Author's Note: I have no excuse for the hideous lateness of this chapter. . .I beg for general forgiveness and mercy.

Also, to the anonymous reviewer who wanted a list of the smeet's names and their eye colour – their names will be listed in the next chapter. If you want them sooner, I would be very happy to send them to you by email, you'll just have to review again and leave your email addy, or contact me directly. I'm tickled pink that you like my story so much that you would draw a picture! :)

Chapter 5

Zim lifted his sore feet to rest on the computer console while he tallied the daily inventory damage and made an attaching supply requisition. Among the usual list of destruction, his spawn had also managed to break one of the main food conservation units on the storage level. It was amazing what they could do with only a few common spoons as makeshift tools. Zim hoped they could go the rest of the month without breaking any other major appliances, or they really wouldn't have enough to pay for a replacement.

Which reminded him – the 147th Inter-Galactic Bank of G'Toth was on the verge of another civil war over mortgage rates, which meant that there would probably be a 148th Inter-Galactic Bank of G'Toth within the next few days. These banking wars never lasted very long anymore – the laws of financial warfare had long since been honed to perfection by the many megalossal organizations in the known galaxy which made use of them. All it meant was that Zim would have to pull his operation out for about a week or risk being discovered by the post-war audits. And invest in a few thousand plots on one of the G'Tothan cemetery planets – there would be a dramatic rise in price soon, no doubt.

Supply requisition sent, Zim tossed the com-pad away, folded his arms, and rested his head back. He would deal with the G'Tothans later – right now he was just tired.

A mountain of dirty laundry encumbering his view, Keef stumbled in. He dumped the laundry into the clothing processor, waited for it to spew out new, cleaner laundry, and then sat down beside Zim to begin the arduous folding process.

"Keef?" Asked Zim, his arms still folded and his eyes closed.

"Yes, Zim?" Replied Keef, occupied with one of the smeets' cute little combat training smocks.

"I've been thinking about what your mother was blathering on about at supper. . ." Zim hiked up his dress a bit to scratch his thigh. "Tell me what you know about this whole. . .girlfriend/boyfriend business."

"Well. . ." Began Keef. If Zim had been watching he might have noticed a certain redness about Keef's cheeks. "It's. . .it's about boys and girls getting together and being. . .friends. Sort of, well, hanging around together – spending time together, and, um, dating, I guess. .."

Zim opened one eye. "Dating. . .that's the whole horrible process involving dinner and stink-movies and sex?"

Keef blushed even more. "Well, yeah. . .I guess so. I've never. . .I've never actually been on a date myself."

Zim snorted. "They're hideous, take my word for it. So. . .you mother led me to believe that this sort of thing is the. . .normal process of human development. That not-dating, that not having an opposite-gender friend is regarded as sort of. . .weird. Is this true? How much filthy dating is required?"

Keef put down the piece of laundry he had in his hand and gave the subject a bit of thought. "Well. . .some dating, I guess. Not required, maybe, but sort of, expected. I guess it's a little bit weird to not have a boyfriend or girlfriend, ever."

Zim sighed. "Ugh – so I guess that settles it. I'll have to dig up a suitable male to be my friend-boy."

Keef frowned. "Well, you don't have to date. I don't think you do, anyways. It might be sort of weird not to, but who cares what's normal, anyways?"

Zim uncrosses his arms and glared at Keef. "I care."

Keef frowned into his lap, trying to build up the courage to speak. "Well – well I don't!" He said finally. "You don't need a boyfriend if you don't want one. All it would do is take you away to spend time with. . .someone else. I know I'm not gonna get a girlfriend because I. . .don't really think I need one. You're my friend – you're my best friend. And I. . .I don't. . .think I need anyone else." Keef fiddled with the piece of clothing in his hands.

"Eh?" Said Zim, who hadn't really been listening. Keef frowned again, shrugged and continued folding. Zim continued his contemplation of the monitors on the wall opposite.

A red light and an alarm went off on one of the panels – the viewscreens switched to monitor 4b. Smeet #12 – Ket – was awake and sneaking out of bed into the kitchen area.

"Oh no you don't, you little. . ." muttered Zim as he pressed the appropriate buttons on his console.

