I had so much fun with this chapter—I loved being able to finally figure out how the base could look; but keeping it vague enough that people can imagine largely what they think would fit best—and I had a LOT of fun just writing it in general and finally getting to this plot beat for this fic! Ya know how long I've wanted to write anything to do with a Goblin-esque Space Market? Ever since I saw that one Hellboy movie. God, I love Goblin Markets. They're fun and crazy.
I see I've gained more readers, so Imma plug the tumblr blog again! Come on down, new readers, and join the club at curiousdibandbeyond at tumblr!
Enjoy!
Part 61: Space Market: Launch
Dib twirled his pen around in his fingers, glaring down at the homework sat in front of him. Of all the electives he'd taken, he was hating Microbial Biology the most. But darn it he needed it. If there was one thing that every scientist going into a space field to study aliens or alien planets should learn about, it was probably microbes. Dib just wished his professor made them more fun to learn about.
He hummed, his gaze drifting through the archway door into the kitchen where Zim was hunched over at the table. Dib could see his jacket peeking out from either side of Zim but he couldn't see what Zim was actually doing. A jean jacket was stuffed in a box beside him. Dib considered trying to sneak a peek again, but he couldn't get past Zim's hearing well enough to sneak even a glance before a PAK leg would shoot out and lift him bodily by his shirt back to the couch. The last time, it had tapped twice on the coffee table at his homework and Dib had seen Zim snickering at the table. Even asking Zim to fetch him his thermos hadn't worked—Zim had taken the jacket and stuffed it in the box and taken the box with him to fetch the thermos just so Dib couldn't see inside while he was gone.
Dib had given up trying to sneak a peek after that.
"Dib."
Dib shot up, almost flinging his pen across the room. "Are you done?"
"Yes," Zim says proudly. He folded the jacket up and dropped it into the box, sliding the lid closed. Dib deflated a little. He really hoped it wasn't actually going to take until his birthday—or Christmas—for Zim to give him the jacket. "Where is Gaz?"
"In class for…." Dib checked his watch, humming. "Ten more minutes."
"Excellent. Get your shoes on, we're picking her up," Zim says. Dib glanced only briefly at his homework before abandoning it entirely. He had all weekend to work on it.
Dib snatched his car keys on the way out the door. Zim had veered towards the front door as opposed to any of the other lab entrances. Dib sat himself in the front seat, shooting Gaz a text before Zim had climbed in the passenger side, setting the box in the backseat. Dib caught sight of Gir prancing out of the front door towards the car. He turned to Zim expectantly.
"Are we bringing him?" he asks. Zim sighed, rolling his window down.
"Might as well. Gir! This side."
Gir jumped up, pulling himself through the window and into Zim's lap. Zim rolled the window back up before the robot could try sneaking out again for any reason.
"Hi, Mary! How you doooooiiiing?"
Gir's shrill voice was never something Dib thought he'd be able to get used to before he started to spend so long around Zim's base. Despite the octave still taking some adjustment most of the time, Dib was starting to grow fond of Gir's voice. He smiled down at him.
"I'm doing great, Gir."
He started for the house, stopping only once to get milkshakes when both Zim and Gir spotted the Milk Galaxy sign and demanded he do so. How a robot was supposed to eat a milkshake without destroy itself in the process Dib wasn't sure. But, Gir ate a lot of things he shouldn't have and didn't break, so he doubted a milkshake would really break the pattern. Zim had, of course, ordered three milkshakes and downed two of them by the time Dib had finished one. Gaz raised a brow, sitting on the front stoop on her phone, when they pulled up and Dib was carrying five milkshake cups as he left the car.
"Did he drink all of those?" she asks, turning the knob for him. Dib shouldered the door the rest of the way open.
"No, but he had most of them."
Gaz looked impressed. She walked to the car, leaning against the door. She bent down to see Gir laying over Zim's head. Zim looked entirely used to the shenanigan, which wasn't exactly surprising knowing how Gir could be. She had the sneaking suspicion that Zim was just grateful that Gir wasn't tugging at his antennae or screaming. Zim turned to her, shooting her a finger gun and Gaz smirked.
"Aw, look at you, learning."
"Don't patronize me."
"I will do as I please," Gaz says, sitting in the back. Dib fell back into the driver's side with a sigh.
"Okay, where are we going?" he asks. Gaz gave him an incredulous look.
"You don't know?" she asks. "Why am I even here?"
Zim smirked, looing a little more devilish than Gaz would have liked, before he reached back and grabbed the box next to her. He slid the lid off, tossing the jacket to Dib and the jean jacket to Gaz. Dib unfolded it with a fervor only to find that nothing was different to the front. He turned it around, spotting stitching poking through the inside. An Irken insignia was sewn into the back of the jacket. It was completely stitched into the fabric, made only of thread. Dib stared at it a moment, looking back to Gaz curiously. She glanced up at him, turning the jean jacket around to show she had the same insignia on the back.
"Zim, you sewed these yourself?" Dib asks.
"That is a stupid question."
