Hello! So, small update. My computer is currently slowly dying on me (via blue screens at random intervals) so I have to get a new one. After I lost my wallet. And my cards were frozen. SO it's been FUN. BUT, that aside, I have been working on this when I can. Hope you enjoy!

Part 42: Check In

Zim watched, in utter confusion and amazement, as Abed took the truck back the next day without checking the roof. Dib waved him off and bounced his way back up the sidewalk to the front of the base. He looked entirely too smug about it.

"You're not going to tell him, are you?" Zim asked.

"I'm going to hammer it out later," Dib said. He kicked the door shut. "I shouldn't have slept in…"

"You didn't sleep until past 5 am," Zim says. "And wouldn't wake up!"

"My arm still hurts," Dib says, rubbing at his arm. Zim gave him a gentle shoulder check on his way past to the stairs.

"It worked."

Zim pushed the door open. Gir was blow torching the new engines to the Cruiser. He looked up when they entered and waved enthusiastically. Dib waved back. He knew that Gir wasn't going to go back to work until he'd waved. Gir gave a small happy squeal and went back to work. Dib glanced at it on his way by. It was… not as straight as he was sure Zim would have liked it; but it was better than it could have been. At least he wasn't trying to blow torch his own foot.

Dib joined Zim at the console. "So, what's the damage?"

"The Cruiser may very well be trashed…" Zim said. He looked almost sad about that. If it weren't for the fact that it meant making a new and improved version. "But; some things are salvageable."

"That's good. Where are you going to start?" Dib asked. Zim hummed thoughtfully, sending something off on his computer.

"Ordering new metal mixtures, for one," Zim said. He sighed and leaned against the pillar. "In batches…"

"Why batches?"

Zim groaned, picking at his shirt. He'd started to wear more casual clothes as of late; something Dib hadn't commented on, but had made a note that they'd have to go shopping at some point if Zim wasn't making a new base at the college. If he was living the dorm life—and Dib suspected he'd make it happen that they were roommates—then he'd need something of a proper wardrobe.

"Why batches?" Dib repeated.

"Otherwise the Empire will suspect me of building multiple ships." Zim explained. He walked over to the Cruiser. GIR stood up and saluted. Zim took the blow torch from his grasp. "GIR, fetch the compound glue."

"Alright!"

GIR zipped out of the room. Dib cocked an eyebrow at Zim.

"You have compound glue?" he asked. Zim tossed the blow torch into a bin.

"No."

"You know, you can just shut him off once in a while. You used to."

"It gets TOO silent with that." Zim says. He grabbed a different tool and started back towards the Cruiser. Dib nodded. He supposed that made sense.

"What about when you're at college with me?" he asks. Zim paused. He gave a gruff 'huh' as he plugged the device into the Cruiser's control panel and its screen lit up.

"Then, GIR may have to be turned off for a few weeks at a time. Leaving him to his own devices for that long… it wouldn't be a surprise if the base was in shambles if he was."

"Oh, so you ARE coming to the dorms with me?" Dib asked hopefully. Zim smirked.

"Of course. It's an interesting idea for how humans live in these transitionary years."

"Uh huh." Dib ignored Zim's tongue sticking out at him. "Anyway, if we're dorm mates you need a few things. You can pick them up with me when I go shopping. You should probably register for classes with me, too."

"Registering… haven't had to do that since training…"

"It's not the same, just so they can track your credits and give you a degree based on what you learned." Dib explained. "It's not like registering for the military."

"Ah, that makes sense."

Dib hummed, watching him flit through the data on his screen. He leaned against the Cruiser. He was going to miss it. He was sure Zim would tease him for having any kind of attachment to it. It was a machine Zim stole and modified from junk. But; it was still something Dib had liked. He knew he'd be flying in a new one. An improved one. But; he had grown attached to it. He'd even considered giving it a nickname the same way one nicknamed a car. It wasn't even his.

"Hey, Zim, what kind of ship are you building next?" he asked, drumming his fingers on the side. Zim shrugged.

