Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Is it ready?”

“Almost, my Tallest. Just another few minutes.”

Miyuki looked at the incubation capsule with her arms crossed. The smeet inside was peacefully curled up, unaware of the vast Universe surrounding it, just as the Universe remained completely unaware of its existence.

She had only entrusted one other Irken with the knowledge of the smeet, her personal Service Drone, Twig. Everything to do with this smeet was highly classified and also not entirely legal.

If the Control Brains caught wind of what she was doing, she could be deactivated. Which was saying a lot because the Almighty Tallest can get away with pretty much anything. They're the highest authority in all of Irk, save for the Control Brains themselves. What a Tallest says, usually goes.

Everything Miyuki does is for the good of the Empire. Reinstating Invader training, commissioning the Massive, invading Zyrvax and enslaving the Screwheads. All of it was so that the Irken race would persevere and come out on top, and this was no different.

To the Control Brains, it would appear as though Miyuki was attempting to create a clone of herself to secure a continuation of her rule even after her expiration, which was highly unorthodox and highly illegal for very good reason.

But the smeet wasn’t even a clone. While it did carry a significant portion of her own DNA, it was far from an exact replica. It would grow into its own being, with its own unique mind, its own interests, and abilities, entirely distinct from her.

Miyuki’s intentions with this smeet were for it to grow to be just as great and powerful as Miyuki herself, not so that it could one day rule the Empire, so that it could one day help the Empire.

They were starting small with just one test subject. Miyuki would keep a close eye on it, ensuring not to show any favouritism whatsoever, and she would document the process. Eventually, if and when she deemed that the initial test subject had been a success, she would show her findings to the Control Brains and hopefully go on to create many more of these Irkens using her own DNA.

All for the good of the Irken Empire.

“The smeet is ready to be extracted from the incubation capsule, my Tallest.”

“Great. Send it along to get its PAK, then make sure it blends in with the next batch of smeets.”

“Of course, my Tallest. Would you like to give him a specific name?”

“Yes. Make sure he’s named Zim.”

Chapter Text

“Incoming transmission…”

The Computer’s loud voice echoed through the walls of the base, jolting Dib awake. He blinked groggily, disoriented by the sudden noise. As his surroundings slowly came into focus, he noticed the odd yet familiar interior of Zim’s living room. The TV glowed with the nearly still image of that weird monkey on The Scary Monkey Show, with GIR sitting motionless in front of it, staring unblinkingly at the screen.

Dib jumped up as he realised that he had once again accidentally fallen asleep on the couch at Zim’s base. Gaz was expecting him to be home that night, she would be worried sick! Fumbling for his phone, he saw that it was 2:38 in the morning. Checking his notifications, he saw Gaz had messaged him earlier.

Gaz

Yo where are u? 

22:47

Gaz

Nvm i just realised idc lol

22:56

He decided against replying, just in case the notification sound woke her up (though it was unlikely she was even asleep).

With a sigh, he pocketed his phone and stretched, when the buzzing realisation of what had woken him finally hit him. “Wait, Computer, did you say there was an incoming transmission?”

The Computer sighed dramatically before replying. “Yes, that is indeed what I just said.”

“Well, where’s Zim? Is he gonna answer it?”

The Computer sounded as bored as ever. “My master is currently in recharge mode at his work station in the labs.”

Dib’s expression shifted from confusion to realisation. “You mean he fell asleep at his desk?”

“That would be an adequate human equivalent, yes.” The Computer replied, seemingly already done with the conversation.

“Then just wake him up.”

“Negative. My master is in what you humans would call a ‘deep sleep’. He is proving to be quite unresponsive to external stimuli.” The Computer sounded fed-up. As if he had been trying to wake Zim up for several minutes now, but to no avail.

“Okay, fine. I’ll go get him.”

He made his way to the back of the house, heading towards the newly installed elevator. Zim had needed to upgrade it after his spontaneous growth spurt made the old one obsolete.

Zim being the same height as him again after all these years was a weird concept for Dib to grasp. He was so used to completely towering over Zim since the Irken hadn’t grown a single inch from when Dib was twelve until he turned seventeen.

Then one day, Zim just walked into class a full foot and a half taller. At first, Dib was convinced it had to be some kind of alien tech Zim was using to fake his height increase, since he was self-conscious about this rumour circulating that he had dwarfism, and that’s why he was still 3’7” at the age of seventeen. But the alien looked even more confused about his sudden increase in height than the rest of the school. To add to the strangeness, Zim wasn’t even wearing his usual Invader uniform, he had devolved to wearing what were, in his own words, “inferior human garments”. 

But Zim’s confusion at the whole ordeal didn’t get in the way of his massive ego, or his need to assert his superiority over everyone. For a week straight, Zim would march up to anyone who was shorter than him—which mainly consisted of little children, since 5’1” was still quite short for seventeen—and brag to their faces about how much taller he was, and how “short and stupid” they were by comparison.

He’s continued to grow taller since then, now standing at about 6’0” a year later. Honestly, Dib was scared that Zim would outgrow him at this rate. He’d needed to order a new Invader uniform after the initial growth spurt since his original one could now be used as a crop-top. Though, when a few weeks went by without any reply from Irk, Zim had decided to just create his own. Dib remembers his frustration at having to remake it three separate times before getting the idea to just make it bigger than he currently was so that he would grow into it instead of outgrowing it after a month.

Dib stepped inside the elevator and the doors closed behind him. He began his descent towards the labs, the hum of the elevator filling the silence.

Zim stood on a stage, surrounded by a sea of other Irkens. All cheering for him, all excitedly jumping up and down for him, and most importantly, all much, much smaller than him.

Zim seized the microphone. “Behold! It is I, Zim!”

The crowd erupted into a thunderous roar, screaming his name.

“YES! I, Zim, am the greatest Invader in the history of Irk! All other Invaders PALE in comparison to the awesome MIGHT of ZIM! Revel in your devotion, you insignificant PIGS!”

“Zim!”

“Zim!”

“Zim!

“ZIM!

“ZIM! Wake up!”

Zim yelped as he was cruelly dragged away from his dream. 

Dreaming. That was an entirely new concept to him. Irkens don’t typically need to sleep, but Zim found himself slipping into unconsciousness far more often than usual lately. And with sleep, came dreams. Unlike the chaotic nonsense humans seemed to conjure up while sleeping, Irken dreams served a more specific function. To an Irken, dreaming was a very precise process: their PAK working in overdrive, sorting and regulating emotions, processing data and memories, and differentiating between reality and their desires or aspirations. It was a mechanical recalibration of the mind, but it left Zim feeling disoriented every time. This was mainly due to the fact that Zim’s organic brain wasn’t actually supposed to experience these dreams.

Usually, dreams stay within the PAK, so as not to confuse the organic brain with false memories and such. But Zim’s PAK seemed to be doing a bad job of that lately. Maybe it’s because he’s been sleeping more than necessary? Or is he sleeping more than necessary because his PAK isn’t containing his dreams? Which one started first?

Before he could ponder further, he looked up to see the source of his rude awakening. Dib. “What is it now, Stink-Beast? What is so urgent that you must disturb the mighty Zim from my very important work?!”

“You’re getting a transmission.”

Zim scrambled to his feet, rushing toward the largest monitor in the room. “Heh? Computer! Who is trying to contact Zim?”

“Transmission is from planet Irk.”

Zim’s eyes widened, “Accept the transmission!— WAIT!” he turned sharply towards Dib, pointing an accusatory finger. “You! Get out of view of the monitor.”

