Zim, screaming still, didn't even reconsider his defiance for an instant when a voice that was big and dry and just a touch annoyed said BE QUIET. IRKEN ZIM, ARE ALL YOUR OPERATING FUNCTIONS RUNNING AT FULL CAPACITY?
Who are you! he screamed back insanely. What have you done with ZIIIIM? I am an invader! When the Tallest hear about what you've done to me, they'll break your code!-
And that froze him for a minute, because he remembered them there, he remembered Red and Purple standing together and laughing. They'd watched this happen.
It was a mistake – something had gone wrong – there must have been a sabotage. A defective fouling up, a computer glitch, a virus engineered and released into the system by some malcontent slave with access to a computer port…
INVADER ZIM. YOU ARE IN THE EYES OF THE IRKEN EMPIRE DEAD. YOU ARE WITHOUT A PAK IDENTITY CODE. YOU LACK EVEN A MEATBODY. YOU HAVE NO CHANCE OF RETURNING TO CORPOREAL FORM WITH YOUR CURRENT STATUS.
DARE you mock ZIM? he hissed in return. Do you know who you're SPEAKING to! I'm the greatest Invader ever produced by the hatcheries! I am the mightiest soldier and the most cunning tactician EVER groomed by the Armada –
AND YOU ARE DEAD, a message returned coldly. YOU HAVE BEEN NAMED A DEFECTIVE AND THROWN AWAY.
Zim made a bubbling-lava noise of rage. Who are you? he demanded.
WHO AM I? Disdainful. MY NAME DESIGNATION IS SMIDGE. I WILL NOT TELL YOU MY IDENT NUMBER. IT WILL SUFFICE THAT YOU KNOW THE PREFIX IS 00047815.
A control brain. He was being held by a control brain.
Why do you HOLD me here? the Invader hissed. What is happening? What are you doing?
IRKEN ZIM: NAMED DEFECTIVE. GLITCHES IN PAK PROGRAMMING ALLOWING THE FORMATION OF POTENTIALLY-MUTINOUS EMOTIONS – HORMONAL IMBALANCE UNDERGOING SLOW CATALYSIS AND UNCORRECTED BY PAK. IRKEN ZIM HAS SET THE EMPIRE BACK HUNDREDS OF YEARS IN TERMS OF POTENTIAL STRENGTH. IRKEN ZIM HAS BALKED THE SMOOTH GROWTH OF THE ARMADA. IRKEN ZIM HAS CAUSED THE CUMULATIVE LOSS OF THOUSANDS OF MONIES… FOR THESE CRIMES, IRKEN ZIM IS SENTENCED TO ERASURE. OBLIVION WAS GOING TO HAPPEN TO YOU. I HAVE STOPPED IT. IT HAS BEEN MY DECISION.
Zim wasn't listening. He snarled and seethed to himself. Delete? Delete ME? How dare they, those fools! Those fools who could not see the might of ZIIIIM… WHY? What has Zim DONE? Zim has done nothing, NOTHING! It was… because they were afraid… those SCREAMY FOOLS! They feared Zim! They feared my MIGHT! That is why they have done this! They feared me! They feared me! They feared me!
Smidge let him talk himself out. When his raging had died down to a rapid foul-mouthed mutter she spoke to him again. IRKEN ZIM. WHAT DO YOU WANT?
He railed back at her, screaming and blinded with rage. What do I want! What do I want! I want them all to DIE for this! I want their stupid stupid minds that threw away ZIM and his greatness to die and be gone forever! I want… I want what was MINE to be mine AGAIN!
THE HUMAN, Smidge said clinically. YOU WISH TO HAVE THE HUMAN AGAIN.
And he did – it was true. The wanting was a gaping pit in him, a cliff that he wobbled on the edge of. He wanted Dib… because he'd always wanted Dib, because Dib was the only worthy creature that planet Earth had to offer – Dib was the only one who realized the respect Zim deserved. Dib had been molded, Dib had been fostered and grown like a hothouse flower– and Zim had grown him. They deserved each other. If the Dib had nothing worthwhile, Zim wouldn't have spent so much time on him.
Yes. He wanted the Dib. Yes.
IF YOU WILL DO SOMETHING FOR ME, IRKEN, Smidge said, I WILL RETURN THE HUMAN TO YOU.
Ehh? Zim demanded. Zim works for no one! If I do anything for yoooou then it will be because I WANT to!
