Title: Frequency
Author: Mizander
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Honestly now, do I have to keep coming up with witty ways to tell you it ain't mine? Jhonen and Nickolodeon and all those other people own it.

Chapter 8:

Machines beeped in a steady rhythm as bright white lights glinted off of surgical steel. The subject lay prostrate, naked in more ways than one, as clamps and hooks kept the soft flesh peeled away from the bones, enabling the alien equipment to access organs and sinew. The consistent chirp and hum of the vital sign monitor was the only proof that the creature lying on the table was in any way still alive. A few individuals working in the field, or several brave enough to satisfy their curiosity peered as close as they were allowed in such a facility, marveling at the pulsating innards of a species that was not their own. This was the kind of experience Dib lived for, had wanted to experience his whole life - and there he was, missing it. Well, not entirely, but his version of events hadn't involved HIM being the test subject in question.

For the fifth time in as many minutes, Lard'Nar had to pause in his work. Dib was not an easy subject to work on. Although humans were physically similar to Irkens, their innards were infinitely more complex. Besides this, Dib was reacting negatively to the anesthesia, shifting in his chemical induced sleep. Fortunately for him, this quirk had been discovered early, forcing the scientists to tie him down during their operation proceedings. Lard'Nar had expected the operation to be a simpler procedure with far more complex results, but one look at all those organs and everything had needed a rework.

Unlike an Irken, whose Pak could maneuver brain signals basically through attachment to the creature's spine, the human's version had to be wired directly to a specific part of it's actual meat brain in order to achieve the desired effect. It took real surgical work to attach the connections accordingly, and still more to secure them, no matter how the human moved. After the personality download took place, even one small change to that connection could effectively render Dib nothing more than a drooling vegetable. Lard'Nar still felt proud of himself for not making a few choice commentaries on the Irken race as a whole as he made this particular pronouncement to the operation team. Attaching the connections to other systems that would get in the way such as Dib's digestive tract and heart-rate were at least, comparatively simple tasks.

When the connections had been made, and tests were done to ensure their security, the pink and white dotted Pak was set into the appropriate position on the body. This should have been the easy part, but new troubles arose almost immediately. Two small chunks of skin and muscle had been removed entirely from Dib's back so that the new appendage could attach itself firmly to the spine, as it would on an Irken. It became evident however that while an Irken had amazing regenerative powers that could heal that wound effortlessly, the human had no such abilities. The wounds remained open, no matter how long the Vortian waited.

The delicate work of reconstructing Dib's flesh around the pak attachments proved to be difficult. Now that the machine was attached, it would not move, and the Vortian spent more long hours carefully piecing synthetic replacements in like a puzzle. Irken hormones were injected into the prone subject, fortunately having the desired effect, as the wounds began to heal more quickly.

This accomplished, it would be several hours before the effects of the anesthetic would leave the human's system, and until then - the crew waited.

It was nearing five hours, when Dib's eyes finally slid open. He blinked once, twice, gave a soft groan and a second later shot bolt upright, sitting stiff and straight as a board.

"Personality Transfer Started!" snapped a cold female voice from his Pak.

Lard'Nar nodded, excitedly. This meant it was working so far. He waited until Dib's posture relaxed, and then asked tentatively, "How are you feeling?"

There was a tense moment as Dib sat there, unseeing, but suddenly the connection clicked. "I...feel GREAT!" Dib winced a bit. "Okay, my back's a bit sore, and I feel...kinda weighed down, but this is incredible!" Tentatively, he attempted to get off of the bed, but the Vortian was instantly by his side, pushing him firmly back into the mattress. "No, you need rest. You won't have to sleep any longer, but you will still need time to heal."

Reluctantly, Dib sat back down, understanding the importance of this at least. That, and his back was aching considerably. As Lard'Nar exited, Skoodge entered, choosing to ignore the Vortian's look of considerable mistrust and giving Dib a short wave. He was carrying with him a myriad of notes. These he inserted into Dib's hands, and the human was surprised to discover that they were all printed in Irken. Unlike his previous encounter on Tak's ship, however - he could read each one as though he'd spoken the language for years.

