Here's the next part of the story! Enjoy Zim's adventures in Speedo Bottom!

1 PART TWO

Zim looked down on the town below him. From the parking lot at the end of the road to the Petrified Forest, a series of stairs lead down to the residential area and the elevator to the lower part of the town. By walking past the elevator and going down more stairs, you would find the police station and morgue. From there, cross a long bridge high over the water and you would find yourself at the giant Pig Track. You could walk through the track and get down to the lower part of town, where the docks were. Long pathways, intersecting at one spot connected three docks. Two of the three docks were occupied. One of the docks was connected by a folding bridge to the pig track, had a big cruise ship in said dock, and was also where Velasco stored the Doom Wagon. One of the docks was home to Velasco and was occupied by a small normal boat. The third dock was the shipyard, currently empty. The shipyard had a long, curving path that lead to the lighthouse. One more path led away from this intersection and went to the Blue Pod, the second best nightclub in town and where the elevator went. "Looks like a quiet night in old Speedo Bottom." He thought to himself. He walked back into the cactus, into his office/bedroom. He had a nice desk, a low bed, and an end table and chair. There was also a bathroom and changing wall, but that's not as important. Zim had only been a janitor for a week before he was lucky enough to be included in a high-stakes poker game with the boss. He actually won, gaining ownership of the automat. Deciding the place needed to be changed, Zim had undergone a massive renovation job, taking out the floor in the original automat and deepening it, making a small restaurant and a casino. His desk concealed the control panel for the roulette tables. It came with a magnet so he could cause the little ball to always roll to a certain number and color on the wheel. Of course, this was cheating, but it was also the only way to keep the police from raiding the club. The police chief, Bogen the crime dog, was rather fond of gambling and came tot he casino often. As long as he always won, Zim ensured that he would not be shut down. He considered what he should do that night. Go to bed early, perhaps? No, there was always a chance that…she would show up. The chance was admittedly slim. But he did have hope. He noticed a pile of letters on his desk and picked them up. They were his "wartime communications" with Patrick, all but the first one delivered by one of the new homing pigeons. Pat had named the first two hatchlings Little Zim and Little Rana. Cute. They even got little berets. Patrick had kept him up to date on the LTA's successes and failures, while Zim did his part to aid the cause by watching out for any criminal influences in Speedo Bottom. And what better way to find out about criminal influences than to own a casino? Of course, it was probably just an excuse he had made up for himself. The real reason he had radically changed the old automat to the Café Irkana was an attempt to impress Rana if she ever showed up. It had been four months, but there was still a chance…anyway, in one letter Patrick had mentioned how thanks to the pigeons and the computer access Zim had given them, the revolution was spreading and gaining power. He said it was all thanks to Zim, and even said, "I, Patrick Star of the Lost Toons Alliance, salute you Invader Zim, a great ally in this noble revolution." Pat had also discovered whom the mastermind that had taken over the crime groups in the city and Nickelodeon itself. It was none other than Emperor Bog, villain from the Butt Ugly Martians. What his true purposes were had yet to be seen, though. For no real reason, Zim put the letters in his pod, his intuition telling him they might come in handy. He headed downstairs to see how business was going. Right at the bottom of the stairs was the entrance and cloakroom. Lope, the cloak girl, was scurrying around just beneath the counter of the cloakroom widow. It was obvious that the female dog had gotten into the sugar again. Lope was an incredibly energetic and bubbly person who often got on people's nerves. She also had a bizarre fascination with coats, which was why she was perfect for the job. Then again, she may have been a little too fascinated with coats. She had a motto, "We must all hang together, or we will surely run out of coat hangers." Walking softly to avoid Lope's interest, Zim went through the door that led to the restaurant. He was on the landing with the stairs that led down to the floor of the café. It was empty at the moment. The only person in the room at the moment was Gir, who was playing the piano. Strangely, he was actually quite good at it. Since clothes didn't really fit on Gir, Zim had just painted him so it looked as if he was wearing a cute little white tuxedo. Zim walked down the stairs and over to Gir. Gir immediately sensed his approach. "Hi Master!"