"But why? … And why did you steal my jacket but got Gaz a whole new one?" Dib asks, pointing at the jean jacket accusingly. Gaz smirked, slipping it on. It was a perfect fit.
"I was not entering her room," Zim says sternly.
"Good alien."
"DON'T PATRONIZE ME. Either way, you'll need them where we're going. Get us back to the house," Zim orders. Dib stepped out of the car. "Hey! I will not be driving this smelly machine!"
Dib slipped his old trench coat off, replacing it with the jacket, and sat back in the car. He tossed his own trench coat into the backseat. Zim was silent a moment, flushed in embarrassment, before he tossed the box into the backseat as well.
"Aaaaw, you're wearing his present!" Gir squealed. Zim's blush spread and he tore Gir off his head.
"QUIET."
"Let the robot gush," Gaz teases, pressing her heel into Zim's seat.
"No."
"You're a terrible parent."
"I am not a parent."
"Get the joke."
Dib let them banter, shifting every so often to adjust in the seat until he was finally able to settle down in the jacket. It fit him better than before, which was strange, given it was from his own closet. Zim had made adjustments to the seams. It hugged his body more, better matching the fit of Gaz's jean jacket than the typical trench coat. By the time they'd made it back to the house, Gaz was resting her legs over Zim's seat with her boots on either side of his screaming head, and Gaz looked far too smug about it.
"Get your filthy boots away from my head!" Zim screeched. Gir was hanging off her heels, swaying lightly between them, his feet occasionally bumping against Zim's chest. Dib didn't' even try to hide his laughter. "Traitor! Help me!"
"You're not dying," Dib says.
"You—you—! What is it humans say…" Zim trailed off. He snapped his fingers. "JUDAS!"
Dib laughed, parking the car in the driveway, wheezing. "You don't even know what that means!"
"It means traitor," Zim says, ducking under Gaz's heel and out the door. Gaz finally took her feet back. Gir knocked against the seat, falling into it once he lost his grip on her shoes. He whined at the loss. Gaz scooped him up, carrying him like a teddy-bear into the house.
"Where's Gir's disguise?" she asks, already opening the coat closet.
"He doesn't need it," Zim says.
He tentatively grabbed her sleeve and started guiding her to the hallway. Dib followed, double checking the door was locked, to the linen closet. Gaz looked at Zim like he'd somewhat lost it until he reached up above the inner doorframe and she heard a button click. The shelves lifted upward into the ceiling, showing an elevator behind them, illuminated by the same tube and lights from Zim's old base. Zim presented proudly, like a child presenting an art piece they'd crafted.
Gaz nodded with a proud smirk. She stepped inside and noted how they could all fit with enough room to keep it from being too confining. The ride down was a short one—just past the basement if she was guessing right—before the doors opened again.
"Computer!"
"You have him set up already?" Gaz asks.
"What?"
"I guess so."
"Prepare the Voot." Zim orders. There was a beep and the speaker cut out. Dib looked around the hallway, taking it all in.
Gaz was surprised he hadn't gotten a chance to look around before now. The halls themselves were much sleeker than the previous incarnation of the base. The walls weren't even as red as they had been before. Rather, they were far closer to the color of steel. The design of the walls had stayed largely the same, however. The tubing and cables still lined the ceiling and floor, along with the dots of lights, and with haphazard layouts of the panels. Gaz noted the highlights of blue laden amongst the walling and doorways. Most of the rooms had been modified in some similar manner, and Gaz could see that the layout was already more streamlined on top of it. Some of the rooms, however, were the same as before.
"Did you just… port some of these rooms straight from the old base?" she asks.
"It was too much hassle to dismantle them," Zim says, waving his hand at the doorway to the console room. He tapped at a pad on the wall and the door slid shut.
"Why the impromptu tour?" Gaz asks. Dib rushed past her, looking into each room far too quickly to really take any of them in, but he lived upstairs now so he had time to do that later. "Aside from watching Dib lose his shit."
"While that is fun," Zim begins, banking left down another hall, "I needed to grab some things."
"…Your uniform, maybe?" Gaz prompts.
Zim paused, looking down at the clothes he'd stolen from Dib months ago and modified to fit his PAK. The black jeans were almost the same shade as his old uniform's pants, Gaz had almost missed that he'd stopped wearing his old uniform because of it, until he started to steal some of Dib's shirts on top of the small wardrobe he'd been slowly forming. Zim ran his hand over the ghost on the shirt and hummed distastefully. He really didn't want to change.
"No, but you make a good point," he relented. He sighed, turning right back around. Dib was passing the doorway as he exited. Zim grabbed the back of his coat collar and dragged him along with him down the hall.
"I'm just saying… we're going to be waring these jackets, and I have a feeling there's a good reason as to why," Gaz prompts.
Zim stopped in front of a seemingly random door and pressed the pad to open it. He released Dib and ducked inside. Gaz backed up across the hall, slyly doing the same to the doorway behind her. She pressed her palm to the panel and the doo slid open. She repeated the motion and it closed again. She paused, looking down at Gir, who was kicking his legs. Gaz double checked Dib wasn't paying attention—he was busy poking fun at the fact of Zim's wardrobe was stolen shirts—and tried again with Gir's hand instead. The door remained sealed.
