It's that time again, folks- update time. I honestly can't believe this thing will be 2 years old in August...it feels like we just started(or is that my lack of progress?). Thank you to all my patient readers, it means a lot that you're willing to put up with my procrastinating and fandom flipping!
If there was one thing Gaz knew for certain, it's that she wasn't stewing. Lounging against the arm of their couch, music surely paving the way to hearing loss later in life, and her notepad filled with all of her deepest, darkest artistic endeavors at the ready to be led by her hand, but not stewing. Open to the release of all her pent up emotions of this stupid night, that stupid party crasher, her stupid so-called "friend" who couldn't seem to get it through his thick head that they weren't at his beck and call anymore! Dib strolled into her peripheral before rushing back out again, but she was too busy not stewing to pay him any real attention. That little- did he really think she had nothing to lose?! That they had just stayed in the same place all this time? She, and to a lesser extent Dib, had a life! Ones that lay far from the reaches of him and his dumb, alien antics...at least...they did.
He was back now. He had, once again, taken over the forefront of importance. Even as his friend, she often compared him to a parasite...she knew he struggled with knowing when he was being too much, at least back then. His instincts were inherently selfish, outside of typical self-preservation. He took much and gave little. On the off moments when she decided to care, she wondered how his species had become so pitiless and jaded in their own wrongdoings. She thought about how the disposition would look on humans...no cultures, no races, no love for anything that couldn't be used against someone else. Just one, big lost cause. Only, it couldn't be...there had to be exceptions- errors- in this code. Some kind of redeeming factor to show they weren't all compassionless machines.
Like defects.
Hands busy, she vaguely noticed Dib on the move in the background. The song in her headphones changed, a slow guitar running over the low ringing in her ears. The gentle strumming made her more empathetic feelings ignite and she hated it...she wanted to be angry. He had no right to assume they'd be with him, to rope them in and drag them down with him. She didn't want to believe he was dumb enough to think neither of them would be opposed. She wanted to believe he'd used them on purpose- that the most wretched parts of the old Zim were still there. She could find easier vindication that way...she would be able to tell herself that he deserved having them walk out of his life. She hated feeling as though she'd abandoned someone who relied so heavily on her out of trust instead of maliciousness. He was wrong, there was no doubt about that, but not for the reasons she wanted. It was foolish to think they could start back where they'd left off all those years ago...that there was no way Zim would allow himself to change for anyone but himself, but this person...he was someone she didn't know anymore.
The sound of something falling drew her into reality and she looked over the back of the sofa, catching the end of Dib picking a water bottle off the ground and putting in his backpack.
"What are you doing?" she asked, throwing her headphones around her neck and quirking an eyebrow.
"Packing," he said firmly, eyeing his pre-made lost of supplies.
She watched him dumbly as he muttered to himself about rations before replying, "You can't be serious..."
Shrugging into the straps, he spun around and looked down his nose at her, a slight look of disappointment on his face as he spoke, "As a heart attack. Or that time Clembrane replaced the oil in dad's car with maple syrup. He's our friend, Gaz. The circumstances aren't ideal, but what am I gonna do? Stay cozied up here while he gets himself killed?"
"I don't want to say 'yeah', but yeah," she scowled, "Why should we have to be roped into his little rebellion? This isn't our fight. Besides, from the sound of things, he has a whole ship full of martyrs at the ready."
"Yeah, well, from the sound of things, they aren't enough. Besides, I'm sure my technological expertise could be put to good use among like-minded peers."
"Dib, this people have mastered space travel, I don't know how much more you could add to the equation..."
"You seem to have forgotten the very complex piece of extraterrestrial machinery I spent months repairing to perfection," he eyed her, pulling a smug face.
Gaz huffed, muttering, "How could I forget? You can't set foot in the garage without getting judged."
"That's why there are earplugs by the door," he nodded, "So...what do you say?"
"'What do I say?' I say, " she began, readjusting herself before flopping back into the cushions, "have a blast and send me a postcard."
It hurt to say. A pit opened in her stomach and her body felt heavy as she stared blankly at her notepad. She knew she didn't mean it...truth be told, she'd made her decision on the matter not an hour after leaving Zim's house. Of course she was going, but she wanted the world to know she wasn't happy about it. She wanted Zim to regret every action that had led to this moment. She hated how lightly it was being treated, she wanted these stakes acknowledged, she wanted an apology for the sake of everything she was about to give up...possibly forever. Things could go so wrong. She hated that she had to be the one to think about it.
If Dib was at all caught off guard by her answer, he didn't let it show. His expression dropped and the room was silent save for the faint tune still playing out of Gaz's headphones. He thought a moment before finally speaking again.
"You know...there was this thing someone I know very well once said. I had just got done making some pretty hefty mistakes and, man, was I at a loss... didn't know what to do, but do you know what she did?" he paused, "she looked at me and said 'what do we always do? We fix it.'. It didn't mean much then, don't hit me, but I always think about it when things get rough...when it feels like I'm in over my head and I get reminded of how lame all this is. I can't change why this is happening, but I can at least try and help end it. So...I dunno, if you end up running into that super smart mystery person, let her know I'll be saving her a seat."