"Hi Gir. How are things going tonight?"

"Holidays aren't good for business, Master. But last night-remember last night Master? Whooee!"

"What about the casino?"

"It's booming, as usual. Weird, you'd think they'd be home spending time with their families and taquitos."

"Maybe they have no families. After all, when you've got nothing to go home to, you've got nothing to lose."

Gir thought about that for a moment. "Hey, that's a good one, Master! We should put that over the door."

Zim shrugged. "Maybe." He looked around his nice little club, leaning against the banister. "You know, I'm actually gonna miss this place when we leave."

Gir stopped playing for a moment, a little sad. "Ah Master, do we have to leave? I like it here. We've got this great club, three square meals a day, Max lets me take out Doomy on his track once a week, plus we look good in these suits."

"Yeah, but I wasn't meant to run a nightclub/restaurant/casino, Gir. We're actors, sort of. But don't worry, we'll enjoy this place while we're here."

"Okay." Said Gir, continuing his piano playing.

"What song are you playing?"

"Oh, it's a song I wrote for a 'special lady', if you catch my drift."

"Let's hear it."

Gir started playing a little more energetically. "Oooooh, Oooooooooh, Ooooo-oooooo-ooooooooohhhhhhhhh, Dooooooooooooooom Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaagoooooooooon."

"Hmm. I like it." He leaned there for a few minutes, listening to Gir play. "Gir, do you think she'll come in tonight?"

"Who, my special lady?"

"No, Rana."

"You know what, Master? I think she will."

"Thanks. Mind if I pass through?"

"Go right ahead."

Zim walked through the café, entering the casino. It was a small thing, only three roulette tables and nothing else. There were some nice decorations and some booths, though. There were four people at the roulette tables, a couple of old, yet rich people, a guy wearing a turban, and Police Chief Bogen, who was winning ads usual. Squidjoe was standing in the middle of the three roulette, making announcements now and then as to bets. After the makeover, Squidjoe had been promoted from janitor to croupier, a job he took to quite well. It was not the gamblers, Bogen, or Squidjoe that drew his attention however. It was the small fish sitting in one of the booths. A mackerel that didn't belong. Frowning, Zim walked over to the booth and climbed in, facing the mackerel. "Hello, Charles. Mind if I sit here?"

The mackerel, Chowchilla Charlie, blinked his huge eyes. "Of course not Zim, of course not. After all, it is your restaurant, isn't it?"

"Yeah, so what are you doing in it? I thought I told you not to come back here until you can pay off your bar tab. And it doesn't look like you've got it."

Charlie shrugged. "Well, I would be at the Pig Track, but they kicked me out for printing fake betting stubs. So now I have to come here. Er, which I love, which I love."

Zim was interested. "How did you print fake betting stubs?"

"With this," said Charlie, pulling a handheld printer from a pocket in his fancy suit. It had a little pig's head emblazoned on it, indicating it printed fake stubs used at the Pig Track. "Isn't she a beauty? Last time I was in prison, I shared a cell with the most dishonest con man I ever met. He was strictly small time only, and I managed to swipe this off of him."

Zim grabbed the printer and stuffed it in his pod. "Hey, thanks. I'll keep this as collateral until you can pay off your tab."

"But…but…oh, Zim…"

"I'll be taking my leave now, Charlie. Have fun. And if I catch you trying to mess with my roulette tables again, I'll strap a taco to your head and trap you in the same room as Gir."

Before Charlie could protest anymore, Zim crawled out of the booth and left the casino. Walking up to the coatroom, he started out the door until Lope called to him. "Zim! Come over here!" Zim sighed and walked over. Lope popped up from her counter. "HI ZIM! How're you doing tonight?"

"Fine, Lope. You?"

