Chapter 6: " Unknown "

" You want to what?" Skoodge almost yelled, his eyes widening with shock. Zim plastered his hand against his face and looked around, making sure no other forms of life could've heard his outburst. When he saw no one was around in the near vicinity, a chill passed down his spine, either from relief or fear.

" Shut up, will you? You can't be yelling like that!" He whispered. Skoodge shook his head, frightened and nervously.

" Zim you can't be serious!" He said, quietly, removing the grip from his mouth. Zim furrowed his eyes and tilted his head. This expression made Skoodge shake his head more rapidly. " What has gotten into you!"

" Skoodge, I will need your help." He said, looking around cautiously again. The halls were empty, and no one was in sight, however Zim couldn't shake the feeling of paranoia, knowing someone could still eavesdrop from a distance; The halls would echo the sounds and allow them to do so.

" Zim, I'm not helping you. No, I refuse." He said, and backed away from him. Zim sighed, aggravated.

" I can't do this alone. And I'll tell everyone about you cheating the scores." Zim threatened, as he pointed a finger, and jabbed it into his chest, making him flinch. Skoodge's antennae lowered and he frowned.

" I never cheated the scores! You're lying!" Skoodge said defensively.

" It won't stop people from believing me if I report your malicious crimes to the headmaster." Zim said, crossing his arms. Skoodge's lips pursed, and he was livid. After a few moments, Skoodge began with anger.

"I can't believe you! Why can't you leave me alone!" He said. After a minute of him pacing around, he tried reasoning. "You're going to ruin both of our lives! We're already in training, Zim! Isn't that enough?" He asked, shaking his head. Zim only watched earnestly as he saw him walk around, uptight, nervous. Then, as to be expected, came the guilt. " What did I do wrong to you? I've always been there and I've tried to help. Don't lie about me, Zim. I need to finish this school." Skoodge said, almost desperately. Zim exhaled a long sigh and placed a hand upon his shoulder.

" This isn't military training, Skoodge. These are basic, perfunctory, life-qualification qualities we will learn in order to dwell above. What we do next, determines whether if we will become an Invader, a Navigator, an Advisor, a Soldier, a Service Drone—Anything! Then we will have our qualifications encoded, take our tests, then if we are accepted, we enter into underground training." Zim said. Skoodge had a blank expression on his face for a while before he shrugged and motioned his hands in confusion.

" Wouldn't that be all the more reason WHY we should STAY in here?" Skoodge asked, raising his voice slightly. Zim frowned at this and straightened out his back, raising his chin.

" This school is only for the feeble minded, Skoodge. If you really have the tactics and the skills, you will learn to be able to perform skills and techniques before they consider teaching you." Zim said, placing his hands at his hips.

However Skoodge remained silent from his response, signifying he was still waiting for a plausible explanation, showing how the one he just explained wasn't persuading. Zim sighed again and furrowed his eyebrows at Skoodge.

" System hacking, code breaks, deception, espionage...persuasion." He added, leaning his head towards Skoodge with a small, sly grin. He only did this because he knew when Skoodge was thinking, he would look down to the ground, and a hand would rise to his lips, placing his fingers upon it pensively, which he was currently doing.

" These and more of the pertaining qualities of that of an Irken Invader. These things are viewed as lucrative to our society. To be able to take familiarity within the oblivion of our environments in order to install assets to overrule the factoring problems, and remove them with stealth, cunning work and expertise. If we administer these skills at an earlier stage, it would behoove us rather greatly." Zim said, placing his arms behind his back to portray a likeness of those of the Almighty Tallest. Skoodge thought about his words for a moment. He looked back up from the floor at Zim again.

" You make it seem like if we're going to be rewarded for this...This is beyond breaking the rules, Zim." Skoodge said carefully. Zim disregarded the last comment and raised his chin.

" Rewarded or not, it is truly only the knowledge that we need. Not the attention." Zim said, slightly irresolute in his answer. Skoodge only scratched his head.

" I don't know Zim. Too much is at stake. Can't you just wait for another 5 years? We're almost done with this academy, and we've already been here for around 12." Skoodge shrugged. Zim blinked and a slow exhale escape from his nostrils.

" As I aforementioned, this school is for the feeble minded. I am not feeble minded, Skoodge." He said, even flicking off imaginary lint from his uniform. He only shook his head.

