Authors Note:

Hello there!

I'd just like to take this time to thank you for reading this pile of non-sequential words and phrases that I call a story.

I've decided to start a little contest. I've placed a reference inside Chapter 6 (Yes, it's written already) to a book I just finished reading, and if you can find it and what book it's referring too, I'll put you in the story as a supporting character! Just tell me your character's name and gender along with your answer for the mystery reference, and you're in! ^_^

If you can't find the Easter Egg but want to be in the story anyway, just give me your character's name and gender, and you'll be placed in a magic hat to be pulled out when there's an opening.

            And please, Read and Review! I need reviews! Please!

Even if you don't like it, let me know. After all, I can't improve anything if I don't know what's wrong. ^_^

So, I'll stop blabbing now and let you read the story, since that's probably what you came here to do.

Unless you just like Author Notes…

This is a long one at nearly 2000 words, so grab a soda and hunker down. ^_^

Anyway, on with the show!

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Chapter 5: Pieces

            Black boots slammed down, one after the other, in a mad dash through one of a million identical corridors on the Massive. Arriving at their destination, the boots squealed to a halt, leaving the Irken standing outside an open doorway that looked into the security center, where the Massive's Chief of Security was reading last months issue of Irk Today, his feet resting on a command consol.

            "Farle! Farle, they're fighting again!"

            Farle turned his head slowly, appraising the Irken standing in the doorway. He casually flipped a page.

            "Yeah? So?"

            The messenger appeared exasperated.

            "So? So they're going to kill each other! Get a security squad down there to break them up! We don't have much time!"

            Farle sighed.

            "They're both wearing almost a foot of solid Terchon power armor. What are they possibly going to do to each other? They'll punch themselves out in a couple of days."

            The news bearer grew increasingly exasperated, her voice reaching what resembled a shriek.

            "SO YOU'RE JUST GOING TO SIT THERE!?"

            Farle turned back to his reading.

            "Look, the second we burst in there, Red's going to order us to kill Purple. That will give Purple the same idea, and he'll tell us to kill Red. Since they're both the exact same height and both of the exact same power, we won't be able follow either of their commands. So we'll just stand around, stupid looks splattered on our faces until the Tallest forget all about killing each other and start killing us for incompetence."

            The female Irken charged out of the room and down the hall. If Farle wasn't going to help her, She'd just have to break them up herself.

            Farle lazily turned a page, revealing another article on how to please the Tallest.

            "Your funeral."

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            Jarka walked down the hallway towards the twin sliding doors of the cafeteria. He had a few minutes before they reached their target, and experience told him you should never face a potentially dangerous situation on an empty stomach. The doors slid apart, creating a mechanical "whoosh" that, for some reason, Jarka found remarkably soothing. The general murmur of the cafeteria died as he entered the room. Irkens stood and began to salute. Jarka gave them all a small smile and returned the salute.

            Jarka stepped into the buffet line, which instantly disintegrated to form two lines of Irkens on either side of him. He had tried for months to stop this, but they continued the practice, either out of habit or out of fear. Eventually, Jarka stopped trying. He would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy being first in line. Jarka grabbed his tray, filled with the usual dinner, Fried Slarterbus Legs, an energy bar, and a can of Slurge Cola.

            Jarka loved Slarterbus Legs.

            Jarka sat down at an empty table. He could have picked a livelier one, but there really wasn't much point. As soon as he sat down, it would have gone completely silent.

It wasn't that the crew didn't like him. In fact, Jarka was one of the best captain's most of them had ever had. But he was still the captain, and there were certain things you just didn't talk about in front of your captain. It was just part of the rules.

            "Where you been, good buddy? Pulling our asses out of the fire again?"

            Of course, not everyone is going to obey the rules.

            Jarka looked up and smiled as Lid slid into the seat across from him.

            "Maybe you'd know if you ever got off yours."

            Lid threw his hands up defensively as the general murmur of the cafeteria returned.

            "Hey, You've got your job, I've got mine."      

            Jarka lifted a large leg off his tray.

            "Slarterbus?"

            "No, I'm good. I had first shift today."

            Jarka shrugged and began moving the leg into his mouth.

            "Your loss."

            "Hey, I know, I know. You still on for Slantra next week?"

            "Like taking sugar from a smeet."

            "Believe me, they know. I had to threaten janitorial duty just to round up a team to play you."

            Jarka smiled. He was the worst Slantra player on this side of the galaxy. Maybe both. A small light started blinking on the side of Lid's Pak. A mechanical arm slid out and brought a small monitor up to the Computer Specialist's face. Lid studied it for several seconds before the arm slid back into his Pak.

            "Damn. Some idiot blew a transistor on the navi-com. Guess I'll have to leave you to your succulent feast." Lid began to stand up, but was stopped by a gesture from his friend.

            "Forget it. I'll have someone else deal with it. I need you right here."

            Lid slid back down, his interest piqued.

            "For what?"

            Jarka dropped another bone onto his plate as he popped open the Slurge.

            "Top Secret. I'll brief you on the bridge."

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            Dib lay spread-eagle on a metallic table, his wrists and ankles bound by thick metal bands. A large, nasty looking weapon suspended by innumerable cords and cables hung above him, emitting a small laser beam onto the foot of the table. It was moving slowly upwards towards Dib's more sensitive areas, leaving a clean cut in the steal behind it. Zim stood next to him, stroking GIR, who lay peaceably in Zim's arms, tongue lolling out of his green doggy costume. The Manslayer stood silently behind the two of them.

