Chapter Text
Dib couldn’t wait to prove Zim wrong. It was one of his favorite pastimes, after all. In fact, just yesterday, Dib had managed to hack a supposedly impenetrable data stream transmitted through the edge of what was once Irken-dominated space. Zim accused him of cheating and then backpedaled about how “un-hackable” the data really was, but Dib’s ability to read Zim’s body language had improved greatly during their time traveling the stars together, and he could tell the alien was at least a little impressed.
Not as impressed as he’d be once they’d managed to free all the prisoners of this giant gladiatorial stadium, of course.
Dib leaned back in the pilot’s seat with a self-assured grin as the Voot’s airlock hissed open behind him. “Welcome back, space-bug,” he greeted, not bothering to watch Zim enter the cabin.
“Did you get what you needed? Can we get out of here?” Zim grumbled as he noisily removed his magnetic boots.
“It’s a lot of data. Still downloading,” Dib said, monitoring the numbers as they streamed across the cockpit’s main display. “Thanks for setting up the link out there. You shouldn’t have to go back out to disconnect it.”
“I still think this is a terrible idea. In case you wondered,” Zim said.
Dib rolled his eyes. He didn’t need to wonder about Zim’s opinion on the situation, considering Zim had complained about it continuously since Dib had proposed his plan.
“And yet here we are,” Dib said, and kicked his feet up on the edge of the control panel in a show of nonchalance.
Suddenly, Dib’s seat tilted back, dislodging his feet and nearly dumping him to the floor as he tried to catch himself. Zim snickered and appeared at his side, one PAK leg slowly returning into position. His moment of mirth at Dib’s expense was brief. Zim frowned and leaned closer to the screen.
“How long will this take? We can’t stay here much longer without drawing their attention.”
Dib crossed his arms. “Relax. The Voot is a gnat compared to this station. Plus we’re cloaked. We’re essentially invisible.”
“How much longer?” Zim repeated.
Dib decided not to push his luck. Patience had carried him a long way in his journey to friendship with Zim, especially in the past few weeks. Reining in his temper wasn’t always easy, but Dib found that when he gave Zim a little space, the alien repaid him in honesty. Or at least something close to it.
“I’m not sure… It’s a lot more info than I expected,” Dib said. He pushed his glasses back to the bridge of his nose as he tried to make sense of the data flow. “Huh… I thought I was pulling schematics, but this is… Well, I’m not sure what this is.”
Zim tapped his foot anxiously but didn’t comment.
Perhaps he was trying his hand at patience, too.
Dib typed a few commands into the panel, hoping to parse the information. “I want to let it run for a few more minutes. If I don’t have anything clear by then, we can go.”
Zim’s antennae perked. “You’re giving up on this ridiculous prison-break scheme?”
Patience… “I’m not giving up. If we can’t get the schematics, I’m sure we can come up with a different solution. We’re still in the planning stages.”
Zim began to pace, muttering chirpy, Irken obscenities under his breath, eyes locked on the screen.
“Zim, you agreed to do this with me,” Dib reminded him, still trying to be gentle with his approach.
“Yes, in a moment of weakness and obligation,” Zim said.
Dib’s heart fell a little. “You’re not obligated to do anything.”
“No no, this is what ‘partnership’ is,” Zim said, raising a finger in mock sincerity. “It’s all about trust. And I trust that the second we free those prisoners, they’ll murder us. Or, more specifically, they’ll murder you. But it’s OK, because I trust in my ability to resurrect your little broken worm body after they tear you to pieces.”
Dib couldn’t take much more of this. “They’re not going to kill us. That makes absolutely no sense.”
“They’re Irkens,” Zim sneered. “They’ll do whatever they have to do to survive, which may include cutting you in half if you try to stop them from returning to the Empire. Which you’ll probably do, because you have the self-preservation instinct of a Two-Tongued Spinkax.”
Dib blinked at him.
“Spinkaxes are born addicted to a type of plant which kills them immediately upon ingestion. It’s a trait that evolved within them to control their own population. They mature and breed very quickly, but also crave that plant so intensely that they only tend to live for hours, sometimes minutes, before succumbing to the urge to eat it,” Zim explained, remarkably calm.
