Author's Note: I can't remember how I thought of this… But I do remember that I was trying to think of a way to include Gretchen into a story, because I've always wanted to try and explore her character a little since I saw "Tak, the Hideous New Girl". I also wanted to do something that included a lot of Tak in it, since she's one of my favorite characters. A few days ago, I watched "Bestest Friends" and had some thought somewhere along the lines of "Keef MUST be in love with Zim or something." Then I started thinking about all those apocalyptic Zim-fics where Zim finally conquers Earth, and then something happened… And then I thought of something—and then I woke up, and wrote something on my LJ to remind myself of it. And then I started writing on some paper in math class. And here I am, turning it into a story. For anyone who doesn't know her by name, Gretchen is the girl who gave Dib a bunch of meat on Valentine's Day. She also gets electrocuted by Zim in "Bestest Friends".

Anyways, before you ask, this story won't have a lot of romance. There will be underlying Dib/Gretchen throughout the story, very subtle implied Dib/Tak, and brief one-sided Zim/Keef. It will be nothing you non-romantics can't stomach, I assure you.

Anyways, enjoy. :)

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Chapter One: Red Skies

A sickening stench that he had identified as a mixture of vomit, human sewage, and sweat permeated the air; but as unpleasant as the odor was, it was not what bothered him (he had been subjected to it for almost six months, though he was unaware of how long it had been at the time). The ship had begun to slow, as he could tell from the noise in the engine room, and he could feel the decrease in the artificially gravity. Zim was anticipating a landing sometime extremely soon, and he was greatly unnerved by the thought of landing defenseless—and prisoner—on an alien planet.

A thin, awkward looking girl stumbled through the horde of people, trying frantically to keep the clumpy, gray-brown gruel from spilling out of the bowl she carried. She mumbled a few apologies to people as she stepped over them (or in some cases, on them) before finally reaching her destination. She sat down next to him and handed him the bowl. "It's a gross, tasteless mess," she admitted dryly, "but you really need to eat something."

A quick, unintentional jab in the stomach from the elderly woman next to him who was being tended by her granddaughter reminded him just how desperate their situation was. "There are fifty people here," he reminded her, pushing the bowl back into her hands. "Give it to someone who needs it. Really, I'm not hungry." As if to purposefully defy him, his stomach let out a low rumble. He instinctively wrapped his arms around his middle, and more and more he was beginning to think that being beaten up by Gaz for taking a slice of her pizza was a luxury. Even the lunches at skool were starting to sound appetizing…

"You haven't eaten in two days," she argued softly, her voice raspy. She forced the bowl back into his hands and turned away, letting out a rapid series of moist coughs. Her once rosy skin had been morphed by illness into a translucent gray, and her eyes had long since glazed over. The dark purple circles around her eyes from lack of sleep were the only remaining source of color in her face. As horrible as she was now—both physically and emotionally—compared to how things were on Earth (though even then, she was hardly considered attractive), she faired among the more fortunate of the passengers. Most were ill, weak, malnourished, dehydrated—any number of things. So far they had already seen two deaths: a newborn without the proper medical care who died in her sleep three nights after birth, and an elderly man who suffered from a kidney failure. The second death—over a month prior—was the last time Zim personally set foot into their chamber.

"You have to keep your strength up," she told him, looking down at her hands. "You're the only one who understands what's going on. If you die…" She was unable to finish, but the desperation in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. If anything happened to him, everyone in the chamber—and possibly everyone on the Earth—could end up dead at the hands of these monsters. As if to erase any doubt from his mind about whether or not he would eat the food—if it could be called that—his stomach growled again in protest. He sighed, picking up the spoon and rapidly shoving the thick gray soup in his mouth, more because of the horrid taste than wanted to end his hunger.

The girl gazed up at the crowd, hugging her knees to her chest. "How long has it been?" she murmured. "A month? Four months? A year? Day and night are the same anymore. You fall asleep when and where you drop, regardless of the time of day. We've been in here so long, I probably couldn't draw the sky if you asked me to—or even recognize the pencil you gave me to draw it with." She let out a deep sigh, closing her eyes and resting her forehead on her folded arms. "How much longer, Dib?" she begged, her voice beginning to crack.