The human rolled his eyes, walking back over to the elevator and standing inside to stay out of sight.

Zim turned back to face the monitor, his attention fixed. “Okay, okay. Computer, accept the transmission!” 

The screen flickered to life, revealing a relatively short Irken with hunched shoulders. Despite Irkens rarely needing to sleep, his crimson eyes somehow looked tired, as though he hadn’t recharged properly in months. He wore a stiff, bright red uniform that glowed in the pale light of the screen. The outfit, though polished and official, hung awkwardly on his short frame, as though it had been designed for someone with a much more imposing stature.

He hadn’t noticed that the transmission had been accepted yet.

“Ahem, hello..?” Zim called out, trying to get the other's attention.

The Irken looked up at the monitor in surprise. “Ah, there you are! You took your sweet time answering, I see. For a second there I thought I'd have to double-check your health status. But no, you're alive. How delightful.” 

He did not look delighted.

“Yes, yes, apologies. I am very busy doing very important things. Things your feeble mind strains to comprehend!” Zim retorted.

“Of course you are.” The shorter Irken replied sarcastically, looking back over towards the other monitor. “I am Irken Attendant Drone Quorp. As you are currently listed as being off-planet and having minimal communication with the rest of the Empire, I have been tasked with alerting you of very urgent news. We're recalling all Irkens over 60 Donuts tall back to Irk for a Measuring—”

“WHAT?! But what about Almighty Tallest Red and Purple?” Zim interrupted, his voice rising in alarm.

“Have you been living under a rock? Almighty Tallest Red and Purple have been missing for quite some time. The Control Brains suggested we wait before appointing a new Tallest in case they returned, but that clearly hasn't happened yet, so we are now actively searching for a new Tallest.”

“But what happened to them?” Zim demanded, his concern growing.

"Well, the working theory is that they, along with the Massive, got sucked into a Florpus hole. But nothing’s been confirmed."

Zim thought about that for a second. Did he..? No. Surely this ‘Quark’, or whatever his name was, is talking about some other colossal space anomaly! Yes, the last time Zim had seen the Massive, it had been heading right toward the Florpus he’d created, and yes, the Tallest had stopped responding to his calls immediately after that... But that didn’t mean they had flown into it! They would have had plenty of time to steer around it. The Tallest were just very busy, that's why they weren't responding to his calls!

“Anyway…” Quorp continued, seemingly oblivious to Zim’s internal panic. “let me just pull up your file here… ah, yes, Irken Food Service Drone Zim. Am I saying that right?”

“Food Service Drone?! What kind of disgusting insult is that?! Zim is clearly an Invader!” Zim fumed. 

“Hmm. Well, you are wearing an Invader uniform, but your file here lists you as a Food Service Drone and indicates you were banished to Foodcourtia?” Quorp said, seemingly unfazed.

“That’s outdated! I quit my banishment ages ago. I'm invading the planet Earth as instructed by Almighty Tallest Red and Purple.”

“Earth, huh? Let me just take a look here… Earth…. hmm… ah! Here it is. Nope, Earth is not currently marked for Irken conquest.”

“Well the Tallest said it was a top-secret mission. That's probably why they didn't mark it on the star map.” Zim reasoned.

“Right. Anyway, Food Service Drone Zim—”

“Invader!” Zim leaned closer to the screen, glaring at Quorp, as if sheer force of will alone could erase the insult from the universe.

Quorp barely blinked at the outburst. “Right, Invader Zim, if you are over 60 Donuts tall, then we'll need you here on Irk to take part in the Measuring. Any questions?” He asked, his tone indifferent.

“You want me to abandon my incredibly important top-secret invasion of Earth?!”

“Yes, it would seem so.” Quorp replied flatly, as if Zim’s absolute brilliance was nothing more than an inconvenience. He didn’t even bother looking up from his console, as if he had better things to do!

“Alright, fine! You've convinced me. I'll be on Irk in... uh... about a quarter-cycle.” 

“3 Zorcs? Jeez, what ship are you using, a Voot Runner?” Quorp asked, barely containing a laugh.

“Yes.”

“Oh. Well, six months is way too long. Just stop by Teleportia-3. From there you can teleport to Judgementia, then just fly the rest of the way to Irk. It'll cut the time in half.” His fingers flew over his keyboard. “Here, I’ll send you over the flight plan—”

“Zim knows how to navigate a ship!” Zim snapped, cutting him off. “I’ll be on Irk as soon as possible.” He waved a dismissive hand. “COMPUTER! Cut the transmission.”

Zim could see Quorp give one last eyeroll before the screen cut to black.

Chapter Text

He caused a planet-wide blackout.

How did one tiny smeet manage to cut the power to all of Irk, the greatest planet in the Universe?

Miyuki was uncertain if this was a good or bad sign. On one hand, Zim clearly showed potential. He stood out amongst the rest of his batch of smeets as the only one to do anything even remotely worthwhile so far. Zim wasn't even alive for more than 5 minutes and he had already managed to do something no other Irken his age could do. Granted, plunging the entire planet into darkness for an indefinite amount of time wasn’t exactly what Miyuki had envisioned when she hoped Zim would one day contribute to the Empire. And on the other hand… well, he had quite literally caused a planet-wide blackout.

In fact, this blackout was looking like it could take a while to fix. The day had already been dubbed “Horrible Painful Overload Day”. 

Yet, despite his obvious destructive tendencies, she still had faith that Zim would grow to be one of the greatest Irkens of all time.

Miyuki was busy dealing with the fallout of Zim’s mishap, but every now and then, Twig would track her down to provide updates on the smeet’s progress.

“The remaining smeets have just had the whole of Irken knowledge uploaded into their PAKs, my Tallest.” Twig supplied, almost running to keep up with Miyuki’s increased speed from the hover belt. “There was a delay because of the blackout, but things in the smeetery are back to normal and running smoothly again.”

Twig was a relatively short Irken. Most Service Drones were. Her antennae were drawn back in a straight line, and her blue uniform, though simple, was immaculate, her posture reflecting the pride she took in her role. The uniform's colour matched her bright blue eyes, which stood out beneath her serious, focused expression. She had one of the lowest encodings in Irken society, yet she still took it seriously. She gave this job her all, and Miyuki admired that. It was her favourite thing about Irkens. Determination was a trait she greatly admired, and there was an abundance of it in the Irken Empire.

“They should be receiving their initial encodings within the next few days.” Twig continued.

“And you’ll ensure he gets a Military encoding?” Miyuki asked, her voice firm with expectation.

“Of course, my Tallest.” Twig responded, nodding without hesitation.

Despite what many will have you believe, being an Irken Service Drone is a difficult job. It’s all menial tasks with essentially no pay. But Service Drones are the backbone of Irken society. Tallers rely on them for doing pretty much anything that they just don’t want to do, which, unsurprisingly, is a lot.

Being a Tallest’s Personal Service Drone isn’t technically that much better, with just a slight pay increase and a new, shiny title. But Twig is okay with that. Just knowing that she’s helping the Empire is payment enough. She would do anything to serve the Irken Empire, and hey, someone’s got to do all the monotonous, boring tasks. Because if no one did them, then nothing would get done.

As Twig was nearing the smeetery, she could hear yelling coming from inside. Her antennae flicked towards the door at a particularly loud exclamation. Were the smeets fighting or something?

Pushing the door open, Twig stepped into the room and stared at the sight before her in confusion. Standing proudly atop another smeet, using him like a makeshift footstool, was none other than Zim. 

“—Vort, Meekrob and Plookesia. And that concludes my list of planets to invade once I am Tallest!” 