"Huh. Nice," she muttered. She bumped shoulders with Dib, filling up the door space. "Oi, how does Gir open the doors?"
"He has a sensor he can activate," Zim shouted back at her, moving through rows of hanging shirts. Gaz snorted, covering her mouth, once she realized it really was half the closet that was Dib's "missing" shirts.
"You know, I'm going to have to steal some of your shirts as payback," Dib says.
"He's smaller than you are," Gaz says. "Would they even fit?"
"Well, he cut holes in all of mine, so what else am I gonna do?"
"…Wouldn't that mean there's holes in all of his, too?" Gaz prompts. She heard Zim snap, catching sight of his hand snapping over the rows of clothing.
"No! Not all of them!" Dib declares. He snatched a few off the rack nearest to him. "He kept some of the backs untouched."
Dib hesitated. He set all but one shirt back, slinging it over his shoulder. Gaz blinked at him slowly. She shook her head at him, giving him a look.
"What?"
"You. That's what."
"Found it!" Zim shouted.
Both siblings saw the old uniform top fly over the racks as Zim lifted it up. Soon, it was disappearing again, and the ghost top was flung across the room towards the laundry baskets. Zim sighed, pulling it over him as he stepped out of the rows of clothing. He shook it out, feeling it down the fabric so it would fall into place. Gaz flicked her gaze to Dib, who was only partially turned away, face red. She smirked devilishly at him. Dib held up his finger.
"Don't even say it," he whispered.
"Mmhmm." Gaz's smirk widened. "I thought you weren't into any of that at all."
"Not… the really intimate stuff," Dib whispers. He caught Gaz's smirk and glowered. "Do not."
Gaz just smiled at him, turning out the door. Gir was squealing like a child in her arms, his words incomprehensible. Zim came up to Dib, looking about as clueless as Gaz suspected he was. If it weren't for his hearing, she would have bought that he hadn't heard anything.
"What?" Zim asked.
"Nothing, let's go," Dib says hastily. Zim caught sight of the shirt and snatched off his shoulder, making him stumble backward. Zim wrapped his free arm around Dib and held him there, dangling the shirt in front of him.
"Try harder," Zim says. He threw the shirt onto the rack, leaving it for hanging later, and dragged Dib out with him.
Gaz waited at the elevator, rocking on her heels until Zim deposited Dib beside her. Gir wriggled free form her arms, dropping on Dib's back. Dib grunted; but didn't move. Gir sat on him, smiling up at Zim like a dog waiting for a treat.
"Good job, Gir. Just stay there," Zim says.
"Yessir!"
"HuH?!" Dib's head shot up. Gir rolled back, knocking his head against Dib's and forcing it back down. "Hey! Get off, Gir."
"Sorry, Mary, Master says no~!"
Zim walked away, chuckling. Dib pointed down the hall at him. "That's cheating!"
"Just try harder another time, it's not that hard!"
"Try what?" Gaz asks. She knelt down to Dib. She watched Zim until he disappeared behind a door. She turned back to Dib, dropping her voice to a whisper. "Flirting?"
Dib thrashed, throwing Gir off and sitting up, red in the face all the way down to his neck. Gir wailed, failing to tackled Dib back down onto the ground, settling with climbing up onto his shoulders instead.
"You stop that," Dib says, glaring at Gaz, and utterly ignoring Gir trying to climb onto his head. Gaz patted Gir's head, calming him down.
"So long as Dib doesn't leave this area of the hall, I think you're fine, Gir," she says. That seemed to pacify the robot. "Dib wants to steal Zim's shirts. Nothing else, I'm sure."
"Oh! Like the movies!" Gir says cheerfully. Gaz blinked at him.
"What movies?"
"The ones where hyumans kiss!" Gir says just as cheerfully. Dib pulled him down, trying to cover the robot's mouth.
"Shh!"
Gir tilted his head, laughing. Gaz held Gir's head steady. "Hey, what's Zim think of those movies?"
"He likes them!" Gir announces. Dib buried his head in his arm. "But he always leaves at the kissing. His face gets all dark!"
"Oh, is that so?" Gaz asks coyly.
"Oh my God, I'm begging you to stop," Dib pleaded. Gaz heard the door at the end of the hall slide open again and she stood. She turned to greet Zim, spying him stashing a few things in his PAK.
"What did you need to get so badly?" she asks.
"The equivalent of a wallet," Zim says. "Most alien species that joined the Collective Union have the same currency when they go off-planet. Irkens use the same currency for convenience, and also—what is wrong with him?"
"Nothing, let's go," Gaz says. Zim narrowed his eyes at her, flicking his gaze between the two. "Get on the elevator."
