How Bright the Stars Look

-x-

"You're not helping, Zim!" He threw the spanner over his shoulder when he saw that anything he tried to do would be as futile as it was hopeless.

"It's your fault." Zim deduced at last.

"And I told you the carbine was broken." He stared at the dim trail of stars above, most of which disappeared behind a wall of smoke. You couldn't see them most nights, not in the city anyhow. He wearily hunted for his slightly flattened pack of cigarettes when his beeper went off.

Zim rolled his eyes. "I told you to shut that thing off."

"I can't. It's work. I have a meeting in twenty minutes."

"Call it off."

The ice-cool wind blew the smoke of Dib's cigarette around as he stood up.

"Dib? Hey? Are you even listening?"

"Look. I gotta go."

-x-

More times than not, he thought of charging in there, but he stalled just before his feet started to move.

He stood outside in the snow and blinding cold, claws wedged deep in deep pockets as he watched the fool add in another mixture to his bubbling vial of mixtures. Sometimes other humans would block his view, obscuring the lank, gangly figure. A different world moved around in there, like lost souls bound to their own delirium. They reminded him of mortuary assistants in their white lab coats. Dib stunk of about every chemical he had ever come across, and it made him feel ill.

Caught between waves of rage and hate, he spun round and marched through the slush-ice on the pavement.

He couldn't see the stars tonight. The blizzard obscured them, cutting him off from up there, from the only place he knew.

-x-

The same notification kept coming up, requiring his attention. Blowing out a sigh, he magnified it on the screen, seeing that the problem was in one of the lower sections where the original base had configured itself long ago when he had first settled here. Taking a small toolkit with him, he passed Gir on the way out. He was watching TV in the middle of the couch, munching on the usual crap.

"I'm going down below, Gir for some general maintenance. Don't do anything stupid while I'm gone."

Gir barely looked his way. "Okay!" And he stuffed more cheesy nachos into his mouth.

He took the conduit, gripping the handle of the toolbox. Levels shot past as he descended, the temperature dropping as he neared the very bottom. He felt the purr and hum of the ever-constant generators and engines. Below that were the pipes ferrying power and energy around the base. When he reached D level, he was a little unnerved by the damp and clear decay that had begun to fester down the long, unwelcome chambers. Rivulets of water, possibly sewage, ran down seams and venting. As he stepped off the conduit, he stepped into murky cold water that came to his ankles.

"Computer! What is this?" He demanded as he stood, disgusted and perplexed by how severe the situation had become.

"There is a leak, somewhere in section D3 where the coolants reside." Intoned the computer without missing a beat.

"Where exactly?"

"My systems cannot determine exactly where, master. A manual check is necessary."

He grimaced, not in the best of moods to go bending in and under cold, leaky pipes, into a cold, decaying corridor he should have maintained years ago. But he could not ignore this. If there was a coolant leak, or worse, his base could lose power, systems could melt, and it might even put his livelihood in jeopardy.

He proceeded, trying not to wince as cold, dirty water lapped at his boots. He tried not to think of little slithering things living in it, or the germs that might possibly contaminate him. As he went, his polished black glove feeling the smooth velvet of the walls to keep him supported, he noticed some of the overhead lights were either winking on and off in a sporadic fashion, or weren't functioning at all. The way ahead was dark. His eyes could see deeper in, he did not need lights to see his way forward, but the darkness before him gurgled and plopped, manifesting every phobia that had ever plagued him.

He stopped to put on a pair of goggles to protect his eyes, and then he slushed forwards, the water dripping and splashing over the lip of his boots to drench his socks and feet. He winced.

"How much further, computer?" He had to stop. The murk and water had completely swallowed the floor, and he had no way to tell where the pipes were to avoid tripping over them.

There was no answer.

A little unnerved, he stepped back into the vicinity of the computer's reach. He had forgotten how deep and how far this corridor went, even surpassing that of his computer's all-seeing, all-reaching communication. He repeated his question.

