Debacle (R)

Summary:

All his life Dib has wanted to capture Zim and gain the victory and fame he always wanted. When his wish comes true however, not everything falls so comfortably into place.

Disclaimer:

I do not own the IZ characters. However this story and this idea is mine.

Warnings:

Dark themes, psychological issues and angst throughout.

Dib07: Hello, and I promise I won't leave the next update so long next time! This update is for Meadowfox too! I have been real busy working on the next Saving Zim book, and uh yes, it's been a bit of a headache, my writing can and does disappoint me every step of the way. But here is another long awaited update for you all!

Chapter 14: The Cost

As the connectors began to tear from the ports, Zim helplessly fell to shrieking. Then there was a sharp crack and the PAK snapped free. Antennae dangling down, he numbly watched as sweat speckled the floor below him. He tried to escape to someplace else as the disconnection shivered through his system, and focused on the monstrous shadow of the cradle, with the tall silhouettes of the scientists mulling around him. But they barely gave the sobbing, shivering creature much attention as they focused on what Carlson was holding as if it was the Holy Grail.

Williams hit the stopwatch to begin the ten minute countdown.

He held it, shiny and intact. Two trailing tubes, looking like flaccid, grey intestines, hung from below. The device was surprisingly simple in shape, fitting perfectly against the creature's spine. Its underside was flat and light in colour, with tiny perforated holes spreading out in conical circles from its centre.

The subject's bare back exposed two ugly metal-rimmed port holes. Its skin looked scarred, perforated, and pale; like skin that hadn't been exposed to any sunlight.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow." Carlson, who did not seem to care much for protocol, safety measures, contaminants or possibly radiation, held the shiny PAK like a boy who had taken the biggest present from under the Christmas tree. He lifted it up and turned it over so that he could discern its warm flat underside where crisscrossing ruts and circuits pulsed. The two limp tubes from its underside had been as rigid and as strong as metal rods before they had snapped free. "Hmmm. Weighs quite a bit..." Was his scientific estimation.

Zim was faraway and drifting as he felt his body die all around him. Coldness began to slide over his internals as the displacement spread, his attention drifting as he gasped in air that drew thorns across his lungs. His memories and language suppurated, with the static rolling in, corruption decimating data as wild fire ate through straw. Something deep within began to prodigiously tick.

Williams stood, fastened by the metal platform where he could access Zim and the monitoring machines. When he looked at A01's exposed back, he half imagined the ports to bleed, or exhibit some kind of electricity, but he was more surprised when nothing of the sort happened. He was certain that if he put a finger inside one of the ports, he would either get an electric shock from whatever conduit was lodged in its spine, or he would come away with spinal fluid. He was not tempted to find out which it was, when doing so might permanently paralyze the alien.

"One minute has already elapsed! I suggest you..." He began..

The room rang with Carlson's dark, abrasive laughter. "Dib's files clearly state that I have all of ten minutes! That gives me plenty of time to do what I want with it!" He hefted it under one arm as if he meant to walk away with it. "Cut into the subject now, doctor, and see if it can heal without it."

"I really don't think..."

"Now, Williams!"

The doctor produced a scalpel, and drew a shallow line across Zim's right knuckle. Blood drew to the surface, and as they watched, knowing that within so many seconds, healing would commence, but nothing happened.

Carlson placed the PAK, flat-side down on the nearby metal table. The oval ports wavered and pulsed, though they were not as steady as they were moments before. "This is mankind's gift!" He ran a finger over the burnt seams that he had made many times over its tough mantle. "Edward, stop gawping and hand me that screwdriver!"

"Sir?" Edward came over, carrying the heavy toolkit.

"I want to see if I can pry its lid off to get at the interior. Get the ultrasonic and magnetic particle thing over here so that we might finally scan something! The underside is its weak point! See here?" He pointed at the two neat and smooth oval holes that birthed the umbilici. But he did not pause long to admire the PAK's curving mantle, or the cronisis that gave it its polished shine and structure. He did however notice the heat it was exhibiting, and touching it was like touching a flaming hot radiator. But as he looked, tracing the tiny grooves of its egg-shaped shell, there seemed to be no obvious way in. It was hard to believe that anything could emerge from the smooth shell, let alone the extending long legs that A01 had previously demonstrated.