Neither boy needed to be told twice. Gir still clung onto Dib's shoulders until Zim gently pulled him off, congratulating him on keeping Dib captive. Zim lead them to the garage, where the Voot was being fueled. Zim set a stepping stool in front of the Voot, using his own PAK legs to get inside. Dib used the stool, tumbling down inside over the opening of the windshield. Gaz climbed in after him.
She watched the two as they took up their spaces. Zim in the pilot's seat—obviously—and Dib on a cushioned seat nearby. She didn't see much space left to explore and so took up the other side of the seat. It wasn't particularly large, but it was enough that she wasn't forced to sit right up against him. Gaz was aware the Voot had always been small. She doubted that Zim could make it bigger on the inside—she'd prefer he just built an entirely new ship if he was going to do that. He could even make the backyard of the house lift up for takeoff—she'd have to remember to tell him that.
"So why the jackets?" Gaz asks. "What would they be useful for?"
Zim perked up, shutting the Voot's windshield and hitting the garage door opener he'd strapped to the control panel. Dib pulled Gaz close and clutched the side of the seat as the Voot blasted out of the garage and into the sky. Gaz would vehemently deny she screamed if anyone ever asked. Dib gave her one look when the Voot slowed down and Gaz glared at both of them, beet red in the face.
"I'll destroy you both if you breath a word of that," she says.
"I heard nothing," Zim quickly says.
Smart alien, Gaz thinks.
"The insignia deters a lot of trouble," Zim says. Gaz was ready to retort up until she realized they'd passed the threshold of the Earth's atmosphere. The smallest lift in gravity before it settled again confirmed it for her. Gaz stared out the window for a long time before Zim's voice broke her out of it.
"—az? Gaz? GAZ!"
"What the fuck, Zim?!" Gaz screamed. Zim almost fell out of his chair at the outburst. Gaz snatched Gir off of Dib and threw him at Zim, knocking Zim to the floor. Only one foot remained in the chair. "I didn't sign up for a space ride!"
Zim pushed Gir off, sitting up to glare at her. "Why else would I give you the jackets?!"
"Why do you think I was asking?" Gaz shoots back. Zim tossed Gir back at her. She caught the tiny robot with ease, sending him right back like a football with hardly a pause. Gir, soaring through the air as Zim was trying to stand, hit him square in the gut and sending Zim back down to the floor. "You'd better be taking us somewhere worthwhile. I'm not stepping off this ship if it's to some vacant planet."
"Gaz, he can't answer if you keep throwing a hyperactive robot at him," Dib says tiredly. Zim had curled up, hugging his gut. Gir was poking at him curiously.
"…Right."
"You're vile," Zim mumbles.
"What was that?"
"We're going to a Market," Zim says, sitting up. He fell back into the pilot's seat with a grunt. "With other aliens. Hence the jackets. Ow."
"Why would that work?"
"You really think any alien is going to risk pissing off an Irken, or Irken ally, at the Marketplace? Even what others would consider civilian class Irkens have a small armory built into their ships," Zim says. He pointed to his PAK. "This identifies me plenty and yours aren't ready."
"Hey, speaking of those," Dib began, refusing to tear his eyes off the space outside. "Are they removable? I know that you can't really go without yours for too long."
"You can be sure that they'll be removable," Zim says. He set something into the control panel. The Voot started to slowly speed up. Gaz held onto the seat with a vice grip. She could feel herself slipping just slightly on the cushion and anchored her feet.
"I'd appreciate it," she says. There was a strain to her voice as she tried to keep her feet braced.
"Are we warping?" Dib asks excitedly. Gaz elbowed him in the ribs.
"Yes, it's the fastest way. We're building up speed very slowly, comparatively, however." Zim says. "You'd go flying into the back of the Voot if I didn't."
"Install some freaking seatbelts, then."
"I'll be sure to do that," Zim says, not even turning to them.
Gaz couldn't be sure if he was being serious or not and that annoyed her a little. Really, though, she wasn't sure how often she'd really be climbing into the Voot. Space travel wasn't exactly something she was ravenous for like Dib. Going outside every day wasn't on her list of things to do for fun, either. If there was one thing she could say, it was that her body was managing to adjust to the increasing speed better than she thought it would.
"Wait do we have suits to wear?" Dib asks. Zim hit a button and one of the wall panels slid open. The masks resting on the panel looked like an oxygen mask, if Dib were honest. They had an undeniably Irken aesthetic to them. Gaz picked one up.
"This it?" Gaz asks. Dib picked up the other, turning it over a moment before switching the masks for the one Gaz held and fit it to his face. It was a perfect match, suctioning to his face. The tube leading from it dangled and Zim snorted.
"You look like an elephant," he says. Dib pried the mask off, the pop of the suction getting another snicker from Zim, and he held it the mask out of Gir's reach. The robot tried Gaz's mask next and she grabbed him, pulling him close and pinning the robot's arms so he couldn't snatch it.
"No fair!" Gir whined.
"You'll have an attachment that produces oxygen," Zim says.
He hit another button and another panel slid out of the wall. The small devices that hung on the panel looked to just be boxes. Boxes that Dib noted he could hang on his pants waistband, but boxes nonetheless. Only a few buttons were on the sides, and were inset in the sides, and there was one port where the masks' tube connected. Zim held them up, turning them over proudly.