"Just great, boss! Of course, we could have more coats, but…" she shrugged. "Anyway, I have to tell you all about my new coat filing system! Listen. I found these plastic tiles with numbers and pictures on them left over from the automat in the back, so I took them and…" Lope then went into an incredibly long and fairly incomprehensible explanation of her coat check system. Zim had lost any form of comprehension after the mention of the plastic tiles and started dozing off. Lope finally finished. "…And that's how everything works! Cool, huh? Well, I've gotta to go back to swimming in the coats now. Bye!"

She ducked back under the counter. Zim woke up a few minutes later. "Huh? Wha? What happened? Oh well." Zim could vaguely remember something about Lope and incredible boredom. He was still a little bored, and decided to take a little stroll, go out on the town. He left the Café and started down the stairs to the landing. After his little accident because the prior management had not put up any sort of safety measures for the edge of the landing, Zim had put in a railing and also a pair of sight-seeing binoculars for the tourists so they could look around the town. Since he wanted the viewfinder to be accessible to Irkens like himself, he had put in steps so one of his size (such as Rana) could stand on them and see through the scope. He looked over at the binoculars and blinked. He could see the silhouette of a figure there. It looked like an Irken…could it be? He ran down the stairs and started walking towards the figure. "Rana? Rana, is that you?"

The figure was turned away from him. It responded in a familiar voice. His squeegly-spootch soared for a moment, it was Rana! But then her words registered. "Zim, I've been so lonely. Why didn't you come looking for me?"

"I tried…really…why did you run out of my office?"

"Because you were disappointed in me. You said I was no good. I've been lost and scared in the world for a whole four months now…" The figure whirled around. "And it's all because of YOU!" Zim recoiled. It wasn't Rana at all, but a huge raven with the head of an Irken! No, the head was not that of an Irken, the antennae were replaced by horns, the eyes had a hint of blackness in their colored depths, and the teeth were razor-sharp needles instead of zipper-like. The raven flapped its wings, soaring into the air. After Zim got over his initial shock, he realized something. That…that thing had imitated Rana's voice exactly, which meant it must have met Rana at some point. It was a long shot, but Zim knew he had to see where the bird was going, it might lead him to a clue about Rana! A pair of high-yield binoculars snapped out of his utility pod, placing themselves over his face. Running to the railing, Zim followed the monster bird with his eyes. It flew down to the dock near the pig track, flying by the ship there, a large Irken-style hovering cruise vessel named the Big. As the bird flew by the ship, it passed near one of the hatches leading into the ship, flying over a couple. As Zim continued to follow the bird, he paid no mind to the couple until he realized he knew who they were. Looking back at the hatch, he saw a male and a female toon. The male seemed to be enticing the reluctant female up the gangplank into the ship. Except it was no ordinary male toon. It was Dib. And he wasn't leading a normal female toon up the gangplank either. It was Rana.

He shoved the binoculars back in the utility pod and activated his spider legs, running at top speed down towards the elevator, knowing he had to get to the docks in time. He did it without even thinking, for if he had he might be considering why he was doing this. After all, Dib was her rightful deliverer. If he hadn't tried to save his job, she would already be at the employment office. In fact, chances were Dib was helping Rana to get there. So why did he experience this glargle-snarfle-wrenching feeling at the sight of Dib and Rana together? Making it to the dock, he saw he was too late, the ship was starting to move out, hovering away. Zim raced up the ramp to the upper part of the dock, and jumped off the edge, trying to reach the gangplank before it got too far away, not really caring or noticing that if he missed, he'd fall right into the water. He made it, grabbing onto the edge of the gangplank with his claw-tips. As he started to pull himself up, he saw Rana walk into the entryway of the hatch. He tried to call out to her, but was using up his breath trying to get onto the gangplank. He looked up at her for a moment, halfway on the plank. Their eyes met. In the opaque green depths of her eyes, Zim could swear he sadness, and what looked like a tear starting to form. Her spider legs popped out of her utility pod and aimed at the base of the gangplank. Before Zim could yell at her to stop, she fired her lasers, blasting the plank from the side of the ship and sending him hurtling to the dock below. As he fell, he was unable to hear her whisper, "I'm sorry Zim."