He started tapping on the side of it with the blunt tip of the screwdriver, hoping that it would 'spring' open for him. Growing impatient, he traded the screwdriver for a hammer. That was when the whole thing jumped sky-high, causing Edward to scream.

Carlson, too stunned to react, stood there, screwdriver in hand, when the PAK landed on tubular spine-tethers like some abnormal insect trying to walk.

"It's… it's alive!" Edward shouted, running, to the far side of the room where he could safely duck behind a table. Torrent dived behind the monitors, where Williams stood, dumbfounded beside the wheezing alien.

"Impressive," Carlson was looking more greedily at the device despite the shock of its transformation, "it's more complex than I imagined. No wonder the professor tried to stop me. He wanted it for himself!"

The PAK vibrated, its shell oscillating, as if things tucked up inside wanted to get out. Then it turned, as if it had hidden eyes or some kind of sensor, and it scuttled like an ungainly aberration towards the Irken. It was surprisingly quick. Carlson dived after it, swinging with the hammer. He knocked it sideways, and it spun on its circumference like an overturned beetle.

"Holy Abraham this thing's tough! It's a defence of some kind! Williams, get A01 to stop it!"

The PAK started heading for Williams. He dived out of the way, knocking a monitoring machine sideways. The PAK blindly flew upwards, seemingly aiming for the Irken, only to hit an apparatus. It spun round, its millipede tendrils twitching from its chrome sides. As it targeted Edward, scuttling fast and purposefully, the doctor hurried back to the metal platform and allowed Zim to sit up.

"Stop controlling the PAK!" He urged the vacant, staring alien. "We need to access it! Tell us how, A01!" But Zim didn't look so good, and his inability to respond worried him. The creature's eyelids kept falling over dark and dilating crimson. The antennae failed to lift or move much at all. Williams looked over to Carlson. "He's weakening, faster than I estimated! We don't have time!"

Carlson grabbed the cattle prod. As if he was facing a prowling beast, he began to circle around the PAK. The PAK, without being affixed to the creature, now seemed more alien and more perverse as it drunkenly scuttled and crawled on wire-like appendages that had 'grown' from its flat underside. The port lights shone a murderous crimson as if it was in attack mode.

"Torrent! One of you! Approach it from the side! We've got to corner this thing!" Carlson commanded without taking his eyes off it.

"You're on your own, sarge!" Torrent grunted back.

"Three minutes have elapsed, sergeant!" Williams warned from five feet away.

When Carlson made a blind jab, stumbling from the pain in his leg, the PAK rose up, and incredibly, all four spindly metal legs burst out of it, turning it into a demonic, mechanical quadruped. It leered over the sergeant, and then, like it wanted to hug him, it sprung and latched itself onto his chest. The sergeant cried out, its weight knocking him backwards. "Get it off! Get this thing off me you buffoons!"

Edward and Torrent came running over to help, while Williams remained rooted by Zim's side. The alien was in no way controlling this display, whether through telekinesis or some other power, when Williams was witnessing rapid deterioration that did not correlate with the ten minute mark. A01 was eerily apathetic, fighting for air with increasing effort. Sweat made its greying skin shine, giving the impression that it was coated in plastic. As he waited, counting the seconds on the stopwatch, A01 suddenly began to rasp and choke, its arm jerking desperately against the cusp as its eyes sightlessly stared ahead.

"Edward! Hurry up!" Carlson roared.

Edward grabbed a pair of pliers, while the immensity of this mechanical spider stuck fast to the sergeant. Torrent came up from behind the PAK, grabbed its shell with his fingers and wrenched it off. He was about to throw it as far away as possible when the PAK clawed at him. He dropped it, screaming. The PAK hit the floor and drunkenly scuttled at them, but it seemed confused by the sudden multitude of targets.