"Until I finish your PAKs, if we go to a planet with a harsher atmosphere, you will use these," Zim says.
He was absolutely beaming as he showed it off. Dib wasn't paying much attention to the actual science of it all—half the words Zim said he used Irken when he couldn't immediately think of the English word for it so he could only follow the explanation for so long regardless—instead thinking of joining Zim in the labs to do his homework like he used to. He missed seeing just how excited Zim got with inventing. The alien's eyes just lit up at every instance he got to share inventions. Dib had noticed when Zim was renovating the house that he'd been far more energized and excited when he was busying himself with it compared to the previous weeks.
The Goblin Space Market, as Dib had started calling it the instant that he spotted it as they neared, was far bigger than Gaz or Dib would have anticipated. The Market itself was built on a gravity machine—Zim had flown into another lecture of how that had worked but with all the Irken he was using neither sibling could really follow what he was saying—but from what they could make out it meant that they wouldn't float to the ceiling of the giant ship. The Market itself was streets and streets of stalls and towers set into a massive spaceship. In Dib's opinion the 'ship' looked more like a space station than anything else—set to drift in space with a few thrusters on various sides to keep it relatively in place in its orbit.
The towers themselves were full of other kinds of businesses. Dib could see empty rooms with different variations of beds through the windows of several of the towers as Zim flew them through the buildings. The towers took up less than half the entire station. What really took up the majority was the parking garages and street vendor stalls. Zim coasted around the parking garages, looking for a space relatively far from the mass of ships that clogged the nearest spaces. The amount of designs alone was keeping Dib's attention and sending him sprinting back and forth from one side of the Voot's windshield o the other just to see them all.
"This is amazing. This is the best day of my life. This cannot be topped."
"This is going to rock your nerdy world, we get it," Gaz groaned. Dib ignored her, focused on looking at the ship closets to the Voot as Zim parked it. He set up their masks and oxygen converters and stood back to be sure they wouldn't snag on their arms as they walked.
"You should be ready," he says, pushing the first button on each box. "I already calibrated them, so they should work immediately. If you need an adjustment let me know."
"And I'm assuming we don't press any of the buttons so we don't accidently push them off," Dib says. Zim gave him an exasperated look. "So, yes."
"What do you think?" Zim asks, pushing the windshield open. Dib was first to jump out of the Voot, beat only by Gir flying out via his rockets. "GIR YOU HAD BETTER BE BACK HERE BY THREE HOURS!"
Gir squealed something back. Zim just hoped that he had agreed. Gir had misinterpreted an order more than once in the past. Zim would just have to track him if the need arose. Gaz hopped down, landing expertly beside Dib and Zim, sending up a small plume of dust. She brushed off her shoes and hummed.
"Are we going to have to do a decontamination before we get back home?" she asks. When Zim gave her a curious look, she looked annoyed. "Space germs, idiot. There's germs on Earth that are old enough to wipe us out—don't give me that look, they're frozen in dinosaur ice, it's fine—so don't tell me that shit ain't possible with some alien's germs."
Zim still recoiled at the mere thought of having to combat any more germs on Earth—so many aspects of that planet was built to be an Irken's personal Hell. Zim had already determined a long time ago that if any species was going to conquer Earth (without just blowing it to smithereens) it would be Irkens—most other species were doomed to fail if an Irken was having this much trouble. He shuddered and waved Gaz's concern off.
"You'll see at the gates. They have decontamination chambers going in and coming out."
"And they won't melt us?" Dib asks, only sounding like he was partly joking. Zim sighed, looking at him in exasperation.
"You humans make too many alien movies…"
"No, we don't make enough," Dib counters. He could see the decidedly varied architecture from here and he was vibrating with excitement.
"The chambers are fine. Just step in, let it spray you down with the disinfectant, and walk out," Zim says. "You don't even have to talk to anyone."
True to his word, Dib wasn't going to be speaking any aliens at the moment. The gates were set into a massive wall that surrounded the main market area. He could see at least a dozen or so entrances and exits alike along the wall. The siblings simply followed Zim through one of the gates. Dib caught the nervous glances of several aliens once Zim passed by them before they sharply turned away. Gaz caught slightly bewildered looks from various others when Dib passed through the gate and they caught sight of the insignia. Or, she assumed they were based on the body language. She was guessing at best—alien anatomy made it hard to really tell. Either way, she could feel the same kinds of looks at her back and she didn't mind at all.
The chamber itself was a box, lit up on the inside by rows and rows of lights and small dispensers. She stood stock still, lifting her arms out like Zim and Dib had, and the chamber sprayed her down. When it was done some of her hair was sticking to her face. She wiped it way, joining the two boys and glowering. She flicked the excess disinfectant at them.
"I wasn't expecting a shower."
"It wasn't a shower, it was like a misting arch," Dib says. He ran his hand through his hair, which was just as wet as Gaz's. "A very intense misting arch…"
"You'll dry off. Let's go." Zim pulled them along by their sleeves.
