Title: Frequency
Author: Mizander
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Invader Zim is the collective property of Jhonen Vasquez and Nickolodeon. Unfortunately, it's not mine – I'm just borrowing the characters for my own sick and twisted, but non-profit acquiring ends.

Chapter Two:

For once, Dib had thought as he taped the note explaining his whereabouts on the fridge, his father's negligence and his sister's lack of interest in anything that didn't involve jump buttons and special moves was going to come in very handy. Skool wasn't a problem either as only a week remained until the summer holidays began. Even if this had not been the case, no principal would dare to distract the great Professor Membrane from his 'REAL SCIENCE' for something as trivial as his son's absence slip. Following this train of thought, he began to wonder if anyone would even miss him or indeed, if he would even return at all.

"Well that's a bit morbid." he muttered to himself, switching the song over to one a more upbeat tune and drumming his fingers on the control panel in time to the music, attempting to relax. His mission was beginning to seem less honourable and more crazy the further away he got from home. He didn't even have a lead to go on considering the Irken leaders' plan had been pretty vague. The only person who had even been remotely close to confirming Zim's whereabouts was GIR. Not the most reliable source, but then Dib had never been one to ignore the important things like gut instinct. He'd never have lasted this long in the field of paranormal investigation if he had. So, here he was - already millions of miles away from his home planet, with a deranged robot, a couple of CD's, an old video-game handheld he'd rescued from the garbage when his sister had purchased the Gameslave 2 and the blinking red lights on his ship's console.

He had long given up on trying to read the communications screen itself, as all of the printouts were in a myriad of squiggles and lines that Dib could only assume comprised the Irken alphabet. He could steer the ship manually and certain voice commands worked in his favor - that was more than enough for now. Next to him GIR bobbed happily, sometimes coming to rest on Dib's head, sometimes sucking his thumb and mouth moving near constantly. As long as he didn't have to listen to the gibberish that spewed forth, and as long as it's automated guidance system remained in working order, Dib was more than happy to allow the SIR unit to do pretty much whatever it pleased.

At this particular moment, GIR felt like singing a song about a rubber pig that had got lodged in a tractor beam - mostly in homage to their current situation, but also because the giant flying burrito had asked him to very politely indeed.

Unable to read the ship's recurring warnings, Dib unfortunately did not realize this predicament until it was much too late. The void of stars outside turned into the cold metal walls of an airlock, and he began to panic as Tak's ship shuddered to a forced halt. The sound of metal scraping on metal permeated even through the intense volume issuing from his headset and his hands shook as he took them off, just in time to hear the cockpit mechanism hiss in protest at being forcibly opened.

The peril of his current situation notwithstanding, Dib could not help but feel a thrill of excitement as his new surroundings were revealed. Never mind Zim - long had he yearned to prove the existence of intelligent alien life, and here sitting in front of him was at least twenty different examples. The only problem was that each of them was toting an impressive set of artillery, most of which was trained on him.

"Get out of the ship you Irken scum, and keep your hands where we can see them!" A short alien with horns that put Dib in mind of a ram stepped forward, levelling a weapon that resembled a gun between Dib's eyes.

Dib breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm not Irken!" he called to them. "I'm Human!"

A few of the number took this pronouncement with an obvious show of relief and perhaps confusion over the 'human' comment, but many more regarded Dib with even greater hostility.

"Don't try to fool us." the ram-horned alien waved his gun threateningly. "That's an Irken vessel you're flying and you have a SIR unit to boot."

"Lard'Nar! Sir! WHOO!" Bobbing at the feet of the horned alien was a small purple cone. "To be fair Sir, he doesn't look like an Irken soldier. That ship isn't in any of our fleet reconnaissance either. In fact, it seems to be a highly modified Spittoon Runner. Our sources tell us that model was discontinued years ago because of a tendency to make it's occupants heads explode!"

"I don't think that SIR unit is ...uh...good...either." added a mantis-like creature as he watched GIR alternate between screaming like a maniac and sucking the corner of the ship's control panel.

Lard'Nar did not lower his gun, but he did pause to think. Despite their ridiculous name, the Resisty did have a very substantial amount of information on the Irkens. Not to mention that the creature in the ship neither acted nor looked like one of the race that were working to systematically bend the galaxy to their will. On the other hand, this was the middle of a war - and he had certainly not worked this hard and this long to be defeated by a stupid oversight.

"Very well. Shloonktapooxis, Spleenk? Take our friend here to the medical ward. Run some tests on him." He then gestured to twin robotic-esque aliens with his free hand. "You two run tests on that ship and that SIR unit. If his story checks out, I may be willing to listen. If not..." he let the threat hang in the air.

The cone-alien and a green-eyed creature approached Dib, flanked by an enormous behemoth with no less than three heads. With the tri-headed alien holding his shoulders in a vice-grip, he had no choice but to be lead away, hoping against hope that this group would listen to him once they proved he wasn't Irken. At least, he consoled his shaking nerves - he had that going for him.

The medical ward of the ship was as Dib expected it to be - filled with white and lots of clean metal, smelling of some form of disinfectant. Dib had not put up a struggle and whether it was because of this or not, his trio of captives was apparently inclined to be reasonably gentle with him.

