Author's Notes: Ohhh yeaaah. . .I should probably thank my two wonderful betareaders, Blossom and The Unsquickable Kid at some point. So. . .thanks, guys. J
Chapter 6
"Um. . . Dad?" Dib poked his head into his father's basement lab, not wanting to startle him at whatever potentially explodey experiment he was working on.
"Yes, son?" Engrossed in his study of a large beaker of purple . . . something, Professor Membrane didn't bother to turn. Dib stepped in and cleared his throat. How the heck was he going to explain this?
"Um. . . You know how you told me once that. . . if I ever had any problems. . . anything I really needed to talk about. . . if I needed any help. . . you'd, well, help."
"I believe that was given with the proviso that I have time to help, son," said the Professor, "and I'm a little busy right now." Without turning, he made a little shoo-ing motion with his hand at Dib.
"But, Dad, this is really important! . . . You know that green kid in my class? Well he . . . he and me . . . he's. . ." Damn. This wasn't going to be easy. Every time Dib said the word 'alien' in front of his father anymore, he merely shook his head, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'my poor insane son,' and resolutely ignored every subsequent word that came out of his mouth.
"Son, I would really like to help, but this is an extremely delicate operation and I can't afford to be distracted. Isn't there anyone else you can talk to about it?"
"No! It's really . . . complicated, and it's not the kind of thing I really want anyone to know."
"Now son, being homosexual is nothing to be ashamed of."
"What? No! I'm not . . . well, um. . . I don't think I am . . . but that's not what I need to talk to you about!"
"Then can't it wait, son? I just got a fifteen-minute cancellation for next week, and I think I could fit you in, if you don't mind sharing the timeslot with the Mr. Surgeon General."
Dib's brow knit in frustration. "Look. Dad. I. . . I think I might be a dad soon. There was . . . something. Someone might be pregnant. And it might be mine."
Professor Membrane stopped. He placed down the liquid he'd been measuring out and turned.
"Oh, son. This is very serious."
"I know! That's why I needed to talk to you. And I need you to come upstairs and make sure. . . I'm - we're not sure yet."
"I see."
Dib had never seen his father look quite so concerned as he did at that moment, even more so than the time he'd been briefly committed to an insane asylum. If only he could get him up to see Zim - then he'd have to believe him. While Dib and his father had been talking, the neglected beaker had begun to violently bubble and hiss. Professor Membrane turned back in time for it to spew a great cloud of yellow gas into the air. Pressing a large red button on the side of the counter, the Professor threw the beaker into an opening that appeared on the wall. He grabbed his son and dove behind a countertop on the other side of the room.
There was a tremendous explosion that took out most of the opposite wall, sending flames and debris hurtling towards them.
When the flames died down, Professor Membrane stood up and casually dusted himself off. Dib struggled to his feet and hobbled to the doorway.
"So . . .it looks like you're done here, Dad. Will you pleeease help me now?"
The Professor sighed. "I guess so, son."
*******
Zim felt a breeze. He was being undressed. Too weak to care, or even open his eyes, he submitted peacefully. Once bare he felt very cold, and proceeded to shiver until he felt the warm weight of several blankets cover him once again. He wondered vaguely where he was. The blankets were soft and clean. The air smelled of alcohol and - strangely - nitroglycerine....
There were footsteps nearby, and he seemed to be laying on several pillows, supporting his body so that he could lie facing upward without being bothered by his pak.
His head was lifted and another pillow deposited under it, and fluffed. Ah. No beings in the universe were so kind as the gentle mechanoids of Hospitalia. His tallest must have somehow sensed their most valuable soldier's unease, and sent for help. With a little effort, he opened his mouth to speak.
"Extremely. . . Cold. Unable to. . . to function at normal energy level. And my queb-glort hurts like a VERY. . . PAINFUL. . . THING." An odd burbling sound issued from the being at his side. He heard a soft whirr as what he assumed must be a diagnostic tool was passed over his head. His pak now just fully functional, his translator was re-enabled.
". . .speaking in his native tongue. How fascinating."
"See, Dad. I told you he was an alien."
Zim opened his eyes.
He was lying on one of two stretcher-beds in what appeared to be a small infirmary room. Dib was skulking near the door and, standing beside the bed, Professor Membrane passed his scanner slowly over Zim's belly. Zim shrieked and snatched the scanner. He hurled it at the wall with enough force to smash it into tiny, unrecognisable bits. Terror giving him new strength, Zim rose up on his spider legs and made a dash for the nearest exit. Dib stepped in his way, sharp spatula raised menacingly.
"Zim, wait. You can't go."
The Professor approaching from his other side, Zim found himself backed into a corner. Breathing heavily, he drew the comm. link from his pak.
"Gir. Mission aborted. Lock into my co-ordinates. Send the last destructo-bomb. Demolish the base and self-destruct. Zim out." An device materialized around Zim's right forearm. It had a lone red button and the words 'self destruct' in bold lettering.