"This is incredible!" Dib was all excitement again. "I mean - I can read all of this stuff now. It's like the Matrix!" When Skoodge gave him a confused look, he shook his head. "Sorry. Earth thing, I guess." he made a mental note to keep the pop culture stuff to a minimum from now on.

"This is a list of notes I thought you could use on your mission." Skoodge explained. "From what I've been allowed to hear," and here the Irken scowled considerably, "Irken History has been downloaded into your Pak, but you'll be missing the current events and newer customs."

Dib nodded, casting his mind around briefly and finding that indeed, this information was true. He did know quite a bit about Irken History. He tried to occupy himself with reading over the notes, but began almost instantly to feel that they were almost pointless. Yes, of course he knew that Irkens were proud - whatever Skoodge had to say about Zim not being the ideal Irken, he was certainly a very good example of that. Military race, oh yes...he knew these things.

Eventually, after one final warning to read the information he'd been given and a promise to come back for Irken Military basics the next day, Skoodge left him to his readings, and allowed him to heal. Dib was steadily growing more impatient, wanting desperately to be off on his mission, wanting to put his alien technology to even better experimentation. The papers rested, untouched on at the side of his bed as he began the far more entertaining task of discovering all he knew about the Irken race. After all, he reasoned - he didn't have to sleep any more. He could read Skoodge's notes after he was finished healing.

It seemed like an eternity until Skoodge's return, but when the Irken finally arrived, Dib was more than ready to go. It was a further shock to him when he discovered that they theoretically weren't actually 'going' anywhere. He had leapt off the bed feeling terrific, rested, and ready to begin a strain of rigorous activity. Naturally he'd tried beforehand to mentally prepare himself for what difficult training would entail, and had come up with Working out, obstacle courses and drills, the various sorts of things that the human schema of "military training" included.

Instead, he was only lead a few rooms down the hall from his own, inside of which there was a desk and oddly curved stool, along with a rounded helmet that strongly resembled motorcycle protective gear. Protruding from the back of the helmet were several long extension cords, with what Dib deduced were interfacing plugs on the ends.

Skoodge motioned for him to take a seat, which he did awkwardly, eventually straddling the seat. The reason for the shape of the chair became apparent as the helmet was placed on his head, and he had just enough peripheral vision around the visor to see Skoodge picking up the cords to attach them into his new Pak. This was the last thing that Dib saw before the front of the helmet went dark, and suddenly he was no longer aboard the Resisty ship.

It was definitely living the dream of every science fiction fan. That was Dib's first thought as he took a look at his new surroundings; the cockpit of an Irken ship. He was already familiar with the controls, although they were slightly different from Tak's. Testing his versatility, he found that he could move freely within this space, as though this was reality.

The whole experience was so cool, it really WAS like being in one of the Matrix movies. He wished he could show it to Gaz. Despite her complete disinterest in everything besides video games, she'd been the closest thing to a friend he'd had. Besides that, she would understand what he was talking about. Although the Resisty soldiers were kind and sincerely appreciated his presence and input, they did lack humanity and couldn't understand him on that level. He just would never have the best of both worlds.

Dib took a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing himself to let his past go. He knew he really couldn't afford to be thinking like that anymore - he had a real mission now. He reminded himself that he was a soldier, fighting for a cause. His surroundings and situation had changed, and he couldn't afford to let that deter him.

As though sensing this change in attitude, the console before him began to hum, the navigational console blinking into life, and an electronic voice echoed around the cockpit. "Performing ID Check. Irken Dib, are you prepared to begin flight training simulation?"

Dib automatically replied "Yes.", and had only a moment to feel proud of his lack of hesitation before the simulation itself started, plunging him headlong into explanations and corresponding tests.

The first thing he discovered of the experience was that the technical understanding of how to do things correctly and accurately were easily remembered, stored in his Pak almost instantly, but it did not necessarily give him the corresponding motor ability. In other words, it was as though he was memorizing a textbook, then immediately expected to put the knowledge to work. No wonder Irkens spent so many years in their training facilities.