"Approximately twenty metres ahead." It spoke.

The water slapped along the sides and rims of the corridor. The space around him felt so enclosed and confined. It wrapped a hand around his throat and chest.

"Wh-which valve?" He asked.

"D3, from one of the middle pipes."

He took a breath, and clenched down on the handle of his toolbox. He had grown more used to living an underground life, in an underground base. Going a little further down should prove no challenge at all, like the goddamn mole he had become. But he was also aware that he was that much further away from the stars, and escape.

Splashing his way further in, he came to a low ceiling, and beyond that, a service tunnel. The constriction loomed back at him, his throat closing over at the mere thought of going down there.

Deciding to play it safe, he opened out his toolbox and pulled out a parcel of compact clothing. Stretching it out with a flick of his hands, the purple parcel unfolded, becoming his spaceship outfit. He pulled it on, wet boots and all, and adjusted the oxygen supply by tweaking the valve. Air hissed into his translucent helmet he slipped on over his head, and he turned back to the dark tunnel. His heart was pounding.

If it was a mere leak, all he had to do was replace the valve, or even seal it. It could take minutes, and then all he would have to do was suction out all the water. He took another breath, his heart hammering away like a piston, and he ducked low, taking his time as he felt his way forwards, the walls closing in on him like jaws.

His eyes picked out low dials, rivets and seams that looked messy and not well joined. The water level continued to rise. Soon he was wading through knee-deep water. His toes and ankles were blistering from earlier contact with it, making it harder for him to concentrate. He had always imagined that polluted water contained these tiny, microscopic nibbling things, because of the way he felt like he was being eaten alive.

There was a sudden clank and clatter behind him and the world just got darker. He spun round, breathing hard, his harsh panting echoing back in loud, desperate splutters against and around the tight, shrinking walls.

"Com-computer?" He lurched forward, hand slapping against a wet wall, his antennae as rigid as much as they were tall. "Computer! Respond!" He met a wall where his exit used to be. Panic started, sudden and sharp, and he couldn't breathe past it. "COMPUTER! RESPOND!" Darkness resounded back, that and the lap and whisper of the water.

Okay. Don't panic! You're in a spacesuit! You have air!

Another voice: Fuck the leak. Just get out! Think of another plan later when you're up top and dry!

He tried to find a way through the blockage. The pipes above had burst, settling in the tunnel like debris.

He wanted to leave, and he opened out his PAK, with every tool and device rousing to his aid. Aiming, and focusing his energy, he blasted the wall of pipe and detritus. And then everything went black as something immensely heavy fell on top of him.

-x-

He got home from work, tired but mostly demoralised. The few praises and heartfelt nods he got from his father were just enough to keep him on his feet, when his colleagues would only glare at him.

They're just jealous.

It was a thought that occurred all too often. Calculations had to be exact. Distractions meant mistakes. Science brooked no alternatives save the immediate determination to get it right the first time.

They didn't know what it cost. They didn't know what it meant.

But he kept making mistakes anyway.

He slipped out of his lab coat that still smelt of ethanol and chloride and dumped it on the back of his chair.

He looked to the phone, filled with the usual messages, toppled with the mixture of guilt and resentment when he remembered what he had last said to Zim. The Irken never had a sense of discernment, be it his life or the responsibilities involved in it.

"It's over, Dib!" He had sprung into his path, sparking tube in-hand while the biggest, ugliest worm Dib had ever seen coughed and heaved behind him. Dib had actually stopped to look at it, phone in one hand.

"You made that?"

"Of course I did, you fool! Look and grovel before it in awe as it engulfs you humans one at a time!"

"Right…" But the worm just kind of sagged there, seemingly melting on the pavement as it coughed and heaved. "Look, I don't have time for this right now..."

"What do you mean? This thing's gonna eat someone if you don't do something!"

"If you had half the brains, and half the time that I do, Zim, you wouldn't waste it by being so… stupid!"