He swallowed, shuddering as the cold clumpy gruel slid down his throat. He desperately wished for water to wash the taste of charcoal and vomit from his mouth (either Zim had never tasted the disgusting slop or he simply didn't care), but they were only permitted to one small bottle each day; and Dib had already given his to Gaz, who despite losing much of her will and ferocity over the trip, never lost her ability to make anyone who crossed her suffer. He supposed there was little she could do at this point to further his—or anyone's—suffering, with the possible exception of stealing his clothes, and the chances of her doing that were slim.

Bringing his attention back to the present, he leaned back against the metalloid wall behind him. "Soon…" he said at last. She turned her head so that half of her face was visible to him, and he could tell from the dejected look on her face that she didn't believe him. (Not that the concept of not being believed was anything new to Dib, he reminded himself.) He sighed, turning in place and placing a hand on the wall behind them. "On the other side of this wall is the engine," he explained. "It's cooling. Not a lot, but at the rate it's going…" He stopped, thinking. "At our current rate, we'll probably be landing in about an hour."

In truth, he had no idea how long it would take. For all he knew, it could take days, possibly a week or more. As she said, though, the days were running together, night no longer existed… Half an hour, six hours, a day… no one would know the difference.

She looked at him for a moment before straightening her legs and turning to face the metal wall herself, placing her own hand on it. She seemed to contemplate this idea for a moment.

He continued, "It's been slowing since yesterday." He gulped, preparing himself for the other half of the message. "I wouldn't let my spirits get too high about landing, though." He crinkled his eyebrows as the girl turned to face him. She didn't seem to understand. "We're landing on Zim's home planet. We're going to have to face hundreds—thousands—maybe even millions of aliens like Zim who see us as nothing more than a planet to be conquered. Slaves." She looked back to the wall, then out toward the crowd, then down towards the floor again. He took a deep breath. "The worst is far from over."

She smiled slightly, though it went unnoticed by him. She had not heard him speak with that much resolve since they left Earth. It felt soothing to have the old obsessive Dib back again. It almost felt like things were starting to return to normal, and if she just closed her eyes she would be back in the classroom, tuning in and out every now and then and catching Dib's accusations of Zim being an alien and Zim's declaration of being "a normal human pig-smelly!"

The door swished open—a sound they had not heard in a month—followed by a metallic click. Dib jumped to his feet, balling his fists in anticipation of some sort of struggle. With three more clicks of metal against metal, the Irken appeared in the doorway perched on four mechanical limbs. The wicked smirk he wore should have been enough to tell anyone of them that something was about to happen.

Had it been five months earlier, the humans might have gasped in terror and scrambled out of the diminutive alien's way, but by this time the Earthlings were broken in body and spirit, and few cared to do any more than look up at him with hollow, zombie-like eyes. It only went to show how weak and pathetic the humans were—no Irken would give up so easily. The Invader snarled, narrowing his magenta eyes and climbing over the humans. They were useless to him. He folded his arms across his chest authoritatively, sending a mental command to the mechanical legs. The four artificial limbs bend in obedience, bringing him down to the human's height.

"Zim," Dib said coldly. He glanced back at Gretchen, who scooted away as far as she could without having to go around someone.

"Dibstink," Zim seethed, curling his lips in disgust. "You reek of human waste."

"Next time you might want to put in bathrooms," he snapped.

"Silence!" Zim ordered. He twitched in impatience, locking a pair of laser-cuffs to Dib's wrists. "Despite your revolting odor, you will have to suffice. I am obliged to present a human to the Tallest, and if you expect to be any more than common house-slaves then I'll need to make you humans appear… efficient."

Dib glanced around the room. Most of them actually were as Zim had for so long portrayed them: weak, pathetic, sniveling, filthy. Zim needed to present them in the best light possible, and so he needed to choose the best human available.

"You've certainly seen better days, Dib," Zim seethed, "but I have no choice but to use you. The rest of the humans aren't even remotely presentable."

"Maybe you should try taking better care of your prisoners, Zim," he said lowly. Zim, either not hearing or not caring, grabbed Dib by the wrist and tugged him through the sea of people.

Gretchen scrambled to her feet, watching him being pushed out the door. The two shared a brief worried look before the swish of the door separated them. The only sound Dib heard for the rest of their walk was the metallic clicking of Zim's four metallic legs against the cold metal floor.

