Water was the greatest gift Sizz-Lorr gave her. He had handled the packets carefully, reasonable as to him the substance was a corrosive substance rather then something that sustained life. Gaz drank three bulbs in quick succession, feeling energy flow back into her heavy limbs with relief. The water softened her dry tongue and she flicked it idly over her cracked lips. There was a slight taste of copper on them; they were still so dry they were bleeding.

Sizz-Lorr had presented her with a basket of some greasy, fried, otherwise unidentifiable food; for all she knew they were bits of meat of vegetable or carefully selected pieces of hose rubber disguised in breading. They tasted like salt and grease, like meals from innumerable fast-food joints back home.

She took another piece and put it into her mouth, relishing the bitter taste of the salt. A bit of it had brushed into one of the sores on her lower lip and stung fiercely, interminably, before the human girl hurriedly pressed her tongue over it, hoping to flush away the salt with saliva.

It didn't quite work and Gaz squeezed her fingers together, bearing the pain as it sank deeper and deeper into her flesh and then dissipated slowly. After that she gave up on eating the greasy pieces of food- it was far too rich after her spartan diet of nutrient paste which had been held to for months. Instead she settled back into her seat, affecting a casual air and luxuriating in the feel of clean clothes on clean skin. The cuff of one of her sleeves was a frayed mess and Gaz picked at one string idly, unraveling it further. When it hung from her elbow she left it alone, preferring to sit back and inhale the wafting scents of grease and dirt, listen to the faint hiss and spit of the deep-fat fryer, letting the familiar sounds and atmosphere put her back home. It was hardly a stretch to imagine Dib in place beside her, babbling about aliens or bigfeet or something. Did it really matter? Membrane had always sat across from both of them, present in body but still not really there. He was always caught up in his own personal drama, playing the lead in an epic of discoveries and disasters befalling the world.

Even when the three of them sat together they were alone, isolated by their own minds. Now, on Foodcourtia, Gaz closed her eyes and wished that one of them had tried harder to burst their bubble of solitude. Membrane was busy, insanely so, and Dib was obsessed with chasing his aliens to the exclusion of all else, and Gaz would never give up her games but... maybe there could have been something. There was no chance for it now.

Now she was alone out here, so unprepared that even her clothes could send make her homesick. Only a little, of course; Gaz was stronger then that... but the cotton fibers and nylon, prepared by human machines and touched by human hands, were the only things she had left of earth. They were relics, cheap souvenirs from a society that didn't exist anymore, but then again so was she.

Gaz frowned, thin brows drawing together. She picked up the bulb of water sitting beside her on the table and took another slow sip, luxuriating in the cool liquid soothing her throat. Now that she wasn't gulping it she could taste the metallic bite of the water.

Even the water tasted different. Gaz pursed her lips, set the water down again. She was tired of sitting. The restaurant was mostly empty, but the few scattered customers ensconced in their various booths watches the unfamiliar alien curiously as she pushed herself up and headed for the back room.

Oh, it was delicious, to feel like a predator again. To feel human... no, more than human now, imbued with the near-supernatural calm and focus that usually only video games brought to her.

Sizz-Lorr was working over something in the back, his huge, meaty hands clamped around tools many times more delicate than his fingers. His deep-set violet eyes were slitted with concentration.

The Frylord paid no attention as his guest circled around to observe his work. The Irken's face was pinched and intent; the tip of his snaky tongue poked out of one corner of his mouth.

The probe in his hand twitched a hair to the left; Gaz clearly saw a spark leapfrog from the innards of the machine to his hand. Sizz-Lorr dropped the tool with a clink and spit out a strangled string of words. The language was incomprehensible but the tone of harried cursing was universal. Gaz bit down a smirk and when Sizz-Lorr shot her a venomous glare her face was impassive.

Countenance stony, Sizz-Lorr picked up the machine and offered it to her. Gaz took it with no hesitation; it was light and fit neatly into her hands.

She had a sudden flashback to holding her Game Slave.

"It is a tracker," the Frylord said. His purple eyes glanced over her appraisingly, and then he picked up a rag and began to wipe grease off his hands. "Your little ship will work for finding Zim while he was in space, but if you are to find him on foot you must have specialized equipment to do so."

Gaz hesitated, surprised on a deep level by this act from the Irken before her. Sizz-Lorr had helped her greatly, more than she expected, and thanks was probably in order but Gaz was not the type to give it and the Frylord was not the type to accept it gracefully. Instead she simply said "I'm sure I'll find good use for this."