"What?"

"Just… just get out of my way. I gotta go."

"I'm your enemy, Dib! Face me when I'm talking to you!"

Dib had stopped and turned and stared coolly back at him. It was fairly easy these days to trick him just long enough to keep him away. "How 'bout we play a game, Zim."

"A… game?"

"Yeah. Hide and Seek. You know the rules, right? You go hide. And if I can't find you, you win."

It had stopped Zim, and his loud obnoxious speeches dead as he stood there, drawn, dumbfounded, possibly even hurt. He had felt mean about it when he had been bending over a Petri dish hours later, when he had simply wanted to put aliens and Zim far behind him.

"What's wrong, son? You look gloomy today." His father had passed him a cheerful, if slightly discerning look.

"It's nothing." He said. "Work's piling up. I better get to it."

"Don't stay too long. The stars are especially bright tonight! We are the closest to Andromeda than we've ever been before! It's a worthwhile sight!" And he clapped him on the shoulder.

-x-

"Zim? Hey?"

His eyes wildly fluttered open, shocked to discover that he couldn't see much, save the stars exploding in an infinite black that wouldn't go away, no matter how many times he blinked. Confusion spilled over him when he couldn't remember where he was, with only Dib's soft, recognizable voice coming from somewhere close by. Water was suddenly in his mouth, his throat, and he struggled upright on cold, shaking elbows, trying to choke it out. His helmet was bright with flashy warnings, and the dark around him was warmly lit up by the pinks of his PAK, but something was wrong. There was a weight on his back, greater than what he was used to.

He tried to turn under it, or shift himself when that failed to do anything. Hefting his shoulders, trying to lever his body with his aching elbows, he tried to turn to see what had pinned him in place. Something heavy, angular and metallic leered into view. He was also lying in water. His suit's thermals kept him warm to a degree, and he could breathe, save for the bile he kept trying to swallow.

"Where… where am I…?" He woozily tried to shift himself again, aware that he was stuck, that being stuck was no good at all.

Trying to get anything to emerge from his PAK soon proved just as futile. Things cranked and moaned back, and when a searing, alarming pain tore through his system, he collapsed into the water, coughing and moaning.

"Computer…?" His coughed, gurgling words echoed back inside his helmet. The tunnel he was in suddenly seemed very small, very thin and very narrow. The thought of being so far underground, in the dark, with no computer and no stars to aid him started to become very real. Fear ripped through him, tearing apart logic and sanity.

Summoning all his strength, he tried heaving the rubble off him again. His willowy arms shook, his exhalations thundering against his antennae in the closed confines of his helmet. The oxygen percentage ticked down – and with each exertion the digits fell by another ten percent.

I've got to get out of here!

The computer will notify Gir! Gir will come down here! I just have to hold on!

He grew exhausted, and sagged back down into the cold bilge and water. It was now lapping against his helmet. He was pretty sure he could hear oxygen hissing out of a regulator or valve, as it steadily filled the small service tunnel. His memory of this place wasn't so fantastic, but he was sure there was a stairway leading up and down somewhere in this tunnel. All he had to do was reach it.

He gave another heave, arching his back with his elbows and shoulders braced beneath the weight. It felt like he was being crushed by a boulder. Something popped, it could have been part of the rubble trying to turn him into a pancake or it could have been his PAK. The pain came again, a snapping, electrifying sensation that ran through his body and antennae like lightning. With a final groan he managed to raise his shoulders another inch, and something finally shifted.

He tried to crawl the rest of the way out to escape the unbearable pressure, watching the oxygen numbers fall to the low twenties. His claws pawed uselessly through water, the dark all the more pressing and confining and terrifying as claustrophobia bore down on him. There was more hissing in his tube, and he swore he could taste the deluge he was in. If his suit had sprung a hole…

Come on! Think! You can get out of this! It's just a setback! A minor setback! This is nothing for an Elite! Just got to… focus!