Gaz wrenched her arm free, spotting a very familiar flying SIR unit that was still dripping the spray off his metal hanging from a streetlamp. The lamp itself was more of a glowing, almost gelatinous looking, bulb on the top of an ornate pole. Gir was hanging from the edge of one of the design's bumps. He caught sight of them and dropped down. Gaz felt Gir latch onto her leg before she could see him through the crowd.
"Found your robot," she says.
"I saw."
Gaz lowered her free hand and Gir latched on, aiding her in lifting him up so she could hold him. "Does he always run off like that when you come to these?"
"Usually," Zim groans. Once they were away from the flood of bodies at the entrance gates and in among the stalls proper he let the two of the go. Zim turned swiftly, giving Gir a glance before he waved his hand around. "Pick a stall. The ones I want to visit are further in, but you can look over these now."
"And… we can get anything we want?" Dib asks excitedly. Zim narrowed his eyes at him a moment.
"… I approve it first—" Zim started. He had hardly finished before Dib was rushing way to the nearest stall. It wasn't even one with the gadgets or trinkets that Zim would have expected him to gravitate towards.
Dib looked over the lines and lines of alien food on the shelves. The language on the stall wasn't something he could read. The alien merchant was trying to talk to Dib, but all Dib heard was some chirps. The alien flicked something on a collar on its neck, a receiver set into what Dib could only assume was its 'ear'. The chirps turned into a different sound. Zim came up beside him, speaking the same kind of garbled noise.
"That's cool," Dib whispers. The merchant turned to grab one of the fish and Zim smirked.
"I do recall mentioning PAKs encompassed many languages, yes?"
"What if you can't speak it, like how we can't fully speak Irken?"
"The collars help with that," Zim says. Dib hummed, looking around the stall. Zim took the bagged 'fish' and pulled him along.
"Each stall looks so different," Dib says. Some were set into the already established architecture. Others were set up between the obviously old, intended spots with makeshift posts, draping fabrics, and pop up tables and shelves. All in all, it looked quite a bit like a farmer's market or convention—if said farmer's market had the potential variety of an entire galaxy backing it.
"The stalls are in plots. The venders only stay as long as they want and then leave when they're done," Zim says. "They're constantly switching out."
"Is that why they look so haphazardly set up, too?" Gaz asks. Zim nodded, spotting a stall the two might like. He stopped in front of it, letting Dib pour over the displays.
The table was full of trinkets. He couldn't even identify what any of the handmade bowls, cups, or tiny statues were made of. He picked up one that must have been an alien animal, like the trinkets he'd see at a tourist trap, and held it up to Gaz.
"What do you think this is?"
"The equivalent of a bear."
"You didn't even look at it. It doesn't look anything like that," Dib says, turning it over in his hand. He hesitated a moment and held it out to the merchant. Zim passed his card over the table.
"You're just getting one thing?" Zim asks.
"It looks like a tardigrade," Dib says, holding it up fondly. Zim wasn't entirely sure what that was, but he couldn't really refute it.
"You can get almost anything you want, you know."
"Anything?" Gaz prompts. Zim looked conflicted.
"…Maybe."
"They have games here?"
"…I'll get you a console to play them on if you find one you can make anything of," Zim says. He pointed to a booth down the street, with neon signs over the front, and Gaz was rushing away without a word. Zim sighed, tugging Dib along with him after he got a hold of the trinket. "She wastes no time at all."
"She's enthusiastic."
Gaz was picking up and putting down various games in different holders. Some were like on Earth, with the cover and clasps or slots that clicked when you pulled it open. Others were just cartridges. Some were small devices entirely and Dib wondered if they were to be attached to something else. The vendor was something insectoid—though in Dib's opinion it looked more like a roach than anything else. It didn't seem too concerned with Zim being at the stall.
Zim hummed, looking down the street to where one of the stalls he had been meaning to visit was set up. Zim's PAK produced one of the Translator Collars and he held it up to Dib. Dib took it, rolling it over in his hands. Zim stuck the earpiece into his ear, swatting away Dib's hand when it came up to push his own away.
"Hold still," Zim orders. The stall vendor looked a little more anxious—based on how he started to fidget—at Zim's annoyed tone.
Dib sighed, letting him finish with the earpiece if only to keep the vendor from getting any more antsy. Zim connected it to the Translator Collar. Before Dib could stop him, he snatched the collar from Dib's hands and clasped it around his neck. The click of the collar and the beep of it activating drew Gaz's attention. She snorted, covering her mouth and trying hard not to laugh. Dib shot her a venomous glare.
"Hey, have another one of these?" Dib asks, staring Gaz down and toying with the collar. Gaz gaped at him, horrified. Zim smirked.
"No, unfortunately, just the one," he says, sounding far too smug. Dib groaned loudly. Zim flicked one of his cards out, handing it out to Dib. Dib snatched it up with a huff. "Don't buy any food or anything that looks explosive. Most fabrics should be fine. Any small devices you purchase do not mess with them until I can review them. If they have a white sticker on them it means they're radioactive and I'm unsure how much radioactivity is safe for a human so do not touch them—they're usually in glass containment boxes. I'll be back. Meet me at the ship in two hours if we don't meet up before then."