Sizz-Lorr nodded in return, mouth puckering wryly. He held out his hand, and Gaz slowly handed the tracker back to him. "Bring a piece of his hide back for me, eh?" he growled. "I still must take revenge on him for leaving the restaurant at rush hour."

"How about I just tell him you said goodbye?" Gaz replied. A small, dark smile spread across her face. "I don't think there'll be much left when I'm finished with him."

"Heh!" Sizz-Lorr barked. "I look forward to hearing news of his messy demise." He gave her one last hard, appraising look and the smaller alien stared back at him, meeting his eyes for once. They were very narrow, he noted, and the color was funny, a dusty brown. And that opaque white around the color... an uncanny looking race, to be sure. He wondered if she would have a chance at her goal, a foreign alien heading for the heart of the Irken Empire.

It probably didn't matter. Zim's demise was insured either way, and dead was dead, at anyone's hands.

The ship was refueled and restocked, its passenger was fed and watered and clean. There was no reason to stay longer... Gaz felt the itch in her skin, in her soul, to be on the move again. Every second she was still was a second that Zim had to get ahead of her. And oh, there was still such a long way to go...

Gaz sat impatiently in the restaurant while Sizz-Lorr muttered and shuffled in the back room. She was almost antsy enough to just leave without accepting any help but the tracker was too tempting to pass up... And so she contained herself, counting off the minutes in her head.

When the Irken came out at last, he offered her a few simple things. A little more water for emergencies, the tracker, tuned, calm in his hands now. Perfect. And a long rumpled shape of fabric, black trimmed in red...

He offered the suit to her, letting it hang down so the fabric was visible. The human girl stared at it silently, absorbing the sleek padded lines of it, the thin smooth material. Gaz hesitated, and then reached out to finger the fabric. Slick, it was; slick as oil. She glanced up at him.

He studied her, face dark and wry. She didn't like the knowing look of it, the expectancy. "For you, if you like," he said. "You can't look like an orphaned waif forever."

Her fist clenched involuntarily. The fabric bunched and rippled in her hands. Gaz pulled it away from him; Sizz-Lorr let go, quite easily. How much did he know? How much did he guess? She couldn't trust him. He was Irken for all that he had helped her.

"I'll take it," she said abruptly. She didn't offer any more information.

Sizz-Lorr gave her a back room to change in, disdainful but understanding of the shreds of human modesty Gaz had left. The air was cold on her skin after she peeled off the layers and layers of human clothing, and the human squirmed as quickly as she could into the Irken garment. It fit quite well, snug and warm. Gaz wriggled her shoulders and wondered how Sizz-Lorr had got such a good idea of her measurements.

When she had changed Gaz gathered up her pile of human clothing, and alone allowed herself to bring the cloth to her nose and inhale her human scent, the oils of skin and machine grease. They were her last lifelines to earth, and she was throwing them away... cotton fields and factories, sewing machines, and human workers folding and boxing them...

Sizz-Lorr gave her a strange look when she came out carrying them close up against her chest. Gaz hesitated at it, imperceptibly, thinking. Pulling them closer then finally pushing them away.

When she stood by the entry hatch to the ship she dropped them on the ground. Ugly tattered things, dull colors, like dead leaves... "I don't need them," she said, cold. Perfectly in control. "Burn them, won't you?"

Oh, it was so easy to leave things behind...

She crawled into the cockpit and leaned pack into the padding of the pilot's seat. The claustrophobic curved walls were almost homey now. This was where she belonged. This was home.

Liftoff was smooth and easy. The ship didn't speak, except to request commands and follow through. As the field of stars opened before her Gaz let herself relax, ooze fluidly into a comfortable position. The tracker she fiddled with in her hands, fingering the controls and tracing the edge of the screen. Home.

Sizz-Lorr watched the strange modified ship depart curiously. It didn't seem possible that she could possibly attain her goal... but then, it was a strange universe. Anything could happen. And she had been an impressive specimen, for an inferior species. He suspected that Zim would have the fight of his life when she caught up with him.

The dot shrank into Foodcourtia's sky. Sizz-Lorr squinted a moment, then turned away with a grunt of disgust. He still had customers to take care of.

END OF CHAPTER 6

Apologies for the wait. I just hope this chapter was worth it.

October 24, 2004