He tried to free his legs. He could feel the cold and the damp begin to sink through him despite the thermal regulators of his suit. Light from his helmet would bounce back across the water, revealing nothing but dark, wavering ink and a dark, wavering ceiling as water and shadows refracted and danced. Using one hand, he frantically sought for his toolkit. He couldn't remember if he had dropped it during the cave-in, or if he had safely put it to one side.

His claws sought nothing but water.

Panic grew, like a bright, unadulterated flare.

It was so dark in here!

Resorting to his fists, he banged on whatever he could reach, hoping the noises would summon Gir, or the computer. "GIR? COMPUTER! I need assistance! NOW!" The panic was in his voice, a white nova of agony, and it made him feel worse.

Don't panic don't panic you'll only make it worse don't make it worse you can do this you're Zim you'll be fine just FINE!

He squinted his eyes at the oxygen reading, a reading he didn't want to look at anymore.

Dib. Dib will come… once he…

HAHA! You have more chance of the Tallest making a personal visit to this hellhole you call a base! He won't come!

YOU have got to get yourself out! You have to! You've been through worse!

He pulled again, desperate, tired, his legs wedged and pinned. Nothing would work. The PAK wouldn't work. It cranked and complained, as if something had wedged it shut, or that something had penetrated it. The water was rising. It was now past his shoulders and hips. But, because of the buoyancy, the rubble began to shift as the water climbed, and he could feel the pressure beginning to give. With a groan and another heave, he popped out, treading water. Struggling to his feet, he managed to stagger upright, choking and coughing, but the panic wouldn't loosen as easily as the rubble. He wrangled off his helmet, only to drink in the putrid stink of sewage, water and dark confines. He couldn't get a full breath, and his muscles were cramping. Closer now to the ceiling, he started thumping on it with his fists.

"Gir? Computer? I'm trapped! Get me out of here!"

He screamed, as loudly as he could.

There's got to be a way out! Find it, now! Before it's too late!

But he couldn't face going under the surface to feel for another way, or to go deeper into the murk and blackness. Fear froze him to a standstill, his only drive to pommel his fists on the ceiling and scream.

-x-

Dib woke with as start, blinking in the near darkness. The dream had been awful, and it clattered about in his head like loose nails. He looked at his bedside clock. It was four thirty in the morning.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, he got up and weaved his tired way downstairs. Opening the fridge, the door light bombarding his sleepy eyes, he selected an ice cold bottle of water and snapped open the cap.

Did I get all the chemical solutions right? He leaned back against the counter, surmising that the mixture had been correct, and that he had followed his father's instructions to the letter. He tirelessly tried to think of everything, in much the same way his father did. Perhaps that was the problem, when there was less wonder and more analytical judgements at play. You couldn't be mathematical and analytical when you were trudging through an abandoned warehouse looking for ghosts, and aliens didn't help in this regard either. Wonder and awe came hand in hand when the paranormal was far less predictable and fantastical.

He looked to his calendar on the fridge door. It was October the 24th. He had circled that date some months before, hoping to schedule a day off. The day was not as special as it used to be, but regardless, it was the day when Zim had first arrived. Call it a reluctant anniversary of sorts. Zim probably didn't care, and didn't remember. Dates and times were human inventions according to Earth's orbit, when Irkens probably used a completely different system. It was funny though, when Zim had always turned up for skool on time.

He sighed, putting the bottle of water back in the fridge.

"What's wrong, Zim? You look… less green than normal."

"It's nothing. It's just this miserable Earth weather." And he had pushed past him, on his way to the supermarket with Gir on a leash.

Dib had looked up at the sky, seeing nothing unusual or especially miserable. The stars had been blanketed by fog, leaving the world feeling grey and overcast.

-x-

He stood at the crooked, purple door. The glowering gnomes looked back with their discerning, gloating eyes. Distantly, a dog was barking. The sun was peeking out through the clouds, but the overcast day had done little to arrest the puddles that littered the street. In his infinite wisdom, he hadn't brought an umbrella.