He hit the dock hard, falling unconscious. As he blacked out, he thought he heard Velasco's voice say, "Not again…"

A little while later…Velasco had dragged Zim back to his home on one of the other docks, where a rusty old boat (not a hover ship, but a boat) was anchored. Zim had quickly recovered and explained his situation, and also explained that he needed to get to wherever that ship was going on the next boat or ship leaving. Velasco had shook his head. "Zim, the Big is heading for Zapato. That's on the other side of the world. The only ship bound for there is the ol' Macarena over there."

"Okay, I'll take her. When can I board?"

"The Macarena is small cargo, son! Every hand on board works!"

"I'll work!"

"What are your skills?"

"Acting, sales, and restaurant management."

"Hmm…there IS an opening in the engine room…"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, and your buddy Gir would be perfect for the job! But he would need to bring his own tools."

"What kind of tools?"

"Authentic Seabee tools."

"Where am I going to find authentic Seabee tools?"

"Why don't you try asking a Seabee?"

"Good point. So if I get Gir Seabee tools, we can get on the Macarena?"

"Well, he can join. The engine room is the only place with an opening, Zim. There's no room for a place like you. In fact, the whole crew's already on board, waiting to leave at dawn." Velasco paused. "Well, all except the one guy who hasn't come back yet, but he'll be there, you can be sure of that."

"Who is he?"

"Seaman Andrew Naranja, a human toon. He's not here at the moment, but as I said, he will be."

"What job does he have on the ship?"

"He runs the galley."

"Ah ha! Restaurant management!"

"Yeah, what he does is a lot like what you do, except the fish are fresher on the Macarena." He laughed at the joke. Zim didn't.

"Where is Naranja now?"

"Well, if I were him I would be stocking up on recipes for the coming voyage. Of course, I'm not him. He told me he was going to Toto's Scrimshaw Tattoo Parlor. Said something about getting a neat tattoo to wow all the others."

"So if Naranja doesn't show up when it's time to go, can I have his job on the Macarena?"

"Zim, all of the sailors are members of the Maritime Union. You are not a member of the Union."

"Hey, you know that and I know that, but we're a couple of guys who can keep a secret right?"

"The captain will ask for your union card, and if you don't have one, they'll throw you overboard." Zim shivered. "Yeah, I know, a horrible death for you. And what's worse, I'll get fined. It's a tough union kid, and I don't mess with them." He paused, taking a whiff on his pipe.

"Where can I get a union card?"

"You can't! Not before dawn, anyway." He thought for a moment. "However…"

"Yes?"

"The captain is a mite farsighted. He won't be able to necessarily guarantee the authenticity of a union card, if you catch my drift."

Zim blinked for a moment, catching his drift. "Well, where could I get a fake union card?"

"Now I can't tell you that, Zim. Against the rules. But if I were you, I'd look for a guy good at faking things."

Zim tried to sort it all out in his head. "Okay, let me get this straight. If I get Gir some Seabee tools-"

"Then I can get him a job on the Macarena."

"And if Naranja doesn't show up-"

"Which he will."

"And if I get a union card-"

"Which you'll never get."

"Then I can sail on the Macarena in the morning."

Velasco looked frustrated. He sighed. "I guess so."

"Good, I just wanted to make sure. Well, I'd better go get started."

"Good luck, boy. You'll need it." Velasco called after Zim as he started walking to the bridge intersection I mentioned earlier.

Zim headed down to the shipyard dock, where he knew the Seabees worked. The Seabees were specialized cartoons, created not to go on any show but to build ships. Zim was buddies with one of the smarter bees, Terry Malloy, so figured he could get some tools from him. As he entered the shipyard, he saw a bunch of Seabees working on the metal framework for a new ship, using their big tools on it. Terry wasn't among them. Zim wondered where he was, until he saw three bees standing in front of a burning garbage can, trying to keep themselves warm. Terry was one of them. Zim walked over, surprised that they weren't working. He approached Terry. "Hey Terry, how are you doing?"

The large insect noticed his friend. "Oh, hi Zim. Things aren't looking good."

