A.N. Thanks to InvaderCorren (tis denial), Suicidal RuBBerDuckie (haha, that poor plushy), monkeygodkiller, ROFLtowel (and rarofdoom) (lol, were you close to this bug?), and Missy Lynne (I think pretty much everyone's figured it out at this point, but I'm still not saying anything). Cause you people reviewed. I wuv oo, my little darlings! And. . . crap. . .
Chapter five- Cornchips
"I miss Mommy," Pin says. She's lying upside down on the couch in Kacer's living room.
Kacer looks up from her sewing job (she's repairing Pop-pop Bunny) and says kindly, "You'll see her soon."
"Hm." Pin looks to her brother, who's been staring out the window since he woke up. "Do you miss Mommy, Clox?"
"The sky's falling," is all he says.
Kacer leans forward, confused, glances out the window, then says, leaning back, "That's only rain."
Clox stands up and says, "I-I'm bored."
"Go watch TV."
"I hate TV!" Clox yells, stomping his foot.
"Then go cook something."
"A-all you food is smelly."
"Go annoy Pin."
"Okay!"
Pin falls off the couch in disbelief.
"Kacer!" she says in a whiny voice. "You're meeean!"
Kacer grins sheepishly, and shrugs.
"Sorry. . ." she says meekly.
In the next moment, the front door swings open, revealing a rather miserable Dib.
"It's been raining all morning," he says, closing his umbrella.
As Pin rushes over to hug his leg, Kacera sks, "Were you planning to be outside all day?"
"Nah," Dib says. He shakes Pin off his leg nonchalantly. "It's just harder to transmit messages in the rain, you only send static."
"What kind of messages do you need to send?" Kacer begins to ask, but is interrupted by a sudden outburst, curtesy of Clox.
"I WANNA GO TO THE PARK!"
Everyone else jumps, and then turn to Clox, who looks hysterical, but only for a second. Then he clears his throat, and bows his head humbly.
"But it's raining out," Kacer says. "We can't take you."
"But uh," Clox says, "w-what about, uh. . .what about jackets? We can-can wear jackets!"
Kacer looks to Dib for a second, then shrugs.
"Well, my aunt might have some of my cousin's old jackets," she says, "they might fit you and your sister."
She makes her way over to the coat closet, rummages through it for a few minutes, then emerges holding two miniature jackets.
"Score!"
"There's practically no one here," Tak says, to nobody in particular.
"Most of the troops are still on their way, probably," Zim mutters in response.
Looking around the base, it's not as though it's completely barren; there are about a few hundred soliders out in the open, performing various tasks and all, but compared to the full size of the Irken military, the place is dead.
"Yo!" shouts an unfamiliar voice.
Zim and Tak turn around sharply, and standing before them is a rather short male Irken.
"Hey," he says, "you two are the new guards, right?" When they nod, he continues, "I'm Jilly. Follow me."
He leads them to stairs that descend from an unstable-looking tower.
"This is your port," Jilly explains, "there's a computer up there so you can contact the other port," he points to another tower some two hundred yards away,"if anything goes wrong. Now, the Meekrob's base/dam thingy's only three miles away, and there's a possibility they'll release some of that burning liquid on us, so if that happens, alert the base, and the rest of us'll escape."
"But what'll happen to us?" Zim asks, alarmed.
"Oh, you'll probably die."
"Ewuh!"
"You're not serious?" Tak asks.
"Yeah," Jilly says with a sigh, "yeah, I am."
"But why couldn't we escape?"
"SILENCE!" Jilly shouts, his left eye bulging out. Then he goes back to normal and says calmly, "I suggest you two take shifts, cause you're gonna be doing this as long as necessary. Or until you die."
"Thanks."
Jilly just salutes in return, says, "Good luck," and exits.
Zim and Tak exchange a quick glance, then Zim points to the tower and says, "I'll take the first shift."
"I can join you."
Zim just shakes his head, and runs up the stairs hastily.
"You'd be too much of a distraction!" he calls down. "We can switch up in a few hours!"