An automated monitor-bot shot the errant smeet with a dart full of sedatives – it fell over in its tracks and was unceremoniously tucked back into bed by one of the mechanical arms stationed on the ceiling.

Checking the other viewscreens for anomalies and computer malfunctions (the 'Ket incident' could have been simply a distraction from a major smeet coo), Zim put another security upgrade onto his agenda for tomorrow. The smeets seemed to learn something new every time they staged one of these minor rebellions – it was important to keep the monitoring equipment up to snuff to counter their insidious wiles. Especially since a handful of the smeets never actually went through the natural cycle of human sleep – they'd inherited enough Irken genes to be able to rely completely on their paks for energy. Zim just didn't have the energy himself to tend the little parasites for too long at a time and dosed those particular smeets with sedatives so that he could enjoy a little rest when he needed it. But the sedatives were started to become less and less effective as the smeets got closer to adolescence. . .

Sighing, Zim tossed away his daily routine scheduler and sat back down.

"So. . .continuing the subject from before. . ." Zim rubbed his chin. "I won't rest until the world is convinced that I'm a normal human. There is no sacrifice too big for the great ZIM to make for his mission, and if that includes having a friend-boy then THAT is the sacrifice that will be MADE." Zim jabbed his finger in Keef's direction. "And I won't have any 'weird persons' in my entourage, either, so I suggest that you start dating too. Wait – make that an ORDER."

"No. I won't. I'll never date. I just won't." Keef said very softly, looking down into the laundry. In all the years of their acquaintanceship, Keef had never disgreed with Zim. Ever. But Zim realized it didn't matter much. Keef was a consummate doormat – sooner or later he'd get him to do whatever he wanted.

"Hmmph. We'll see." Zim said simply.

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Later still that night, Zim lay in his own room, in bed, looking over at one of the screens hung on the wall that monitored the room downstairs where the smeets slept.

Nen was having a nightmare. He'd started tossing and turning only a few moments ago, mewling softly in his sleep. Zim felt a tremendous urge to. . .do something, though he had no idea what that might be. Just as Zim was about to reach over and buzz Keef, he arrived on the scene to gently wake Nen up. Crying, Nen latched onto Keef and they sat holding to each other for a minute or two before Keef tucked Nen back into bed. Folding Nen's hand in his own, Keef stayed to sit with him until he went back to sleep.

Keef was sleeping in a small cot at the end of the smeet's room tonight – it was his turn on nightmare duty. He and Zim switched off every night, to give Zim time to make night repairs and plan for the next day's syllabus. Most nights at least one of the smeets had a nightmare, though there were only a few, like Nen, who had them more than once a week. It frustrated Zim not to be able to do anything about it – both not to be able to prevent them, or be there when they happened. It was also frustrating to know that regulation required him to do nothing – as long as they were healthy and mentally stable, the emotional state of trainees wasn't even a consideration, according to the Irken edu-plug procedural manual. As their educational overseer, Zim's precious attention could be better spent elsewhere. On this particular night, he certainly didn't have the energy to deal with anything more strenuous than watching them from his monitor screen.

Ever since the smeets' birth, Zim's pak was no longer able to regulate his energy levels for extended periods. As a result, he suffered intermittent states of energy-dropout, when he was virtually comatose for a few hours at a time. Zim had made what repairs he could on his own, but he was missing key components and tools that were only kept on Irk, and he would have to make the long journey back to his home planet in order to get them – a journey he didn't the time or the resources to make.

Since the 'cold-sleep,' as he called it, only happened once or twice a week, and could usually be coordinated with human sleeping hours, Zim decided it was a livable condition. On a planet where the entire population spent a third of their lives in an unconscious state, Zim figured it wouldn't be too much of a disadvantage have to 'sleep' for about ten hours a week.

Zim looked up to the ceiling and tried to concentrate his attention away from Nen, who would do just fine in Keef's care, and to a few new distressing matters which had arisen earlier today.

Keef had brought up a surprisingly good point for someone so apparently brain-dead. Zim simply didn't have time to maintain any sort of friendship, with a boy or otherwise. Even Keef's time had become precious to him – Zim relied on Keef to help him tend the smeets, and couldn't afford to have him wandering off with some. . .horrible. . .girl.

