A/N: I wrote a new chapter which I'm putting up because I'm going away for a few days, and I guess this will be an on-going story. Someone come review. I like reviews. They make me giggle in the pants.

Do you really think I would claim rights to Invader Zim? Because now that you mention it, I do. Jhonen Vasquez doesn't exist! I'm the real genius here! Now sue! Get me banned and sue your little hearts out! Mwahaha!

Okay, seriously, don't.

"Zim?" Fer's antennae pricked up at the mention of the name, looking away from his work on the control panel of a new Voot runner. The two mechanics whose conversation he intruded on looked over at him.

"Yeah, Zim," one of the mechanics, a female named Jibs, repeated as she rolled her eyes. "They're having a 'Thank Zim' convention, right on The Massive. One of the workers for the control brain let the word leak out. I think he's been terminated, but it's not that big of a deal workers know, anyway."

Fer's eyes narrowed. "Thank Zim! Because of his actions during the original Mission Impending Doom, we had to rebuild and replace over one hundred runners! That piss ant should be quarantined! He should be electrocuted! He should be terminated!" He cried in rage. They had put in overtime for weeks...!

"I know, I know," The third Irken, a male named Remz, said with a shrug. "But hey, he hasn't caused us any problems in a while. Maybe he did something right."

Fer huffed, and turned back to the panel, Jibs and Remz returning to their own jobs. You only had so much time to chat during work before one of the computer cameras noticed you weren't busy and hit you with a small tazer. Putting a connector between two wires, Fer waved to Nyon, a junior worker waiting to test the controls a few meters away. Pressing a lever, an electric charge was seen going through one of the unwrapped wires to the uncompleted runner they were working on. The right rear thruster moved as Nyon pushed the lever back and forth, and after a moment he gave Fer a thumbs up. Fer nodded and leaned back, allowing a small break before he began organizing the wires and fixing his section of the controls to the inside of the ship.

Irken Invader Voot runners were still made individually by working Irkens primarily because it was harder for any sabotage to make an impact. It would only take one well-trained Irken ten minutes to hack into an assembly line and cause thousands upon thousands of different problems for fleets of runners, problems that might not even be noticed for hours or days. When they were made individually, one Irken could do very little before someone would notice. All the mechanics were taught the same skills. Fer and Jibs and Nyon and Remz should all be able to build an entire runner on their own, with the proper materials. Groups were only used to save time. And one of the other mechanics would notice any alteration in an unfinished voot before long. There was no way any one Irken could hurt anything. This was assured by the fact that Irkens didn't unionize.

Fer realised this as he sat on the cold assembly floor, his arms on his knees, utilizing his PAK to dim the noise. He felt connected to his race, yes- he knew he was just as much and just as little as his co-workers. If he saw someone struggling to do something on his own, Fer would help him out. But it was like...

His thoughts became bitter. Like they were programmed. Because there was no real personal connection- at least, nothing too deep. There was a wall, something no one else seemed to notice. He had some Irkens he liked and some he didn't, but he always listened to The Tallest and always obeyed, like everyone else. And it was probably because of their PAKS.

Fer also realised he was probably the only one with these thoughts. The PAKS kept them in line, all ordered and common. All Irkens were unique, but small, otherwise unnoticeable things were exactly the same, and it was like only Fer caught them. They were all cogs in a machine, robots doing their jobs without question or emotion. But something was different with Fer- he thought of one night going to a deserted hill on his home planet, he thought one night of how his race started, he thought one night of becoming primal, he thought one night of committing high treason and removing his PAK of his own free will, not to die, but to live. He was the only one who was like this.

He was alone.

Fer leaned over on a hunk of scrap metal, maybe resting longer than he should have. He didn't really want the walls. He didn't want bridges, either.

His small hand brushing over the metal floor, Fer concentrated, and felt soothing vibrations from somewhere far, far away. Somewhere in the heart of the planet. His planet.

All Fer wanted was Irk.