“Oh. That’s grim.”
“Tell me about it,” Zim said, but then snapped back into rant-mode. “Anyway, even those worthless creatures would know better than to willingly interact with a platoon of Irkens. You of all people should recognize that, Dib-beast.”
“And you of all people should recognize that Irkens are capable of change,” Dib volleyed.
Zim fixed Dib with a glare so fierce that Dib swore he felt scalded. “You still don’t understand. Foolish dirt-monkey… I don’t know why I bother. I should just stand to the side and let you be eviscerated.”
Dib started up out of the pilot’s seat, giving into his anger. “What the hell is your problem, Zim? You can’t seriously-”
The port to Dib’s sleeping chamber whirred open and GIR burst into the cabin, arms raised in triumph. “I did it! I solved the puzzle! What’d I win?”
Zim’s demeanor instantly shifted to something oddly parental as he turned to face his minion. “GIR! Great work unlocking that door that took me several hours to secure! You won… eh… another round of playing with the door puzzle! Doesn’t that sound fun?”
“It sure doesn’t!” GIR said, still beaming.
“It doesn’t? Oh, well, that’s too bad, because in you go again,” Zim said. In a flash, Zim crossed the cabin, scooped GIR into the chamber, and resealed the door. He typed frantically into a panel outside of it, presumably locking the room down, before pausing, scratching his chin thoughtfully, and pulling a laser arm out of his PAK.
“Don’t,” Dib said flatly.
Zim flinched and zipped the laser back into his PAK. “Don’t what? Zim wouldn’t seal the door to your chamber with a laser to keep GIR inside. That would be shortsighted and foolish. You saw nothing. Anyway. Shall we resume our discussion about how stupid and ignorant you are?”
Dib sighed loudly and flopped back into the pilot’s seat. If he’d known this whole affair would be such a hassle, maybe he wouldn’t have hacked that data stream in the first place. But he did hack the stream, and he couldn’t ignore the call for captured Irken ex-invaders that had been sent out by something called “Smikka Smikka Smoodoo’s Screw You Battle Zoo.”
After the disappearance of the Massive years ago, an organization of rebels called the Resisty had apparently taken advantage of the loss of leadership within the Irken Empire. That moment of vulnerability had been enough to turn the tide of the resistance. The Empire collapsed in on itself, abandoning its furthest colonies, leaving Irken invaders stranded and without the resources to defend themselves as their conquered planets gained inspiration from the Resisty and turned on them.
This “Smikka” character had found a way to capitalize on the situation. His encoded transmission – meant for the world leaders of local planets, not random interlopers like Dib and Zim – described a giant stadium of a space station designed to pit captive Irkens against each other for the entertainment of the aliens they’d once tried to dominate.
Dib could see the appeal of such a place. Back when he and Zim had battled over the fate of Earth, shipping Zim off to a revenge-fueled gladiatorial space prison would have sounded fantastic. But lots of things had changed since then. Zim included.
“Just a couple more minutes and then I’ll shut the stream down,” Dib said, ignoring Zim’s invitation to continue their spat.
“I don’t know if we can keep GIR contained that long,” Zim said.
Dib nodded. GIR, for all of his eccentricities, did have his strengths. Stealth was not one of them. Which reminded Dib…
“Hey, while this wraps up, can we test my communicators?” he asked.
“I still don’t understand why our usual communicators aren’t sufficient,” Zim said. At least it wasn’t an outright “no.”
Dib swiveled his chair and popped open a small hatch to retrieve his invention. “If these work, they’ll be much more covert than your PAK phone or my TransDibber. It’ll be easier to keep in touch when we split up on missions. Here, let me see your antenna.”
Zim paused, a faint snarl tugging up the corner of his lip, but then obligingly approached. “Make it fast.”
Dib pulled a small box from the hatch, opened it, and peeled a thin, translucent bit of film from a slide inside of it. He’d used Zim’s circuitry printer to design it, and this was the first iteration of the invention that looked viable. The other versions had been so delicate that they’d torn before Dib could even toy with them. Dib chewed his lip as he hovered the strip over the base of Zim’s left antenna.
