against his shoulder, head down and one eye closed for a good shot. All motion stopped in the diner.
"Now you boys got two choices," said the Irkin in a husky voice. "You could put down your weapons and leave this place, or-" he chambered a round into the gun. "I could blast your scummy hides up to your maker. Which is it gonna be?"
Zim and the alien, whose eyes had never left each other, remained locked as they lowered their weapons.
"There we go, all friendly like. Now all of you – get the hell out. This diner is temporarily closed."
The mob angrily dispersed. They filed out and headed towards their ships. The Reaptarian turned towards Zim before he left. "Tu paka` mi siyo porl`chinta," he snarled. "Fol kalon."
"Tu pa` sakomi," Growled Zim. He slid his hand out from under his chin and spit towards the alien. The alien began to charge, but the riffle cocked once more. He growled threateningly as he reluctantly left.
Zim sighed, and turned back to Dib and Gaz – but was met with the barrel of a long gun first. The Irkin behind the trigger seemed no less on edge despite the fact that the mob was gone. Zim gulped and tried to keep his composure.
"Why aren't you leaving, boy? What part of 'get the hell out' don't you understand?"
Zim looked at the old Irkin. He wore simple black slacks, a white shirt and an apron over that. The apron was stained with various food elements, most of which Zim couldn't' identify. He looked aged and stressed, but it was still him. It was Spluge himself.
"Spluge…" said Zim softly. "Don't you remember? The invasions? The stories? How you would serve up the stew after each one? Don't you remember?"
Spluge's eyes fell to the ground for a moment, but soon looked back up at Zim.
"My hearing must not be what it used to, because for a second there you sounded mighty familiar."
Zim smiled cautiously. "It's…it's me Spluge… It's Zim."
Spluge shook his head firmly, and for a second Zim thought he saw a tear well at the bottom of the old Irkin's eye. "Zim's dead."
"No he's NOT," Said Zim, taking a step closer. The gun leveled higher as he approached. "It's really me, I'M Zim. I can't really explain it… it would take a lifetime to… but it's me."
Spluge's lip seemed to tremble for a moment, and he bit it to make it stop. He stared at Zim, wanting to believe. "Prove it."
"Oh what an invasion!" said Zim in a loud, triumphant voice. "They were everywhere – but I, ZIM, triumphed. Oh it was grand, Spluge, you should have been there when they awarded ME the medal for outstanding performance on the battlefield! Oh, the Tallest themselves were there!" He shook his fists for emphasis, and cackled evilly after he was done. He ended with his fists on his hips and the same old egotistical grin of his face. Dib was actually a little taken aback as he watched Zim resurrect his old self.
Spluge dropped the gun on the counter. "Zim?"
"Spluge!"
They both embraced, laughing hysterically. After a moment, Spluge gripped Zim by the shoulders and looked him over. "Well I'll be a slaughtering-rat- person's dinner! Look at you! I almost SHOT you, you've gotten so tall!"
For the first time ever, Gaz and Dib saw Zim visibly blush. "Well, I kinda had to, under the circumstances."
"What? OH! You've got to tell me what has happened to you. Where have you been?"
Zim smiled sadly. "It's a long story, old friend, but I'll be glad to share it with you."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Gaz lay in her bunk; reading and listening to Shirley Manson sing 'I'm Only Happy When it Rains' on her headphones. She put down her book and stared at the ceiling. They had been away from Earth for a week. Gaz had told herself that she would not get homesick; that at all costs SHE would keep her cool and remain levelheaded. But it was getting to her. Little by little she felt her control slip away. If they did not touch down somewhere soon she was libel to go stir-crazy.
She swung her feet of her bunk and jumped down to the floor. She had chosen the upper one because it was the biggest, due to closet ending at the same height. The one below her was about a foot short, because there was a closet Dib kept all his clothes in. But her bunk went over it. Dib hadn't really minded, she was taller anyway.
She landed silently on her socked feet and walked over to the small porthole of a window. She pulled the headphones down around her neck and stared out into the blackness of space.
Earth was by now far out of sight. The sun, too, was not visible save the small speck of light over in the Eastern Sky.
How Zim differentiated the compass puzzled her. She guessed it had to do with the galaxy, but she could only do that – guess. Zim was really the only one who knew what he was doing, she knew that. And no matter how hard Dib tried he could not keep up.