The other smeets looked at Zim like he’d just spontaneously sprouted a new head.

One smeet with purple eyes raised a hand hesitantly, looking between Zim and the others. “But, like, how’re you gonna do that?” he asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and caution, clearly wary of provoking Zim’s wrath.

Zim’s antennae shot up indignantly as he puffed out his chest. “DO NOT QUESTION YOUR FUTURE ALMIGHTY RULER, PURPLE!” he bellowed, glaring down at the poor smeet.

Before Purple could respond, another voice chimed in, this time from a smeet with red eyes who seemed just as confused but more direct. “Yeah, and we’re allies with Vort. Why would we invade them?”

Zim waved a dismissive hand, not even bothering to meet the red-eyed smeet’s gaze. “Allies, schmallies. That just makes them easier to invade!” he declared triumphantly, as though he had just revealed the greatest military strategy in Irken history.

Twig decided that it was time to intervene.

“What is going on in here?” She demanded, her voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the noise.

Purple quickly pointed at Zim. “It’s Zim! He’s crazy!” He exclaimed, clearly exasperated.

“Yeah, he’s been standing on Skoodge for like ten minutes. I think he’s dead.” The red-eyed one added, gesturing toward the poor smeet beneath Zim’s boots with a helpless shrug.

Twig’s eyes flicked down to Skoodge, who gave a weak wave of his hand to indicate that he was still alive. Her antennae twitched with irritation as she looked back at the group, “And what happened to the Caretaker Bot?” she asked, already sensing the answer.

“Zim deactivated it!” Purple blurted out, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I told you, he’s crazy!”

“NONSENSE! That stupid inferior robot was trying to silence ME! ZIM!”

The red-eyed smeet, who had been quietly observing the chaos, smirked and folded his arms. “In the bot’s defence,” he said smoothly, “ absolutely no one wanted to hear what you had to say anyway.” His tone was casual, but the arrow hit its mark.

“LIES! RED SPEAKS DISGUSTING, FILTHY, HORRIFICALLY ATROCIOUS LIES!”

Before the argument could escalate further, Twig stepped forward, her sharp gaze cutting through the chaos. “Quiet down, Zim,” she interrupted, her tone firm but controlled. “An Encoder should be here shortly to get you all your general encodings.” Her voice carried an air of authority that made even Zim pause, if only for a second.

As if on cue, the door slid open, and in walked a tall Irken. Maybe about 55 Donuts tall (give or take a few Donuts). He wore a purple PAK Technician uniform, which was the same as most other uniforms, but with the addition of a super neat belt!

“Alright, smeets. It’s time for you— oh, Service Drone Twig, what are you doing here?”

Twig straightened her posture, not missing a beat. “Almighty Tallest Miyuki instructed me to assist with the next batch of smeets due to the power being down.” She explained.

The technician nodded. “Oh, okay.” He held out a hand, his posture slightly relaxed. “I’m Encoder Nibb.”

Twig took his hand, giving it a firm shake. “Good to meet you.”

“Alright,” Nibb clapped his hands together, turning back to the smeets, “let’s get to encoding! Who wants to go first?”

Zim’s hand eagerly shot up. “ME! ZIM WANTS TO GO FIRS— AH!” In his excitement, Zim seemed to forget that he was standing on top of Skoodge, and face-planted into the ground when trying to rush over to Nibb.

Red immediately doubled over in laughter. “HAH! ZIM FELL!” he bellowed. Purple, not one to miss out, joined in, both of them laughing uncontrollably.

Over all of the laughing and face-planting, a smeet with long, curled antennae and bright red eyes walked up to the Encoder. Nibb reached behind his back as a PAK leg quickly extended out, dropping a small rectangular item in his hand.

“Let’s see…” He said, turning the smeet around and inserting the device into her PAK, “...Silas.” he continued, reading the information being presented on the device. “Your general encoding should be in…medical!” He exclaimed, inputting the new encoding into the smeet’s PAK I.D.

Silas's eyes lit up, and she gave a quick nod before hurrying off to the side.

“Alright, smeets,” Twig’s voice cut through the remaining giggles and murmurs, “now you know what it looks like. Line up,” she ordered, pointing to the far wall. Her tone left no room for argument.

Red, Purple, and Zim exchanged a quick look, an unspoken competition flashing between them. Without warning, they all bolted toward the front of the line.

Twig did not envy any of the poor smeets that got ruthlessly knocked over by the three (though Zim was by far the worst offender) in their pursuit of being first.

“Hey! You three!” Twig yelled. The three of them stopped dead in their tracks, staring up at Twig. Zim, who was in the middle of leaning over behind Red in an attempt at sabotaging him by pulling his antennae, wobbled precariously, then fell directly on top of Red, who proceeded to take Purple down with him. All of them falling like dominos, hitting the ground with a collective thud.

Twig’s eyes narrowed. “Back of the line.” She pointed towards the far end of the room, where Skoodge was waving excitedly, as if he hadn’t just been crushed by Zim using him as a footstool for the past ten minutes. 

Red and Purple both looked up at her, their eyes wide and pleading, as if hoping for mercy. Zim, on the other hand, was already gearing up to launch into a furious monologue, his antennae trembling with barely-contained fury.

Twig wasn’t having it. “And don’t give me that look! Back of the line. Now.”

The three smeets quickly untangled themselves, and walked shamefully towards the end of the line. Zim grinned evilly as, at the last moment, he made a mad dash to get ahead of Red and Purple and successfully secured his spot just behind Skoodge.

“Oh, come on!” Purple complained.

“HA! Beaten fair and square, stupid purple idiot”

Nibb continued his work, calmly giving each smeet their general encodings: Service, Military, Science, Medical, and Government. Each general encoding led to a specific career path, with various specialised roles that Irkens would have to work toward over time.

For example, under the general Service encoding, Irkens could become Service Drones, Food Service Drones, Personal Service Drones, or Janitorial Drones.

In Science, there were Engineers, Chemists, and Biologists.

The Medical field includes roles such as PAK Technicians, who specialise in maintaining and repairing PAKs. This field has numerous sub-specializations, including Encoders. Additionally, there are more traditional roles like Medical Drones, who handle the organic well-being of Irkens.

In the Government sector, Irkens could be encoded with positions like Advisors, Attendant Drones, or even more specialised roles like Diplomatic Drones, Archivists, Cultural Overseers, and Public Relations Drones, all of which assisted higher-ranking officials, like Councillors. While the rank of Almighty Tallest technically fell under the Government encoding, a Tallest could be chosen from any general encoding. Once selected, they would be re-encoded to take on the duties of ruling the Empire.

Lastly, Military offered positions such as Soldiers, Commanders, Navigators, Enforcers, Slavedrivers, and the newest addition to the ranks, Invaders.

All Twig has to do is make sure that Zim ends up with a Military encoding.

After what felt like an eternity, Nibb finally neared the end of the line. His earlier enthusiasm had clearly faded, and now he simply muttered, “Alright… Skoodge, you’ll be in… Military,” his voice flat and tired. He had lost his energy somewhere around the fourth smeet.

“Zim,” he began, sounding just a touch more alert, clearly remembering the chaos Zim had caused earlier. Twig, standing just behind him, peered over his shoulder, trying to make out the text on the device. Her curiosity piqued as she watched him scan the data.“it seems as though you’d be best suited in…” Nibb paused, frowning slightly as he reviewed the code.

“ANYTHING but Service! Or Medical. Ugh.” Zim cut in, his voice sharp with disdain. “No offence,” he added with a dismissive wave in Nibb’s direction.