Carlson watched, amazed that it seemed to think and act of its own accord like it was an animal all of its own. This proved that it had its own internal A.I, that it was able to react to a given situation.

"Astonishing…" He murmured.

The crimson PAK went to aim for A01 again, as if that had been its intention all along. Carlson assumed it was trying to reconnect with him, for whatever purpose. And he was ready. With one swipe of the cattle prod, he knocked it aside again, and it abruptly fell with a clatter on its flat underside, spluttering with energy. All four limbs snapped back inside, its three red port lights fizzling out. Like a legless ladybird, it innocently sat there, as inert as before.

"Sergeant, are you okay?"

"Do I look okay to you?" He staggered upright, hand on his chest where the tubes had tried to burrow their way in. While he was getting his breath back, he angrily kicked the PAK two feet across the floor. It didn't react. He snarled, and stood over it, readying to take another swing at it if it so much as blinked. "Edward, bring me the laser cutter!" He stopped to wipe sweat from his brow. "If that's all this creature can throw at us, then I am sorely disappointed!"

"Are you hurt?" Edward asked.

Carlson looked like he was chewing cud. "Stop wasting time and help me open it!"

With Edward snatching it off the floor like it was on fire, he deposited it on a table. Williams shook his head. "Fools." He whispered.

Using the laser like an electronic pen, Carlson traced it over the nigh-invisible rims and curves and seams. He impatiently worked at one section, trying to cut away a piece of metal as if he was extracting the skin of an orange. The material was tough, as A01 had mentioned, and he may as well have been trying to cut his way through a titanium reinforced door.

With the stink of burnt metal and plastic suffusing the air, he finally jogged the segment loose. He lifted it with the pliers to reveal a complexity of compact networks covering the inside. But it was what the segment revealed that stupefied him. "Edward, get over here! What am I looking at?"

Edward was less inclined to get too close as he peered at the PAK with a medical torch, the light piercing the tightly packed wires and pulsing nodules in the exposed section. It was like looking into the cybernetic brain or heart of an android. Neurons fired, even when the main ports weren't lit. Streams of gossamer (the glow) fairy lights purred over and around gem-glittery nodes, with tiny running tapestries running here and there, all of which seemed to come from deeper within. Bioluminescence, or a mechanical version of it, lifted the colour in their eyes as the web of neurons flashed to the same silent and continuous rhythm they had seen before.

Tucked inside, within its own allocated holster, was one of A01's synthetic legs. It must have folded hundreds of times over, the incredible structure thinning to paper to fit so perfectly inside.

Using the screwdriver, he pressed the tip inside, and the whole PAK sparked in reply, causing both men to jump back.

"That's enough!" Williams' voice was as commanding as it was urgent. "A01's going into shock! Put it back in!"

"Just give me a second!"

"We don't have another second! The damage you're doing could be irreversible! Dib stated that it needs to re-attach itself to the host to survive!"

"I doubt it!" Carlson placed the burning metal of the extracted segment to one side. Edward was bringing a giant scanner array over when the doctor approached the table, men and machine alike, and picked up the PAK.

Carlson went to snatch it back. "No! I will not be impeded by ten measly minutes! Give that back! That's an order!"

Williams, having already determined which way round it went, aligned it close to the two metal rims gaping out of a mottled and scarred back. Slotting it in was easy – the PAK – or the exterior tubing, seemed to know exactly where to go, and they smoothly sunk in, with the triple ports lighting up again as if someone had turned on a new bulb.

Just as Carlson pushed the doctor to one side to reclaim the PAK, A01 went into violent spasms as if he had been hit with a hundred volts. A01 shortly slumped in its restraints, head lolling forwards. The port lights blinked red for a few moments as the alien and machine connected.

"Wake up, you damn thing! What's wrong with you?" Carlson turned to Williams. "You disobeyed me! Just like your 'friend!' You are…!"

