A/N: I mention in this chapter that the characters live in Michigan, which sounds like a completely random state and I must admit it is. But I'm basing it on canon; in Backseat Drivers, Red tracks down the origin of the signal that hacked the Massive, which was of course coming from Zim's base. Here's a screen cap of the origin of the signal:

badbadrubberpiggy. com/images/caps/iz38/large/iz38-01815.jpg (just take out the space in the ". com")

Of course, you can't actually tell where the precise signal is coming from, but it looks like a Michiganish area to me. Please attribute any discrepancies between this fic and what Michigan is really like to the fact that this is Zimworld, where the nation is ruled by President Man and apparently you can take a taxi from the northern border of the United States all the way to Mexico.

Anyway, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and please, please remember to review/comment/critique/whatever! Thank you!

xxxxx

In Short Supply

Bella and Dorito

xxx

"'Go to Bloaty's and gimme a large pepperoni,'" Dib mimicked, glaring at the coupon in his hand: One large single-topping pizza! 1/2 off! Offer good until Sunday January 25. "'Hurry up, the coupon expires in two hours.' 'Why, sure, Gaz, I'd love to go out in the middle of the night to get you a pizza because you forgot to use your coupon earlier!' Yeah, right." He jammed his hands and the coupon in his pockets. "Who makes a coupon expire on the twenty-fifth of a month, anyway?"

As he trudged to Bloaty's, he noticed that someone in a baggy trench coat was lurking outside the restaurant. Hobo, probably. Dib clenched his hands around his coupon and a twenty-dollar bill in his pocket, wondering if this guy would try to jump him.

To his surprise, as he drew closer he recognized the "hobo." "Agent Purple? Is that you?"

He gave Dib a weird look. "Er, if you say so... Hey." He looked closer at Dib. "Aren't you that Mothman?"

"Yeah, that's me!" Dib said. "Did you ever find a way to deal with those vampires?" Dib hadn't seen Purple since before Christmas. He apparently hadn't sprouted fangs, so he'd at least managed to avoid being inducted into the vampires' ranks.

"Oh, yeah!" Purple nodded. "I think we taught them a lesson," he said smugly. Dib wondered who the "we" was. Maybe Purple had voices in his head; the hazards that came with being a Swollen Eyeball agent were many and varied.

"That's... good," Dib said carefully. "So, what brings you to Bloaty's? Any paranormal activities?"

"Uh..." Purple gave Dib another weird look, and pointed into the restaurant. "Just him."

Dib looked inside the restaurant. "Zim's here?! Did you follow him?"

"I... guess. I mean, I didn't find Bloaty's on my own, did I?"

This time Dib gave Purple the weird look. "Okay..." Well, at least he was keeping an eye on Zim. Dib hadn't realized that any other Eyeball agents had taken him seriously about "the Spider," much less that they were having Zim tracked. Dib leaned against the glass doors to look inside; Zim seemed to just be talking to the cashier. Angrily, but still not particularly threateningly. "What's he up to this time? Going to use pizza to take over the world, or something?"

Purple laughed wryly. "He wishes. I think he's trying to get an Earth job." After a moment he added, thoughtfully, "But I wouldn't put a pizza-fueled doom machine past him."

"Yeah, really." Then again, Dib remembered that Zim had been trying to get a job for a few weeks now. Maybe since he didn't have his mission to take over Earth anymore, he wasn't getting paid by his leaders and had to make some extra money? Could he convert Earth money into Irken money? Perhaps he really was just looking for a job. "Okay, thanks. Good work, Agent Purple; I'll take it from here. Keep your eyeball swollen!"

"Er, sure thing," Purple said. As Dib entered the restaurant and the door swung closed, he could have sworn he heard Purple mutter, "Crazy meatbag," but it was probably his imagination.

As soon as he was inside, he stopped, hanging back near the exit to listen to Zim argue with the cashier. "Two puny days a year?! I demand more time than that!"

"Look, that's just what new hires get, okay?" the cashier said. "I started off with two days of vacation and five bucks an hour like everyone else."

"Zim does not care for your bucks," Zim said angrily. "But I need more time off." He emphasized the statement by waving a clenched fist at the cashier. "So much more!"