Tak stares after him for a moment, then punches the wall, leaving a small dent. And then she growls under her breath, rather resentfully, "Males."
"Are you sure you want ice cream when it's so wet out?" Kacer asks.
Pin nods eagerly.
"Yup!" she says. "I want sprinkles!"
Kacer sighs and turns to Clox, "What about you, honey? You want sprinkles?"
"I do not want your vile Earth food!" Clox proclaims, resembling Zim so closely, it gives Dib chills.
"How come, Clox?" Pin asks. "You eat Earth ice cream all the time!"
Clox looks to Kacer, a little embaressed, and says meekly, "I'll have, uh, chocolate-chocolate sp-sprinkles on mine. . ."
Kacer holds in a smile, then turns to the ice cream vender and asks for four cones.
When she gets their orders, she hands a cone to Clox and Pin, and the two run off near the monkey bars, excitedly.
"Don't slip!" she calls after them, handing Dib a cone. "The playset's all wet!"
She and Dib take a seat on a dry bench (a hovering branch protected it from getting rained on), and Kacer says, watching after them, "They're cute."
"Yeah," Dib says, "and just think- one day they'll grow to be heartless invaders, just like their dad!"
Kacer makes a face and says, "You don't know that. They're good kids."
"They're good kids now. When they get older, they're probably just gonna enter the military and try to conquer defenseless planets-"
"What makes you say that?"
"The Irken race is strongly focused on its military and invading alien territory to strengthen their empire, I've been researching this since I was eleven. And besides, the Meekrob said-"
"The Meekrob?" Kacer echoes. "Who the heck are the 'Meekrob'?"
"No one, no one," Dib mutters.
There's a brief silence, then Kacer says, "What about Tak?"
"What about her?"
"You don't seem to think negatively about her, and she's Irken. Not to mention, married to your worst enemy-"
"Well, that's different, she's my friend."
"And they-" Kacer points to Pin and Clox, still on the monkey bars, "are mine."
At that moment, a cry can be heard from the playset.
"Hey Kacer," Dib says, "your friend's in trouble."
"Oh, shut up."
She walks from the bench to the kids, and Clox is curled up on the ground, shaking.
"What's the matter? Did he fall?"
"No," Pin says, "he took off his hood."
"What?"
Kacer gently lifts Clox from the ground, and smoke is coming from his scalp as though he is burning.
"He forgot to wear paste," Pin explains, "and he got rained on."
"I don't quite-"
"Water burns Irken skin," Dib says, approaching the playset, "so they use paste to protect themselves."
"That's gross."
"Kacer," Clox whispers softly. Tears are streaming from his eyes, "There's paste. . .uh, there's p-p-paste at my house. . .we-we go get it please. . ."
Kacer nods, pulls Clox's hood over his head, then holds the young child inside her jacket.
"Alright, we'll be there soon. Don't worry."
Pin had to stand on her tiptoes, and even then she could hardly see him. She tugged at the hem of her mother's clothes and said, "Can I look?"
Tak smiled, and bent down so she was eye level with her daughter. She held out her arms, and in them was a sleeping newborn smeet.
Pin's eyes began to water.
"He's dead!" she cried.
Tak pulled back slightly in alarm, and said, "No! Sweetie, he's asleep! Not dead. . ."
"Who's dead!" Zim shouted, rushing into the room in a panic.
Pin was sobbing now, apparently choosing to ignore her mother's words and pointed to the smeet.
"M-m-my only brother! He's dead!"
Zim looked in horror to his wife's arms, and began to sob as well.
"Figures, when we finally have a boy-"
"You idiots, he's not-"
"Who's dead!" This came from Gir, who entered the room with Mimi and Minimoose.
"No one-" Tak began, but was cut off by Zim, who shouted, "My only son!"
Everyone but Tak was crying now, whereas Tak looked highly agitated.
"Everyone, stop crying!" she shouted, red in the face. "No one is dead, he's-"
Hiccup.
Everyone froze. Minimoose made a single squeak, but then there was a silence. . .and then. . .