Nibb’s eye and corresponding antennae twitched. “None taken,” he lied.

Twig, ignoring Zim’s interruption, leaned in a bit closer. “Is he well suited for Military?” she asked, her tone calm and focused.

Nibb looked up at her from where he was kneeling down, seemingly surprised by her presence, as though he had forgotten she was there. “Oh, uh, yeah. He could succeed in Military,” Nibb admitted, though his voice was uncertain. “But,” he continued, tapping the screen of his device, “if you look here, he actually has great potential for Science.” He pointed to a section of the screen displaying complex code that meant nothing to Twig.

Twig pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Yes, well, the Empire is in dire need of more Military-encoded Irkens at the moment. So if he’s suited for it, I’d say go ahead and give him a Military encoding.”

Nibb stood up, raising a brow. “With all due respect, Service Drone Twig,” he began condescendingly, “this is my job . I think he’d be of more use to the Empire as a Scientist.”

“So you think that Almighty Tallest Miyuki is wrong when she says we need more Military-encoded Irkens?” Her voice was steady, but the challenge was clear, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade.

Nibb’s antennae jolted, his eyes widening as panic briefly flickered across his face. “No! No, of course not!” he stammered, his voice suddenly flustered. “I have full faith in Tallest Miyuki’s judgement, I just—”

“You what?” Twig interrupted, her eyes fixed on him with an intensity that made Nibb visibly shrink. “You just know better? Than Almighty Tallest Miyuki?” Her tone was sharper now, pressing him harder, forcing him into a corner. She took a step closer, towering over him despite her smaller stature.

Nibb’s words faltered as he tried to recover, his antennae twitching nervously. “No! I-I just— I mean that— It’s my—” He cut himself off, realising there was no winning this argument. He sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “...You’re right,” he muttered, his voice now flat and resigned. “If it’s more Military-encoded Irkens that Almighty Tallest Miyuki wants, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Twig smiled, a small, satisfied smirk playing on her lips. “I’m glad we could come to an understanding,” she said smoothly, her voice now carrying a touch of smugness. She stepped back, folding her arms as if to signal that the conversation was over.

Nibb nodded meekly, his pride now thoroughly crushed. He turned back to Zim’s PAK, eyes fixed on the data once again. His fingers moved across the screen, presumably altering Zim’s encoding to Military.

Zim, for his part, seemed both confused and pleased with the outcome. A wide grin spread across his face as he puffed out his chest and proudly strutted away once Nibb finished, as if he had been victorious in some great battle.

Nibb continued his work with Red and Purple, ultimately encoding both of them into Military as well, despite Purple showing more potential for a Government role.

"Alright, all done," Nibb announced, straightening up after finishing Purple’s encoding. He turned to address the entire group of smeets. “You will all now be divided into different training simulations based on your general encodings.” He supplied, looking back towards the large group of smeets. “We’re going to have to transfer you manually because of the power outage, so I’ll escort all of you who are Service, Medical and Government encoded.”

He paused, turning toward Twig. “Twig, can you take the ones encoded for Military and Science?”

“Yes, of course,” Twig replied with a crisp nod, her tone as efficient as ever.

Nibb clapped his hands together. “Alright! Service, Medical, and Government, over here!” He gestured toward a section of the room.

The smeets quickly shuffled into two groups. Once everyone was divided, Twig and Nibb began leading the smeets towards their respective training simulators.

Eventually, the two groups split off, heading in different directions down the long, pink hallways. Twig, at the front of her group, kept her focus ahead, but her eyes occasionally flicked back to check on the smeets. Her gaze landed on Zim, who was—unsurprisingly—poking Red in the shoulder. Red’s face was a mask of thinly veiled irritation as he tried his absolute best to ignore the annoyingly persistent smeet. Zim, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the discomfort he was causing, animatedly raving on about something entirely irrelevant, no doubt.

Twig sighed, her antennae twitching with frustration. Of course Zim couldn’t just walk quietly like the others. 

When they reached the Science simulation training room, She raised her voice loud enough to cut through Zim’s incessant chatter. “Military smeets!” she called out firmly, making sure her voice carried authority. “Wait here while I help the Science smeets get settled.”

Zim paused his poking, momentarily distracted, and Red shot Twig a look of relief, though he said nothing.

Satisfied she had their attention, Twig entered the Science simulation training room with the small group of Science-encoded smeets. The room was lined with seats, each with a Simulator-Helmet perched on top. She quickly instructed them to sit down and put the helmets on, her voice steady as she gave clear, concise instructions. As the smeets followed her orders, Twig gave the room one last check to make sure everything was in order before she left.

Once she was finished, she exited the room and immediately went to locate Zim. What she found though, was an empty space where Zim and Red had previously been.

Her pulse quickened as she quickly walked over to Purple, who was thankfully still standing there, looking around nervously. She marched up to him, her antennae twitching in frustration.

“Where are Zim and Red?!” Twig demanded, her tone sharp, her eyes locked onto Purple with an intensity that made him flinch.

Purple looked like he was about to burst into tears at Twig’s harsh tone. He remained silent for a moment, clearly hesitant to tell her what he knew. After a painfully long pause, he finally spoke up.

“Zim said he’d chew off my antennae if I told you! And you know he’s not bluffing. He’s insane!” His voice quivered.

Twig sighed deeply, trying to rein in her frustration. “Purple, I promise I will do everything in my power to make sure that Zim does not chew your antennae off.” She said, her voice more patient now, though her eyes still held that edge of authority.

Purple bit his lip, looking torn. “I dunno… he’s very persistent. What if he does it while you’re not looking?” His antennae twitched nervously, as though Zim might appear at any moment and follow through on his threat.

Twig’s patience was waning. She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. “Purple, if you don’t tell me where Zim went, I will chew your antennae off.” Her tone was firm, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in her threat.

Purple’s eyes widened in absolute horror. He stared at her, weighing his options, clearly terrified of both outcomes. Finally, he cracked under the pressure. “He said he was bored of waiting and went to find the Military simulation training room himself!” Purple blurted out. “Red tried to stop him, but he just kept going. So Red followed him to make sure he didn’t do anything… y’know… Zim-like.” He hesitated, then pointed down a corridor that absolutely did not lead toward the Military simulation training room. “They went that way.”

Twig groaned inwardly. She was contemplating her next move when she spotted Nibb rounding the corner, his steps relaxed, clearly finished with his own task. He looked surprised when he saw Twig standing there, clearly on edge.

“Nibb!” she called out, hurrying toward him. “Take these smeets to the Military simulation training room. Zim and Red are missing. I’m going to go look for them.”

Nibb blinked, taken aback by her sudden urgency. “Missing? Oh, uh, yeah, of course.” He quickly composed himself and nodded. “Come on, guys!” he called, waving the remaining smeets toward him as he took charge.

With a quick glance back at the smeets under Nibb’s care, Twig turned and began making her way down the corridor that Purple had indicated. The sterile hallways seemed to stretch endlessly, her steps echoing off the walls as she moved swiftly, her thoughts racing. It wasn’t long before she reached a fork in the path, forcing her to pause and glance at the sign in front of her.

←CAFETERIA

WEAPONS STORAGE ROOM→

Twig didn’t even think twice before going right. Zim’s only been alive for a few days, but knowing him, he would definitely go to the place where he could cause the most destruction.

Her pace quickened, her boots tapping sharply against the cold metallic floor as she closed the distance. Just as the door to the room came into view, she heard voices echoing through the hall.

“Zim, you’re such an idiot! Put that down before you get us both in trouble!” Red’s exasperated voice carried down the corridor.