"Decommission me, and he will die! What if the PAK dies with him? No one else has documented him like I have, and no one else is qualified! When you rush research..." Williams spoke gravely, "...and don't understand your subject…!"

"I told you we should have prioritized the PAK at the beginning! But you clowns wanted to jot down your little notes, take its temperature and play with it!"

"A01 needs medical assistance. His vitals are dropping. If you want to lose the PAK, and all that it offers, then be my guest! And remove it!"

Carlson stood back, grimacing.

Torrent was uncoiling and prepping the ventilator. When they plugged the breathing mask over Zim's face, they could hear him squeak and rasp.

"If it rejuvenates, why isn't it rejuvenating?" Torrent asked.

Williams turned to the ECG screen, recognising the pattern. A01 hung in the cradle, sickly gasping.

Edward came over holding the outer segment of PAK shell. Carlson swatted it out of his hand, only to then regard it with something close to awe.

"Edward," Williams grabbed the young man's attention before he got totally lost in what the sergeant was doing, "I need you to cover the missing section of PAK. I don't want dust and moisture getting in, do you understand? And Torrent, cover A01's hands and feet with thermal socks, or gloves! His temperature is dropping fast!"

Edward secured a length of gauze and did his best to cover the three inches of missing shell. Carlson was wagging the curved bit of shell in his bandaged hand. "We can finally start making progress at last once I test its composition and metals. See this?" He turned it over to show internals laced with tiny micro neurons, like miniature circuits in a miniature motherboard. "This shit's incredible! So much information and tech, all crammed into infinitesimally tiny spaces!" He turned it over again, the light caching something almost ultraviolet across its inner lining that glowed.

When he went to walk away, he gave the creature a measured look, eyebrows arched, as if Zim was just a curious stain on the wall. Then he stalked out the room.

-x-

Dib came to stand before Geneva, hands in his pockets, eyes dark, and watchful. Geneva had suddenly become more sarcophagus than building. Going back in was harder than he realized, and it put rocks on his shoulders as if the old building could redefine gravity, and exert its weight on him.

He would have to lay eyes on the man who had murdered his father, and come into contact with the very men who had happily gone along with his orders.

All day he had been frozen with the knowledge. Zim carries it… the cancer… does he know?

But do I even have it? Was my father just obsessed, desperate for exoneration?

He walked forwards, into the building's shadow. The coldness that inhabited Geneva seemed more pronounced, more definable. Passing so much as one scientist had him bunch up, tensing for a confrontation. Even if he was absolved of blame from his father's actions, they'd still be suspicious, noticing him for all the wrong reasons.

He had the sudden, irrational desire to set his robot dog on Carlson.

Using his father's keycard (that surprisingly still worked), he headed through reception, the burning anger keeping him perfectly invulnerable to anyone else around him. Zim used to act and move as if he was wearing an impenetrable coat of armour, helping him appear tougher to shield his fragility even when, at times, his foundations were being chipped away. It was not easy trying to emulate him, but after squaring up his shoulders and chin, he found that it worked pretty well.

He noted all the cameras as he passed. They were perched along the main walls to watch the comings and goings of all who went this way. Anger closed on his heart like jaws.

Carlson might be watching me right now. I've got to be careful.

He walked on, arms as tight as metal bars at his sides. He took no notice of the scientists watching him, and he walked into the elevator. The fact that no one was approaching him, and offering condolences angered him, but he also knew what kind of a person he was yesterday, and that he would have clawed through his father to finish what he had started.

He left the elevator and marched down the corridor, heart thundering in his chest. As he drew closer, it felt like he was slowly falling from a long way down.

He mounted the steps to the observatory where once his father and a handful of scientists stood watching the arena of torture below. In the observatory was Williams. He stood quiet and alone, looking out through the window. When Dib marched in, the doctor turned around, eyes edged with pain. "Dib, are you well? Your father... I'm so sorry…"

"Sure you are." He numbly articulated.

"I would have attended the funeral… but…" Williams seemed conflicted on what to say, his expression pained and grey. "…how have you been?"