The second thing he discovered was that the training was, just as Skoodge had said, rigorous. Despite the fact that he knew full well he hadn't moved from his chair in the little room, when the helmet finally went dark, and was removed from his eyes, he felt as though he had run a marathon. He wanted to collapse back in the chair, but the odd backless thing wouldn't allow for it. Skoodge came back into his view and began staring deep into the interior of the helmet for a few moments.

"This says here that your piloting and firing skills are decent, but your strategic maneuvers could use a lot more work." the Irken informed him. "We'll take a quick break to eat, and come back for another session after that."

Dib wanted to protest, he must have been in there for hours on end, but he resolutely shut his mouth. At least however, Skoodge had mentioned food. "Hey, can I get some..." He paused. He'd been about to ask for water, but he was quickly finding that it had been a knee-jerk reaction. He didn't need water at all. In fact, all of that snack food was actually sounding much more appetizing now…

It had been five whole sessions before Skoodge had approved of his tactical decision making skills, and Dib was thankful that his high-scores had met with the Irken's approval, as he was feeling considerably drained. It wasn't over, however - a new simulation - ground tactics this time was plugged in right after, and he found himself contending with a whole new ream of information. Fortunately for him, this particular session was easier to cope with mentally, as it tended to feature military practices he was far more familiar with.

This procedure - train and break went on so long that Dib began to lose all sense of time - it was always the same. Train until whenever the end of the program was, then wait while Skoodge analyzed things, then just enough time for him to feel rested until a new regime was started. What made the whole experience daunting and almost surreal wasn't the alien nature of the equipment or the information, or even the Pak and physiological changes to his body - it was simply the knowledge that he wasn't even experiencing a half of what a real Irken was expected to go through.

When Skoodge finally announced that the simulation he'd just undertaken had been the last, Dib felt almost impossibly relieved. There were still so many things that didn't involve his training that he needed to wrap his head around. He hadn't slept in days, but then - he didn't need to. He hadn't a clue how many days, weeks or maybe even months had passed since he first began his training, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know either. And then, there was the fact that he hadn't thought about Zim in days. All of these things hit Dib like a ton of bricks, but he wasn't given time to think about them just yet. A more important and pressing matter was at hand, namely - his disguise.

Despite the Pak and the changes to his biology which were rapidly becoming more numerous and apparent, he still very much considered himself human. Nevertheless, this was the part of the whole mission that he had been waiting for. There was a certain thrill to not only the undercover aspect, but - for the first time in his life, he would be acceptable in a society. Just like everyone else. He wasn't sure if that was really something to get excited about, but on top of everything else, it really was the least of his concerns.

The disguise did indeed turn out to be the easiest part of the transformation, as Dib was outfitted with a small metal electronic device that attached to his head. After a few moments, he remembered where he had last seen it - on Tak when she had been out of her human disguise. At least he knew what that was now. Lard'Nar bent close to Dib, making changes to the controls, then handed Dib a set of standard Irken clothing, exactly the same as Zim's and Skoodge's and the other Irkens he'd seen on the bridge of the Massive.

After changing into them, Dib came back to look in the mirror provided - there he stood, skinny kid with messy black hair, and that strange looking backpack, alien device attached to his forehead and wearing the Irken uniform. It was a little disappointing, as he really just looked as though he'd raided Zim's closet. As he was thinking this, Lard'Nar came up beside him and switched the disguise device on. The image in the mirror blurred momentarily, as though it was a bad television reception, and suddenly a different creature entirely stood in Dib's place.

Green skin, smooth (and slightly smaller) bald head with long thin antennae protruding from the scalp, large oval purple eyes, and razor sharp teeth. Dib looked down at his hands - they now only had three fingers, and they ended in pointed claws, not round fingertips.

Dib looked around at the rest of the Resisty. Skoodge was shaking his head, almost disbelievingly, but there was a bit of a smile on his face. "What...do I do now?"

"Now," began Lard'Nar. "Your mission truly begins."


Author's Notes:

Yep, that took forever. I have no excuse except Real Life. Next time: well…I think the last line of this chapter explains what next time is about.