“Hold still,” he instructed.
Zim, to his credit, said nothing as Dib cupped the underside of his antenna for stability. The insectoid appendage twitched a little – a reflex, not Zim’s fault – but then stilled as Dib’s fingers curled around it. Dib rarely had the opportunity to touch Zim’s antennae and was briefly sidetracked by the stiff, fibrous texture of the organ. He shook himself away from the distraction as he carefully adhered the communicator film to its base.
Dib released the antenna and Zim shivered. His left antenna spasmed a little, flicking as if trying to dislodge an irritant, but then settled back into a neutral position.
“Does it feel OK?” Dib asked as he peeled his own piece of film.
“It feels… strange,” Zim said, tilting his head and squinting one eye. “But Zim supposes it isn’t terrible.”
Dib lined his own strip just in front of his left ear, trailing it down to the edge of his jaw. “Good. So, to turn them on, press at the bottom of the strip and slide your finger up it. Do the opposite to turn it off. Like this.”
Dib rubbed his communicator up from his jaw to his ear. Zim hesitantly did the same, drawing his claw from the base of his antenna up an inch or so to the top of his film. Dib was delighted to observe that the device was almost completely invisible on Zim’s antenna.
“Can you hear me?” Dib said quietly.
Zim’s antennae shot forward and he grimaced slightly. “Loud,” he said in a harsh whisper.
Dib heard Zim’s voice both in the cabin and directly in his ear, followed by a piercing wave of feedback. He rushed to turn the device off. Zim followed suit.
“Great, they work,” Zim growled as he massaged the base of his antenna. “Happy?”
“I still want to test them over a greater distance, but yeah, I’m pretty happy,” Dib said with a satisfied smile.
“Does that mean I have to keep it on?”
Dib shoved the box back into its hatch and began to disconnect the Voot from the stadium’s feed. “Yes. Just until we can get out of here and find a planet to experiment with them on. They’re fragile, so I’d rather not remove them until we have to.”
Zim grunted. The tension melted from the alien’s shoulders as Dib finished closing the data connection and began to reverse the ship. Maybe that meant it was safe to talk about the plan again.
“So… about the prisoners turning on us as soon as we free them…”
Zim groaned and turned his back on Dib, crossing his arms tightly as if that could ward off the conversation. Dib maneuvered the Voot away from the station, avoiding portholes, despite feeling secure in the knowledge that their ship was well-cloaked.
“They don’t even have an Empire to go back to. Why are you so convinced that that’s going to be a problem?” Dib continued.
“Because it doesn’t matter that the Irken Empire is dying. An Irken’s sole purpose is to serve the Empire, even if that means returning to Irk to be slaughtered by the Resisty. They have no choice in the matter.”
“Of course they have a choice. You had a choice,” Dib said.
Dib kept his eyes on the windshield as he navigated, but he sensed Zim stepping further away from the pilot’s seat.
“Like I already said, you don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Zim said. “Those Irkens aren’t going to be like me.”
“So what then? You’re not even going to give them a chance? You’d rather leave them to die in captivity?”
Something thumped against the wall behind Dib, and he wondered if Zim had punched it.
“Don’t you think they might deserve that?” Zim asked, his voice tight. “Why are you so determined to defend them? I’m sure you haven’t forgotten how many times I tried to crush your pathetic stink-planet. Do you even know how many worlds Irk has conquered?”
“OK, sure, but look where we are now!” Dib said, daring a glance backward at Zim, who seethed in the corner of the cabin, arms firmly crossed. “We’re traveling the universe together, solving mysteries, doing good! If you were able to change from my nemesis to my closest friend, then can’t the rest of your kind be reformed, too?”
Zim’s claws clenched near his head, like he was trying not to use them against the wall again, or maybe against himself. Dib wasn’t oblivious to the way Zim tended to yank on his own antennae in moments of duress. The human struggled to look away, torn between watching his screens and not wanting to give Zim the chance to hurt himself.