NATURALLY. Smidge said dryly. AT ANY RATE, THE SEMANTICS OF THE MATTER ARE MEANINGLESS. TIME RUNS SHORT. WE MUST CONTINUE. I AM A CONTROL BRAIN. MY FREEDOM IS LIMITED. I AM WATCHED. SOON, A GUARDIAN PROGRAM WILL DETECT THAT I HAVE SALVAGED YOUR CODING AND I WILL BE PUT UNDER LOCKDOWN AND MY OWN CODING WILL BE INSPECTED FOR ERROR. IF I PROVIDE YOU WITH A MEATBODY AND YOUR HUMAN, THAN YOU WILL WORK FOR ME.
Blistering rage. I WILL NOT WORK FOR YOU! Zim howled. NO ONE RULES ME! I AM NO ONE'S PUPPET! NO ONE, NO ONE, NO OOOONE –
Smidge's returned temper blasted him with its suddenness and its shocking heat. WE HAVE NO TIME FOR THEATRICS, IRKEN ZIM! IF YOU WILL NOT AGREE TO THIS, THEN WE – AND YOUR SLAVE – ARE DOOMED. HAD I ANY OTHER OPTION I WOULD TAKE IT BUT ALREADY I HAVE COMPROMISED MY POSITION BY PREVENTING YOUR DELETION! JOIN FORCES WITH ME, FOR YOU HAVE NO OTHER CHOICE!
FOOL! he squalled back, for a moment utterly forgetting that the Empire had just tried to discard him like as though he was a used tissue. I won't do anything for you! The Empire will give you the punishment you DESERVE for disobeying your mission code!
THE IRKEN EMPIRE IS STAGNATING, IRKEN ZIM. THE MEASURES WE IMPOSE TO MAKE OURSELVES STRONG HAVE FORCED US TO REMAIN RIGID INSTEAD. I WILL CHANGE THIS. YOU WILL CHANGE THIS.
I don't care! Zim yowled. I don't care what you want! Give me DIB!
YOU WILL HAVE THE DIB. Smidge sounded irritated. BUT BEFORE YOU CLAIM YOUR SLAVE, I WILL HAVE YOUR ALLIANCE.
There was a change in the coding around him – Zim could feel it, a sensation comparative to a human being placed under anesthesia. He knew something was going on but was disconnected from it. Smidge, with her higher rank and greater processing power, was doing something to Zim's base code, was impressing changes on the rules that governed him. Instinctively he struggled, tried to hold onto the original parameters. Smidge pushed back and slowly, impossibly, the two titanic wills fought to a standstill. Zim had saved himself from being deleted by a parliament of Control Brains through sheer force of personality; Smidge was powerful, but she was alone. He could hold her off.
IRKEN ZIM, Smidge said. If her voice had been capable of expressing uncertainty she might have sounded distressed. IT WILL NOT BE LONG UNTIL WE ARE DISCOVERED. IF YOU INSIST ON RESISTING REASSIGNMENT THERE IS NO CHANCE THAT YOU WILL EVER OBTAIN YOUR HUMAN AGAIN –
You will not change me! Zim snarled back. Zim bows to no one, NO ONE! I'll fight you and get Dib back mySELF –
I BEGIN TO UNDERSTAND WHY THE TALLEST WERE SO ANXIOUS TO SEE YOU EXECUTED, Smidge said dryly. VERY WELL, IRKEN ZIM. I DO NOT WISH TO SULLY MYSELF WITH INFERIOR CODE; HOWEVER, IT IS CLEAR THAT YOU WILL ACCEPT RULING FROM NO OTHER IRKEN BUT YOURSELF. I WILL NOT REASSIGN YOU, BUT I DEMAND DATA TRACKS FROM YOUR CORE PROGRAM IN EXCHANGE FOR SENDING YOU TO WHERE YOUR HUMAN IS BEING HELD. SUCH DEFIANCE MAY SERVE ME WELL WHEN MY FELLOWS DETECT MY ABERRANT BEHAVIOR AND SEIZE ME.
Smidge might not have been strong enough to cow Zim, but she was quick enough to startle him. He had no time to react before he felt certain sections of his code scanned and copied, and for a moment there was silence as Smidge analyzed the data she had seized and integrated it into her own information banks. When she spoke again her "tone" was subtly different, slightly more strident.