Twig’s antennae twitched in annoyance. Of course Zim had dragged Red into whatever chaos he’d gotten himself into.

“Yeah, well, you’re stupid! And Zim doesn’t answer to stupid people!” Zim snapped back, his voice as defiant as ever.

“Hey, that’s just mean.” Red replied, slightly disheartened. “I’m going to tell Twig that you stole a laser blaster!”

At that, Twig’s eyes widened. Laser blaster? Her steps turned into a sprint, her heart pounding faster as she reached the door. Just as she flung it open, the telltale whirr of a laser blaster charging up hit her ears, followed by a loud, echoing blast.

“AH! WHAT THE HECK, ZIM!?” Red’s voice was sharp with panic, his antennae visibly quivering.

Twig’s eyes immediately darted to Red, scanning him for any sign of injury. Thankfully, he appeared unharmed, though his wide eyes and defensive stance told her just how close of a call it had been.

“Oops...” Zim muttered, guilt lacing his voice. He looked at the blaster in his hand sheepishly. “Apologies. Zim was startled!”

“WHY WERE YOU EVEN AIMING IT SO CLOSE TO ME?!” Red shouted, still trying to catch his breath, his frustration and fear mixing together in his voice.

Twig’s patience snapped. “ZIM!” she yelled, her voice sharp and commanding, cutting through the tension in the room. Both smeets froze, their heads snapping towards her as she glared them down. “Put that blaster back where you found it, and both of you come here. Now.”

Zim huffed, clearly irritated at being told what to do, but he reluctantly placed the blaster back in its rightful place. His feet dragged as he walked over to her, his expression one of defiance, while Red followed behind, looking much more worried.

Once they were in front of her, Twig crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing at Zim. “Do you have any idea how stupid it was to disobey my direct orders and leave the group?”

Zim’s hand shot up, his mouth opening as though he was about to angrily retort, but Twig was faster.

“And then to steal a laser blaster on top of that?!” She took a step closer, her eyes boring into his. “You’re lucky I don’t have you re-encoded as a Food Service Drone for the rest of your life!”

That’s what got Zim to go from 'annoyed at being caught' to 'horrified and begging for mercy'.

His eyes widened, and he practically trembled at the thought. “NO! YOU CAN’T!” he wailed, his voice growing desperate. “ZIM CANNOT BE A FOOD SERVICE DRONE!”

“Well,” Twig continued, her voice cold, “maybe you should have thought of that before STEALING A DEADLY WEAPON!”

Zim’s hands clasped together in front of him as he dropped to his knees. “Zim is sorry! I won’t do it again! FORGIVE ZIM!” His voice was high-pitched, almost frantic.

Twig’s face softened, but only slightly. She sighed, clearly irritated but not completely devoid of mercy. “You’re right. You won’t do it again.” Her gaze then shifted to Red, who had been trying his best to avoid eye contact. “And Red,” she began.

Red’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with dread. He looked like he expected to be scolded just as harshly as Zim, and Twig could see the fear in his face.

“You should have known better,” Twig continued, her tone less harsh but still firm. “Next time Zim tries to do something stupid, you come to me or whoever’s in charge. Got it?”

Red’s antennae twitched nervously, but he straightened his posture and nodded, a look of determination crossing his face. “Yes, Ma’am,” he replied.

Twig’s eyes widened a little bit at the formality, not used to being high enough above anyone to be referred to as “ma’am”, but she quickly collected herself.

“Alright,” she said, her voice firm again. “You’re both going to walk to the Military simulation training room in front of me, and I’ll be keeping an eye on you the entire way there. No detours. Understood?”

Both Zim and Red nodded quickly, and without a word, they started walking, with Twig close behind them.

The hallway was silent for a few minutes, the only sound being the echo of their footsteps. But Twig wasn’t naïve enough to believe that silence would last.

Sure enough, Zim’s patience for quiet quickly evaporated. “When I am Tallest,” he began, his voice swelling with self-importance, “I will make so many brilliant changes! I’ll invade every planet that dares stand in our way, and I’ll—”

Twig sighed heavily, her antennae twitching in annoyance. Of course Zim couldn’t resist the temptation to boast. She bit her tongue, deciding it was easier to just let him ramble rather than get into another argument. Just power through it, she told herself.

As Zim went on about all the incredible things he would do when—not if, when—he became Tallest, Twig kept her eyes focused ahead, determined to make sure they reached the training room without any more detours.

Once the last of the Councillors finally filed out of the meeting room, Miyuki let out a deep, weary sigh, sinking back into her chair. The quiet that followed their exit was a brief reprieve, but it felt fleeting. Today had been exhausting—more so than usual. The ongoing power outage had thrown everything into disarray, and handling the fallout was proving to be a monumental challenge.

It had been weeks since Miyuki had last taken time to recharge, and at this moment, all she wanted was to close her eyes, lean back, and relax—if only for a brief moment of peace. She closed her eyes, allowing herself that sliver of quiet.

But her solitude didn’t last long.

“My Tallest?” came a voice from the doorway, cutting through the silence.

Miyuki’s eyes snapped open, irritation flickering across her face. Her antennae twitched as she instinctively prepared to bark an order. “What is it now?—” She started harshly, but her tone softened when she looked up and recognised the owner of the voice. “Oh, Twig, come in.”

Twig stepped inside, her posture as rigid as ever, but even from where Miyuki sat, she could see that Twig looked almost as tired as Miyuki felt, which was saying a lot, because Miyuki was really tired.

“Zim and the rest of the smeets have been encoded,” Twig began, standing to attention in front of her Tallest. “I made sure Zim received a military encoding—”

“Yes, good job,” Miyuki interrupted, waving her hand dismissively. But her gaze lingered on Twig, noticing the subtle tiredness in her eyes. “But you look tired. Was there a problem with the smeets?”

Twig hesitated for a fraction of a second, her antennae fell back over her head as though she was carefully choosing her next words. “Ah, apologies, my Tallest, I’m fine,” she said, though her tone lacked its usual crispness. “It’s just that… well, Zim can be… how do I put this? A bit of a handful. Or two handfuls. Or... maybe three handfuls.”

Miyuki raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “What do you mean? What happened?” she asked, her antennae leaning forward slightly in intrigue. 

Twig shifted uneasily, her eyes momentarily flicking to the floor before meeting Miyuki’s again. “Him and another smeet wandered off while I was transporting them to their simulation training rooms.” Her words were carefully measured, but there was an unmistakable note of guilt in her voice.

Miyuki’s eyes widened in surprise as she straightened in her seat. “What?” Her voice sharpened with concern. “Is he okay? Did anything happen?”

“Well…” Twig hesitated, wincing slightly before continuing, “he managed to get into a weapons storage room and… uh… steal a laser blaster.” She quickly added, “But he’s okay! Him and the other smeet are now securely locked inside the Military simulation training room.”

Miyuki’s expression darkened, and she stood abruptly, her robes shifting as she hovered towards Twig. “Service Drone Twig, it was your responsibility to look after him! Were you not paying attention?!”

Twig flinched slightly, the weight of Miyuki’s anger pressing down on her. She quickly lowered her head in submission, her antennae drooping as she spoke. “I’m so sorry, my Tallest,” she said, her voice tight with regret. “I was preoccupied with ensuring the Science-encoded smeets were secure. I’ll… I’ll keep a closer eye on him from now on.” The devastation in her tone was evident. Twig was always so dedicated to her duties, and the idea of failing her Tallest was clearly crushing her.

