"PROXIMITY WARNING. APPROACHING FOODCOURTIA. Hey, earth SLUG, wake up and listen to me!"
Gaz mumbled softly and twitched, then rolled onto her side. She tried to stretch out her legs and tensed for an instant when they hit unyielding metal. Then she sat up stiffly, swiping a hand across her face to rub at her temples. "What did I say about the insults?" she growled. Her throat was raspy dry and tight with lack of moisture. The girl leaned down and pulled a bulb of water from the opened crate by her knees and sucked at it eagerly. She forced herself to put it down before it was empty, though.
The copy of Tak's personality was quiet for a moment, waiting for her passenger to speak again. When Gaz remained quiet the ship spoke instead. "Well how can I help it if you're an inferior human? I just state fact, filthy earth female."
Not this routine again. Can't Irkens think of original insults? Gaz didn't take the bait. Instead she scrubbed tiredly at her pallid skin again. There were livid red marks tracked on her face from where she had smushed her face into folds of cloth as she slept. Tak had lapsed once more into expectant silence, and Gaz could almost feel the copy's impatience as the human left her hanging. "C'MON, what's wrong with you today?!" the ship finally exploded. "Are you dead or something? 'Cause, y'know, it's disgusting ENOUGH carrying your filthy meatbody ALIVE. If you're dead I'll just jettison cargo and go do... stuff."
"Sorry to disappoint you," Gaz growled in return. "What's going on that's so important it made you wake me up?"
"Excuse me," the ship sniffed. "I was just saying we're getting close to Foodcourtia, the-"
"Food court planet, I can guess." Gaz snapped. She pulled a little bit of string from her hair; greasy plum strands cascaded around her face until she pulled them back into a tight tail again. "Land there. I could use a change of diet." She smirked ruefully at the crates that were filled -or that had once been filled- with tubes of bland nutrient paste. She was getting dangerously low on stocks of food and water.
"There's something else you might be interested in," the ship said. Tak sounded gleeful, as if she were barely restraining herself from bursting into wicked laughter. Gaz looked up a little bit, her face remaining stony. She had a hunch that the ship had some way to monitor her expressions and body language and tried not to give it an advantage in that field. Even a copy of Tak was far more dangerous than Zim.
Instead, the girl remained silent. It was what she was good at, and it was a far more effective tool for getting information than ranting and demanding answers would have been. Irkens seemed to love to explain their thought process in detail- or was it just Zim and Tak who fell prey to that? Either way it worked in Gaz's favor when she played waiting games.
The ship did not disappoint. After a few slack moments it spoke again. "Zim was here once, not so long ago. He worked here before he escaped and showed up to ruin Operation Impending Doom 2."
"Oh?"
"Oh yes," the ship snickered. "And the fool! He left an angry Irken restaurant manager behind him! There is no other who would be idiotic enough to dare!"
Gaz tapped her fingers together thoughtfully, wishing she had her Game Slave. She needed something to occupy her hands. The ship was banking now; Gaz wiped condensation from the cockpit's window and glared down upon the dubious glory of Foodcourtia.
A dilapidated, ugly planet. Just like all the other ones. Surprise, surprise. Gaz narrowed her eyes disgustedly. I should be used to this by now...
The human girl slumped, stretched her arms up as best she could to crack her back. The surface features of Foodcourtia were easier to see now, as the Spittle Runner slid into the atmosphere: an ugly metropolitan stretch of fast food joint after fast food joint. Food wrappers whirled away from the Runner as it landed, then drifted back to the cracked paving as the gusts of superheated air blasting from the thrusters died down. The lot was less crowded than she expected.
Gaz dropped onto the scorched concrete rather clumsily, bending over to massage life back into her knotted calves and thighs. That done the girl swung her arms over her head to stretch her shoulders and roll her neck. After crushing hours of travel cooped up in the Spittle Runner and chance to move freely was a gift.
The Runner dropped a lift bearing an ID plug and monies card; Gaz pocketed both of them without turning a hair. Then, falling into her habitual borderline-threatening prowl she stalked towards the restaurant.
It was a dingy, half-empty little building. A tiny, whimpering creature in a hideous suit flailed in pain next to the door. Gaz stepped over one twitching limb and took stock of the place.