He ignored him and approached the glass. Something that resembled Zim lay perfectly still in his metal cradle. He had been suspended in an upright position, but there was nothing stopping his head from rolling forwards, his chin and antennae sloping down. A connected tube jutted from his mouth. Remnants of a gown grubby with stains hung from a withered body, tubes and wires as thin as veins drooping or looping around him.

The pads and wads of gauze on his shoulder and chest were unmistakable, and the perverse absence of his left leg was louder than a scream. The realities coldly intertwined, as if he was back in the woodland, staring at his leg disappearing into metal teeth.

"What... what is this? What have you done to him?"

Williams answered in a cool and desultory manner as if he was reading from one of his anatomical diagrams. "A01 refuses to eat, so we had to intervene. We are extracting what we can in the meantime…"

"Extracting? What… what more have you done to him?"

"Carlson took a piece of shell from A01's PAK. The results have been... informative." Williams spoke as if he was still reading from a goddamn book. "The metal can withstand temperatures of over a thousand degrees, and minus that, too. It's completely shatter proof, and withstands external pressures that would otherwise crush steel. It's not altogether bullet resistant, but it does stand up to a lot of punishment. Carlson's already notified the Pentagon of the results. They may very well reinvent the tank, though we're still deciding on the materials for this cronisis substance. We have nothing on Earth that can emulate it… our only theory is that the planet's core may have similar materials that have hardened enough over time, or it's a delicate combination of other such materials…"

He dared to think of what Carlson had learnt already, and what he was already in the process of reverse engineering. If Zim's basic shell could produce nearly invincible tanks and vehicles, what could the rest of the PAK's technology achieve? He tried not to imagine such a place, with nigh-impenetrable tanks and bombers, and could only see a world burning.

"You… you only told me about his leg! What about the gauze all over his body! I told you to tell me before you did anything else!" He was screaming it, but he didn't care. He had lost too much time, with Zim losing even more in the process.

Williams peered at him with that same, unvarying expression. "This is the process of things. This is what you expected, surely?" He spoke gently as if he was talking to a dim and ignorant child. "In order to understand something, we have to take it apart." Then his tone darkened. "A01 belongs to a dangerous species, and we need to know what we're up against. A01's leg, for instance, has given us invaluable information about his muscular and arterial structure, including bone density and volume."

You sound just like the sergeant.

His eyes dropped down to the open laptop on the table that Williams had been in the midst of typing:

"The composition of muscle and tendon is elasticated, increasing the flexibility of movement without losing potency. The tendons in the claws and ankle are remarkable as well. What I was able to extract from the marrow, muscle, and bone is incredible. The tibia is filled with hexagonal pockets that lighten the bone, but it also reinforces it, making it incredibly strong. We see something similar in the avian species of our world – birds.

"But, as I was cutting back the flesh to reveal the layer of connective tissue, there were no signs of healing, or any kind of activity associated with cellular repair. It has become dead tissue, which means that its healing must come from the PAK or an internal organ. The fasciculus tissue however showed signs of advanced atrophy and fatigue, all of which are saturated in lactic acid."

Next to the document was an anatomical picture of Zim's severed leg. It hardly looked like anything, more like a twig with a slight bend in the middle.

He looked up from the notes, trying to see the state of the PAK from this angle. Zim was resting with his back against the platform, only enabling him to see the top rim of mantle, but he could see something wrapped around it.

The Irken's closed eyes were ringed in black grooves and wrinkles. His hips, once sleek and indiscernible, had become pelvic lumps beneath the thin and soiled fabric of his gown. Something was stuck to his throat, looking like a white mechanical beetle that might be a valve or a regulator device of some kind.

"Why... why isn't he moving?"

"Conserving energy, most likely. You said that A01 doesn't need sleep, is that correct?" He blinked at him, probing for answers with less of the subtlety.

He turned to stare at him. When Williams merely stood there, he grabbed the lapel of his coat, forcing him to look into his fiery eyes of amber. "What have you done?"

"What science demands!"

"And was it magical? Did it give you all of your fucking miracles at once!?"