The cashier looked taken aback. "You don't care about the pay?" he said dumbly. (Dib was hardly surprised to discover that Zim wasn't after money after all, although now he wondered why Zim did want a job. He considered trying to tell the cashier that Zim was more likely to use the pizza ovens to incubate his alien eggs than he was to actually do his job, but decided against it. The cashier could learn the hard way.) "Well... okay, I guess we could start you at fifty cents an hour and nine vacation days a year."

"Ehn..." Zim narrowed his eyes in thought. "Could you put it at no money and ten days?"

"We've gotta pay you something. Labor laws."

Zim growled. "Curse you, labor laws! Okay, fine! I can get more of these 'vacations' with promotions, can't I?"

"Sure." The cashier shrugged.

"Then I accept your offer, Bloaty Drone!"

Dib snickered at the idea of Zim working at Bloaty's for fifty cents an hour. Zim, a minimum-wage slave to the American corporate system. Dib would have to offer to take Gaz to Bloaty's more often just so he could gloat.

"Oh, man." The cashier grinned, reaching under the counter for something. "The boss is gonna love you." He pulled out a card. "This is your ID badge. You can write your name on it or something. You wear it whenever you're on your shift. If you lose it, the next one will be fused to your skin, so don't lose it. I knew a guy who lost six before he learned his lesson."

Dib wondered how someone could lose an ID badge fused to their skin.

Zim accepted the badge and saluted. "When do I report for duty?"

"Well, we're hiring you for the night shift, so you can start tomorrow at ten PM."

"Excellent!" Zim marched to the door, apparently not noticing Dib, sticking his tongue out at one of the mechanical mascots that had scared him so much two years ago. Before leaving, he stopped and declared, "Prepare yourself, Food Service Drone. Beginning tomorrow night your pizzas will be prepared as they've never been prepared before!" He left the restaurant with an evil cackle.

Dib didn't doubt for a moment that Zim would prepare pizzas as they'd never been prepared before. But that probably meant the pizzas would end up radioactive. "He won't last a week," he commented.

The cashier shrugged. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Did he tell you about his allergies? Meat? Water?"

The cashier shrugged again. "That's not so bad. I'm allergic to grease."

"Really? And you're working at Bloaty's?" Dib raised an eyebrow. "What's it do to you?"

"It gives me acne," the cashier said.

Dib skeptically eyed the cashier's pimply face. "I think it does that to everyone..."

"And it makes me impotent."

That was way too much information. Dib cleared his throat. "Er. So, can I use a coupon?" He checked the wall clock; it was just past eleven PM. It hadn't expired yet.

"Sure thing. What do you want? Soda, breadsticks, a salad with poop sauce?"

"Actually..." Dib pulled out the coupon. "Can I get a large pepperoni pizza?"

The cashier stared at Dib. "Uh... we don't have any pizza."

"What? You're joking! Bloaty's Pizza Hog doesn't have pizza?!"

"We fired our night cook because he was stealing mustard packets to feed illegal immigrants," the cashier said.

Dib blinked. "Illegal immigrants? In Michigan?"

The cashier nodded. "Those Canadians are desperate," he said. "Anyway, that's why we put out a 'help wanted' sign. We won't have any pizza until five AM, when our morning cook comes in. If you want pizza at night, you should come back tomorrow, when our new guy comes in."

Yeah, right. Like Dib was going to let Zim make his pizza. "But... but the coupon won't be good then," Dib said helplessly.

"Sorry. You should have used it earlier."

Dib stared at his coupon and considered all the things Gaz might do to him if he came home without a pizza. He wondered what life would be like as a quadriplegic.

He sighed, and sat down at a booth for the long wait until five AM. Paying full price out of his own money for a pizza was worth it to avoid the looming massacre.

xxx

"So," Purple said, when Zim came outside. "Did you get the job?"

Zim was surprised Purple had even asked. "Of course," he said, proudly holding up his new ID badge.

Purple nodded. "Good work." Without another word, he turned to leave.

Elated at the slight praise, Zim followed, grinning. So the Almighty Tallest had recognized his hard work! Zim hadn't made a mistake in asking him to come to Earth. "Well, naturally they would want to hire me," Zim boasted. "I am clearly superior to any stupid human they could hire."

"Uh-huh?" Purple said, not like he was deeply enthralled, but then again not like he was tuning Zim out, either. It was a promising sign.