" Okay, then what about me? Why do you want me to help you if you want to get out?"

" Because you're the only one that can help me, Skoodge."

" Why can't you find someone else?" Skoodge said, sighing impatiently. He put a hand upon his forehead and Zim could tell he wanted nothing to do with this. There were many times in the past where Zim would result to the usage of Skoodge for his technical skills and take them to his advantage, however after the constant failures and punishments, there was a lot laden on Skoodge's shoulders that gradually mounted to heights that caused his magnified reluctance, objection and qualms about his ideas.

" You're the only one I trust." Zim said lightly. Skoodge looked up from the floor and at him for a few moments. He was seeing if what he said was true. To justify his claim, Zim placed a hand on his shoulder. Skoodge sighed again and reconsidered the ideas, looking back down to the floor. Zim let out an easy breath, knowing the results were well in his favor. He removed his hand from his shoulder and tried not to show how uncomfortable that situation he had put himself in was.

" Still...what...I..." He paused and let out a frustrated exhale. "What if your plan doesn't work?...I mean...you know, What if we—"

Skoodge was interrupted by the school alarm, and it was the indication that there was to be the transition from the academic training to the physical. Zim looked around again as the sounds of the boots stomping upon the metal floors in the near distance echoed intimidatingly. Zim glanced back at Skoodge and lowered his head, looking him in the eyes with solemnity from the dire of the situation. Skoodge's eyes widened and they both knew that if they were caught to be the only ones in the hallway, it could jeopardize everything by raising suspicions in every other student. One thing Zim was glad for was the quickness in Skoodge's awareness, almost reading his mind, Skoodge rapidly made the decision and finally whispered Fine! I'm in!

A feeling of success passed through Zim, as it gave rest to his nerves in the situation. Zim grinned as they turned from each other and parted, feeling confidence jolt around in his body. Soon he conformed within the crowd, and followed suit. Skoodge lacked the mind to say no to Zim. Even if he refused at first, with simple reasoning and persuasion, Skoodge would do anything he wanted. He was weak that way; easily manipulated. And yet not smart enough to notice it. Zim thought. He was always an easy asset. A tool always capable of being found when lost. Then again...that was all Skoodge was ever needed and good for.

Zim opened his eyes and had to spend a few moments trying to comprehend his current place. After being able to recognize that what he experienced beforehand was a dream, he realized he was on the couch and had fallen asleep again. Curse these habits. I never randomly chose times to sleep before until that trash-computer gave that stupid advice. Zim thought, closing his eyes as he stretched out. When he relaxed his muscles, and opened his eyes more slowly, he saw that the sun had been leaking rays in the windows, and shined a clear, brightness in the house. Zim sat up and felt a nauseous reaction to the force put upon his body when doing so. His head hurt slightly from being in an upright position, feeling the negative effects of gravity pull upon his head.

" Computer: tell me the time." He said, blinking slowly as he scratched his neck.

" 1:20 pm." He stated. Zim's eyes widened to an extent, as much as he could from his tired state.

" What is today?" He asked, this time more demanding.

" Sunday." This brought a sense of relief, and he sighed to himself as he rested his head back against the headrest of the couch. He closed his eyes, and breathed more slowly. Damn it, Now I'm worrying about being late for school...Curse all of these...abnormally obtained habits. He cursed mentally. His eyelids burned from the ache of his forehead, garnering heat around his head and body from his sickness. It was times like these where he questioned his sudden immune system's weaknesses and his sporadic vulnerability to the germs and pathogens of the world.

Although he knew it was inevitable, for the fact that to enter upon an entire new universe would contain more species and strands of diseases and illnesses that would affect him greatly. Though it didn't mean it didn't piss him off whenever his mission was delayed because of a stupid...

Ah...Interesting.

The sound of a generator running, and of the motors pushing from the kitchen took Zim from his mind. He knew those sounds belonged to when one would descend or rise from the transporter tube. And there were only two people capable of physical transportation. He raised his head and looked into the direction of the kitchen entryway. Zim watched as Gir had risen from the toilet and gingerly stepped down. His indentations were still present and he made his way, cautiously, to the living room. However when he realized he was under the undivided scrutiny of his superior, he stopped immediately and his eyes widened.