"You think you've won, Dib, but we'll see who's laughing when the Armada comes to destroy this PITIFUL rock of yours." In an elaborate gesture designed to increase doomey anticipation, Zim drew his finger back in preparation to press the red button.
"Zim wait! We're trying to help you! You haven't been caught - I mean you have - but it's just me and my Dad. You know Dad, right?"
Professor Membrane lifted his hands placatingly. "We're not going to turn you over to the authorities."
Still panting, Zim halted his deadly finger descent. "Where am I?"
"This is our infirmary - Dad's infirmary, for lab accidents. In the basement of our house."
Zim seemed to consider this for a moment, looking back and forth between father and son. Dib attempted his best look of sincerity and concern, although he didn't succeed as well as the Professor, who could be the epitome of sincere and concerned when he wanted to be.
"And. . . why is it you say you want to help?" Not at all convinced, Zim nonetheless began to look very tired - his antennae drooped and his arms began to fall slowly towards his sides.
"Because - you might be pregnant." Dib gestured to Zim's belly, which was, like the rest of him, uncovered. "And if you are, then it's mine too."
Zim passed his hand thought the air, dismissing the suggestion offhand. The effort seemed to have winded him, though. He took a long, shallow breath before he continued. "Pregnant? That's. . .that's-" Zim managed to get out before he passed out cold again and crumpled unceremoniously to the floor.
* * * * * * * * * *
When Zim awoke, he found Dib urgently securing the last of his limbs to the edge of the bed with leather cuffs. This time he didn't even have the energy to thrash - it was all he could do to keep his eyes open and speak.
"You'll pay. You'll all pay. You'll soon meet the wrath of Zim and wish you'd never fallen out of your mothers' stinking flesh hole."
The Professor leaned over to feel the pulse at Zim's neck. "Please, don't excite yourself. I assure you that you're in no danger - surely you understand that, like all life forms, we're concerned about the passing of our genetic material onto a new generation." It took awhile for Zim to figure out properly what the Professor had meant by that comment, but once he did he shook his head groggily.
"This is PREPOSTEROUS. I am an Irken soldier. How could I possibly be pregnant?"
"Well, unless you race reproduces very differently from humans, it must either have been artificial insemination or intercourse culminating in ejaculation - and from what my son tells me -"
Zim looked over to Dib, horrified. "You inseminated me? Artificially?"
The Professor, too, turned to Dib, his hands on his hips in his typical 'What have you done now, my poor insane little boy?' pose. "Son, artificial insemination is not something that should be toyed with. I'm especially disappointed that you would go about such a thing without the second party's knowledge-"
"-No, Dad, it wasn't - I didn't - artificially - we - I mean. . .it was the second one. And what are you talking about, Zim? You were there."
"I remember the first part, but nothing of this. . .ejacu-whatsit."
Dib began rubbing the spot between his forehead where a headache was slowly forming. "That was when - at the end, when. . ."
Professor Membrane pulled down a helpful animated screen-chart and switched it to the magical journey of the humanoid reproductive juices. Zim watched the illustrated process and shuddered.
"Our kind has had no need to reproduce in such a. . . barbaric manner for thousands of years. Through skillful application of bio-engineering and mechanical enhancement, we've evolved and can now propagate ourselves in tubes. All organs previously used for reproductive purposes have been rendered vestigial."
Professor Membrane bent over Zim with his scanner.
"Well, vestigial or not, young. . .er. . .man, it seems you have both an organ for producing sperm and an organ for producing eggs." The scanner, being made to examine human physiology, took a little longer to translate its findings into understandable information. The Professor waited patiently until he finally got a result he could understand before continuing. He seemed somewhat surprised.
"Human females are born with a certain number of eggs that are released one by one over the course of their lifetimes. It appears that it in your case, although you have already been furnished with at least a million eggs, they've all been stored in the same place. A million eggs! All in one place!"
Zim stared blankly. "So I've got a million eggs."
"And you had. . .relations. . .with my son."
"So Dib's theory was correct, and one of them's been fertilized. Fantastic. That's just -"
"-You don't understand. More than one of your eggs has been fertilized."
"But we only did it once! Unless you -" Zim fixed Dib with a disgusted stare "-while I was passed out? You sick little. . ."
The Professor turned hastily to enter the scanner's findings into one of his analysis consoles. "You STILL don't seem to grasp the severity of your condition. You were storing more than a million eggs. Human males can release several million sperm at a time."
Zim stared some more. The Professor punched one last key and the medi-screen flashed to life, showing a visual representation of the findings of the scan. Nestled in the stomach of the translucent Zim on the screen was a glowing mass of eggs, now fertilized and quickly turning into embryos as their cells divided at a frantically growing pace. At least a million strong.
"You are not only pregnant. You are probably the most pregnant person on the face of this planet, and possibly - in the entire universe!"