Cramped, greasy little booths lined the walls and went in rows down the center. A bored female Irken manning the counter said in a sulky slur "Welcome to Schloogorgh's Flavor Monster may I take your order please?"
Gaz slammed her palms onto the counter. She stood head and shoulders over the little alien. Murky corners seemed to shift, invertebrate and ominous- the few patrons picking at their meals all tensed and turned to stare at the new arrival. "I don't have an order," Gaz said, perfectly conversational. "I'm looking for an Irken called Sizz-Lorr."
The much-abused counter Irken almost shrank back at the sudden invasion of her personal space. Normally they were pugnacious little things but those unfortunates landing in the fast-food industry tended to lose much of their spark. However as the strange customer made no further signs of aggression the server warily spoke.
"Sizz-Lorr works the fryers in the back. He'll be" –she pointed- "through that door." Normally customers weren't allowed behind the scenes (it put them off fast-food forever) but it might offer some satisfaction at knowing the Frycook would take care up the uppity outsider.
Well, that was easy. Gaz nodded shortly to the worker and slouched towards the back, where a little door marked with an employee's-only sign was tucked.
It swung open easily at her touch, and Gaz slipped in side, closing it silently behind her. The kitchen was practically deserted. Only a few of the fryers were active, spitting off bits of hot grease. The lights were dim, but Gaz could see a hulking figure moving in the back and made for that.
Sizz-Lorr was the most intimidating Irken the girl had ever seen. She paused a moment just to stare at his blocky armored shoulders. The Frycook was wider than he was tall, and he was very tall.
The next moment he turned and saw her. Sizz-Lorr was balancing a steaming pastry precariously on an oversized spatula; that was probably the only thing that kept him from bringing the utensil crashing down on the impertinent intruder. Instead he simply growled, forehead wrinkling angrily. The scar above his eye twitched with the movement. "What are you doing back here? The sign said employees only. Are your brains deficient?"
Gaz dipped her chin down to her chest, then leaned back casually against a freezer unit. Shadows surrounding them shimmied closer, rippling eagerly. Sizz-Lorr didn't shift his weight but his eyes narrowed. The Frycook was not a stupid Irken and he knew when to give an apparently stupid alien the benefit of doubt.
"I was told that once, and Irken called Zim worked here," Gaz murmured softly. "Do you know where he is now?"
Sizz-Lorr's lip curled with disgust. "Ah, Zim." He swept his spatula neatly over Gaz's head, shaking the sweet cake onto a slide. Not a drop of grease got on her. The threat in his movement had decreased now; he had recognized Gaz as a creature somewhat on par with himself, another predator in disguise. "He worked here once, then he escaped to enroll in Operation Impending Doom 2." Now the bulky Irken leaned on his spatula. The metal shone with a rainbow slick of grease. "After that, he was missing for a while. I found him on a planet called... earth, and brought him back to make up for his laziness. But he managed to escape again before the Foodening started."
That was a new phrase to Gaz. "The Foodening?"
Sizz-Lorr shot her a sardonic glance. "Yes. Every so often it happens that there is such a press of customers arriving here at Foodcourtia that it becomes impossible to leave. It will be only one year off planet but here it takes twenty years to pass." He flipped his spatula into his hand and coaxed another pastry onto the metal, pouched purple eyes concentrated. "It would still be going on but there was an outbreak of Inginano Fever in one of the restaurants. It spread of course, and people all started trying to leave." He shuddered in a momentary spasm of rage. "I would hunt Zim again but the fools here would fall apart without me!"
Gaz nodded thoughtfully, hardly listening to him. The cook would be no help at finding Zim but he could provide food and water.
"I am hunting him," she interjected through Sizz-Lorr's feverish mutters. "I plan to find him. But I need supplies. I am low on water and basic food."
Sizz-Lorr withdrew from his own world to look at her again. And ugly grin pulled at his face. "I can help you with that," he said.
END OF CHAPTER FOUR
The premature end of the Foodening is iffy but the idea of the Foodening is iffy in the first place so forgive me. Is there too much exposition in this chapter? You tell me. More fun stuff will erupt soon.
Chapter finished August 22, 2004.