Zim felt a mixture of reactions to this. A sneer formed on his face and he forgot about his illness. He felt irritated as he remembered how he had so cowardly ran away and remained in hiding for days. Angry at how he so foolishly thought that he could stride up into the living room any time he wanted, after what he did. A punishment was in due of this, and Zim fed his anger to the thoughts as he furrowed his eyes, wanting to exact it towards the well-deserving imbecile. In turn, Gir's eyes lowered in a doleful fashion, and his lower lip shivered. He cringed against the corner of the wall and removed his eyes from Zim to the ground, not knowing what to do.

Confused. Fearful. Zim saw this, and when he realized that Gir's mind was as limited as it was, he stopped and thought about the rationality of his feelings. He glanced down to the floor and let his thoughts take his mind. He exhaled a few silent deep breaths, and the umbrage he felt towards his presence was gone. Zim glanced back up at Gir, who's eyes remained the same, however were now lightened with confusion, and felt an inward disappointment. At what? Zim wasn't so sure. He exhaled through his nostrils and shook his head slightly. But then he saw something in the corner of his eye, and when he turned to look at it, the feelings of his anger resurfaced.

It was that damned hole in the wall. The one that was still left untouched and not a single attempt to fix it. The kitchen was visible through it, the broken wood board and plaster, not to mention the stains of blood.

" Computer...why is there still a hole in the wall?" Zim asked, furrowing his eyes again. He looked back at the TV screen and released an air of impatience.

" There...There was no command for me to—"

" Oh—Was that what you were waiting for? My command? My damned command to tell you that you need to fix yourself? Your damage?!" He snapped.

" I-I am under your authority, sir. I cannot act without your direct demands and wills."

" You see the damage, Computer! the damage that was done to you! It has been there for 3 days! You are under my authority, but you do not wait for any authorization to heal yourself!" Zim almost yelled. This house was the entity of what he called the Computer; the main data and functional properties were of his engine and generators, however he controlled all of the devices and outputs; he had even built the house when Zim designed an outlook for the structure. He controlled the very functionality of this domain, and so to command the Computer to fix itself was pointless, as it was supposed to have done so without notification or precept. It was as redundant as telling an Irken to breath.

"...Sir...If I may; you presented this conversation with the wording implying you had previous commandment which I, in that case, had wrongfully ignored, and you were indignant. If you were concerned over my welfare, why follow your argument with anger? If no wrongful act hadn't been committed? Needless to say, the damage was also on virtue upon the feud between You, and S.I.R. unit Gir."

The Computer said, as lightly as possible. For the longest moments, Zim couldn't form speech. His tongue stayed glued in his mouth, and his eyes widened upon his claim. It formed mortification over his unwillingness to act and then the anger ensued. He gritted his teeth and glowered.

" You dare blame me for the damage? As If I aimed upon you with intention?"

" Sir, with all due respect; those words never left me."

Zim, again, had been outmaneuvered. Such an act, to purposefully question the doings of an officer, when the insolent inquiries belonged to that of an underling, and to agitate them with useless and offensive probing, could be worthy of punishment. Zim's face had turned a darker green, and he stood from his seat.

" Of all times, when you could've used that conscious of yours, you choose now. When you couldn't apply it to following orders, or even to fix yourself. When you feel the need to try and justify your worthless existence, you use it. In altercations." Zim hissed.

" What use is a mind when all it does is slow down your processing, your production, and corrode your value? What's next? Am I to command you to use it when needed?" Zim clenched his fists, and in that moment he had wished to see an expression; one that could reflect that of cowardice and subjection. The ultimate refusal to respond in another insolent fashion and to see the damage his words had done; to see the . Alas, it was the engines the computer twisted involuntarily, the processors and the wire networks that functioned as a brain that made him satisfied; knowing that his emotions were still there, and how he could tell the intensity of which they occurred judging by the ferocity of the machines turning and activating, despite how efficient they were at these tasks with silence.

"...No Sir..." The Computer responded, morosely. The pain from his headache rebounded and Zim slightly leaned forward, and grasped his brow. The illness shot back nerves and reminded him of it's presence. He closed his eyes temporarily to linger in the pain, before he would disregard it's presence. Zim took a deep breath and straightened his back, folding his arms behind it. His eyes thinned, however he kept his glare upon the screen and released a deep breath. He was again imitating the likeness of the Almighty Tallest.