"Got it." Dib gave him a thumbs up before returning to the stall. Zim waved him off and disappeared into the crowd. Gir chased after him with a squeal before blasting off into one of the upper towers.
"Hey," Gaz elbowed him, waving her hand over the table. "Ask him what I need to play this game."
"Uh…" Dib looked up at the vendor, who tilted their head curiously at him. "…What does she need to play this game? Do you have the console?"
The alien stared at him a moment before his antennae flicked and a chorus of chirping came out. As the vendor held up a device, Dib heard a small beep in his earpiece and then a mechanical voice that sounded eerily like The Computer
"THIS 'CONSOLE' PLAYS ALL THE GAMES ON THAT SIDE OF THE TABLE." The voice said. Dib's eyes widened a little.
"U-uh, oh! Oh, thanks!" Dib held the device, turning to Gaz. "He says this one would work for any of the games on this side of the table."
"IS THIS YOUR FIRST MARKET?"
Dib looked up and smiled. "Yeah, it is. Any advice?"
"DO NOT TRUST IRKENS."
Dib faltered a little, his face contorting a little with unease. He looked nervously at Gaz, more of a reflex, until he recalled she couldn't understand the alien. Dib sighed, looking back at the vendor.
"I a-appreciate the concern, but; we're fine," Dib says, flashing a smile. The vendor twitched a little at it and Dib tilted his head. "What?"
"I DID NOT MEAN TO UPSET YOU."
"Upset…? I'm not upset," Dib assures him. Gaz glanced up, five games already in hand. She set them on the table, snatching the card from Dib's hand and holding it out to the vendor. He hesitated a moment before taking it and cashing her out. The vendor handed the bag back to her and looked at Dib.
"YOU BARED YOUR FANGS. I AM SORRY—"
"My smile?" Dib asks.
"…SMILE? WHAT IS A SMILE?"
"Um… it's what I just did?" Dib says slowly. "It doesn't mean I'm angry. It was supposed to be reassuring."
"HOW?"
"What do you mean 'how'? It's a smile—oh. Oh, wait, your species probably doesn't smile. Okay, so a smile is a show of good emotion, not bad ones. Well, usually. Sometimes people smile when they're mad, it's not really something they can control—"
"What the hell are you talking about with him?" Gaz cuts in. In her eyes the alien looked utterly confused.
"Uh—"
"C'mon, dumbass, we're moving on," Gaz says, pulling him along. Once they had passed another few stalls she let his sleeve go. "Why were you trying to explain smiles to an alien that clearly does not have the capacity to do that?"
"He thought I was angry at him," Dib explained. Gaz took a moment, looking over some scarves at a booth and then she laughed. Dib felt the same sense of awe and confusion as the vendor did at the sound. Gaz looked at him like he had lost half his brain cells.
"GOD, you're an idiot," she says. Before Dib could retort she held up her hand to continue. "Dib, what does a dog or a cat do when they're pissed at someone?"
"Cats hiss and dogs bark—"
"No, before that."
"Um… bare their fa… oooooh."
Gaz nodded along with the dawning realization that came across Dib's face. She patted his shoulder and turned back to the scarves, handing the card over once she'd found one she liked. The fabric was far smoother than anything she'd ever held before. She took the card back and walked away without a bag, wrapping the scarf around her neck, and it moved in a swirl around her skin. The fabric looked like it was moving, though it was an illusion. The actual material remained stationary; the lights of the market shifted the colors of the scarf as she walked.
Best purchase ever, she thought. Dib followed her, getting caught at a booth full of small devices. Dib remembered the same awe he felt at the science convention and poured over the booth.
"So, anyway… oh, this looks fun."
"Dib, focus."
"Oh, I'm focusing."
"No, idiot, focus on the topic at hand. We're in a Goblin Space Market, right?" Gaz asks. Dib just answered with an 'uh huh'. Gaz let the distracted response slide. "Just how many species do you think share the same expressions as humans?"
"Probably… uh…. Not a lot, now that I think of it," Dib confesses. He was starting to pile small machines and devices. Gaz picked one up while Dib was distracted with another. It looked like small galaxy blown into the glass orb. It spun on the inside.
"Huh."
"That's kind of expected though, isn't it?" Dib asks. Gaz set the galaxy orb back into the pile he slid across the table to the vendor. "I'll take a box."
"Why is it expected?" Gaz asks.
"Alien customs are going to wildly different from species to species," Dib says. He thanked the vendor and carried the box with him as they explored more stalls.
Dib stopped them short, shooting an arm out to halt Gaz, as Gir flew over them covered in an unidentifiable substance. He was being chased by what looked like a police robot. Gir busted through one of the tower windows and Dib watched as the chaos started to explode inside. Dib blanched up at the tower, hearing someone scream and a soft explosion. Most of the market customers paid it hardly any mind.
