Dib stepped back. "What do you mean, 'Master'? Zim's not here—and why are you in duty-mode?"
"It is understood, Invader Zim is not present. Duty-mode is locked."
"O-okay, so why are you calling me 'Master'?"
"You gave passcode override 'stinks' as specified by Invader Zim. Operation R&R silent mode standing by."
"Wait, wait, Operation R&R? Like Rest & Recreation?" Dib asked hopefully.
"Rescue & Reconnaissance." Corrected the stoic robot.
"Rescue? Wh—Zim?"
"Affirmative."
Dib stared at GIR for a moment, then collapsed to the floor laughing hysterically. "Of all the silliest (gasp wheeze) stupidest things to (pant pant) ask, me helping Zim? Really GIR, that's too much, even for you!"
"Invader Zim assisted you."
Dib stopped. Raising himself to eye-level with the hopelessly defective SIR, he spoke low and evenly. "Yes, only after he took me to his ship and laid open my guts, only after he took me to his Tallest and let them humiliate me, and only because they would have killed him too."
GIR stared at him, red eyes wavering. "Standing by for commands, Master."
"What? Me? Oh no, not me not saving that alien no way! He pulled me apart and he laughed about it! No, he's gonna get dissected too and I'm gonna see it happen, and I'm gonna laugh in his pain-ridden face." He leaned against the wall, smirking.
GIR's eyes melted into cyan briefly, and he shook his head sadly. "Master still gave orders. I gotta go even if you won't help, big-head! I reeeely thought you'd help me." With that he began shrinking. Dib watched impassively as GIR scuttled under his door, no bigger than a spider.
………………………………………………………………………………………
Dib kicked open the door to his lab, glad to be home again. How many months was I out there anyway? Nah, it doesn't matter. What matters is that I'm back. He stretched, wincing as his stomach pulled tight. Peeling off his shirt, he gazed at the jagged scar running the length of his stomach. Well, whatever happens to him now, he's made sure to leave his mark. Permanently. Angrily, he jammed his shirt back on and stalked over to his mainframe computer, pausing to stroke the CPU lovingly.
After seating himself in his chair, his fingers fairly flew over the keyboard. There's so much to report to The Swollen Eyeball! I've got to write it all down.
Time lost meaning as Dib detailed every moment of his experience, barely stopping for a restroom break. So when he heard a strong knock at the door, he started in surprise.
"Come in," he called.
There stood his dad, dressed head to toe in white, as usual. "Son! Great news, I contacted some of the highest ranking scientists in the known world and they're all coming to see the tests and dissection I'll be running on the alien." He puffed out his chest proudly.
"Great, Dad." Dib muttered, turning back to the computer.
Deflated, Professor Membrane stammered, "I—I came in to tell you that I wanted you to make the first cut."
Dib paused, frozen. "What was that?"
"I wanted you to make the first cut—in the dissection. Actually, I was hoping you'd do most of it." He dipped his head ominously. "We downloaded all the information from that PAK of his, including his memories. I saw what he did." Dib shuddered. "No son of mine is treated like that, no! You did well under such circumstances, Dib, and you should reap the reward; revenge. So I want you to come to the lab tomorrow afternoon. We'll run the tests before we cut him open. Alright son?"
Stunned, Dib mouthed, "Sure."
Membrane beamed. "That's my boy! Well, here's your I.D. card so they'll let you pass. See you tomorrow afternoon at 4:00, sharp!" With that he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.
………………………………………………………………………………………
Zim shivered in the flimsy hospital gown they had dressed him in. If he never saw the inside of a Cryo-freeze chamber again, he'd be a happy Irkin. He burrowed under the one blanket they had provided him, all too aware of the cameras recording his every move.
He had given up trying to remove the gum; it seemed resistant to his fingers and skin. Figures, knowing Dib. And after banging his fists against the solid steel cell for hours and screaming threats in English and Irkish, he realized he would not escape.
So he lay curled on the cot they had provided, terrified of what the next day would bring, and desperately praying that GIR would somehow be able to get him out.