The next sound was of the front door closing and she was alone.
"Are you ready?" Tak inquired
"Um...no, not really," Zim replied, eyes shifting nervously.
"It'll be 30 seconds, tops. All you have to do is sit there and look incapacitated. Preferably before your junk pile SIR unit finds its way down here, as well."
From his position on the floor, he knew he'd be in Iserai's direct line of site. He had no doubt he could put on a convincing role, but he didn't exactly care much for the thought of having those eyes on him. 30 seconds...in and out, off like a band-aid...he could do this.
"Fine," he lets out, body shuddering one last time in an attempt to relax, "and don't call him that."
"Now, now, don't get snippy, it's like you built it. Now, hush and play dead!"
He didn't get a second more before the monitor rang with the outgoing transmission. A weight settled over his chest and he tried not to panic as his window of stalled time rapidly diminished. Until...
"You have reached a private communication channel. By order of the Noxan government, state your identity immediately," a firm, female voice said.
"Irken TAK, bio tag 0875463-D. I have important news regarding the king's commission."
"Ah yes, you..." Itlum said, boredly, eyeing her in distaste, "His Majesty has been waiting quite patiently to hear of your progress."
Not missing a beat, Tak replied coolly, "Well, feel free to pass along the message that his wait is over. If you'd be so kind."
"Mm. Please standby."
Tak stood proudly, not letting the anxiety that she was about to lie straight into the face of someone who could send armies after her show. If she can handle being humiliated in front of the Control Brains, of losing her status, making a life for herself while holding onto decades of deep-seated contempt and still gaining an upper hand...she could lie.
And as the glowering face of her employer popped into the screen, she did.
"Tak," he began, voice low, "I pray the reason you're calling is a good one."
She breathed, "That it is, Your Excellency. I'm practically brimming with joy to be able to inform you that your wayward consort has been successfully contained."
He seemed surprised by her statement, sitting slightly straighter, "Is that so?"
With that, she smiled and swiftly stepped off to the side in order, sweeping a hand in the direction of the other Irken secured tightly in a chair. As the silence went on, Zim hoped to whatever deity would listen that the Noxan couldn't see his trembling.
"He doesn't seem to be in the most pristine of conditions..."
"He put up quite a fight, your grace. I promise you the damage is most superficial in nature and humbly ask your forgiveness," Tak stated, bowing her head in submission.
"Granted, "he waved absently, as if shooing a pest, "You did what needed to be done, it seems. You've managed to perform beyond my initial expectations. I may just be able to cancel the impersonators after all."
"I'm afraid there may be an issue with that part, sire. My ship has been severely damaged due to the hostile conditions of this planet. I realize it is a hefty request, but I ask for an extra cycle of time in order to make the proper repairs."
"...'hostile conditions'? I see," Iserai looked off screen for a moment, nodding before piercing her with a barely sustained glare, "I'm sure I don't have to tell you that an extra cycle would land you outside of the preordained deadline?"
"N-no, Your Majesty...I ask simply to appeal to your generosity," please let this work...
The king chuckled, folding his hands in front of himself and trying not to look like he wanted to end her, "I've never been one for altruism. This is a major setback, Tak. Not only would I have to inform your poorly managed government of my rescinded declaration, but until Zim sets foot back on Noxisis, there's a chance I would be forced to take it back! We're both prideful beings, I'm sure you can imagine what a besmirching display that would be."
Tak fought against the knot coiling in her stomach. It had been so long since she'd actually be reprimanded by someone else, it reminded her vaguely of home. Zim, still feigning unconsciousness, knew the tone well enough and silently begged her to say the right thing.
Say it, he though, 'It won't take long.'
Finding her voice, she spoke almost pleadingly, "I assure you with every fiber of my being that he will be returned to you. My repairs will only take a mere fraction longer than the deadline allows."
Good.
"Then why do you need an entire cycle?" he pressed, eyeing her dangerously.
Not good...
"Just...thinking ahead," her voice threatened to shake, "I would hate having to request more time down the line, is all. I'm confident I will be able to complete the repairs promptly, my king."
Iserai seemed to ponder this a moment, leaving both Irkens silently pleading that it outweighed the cons of having to wait longer. He cast another look toward Zim and sighed, a growl finishing it off.
"You will inform me of when you depart," he spoke curtly.
"I will inform you of when we depart," she echoed.
"Very well. Your people should congratulate you, Tak...you just prevented a war," he smiled, almost like he was impressed. Almost, "However, your request has been denied. I will give you half a cycle. Since you're so confident, that should be more than enough. Do not loiter on that planet, any other requests from you will be denied, I'm telling you now. See that things run smoothly."
"Of course. Thank-," she was cut off by the screen going black.
A second to process was all it took before both Irkens sucked in large breaths, all but hyperventilating as they looked at each other with only one thought in their gazes.
They'd done it.
And just like that, it's done. I hope this chapter wasn't too trash- I'm running a bit late for a gathering(COVID safe, of course) and rushed some of the ending. I may or may not revisit tomorrow. Thanks for reading!