The door creaked open, revealing Zim's little evil, unhinged robot.

"Hi, Gir." He said as he casually observed the parlour. The TV was playing, and the floor was untidy with food packets and the like. He wasn't used to seeing so much as a crumb on the floor, with an OCD Irken destroying every particle of dirt or dust into oblivion. "Where's Zim? Is he… urm… available?"

Gir stepped back, inviting him inside. "He gone! Don't know where. Maybe through the walls?"

"He's gone?" He asked, thinking that Zim had gone on a mundane trip in his Voot Runner. It wasn't always common, with Zim preferring to stay guarding his base and therefore his existence, but on occasion he left wherever duty dictated him to go. But he would never say where or for how long.

"But he never left…" Gir continued.

"What?" He raised an eyebrow. He huffed and looked around. "Look, if you see him, ask him if he knows how to maximise production with the Chiral compound." He offered him a slip of paper for him to take. It was covered with solutions and mathematical equations.

Gir looked at it dumbly. Dib sighed again and shoved it into his metal hand. Then he turned round to head for the door, only to pause. Zim was probably just busy creating some doomsday device, but it was very rare of him to not show up.

"Is the Voot Runner gone?" He asked.

"No. It still up there!" Gir replied happily, as if pleased to answer such easy questions.

Maybe the idiot took a nap. He does that… sometimes.

"Computer," he addressed, "can you leave Zim a message?"

"I am not an answering machine." Testily replied the computer.

"Then where is he?"

"He is currently repairing a fault in the lower section of the base."

"Fine, fine." He waved his goodbyes and headed out.

-x-

He waded as far as he could, no longer sure which way he had come, and which way he should go. The cold was rapidly spreading, and he could no longer feel his hands or feet. He had no idea how long he had been down here for, and if Gir had even so much as noticed his absence. Would he even try to find him? Or would he continue to sit there on that couch, watching TV until the Earth stopped spinning?

His PAK would pulse in strange and unnerving ways, and he had a feeling that the cave-in had damaged it, but he didn't know how much, and if it was even worth pulling it out of his spine to check when the damage might be beyond his expertise.

The water was up to his chest. His suit was the only thing keeping it from scorching and burning him. He was also aware that the space between the water and the ceiling was closing, and that each breath he took reduced the air pocket, with the suit barely having any oxygen left.

I will not succumb! This is not how I end!

He kept desperately looking for any way out. Eventually he came across the original leak. It was much further forward than he had anticipated, way below the massive coolants above. The water pressure had increased to bursting, and the pipes had cracked. Using what little oxygen he had left in his suit, he plunged beneath the surface to overlook the problem. The latticework of cracks was problematic, even if there hadn't been all this water to contend with.

Bursting through the surface by way of climbing whatever he could grasp and grab, he hunted for his toolkit. It was the only way. He could kick at the walls, and spend all his strength screaming, and then what?

His boots kicked something. He plunged down again, and saw the toolkit on the floor beneath chunks of metal. Going down was easier, the weight of his PAK made him sink, and he grabbed the kit. Going back up again wasn't so fun, and he wrenched and pulled himself back up using whatever leverage he could feel for.

He opened up the bag in the tiny air pocket. His gloves were wet and sopping, and his body would cramp and shiver at the worst possible times.

"Where is it, where is it?" He found the mini blowtorch but the next cramp turned his hand into a frozen sculpture and the blowtorch disappeared with a plop.

All he wanted to do there and then was thrash against the walls. "Gir…! Please! If you can hear me! Get me out!"

He hugged the wall, one trembling claw wrapped around a capillary pipe. There was only six inches of space left between the ceiling and the water. He couldn't think. Everything was static, everything just made him want to panic.