Hiccup.
They all turned to the smeet in Tak's arms. His eyes were wide open, shining a dark, dark res. He blinked once. And he hiccuped.
Everyone cried out in jubilance.
"He's alive!"
"Geez Tak," Zim said, taking his son from her, "why didn't you tell us?"
"You jackass-"
"Silence!" Zim held up the small Irken for all to see and said, "State your name, son of Zim!"
His son surveyed the room, then smiled, revealing two sharp stubs. He reached to his mother and tugged her antenna, then hugged it as best he could.
"'M Clox!"he said.
"It's my turn," Tak says, as she enters the watch tower.
Zim jumps. Before this, he had been dozing off a bit. He doesn't say anything now.
Tak thrusts a bag of cornchips at him, and he catches it.
"The cafeteria here is enormous," she says, "you like those things, right?"
Zim nods, takes a bite from one of the cornchips, then grimaces and throws it aside.
"Clox's are better," he says.
"Of course they are," Tak says. She's staring out of the tower. She sighs, and then realizes Zim isn't leaving the port yet. "Wonder what that bruning liquid stuff is. Wouldn't it be funny if it was water?"
Zim looks up, and it registers to him that he should probably make an effort to talk.
"Yes," he says, "but where would they get it from?"
Tak shrugs, not even looking back at him.
"And how would they even know it affects us. . .?" she whispers. She sighs again, and falls silent.
After a few minutes, Zim says, "You know, I bathed in paste this morning."
Tak's caught off-guard and she laughs.
"Why?" she asks. "We're no where near water."
Zim shrugs and grins weakly.
"It's a habit," he says.
After a few moments, Tak's laughter trails off, and another silence falls. Both of them feel a little sick, but neither say so.
"Tak, are you still upset you're not in the Irken elite?"
"Way to strike a nerve, Zim." But then she looks to him for the first time since she entered the tower, and then her tone softens. "A little. . .but, I'll get another chance. . .the second Clox turns eighteen, I'm taking my test."
"You told me one time. . . about. . .you know. . .only I didn't believe you then. . ."
It takes Tak a second to realize he's talking about his false mission, and her insides jump anxiously. She turns away.
"Yeah," she says, "I know."
"I feel really stupid."
". . .um. . .sorry."
From the corner of her eye, she sees Zim bury his face against his knees. She feels weird; like maybe she should ask his permission, but she doesn't, she just bends down next to him, and leans forward and hugs him.
His eyes widen in surprise at first, but then he realizes what's going on, and hugs her back.
And then, after a full minute of them frozen in that position, Tak pulls away slightly, so they're at an arm's length hug and says softly, "You should head down to the cafeteria, before it closes. They're bound to have something other then cornchips."
"Do you think I'll get another chance?"
"Well, the cafeteria'll be open in the morning too. . ."
"No! I mean. . .with. . ." he trails off, and Tak smiles.
"I'm sure you'll find something, Zim."
He smiles too, then stands up.
"I'll come back after I eat," he says, "you want anything?"
"If they have any Licky Sticks, I'll have that."
Zim salutes, and exits the tower. Tak watches after him with a satisfied grin until she sees he's made it to the bottom of the base.
By the times he's entered the cafeteria, she's already turned away, looking out across the barren terrains of Meekrob. Although it's night, the moonlight is shining rather brightly. But suddenly, for just a second, a shadow is cast across the sky.
Tak looks up in curiosity, then gasps in alarm. She turns to the computer in an alert attempt to connect to the other port; but then a blinding light flashes.
When Zim enters the tower, carrying Tak's Licky Stick, not even an hour later, she's gone.
End of Chapter five. . .
Ha! I fooled you all! Zim wasn't oblivious! He was just trying to distract himself! Mwaha. . . ha. . . Next chapter is 'The Bitch Slap and the Flashlight', where you will read about:
-a bitch slap
-a flashlight
-Tak's captors
Random crap: I have this nasty habit of slamming into my nightstand. It's rather painful. Poor me.
Once again, review and crap, blah blah blah. . .