Sorry for the wait, all, here we go again. - S.

Zim extended a second spider leg from his PAK and deftly shredded Gir's bonds in one swift motion, having already freed himself in a similar fashion.

He couldn't detect any surveillance activity in the room, not any other hi-tech gear, and he surmised that Leela and Fry and the others had really just put him and Gir in an ordinary storage closet. The filth, he thought angrily. He shook his fist, and then returned to the matter at hand.

"It's time to get up, Gir!" hissed Zim, trying to keep his voice down lest the Planet Express people hear him.

The little bot rolled over and stirred uneasily.

"But I don't wanna get up yet, mommy!" he whined, sulking in his sleep like a petulant six-year-old.

"We have to get out of here, Gir!" snapped Zim, a little louder this time. He reached out with a black foot and gave Gir a nudge. No response.

"Now, Gir!"

Gir sat up uneasily, sleep still weighing heavily on his photoreceptors, the automaton looking more like a human child who didn't want to go to school.

"Okey-dokey," he mumbled wearily, and then stood up to his full height, which wasn't all that high to begin with. He rubbed one small hand across his little silver-and-cyan face, trying to return to normal status.

Zim unfolded a comprehensive microphone from the PAK after drawing the spider leg back in; then he extended a semi-rigid polymer cable into a nearby power outlet mounted on the wall. It was something Zim had wished to try all week, but hadn't for fear of arousing suspicion. Now that the Planet Express monkeys desired to be rid of him, though, there was no point in holding back. The mike's limited range would be boosted by the internal power via the outlet, and Zim would piggyback his signal off of the satellite dish mounted on the roof of the strange red complex that he had called home for the past week.

"Calling the Irken Armada," he whispered into the mike, which was attuned to his standard transmission frequency. "Invader Zim reporting. Are you there, My Tallest? Zim to Irk, respond."

No answer. Zim had asked the Professor for help earlier in the week in contacting his race - well, maybe he had ordered more than asked - but was told trying to contact his race would be a futile effort. Apparently they didn't know who they were dealing with, or just how tenacious an Invader could be.

"Calling the Irken Armada," he repeated. "Invader Zim reporting."

He felt a slight wave of despair, but he quickly pushed it back down into his organs. The Tallest had almost assuredly not lived this long, unless their snack supplies had held out, but he felt certain he could contact their descendants or whoever ruled Irk now. He refused to believe that the Irken race had failed to survive. Maybe they had bypassed Earth, but he absolutely believed they were still out there somewhere.

Still, though, just radio silence. He wondered if he should make a try for the Voot Runner; but no, his newfound enemies would be waiting for him outside.

"Come in, My Tallest," asked Zim once more. "This is Invader Zim. Please respond."

Nothing. Not a chime, not even a beep. He looked over at Gir, still standing there sleepily, and then stared sadly at the floor himself. They really were all alone, mused Zim. No Armada, no Irkens, no Tallest, no ...

Static suddenly crackled over Zim's communications array, lightly at first, then growing louder, just as a small vid-window popped up from Zim's PAK and cast its greenish pall on a nearby wall.

"Hello?" came a slightly aged but still lucid voice, like someone who was a tad hard of hearing but still possessed most of their mental faculties. "Who is it?"

"Hello, My Tallest?" queried Zim hopefully. The video was grainy, but it started to clear up as Zim adjusted a dial on the mike. He though he could make out one tall figure - no, two - standing there, both of them shrouded mostly in shadow, but with slightly luminescent eyes. Each figure also had different colored eyes.

"Who is it, again?" spoke another voice, different from the first one. It had to be the other figure.

"It is I, Invader Zim!" said Zim proudly, as if heralding his own coronation.

A brief interlude of silence punctuated the other end of the transmission, followed by anxiety and downright disbelief.

"No," sounded the first voice. "It can't be!"

"Oh, no," echoed the second. "No, no, no!"

"My ... Tallest?" quizzed Zim, confused, as he rotated the dial to achieve better video focus. The two figures were still mostly ensconced in darkness, but he could clearly make out red eyes on one and purple orbs on the other. And long white – hey, were those beards?