He tried not to think of suffocation, of how unbearable it was going to be, when it was all he could think about. But it was the cold that was robbing him of energy far quicker. He could barely grip the piping to stop him from going under, and he couldn't swim. His back and legs would spasm for minutes at a time, forcing him to arch or curl or tense until it was over. The lack of air was also making him dizzy, tired, and disorientated.

"Computer… please… please don't let me die here…"

The cold was awful. The chasm of obliteration was awful. Again and again he tried to make himself dive down for the blowtorch when it was now much too far, when he was much too cold, and too exhausted. He stared up at the rapidly disappearing ceiling, at what little headroom he had left and tried not to think when all he could think about was if he was ever going to make it out.

He tried to wedge his arm and leg around the pipe to keep him up. The water was up to his chin. Sometimes he would hear sounds. He wasn't sure if they were just echoes coming from him, his shivery movements against the pipe work, the sounds from the base as it pulsed and worked, or from something else.

The water rippled against him, glugging and plopping and whispering. Each breath echoed in the tight space around him. He was shivering so badly now he couldn't stay still. There was nothing left in him but to simply hang on.

Cold. I'm so cold.

Barely metres from him, up above, he could hear the plasma channelling through the tubes, of the massive coolant tanks humming. Home was just beyond these walls.

Dib was there with him. He was holding on to a pipe directly in front of him.

"H-Hey Dib stink. W-What took you so l-long?" He said, trying to smile when his body would convulsively shake and spasm. He was aware of how sickly his gasps were.

"What? Was I on a timer?" Dib rolled his eyes.

"Do you know t-the w-way o-o-out?"

"It's up there, isn't it?" And he pointed at the ceiling. "Just blow your way out."

"Even if I c-could… the coolants are di-directly above me…" His throat felt sore, bloated, and he was sure water had got into his lungs too.

"Then down, then." And Dib pointed to as such.

Zim tried to laugh, but all he managed to do was cough up blood. "I c-can't. There's n-nothing down there. Only…. Only w-water."

"What will you do? You can't stay down here, Zim."

"Can you j-just… ju-just stay awhile…?"

Dib cocked his head at him. Sometimes he wasn't always there, and he would see the wall and the cold piping behind him. Sadness and grief flooded through him. "Then you gotta stay awake, space jerk. You can do that, can't you?"

"Heh. I c-can do th-that." His smile faltered, when suddenly he didn't feel like he could do it. He looked up, and he could see them. How bright they were, speckled along the metal ceiling like millions of dazzling sparks that had caught the light. "The stars… Dib. I can see the stars…"

-x-

Gir opened the door to see Dib peering gloomily back at him. "Has Zim got back yet? I really need that formula."

Gir shook his head. "He still busy I guess."

"But it's been like two days. Christ, how much repair does this place need? It's spotless." He wandered in any way when Gir didn't budge from the doorway. "Is he hiding from me? Is that it?"

Gir shrugged. "I'm hungry." He said. "The fridge is empty."

"How 'bout eating the carpet?" He strode across the aforementioned carpet and peered into the kitchen. His boots crunched on half eaten chip wrappers and fastfood boxes. There was little else to see save the toilet and the table and two chairs. "Computer! Summon Zim! I don't care how pissed he is! I need some help here!"

He heard the computer sigh. It was a very loud sigh.

While he waited, Dib peered into the fridge to see that Gir was telling the truth. There was not a single scrap of food left save Zim's precious ration packs (that were obviously so horrible even Gir wouldn't eat them) and the usual tiny glass orange bottles of cough syrup. Next to these were various beakers and measuring cups containing some liquid chemical that may or may not be what he was looking for.

Finally, the computer said, "He is not answering. He may be beyond any vicinity where I can make contact."

"Right…" He said on autopilot, thinking of just how deep and insane and labyrinthine his base could possibly be. "Then he's gone off-grid?"

"Possibly, yes."

"You don't seem very sure."

"Do you want to get into specifics?"