"And in any case, I am MORE than qualified for their stupid job! The Control Brains themselves said that Zim would excel in any Food Service career!"

"They did?" Purple glanced at Zim curiously. "Then why were you in Soldier training with me and Red?"

Zim shrugged, looking down. "I thought I could get more recognition in the Military than in Food Services, my Tallest."

"Really? What about Frylords? They get more recognition."

And once, the Control Brains had said that Zim could be a Frylord. Assuming you attain a respectable height. "I wasn't... tall enough to be a Frylord," he said, slightly embarrassed but trying not to show it. "Shorter Irkens have bad opportunities in Food Service careers." Zim had seen Frycooks and Cashiers, Shift Managers and Food Service Drones, that were twenty, ten, zero units tall. He'd seen them all get kicked around by taller Irkens, by Archivists and Artisans who were a hundred fifty, hundred sixty units tall. If you were eighty units or under, Food Service was brutal.

No Archivist or Artisan ever threatened a Soldier, no matter how short he was. It didn't matter if you came up to someone's eye or elbow as long as you were trained in combat and authorized to use a Battle Mech. As a Soldier, then an Elite, then an Invader, Zim had exercised free reign to harass Irkens three times taller than him. That had been neat. That had been the kind of authority Zim deserved.

Purple was clearly interested now. For once, he had his full attention on Zim, without any of the typical suspicion. "I never heard that. I thought all the careers were supposed to be equal."

"Feh! Everyone knows it," Zim said. "Did you ever notice there are no Invaders over eighty units tall?"

Purple looked up towards the Firmament thoughtfully. "There aren't, are there..." he said slowly. Zim figured he was trying to remember the heights of the Invaders he knew.

"No Soldier tall enough to be a War Tactician or High Commander is going to risk his life invading a planet." Zim himself would gladly trade in invading for commanding; he certainly wasn't afraid of the danger that came with being an Invader, not Zim, but he could do so much more for his empire with troops of Soldiers and Pilots under his command. Not merely preparing worlds for subjugation, but actually subjugating them.

Zim would never have a chance to command anything.

"Wait—you mean the Invaders, the Irkens who are supposed to be the empire's future, are just the guys taking the job nobody else wants?"

"Duh." Zim looked accusingly at Purple. "Do you want to be an Invader?"

"Er, maybe I would. I mean, wouldn't everyone?" Purple said. "But why would I want to be an Invader if I can be Tallest?... Oh." He narrowed his eyes in thought. "Oh, yeah... I guess that makes sense..."

"You see?" Zim said. "Tall Irkens are never Invaders."

"That's kinda freaky. We've been conquering the universe with short Irkens?"

"Hey, I think it's good. It means I can be an Invader!"

"I know. That's the freaky part." But Purple slightly smiled as he said it.

Zim scowled. "I could be a good Invader!" he insisted. "If you'd just let me."

"I'm not going to let you, Zim," Purple said wearily, and that was the end of that.

After a moment, he conceded, "But maybe you could have been good."

xxx

The two smeets crouched under the lights near the SPL chamber's lift seemed quite content to completely ignore Purple and Zim. One, a layer, was determined to disassemble a stray laser, and the other, the one with purple eyes, seemed to be watching her. They both glanced up as their parents (although they didn't know they were their parents) approached. The layer quickly lost interest and turned back to her laser; the purple-eyed one studied Purple attentively for a moment, before eventually looking at the laser as well.

Purple wasn't quite so disinterested. Staring at the smeets in disbelief, he said, "You already attached their Paks?"

"Yes, my Tallest," Zim said proudly. "All by myself, too!"

That was quite obvious. The layer's Pak was attached slightly crooked, tilted towards her left shoulder. The purple-eyed smeet's Pak was placed a bit better, but he still had three ugly scars stretching along his back from beneath his Pak that didn't look like they would heal. "Why on Irk didn't you let your computer do that?"

"I don't need the computer's help!" Zim said. "See? And I even programmed their names and got the Control Brains to give them personalities and jobs. It was easy!"

"Master's first idea was to download his personality into the smeets' Paks instead of letting the Control Brains give them personalities," the computer added.

Now that would have been a disaster. The only reason Purple had been willing to dance with Zim to begin with was because he'd been sure the smeets couldn't inherit Zim's defectiveness. "And... what did you name them?" Like Purple really wanted to hear.