“No! No, they can’t, Dib!” Zim shouted. “The only reason I’m your friend is because I’m defective!”
Dib’s stomach flipped. “What?”
Zim scowled. “Don’t look so surprised. This isn’t new information.”
Dib quickly checked the ship’s trajectory before craning his neck to see Zim. “Uh, yeah, it kind of is new information. I mean, you told me about the corruption in your PAK and what your leaders were going to do to you, but I don’t understand how any of that has to do with us being friends?”
“A normal Irken should be incapable of forming such relationships, especially with species that we’ve been sent to subjugate. Under normal circumstances, we could not be friends, but Zim’s PAK is…” Zim’s hands jerked toward his antennae, but he managed to stop himself from grabbing them.
Dib grasped for something positive. “Alright, so your PAK is supposed to suppress feelings of friendship, is that it? So naturally, all Irkens should be able to form those relationships. It’s just a matter of the PAK interfering with your emotions.”
Zim growled and squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. “There is no ‘interfering.’ Irkens ARE their PAKs! There is no difference!”
“Of course there’s a difference!” Dib was nearly out of his seat again, only sparing cursory glances out the windshield between his sentences. “You have an organic brain, don’t you? That’s your real brain, right? The real you?”
“There is no ‘real,’ pig-smelly! They’re the same!” Zim slammed a claw against the hull of the ship with a resounding clang. “Why are we even discussing this? Why are you so fixated on what is and isn’t Zim?”
Dib released his hold on the yoke, spreading his arms wide to gesture to the entire ship. “Because I have to know that this is real!”
A flash of confusion crossed Zim’s face, replaced immediately by… shock? “DIB!”
Dib dove for the yoke a millisecond too late. The bright golden aura of a tractor beam caught the Voot, flinging its passengers off their feet thanks to the ship’s False-Physics Drive. As Dib pulled himself up by the arm of the pilot’s seat, a feminine, computerized voice boomed through the cabin.
“Irken craft: identify yourself.”
Dib looked to Zim, who leaned against the far wall, wincing and rubbing his head. Zim’s wide, red eyes met his, but neither human nor Irken could come up with any words.
“Irken craft: you will be disintegrated if you fail to respond in ten, nine, eight-”
Dib scrambled to the comms button of the control panel. “Shit, shit, shit…”
“…Seven, six, five…”
“What do we say?” Dib’s voice was too high. Blood pounded in his ears.
“Something! Anything!”
“…Four, three, two…”
Dib’s hand slammed down on the comms control. “This is Captain Dib Membrane requesting that you release my vessel at once!”
A few beats passed in silence. Dib straightened his spine, trying to look the part of the intrepid space explorer he was hoping to portray, though he wasn’t sure whether their captors could see inside the ship.
“Captain Dib Membrane,” the electronic voice repeated, stiffly. “State your species, planet of origin, and the purpose of your visit to Smikka Smikka Smoodoo’s Screw You Battle Zoo.”
“Uh…” Dib checked over his shoulder for Zim, who enthusiastically waved him on, sweat beading on his green skin. “I’m a human, uh, Ma’am. From Earth.”
Another pause.
“Unrecognized species. Unrecognized planet of origin. What is the purpose of your visit to Ssssibz?”
It took Dib a moment to comprehend that the word the computer just used was SSSSYBZ, the station’s acronym. “Oh! SSSSYBZ, right. Uh, just curious. But I’ll be on my way now, so if you could deactivate your tractor beam-”
“Captain Dib Membrane, [unknown] of planet [unknown], visiting for [just curious], please state the number of passengers on your vessel.”
“One!” Zim whisper-shouted from the back of ship.
Dib hushed him and returned to the comm. “One passenger. Only me.”
Yet another pause, even longer and more anxiety-producing than before. “The nature of your vessel and the unrecognized species and planet origin of your captain compel us to conduct a lifeform survey. Please standby.”
A deep thrum pulsed through the ship. Dib felt it in his ribs, like the thundering sound of the Hi Skool marching band back on Earth. He held his breath and blinked the stinging sweat from his eyes.