Dib had struggled to comprehend what Zim told him about Irkin life and technology. But what little Dib could grasp was dwarfed by what flew over his head. Some of the concepts seem to contradict themselves, said Zim, and it takes a keen mind to know the difference.
Gaz touched the bottom of the window, as if yearning for something. She wanted to go home. As corny as that sounded it was true. Tough old Gaz was getting homesick.
She looked at the stars – so many of them. She could still hear the music emitting from around her neck:
You know I love it when the music's black
Why it feels so good to feel so sad…
I'm only happy when it rains…
That used to be her. The hard-ass beat-all take-no-crap survivor of urban living. Armed with her purple hair, badass car and heavy metal music she was a force to be reckoned with. But now…
Now all that didn't seem to matter. This would truly be a survival of the fittest, separating the men from the boys; or in this case – the women from the girls. She would have to look deep inside herself and find if she had what it takes.
Yes, she thought, I DO have it. I have to have it or else there are going to be about six billion disappointed people when I get home. I have to be strong… because no ones going to be strong for me.
Pour your misery down…
Pour your misery down on me…
Pour your misery down…
Pour your misery down on me…
It's all about Gaz, she thought with a smile. It's ALL about this. It's all about proving you're more than a rocker stereotype and that you can be something else. That you can be something GREAT.
She suddenly didn't feel so alone. She suddenly felt inspired, as if she had had an epiphany. And everything seemed right… everything seemed… grand. Her destiny was before her and she had this one chance grasp it, take it full on. A wise man once said: 'Some see it, some don't, and some… don't even want to…'
Well she wanted to, baby. And Hell, she was going to get it. Nothing was going to keep her from her destiny. NOTHING.
I'm only happy when it rains…
Damn strait. And when it rains – it pours.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Zim, however, was not currently feeling the same sense of enlightenment Gaz was. He was instead, feeling frustrated. Nothing seemed to be right. The cosmological landscape had changed so much since he had last been out here. Some telltale signs he had used to navigate were by now gone, and he had to guess the right way to go.
None other than the Irkin Empire now dominated planets that had been neutral territory before. It seemed as if the Tallest had turned on their old allies while their backs were turned. A Brutus for the modern ages, thought Zim bitterly, Cesar has surely fallen.
He spread a star map over the consol and studied it. A bead of sweat fell from his forehead and splattered near the key, distorting the scale. He whipped it away with the side of his hand and sighed.
Suddenly, the computer spoke. "Incoming structure. Is a visual requested?"
Zim straitened and looked at the screen. "Yes."
The screen flickered, and in a moment something that looked like a spaceport appeared. Zim immediately recognized it, and his eyes went wide with joy.
"IT'S SPULGE'S DINER!!!!!! IT'S STILL HERE!! AFTER ALL THESE YEARS!!!!!!"
Zim ran to the back of the ship, where he found Gaz and Dib in their bunks. Gaz was reading and Dib was asleep. Gaz saw him rush in and gave him a puzzled look. "Whoa, Zim, what's up?"
He balled his hands into fists and began to jump up and down. "Its – its – its – its-"
He couldn't even get it out. Finally Gaz slapped him, and he went still. He didn't talk for a while, and she pulled her hand back again, but he grabbed her wrist mid-swoop. "It's Spluge's Diner!! It's still here!" He began to bounce with happiness. "Gods, I can't even remember that last time I was here! It was so long ago!"
He put his hands on his chest and bit his lip. "It's still here! Will wonders never cease!"
During Zim's outburst Dib had awaken. He rubbed his eyes and sat up. "Wha? Zim, what is it?"
Zim Smiled insanely, and for a moment, Gaz could see the old Zim shine through. "It's this 'diner' we've arrived at. Zim's all worked up about it. What's the big deal, eh Zim?"
Zim took a deep breath in an attempt to regain control of himself. "We've arrived at Spluge's Diner. This used to be an old hang out of mine. Oh, I remember coming here after a successful invasion-" Dib cringed as Zim said that. "-and sitting down to a nice bowl of Spluge's Surprise Stew. Oh, it was SOO good. Spluge would come out and ask me how it went. I would share my story, about the invasion, and about the innumerable times I escaped certain death-" Zim smiled his egotistical smile and Gaz smiled to. "-and he would always tell me: 'That's great Zim, you deserve another helping' and serve up another bowl. Oh, those were the days…"
Zim sighed. "Wow. I can't believe its still here. I sure would like to get some of that stew right now."