And even if they weren't subject to such stringent time constraints, Zim couldn't think of anyone at all who would be suitable to spend their precious time with. Such a relationship would create too much risk of uncovering the secret of the smeet's alien genes. Someone who already knew would be preferable, but that made for a short list – the Dibsister, Gaz, Professor Membrane, and the stupidhorriblefilthy stink-Dib himself.

Zim shuddered.

Zim had never imagined that it would be so good to see the Dib-filth again. To be able to spar again with his nemesis. . .for a few moments he almost felt like his old self again. His old self.

It had been like stepping into a former life – back in a time before all this whole frantic mess of broken appliances, emotional outburst, piles and piles of schedule pads and lists and rotation trackers. . .and let's not forget the dirty diapers of only five years ago – oh the filth and horror!!

It was good, for one moment, to be ZIM again, soldier of the Irken empire, sent on a mission to invade and conquer the horrible ball of dirt known as the earth. Dib had reminded him of that – for a moment.

Then he'd gone and. . .kissed him.

Zim had never been so scared. This was no honest attack, no military maneuver that he could counter, not even one of those half-clever verbal jibes that the Dib-stink was so fond of. This was. . .something else.

To Zim, first and foremost, it had been a reminder of the last time Dib had used such a procedure against him. It had been the act that had precipitated the battle that Zim now waged day and night.

Zim had in the long course of his lifetime become accustomed to battles involving blaster cannons, battle-mechs, high-speed fighter vehicles, complicated maneuvering that amounted to one thing; self on mission versus enemy.

This. . .parenting business wasn't sitting well with Zim at all. It disturbed him, on a fundamental level.

The smeets were his mission – their well-being was the objective. The enemy that was the obstacle to this objective. . .was too large and confusing to comprehend. The humans were of course part of the enemy – that had always been clear. They loomed everywhere, and since his children had no other basis for comparison, it was sometimes difficult to prove to the smeets how horrible they actually were. But only sometimes.

The enemy also consisted of scraped knees, nightmares, bruised feelings when they fought among themselves, anger, sadness, fear, loneliness, and the countless hoards of hurt that Zim couldn't always shield them from.

Confusing too was the fact that his battle was their battle – the battle to grow and progress into strong, capable soldiers, able to help him conquer Earth. Zim could scream and prod and toss out reprimands all he liked, but ultimately he couldn't just force them to be what he wanted them to be. Most of the physical injury they brought upon themselves through sheer foolishness and childish rebellion – the smeets themselves sometimes became their own enemy. And sometimes when he prodded too far, with just a look they could make him believe that maybe he was the enemy.

And the one thing that had been clear since his first day on this pitiful rock – Dib was the enemy. His presence here made itself felt in a myriad of ways, as tangible as the extra finger on some of his childrens' hands, as subtle as a glance, or more likely a glare, or an inflection that would bring that horrible Dib-filth back, staring at him through the eyes of his children. The smeets were like Zim in many ways, but sometimes just the simplest act, some small behavior, disturbed him to his core. It was as thought Dib were there, taunting him. His precocious, rambunctious, parasitic, infuriating, perfect children.

Zim didn't want Dib to be around to influence them. He had never asked for Dib's help, and his pride would certainly never allow it. But to know that he was out there, living carefree, while he was here burning away what felt like his entire life's energy. . .and that after everything Dib could still lay claim to those children and call them his.

. . .It wasn't fair. Something was wrong. Dib had played some horrible trick on him.

Beyond the fact that they'd both participated, that kiss a long time ago had been one of the first moves in a war that Zim was losing.

Zim rubbed one eyeball grumpily and reached over to the portable communicator panel on the bedside table.

"Greetings!"

"Hello? Dibsire?"

"You've reached the voicemail for the incredible PROFESSOR MEMBRANE. If you're calling to report a national emergency that can only be solved through SCIENCE, press 1. If you're calling to report an international emergency that can only be solved through SCIENCE, press 2. . ."