This was only the second time he had ever passed through this hallway—at that time, and six months earlier when they had first been captured. He thought it odd that rather than the typical winding circular architecture and bright colors—particularly red, purple, and green—that were normally the make-up of Irken manufacturing, it instead held fluid lines and subtle arches in almost exclusively black and silver, though he had noticed sections in shades of blue. Asking Zim about it, however, would get him no definite answer—instead, he would probably have to listen to Zim rant and rave about humans, the superiority of Irken ships, how stupid and smelly he was, and then—of course—a long exclamation of "I am ZIM!"

Zim gave him a firm push, almost making him topple over as he stumbled through the threshold of the room. He heard the metallic clicking of Zim's robotic legs against the floor, and heard the swish of the door closing. The tiny room held no color but the silver of the walls, no real furniture—nothing but supplies. In fact, with the closer look he identified it as food. The fact that people were dying of starvation and malnutrition while Zim had more than enough food for himself and his robot to gorge themselves was just another reason to hate Zim—though after the past six months he didn't think that he had much more room for hating the alien.

Before he had time to comprehend what was happening, the laser-cuffs had been deactivated so that they were no more than tight, uncomfortable but unconnected metal bands around his wrists. Zim shoved a stack of heavy, rough brown rags into his arms. He blinked a few times, bringing himself out of his daze as he held the brown garment up by the sleeves. It hardly qualified as clothing, and in fact he couldn't help but think that it looked almost like a cloth sack with holes cut for arms and a head. The pants, which had fallen to the floor, hardly looked any better, nor did they look like they would be comfortable.

He glanced at the Irken, who was drumming his claws on his arm impatiently. "What are you waiting for, Earth monkey?" Zim snapped. "Change your clothes! I haven't got all day."

"You expect me to change with you in the room?" he asked angrily, raising his voice.

Zim glared harshly at him, a growl escaping his throat. "I'm not going to leave you alone to plan your escape!" he snapped. "Though at this point, I can assure you that all your efforts are hopelessly futile, and that you'll only be prolonging your inevitable doom," he sneered.

After a few minutes of silence, each retaining his own inert glare, Zim finally barked impatiently, "Well, are you going to change of your own free will, or do I have to degrade myself to touching your filthy human flesh?"

Dib sighed in resignation. "Will you at least turn around?"

Zim studied him warily for a moment, and then turn around reluctantly. He heard Zim mumble something along the lines of "…never understand… human foolish concept of…. Who do they think they ARE!"

Dib sighed in exasperation. He wondered how long it would take before he was used to Zim again, or if he would even live long enough to need to worry about it.

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Dib entered the room, tugging at the end of the heavy metal chain as it clanked against his laser-cuffs with each step, the rhythmic but solemn sound a reminder of his imprisonment. His eyes traveled up the walls, watching as they sloped inward, curving, until at last the large ceiling shaped into a dome, the circular room drawn together elaborately. Bright splashes of green, violet, and magenta colored the walls in what most humans would have described as a tacky fashion, fit for nothing beyond cartoons. Still, the intense colors somehow seemed to fit the planet.

Dib returned his gaze to the creatures in front of him, feeling himself being jerked to an abrupt halt. He stumbled forward, but managed not to loose his footing completely. His eyes widened when he realized the aliens in front of him towered over him by nearly a foot, and due to their proximity he had to crane his neck to get a good view of their faces.

They scowled—more so at Zim then him.

Zim bowed his head in respect for his leaders and hissed at Dib, "On your knees, Earth-scum!"

Normally, he would have snapped a witty comeback at Zim, and the two would have continued for hours arguing until they were so off-topic that neither of them had any idea why they were arguing—only that they were arguing, and that they would suffer their deaths before let the other win.

But then, normally he was not on an enemy planet being held prisoner, expected to submit himself to their rule. He shot Zim a defiant stare, setting his shoulders back with his head lifted high, standing as straight as a board.

The red and purple clad leaders seem to take notice of this, and seemed—irritated? Not angry, just impatient. Dib couldn't help but find it strange.

Zim growled, kicking the back of Dib's legs. His knees buckled, and before he had time to react he was face down on the floor, like some ignorant peasant groveling for mercy from an unjust feudal lord.

"You will bow before your Tallest," Zim hissed.

Dib pushed himself up, arms quivering, glowering as he tried to raise himself to his feet. "Like hell I will…" he sputtered under his breath. Zim put one foot on the back of Dib's head, applying force swiftly and pushing him back to the floor. Dib grimaced, hissing in pain as his nose hit the cold, hard metal.