"Uh, no, they're not here," replied the first voice, the red-eyed one, in a rushed fashion, as if he was trying to avoid a conversation.

"Yeah, better luck next time, Zim!" came the second purple-eyed voice - then some blurred motion and a slapping sound, as if the figure was trying to cover its mouth over something it had said.

"Don't say his name!" snapped the other figure.

"What is going on here?" roared Zim, frustrated at not getting any straight answers. "Who are you? What is the meaning of this? Answer Zim!"

"Well, it's too late now," whispered the second voice, seemingly resigned to its fate.

"Greetings, Invader Zim," added Tallest Purple, now moving into view, complete with full beard and more than a hint of disdain in his tone.

"My Tallest!" beamed Zim. Finally something, someone, was familiar to him in the 30th Century!

"Where are you now, Zim?" asked Tallest Red wearily, also bearded, while hoping that Zim was still on Earth and far away from them.

"I am still fighting the good fight on Earth, My Tallest," replied Zim. "Earth in the - well, the 30th Century, that is."

"How'd you get - here?" asked The Tallest in unison.

"Took a wrong turn in the Voot Runner, went through some kind of spatial warp, nothing I can't handle," said Zim, shaking his hand up and down matter-of-factly before launching into an inquisition mode.

"What happened to the Irken armada?" he pleaded. "Why was Earth never conquered? Did I not pave the way for annihilation of the humans? Tell meee!" He shook his hands furiously about him.

"Well, Zim," started Tallest Red, sounding like he was straining for the words. "We ... lost contact with you back in the 21st century and I guess we just ... forgot all about Earth."

"Yeah, we just forgot," added Tallest Purple. "We got busy conquering other planets elsewhere. Sorry about that!"

Zim blinked absent-mindedly at the vid-screen. A mighty Invader had disappeared and they just - forgotten? But why? How? What for?

And then it dawned fully on Zim, something he had suspected all week but couldn't confirm until now - that if he couldn't have done the job of overthrowing that filthy blue globe, then no one could have. The reason why Irk had never enslaved Earth was that Zim had not been there to properly prepare the planet. No wonder those filthy Planet Express fools had never heard of the Irken Armada!

It was clear to Zim what he had to do - what he had been born to do.

"I've got to get back!" he blurted out. "Back - to the future!" he finished, pointing straight at the vid-screen and holding his point.

"You mean, the past," corrected Tallest Red sarcastically.

"Past, future, one of those," retorted Zim. "I have to get back to 21st Century Earth and prepare the way for the Irken in-VA-sion!"

The Almighty Tallest nearly choked on their omnipresent snacks. Life had been so peaceful for almost 900 years A.Z. (After Zim) ...

"Thank you for helping me to refocus on my mission, My Tallest," said Zim proudly, fists now on his hips. "I will make every endeavor to prepare the way for the Armada! Of course, when I get back there, you will have no recollection of this conversation, since obviously it will not have happened - yet."

"Whatever, Zim," sighed Tallest Purple, now resting his face in his hand and shaking his head back and forth slowly, almost painfully.

"Now I simply need to ascertain a way to return in time," mused Zim, rubbing his chin.

"Read a book or something, just don't take your sweet time, Zim," moaned Tallest Red, rubbing his temple to ward off an incoming migraine. Part of him hoped Zim would get back - or better yet, get blown up in the attempt - rather than stay here and pester them further in the year 3000. It had been a good nine centuries ...

"No time to waste, My Tallest. Invader Zim, signing off!" said Zim staunchly as he snapped to attention and saluted before ending his transmission.

Light years away, Tallest Red and Tallest Purple looked at each other and sighed.

"What did we do to deserve him - again?" said Tallest Red.

Tallest Purple just shook his head and stuffed some snacks into his beard-bedraggled mouth.

Back on Earth, Zim shook Gir fully awake and extended a spider leg once more from his PAK, this one equipped with a laser-cutting tip that he trained on the far wall.

The words "read a book or something" were rooted foremost in Zim's mind, and the seeds of a viable plan began to germinate in his brain.

"Get ready, Gir!" he sneered as the laser tip began to bore into the wall. "We're going - to the library!

TBC