"I can see that. Why aren't you working with the others? Aren't you with the union?"

Terry laughed hollowly. "The union? The union doesn't look out for little guys like us! They only do what gives them more money. You don't know what it's like down here, pal. I mean, come on Zim. A guy comes down tot he docks, trying to do his job and earn an honest living, but then finds out that the union demands irregular expenses for no reason at all or you get fired. Me and the boys here couldn't pay, so they stuck us on barrel duty here."

"Why don't you just pay off the dues?"

"We bees got our pride, Zim! Besides, we just don't have the dough for that kind of thing."

"Do you think you could lend me some of your tools?"

"Sorry, we sold them to feed our families."

Zim mulled over that. "But Terry, if you sold your tools, how are you ever going to get back to work?"

"I told you things were messed up down here Zim, I told you! I mean, to get work around here you've gotta be a crooked bee. It's like the solution makes the problem…uh…worse."

"Like a catch-22?"

"Yeah! Gee, I wish I knew words like that."

"Why is the union doing this kind of thing?"

"The union around here is run by the cops, Zim. And the cops are crooked. You should know about that better than anyone."

"Eh?"

"We all know the cops are in bed with gambling."

"Hey, that's not true! My club isn't in bed with anybody!"

"What about the protection money?"

"We pay it on the nose, through the nose, just like any honest joint should!"

Terry shook his head. "See what I mean, Zim? This whole town, it's like a conga line of hustlers, laughing and dancing and scratching each other's backs, leaving guys like us in the dirt."

"I'm sorry I can't help you out with your union problem, Terry."

"Ah, you can't do anything, Zim. But the way I see it, the workers should control…control…something…I mean, things should be run…different…I mean…oh forget it! I'm just a dumb, underfed out of work bee. I'm not the kind of guy who could organize a revolt or labor organization."

Zim nodded and was about to leave when he thought of something. He turned around. "Terry?"

"Yeah?"

"If the cops run the union, and gambling's in bed with the cops…"

"Then who's running the gambling, eh? Well the way I hear it, Maximino is the bigwig here in Speedo Bottom, but I also hear he gets his orders from some guys back in Nick City."

"Hmm. Thanks for the info, Terry."

"Anytime. I just hope I don't starve to death out here."

Zim walked away from the poor bees, wondering how he could help them and get their tools. Then Terry's mentioning of labor organization and revolt popped up in his mind. Of course! He knew just the place where he could learn everything he needed to know about that sort of thing. He ran over to the Blue Pod. The Blue Pod was more than just a restaurant and nightclub, it was also a hotel. A cat named Olivia, who was able to afford the place because she was Max's girlfriend, ran and owned it. He entered the doors to the Blue Pod, shuddering as he saw what was inside. It was a fairly dark room, lit by little pink lamps all over the place. There was a small raised platform with a microphone on it, surrounded by spotlights. All of the people sitting at the tables were wearing black, berets, and sunglasses, some of which were sucking on hookahs. They were beatniks. Communist beatniks. He walked towards a group of three beatniks, who were chatting about what would happen after the democratic government was overthrown and the people took over. Zim noticed a red book with a star on the cover lying on the table, "Labor Organizations and Revolts made Easy." It was exactly what he was looking for! As he stood on his toes, reaching out to take the book, his hand was slapped away by one of the beatniks. "Hey, get away from that!" growled one of the three, a human.

"Well, well, well, look who's here!" exclaimed a Martian, looking displeased.

"If it isn't Invader Zim, the very incarnation of the bourgeois upper class." Snarled the third, an Irken with brown eyes.

"Hey guys. Do you mind if I borrow this book for a while?" Zim asked.

"Yes, we do mind." Said the human.

"Go back to your sleazy restaurant, where you can have fun with all your greed-driven friends." Hissed the Irken.

"Yeah, we're talking about things you wouldn't understand, like truth and beauty!" added the Martian.