Gaz stood. "Well why not? I mean, what's stopping you?"
Zim stuttered. "Well, I mean, you guy's are here, and if anyone were to see me-"
"But LOOK at you Zim! You've changed since you were here last. And what about us? We'll come with you."
Dib ran to her side. "Gaz, I don't think that's such a-"
"Quiet Dib! Sure, We'll go with you Zim. I mean, how bad can alien food be?"
Zim sighed. "You have no idea." Dib tried to say something, but never got it out. He just shrugged and Gaz nodded enthusiastically. "Please!?!?!"
Zim crossed his arms and thought for a moment. "Fine," he said finally, throwing his arms up in mock surrender. "You can come. Hell, it will be good to see Spluge again."
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
After the Food Courtia battle was over, the Tallest were returned to their quarters. Neither was in a good mood, and neither felt like talking. Both of them just sat next to each other silently as their chauffeured car brought them home.
The door slid open, and Purple switched on the light. They walked in without so much as a word.
Purple walked over to the bar, and poured himself a stiff drink. Red leaned against, then slide down the wall next to the door. He sat there, crouched, and stared at his hands in his lap.
"You were right," he stated simply. Purple put down a large bottle of Irkin liquor and reached for another.
"How could I have been so blind…" he went on. Purple swirled his drink.
"It was bound to happen, but I just couldn't fathom it. It was…well…unthinkable to me…" He watched his hands as he wrung them. Despite the fact that they had won the battle, the mere occurrence of it had reminded them all of just how vulnerable they were to attack. The incident seemed to have a greater effect or Red, who blamed himself.
Purple lifted his drink, which was just slightly under the size of a pint, over his head and emptied it. He slammed it back down so hard Red flinched. Calmer now, Purple began to stir two more drinks.
"And you handled it like a pro. I mean, threatening the entire Reaptarian fleet? My god who would have made a move like that!" Red shook his head slightly in admiration. "Those were some expert battle tactics."
Purple finished the drinks, and began to sip slowly on one. He put it down and leaned forward on the bar. He already had a slight buzz going, and he was a bit dizzy. He stared at the bar counter top as he spoke.
"It was a bluff."
Red looked up from his hands and inquisitively at his partner. "What?"
"I said it was a bluff," he dropped one hand off the bar and glanced at Red over his shoulder. Red's jaw lowered slightly in astonishment. "You serious?"
Purple turned back to the bar.
"What would've happened if they didn't retreat?" asked Red. Purple shrugged and brought the glass to his lips. Red shook his head again. "Man, you're something else. You didn't sound like you were bluffing. Hell, I believed you completely, and I'm supposed to know you better than anyone else." He looked back at his hands.
"I never could have done that."
Purple finished off his second drink and put the back of his hand to his mouth. He had already consumed a large amount Irkin alcohol, and was struggling to keep it down. After a moment the fit of nausea passed, and he poured half of the remaining drink into his recently empty glass.
"I'm beginning to think…" started Red once more, "That I'm not worthy to be a Tallest."
"Don't say that," said Purple, more annoyed at the comment than worried. Red persisted.
"No I'm not…"
"Yes you are, don't be stupid."
"But I was so-"
"C'mon, you are so worthy." He picked up the two drinks and turned towards Red. He struggled to keep from wobbling as he walked towards his co-ruler, but he managed not to waver. He crouched down next to Red and extended a drink in a sort of peace offering.
"Here."
Red looked at the drink, then at Purple, and then finally took it. He took a sip as Purple sat next to him, and almost spat it out. It was inconceivably strong, and he guessed it was mostly strait liquor. He could detect no flavoring.
Purple, however, was almost done with what would be his third. If one thing could be said about Purple, it was that he could hold his liquor. He could remain coherent while most would be vomiting their guts out. Red, despite the horrid taste, continued to drink.
Red traced his thumb around the rim of the glass. It was of fine quality, custom made for him and Purple. The light reflected brilliantly off its neck and base, illuminating his palm. He sighed as he watched Purple drain his of all contents.