Williams' brows lifted; finally revealing something real beneath the clinical mask. "The world is broken, Dib. We have progressed since the dark ages, but only because we strive to discover new things to surpass what limits us! We are the pioneers of our own future, and we must protect what we have!"

Dib's eyes sharpened, mouth a twisting jagged line. "Is that all you have to say?"

Williams didn't flinch. "Your father worked hard to ensure stability, where people could live out their lives, and not be torn apart by illness. It took everything he had to try and achieve that." He waved a hand in Zim's direction, "And he is part of it."

Dib loosened fingers that had been winching themselves into the material of the doctor's coat and let go. Icy white replaced the pink in his cheeks.

They heard weak choking sounds through the glass. Dib froze, his hatred at Williams turning to ash.

"It's the feeding tube..." Williams said, "It can only stay in his spooch every hour or so. The body starts to reject it after awhile."

"What are you feeding him with?"

"A glucose formula that's more substantial than what the drip can give. We fear that if we try A01 on anything else, he will adversely react to it."

Dib's fingers curled into fists. He turned to go into the observatory, but the door wouldn't open.

"Open it, now." He growled.

"I can't let you in..!" He said.

"I am Professor Membrane's son." He steely reminded, the reply a double-barrelled one. He held the man's gaze, amber eyes unwavering.

Williams slowly nodded, recognizing his challenge. "Then let me assist you."

He went through the door, breathing in the cloying smells of antiseptic and bleach that made him think of mortuaries. Slowly the camera turned from surveying its prisoner to focus on him as he entered. He passed it a narrowed look and continued forwards.

Zim gave off a fetid smell of ammonia, blood and faeces, with antiseptics and chlorine trying to cover it up. His uniform, and his monolith of technology had helped hide his fragility and size. Wreathed in tubing, with a plethora of restraints, both of these virtues had never been more significant.

His antennae, once sleek long lines that arched and flickered, lay flat and withered against his shoulders, the left having been trimmed at the top. His pointed chin had dropped to rest on a bony collarbone, his breaths steady, unvarying, his slender and protruding ribs expanding and contracting. The harsh lines he carried under his eyes had melted into smooth, softer curves, and a furrow that was usually invisible on his brow had formed into a shallow crease down his forehead.

He was suddenly hesitant to come any closer, and drew to a stop less than six feet away. Williams gently slipped his fingers around the exterior of the feeding tube and slowly drew it out. Zim reflexively gagged, throat convulsing, body twisting to get away from the immediate discomfort.

There was blood dappled here and there over his sodden gown. His skin was mottled, macerated, his lime green hue more bluish and grey.

Dib's focus started to unhinge, his mind not altogether able to make sense of what he was seeing.

This is… this is barbaric…

"You didn't tell me… you were g-going to…"

Williams response was cold, abstract, "That is precisely why we had to act. Ao1's getting weaker, and we need as much data as possible."

"What did you take out of him?" His eyes were riveted to Zim's sunken, waxy face, fearing as much as hoping those eyes might open, of the accusation he'd see.

"We took biopsies of the heart, lungs, spooch, and another organ we are currently calling 'the bagpipe,' seeing as how it looks like a bagpipe." He saw Dib tighten up. "The samples are microscopic and the procedure wasn't painful. A01 barely noticed, he was dozing most of the time."

"What about the other hundreds of samples you have?" He could not help but picture a cold and analysing Williams holding up that dribbling sheaf of skin from Zim's arm.

"Sadly, inconclusive. They paint a picture of the alien's general make-up and biological composition, but internal organs reveal a lot more. It is the best way of determining disease, and any cybernetic implants or neurons that connect him to the PAK."

"Well? Did you get your answers?"

"The computers are still analyzing the results."

As he stared, Dib's haphazard and directionless gaze landed on the PAK. Its exterior mantle, once a shiny, smooth oval wonder, was now dubiously held together with industrial nails, medical tape and what appeared to be glue from the whitish residue splattered here and there.