"The layer is Bella," Zim said.

"Whuh?" Bella glanced up at the sound of her name, concluded she wasn't being given an order, and lost interest again. However, the other smeet (Bella's brother, technically; the word seemed strange to Purple) stopped paying attention to Bella's disassembly of the laser all together, and quietly watched Zim and Purple.

"Bella?! Who came up with a word like Bella? Huh?"

"Humans. Like Fataz."

"Yeah, but, Fataz sounds kinda normal. I mean... Bella?"

"I couldn't think of anything," Zim said. "It was Bella or Trysta."

Purple stuck out his tongue. No way one of his smeets was being named after a vampire. "Fine. Bella. What's the purple-eyed one?"

The smeet answered for himself, as if he'd been waiting for the opportunity. He stood, saluted, and said, "My name is Dorito, my Tallest."

Purple blinked. "You're kidding." It wasn't unusual for Irkens to be named for snacks—he'd once known a Pilot named Nacho—but come on, Dorito?

"Um..." Dorito's antennae drooped a bit in confusion. (Purple realized he'd seen Zim do the same thing many times.) "Not... really?"

Noticing that she was now disassembling her laser by herself, Bella looked up at Purple. "Hey, who are you?" (And her suspicious squint looked all too much like Zim's. Slark, had they gotten all their genes from Zim?)

Dorito gave Bella a patronizing look. "He's the Almighty Tallest, Bella. Come on! Did you actually not know that?"

"Shut up, of course I knew that!" Bella said angrily. "I was just... just testing you, that's all."

"If you were testing me, why did you ask the Tallest who he was instead of me? Huh? That's what I thought!"

They were two little Zim-clones, Purple concluded with growing horror. He glanced over at Zim to see how he was taking this. "Hey, what's so funny?"

Zim was biting his lip to hold back laughter. He shook his head. "It's nothing, my Tallest. Just..." He gestured at the smeets. "They act exactly like you."

Purple stared at Zim. "What are you talking about? They act like you."

Now Zim really did laugh out loud. "Like me?! Don't be ridiculous! It's so obvious!"

Purple didn't argue; he'd seen this before, in diplomatic meetings between different cultures. Before the Vortians had been subjugated, in the Planet Jacker-Irken-Vortian treaty meetings, the Planet Jackers had argued about how the Vortians' and Irkens' long alliance and sharing of Firmamentalism made them alike, and the Vortians had argued that the Planet Jackers' and Irkens' utter disregard of alien cultures made them alike. Meanwhile, Red and Purple thought both other races were stupid for not realizing that they were alike, both being races of snooty heat-loving fish-eaters. Purple had eventually realized that no one was right and it didn't matter anyway; Red could just keep arguing about who was more like whom as long as he wanted.

"Whatever, fine. They're like me," Purple said. They had to get on to more important matters. "So you hooked them up to the Control Brains? Did they get their projected heights?"

"Yes, my Tallest! You should see. Computer!"

"Whaaat?"

"Display Bella and Dorito's smeet records!"

"Fine..."

It plugged first into Bella's Pak, lowered a screen from the SLP chamber ceiling, and displayed her record:

name: BELLA career: MILITARY/Guard

primary suggestions: You are an astute observer who will be able to detect danger in situations where you will have to keep track of multiple stimuli at once. However, your ability to concentrate on an individual stimulus for longer times will be lacking, and thus your skills are unsuited for jobs involving planning and tactical decisions. Although easily distractible, you should nevertheless be capable of multitasking with ease; paradoxically, you are able to concentrate best when you are required to concentrate on more things at once. Attempt to be promoted to Bodyguard, as any other Guard job would bore you. Other than Guard, you are suited to be a Soldier, if you can concentrate on orders.

Purple concluded that Bella got her observational skills from him; she got her distractibility and general Soldier-ness from Zim.

projected height: 112 UNITS

Purple almost grinned, until he saw the final line:

secondary suggestions: We do not expect much of you.

"They don't WHAT?!" Zim said furiously, rising up on his Pak-legs to shout at the computer screen. "Don't expect much from Zim's amazing offspring? Ignorant fool! I demand you reassess my smeet!"

"Hey, don't blame me!" the computer said. "I'm just displaying the info!"