"That can't be good for you." He said without looking at him. Purple smiled, his mouth still full of liquid, and then swallowed. He stood, shakily at first, but then stabilized. He looked down as Red with drunken affection.
"Have a bit more confidence will ya? You're depressing me."
"You sure that isn't the drinks?"
Purple let out a single "Hah!" as he flung his head back. He looked back at Red and whipped his mouth with the back of his hand. "No, it's definitely you."
Red smiled sadly and sighed deeply. Purple growled.
"Snap out of it."
"I don't think I can."
Without warning, Purple threw his glass across the room. It hit the wall just next to the bar, and the tiny bit of remaining alcohol stained the paint as the glass shattered. The broken shards hit the carpeting and several bounced a few feet away from the wall. They both just stared at the spot where it had hit for a few moments, and sound of its impact still fresh in their ears.
Red turned to look at Purple. "That glass was two hundred credits."
"I'll buy you another one."
Purple faced his partner, hesitated, then extended his hand towards him. Red just sat motionless.
"C'mon."
"What?"
"Just take it, OK?"
Red hesitated, then put down his drink and took Purple's outstretched hand. Purple pulled him up, and immediately they embraced. Purple put an arm around Red's neck, and kissed him on the lips. At first Red didn't respond, but after a few second he began to. As they progressed, Red found himself becoming hot. He wanted Purple more then he had ever wanted him. This was more then just lust this was NEED. He felt as if he NEEDED Purple at that moment. To forget his insecurities and simply give in. He gripped his shoulders and kissed him deeply.
Eventually, they found their way to his bed, and crashed there. Red put Purple's legs around his waist and looked down at his lover.
"You know, you're surprisingly sexy for a drunk."
Purple grabbed the back of Red's neck, pulling their faces a few inches closer. "Shut up, Red." He commanded simply, and brought their mouths together.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
After landing, they opened the doors of the ship. At first Dib was worried about them all being sucked into the vacuum of space, but Zim explained that the diner was surrounded by an air force field, so that they would be able to breath. Dib hesitantly complied.
They stepped out, and the first thing they noticed was the sky. There were stars as far as the eye could see. Zim said that the lack of an atmosphere made almost everything visible. Dib was really nervous and wouldn't step off the ramp of the ship.
"It's OK Dib," said Zim. "Just imagine we're on Earth, and its night."
Dib did, and after a while it didn't seem so bad. The hoax that it was Earth worked – that is, if you ignored the fact that the ground ended about 300 yards away.
They walked towards a building, that was surprisingly diner looking. It was one story, with window in the front so you could see the diners eating. None of the aliens in the window resembled Zim, and this worried Dib.
"Zim, none of these…things… look like you. Why?"
"These are aliens of the worlds the Empire have conquered. From the looks of it, Spluge's Diner has changed a lot since I've been here. Watch your back when we walk in – and stay close to me."
As the neared, Gaz noticed a neon-looking sign above the double doors. It was at an angle, and Red symbols were illuminated. The writing was foreign, but she guessed it was the diner's name. She followed the other two inside.
Zim opened the door and they all stepped inside. Neither one of the aliens inside looked at all friendly. Most had weapons slung about them, keeping them close as they ate. Slowly, as the three took their seats at the counter, all heads – or the equivalent – turned towards them.
Zim began to order, but stopped when he heard the shuffling around him. He looked over his shoulder, to see that every creature in the place had surrounded the three. Gaz had turned her stool to face them, but her expression didn't fill him with confidence. She inched her hand towards the switchblade at the small of her back.
Zim turned his head over his shoulder, just long enough to see the mob of space scum that had assembled around them. In the middle, looking directly at him was a Reaptarian with one, jagged scar on his face stretching from his brow, across his eye and over the corner of his mouth. Zim saw no other part of the Reaptarian fleet, which ment that this one was rogue – a traitor to his people. He brandished several weapons in his many hands. He pointed one of them at Zim as he spoke.
"You've got a lot of nerve, Irkin," said the Reaptarian in a language neither Gaz nor Dib could understand. Zim turned back towards the counter and swirled his complementary drink, which like water on Earth, was always there.
"Coming around here with your slaves, right after the battle at Food Courtia," he sneered visibly. "You must have a death wish, because that's all that's here for you." He snapped one of his wrists, which brought out a long blade. It made Gaz's switchblade look like a butter knife.