Miyuki sighed, running a hand down her face in frustration before sitting back down. The room felt heavy with the tension between them, and for a moment, the only sound was the soft hum of machinery in the distance.

“You are forgiven,” Miyuki finally said, though her tone carried the lingering remnants of her annoyance. She removed her hand from her face and fixed Twig with a stern gaze, her authority palpable. “But don’t let it happen again.”

Twig straightened up immediately, her expression serious as she nodded. “Yes, my Tallest. I won’t.”

Chapter Text

“Nyah!” Minimoose floated around Zim’s head, making his usual odd squeaks and sounds.

Zim’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he paced around the lab, antennae twitching with energy. “Minimoose! Did you hear that? Irkens over 60 Donuts! Zim is way taller than 60 Donuts!”

“Nyah!” Minimoose hovered closer, bouncing slightly in the air as if in agreement.

“Yes, yes, you are correct, Minimoose! Zim will make a GREAT Tallest!” Zim's voice crescendoed with manic glee, his hands gesturing wildly as he imagined his future reign. “Imagine all the planets I’ll be able to blow up! Entire star systems, GONE! ”

“Nyah!”

“And all the lesser life forms! BOWING DOWN before the ALMIGHTY TALLEST ZIM!” He puffed out his chest, standing on tiptoes to make himself feel even taller. “No one will be able to question my power! I’ll have the biggest army, the most powerful weapons, and—"

“Nyah!” Minimoose interrupted, floating in front of Zim, tilting as if in question.

Zim’s antennae twitched, his eyes narrowing slightly. “What do you mean, ‘What about Red and Purple?’ Those fools have been missing for ages! The Empire needs Zim now! No one else can handle the responsibility as well as I can.”

“Nyah!”

Zim paused, his antennae twitching again. His eyes flickered for the briefest moment, his stride faltering, but he quickly shook it off. He resumed his pacing, trying to mask whatever uncertainty had crossed his face.

“Besides,” Zim continued, louder now, “even if Red and Purple are still out there, they’d want Zim to take over! It’s probably why they’ve disappeared—yes! They’re on some sort of vacation, leaving the Empire in my capable hands!” 

“Nyah!” Minimoose bobbed excitedly, clearly getting wrapped up in Zim’s vision of grandeur.

Zim laughed maniacally, his voice echoing off the walls of the base. “Oh, Minimoose! Think of the GLORY! The whole galaxy, bowing before ME! My name will be etched into history! Zim, the greatest Tallest to ever live! Galaxies will tremble at the mere mention of my name!”

Dib, hidden away in the elevator, watched the scene unfold, holding his breath. Zim had clearly forgotten he was still there. As he crouched in the corner, his mind raced. Was he supposed to just let Zim become Tallest and wreak havoc on the entire Universe? Absolutely not! He had to do something.

But what could he even say? Dib knew better than anyone that trying to change Zim’s mind once he was set on destruction was like trying to argue with a tornado. Still, he had to try. He couldn’t just stand by and watch.

Swallowing his nerves, Dib stepped out of the elevator, his voice cutting through Zim’s grand speech. “Zim…” he started, trying to sound calm but determined, “you can’t destroy the lives of so many people just because you feel like it.”

Zim’s head snapped toward him, his antennae twitching in surprise. “Oh, Dib-Thing. I forgot you were here!” Zim huffed, waving his hand. “Leave Zim to monologue evilly in peace!”

Dib didn’t back down. He took another step forward, trying to sound calm but firm. “Zim, you’ve got a real chance here,” he continued, “you could do something good for once—imagine how much better it would be if people liked you instead of feared you. You could free the planets the Empire has conquered! They’d see you as a hero. You’d be legendary! You could be the one Irken who’s different, who’s loved by the whole galaxy!”

Zim paused for a moment, his antennae twitching slightly as if considering it. Dib felt a flicker of hope. Maybe he was getting through.

But then Zim waved his hand dismissively again.

“Nah, I like the death and destruction route far better.” His voice was final, as if he couldn’t even comprehend the idea of not causing chaos.

Dib sighed, the frustration building. He wasn’t giving up yet. “Zim, you’re not listening. You have the chance to change everything. You could stop all this before it’s too late. There are millions of lives at stake. Other lifeforms deserve to live just as much as Irkens do. You know that, right?”

Zim scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Nonsense! When I’m Tallest, those inferior lifeforms will be begging to be conquered by Irk! That’s how great I am!” He puffed out his chest, hands on his hips, his grin wide and triumphant.

Somehow, Dib seriously doubted anyone was going to be begging to be conquered.

Dib sighed heavily, frustration gnawing at him. He’d known, from the moment he opened his mouth, that convincing Zim to abandon his destructive plans was a lost cause. The alien’s ego was too big, too set on chaos for him to ever consider a different path.

Still, Dib couldn’t just stand by and let this happen.

“I can’t let you go back to Irk and destroy entire civilizations,” Dib said, his voice tight with determination. “That’s insane! I, unlike you, have morals.”

Zim’s antennae twitched as he looked at Dib with a mocking sneer. “What’re you gonna do about it, Dib?” he taunted, stepping closer, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You gonna try and STOP ME from reaching my SHIP?” He threw his head back, laughing maniacally, his voice echoing off the walls. It was the kind of laugh that sent chills down the spine of anyone who heard it—except Dib, who had grown used to Zim’s ridiculous theatrics.

Dib remained still, his eyes narrowing as he watched Zim preen and gloat, completely oblivious to the growing tension in the room.

“Yeah, actually,” Dib replied, his voice unexpectedly calm. His steady tone cut through Zim’s laughter like a knife, catching the alien off guard.

Zim’s antennae straightened as he stopped mid-laugh, his grin faltering. “Wait wh— AH!”

Before Zim could finish, Dib sprang forward, tackling him with a sudden burst of energy. Zim yelped in shock as they both hit the ground hard, the impact sending a metallic echo throughout the base. Zim’s limbs flailed wildly as he tried to regain his bearings, but Dib had him pinned, determination burning in his eyes.

Zim writhed beneath him, thrashing in indignation. “How dare you, filthy human! Zim will destroy you for this!” he screeched, but Dib only tightened his grip, unwilling to let the alien slip away.

Dib’s heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through him as he wrestled with Zim. He hadn’t expected to act so quickly—hadn’t even really planned it—but now that he had, there was no turning back. He had to stop Zim, no matter what it took.

Then, without warning, Zim's PAK legs shot out from his back, extending with a sharp, metallic hiss.

This IDIOTIC human! Zim couldn’t believe the audacity. Did Dib seriously think he could stop Zim’s inevitable rise to power? The sheer absurdity of the situation filled Zim with fury.

Looking eerily like a spider, Zim’s PAK legs thrust him off the ground, lifting him into the air. Dib tumbled backward from the force, landing hard on the floor with a grunt. Zim smirked, towering over the human on his mechanical legs.

"Did you really think you could stop ZIM?" Zim’s antennae twitched with glee as he reached into his PAK, fumbling for a laser blaster. This was too easy. He’d crush Dib, like the insignificant PIG he was!

But just as his clawed hand found the weapon, Dib kicked one of his PAK legs out from under him, throwing Zim off balance. The blaster slipped from his grip, clattering to the floor as Zim staggered, arms flailing to keep from falling.

Zim snarled in frustration, rage boiling in his veins. “COMPUTER! Restrain the hu—” He cut himself off abruptly as he spotted Dib scrambling for the fallen blaster. His eyes widened in alarm. No! That belonged to Zim!

Without hesitation, Zim lashed out with one of his PAK legs, attempting to push the blaster away, but Dib dove for it, barely managing to snatch it up just in time.