Zim whirled back to face Purple. "Can you believe that? Well? Can you?!"

"Calm down, Zim," Purple said. Although that was strange. There had to be a reason for it... "Let's just see what Dorito's says, okay?"

"Stupid Brains," Zim muttered. He turned to Bella. "Hey. What do you think of that?"

She had been staring perplexedly at the screen with her record but whipped her head around to face Zim, startled. "Huh? Did you say something?"

Purple sighed. Well, the Brains were certainly right about her. "Computer, display Dorito's record."

"Sure."

name: DORITO career: DIPLOMACY/Diplomat

primary suggestions: Both culturally intelligent and highly charismatic, you should have equal skill in bargaining with aliens and coercing them into doing whatever the empire wants. Although Diplomacy is best suited to you, you would meet equal success as a Taller Advisor, to assist the Tallest in making decisions about interplanetary affairs. If you are not tall enough, you could also excel as an Invader.

So, even the Control Brains indirectly admitted that only short Irkens were Invaders.

Obviously, Purple thought, Dorito got his cultural skills from him, since Zim didn't have any; he got his charisma from Zim. He sounded like he actually could be a good Diplomat someday. The empire needed more of those. "Hey, Dorito."

Dorito had been reading the screen, but immediately turned towards Purple, alert. "Yes, my Tallest?"

"Don't even think about transferring out of Diplomat training. The moment you graduate, you're hired as a Taller Advisor. Got it?" Purple had made the mistake to transfer out. Sometimes he wondered whether or not he might've actually been useful as a Tallest if he'd been a Diplomat. Then again, he probably wouldn't be a Tallest now if he'd been a Diplomat; the only reason he was now, was because of the Tenth Law, and Red wouldn't have made it if he and Purple hadn't been friends for so many years.

Dorito saluted enthusiastically. "Yes sir, my Tallest! It would be an honor to serve you!"

"Yeah, I know." He could fire Pon to hire Dorito. Red probably wouldn't complain.

"You'd hire one of my smeets?!" Zim was ecstatic. "One of my offspring will help rule the Irken Empire? Wow!" He scooped up a very startled Dorito and gave him a tight hug. "Hey, Bella! Be more like Dorito!"

She looked up again, confused. "What? Oh, yeah, sure. Okay. What you said." And her attention had returned to the laser, which was now in three pieces on the ground.

projected height: 100 UNITS

"Perfectly average!" Purple said triumphantly. The first one. Maybe this mission would work after all...

secondary suggestions: We do not expect much of you.

This time, both Purple and Zim fell silent. Zim was wordless with shocked outrage that part of his genetic code had been so slighted; Purple, with bafflement at what the message could mean. "'We do not expect much of you'?" Purple echoed, and then grew annoyed. "What do you mean? I just said I'm gonna hire Dorito, and you're saying he's worthless?"

"Yeah!" Zim said. "What do you think you know about my smeet anyway?"

"Why does everyone keep shouting at me?!" the computer asked helplessly.

"This is stupid!" Zim said. "How can they not expect much of the offspring of a Tallest and the amazing Zim?!" He turned to Purple, frustrated. "Well?"

"Get down," Purple said, pushing Zim's head down; he was up on his Pak-legs again. "I don't know. Ask the Control Brains."

"My Tallest?"

Purple looked at Dorito. "What?"

He seemed concerned. "The Hundred Law states that all Irkens in careers that require a minimum height, like Taller Advisor and High Commander, must be taller than one hundred units, and if they're shorter than one hundred units they can't take the job. What about Irkens that are exactly one hundred units, my Tallest?"

"Uh..." For a moment, Purple was honestly clueless; but then he remembered the bell curves of Irken height. "That's not a problem. There aren't any Irkens a hundred units."

"But the Control Brains said I'll be one hundred," Dorito said insistently. "Can I still take the job?"

"Er, we'll make an exception for you," Purple said. "Don't worry about it. You probably won't be exactly a hundred anyway, but I could change the law so it says ninety-seven units or something. I already said that I was hiring you, didn't I?"

Dorito nodded, relieved. "Thank you, my Tallest."

Zim smirked, calmed down now that he knew this wouldn't prevent his smeet from getting hired. "The Control Brains are stupid anyway," he told Dorito. "They banished me to Foodcourtia once." Purple didn't point out that that was probably the smartest thing the Brains had ever done. It only would have been smarter if they'd sent him somewhere with better security, like the Conveyor Belt Planet...