Dib rolled his eyes and had another look around. What am I still doing here for? He thought. Zim obviously hadn't the time or care to solve the formula, since he was so occupied with something else. "When will he be back?" He was already imagining how his father would look at him when he returned to the lab without an answer. He knew it was wrong to get Zim to do the homework for him anyway… it was just…

"Undetermined."

He frowned. "Okay. But isn't it risky, to do any repair in isolation? He's not exactly the reliable sort and he's been so…"

"There is always an element of risk." Coldly stated the computer.

"And he's been gone what… two days?"

"Correct."

A seed of worry sprouted, and then grew. Maybe there was nothing to be concerned about. Zim was probably watching this whole debacle from a safe distance, cackling and laughing before apprehending him.

"Show me where he went. Someone needs to check on him."

The computer seemed to quietly observe him. Then finally, it said, "Very well. Follow the arrows down to D3, but do not deviate Dib Membrane, or you will be apprehended and tossed out."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

He followed the pink arrows that flashed along the floor like something of a crumb trail for idiots. They led him into the conduit and finally to a sub-section below. The walls were covered in stained vents and dirty floor panels, with chilly rooms that were mostly empty and disused. He came upon a stairway, and below that stairway was nothing but water.

"D-Down… down there?" He asked.

"Correct."

"But it's flooded!"

"That is also correct."

He stared at the roiling water, dismayed and confused. "But he can't be down there! How far does it go?"

"One mile. There is a stairwell leading to an exit above exactly forty metres ahead."

"So? Locate him!"

"Failure to comply. I cannot determine his bio-signature."

He stared at the brackish water, watching it lap and roll across the top steps leading down. He did not especially like closed spaces, and neither did he especially like being submerged for any longer than necessary, and his phobias were relatively minor. Zim feared water as much as he feared capture, and death. During a skool trip, they had been taken to a swimming pool where all the kids were expected to take part, and well, swim. Zim had stayed in the shallows where he could stand relatively safely in the water, when Dib had come along and dunked him for the hell of it. Zim had nearly drowned. He remembered the instructor shoving him aside, and dragging the Irken's limp body out of the water to give him CPR.

He pulled off his coat, his mind already made up. He hoped to gods that he was not down there, that this was all some elaborate joke to trap or trick him.

"Well?" He snapped at the computer. "Aren't you going to help?"

The computer didn't seem to know what he meant by that. "Please specify what aid you require."

"Jesus! Ever heard of scuba gear? Or a breathing apparatus? A line to reel me back here wouldn't be too bad either!"

The computer adhered to his demands, and parcelled out a tank of breathable air complete with nozzle, a flashlight, and a long cord that would reel him back in. Dib took off his boots and sunk his feet into the freezing water. It was cold, the chill of it numbing his skin immediately. He wrapped the line around his waist and tied it in a knot to keep it secure.

This is so dumb. He thought sparingly, taking a quick, regretful look at the water he was about to enter. I'm either about to make a fool of myself, or I'm about to rescue the world's dumbest invader. I don't even know which one I prefer.

He slipped in, feet blindly settling on the cold hard bottom. He hefted the breathing tank onto his back, and wondered if he even had space enough to fit through whatever tunnel or corridor awaited him.

"It's a long tunnel with no other deviations." Retorted the computer with little to no understanding to the fears going through him. "Straight ahead is the…"

"Staircase. I know." Here goes. If you are down there, you jerk, I am going to kill you. He placed the breathing nozzle over his face, took a breath and went in. The water closed over his head as he looked straight through the plastic visor. It was so murky and so dark that he could barely see a thing, not even the hand in front of his face. He flicked on the flashlight to see millions of dark motes floating through the water. Along each side, on the closely pressing walls were a myriad of tiny pipelines, dials and gizmos. But no light shone back.

There's no way he's down here. He can't be.

He hoped to God he wasn't. He began to think of terrible things, of finding his dead, cold body floating lifelessly nearby, that all he had to do was reach out….