Grumbling, Zim turned away. Bourgeois, eh? He would show them! He would show those deadbeats he was more revolutionary than all of them put together! None were more revolutionary than Zim! He pulled out the letters from Patrick and headed back to the beatniks. "Hey, did I ever tell you guys you reminded me of my good friend…Patrick Star?"

The Irken snorted. "Patrick Star is a mere fairy tale, created by the cops as they hush us to bed at night."

The human seemed greatly angered by this. "You idiot! Patrick Star is a very real and a very great, great cartoon!"

"He also writes a mean letter. Wanna see?" asked Zim, waving the messages in the air.

The human took them from his hand and looked at them. His buddies got out of their seats and leaned over his shoulder to see the letters. "I, Patrick Star of the Lost Toons Alliance, salute you Invader Zim." he read off in disbelief.

"A great ally in this noble revolution." Finished the Martian.

The human handed back the letters, surprised. "You know Patrick Star? What's he like?"

"Why didn't you tell us you were a freedom fighter, Zim?" asked the Irken.

"Hey, I've got to keep my cover down, if it's blown this whole gig will be in Dangerville!"

"Whoa." Said the Martian.

"So do you mind if I take your book?"

"Go ahead, brother." Said the Irken.

"Thanks. Oh, and…Viva le Revolucion." The beatniks shivered, impressed. Zim grabbed the book. He was about to leave, until he saw a friend of his at the back of the club, where the doors to the kitchen and Olivia's office were, out of sight from the rest of the beatniks. He walked over and confronted her. "Laura, what are you doing here? I don't think this crowd would go for pictures, except maybe ones of Lenin."

Laura was a cat, a freelance club photographer. "Zim, I'm here to prove to Maximino once and for all that Olivia's no good for him!"

Zim sighed and shook his little green head. "Still hung up on Max, eh? Take it from me and stay away from Max. He's a gambling racketeer."

"Kinda like you?" Laura joked.

"Oh that hurts, baby." Zim said, feigning pain.

They both started to chuckle, but Laura silenced him. "Shh! I hear someone coming!"

Zim moved just out of view from Olivia's office door, to keep himself from getting seen. Laura got her camera ready. The office door opened, and two cats stepped into view. One was Olivia, a purple feline with a brown jacket and a beret. The other was Mick Virago, Maximino's lawyer. He had a red tie and a blue suit, not to mention blue fur. Their clothes and fur seemed a bit mussed, probably from whatever it was they had been doing in the office, if you get my meaning. Zim had never really gotten to liking either Olivia or Mick, though Max seemed okay. Olivia was bad enough because of her whole fake more revolutionary than thou attitude and her manipulative means, but Zim absolutely hated Mick. He was the kind of guy who gave lawyers a bad reputation. Mick leaned a little closer to Olivia, not noticing their watchers. "Come on sugar, how about one more for the road?" asked Mick.

Olivia waved her hand. "Oh ick, Mick. You're a lawyer. You're not supposed to have feelings."

"I don't, but I sure know a good tart when I see one." She shrugged, and they both moved in for a kiss. As they locked mouths, Laura took the picture, surprising the two felines. "What the?" Before they could do anything, Laura was running out of the Blue Pod. Mick was horrified. "If she gets that picture to Maximino, we'll be in matching terracotta pots!"

Olivia shrugged. "He wouldn't dare harm me. He loves me."

"Yeah, but I have no such assurance." Retorted Mick, running after Laura.

As Zim watched him leave, Olivia called to him. "Ah Zim, at last we can talk alone. How are things with the upper class bourgeois?"

Zim walked over to her, giving her a knowing glare. "Fine. How's Max?"

"Oh please, don't start on me gramps."

"What are you doing with Mick?"

"Well I'd lay it on you daddy, but I doubt you'd get it."

"Mating with your boyfriend's lawyer sounds pretty dangerous to me."

"Oh, maybe I was wrong. You do understand."

Zim decided to change the subject, not really wanting to probe too far. Olivia had great influence over Max, if she wanted she could have Zim's little club burned to the ground. "I'm a little worried about Laura…"

"That's because she's doomed Zim. She fell in love with Maximino. That's one mistake I never made."