"I have several designs. Haven't chosen one, yet." Zim admitted. "Perhaps—"

Zim jerked, his antennae shooting straight up. Dib tensed, unsure what to do it. That wasn't a normal reaction, alien or not. He bent to see Zim's face. It was tight, strained, and he didn't look pleased. He looked a little confused; and a little… scared? Dib started to panic. A scared Zim was a very bad kind of Zim. That was a very bad sign. Dib pushed himself off the Cruiser.

"Zim?" he asked. Zim's antenna started to lower. He shook himself out with a growl and Dib jumped back. "Uh, Zim?"

Zim growled again, shoving the device into his pocket.

"What happened?"

"A check in."

"A what?"

"The Control Brains just scanned my PAK," Zim says. Venom was lacing his words. Oh, yes, he was pissed. Dib was thankful it wasn't towards him.

"Is that… bad?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," Zim said. He stomped towards the stairs. Dib followed him.

"Why would it be?"

"I'm not sure why they bothered." Zim admitted. "Hasn't happened in over two years."

"Two years?! Is that long? That sounds like a long time."

"It is, typically a long time. Typically, it's every two months, in Earth's time. Perhaps it's because of the ship…" Zim mused. He broke out into the kitchen, where GIR was fiddling with the toaster. He'd already lost track of his duty. Or, he thought it was inside the toaster for some reason. Fine by Zim, if it meant less waffles. "It was… eventful. And took the betterment of two days."

"That would be unusual, I assume?" Dib asked. Zim nodded. He opened a shoot to the base and stepped on. Dib followed again.

"I'd be quicker to say it's unusual that they're still monitoring my PAK on some level." Zim said. Dib regarded him. His voice was strained.

"Zim, are you okay?" Dib asked. Zim paused.

"Contemplating something."

"Contemplating what?"

"… Zim is…. Wondering… if perhaps disconnecting the PAK's signal from The Control Brains is…. An intelligent decision." Zim said, choosing his words carefully. Dib blanched at him.

"Is that even safe?"

"Well, it's not been done more than a handful of times, when it wasn't a death." Zim explained. "Irken history doesn't have a lot about it."

"And I doubt that there's a manual on how to do that," Dib guesses. Zim was already nodding before he had finished. He waved his hand with a sigh.

"It could trigger a scout team, regardless."

"Why? I thought they had…" Dib trailed off, hyper aware of the sore subject matter. He didn't have to finish, regardless. "Um…"

"…Irken biology is synced with Irken technology. Given an Irken is captured—and doesn't self-destruct or acidify—a scout team is sent to retrieve the corpse." Zim explained. He paused, gesturing. "The 'perceived' corpse."

"So, prisoners of war, for example. Would be broken out just because of that?" Dib asks. Zim nods.

"Regardless if they're alive or not."

"That's… really extreme. Couldn't that kick start a war?"

"It has in the past. That said; the information gained from experimentation would be too valuable." Zim says. He started to sound like he wasn't paying full attention. Dib set his hand on Zim's shoulder and Zim froze. He turned, his antennae twitching curiously.

"You're doing a sweep on your PAK?" Dib asked. Zim blinked at him.

"I'm… surprised you figured that out."

"Well, I've gotten to know you pretty well," Dib says proudly. He puffs his collar and Zim blows at raspberry at him. Dib ignored it.

They disembarked into the labs. Dib followed Zim almost mindlessly as he navigated his own base. Dib was still floored at how large it had gotten. He'd been mapping it out for years; but he wasn't sure he'd even covered half the actual size of the base. Main portions as well as inner rooms made it quite the maze. He was fairly certain Zim had either walked the halls freely enough to have them memorized, or the PAK was guiding him. Dib was a little jealous at the prospect of a built in GPS in his brain.

Zim ducked down a hallway Dib recognized. Zim stopped in one of his more computer-based labs. He stopped at a table and disconnected his PAK. Dib couldn't help the instinctive jerk of discomfort and—maybe—mild disgust. Like watching an alien perform their own brain surgery. It was… unsettling. Dib doubted he'd have been as disturbed if he hadn't already come to terms with how much of a major organ the PAK essentially functioned as. If it were just a machine, he'd have not blinked an eye. Right now he was contemplating closing his eyes as Zim placed it gingerly on the table, cables up.