            "You'll never get away with this, Zim!"

            Zim began to shake his head.

            "Poor, pathetic human. I already have. If mankind's greatest hero was unable to stop my invention operating on only a small fraction of its true power, what chance does the rest of humanity have?"

            Dib was about to say something, when Zim cut him off.

            "I have no time for this. We must prepare for the subjugation of Earth. Come, Manslayer. Let us leave Dib alone and unguarded, awaiting his unnecessarily slow doom as we strategize!" 

            Zim marched off into the darker recesses of the lab. The Manslayer looked at Zim, then at Dib, then back at Zim. It looked like it was about to say something, but apparently thought better of it, and followed Zim into the darkness.

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            Jarka stood next to the captain's chair, his best friend beside him. Various Irkens manned the control stations around them, oblivious to the pair.

            "So, that's the plan. Any questions?"

            "Is that all we know?"

            "The Tallest were very reluctant to reveal any information concerning Project Darkness Flame. I was lucky to get what I did."

            Lid frowned. He would have liked a better understanding of the technology he'd be dealing with. He would have to blunder his way around the systems by trial and error, and on a weapons platform that could have dangerous consequences.

            "We need you on this, Lid."

            Jarka was right. If anyone onboard could do it, it would be him. He looked his lifelong friend in the eye.

            "Alright, Jarka. I'll try."

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            The door to the Tallest's sitting room slid open, revealing an interior that looked as though it had been beaten, robbed, strangled, shot, and then beaten again. Furniture was snapped in two, glass and broken end tables scattered the floor, holes had been punched in the wall, the view screen on the far wall was shattered, and in the center of it all, there lay a single knife with a shattered blade.

            "Say It!"

            The sound was coming from somewhere to the right.

            "Gragh… NO!"

            There followed an unholy shriek accompanied with a sickening crunch.

            The Irken charged into the room, glass crunching under her feet. She whirled to the right in time to see Purple shoved on top of a table, his arm behind his back. It was being actively held there by his disgruntled co-ruler.

"Say it!"

"Say… this."

Purple reached back with his left hand far enough to flip the switch on Red's hover belt, sending a surprised Red flying into the ceiling. Purple dove behind a broken couch, nursing his injured arm and grabbing a broken vase off a tipped side table. He raised it up in the air, either to fling it at Red or use it as a bludgeon.

"STOP!"

Both Tallest froze, Red in a mid-air dive-bomb and Purple with half a vase stretched over his head. Red was the first to speak. He pointed to the newcomer.

 "You!"

Red pointed at Purple.

"Attack!"

"I can't..."

"No!" Purple exclaimed. "Him! Attack him!" He pointed an accusing finger at an airborne Red.

"I can't…"

"What are you waiting for? ATTACK!" Red waved his outstretched hand.

"I can't…"

"Don't you know to obey your Tallest?" Purple stood up, lowing his weapon.

"I…"

"Yeah." Red floated down. "I think she's a spy."

"What? I…"

"We'll have to teach her a lesson." Purple moved closer, looming over the distressed Irken negotiator.

"I think someone's got a date with the torpedo tubes." Red moved to stand next to his friend, both of them towering over their subordinate, who was now shaking very badly, with huge grins on their faces.

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            Dib watched as the laser closed to within a good three inches of his groin. He had managed to grab a quarter from under his trench coat sleeve. It had taken a lot of work, his wrists were raw and bleeding, but he had done it. Now all he had to do was fling the quarter into the path of the laser beam at such an angle that it would divert the laser and cut one of his bonds. This was important because there was a much larger chance that the laser would divert from its course and shoot him in the eye. Dib took a deep breath, slid the quarter down his thumb, and flung it into the air.

            He watched in slow motion as the coin twisted through the air towards the laser. It arced upwards towards its goal, and at the climax of its accent, struck the beam head on. Dib had barley enough time to smile at success before the laser, unwavering, sliced the quarter in two. Dib glared town at the two smoking, even cut halves that had fallen beside his bed. Damn it. That always worked in the movies.

            Footsteps echoing down the hall caught Dibs attention as he twisted his head to see Zim and his Manslayer returning. GIR had evidently run off towards grander things. Well, so much for Plan A. Judging by the speed of the laser, he'd have another ten minutes to think up Plan B.

            As Zim approached the human, he smiled. This was going to be perfect.

            "Well, Dib, I just thought I'd drop by to witness your final defeat. Not much else on my calendar until that whole taking over the planet, thing, after all."

            "Zim, you're never going to take over the planet. You always do something to screw it up at the last minute. Wait and see." Zim held up his hand.

            "I'm afraid it is you who shall see this time, Dib. Nothing can stop Irken Superi-"

            Zim was cut off as the laser beam flickered and died.

            "Oh, for the love of…"

            Zim's spider legs sprung out from his Pak as he crawled on top of the giant laser cutter. He poked and prodded various areas before finally giving it a good swift kick and demanding the computer tell him what was wrong with it.

            The computers voice was as slow and drawling as ever.

            "Um… The laser isn't working because… they shut it off."

            "What? What are you talking about? Who is this 'They' and how do they claim authority over ZIM?" Zim added an extra emphasis to his name.

            The computer was silent, evidently pondering which one of Zim's questions to answer first, when its reply was interrupted by a power failure.