Purple suddenly realized how long he'd been on Earth. "Aw, Slark. I've got to go." He'd told Red he was making a quick trip to the Conveyor Belt Planet, and he still hadn't gone there yet; he also had to go to Irk to drop off the smeets. "Bella, Dorito—in the lift. Bella, leave the laser." Dorito saluted and got in immediately; Bella only reluctantly left her disassembled weapon.

Zim joined them in the lift, and it started to rise towards the hangar. "You're leaving so soon, my Tallest? But you only just got here!"

"This was supposed to be a short visit, remember?" Purple said. "Besides, I'm gonna be back in three weeks."

"Only to dance and leave again," Zim muttered.

"Well, yeah..." Stupid guilt, Purple hated feeling guilty. "And... maybe we could make fun of another moovy or something. We only saw the first two Stair Wars, didn't we?"

Zim's antennae perked up. "You'll stay longer next time?"

"Sure, why not?" As long as he was going be away from the Massive, no reason he couldn't officially take a longer break.

Bella and Dorito, like all Irken smeets, were born with the knowledge of dancing but not the maturity to handle it, and were smiling guiltily at listening to their Tallest make plans to dance with someone. They'd stop thinking it was so funny once they did it for themselves. "You don't tell anyone about what you've seen on this planet, got it?" Purple said to the smeets. "If anyone asks, you came from a birthing facility like everyone else."

Both Bella and Dorito saluted. "Yes, sir!"

"Good." The lift stopped at the hangar and the door opened. "Get in the Spittle Runner." They saluted again and ran off. Purple sighed, and shouted, "That's the Voot Cruiser, Bella! Other ship!"

"I knew that!"

Zim snickered again. Purple gave him an annoyed look. "She got that from you, you know."

"With all due respect, my Tallest, she SO got that from you."

Whatever. Purple couldn't sit around arguing with Zim about genetics. He still had to get to the Conveyor Belt Planet.

Which reminded him. "Zim, I'm going to send another Irken out to Earth in a few days, all right? He's going to stay here with you, so he can take care of the smeets and make sure nothing bad happens to them before I can get back."

"What? How could anything bad happen to them with me here?" Zim demanded.

Purple glanced towards the smeets in the Spittle Runner, and even from here could faintly see the ugly scars on Dorito's back. How, indeed. "It's just to be safe, all right?" Purple said wearily. "I mean, you're out of the base enough as it is, and now that you've got that Earth job to do—"

"The computer and Gir can handle the care of the smeets!" Zim said. "I don't need any help from any stupid—"

"Think of it as a personal Drone slave, okay?"

"Oh." Zim turned the idea over in his mind. "A personal slave..."

"But, if you don't want it..."

"No, no, that's quite all right," Zim said quickly, and bowed—actually bent over and bowed. "I would be honored to receive a Drone to do my bidding, my Tallest!"

"Good. He should be here in... I dunno, a day, maybe?" Purple could probably shove him in a box on Conveyor Belt Planet and ship him to Earth that way.

"I shall be awaiting his delivery!" Zim said, grinning ecstatically. "Thank you, my Tallest!"

"Yeah, just don't kill him," Purple muttered. But despite himself, he had to grin at Zim's enthusiasm.

For a moment, he had a crazy urge to, to say good-bye, somehow. Not just say good-bye, but to do something. Maybe... reach down and stroke Zim's head, maybe brush an antenna. Fingers on skin, nearly-almost dancing, just a pleasant tingling Purple could try to preserve on the flight back to Irk...

But that would be way, way too intimate. Especially for Zim's sake. Purple was just a bit deprived from not having danced much lately, that was the only reason he was getting weird ideas like that. The urge passed, although not as quickly as he would have liked.

"So," he said flatly, turning away from Zim. "I'll be back in three weeks." He got in the Runner, shut it, started it, and in very little time was far above Earth.

As Bella and Dorito stared in wonder at the colors of the wormhole (they still looked like little Zim-clones to Purple, except one a layer and one with purple eyes) he sighed in relief. Soon, he'd be back at the Massive, where things were normal.

All he had to do before then was drop off the smeets, and then pay a visit to Exile Bob.

xxxxx