He kicked hard, using the pipes as leverage to pull him forwards with little effort. He was suddenly afraid. He didn't want to keep going. Didn't want to see. But as he reached the length of ten metres, he saw the debris littering the floor, and a little further, where more pipes weaved their way along, he saw him, floating in the void.

He kicked harder, hand closing over his tiny, limp glove. Zim gently spun, his eyes were closed, with his antennae trailing and floating like reeds. His face was pale, lips drawn and blue. There was no sign of a helmet, no sign of any kind of eternal aid he could have used.

He wrenched the nozzle off his face and planted it over Zim's open mouth.

Breathe! Breathe you dumb idiot!

Fuck fuck!

He's dead! It's too…

When he clasped an arm around his back, squeezing him closer, he noticed that the PAK was still warm, that some pink still shone from its interior.

No, no he's gonna be fine! I just need to get him out of here!

He started flailing back to the surface, refusing to take the nozzle off Zim even when he wasn't taking a breath. He gripped his thin, brittle wrist and hauled him back, his other hand tugging on the line. Unable to hold it, the flashlight bounced away into the dark.

"Are you looking at the stars, Zim?" He joked, looking into vague, dark opals for eyes. Zim stood on the very edge of the hill overlooking the city. But he was looking up. Where the city lights couldn't reach.

"What's it to you?" He snapped at last, pools of crimson landing down on him with weight.

-x-

"Come on, come on! There must be something you can do! Please! Just…. Just get him breathing!"

Dib checked to make sure the thermal aluminium blanket was covering every claw and toe. But as time passed, with no improvement, with the computer jabbing the limp creature with another adrenaline injection, he knew there was no hope. The powerlessness of Zim's computer became painfully apparent. He had once believed it was perfectly capable of handling most situations, but as it turned out, it didn't know what to do in a medical emergency.

Zim was cold, blue, and not breathing. The defibrillators the computer utilized had brought back a heartbeat of sorts, and the PAK dimly showed some sort of life, but whatever pulse remained reminded Dib of a computer that had all its lights on, but was simply not functioning.

He stood and stared, having run out of options and hope.

I… I should have acted… should have noticed sooner…

The computer was running out of options too, having defaulted to protocol and procedure. Its mechanical hands rotated and spun, not knowing what to employ, or what to do next.

Dib grabbed a respirator cord, even though he didn't know what he was doing, and coaxed it down Zim's swollen windpipe.

"I do not detect any brainwaves." The computer's voice was sudden, and ominous.

"Shut up!" He snapped a hand over his eyes, fighting to stay in control. "He just needs time! Right? His PAK will wake him up! It'll… it'll do something, we just gotta wait! This is what he does right? He just resets! He's gonna be fine!"

The computer's mechanical and useless hands hung, suspended above his lifeless master.

"It will fix him!" Dib looked to the computer's rotating hands, to the tubes and wires before he lastly looked to Zim's white, bluish face.

Time passed. But nothing happened.

Eventually, Dib collapsed in the little chair beside the bed, clenching a cold and limp hand. His own uselessness washed over him, and with it was anger. "How stupid are you? What were you thinking, you dumb, foolish alien! I'm taking your PAK if you die! And I'm going to take your base, and turn Gir into a flower pot or something! Are you listening, Zim? I hate you!"

He listed into silence, and stared numbly at the dials on the opposite wall. He still couldn't fathom why Zim had done it. He hadn't taken Gir with him. Hadn't warned anyone. He had simply gone down there. Alone.

He remembered what his father told him. That the sky was especially bright, not that he had looked. He supposed it didn't matter, one way or another, but he had to say it. Whatever it meant, to him.

"The stars are bright outside, Zim. You should see them. I know how much they remind you of home."

He released his hand and stood up, still staring at the wall when looking down at Zim was too painful.

He didn't know when he started to move, or what thought process was happening at the time. But he wrapped the old goofball in his arms, knowing that was the end of it, when Zim took a breath.