Bubbling with energy, the cone who had introduced himself almost immediately as the one called Shloonktapooxis hopped up on the table in front of Dib. "One of the Meekroob came up with this method when they captured the invader on their planet. Whoo! What a victory for the Resisty! It's just supposed to take a picture of your organs...but they discovered that when trained on an Irken disguise, it disrupts the effects of whatever machine they use to create them."

Dib nodded, knowing full well that despite sounding friendly, Shloonkatpooxis knew that if his prisoner had indeed been an Irken, that story would have sent him into a panic. He was trying to get an idea of what to prepare himself for before real proof came.

"Anyway - it'll only take a minute, and if you're not an Irken it won't cause you any pain." Without further warning, the alien hopped onto a lever, using his weight to push it down. As he'd said, the screen in the front of the console buzzed to life, a clear picture of Dib's digestive system pulsing brightly above them.

Spleenk made a noise of disgust and turned off the screen hurridly, while Shloonktapooxis made his way over to a communicator to contact Lard'Nar.

"Sir! We did the tests and found that the prisoner is what he says...and definitely not an Irken soldier."

That was how Dib came to find himself explaining the insanity that had started since Zim had come to his home planet of Earth to a room full of aliens. Lard'Nar, whom Dib had rightfully deduced was the leader had filled in the gaps with regards to why Zim had thought he was on a mission to overtake Earth in the first place. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Dib couldn't help but be somewhat delighted. Never before had he had such an attentive and trusting audience. They even oohed and ahhed in the appropriate places.

"Alright then Dib." Lard'Nar said, breaking the collective silence that had followed the end of Dib's tale and rubbing his chin, apparently thinking hard. "I believe I can make you a deal. We will supply you with the tools needed to rescue your Irken, on the grounds that you bring it back to us as a prisoner of war. We could use information from an inside source."

Dib frowned. "Um...you want Zim, after all I've told you about..."

The leader of the Resisty smiled grimly. "You're about to give your Irken a very rude wake-up call. You'd be surprised what some people will do when their backs are against the wall."

Realizing that the shame in the alien's last words was very thinly veiled, Dib did not press the issue further but rather mentally wondered what Zim - provided he was still alive, would think about that development. Deciding not to question it for now, he simply extended his hand. "It's a deal."

While the horned alien headed into the docking bay to see to packing fresh rations and water aboard Tak's ship, Shloonkatpooxis bounded hyperactively across a control panel. Jabbing at random buttons with the point of his cone-body, he began babbling an excited explanation. "Sir Lard'Nar's people are total techies and they got us this sweet uplink hack to the Irken control brains! Somebody try to tell me that is not just THE coolest thing EVER!"

Interested, Dib wandered over. The screen sifted rapidly through a variety of readouts, each showing a different Irken, a few lines of text in the same symbols that were displayed on Tak's ship's printouts as well as a different corporate-like symbol. Slowing down, it eventually arrived on a file that showed a profile picture of an Irken who was unmistakably Zim. Although he couldn't read anything else, Shloonkatpooxis evidently could.

"This file says that this Zim would most likely be headed to Foodcourtia. That was at one time a planet in the...Quarg system I think. As you might guess, it was turned into one giant fast-food chain after the Irkens got at it."

Dib nodded and thanked the cone, then headed to the docking bay. Shloonkatpooxis hadn't been lying when he'd said that the Resisty leader was a techie - as the Vortian had greeted him not only with food and water, but a few basic improvements to the fluidity of the ship's steering and a lightweight laser based handgun to boot.

"I tried to fix your SIR unit...but...well, to be honest it's a miracle that thing works at all." Lard'Nar shook his head. "Are you sure you wouldn't want something else?"

"No." Dib said firmly. "That's Zim's SIR unit, and despite it's...hopeless stupidity, it's the best tool I have for finding him."

"Very well then Dib, Good luck, and remember our deal."

Thanking the Vortian profusely, Dib promised not to forget and was soon on his way once more.

"GIR, set a course for the planet Foodcourtia. We're going to find your master."

The robot's face lit up instantly. "TACOS!" he squealed at the top of his voice. "I like the ones with beans...they..."

Why exactly GIR liked bean filled tacos, Dib never did find out, nor did he care to. Headphones back in place, he allowed the music to lull him to sleep - as GIR navigated the speeding ship towards the planet Foodcourtia.

Munching their plentiful snacks in satisfaction and completely unaware of Dib's rescue mission, the Tallest were making the best possible use of the time it would take Zim to arrive back on Irk. Namely, plotting the most amusing way of killing him.

"...and then...and then...and then..." Red gasped, clutching his sides and trying in vain to speak through the laughter that threatened to overwhelm him. "...we stab him with the poisonous...thingy...and...we video tape his writhing!"

Purple let out a wail and fell forward, banging his fist on the table as he laughed fit to burst. "Six months? I don't think I can wait that long!"

Author's Notes:

You know, I never read these things myself when I'm reading a fic, but I now understand why so many authors deem it necessary to say thank-you to those who reviewed. Comments, criticisms, questions, concerns, love, hate – all appreciated and definitely incentive to keep going. Thanks so much! I'll try to keep this stuff generally short and at the end in the future as well.

Also - thank you pinky-pseudonym, who pointed out a mistake on my part. As it turns out, I uploaded an older copy of the first chapter of this story when I posted it, and it happened to be missing some information. If you care to read it again, I encourage you to.