Of course, Zim had no idea what battle he was talking about, so he bluffed. "It's a free empire," said Zim in the same language, "I can move about however I choose. And these aren't my slaves, for your information. Now are you going to leave us alone or do I have to MAKE you leave us alone?"
An angered murmur swept through the room. The Reaptarian growled loudly and another blade emerged. Zim didn't move.
"Tough words for An Irkin scum like you."
That did it. They both charged at the same instance. Zim spun off the stool and brought a blaster out from under his shirt, which had assumably been there the entire time. The Scared alien maneuvered with his blade as Zim quickly approached, but they ended in a stalemate.
They both stood, the blade at Zim's neck and his blaster under the Reaptarian's chin. They snarled at each other, faces inches apart. The Reaptarian began to apply pressure and Zim brought back the blaster's hammer.
Just then, there was a loud slamming sound. A chubby, aging Irkin with faint red eyes busted through the kitchen doors, aiming what looked to be a very large, very advanced riffle at the two battle-locked aliens. He held it against his shoulder, head down and one eye closed for a good shot. All motion stopped in the diner.
"Now you boys got two choices," said the Irkin in a husky voice. "You could put down your weapons and leave this place, or-" he chambered a round into the gun. "I could blast your scummy hides up to your maker. Which is it gonna be?"
Zim and the alien, whose eyes had never left each other, remained locked as they lowered their weapons.
"There we go, all friendly like. Now all of you – get the hell out. This diner is temporarily closed."
The mob angrily dispersed. They filed out and headed towards their ships. The Reaptarian turned towards Zim before he left. "Tu paka` mi siyo porl`chinta," he snarled. "Fol kalon."
"Tu pa` sakomi," Growled Zim. He slid his hand out from under his chin and spit towards the alien. The alien began to charge, but the riffle cocked once more. He growled threateningly as he reluctantly left.
Zim sighed, and turned back to Dib and Gaz – but was met with the barrel of a long gun first. The Irkin behind the trigger seemed no less on edge despite the fact that the mob was gone. Zim gulped and tried to keep his composure.
"Why aren't you leaving, boy? What part of 'get the hell out' don't you understand?"
Zim looked at the old Irkin. He wore simple black slacks, a white shirt and an apron over that. The apron was stained with various food elements, most of which Zim couldn't' identify. He looked aged and stressed, but it was still him. It was Spluge himself.
"Spluge…" said Zim softly. "Don't you remember? The invasions? The stories? How you would serve up the stew after each one? Don't you remember?"
Spluge's eyes fell to the ground for a moment, but soon looked back up at Zim.
"My hearing must not be what it used to, because for a second there you sounded mighty familiar."
Zim smiled cautiously. "It's…it's me Spluge… It's Zim."
Spluge shook his head firmly, and for a second Zim thought he saw a tear well at the bottom of the old Irkin's eye. "Zim's dead."
"No he's NOT," Said Zim, taking a step closer. The gun leveled higher as he approached. "It's really me, I'M Zim. I can't really explain it… it would take a lifetime to… but it's me."
Spluge's lip seemed to tremble for a moment, and he bit it to make it stop. He stared at Zim, wanting to believe. "Prove it."
"Oh what an invasion!" said Zim in a loud, triumphant voice. "They were everywhere – but I, ZIM, triumphed. Oh it was grand, Spluge, you should have been there when they awarded ME the medal for outstanding performance on the battlefield! Oh, the Tallest themselves were there!" He shook his fists for emphasis, and cackled evilly after he was done. He ended with his fists on his hips and the same old egotistical grin of his face. Dib was actually a little taken aback as he watched Zim resurrect his old self.
Spluge dropped the gun on the counter. "Zim?"
"Spluge!"
They both embraced, laughing hysterically. After a moment, Spluge gripped Zim by the shoulders and looked him over. "Well I'll be a slaughtering-rat- person's dinner! Look at you! I almost SHOT you, you've gotten so tall!"
For the first time ever, Gaz and Dib saw Zim visibly blush. "Well, I kinda had to, under the circumstances."
"What? OH! You've got to tell me what has happened to you. Where have you been?"
Zim smiled sadly. "It's a long story, old friend, but I'll be glad to share it with you."