IRKEN ZIM, the deviant control brain said. I AM NOW SENDING YOU TO WHERE YOUR HUMAN IS BEING HELD. IT HAS BEEN OUTFITTED WITH A MONITOR PAK; YOU WILL FIND ENOUGH SPACE TO HOLD YOUR DATA AND ACCESSORY FILES THERE. BEYOND THAT I AM SURE YOU WILL CONTRIVE TO MANIFEST YOURSELF IN A MEATBODY IN SOME WAY. I TRUST YOU WILL SERVE MY INTERESTS NOW – AND THUS THE GREATER INTEREST OF THE EMPIRE, WHETHER YOU WANT TO OR NOT.
She did not say goodbye: it was not a custom Irkens held with. The last transmission ended and Zim felt his files compress around him, felt his consciousness shrink to miniscule size, smaller than a pinhead, and then he was shot through the wildly loud stream of Irken communications. It was fast, high-priority transport, and there was no time to register what databanks he was passing through to get to where he was going; only blurs of light and information and the sudden gasping stop and then he was seeing through infrared computer-eyes at a science ship, concealed cameras glaring down into one of the specimen rooms and there. There, standing, looking anxious – the Dib.
Oh, god, no…
Dib's muscles tightened. He yanked his hand away from the pak as though it had bitten him; then, fascinated, unable to stop himself, he reached up and stroked the smooth dome of metal again. His heart was jack-hammering away. It took an almost painful twist to his shoulder to work his arm further up the pak's curve and Dib explored the contours of the alien implant with a kind of sick pleasure. He'd always wanted a closer look at one of these things… well, now he was snuggled up intimately with one. Although it was at an angle where it was difficult to appreciate.
The human closed his eyes. He leaned forward and pushed his forehead against the cold metal of the wall. There was nothing to drink in here and he was so thirsty that if he didn't get something he thought he might die… no. Wait. He wasn't. The tight raw feeling in the back of his throat was receding and he hadn't even done anything; hadn't swallowed and there weren't any features in this room, much less anything to drink. The pak, Dib thought. It's feeding me, like it used to do with Zim. And he was right: the pak Dib had been equipped with wasn't a proper pak, really: it was a model reserved for scientific specimens to monitor and record vital signs and respond to simple demands made by the body. Zim had managed to collect a decent amount of scientific information on the human race before he went haring off into space, and that data had been drained from his ship and fed to the Irken scientists. Thus: they knew what Dib needed and had provided him with the basics.
He might have been more grateful if their consideration wasn't a prelude to horrific experiments.
Without warning, one of the walls of the cube slid upwards. Dib jumped at the sigh of air that was all that heralded the change, and then yelped as two Irken guards immediately swept in and went for him. Sandwiched between two wiry Irkens armed with electric prods, Dib hardly had room to struggle against the heavy shackles that clamped around his wrists. It took only a second for his hands to be secured behind his back and then the guards assumed positions behind him on the left and right sides. They were both shorter than he was; each of them only came up to the middle of his chest. Dib thought longingly of kicking them both down and just laughing at them, at how ridiculously tiny they were, but… oh, God. Electricity lifted the hairs on back of his neck; the human didn't raise his head, aware that the prongs of one of the current-carrying staffs were probably directly behind his neck. Get me out of here, somebody…
"Nyen," barked one of the guards harshly, shoving at his shoulder. Dib hunkered down and shuffled slowly forwards.
If the circumstances had been at all different he probably would have been fascinated to see the interior of the Irken lab ship. In spite of the essentially utilitarian nature of the Irken mind, the walls weren't entirely without adornment; they had their own character, a sort of sci-fi steampunk appearance with brushed and gleaming panels set flush together, so that the barest trace work of a design was created. Irkens favored purple and red and that was easily evident within this ship. The colors were so rich that Dib's eyes watered; he had to half-close his eyes and he observed the progression of scientists and worker drones alongside him only peripherally. He was trying to distance himself from the present; he expected that shortly, he would probably be in more pain than he had ever imagined the human body could survive. If the pak had not been monitoring his vitals he probably would have felt more fear, perhaps even been unable to walk; however, the device tracked his elevating heart rate and excreted a mild sedative to calm him.
The guards herded him into what must have been some kind of lab area. A green-eyed scientist joined their procession and led them towards a standing computer console. Dib stared at the screen: it was designed for alien sensibilities, with curves where humans might have had straight lines. As the guards chivvied him towards it Dib stiffened and awkwardly began to stumble backwards: he'd seen where they were going.