Zim suddenly opened his eyes, with dabs of red peering insensibly at him. Dib froze, staring back, the cowardice rolling miserably through him. He expected the hate, the accusations, but Zim didn't make a sound. Tears rolled down his scuffed, bony cheekbones.

"We had to force it open, boy." The doors flung open and the sergeant strode in with a smile that was as effaceable as a sand castle on a beach. His boot heels and walking cane sharply clacked on the hard flooring, one arm reposing at his back. A coldness walked in with him. "A01 was being rather difficult." He lifted his arm from behind his back to reveal a hand swathed in gauze. "The mouse knows how to bite."

He flung an arm in Zim's general direction. "Stop this, Carlson! We're human beings, not monsters!" Sparks were in his eyes, heart gearing up a notch as adrenaline poured into his veins.

"You sound an awful lot like your poor old father." Carlson kept up his nonchalant air, but the revolver in his hip holster with the black grip was obvious. "I know it's not easy facing facts, son. We have to take what we can, when we can, to survive."

"I thought Zim was bad, but you're ten times worse!"

Carlson seemed to take some amusement from that, but his chuckle was coarse and without mirth. "Survival isn't a game, son. And I don't know what your 'game' is, but you are quickly losing my patience. You're grieving, so I'll forgive you. But emotion can get you killed."

"It proves that I'm human!"

"And what is a human being but an animal? And what is an animal without power?" He smiled, teeth glinting coldly. "I have a proposition for you, son. You have history with A01, and you might be able to extract information from the bug more easily."

"He hates me, don't you get it?"

"Hate can drive a man. Why should a monster from the chasms of space be any different?"

"You're the monster!"

"I can live with that. Can you?" He took a step forward. Dib took a step back. "You've got to face up to the choices you've made. You've gone too far now. Taking action and taking control is how you defeat your enemies."

"You…" He shook, teeth clenching. "You killed him!"

"Ooh?" Again that chilling, predatory smile. "I had to stop him. He meant to release A01, undermining you and all your hard work. I was doing it to protect you, boy."

Dib stood, staring at a man he had started to trust in: to believe for a moment that he had an ally.

"It pained me to do what I had to do." Carlson continued. "But he left me no choice. A01 was controlling him. He got into his head, and ordered him to do his bidding." As if he had already rehearsed it, he took out Dib's ZIM files from his pocket and started reading a passage that he had marked out:

"Is there anything out there that can stop him? Day by day I see him go by, wondering what he'll do to us next. Just the other week he set a hamster loose on the street, and not just any ordinary hamster. I don't know what he did to get it to grow to such a monstrous size, or how many people it killed. It barely made the news.'"

He turned a page, reading from a different paragraph.

"Why finance NASA Place when it's so useless? They sit there all day watching stupid readings on their out-dated monitors while the truth is right there! Zim will destroy everything in this world before anyone notices! Who gives a shit about Mars, anyway? Zim took it you assholes!"

"Stop it!" Dib growled.

Carlson turned the page. "Zim tried to sabotage my dad's energy saving machine today. I think the explosion would have decimated most of America, if not the whole world..." He turned another page. "I threw a muffin at Zim during recess in the cafeteria. I didn't think anymore of it, embarrassing him was far more entertaining as he struggled to determine who it was that had thrown it. Even as I write this, it's still a blur. All in the space of a day it seemed, Zim turned himself in, and I won! I took on tasks devoted to exposing ghosts and phantoms, and when I was being interviewed to celebrate my long and successful life, the interviewer asked if it was me who threw the muffin that day, and the room around me disappeared to reveal that my whole success had just been a simulation! The whole fucking thing! A hologram! Just for Zim to see if it was me who threw that muffin!"

"That's enough!" But Dib's defying shout didn't have the effect he wanted.

"This 'Zim' was sent to weaken us, destroy us, and your words prove it. There is no pain too great that it doesn't deserve."

"That... that was before...!"

"Before, what?" His challenge wasn't as gentle. He was beginning to show his teeth.