“YOU FILTHY HUMAN!” Zim roared, now fully enraged. One of his PAK legs lashed out, trying to knock the blaster from Dib’s hand. Though the blow missed its target, it caught Dib across the hand, leaving a deep, bleeding cut along his palm.

Dib yelped in pain, clutching the blaster tightly despite the injury. He scrambled to his feet, breathing heavily, his eyes wide and wild with adrenaline. His grip tightened on the blaster as he pointed it directly at Zim.

“Don’t move!” Dib’s voice shook slightly, betraying his nerves, but his resolve remained firm. 

Zim, who was just about to reach back into his PAK and grab another weapon, froze, his antennae standing straight up as he calculated his next move.

“I really don’t want to do this, Zim,” Dib said, his hand trembling slightly as he kept the blaster trained on the Irken. “But you’re really not giving me any other options here!”

“Here’s an option for you, Dib-Stink,” he sneered, not even trying to mask his disdain. “PUT DOWN MY BLASTER! And then maybe—maybe—I’ll spare you when I inevitably conquer Earth."

“Okay, see, that just made me want to shoot you even more. You’re really not helping your case here, Zim,” Dib said, his voice dripping with exasperation as he kept the blaster aimed at the alien.

Zim scoffed, his antennae twitching indignantly. “ZIM DOES NOT NEED HELP!” he declared. “Besides, you’re not going to shoot me. You don’t have the… uh… pancreas!”

Dib blinked, confused. “Pancreas..? Do you mean I don’t have the guts?”

“ZIM MEANT WHAT HE SAID!” the Irken roared. “But, uh, yes. The Dib doesn’t have the guts to shoot the almighty ZI—”

Before Zim could finish, the blaster in Dib’s hand suddenly charged up with a loud hum and fired. The energy blast crackled through the air, heading straight for Zim.

With a yelp, Zim scrambled to dodge, his PAK legs springing into action as he narrowly avoided the shot. The blast hit the monitor behind him, instantly leaving a smoking hole in the screen. Zim stared at the damage, his eyes widening with rage.

“MY BASE!” Zim shrieked, his fury overwhelming. His beautiful, perfect technology—destroyed by Dib! Zim turned back to the human, antennae trembling with rage. “COMPUTER! APPREHEND THE—”

Zim was cut off again as Dib fired a second shot, and this time, the beam hit its mark. The energy blast struck Zim square in the shoulder with a bright flash of light. Zim let out a sharp cry as the impact sent him sprawling backward, his PAK legs retracting back into his PAK as his body hit the ground with a hard thud.

The room fell silent for a brief moment, the only sound being the low whine of the blaster as it powered down in Dib’s trembling hands. Zim lay on the floor, groaning, the hand clutching his injured shoulder growing increasingly more pink.

“You… SHOT me!” Zim snarled, his voice hoarse from the pain. He managed to look up, glaring at Dib—who seemed more shocked at having hit Zim than Zim himself—with burning rage. “You miserable stink-beast!”

Dib winced, taking a step back as Zim's enraged gaze locked onto him. “I’m sorry! But in my defence, you were really asking for it!”

Zim hissed, gripping his injured shoulder tightly. “COMPUTER! RESTRAIN THE MISERABLE HUMAN!” he bellowed.

A drawn-out sigh echoed from the walls. “Ughhhhh… fiiiiiiine,” the Computer replied lazily.

In an instant, metallic appendages shot out from hidden compartments in the ceiling, rushing toward Dib with mechanical precision, ready to grab him.

Dib’s eyes widened, and he instinctively raised the blaster. “Computer, don’t do that!” he yelled, his voice cracking slightly in panic.

The mechanical arms froze mid-air, their appendages hovering inches from Dib’s head, somehow giving off an air of confusion despite lacking any facial features.

Zim’s eyes bulged in disbelief. “WHAT?! COMPUTER! OBEY YOUR MASTER!”

The Computer's voice droned, almost bored. “Uhhhh... you gave Dib access to most administrator and voice commands. You can change it through the control panel.”

Zim’s face twisted into a mixture of confusion and rage. “Can’t I just tell you to stop taking orders from him?!”

“Negative. It needs to be done on the control panel,” the Computer replied, as though the solution were the most obvious thing in the universe.

Zim’s antennae twitched in annoyance. “Oh, that’s stupid!”

Dib, who had been standing by, patiently waiting for Zim’s ridiculous conversation to end, tightened his grip on the blaster and raised it again, aiming it directly at Zim.

“Enough is enough, Zim!” Dib’s voice cut through the exchange. His face was set with determination, but his hand trembled slightly as he kept the weapon steady. “I can’t let you go back to Irk. Not like this.”

Zim’s eyes narrowed, the pain in his shoulder momentarily forgotten. His mind raced, desperate for a way to turn the situation around. His antennae flicked toward Minimoose, who had been floating silently above them, watching the altercation with quiet curiosity.

Without warning, Minimoose let out a high-pitched squeak. “Nyah!”

In one smooth motion, the small purple moose darted forward, knocking the blaster from Dib’s grip with surprising force. Dib’s eyes widened as the weapon flew from his hand, clattering to the floor several feet away.

“Minimoose!” Dib yelped, scrambling to retrieve the blaster.

Zim grinned maniacally, seizing the moment. His hand shot to his PAK. He might have been out of laser blasters, but he always had backup weapons for emergencies. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled out two photon daggers, each one glowing faintly with their dangerous energy. He held one in each hand, twirling them with ease.

Dib had barely recovered from the shock when he dove for the blaster, scooping it up once again. He quickly spun around, aiming it directly at Zim.

Zim pointed a dagger at Dib. “Blasters are for losers who can’t handle real weapons anyway.”

For a brief moment, Dib hesitated, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight of Zim’s new weapons. The daggers hummed ominously in the Irken’s grip, glowing faintly with their deadly energy. They looked very dangerous.

But Dib couldn’t afford to back down.

Without a word, Dib squeezed the trigger, firing a shot straight at Zim. The laser blast ripped through the air with a sharp hiss, but Zim was already moving. With a blur of motion, Zim leaped to the side, one of his daggers slicing upward to meet the blast. The energy bolt connected with the blade, deflecting harmlessly into the ceiling where it fizzled out with a faint sizzle.

“HAH!” Zim laughed, eyes gleaming with excitement. “You think that could stop me?”

Dib fired again, a series of quick blasts, each one aimed at Zim’s rapidly shifting form. But Zim was too fast. The Irken darted to the left, his PAK legs extending to give him even more agility as he flipped through the air. Each blast Dib fired was met with a flash of Zim’s daggers, the glowing blades deflecting the shots with ease.

In a heartbeat, Zim closed the distance between them.

Dib’s eyes widened as Zim lunged, the daggers flashing in a deadly arc. He barely managed to dodge to the side as the blades sliced through the air where his head had been just moments before.

Zim’s grin widened, his antennae twitching with glee. “You’re out of your league, Dib-stink!” He twirled the daggers with precision, the glow reflecting in his wild eyes. “I could end this whenever I want. But where’s the fun in that?”

Dib’s breath was coming fast, his heart pounding in his chest. He tried to keep his aim steady, but Zim was relentless. Another flurry of strikes came at him, and this time, Dib wasn’t fast enough.

One of Zim’s daggers swept toward Dib’s blaster, the blade humming with deadly intent. Dib felt a jolt as the weapon was knocked from his grip, the blaster flying across the room and skidding to a halt far out of reach.