" Let's hope so..."

• • •

Gaz had been drawing again, however, the majority of the time she had spent on her sketchbook, was making outlines and shapes, then erasing them and trying again. Her task was to draw a human in a sitting pose at her best ability, though concerning that she had never drawn before, it wasn't to be sublime. A practice was the intention. Though this proved to be frustrating by how scrupulous Gaz was and how superlative she was wanting the outcomes from her time spent on this to be. She would growl and flip the pencil around the grasp of her fingers, changing from it's edge to the base, and erase ferociously at the horrid details she had drawn.

Drawing never concerned her. To be talented in any aspect never came to mind, and to be meticulous in practicing any activity wasn't important to her until now. Why was she so persistent on having perfection? And why wasn't she achieving this? Gaz lingered on the thoughts, but when her eagle eyes saw her hands make a mistake, she let out a yell.

" Stupid paper!" Gaz roared, and clenched the rod of her pencil and violently jabbed the eraser at the sketch pad and pivoted her elbow. Resulting in a fierce, and rugged laceration at the thin framework of her paper, bending and folding in the path of her attempted erasing. She cast the sketch pad away from her, slapped against the wall, and fell down to the floor. Nothing had ever made her so frustrated before, and she even held her hands in fists. Immaturity at it's finest, however she felt righteously angry. It wasn't her fault that she couldn't draw. And if she had never drawn before, why did it have to be at her best ability? She raged at her thoughts and brought her feet upon the couch, rested her head against the armrest, crossed her arms and turned on the TV with the remote.

" Gaz? You alright?" Her father asked, over the walls of the other room in the kitchen.

" Fine." She said. " Stupid teacher." She mumbled soon after. Along the lines, there were a few utterances of execration. Gaz tapped her finger rapidly on her arm, and watched the commercials that played with detachment and petulance. From any unaware person, if they were to enter the room and spot her glaring at the TV like so, they would have amused thoughts. Though after a while, the shows managed to seep the peevishness from her, but also was just as capable to replace it with impatience. Gaz had been watching a few cartoon programs, which in fact none of them have helped in taking away her anger, but because spent her mind on something else, it was drained.

What she normally watched, in contrast of those horrid cartoon programs, was sci-fies, thrillers, investigations and murder mysteries, etc. It was a great pastime for her, however currently, and conveniently, there weren't any of her favorite shows on at all. So she resulted, in a hurried, and impetuously, in watching cartoons. Gaz thought that the aloofness and lightness of the cartoons, both in style and mood, would cheer her into a better attitude. It only managed to make it a degree lower.

Gaz turned off the TV, and placed a hand on her brow. She went over her thoughts and realized her tantrums. She reflected slightly, but not entirely from viewing of mistakes. At least...not any from her.

It wasn't until she heard Dib's and their father's conversation that she realized their presence. She remembered that when their father came home, he immediately asked for Dib's presence in the kitchen, once again, and Gaz waved this and continued drawing. She listened more keenly on their conversation, now that she was more conscious about it, and understood the subject they were conversing about.

" Dad...I understand you think I owe Zim an apology, for stealing from him, for calling him an alien...But if you listened, if you just listened to my side, you would understand more."

" Son. I'm trying to teach you morals about people and their respective cultures."

" Zim isn't a person!" Dib emphasized.

" Lower you voice; Who do you think you are talking to?" His dad said firmly. A sigh escape from Dib's mouth and Gaz imagined him putting a hand against his forehead.

" Even if he was, he has no respect for anybody else, he even made fun of you." Dib said, defensively.

" I rise above those insults because they come in forms of opinions, Dib. All of the facts I already know about." His father said.

At around that time Gaz stopped listening and sighed. It wasn't until Dib had his suspicions about Zim again that their Father-Son conferences reestablished. And it seemed that it was always revolving around Zim. It was self-explanatory on why that was, however it was almost like their lives revolved around his life. If Gaz's father, and especially Dib, learned how to ignore the inept, things would be better between the two. They wouldn't have constant arguments and restarted conversations if Dib learned to leave Zim alone, and if their Father saw what Dib and Gaz had seen.