"Walk, walk, walk," Gaz said quickly. "Best if Gir doesn't see us."
"Right now, anyway," Dib says, hurrying off. He knew, deep down, that Gir was more than capable of handling himself. Or at the very least, of escaping before they left the market.
At some point they'd wandered into stalls full of clothing and accessories. Most of it wasn't something Gaz could even figure out how she'd be able to try and wear it if she did try to wear it. Following stalls had baskets of fruits, large stone ovens, and various kinds of merchandise that made a fun guessing game. By the time Dib checked his watch they had ten minutes before they had to be at the Voot.
"Oh, crap, we gotta go. We're barely miss the deadline for the Voot," Dib says. Gaz grumbled something as he dragged her from a dessert stand. Alien ice cream would have been an amazing thing to taste test, but it would have to wait for another day.
Gaz felt gipped at the cut off time to explore but relented. She was already carrying a large box of merchandise that she suspected was going to be a challenge depending on how much Zim might be bringing back with him. She caught sight of Gir at one of the exits. He was sitting on the apex of the arch and mocking the guards that were trying to get him down.
"Damn. There is no escape from him, is there?" Gaz asks. Dib looked up and caught sight of Gir. He snickered, shaking his head.
"Those poor guards."
"He's going to fly over to us the second he sees us."
"I bet on it."
"He's not covered in slime at least."
"No, but he definitely pissed off the guards."
Gaz nodded slowly, humming. She held up her hand. "Rock, paper, scissors for who goes first and gets tackled."
Dib sighed heavily. He relented, setting his box down temporarily and joining the game. First round he won, second he lost, and third—to the graces of the universe—he won. Dib stared a second before he barked a laugh and fist pumped the air.
"AHA!"
"Damn it."
"Suck it. Go on, get your robot," Dib says smugly.
"Not my damn robot," Gaz grumbled. She turned to the gate, stopping short at a large slab of leathery fabric in front of her. She took a step back, staring up at the large alien before her. The alien stared back down at her.
"Um. Excuse us," Dib says, picking his box back up. The alien flicked his gaze at Dib's back when he bent down and said something in a gruff voice.
"IRKEN? YOU DON'T LOOK IRKEN."
"Uh, we're not Irkens," Dib says hesitantly. Gaz shot him a look. "But, we traveled here with one."
"MMM. EY, BLASK!"
Dib flicked his gaze to where the alien was shouting and spotted a familiar looking race perked up at a stall. The Vortian caught sight of Gaz and Dib and tilted their head curiously. They marched over and Dib took in the oddly bent legs, thinking of some of the monsters he'd researched back at Earth. The Vortian's horns were pointed right over its head towards them.
"YEAH?"
"THESE TWO ARE TRAVELING WITH AN IRKEN. YOU BELIEVE THAT?"
"…WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT WASTING OUR TIME?"
"I'M NOT—"
"Can we go?" Dib asks. The Vortian regarded him. He shoved the other alien to the side and Gaz shoved past them, shouldering the Vortian. The alien caught the insignia at her back and jumped back into her path.
"I'LL BE! YOU'RE RIGHT!" the Vortian said. Gaz growled, cracking an eye open. "FANCY EYES."
"Dib," Gaz says, her voice full of irritation.
"…yeah?"
"Tell him to move before I make him move," Gaz says. The Vortian chuckled.
"THE LASS CAN'T UNDERSTAND ME, BUT I CAN UNDERSTAND HER JUST FINE," he says. Dib gulped, coming up next to Gaz.
"We only had the one collar," he says quickly. "Gaz, he can understand you just fine."
"Then he should have moved."
"DON'T MEAN TO BE RUDE, BUT MIND TELLING ME WHY YOU'RE WEARING THOSE INSIGNIAS? YOU COULD ATTRACT SOME TROUBLE WITH THOSE ON," the other alien says. "SOME RESISTY TROUBLE."
Dib snorted. "The "Resisty"?"
Gaz scoffed. "That's a dumb name for a Resistance."
"IT IS NOT A DUMB NAME!"
"It is where we're from."
"WELL, WE'RE NOT FROM THE SAME PLACE, ARE WE?" the Vortian asked. "THE RESISTY ARE ENEMIES OF THE IRKEN EMPIRE, YOU KNOW."
"What'd he say?" Gaz asks.
"Members of the Resisty are enemies of Irkens," Dib says. Gaz nodded, looking thoughtful.
"So, that means I can beat him up, right?" Gaz asks. Dib laughed nervously, stepping between Gaz and the Vortian when the Vortian glared at her.
"She didn't mean that."
"I did mean it, don't lie to the poor alien." Gaz says. She looked him up and down. "I could take it."
"LISTEN, CHILD—"
"She didn't mean it," Dib stresses. "Besides, we're trying to leave. So, if you let us pass—"
"HEY, BLASK?"
"WHAT?"
"Move aside. Now."
The Vortian turned, freezing. Zim stared him down, Gir at his side looking gleeful, but his eyes red.