"Before you maimed him! Before I learnt the truth!"

"Truth, what truth?"

"He was only following orders! They were all he had! He was cast out! There is no army! The Irken Empire is a billion light years away, and they don't care about Earth! He's alone! Survival is a matter of perspective! He... he repairs the broken! He rescues animals from the side of the road, he… started to care… to change!"

"A little too cute and farfetched for even the dumbest to believe." Carlson growled.

"You're not listening!"

"Oh? I'm not, am I? How then are you so sure this 'Empire' isn't coming? That's he's cast out? He still attacked you, didn't he? He's been after you since the day he arrived."

Dib stammered, realizing that he could not mention his ship, of how he had come across the information. "I've… I've been thinking back on everything he's said…"

"You do realize that soldiers are trained in many areas of combat, and to have an understanding of technology and science. A01 purposely breaks something to see how it fits back together. More of these bug-eyed bastard fuckers will come to Earth. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but they'll be here, and I'll be ready. Rescuing animals… honestly…"

"You're... you're insane...!"

Carlson tiredly shook his head as if Dib was the child. "Now, if you're not going to help, I suggest you leave before you do something stupid like your father did."

"He's... he's my alien! I gave him to you! I want him back!"

"Is that your last card, boy?" The laughter was cruel and derisive. "Thinking that A01 belongs to you!" He turned to a shrewd-eyed Williams. "Have you ever heard such lunacy?"

"He's not yours!" Dib growled, standing his ground.

"I've read your medical history! I know you were put in the Crazy House for Boys!"

"It's not called that!"

"Then what shall I call it? The Mental Institute for the clinically insane? Williams, get him out of here!"

The doctor took him by the arm. "Wait! Let me go! You can't do this!" The cardiologist's grip was surprisingly strong, with cold fingers digging into his bicep. Zim watched him go, eyelids fluttering against muted, dark reds. "Zim! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry...! This isn't what I wanted!"

The heels of his boots squeaked along the floor as Williams promptly dragged him away. The door slammed home behind them, causing the metal to ring as the doctor let go.

"I… I am sorry…" Williams's voice was not without effort after having dragged a man half his age out the room. "As a friend of Membrane, I will do what I can to help, but my hands are tied." Dib only glared at him. "Torrent will show you out. Go home and rest. You really don't look yourself."

"I don't need Torrent to show me out. He gives me the creeps."

"He gave me the creeps too, when we first met." Williams admitted. "Wait here. I believe you left a few things." He left, but not for very long. Dib was so robbed of strength that he leaned bonelessly against the wall, and when the doctor returned, he had his Zim doll and a spare copy of some files.

Dib's hand grappled for the banister rail as he swayed. Williams recognised the exhaustion. "Stop cutting into him." He growled it. "Promise me. If you truly cared about my dad, you'll listen to me."

"I really don't think..."

"Promise me!" He snapped, swaying in his tracks

Williams sighed. "I will try. Go home. I'll ring you, and…"

"Just… keep him alive…" He clenched his eyes shut, remembering the dozens of envelops he had stuck to the trunks of trees. His wish, in all its dark irony, had come true. "Take him out of that… cradle."

Williams sighed again.

-x-

He set his alarm clock, knowing he needed the sleep, when he was too tangled in rage to even think about sleep. But somehow, two hours before the alarm went off, he tumbled into empty dreams. For a time he was able to forget the pain. He'd see his father measuring some liquids into a beaker and he'd be talking and smiling. But the sadness had a way of following him, even when he couldn't understand why, and a part of him ran from the knowing before it could reach him in time. He was back in the forest, by the well. Zim was waiting for him there.

"Silly human." He said, his smile as carefree as ever. "You run round in circles all day, and yet you still somehow end up where you started. Some smart meat sack you are."

"I know." He said. "I've got to break out of it. But I don't know how."

"Still just a lousy human." He smiled and turned away, heading out of the sunlight and into the dappled shade beyond. "See you, Dib. Just don't blow it all up at once. I sure would like my Voot back."