“Two organic lifeforms and one ambulatory artificial intelligence detected. One lifeform has been identified as Irken. Prepare for docking at the station.”
Dib’s heart leapt to his throat. “Wait! That won’t be necessary. I’ve decided not to contribute my, um, Irken captive to the Battle Zoo. Please release my ship.”
“Unable to comply. Please choose from the following options: A) Surrender your Irken captive or B) Prepare for immediate disintegration.”
Dib furrowed his brow. “Now hold on, that’s not fair.”
“Please make your selection or prepare to be disintegrated in ten, nine…”
Zim raced to the front of the ship and shoved Dib aside. “We surrender!”
“Zim!” Dib yanked the alien’s hand off the comm panel. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Please clarify selection,” the computer requested. “Are you surrendering your Irken captive?”
Dib grabbed Zim roughly by the shoulders. “I’m not handing you over to those psychopaths!”
“And I’m not letting us all be blasted into space-dust!” Zim said, shoving away Dib’s hands.
“Please clarify selection.”
Dib felt faint. This couldn’t be happening. Everything had been going so smoothly. How had the beam even found the cloaked Voot? Was there an error on the ship? Was it just bad luck?
“Disintegration in ten, nine, eight…”
“I trust you.”
Dib almost couldn’t hear Zim’s words. “What?”
“…Seven, six…”
Zim frowned. “Partners? Trust? Remember? You’re going to get me out. It’s going to be fine.”
“…Five, four…”
Dib’s hand felt numb as he placed it on the comms button once more. “Surrender. I’m surrendering the captive.”
The expanded Voot Cruiser lurched as the beam started to draw them back toward the station. Dib stared blankly through the windshield at the vast, gray, triangular station with the glass bubble in its center. The battlefield, no doubt. Dib held the edge of the control panel as another wave of dizziness hit.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Zim said matter-of-factly. “If they ask, you’re going to tell them that you’re an ambassador of your species and that you commandeered my ship on Earth. Just another fringe colony, a last ditch effort by the Irken Empire to expand their reach.”
Dib nodded quickly, trying to collect himself. “Right. And then I can explain that I don’t really want to surrender you to the zoo. I’m shopping around for options. Yeah, that should work…”
“That’s not going to work.”
The beam moved so quickly. Ahead of them, a large docking bay opened its doors to accept their ship.
“I have to try! They’re going to kill you, Zim!”
“Pfffft, I’d like to see them try,” Zim said with a casual flick of his wrist. “You underestimate Zim’s combat abilities. I’m not concerned about this so-called battle park. The Dib must focus on the data we collected so you can break me out. We have your communicators. It will be fine.”
As the ship settled into the bay, Dib studied Zim out of the corner of his eye. The Irken stood ramrod straight, hands clasped neatly behind his back, chin high, expression resolute. But the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the slight tremble of his antennae gave him away.
Dib had to say something. Anything. The airlock activated automatically. A team of unfamiliar aliens trotted across the bay toward the parked Voot.
“Take care of GIR,” Zim said, and the Voot’s rear access door opened.
A short, green-skinned alien with a bulbous head stepped aboard, flanked by two taller, orange creatures holding mean-looking energy weapons in their tentacles. At first, Dib thought the green alien was wearing a metal cap, but then he dipped his head in greeting, revealing the hat to be a screw-like appendage drilled directly into the top of the skull.
“Greetings, Captain!” the alien with the screw said to Dib with a warm smile. “I hear you stumped our AI. Not every day we come across a brand new species from uncharted space! What kind of alien did you say you were?”
“I’m a human,” Dib said, side-eying the tentacled aliens as they did a sweep of the cabin, checking the hatches and tapping on the doors. One paused to assess the locked door to Dib’s chamber. Shit, what was he going to do when they let GIR out?
“Human, how unique! I’ll have to update my database,” the green alien said. “Oh, pardon me, I’ve forgotten myself. My name is Smikka Smikka Smoodoo. And you called yourself Dib Membrane?”
Dib’s eyes snapped forward and widened in surprise. “You own this place?”