She sighed once more and slouched against the chestnut, cotton couch and drummed her fingers against the plush cushions. Her eyes paced back and forth from her sketchbook and the front of her lap. It bothered her to know that she was concerned about something so unreasonably hard to do. However because of it's difficulty, it proved frustratingly stupid how much she wanted to improve. However, she didn't feel too charitable to start trying to draw again; the anger still lingering from her last attempt. And after that, she began listening to the conversation once more.

" All I want for you is to respect people." His father said, gently.

" I do, Dad...I just don't respect him."

" Why? What is it with him that unsettles you so much?"

" If I told you why, you wouldn't believe me." Dib said, complaining in a slight whiny way. Gaz imagined him to be pouting slightly. Like he always does when he uses that annoying tone of voice. She hated whenever Dib whined, it always felt like a scratch at her ears. And it didn't help his cause in any way, concerning it got him no where with anyone he spoke to with. Unless it was Dad...But they were always having that conversation, so he didn't count.

Gaz tried to continue listening, but there was a silence between them. One that she imagined would be uncomfortable to be in, especially with a parent.

" Dib...if anything...I want you to tell me. If anything, I want to believe you..."

Gaz stuck out her tongue and momentarily, and suffered the awkwardness for Dib. She always hated those moments where an elder or loved one tried to comfort you with an extended hand and compliment side by side, whenever you were feeling down or dejected in any sort. Or those times where there was a dispute. And heated words were exchanged, and where after a while you would make up and apologize; those icky, warm moments that made the heart melt and the stomach puke rainbows. It was more awkward than anything else in the entire world. However at the same time, Gaz realized something. An accompanying emotion that confused her in the process.

Their father would have this little meeting with Dib for almost weeks on end. All the while, for her to stay out of the kitchen while they talked. Even though she could hear through the echoes that passed the halls, They talked. They talked for hours. Sometimes it wouldn't be too long, only around 15 minutes. Despite the duration of their conversation, it was always about their father trying to teach Dib better. About how he was trying to mold him to have high morals.

Why? Professor Membrane had high expectations of his children. But that would be inaccurate to say...a more acute, correct alternative would be he had high expectations of his son. He was always trying to make him into a better person, trying to teach him the rights from the wrongs. Whenever Dib got into trouble, he would chastise, and then show a caring, helpful hand. One that a father should do.

However, there was no reprimanding whenever Gaz did something bad. There was no loving generosity after wards either. Then again, the reason why that was, was only because the last command from her father she could remember was when she was little, and when he had told her to "Don't do it again." And that was only because she did the usual a child wasn't supposed to; disobey their parent's rule. After wards, she minded her own business.

She did what she was supposed to. She didn't do what she wasn't. It made sense why their meetings were so frequent; Dib couldn't get his head through the meaning of what his father wanted from him, and same went for his father; He didn't quite understand what Dib did. Gaz didn't have any problems with Zim, he was just some weirdo kid who Dib called an alien. It wasn't any of her business of whom Dib liked and didn't, so she didn't pay much attention towards it.

She began to ponder upon the rationality of the feelings this "new founded information" brought. If anything, this information was old. She found this out a few years ago when Dib began taking interests in engineering. It was something that made their father more proud than ever, and at the time Gaz hated it. She felt betrayed and she felt that she would never forgive Dib for being the favorite child, however over the years she learned to accept that parents had their expectations from their children. Sadly enough, not all of them met those. Gaz learned to shrug it off a few years back, and remembering it now seemed to take a small toll.

She looked down upon her hands and sighed quietly. She hated feeling wronged, at something so trivial. So what if Dad liked Dib more than me? Am I to forever hold a grudge against him because I didn't receive the amount of attention I would've liked? No, that's stupid. If my dad felt that I was a normal, nothing-special kid, than so be it. She thought and closed her rested fingers into a small, bunched grip. As much as she hated to think about it, it came back to her wanting of drawing. It was probably a sub-conscious way of wanting to prove to her father, which she felt was a very pitiable attempt, that she could be better then he expected.

" Son...you have great potential; I've seen it through your skills. In engineering, your curiosity. Though you center your time around these paranormal things and especially around Zim...I just want you to live your life without regret." She heard her father say, and made her pensively wonder about those words and meaning.

Those words...potential...skills...Could my father say the same? To me?