"U-um, Zim?"

"Yes?"

"…You disconnected your… life support."

"…Yes." Zim looked at him quizzically. Dib just waved his arms at the PAK.

"UM!"

"Oh. I'll be fine. I have a time frame to adhere to; but, I'll be fine," Zim says. Dib looked around the room. He paused, turning back to Zim, gears turning in his head.

"Zim… what exactly are you doing to your PAK?" Dib asks. Zim pursed his lips in that way that Dib had recognized as a tell he was about to fib to him.

"Nothing too dangerous."

Or, an outright lie.

Dib grabbed at Zim's hand, pulling it away from his PAK. Zim looked at him only a second before his antenna deflated and he tore his hand away. "FINE. I'm trying to see if I can block some of the information from being read by the Control Brains."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"….Give the PAK a small electrical shock to open its ports…" Zim began. Dib puffed up his chest, fully intent on screaming his throat raw, when Zim punched him in the chest and Dib lost all his breath. As he was gasping to catch his breath again, Zim continued. "And, once inside, I can modify the information types available to the Control Brains. Simply put, I'm modding my PAK to hide certain information without direct access to the ports."

Dib coughed, righting himself. Zim smirked at his attempt to look as if he were less affected than he was.

"Well, in that case, can't you do it any other way?" Dib asked.

"The PAK is incredibly complex, even by Irken standards. This is the fastest way. I won't feel any pain, it's already detached." Zim assured him. Dib looked uncertainly at the PAK.

"You don't… have a spare," Dib said simply. Zim's antennae twitched.

"No."

"So. If it goes wrong-"

"It won't. PAK's are durable." Zim said. Dib was in the process of taking a breath, when he caught Zim's hand shoot out and grab the electrical cable. He had shocked the PAK before Dib had a chance to fill his lungs with air. Sometimes, Dib really hated Zim.

Zim got to work immediately, opening a tiny panel from the center of the PAK. Dib watched him, taking in the inner workings of the PAK. It looked, aesthetically, much like the designs of the base and other Irken technology that Dib had seen. He noticed a few items tucked into the bottom curve, where the must have stored them. Everything became incredibly compact inside the PAK, folding in on themselves to fit into the small space. He was looking at the mechanics of the PAK, portions he could only guess were what supplemented the organic functions of the Irken body; and was becoming totally lost. If Zim had ever asked him to compare what it had felt like, it had felt like being handed an advanced physics textbook as reading material with no prior knowledge of the field. He was undeniably fascinated; and utterly lost on where to start.

Zim picked his PAK up, flipping it around and letting the mechanical hands of the base take it up and resituate it onto his back. He sighed contently, his almost sickly complexion clearing up already. Dib hadn't even noticed the green skin turning ashen. He shuffled nervously on his feet.

"You're ok?"

"Of course."

"It's working properly?"

"Of course?"

"Okay, great, I have so many questions—"

"Damn it, Dib, you single minded ape."

"IT'S ALIEN TECHNOLOGY, ZIM!"

"IT'S A PAK!"

"I DON'T HAVE A SECOND BODY ATTATCHED TO ME WITH LASERS!" Dib shouted, losing himself to a fit of laughter. Zim sighed, but he was smiling.

"Okay, what?"

"I'll keep it to one question for now. What information did you privatize?"

"Ah. Well, I don't want them knowing about you, any more than they already do. That said, that should have been done BEFORE you and I had exchanged so much information…" Zim grumbled. Dib's face paled.

"A-ah… um… am I gonna… be, uh… …. 'taken care of'?" Dib asked, already sweating. Zim stared at him, seriously considering the possibility. He hummed, cupping his chin in his hand.

"Perhaps not. You're just one human. For all they know, I may be trying to recruit you. It's happened before with other species." Zim explained.

"I don't think I can just blindly rely on that."

"It's the best you've got." Zim said plainly. Dib had to admit—Zim had a point.

"Alright, fine. In that case. I want to go get a burger—stop making that face—and some milk shakes—yep, there's the smile—and I'll even pay." Dib offered. He felt Zim grab his hand and start to pull him out before he had even finished the word 'pay'.

"I'm ordering six," Zim warned.