Zim pursed his lips and waited through the various options. . .imminent plague outbreak, natural disasters avalanche through volcanic eruptions, TOAST shortage, backache, bellyache, sore toe, the 'direct line' reserved for his children that Zim happened to know connected to another voice recorder (which would be checked every week, GUARANTEED). Finally there was a series of sharp beeps, and the click of a recording machine.

"Dibsire! DIBSIRE!! There is no use hiding from ZIM!! Do you think to SLEEP while I'm in need of ADVICE?!? I won't allow it!! Pickupthephone!!!! PICKITUP!!!! You WILL comply with ZIM!!. . ."

The com screen announced an incoming transmission, soon replacing the answering service picture of Professor Membrane in his famous 'thumbs-up to SCIENCE' pose with an active feed of Professor Membrane in his lab, busily pouring phosphorescent chemicals from beaker to beaker.

"Ah, the mother of my grandchildren! Is there any emergency with our little co-genetic sample?"

"Of course it's an emergency!! It's an emergency concerning their future safety!" Zim announced, pounding his fist on the blankets in emphasizement. "I. . .have a question!" Zim fidgeted a little now that he'd made the announcement. "Do I. . .still have the capacity to bear offspring?" He asked rather timidly.

"To bear offspring? Ha ha! Certainly not! The strain of it would be the MESSY END of you! And besides, you used up all of your eggs during the last. . .incident. Of which we will NEVER speak again." The Professor shuddered at the memory.

"I see. So there's no fear of what happened last time if I, say, need to have sex again?"

"Absolutely none."

Zim nodded. "Excellent. In that case, I have another question. I've got a few hours to spare next Tuesday – if you're free I was thinking that we might get together for dinner, a movie, and a little sex."

The Professor stared at him for a moment, then coughed. "Even though my hearing is reinforced beyond normal human capacity by technology of my own design, I'm going to have to ask you to repeat that because it seems my higher brain process has refused to accept what you just said."

Zim sighed. "I was proposing a date. You, me, some earth slop, big-screen brain-rot, and a round of horizontal wigglies." Zim demonstrated with a few explicit hand gestures. "Tuesday. Acceptable?"

Professor Membrane stared at him for a few minutes more. Neither Zim nor the rest of the planet's current inhabitants were aware that one of the greatest scientific minds to ever grace the earth's crust was now in the midst of a terrible battle to keep itself from imploding.

Zim folded his arms. "It has been brought to my attention that it's about time I was dating again, and despite your hideous inadequacies you seem to be the most convenient option."

The Professor finally shook himself out of his stupor. "I. . .see." He answered. "Well, not that I'm not flattered, and also HORRIFIED, by your offer, but I'm afraid that the entirety of my being, from my grey matter to my pink-ish-coloured flesh, is devoted to LADY SCIENCE. And I must say that I've NEVER BEEN so glad for it."

"Well, that's quite a shame. So, I don't suppose you know whether or not your daughter would be amenable to any such activities with Keef, would you?"

"I'm almost certain that that particular avenue of genetic propagation will remain closed – in short, I'm quite sure her answer would be NO."

Zim pursed his lips. "Well, Dibsire, thank you for a slightly informative, but mostly useless conversation. I'll just. . .be going now."

"You're welcome. I too, must take leave of this encounter, so that I may wipe all traces of its memory from my brain cells lest I go INSANE."

Zim nodded. "Zim out."

Tossing away the communicator panel, Zim resumed his earlier brooding.

The most obvious answer now to both his own and Keef's lack-of-dating-ness was simply to date each other. This, however, would still require some sort of sneaky plan, considering Keef's odd determination not to date anyone, and Zim thought that he might at least try his other available option first.

There was also the matter of Dib. Zim had the suspicion that he wouldn't say no to another round of horizontal wigglies, but for reasons unknown (and unquestioned – Zim wasn't in the habit of examining his own motives) the idea was rather distasteful to him. Besides, that would mean giving his enemy something that he wanted, and that just wouldn't do. Zim even found some pleasure in this small reaffirmation of their rivalry.

So – sneaky plan it was. Very do-able. Zim could think up a sneaky plan in his sleep. Which was a good thing because only a minute or two after ending his conversation with Professor Membrane, Zim felt his temperature drop and slipped rudely into unconsciousness.