"Do you think Mick will hurt her?"

Olivia laughed. "Of course he'll hurt her. But he'll have to find her first, and take it from me, he's not good at finding things."

Zim did not want to think about what she meant by that, so he changed topics again. "Open Mic night doesn't seem like much of a success."

"Yes, it always takes those timid souls a while to get up the courage to stand in front of everyone."

"Maybe you should go out there, get thinks rolling."

She looked surprised. "Read poetry in my own club? Zim, that would be like saying this whole place is just a temple built to worship myself."

You mean it's not? He thought. Out loud, he said, "Come on, just-"

"Okay!" She walked over to the microphone and got everyone's attention. "Ahem. Scribbles to scribbles…to scribbles to scribbles…to scribbles to scribbles…to scribbles to scribbles…to me…to scribbles to scribbles…to scribbles to scribbles." The beatniks applauded. She started another one. It went like this:

With furry hands I hold my partner

On shoeless feet we cross the floor

The music stops as if to answer

An empty knocking at the door

It seems his fur was sweet as mango

When last I held him to my breast

But now we dance this grim fandango

And will a year before we rest.

The beatniks applauded again as she walked away from the microphone and back to her office door. "That was great." Lied Zim.

"Yeah, but it's the last one."

Zim decided to just leave Olivia alone. He knew he should leave, but first he decided he should check out the kitchen. He entered the kitchen just in time to see the waiter mix the Blue Pod's specialty drinks, a concoction made of gelatin and dirty hookah water. The combination gave the drink a special kick that usually knocked the drinker out for several hours. The waiter suddenly realized Zim was there and got nervous. "Hey man, you didn't see me add the special ingredient, did you?"

"Relax, Olivia stole the recipe from me in the first place."

"Yeah, she steals from the rich and gives to me to pour."

The waiter placed the drinks on a platter and carried them out of the kitchen. Zim noticed the sink was full of dirty hookah water. He knew that if he ran into Naranja, he'd have to make sure he didn't show up for work, and maybe drinking a little hookah water would keep him on ice for a while. After climbing up to the sink, Zim extended a mechanical arm with a sort of syringe from his backpack, siphoning up a little hookah water and safely storing it away. With nothing else in the kitchen, he left. As he left the restaurant, he noticed the waiter giving a drink to a girl. She gulped it down, started wobbling, then fell unconscious. Zim shrugged and headed down tot he shipyard, knowing he had to give the book to Terry. He handed the renamed copy of the Communist Manifesto to the bee. "I believe these are the words you're looking for."

Terry started looking at the book. "The workers…shall control the method of production. The workers shall control the method of production! Yes! These are the words I'm looking for!"

Half an hour later…Terry had finished reading through the book and was now ready to make his speech to his fellow Seabees. "Fellow Seabees, we have let the rich upper class push us around for too long! When will the fat cats of industry stop using the exploited pollen of the working class? Lay down your tools and join me now!" Curious, the working Seabees stopped what they were doing and came closer. Terry went on to describe the cruelties that had been placed upon them, and how they should do something about it. "I say we fight back!" he yelled. The other Seabees agreed and started cheering "Union! Union! Union!"

Zim was pleased. It looked as if he was going to get the tools quicker than he had expected. That's when he saw a dog in a blue uniform approaching the bees. He quickly hid behind a metal support, not wanting Bogen to spot him. Terry was doing a sort of dance, until Bogen grabbed him behind. "Well, well, what have we here? A bee agitator? I only thought bees came in two colors, yellow and black, but you look all red to me, comrade."

"Hey, let me go! We have the right to assemble peacefully!"

"Yes, and that right will come in handy because you'll need a lot of assembling after we take you apart!"

Bogen handcuffed all four of Terry's arms and started dragging him to the police station. As he struggled, Terry yelled, "Zim! Get me a lawyer! Get me a lawyer!"

