Dib easily caught up with Zim and they crept through the tunnel. Zim stopped, frowning. He motioned to Dib, who pressed his ear against the wall. "I hear buzzing… something about whether or not lasers should be involved…"

"That's them!" Zim snarled. "Come, they will find our empty cell in seconds, and there will be a lockdown for all of Irk! We must get to the cruiser!"

Abandoning caution, they raced down the tunnel. A sharp pain stabbed Dib's side. He cried out, but kept running. As the tunnel slanted upward, Dib found it more and more difficult to breathe. His legs wobbled, but he pushed onward.

They burst into the cruiser just as alarms began ringing. Purple's frantic voice was broadcasted on loudspeakers around the planet. "Attention all Irkins! Two very dangerous criminals have escaped from the MaxSec center. It is very important that we catch them! Even more important than the next shipment of shakes coming in on time, so we are halting all shipping on and off planet until they are found! Zim, if you can hear me, give yourself up, and that half-breed too!"

"Eat meat, Tallest Purple." Zim muttered, startling himself and Dib.

Zim sat at the controls and stretched briefly. Cracking his spine, he typed coordinates into the cruiser's computer and pressed a button. The ship pushed off the docking bay and zoomed into space.

"That was too easy." Zim checked his radar nervously. Sure enough, three Decimators were on his tail. "I knew it!"

Battle euphoria crept up on him, and before he knew it, he was yanking levers and spinning knobs that would have horrified any Voot Cruiser instructor. The ship dipped and spun, narrowly avoiding the laser-cannons of the Decimators. Turning to face his attackers, Zim zoomed in on them head-on. Two veered off course. The third floated where it was, uncertain of what to do. He relieved it of the decision by blasting it.

"Hey, Master, Dib don't look too good. Think waffles might help?" Zim glanced back to see Dib sprawled on the floor, retching.

"Blast! Why are your earth-bodies so fragile? You've reopened your wounds, you are having massive internal… what's that word for that fluid you're spitting?"

"Blood, Zim," Dib choked. "Internal bleeding."

"Yes, right. GIR, take Dib back to the cargo bay and strap him down to something. He must not move too much, or he might die. Thank Irk I did some research on these pathetic shells they call bodies."

An impact rocked the ship. GIR stumbled down to the cargo bay, whistling about piggies and dragging Dib behind him.

Zim turned back to the controls. These feelings of concern are distracting and annoying! He railed. Enraged that he had not kept tighter control of himself, he released a torrent of missiles at the nearest Decimator. The explosion gave him great satisfaction.

The last Decimator tucked away its weaponry and sped back to Irk. "Again," Zim murmured uneasily, "Too simple. But I must take what I can get." Setting his controls on auto-fly to the highest speed, he hurried to the cargo bay.

……………………………………

Dib moaned. "Why must it hurt… so much?" The pain flashed up his stomach through his chest. The fact that GIR was sitting on him and chattering about the Crazy Monkey Show wasn't helping.

"Get off of Dib, GIR, he needs treatment." Zim's frustrated voice floated through Dib's haze of pain.

"Yes sir!"

"And bring me some CurHal gel, quickly!"

"Okee-dokee."

Dib felt Zim's hands fumbling at his shirt. Panic washed through him.

……………………………………

Zim reached through the force field and tore through Dib's shirt with his claws, drawing blood where he had grazed Dib's skin.

I won't let him hear me scream.

The scalpel was cold. Much colder than metal ought to be.

The pain was like nothing Dib had ever felt. Every shredded cell screamed in agony.

"That isn't a stomach." Zim muttered. "That looks like…"

As he dug deeper into Dib's body, the pain eclipsed his reason and control.

His vocal cords stretched until he felt they would snap, but the scream kept coming.

……………………………………

"Dib, Dib! You must not struggle, I must operate and seal the wounds! The computer is not here to do it right now, Dib! Can you hear me?"

Dib thrashed and flailed. "Not again! Not again, you filthy alien, you won't cut me open again!"

Zim grabbed his flailing arms and held them down. He stuck his face into Dib's and hissed, "Listen, earth-scum, I could let you die right here from loss of blood and organs that have split wide open, but I won't. What I need you to do is trust me!"

"Trust you?" Dib laughed raggedly, breaking off into hacking coughs that brought up more blood. "Why should I trust you? We've never trusted each other. Heck, if I could have had you on an autopsy table before this whole thing happened, I would have been happy. Why should I trust you?"

"Because you don't really have a choice you filthy, disgusting, slimy, egotistical bag of muck!" Shrilled the alien. Yanking a hose from the near wall, he shoved it over Dib's nose. He struggled weakly, but he was starting to see white. He fought sleep with all of his might, but all of his might wasn't enough and he fell into a dreamless slumber.

……………………………………

Hours passed. Zim wiped the sweat from his head with his free hand and continued working with the other. Most of Dib's organs he had been able to salvage, but the squeedly spooch/stomach was giving him difficulty. It didn't have a proper shape and was coated in a slimy purple goo that kept it slipping through Zim's claws.

"Lemme tryit, Master."

Zim glanced at the little SIR unit cynically. "You? This is a joke, right?"

"Nuh-uh. Sometimes I stop the Scary Monkey Show and watch E.R. I love that show! It's taught me eeeeeeverything there is to know about Dib-people thingies. Lemme try!"

Not waiting for an answer, he pushed Zim out of the way and clamped his metal hands on Dib's elusive organ. Within seconds he had sealed it shut and closed the operating hole Zim had cut through Dib's stomach.

Zim stared in slack-jawed disbelief. "That was… amazing, GIR."

"I know. I gotta go tell mini-moose! She'll be so glad to meet piggy." He zoomed off to the far end of the cargo bay, laughing hysterically. Silently, Zim retreated to the supply closet to gather cleaning supplies.

Humans make such a mess when they're sick.