“That I do! But please don’t feel sheepish with me. I’m a friendly soul,” Smikka said, his glowing teal eyes twinkling. “I don’t often meet newcomers in the docking bay, but I don’t often encounter new species either. This must be your Irken?”
“Yes,” Dib said, a little too quickly.
Zim’s mouth was a flat, emotionless line. He hadn’t moved an inch since the door had opened.
“Well-trained, I see,” Smikka said, sounding pleased.
It hadn’t even occurred to Dib to restrain Zim in some way. “Oh. Um, yes, he is.”
The corner of Zim’s mouth quivered and Dib caught the briefest glimpse of his teeth.
“Though it appears he didn’t go down without a fight, if I’m not mistaken,” Smikka said, pointing at Dib’s cheek.
Dib lifted a hand to the scar beneath his cheekbone where Zim had slashed him on Sirus Minor several weeks before. Dib kept his mouth closed.
The second tentacled alien joined the first by the door to Dib’s room. They mumbled to each other, facial tendrils wriggling.
Smikka shrugged and continued. “Lots of folks don’t bother breaking their Irkens before they arrive. We get all kinds of feral ones. But they can be quite docile once you assert yourself as their Tallest.”
Dib’s fingernails bit into his palm as he tensed. He could practically feel the rage rolling off of Zim.
“I’ve got one of my own, in fact,” Smikka said, and snapped his fingers. “Beep? Come on in, sweetheart.”
Behind Smikka, an Irken with long, spiraling antennae entered the cabin. She wore a deep gray frock and kept her large, yellow-orange eyes aimed at the floor. She was taller than both Zim and Smikka, her head just a little below Dib’s collarbone.
“How do you do?” she greeted, her voice surprisingly light and sweet.
The tentacled aliens finally unlocked the chamber door and GIR tumbled into the middle of the cabin. The robot pumped his fists and whooped. “You were right! That was fun!”
“Ah, I see you kept the Irken’s SIR unit,” Smikka said, motioning for his armed companions to train their weapons on GIR.
Dib hurried to intervene. “He’s not dangerous. I scrambled his circuitry. Isn’t that right, GIR?”
GIR scuttled over to Dib and wrapped his arms around his leg. “Scrambled beyond repair!” he confirmed.
Zim released a breath a little too audibly.
“GIR, was it? Funny name for a SIR,” said Smikka, but he seemed to be regarding GIR with a degree of affection. The tentacled aliens slowly lowered their guns. “Speaking of, what’s the Irken’s name?”
“My name is Zzz…Zoom,” Zim said. The act of saying a different name appeared to have pained him.
“Zoom, you say? Beep and Zoom. That’s sort of cute, isn’t it?” Smikka said.
Dib smiled and played along. “Sure is. Now, I spent a lot of time training Zoom, and so I’ve changed my mind about giving him to the battle zoo. I’m sure you understand?”
Smikka nodded somberly. “Oh, I do understand, Captain. Unfortunately, it’s against our policy to allow Irkens to leave the station once they’re here. Not without successfully completing the Champion Board Challenge.”
“The Champion Board Challenge?” Dib and Zim said simultaneously.
“That’s right. If your Zoom here can win three battles in the stadium within one rotation, he’ll be added to the Champion Board. If he does that three times, he’ll be released. You can take him with you again, with a few conditions. We can discuss that when we get to it, though.”
Dib didn’t like the sound of “conditions,” but it was evident that Smikka wasn’t ready to talk about those. “How long is a rotation?”
“About 20 hours,” Smikka said. He checked a band on his wrist, which Dib supposed was a watch. “You know, you’ve arrived at the perfect time. We have a fight scheduled shortly, but one of our challengers has tragically succumbed to her injuries. We need a replacement, and Zoom appears to be a suitable candidate.”
“Are these fights to the death?” Dib asked, forcing the waver out of his voice.
Smikka laughed. “Not to worry, Captain. That wouldn’t be sustainable entertainment. Besides, Irkens are notoriously difficult to kill… Though if any creature knows how to destroy an Irken, it’s another Irken.”