"My Tallest," Zim began proudly, "I have captured fifty of the humans and returned with them for interrogation, testing, and slavery!"

Dib gritted his teeth, struggling against Zim's weight on the back of his neck. From his position, he could see little more than the floor. In fact, all he could see was the floor.

Dib heard the voice of what he presumed to be one of the leaders tell him, "Look, Zim, we're really busy—"

"Their planet is in the middle of a civil war, and will likely plunge itself into a global dark age. They will be particularly susceptible to the Armada—"

"Look, Zim," the other leader interrupted, "as much as we would love to send the Armada to conquer Earth, we've kind of got a few… more important planets to conquer right now."

"If what you say about the civil war is true," the first one told him—it sounded like he was eating something, Dib noticed, but his words were still barely decipherable—, "then they're really not much of a threat."

"We'll make you a deal. How about we enslave the humans you've brought, and then when Earth destroys itself in their civil war we'll see if we can salvage the planet for anything useful," the other continued. "Hey, share the nachos!"

Dib couldn't help but notice that something seemed…off. Zim had always acted like the entire planet's existence hung on whether or not Zim conquered Earth. His leaders seemed like more than anything they just wanted Zim gone.

"We'll give you full control over your slaves, other than all merchandising rights," the first told him—to Dib, it sounded more like pleaded. More like Why are you still here?

Zim seemed to contemplate this idea. "My Tallest!" he announced, breaking the silence. "I have accepted your offer! I will patrol these slaves, and when the planet collapses on itself and is captured, the name of Invader Zim will be universally famous!"

"You didn't even do anything!" Dib cut in at last, managing to lift up his head enough to see Zim's face.

A look of pure malice spread across the Irken's face, and he kicked Dib in the back of the head as hard as he could manage. Dib hissed, feeling the jolt of pain run through his nose, still aching from its first unpleasant introduction to the floor's hard surface.

"Anyways, just how did you get fifty humans here with just your voot runner?" the first asked. Dib could hear him crunching on nachos in the background.

"You see, a group of Meekrob was—"

"Well, Zim, we really need to be going. It's only once every several years that we're actually on Irk, so we have to go…take care…of some things!" the second interjected. "Load your slaves on level six-hundred sixty-six in cells ten through fifteen with ten humans a cell. Register them, fill out the paper-work…just do all the stuff you need to do before we can sell them as slaves."

Dib felt himself be jerked to his feet, stumbling forward with the erratic clanking of the chain as he tried to keep up with Zim's quick movement. When they were out of earshot of the two Irken leaders and had rounded several corners, Zim yanked the chains taut and flung Dib against the wall, supporting himself on four mechanical legs. (Dib assumed that he had not used them earlier as a show of respect for his leaders, but here Zim sought to make himself appear superior and made use of this as an intimidation tactic.)

"If you ever again have the audacity to humiliate me in front of the Tallest, I will make sure that your last few days of life are so horribly unbearable that your demise will come as a relief to you," he seethed. "Do you understand?"

Dib narrowed his eyes, nodding. "Perfectly."

"Good. Now, Dibstink, you would do well to keep you mouth closed and to not speak to any non-human unless you are spoken to first." Zim pulled him back into motion, the steady clinking of the chains echoing through the endless halls lulling him into his own thoughts, set galaxies away.

How was he ever going to get out of this?

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Author's Note: I'm currently searching for a beta-reader, preferably someone who is competent at English spelling and grammatical structure and is not afraid to give occasion constructive criticism, tell me if I contradict myself, tell me if someone starts to get out of character, etc. I've gone over this myself at least three times already, and I still find a few mistakes. I'm not opposed to NOT having a beta, but having a second set of eyes look over it really helps, especially when it's someone who can be objective, as I know my writing is far from perfect.

According to my outline (which only covers the first five chapters, but I should expand on it a little more within the next few weeks), Tak and Keef are both scheduled to appear in the next chapter. I'm not sure when Gaz will appear, but I know she's going to have a part in chapter four. I haven't figured out whether or not she'll have any part in chapters two and three.

Reviews are highly appreciated, constructive criticism is more than welcome, and support makes me happy, which means I feel like writing and, in short, I update quicker.