As the bees that had been curious shrugged and got back to work, Zim shook his head. "Bogen's got him…that's gonna make it tough for me to get him back out here. And the only lawyer I can think of is…oh no…Mick Virago." He sighed. "Well, I'll try to find him later. Let's see if I can scrounge up that union card. The best faker I know would be Charlie. Better head back to the Café, then." He left the docks and headed back to the Blue Pod, using the elevator there to get back to upper Speedo Bottom. He took the walk to his club and headed to the restaurant part, where he decided to lay the news on Gir. "Gir, I just had a run-in with Dib and Rana. We're leaving at dawn."

"Wha? How?"

"Dib's got Rana. We're leaving on the next ship out of town."

"What should I do?"

"For now, sit tight and keep playing."

"Sit here: check! Okay."

Zim nodded and headed over to the casino, where he slipped into Charlie's booth once more. "Ah Zim, you're back! Are you going to return my betting stub printer?"

"No, but I did want to know what else you could fake."

"Nothing." Said Charlie. Zim glared. "Anything. What do you want?"

"Can you do passports?"

"Zim, there is no need for passports here! We are all members of the same nation, and our king rides an orange steed."

"So no passports?"

"No, those little holograms are so tricky, you know?"

"What about driver's licenses?"

"Sure, just give me fifty bucks and about two weeks."

"Actually, I already have a license. I was just checking. Let's cut to the chase, Charles. What about union cards?"

Charlie was surprised. "Zim? Are you looking to moonlight or do you just want to hang out with sailors?"

"Lay it to me straight, Chuck. Can you make a union card or what?"

Charlie hemmed and hawed a bit. "Tell you what Zim. You do me a little favor, and I can make you president of that crooked union."

"I don't want to be president, I just want to be in it. What's the favor?"

"A month ago, I put up a very large wager at the pig track. I used a suitcase full of money as collateral. The race was rigged Zim. They took it from me, like common thieves! I want you to get that suitcase back." He handed Zim a card with several running pigs embossed on it. "This VIP pass will allow you to get into the High Roller's Lounge in the track, and from there you should be able to gain access to the wine cellar. There should be a safe in the wine cellar, and in that safe will be my suitcase. Got it?"

"And the card?"

"If you make it back, Zim, the card will be on the table."

Zim nodded and got up, starting to leave. He realized that Charlie had also unknowingly given him the means to get to Mick Virago, since the lawyer would probably be enjoying the splendor of the High Roller's Lounge. He would get to Charlie's money eventually, but he wanted to help out Terry first. He headed for the exit to the building, when he was stopped by Lope. "Hey Zim, I've got something here for you from Laura."

"Laura? What is it?"

"I just said she left something here for you a little while ago. Hold on, I'll get it." She disappeared under the counter, burrowing through whatever she had in the cloakroom. "Now where ids it? I got a whole new system for messages. Is it here? Yes! No! Over here! No! Be quiet! Ah ha!" She jumped back up, holding an envelope. She frowned. "Hey, something's wrong."

"What?"

"The envelope's empty. When Laura gave it to me, it felt like there was something in it, a key."

"A key?"

"Yeah, but it's gone now. Did somebody come back here and snake the key while I wasn't looking? Who would do something like that?"

Zim shrugged and left the restaurant, but he was troubled. In his mind, the only person who would have taken this key Laura left for him would have been someone chasing her. It had to have been Mick. But where did this key go? And why hadn't Mick wanted him to find it? As he walked away from the Café' Irkana, heading past the police station and morgue on the way to the pig track, his thoughts turned to Rana. Why had he felt that feeling when he saw Dib and Rana together? He looked up the moon, and found himself starting to think how, in a weird way, it looked sort of like her. Could it be? He thought. Could Patrick have been right all along? Could I really be in love?

Is it possible that Zim has fallen in love with Rana? What happened to Laura? How will Zim manage to get the tools, the job opening, and the union card all in one night? At least he knows where the Naranja guy is, and where the money Charlie wants him to get is supposed to be, but will it really be that easy? Probably not. Stay tuned for the next chapter, where Zim doe slots of stuff!