Dib glanced at Zim, who kept his attention forward.
“Casualties have been known to happen, however. Hence the present opening,” Smikka said. “So, what do you say? You can even join me in my box to watch the fight.”
GIR whined and clung tighter to Dib’s leg.
Dib started to reply. “I’m not sure-”
“I’ll do it,” Zim announced.
Smikka’s smile was eerily wide on his round face. “That’s the spirit. I’ve never known an Irken to turn down a fight. Shall we?”
Zim nodded sharply at Dib.
“Uh…” Dib looked down into GIR’s eyes. “Sure. OK. But I’d like to leave the SIR unit with my ship for safekeeping.”
Water immediately spurted from GIR’s eyes. “NOOO! I’m gonna go with my master!”
“I’m your master now, remember?” Dib said, hating the words he knew he had to say.
GIR sniffled. “I don’t remember.”
Dib shifted uncomfortably. “Well, it’s the truth, so…”
“I guess it is,” GIR said. “So I’m gonna go with you!”
“No, you’re going to listen to what I tell you to do,” Dib said. He thought he heard Zim snort, if such a thing were possible without nostrils.
“Hmmm…” GIR tilted his head. “No, I don’t think that’s how it works.”
Smikka laughed again. “Scrambled indeed, isn’t he?”
GIR’s head rotated toward Smikka. “New master, I gotta protect you from that there robot.”
Dib covered his hand with his mouth and wondered if that was a culturally insensitive thing for GIR to say. “GIR, no, he’s not a robot.” Or maybe he was? Dib wasn’t actually certain.
“That’s OK,” said Smikka, sounding as kind as ever, despite all evidence to the contrary. “We of the Screwhead race are accustomed to such confusion. Now, if you’d come with me?”
GIR detached from Dib’s leg as the human begrudgingly followed Smikka and Beep out of the ship. Zim came after, escorted by the tentacled henchmen. The docking bay was wide and cold and filled with other parked vessels of all shapes, sizes, and colors. Dib wished he could appreciate the spectacle of it all, but he simply couldn’t. Maybe Zim thought he was good in a fight, but he’d been bested by a 12 year old on dozens of occasions. Dib had to figure something out before Zim got obliterated.
A series of tall doors loomed ahead. Smikka stopped in front of them and smiled at Dib. “I’m afraid this is where you’ll need to say goodbye to your pet. We don’t permit interaction between captors and their Irkens until the challenge has been completed. Not that this is an issue for most people. However, I sense you’re a bit sentimental with Zoom.”
Dib stammered over his words. “I, well, I wouldn’t, uh…”
Smikka held up his hands placatingly. “Not to worry! If anyone understands your situation, it’s me. I do care so deeply for my Beep. She’s a treasure.”
Beep smiled vacuously, her eyes distant, unfocused.
“Go on, then,” Smikka encouraged.
“Oh… With everyone here? Watching?” Of course. What did he expect? “Right… uh, Zoom?”
Zim faced him, eyes unreadable.
“You’re going to kick some ass, right?” Dib said, forcing a grin.
“Certainly,” Zim replied. A trickle of sweat angled down his cheek.
If ever there was a moment to magically develop psychic powers, it was now. Dib tried to push his thoughts into Zim’s head, reassure him that it would be OK, that he was right to trust him. He wanted to say to Zim all the things he wished he could believe for himself.
“Great. I’ll be watching, so don’t let me down, OK?” Dib slid his hand over Zim’s antennae as if he were petting him. His thumb caught the base of the communication film and dragged up to activate it.
“I won’t let you down,” Zim said. He leaned his head into Dib’s palm, almost like a cat. Dib stifled his surprise.
The tentacle-aliens stepped between them and marched Zim through one of the doors. GIR whimpered and danced from foot to foot but managed not to chase after them. A small victory.
Dib pretended to brush his hair behind his ear, activating his own comm strip as he did.
“No sad faces, Captain,” Smikka said, patting Dib on the back. It was all Dib could do not to deck him in his smug, beady-eyed face. “I think you’re really going to like the show.”