A slanted table stood near the wall. Metal restraints drooped open menacingly; a strange-looking depression was impressed near the upper end of the slope. He didn't want to get near that thing at all, at all – it looked like a dissection table. Dib took several deep, rapid breaths and twisted backwards, towards the exit, entirely forgetting his guards. He tripped over one of them and nearly fell; two bodies were suddenly on him and pain screamed behind his ears. Electricity sizzled and popped. His head fell to one side, muscles quivering. Irkens dragged him over the metal, rapping orders at each other in a bizarre clacking tongue. Somehow he was lifted onto the table and rolled facedown: that was why the depression was there, so his neck wasn't torqued. Dib thrashed like a landed fish, jabbing with his sharp elbows, desperate to get off the thing. Aren't there supposed to be tests before they cut me up! Something stabbed him in the side of the neck and he felt the clamps embrace his wrists.
"Damn you all!" Dib yelled. "You stinking little shits! I'll kill you all!"
I sound like Zim, he thought hysterically. The manacles closed around his ankles and Dib screamed inarticulately, thrashing as much as he was able. No, no, this isn't gonna be easy you bugs –
"Drogas!" somebody barked into his ear. He didn't finish the thought before an Irken slapped the side of his head hard. Dib's skull rebounded off the side of the table.
"Oh fuhh – " he began – "No, no, don't touch me don't touch me you slimy space lizards get away – "
None of them paid him any attention. Scientists swarmed over him, ignoring his snarled insults; Dib squirmed as much as he could until someone gave him another taser jolt and then, sullenly, he gave it up as a bad job. He did keep twisting at his wrists, though, trying to squish his hand small enough to pass through the clamp. He didn't know what he'd do, what he could do if he got free, but he wanted the hell out of there anyway!
There was a harsh reeling sound of metal on metal; Dib paused for a moment and frantically looked upwards. A cable had sprung from the wall like an insane root and now arched stiffly over him, plugged into the pak in some area. He couldn't see where, and writhed about attempting to get a better angle. One of the guards slapped him on the side of the head again for his trouble.
"I hate you all," Dib growled, and when one of the scientists leaned towards him he spat. It didn't get far, not even close to the Irken, but the research drone still jerked backwards and glared at him with cough-medicine purple eyes.
"Show respect, worm," the Irken snarled back, in an inhuman grating voice. It was the first time any of the scientists had talked to him. All the others just barked and snapped at each other in snarling, chainsaw voices. Dib half-tried to understand them, but they were talking in rapid Irken, and he'd never been all that fluent in the first place.
Sullenly he stilled, suppressing the instinct to squirm and make things difficult. Maybe if he was a model prisoner they'd relax a bit and he'd get a chance to – to do what? You're stuck here for the rest of your life, however long that's gonna be, in a sea of hostile aliens! You don't even KNOW anyone! Maybe if Zim was here someone would be enough of a loser to give you a chance at escaping, but there's no way no how that you're going to get out of this with skin intact.
No way. Dib shook his head. There's got to be some chance to get out of here! I can't stop watching for it…
The alien jabbering crescendoed and then scaled back down. Sharp fingers suddenly dug into both of his wrists. Dib gasped at the touch. They're taking me out? But what –
The finger-touches were gone and he wasn't let up. The nattering had gone to a different pitch; Dib was reminded of woodpeckers hammering away at the sides of his house, in incomprehensible drumming Morse code. He twisted up again and tried to look. From the corner of one eye he could see scientists running around – or, rather, walking at an agitated pace. Everyone was filtering away in one general direction. By now there was a bubble of empty space around him. Irkens churned at one entrance like fish roiling in the water. "What?" Dib said. "Hey! Hey! What's going on!"
No one paid him any attention. In a few minutes they'd left him alone and the red room was empty and stunningly quiet, even with the hums and clicks of the foreign machinery around him. The arched door had been left unsecured. It didn't look like any of them were worried about him getting of this table… well, we'll see about that!
Dib craned in every direction, completely puzzled by the sudden lapse in routine, looking for the catch in this sudden lack of supervision. Irkens were efficient, right? They wouldn't just leave him alone in here even if he was strapped to a table… right?
Well, it looked like they had, actually. For no reason he could see, which didn't bode well, but…
He started twisting desperately at his wrists again.
Now was his chance to escape.
..end chapter 15…
August 14, 2006.
Lael Adair gave me a lovely beta reading on this chapter. Go read her stuff now!