“NO!” Dib gasped, stumbling backward. He had no time to retrieve it. Zim was already in front of him, the daggers gleaming as he raised them for another strike.

In an instant, Zim lashed out with both blades, forcing Dib into a defensive stance. The human barely dodged the first swing, but Zim was too fast—his second blade caught Dib across the side, the sharp energy slicing into his jacket and grazing his ribs. Dib cried out, clutching his side as he stumbled.

Zim’s grin was wild. “See? This is why you’ll never win, Dib! You’re a weak, pathetic human!” He flicked one of the daggers toward Dib’s throat, stopping just inches away. “Irkens are just superior to your kind in every way. You really had no chance at all. Even from the beginning, you were doomed to fail!”

As Zim continued to monologue, Dib's mind raced. What would he even do if he managed to incapacitate Zim? Kill him? The thought made Dib pause. Over the last few years, he had grown oddly accustomed to Zim’s constant presence in his life. Sure, Zim was an alien hellbent on world domination, but Dib couldn’t deny that the Irken was the closest thing he had to a friend. Dib had never been close with anyone at school—everyone thought he was crazy, and Dib, in turn, thought they were all idiots, so why even bother?

But Zim didn’t think he was crazy. Zim listened to him intently when he talked about bigfeets and vampire bees. He even went ghost hunting with him that one time! Zim was obnoxious, loud, arrogant, annoying, rude, self-centred, narcissistic, selfish and just generally a bad person, yeah. But he was Dib’s friend. And Dib really didn’t have many of those. So was he really going to be able to kill him? Even if the fate of possibly every living thing in the Universe was at stake?

Dib’s side throbbed painfully, snapping him out of his thoughts. He could focus on what to do with the alien later, right now, he needed to focus on finding a way out of this. 

The alien’s PAK legs folded back into his PAK, he clearly thought they were unnecessary now that he had the human cornered, but Dib wasn’t done. He scanned the room frantically, looking for anything he could use. His eyes landed on a loose piece of metal debris, left behind from their earlier scuffle.

That’ll do.

Zim, of course, was too busy basking in his own glory to notice.

“...And then, when I finally take my rightful place as Tallest, the ENTIRE UNIVERSE will bow before the ALMIGHTY ZIM! You—YOU, Dib-worm, will be nothing but a FOOTNOTE in the glorious history of my conquest!”

Dib seized his moment. With Zim still caught up in his rant, Dib lunged for the metal debris, his fingers curling around it tightly.

“My greatness knows no bounds! The rest of the stupid, stinking humans will TREMBLE IN FEAR once I— wait what are you doing?”

Zim’s triumphant rant was cut short as Dib, without hesitation, hurled the chunk of metal straight at him with all the strength he could summon.

The metal struck Zim squarely in the side of the head with a dull thud, his antennae twitching in shock. His balance faltered, and he staggered backward. His triumphant smirk was instantly replaced by wide-eyed confusion as his body wobbled dangerously.

The moment Zim stumbled, Dib didn’t waste a second. He lunged for the fallen blaster, adrenaline surging through him as he dove to the ground, his fingers wrapping around the weapon just in time.

Zim, regaining his senses, quickly extended his PAK legs to steady himself, the sharp metallic limbs clicking against the floor to keep him upright. But for some reason—and to the alien’s evident frustration—they retreated back into the PAK once again, causing Zim to stumble to the ground.

Seeing Zim momentarily incapacitated, Dib didn’t hesitate. He scrambled to his feet, gripping the blaster tightly. His breath came fast as he aimed the weapon at the Irken, fingers shaking slightly but his resolve firm. Zim groaned as he pushed himself up, just in time to hear the whine of the charging blaster.

Dib pulled the trigger and fired.

Zim let out a sharp hiss as the blast struck his leg, sending a wave of pain through his body. His PAK was already working overtime trying to heal his injured shoulder, and now it was being pushed to its limits. He couldn’t even deploy his PAK legs to stabilise himself. Notifications flickered in his peripheral vision, urgently warning him to seek out the nearest medical bay for a charging station. His PAK could repair the damage—it just needed time. But time was something he didn’t have, not when DIB was still standing! The very idea of dying at Dib’s hands... Zim would die a second time from sheer embarrassment.

Realising with a shudder that, yes, Dib might actually manage to kill him this time, Zim used what little energy he had left to get his PAK to send an alert to GIR, telling him to come down to the lab and prepare to fight Dib, but to not use the elevator. He needed GIR to approach without Dib knowing.

All Zim had to do now was stall long enough for his VERY capable SIR Unit to make his way down. He just needed to survive a little longer.

“Give it up, Zim,” Dib said, his voice steady but strained. “You’re hurt. You can’t win this time.”

Zim growled, hiding the pain behind his usual arrogance. He straightened slightly, even though his leg throbbed painfully. “So what, Dib?” Zim sneered, his tone dripping with venom. “Are you going to kill me?”

Dib hesitated, his expression softening just for a second. “C’mon, man. You’re my friend. You know I’d rather do literally anything else. But you’re so stubborn! Why are you so hellbent on causing chaos and destruction everywhere you go?”

Zim blinked in surprise, his antennae twitching at the word friend. For a brief moment, he faltered, the usual venom in his voice wavering. “Friend?” He scoffed, though it came out weaker than he intended. “You think Zim is your friend? Zim is your greatest enemy! The one who will one day rule your pathetic planet and crush all resistance beneath my mighty boots!”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard that a million times.” Dib sighed, lowering the blaster slightly. “But seriously, Zim. Why do you do it? You’re constantly getting hurt, you’ve nearly destroyed yourself dozens of times... Is this really worth it?”

“ZIM DOESN’T NEED TO EXPLAIN HIMSELF TO YOU!” Zim snapped, though the words felt hollow. His leg burned, his shoulder throbbed, and his PAK was still warning him of low energy. “It is my destiny to dominate this universe, and you’ll never understand the grandeur of my plans!”

Dib didn’t respond right away. He simply stood there, watching Zim with a curious, almost pitying look. “You know, Zim,” Dib began slowly, “you don’t have to do this. You could... I don’t know... use your intelligence for something else. You’re smart. Like, scary smart. You could probably do a lot of good if you weren’t so focused on being all… well, not good.”

Zim blinked again, stunned by the sudden compliment. His antennae twitched in confusion. Why was Dib talking like this? What kind of trick was this human playing?

Before Zim could come up with a response, the faint sound of scuttling echoed from the far side of the lab.

Dib’s eyes narrowed. “What was that?”

Zim’s lips curled into a sly smile. “Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, Dib-thing.”

But Dib didn’t lower his guard. He looked around cautiously, sensing something was wrong. “I’m serious, Zim. If you’re up to something—”

Before he could finish, the ventilation duct popped open with a loud clank, and out tumbled GIR, his glowing blue eyes wide and excited. He lay on the floor, arms spread out like he’d just crash-landed.

“I’M HERE! HI MARY!” GIR yelled, waving wildly from his position on the ground, completely oblivious to the fact that he’d interrupted an intense showdown.

“GIR!” Zim snapped, his voice filled with exasperation and urgency. “DESTROY THE HUMAN!”

Instead of listening, GIR quickly scrambled to his feet, grinning. “I brought the cupcakes like you asked!” GIR declared proudly, running past a confused Dib and skidding to a stop in front of Zim. He presented a large tray with, you guessed it, waffles! Held out as if they were the most important offering in the galaxy.

Zim stared at the waffles, his antennae twitching in annoyance. “GIR, I DIDN’T ASK YOU TO BRING CUPCAKES! I ASKED YOU TO ATTACK THE DIB!”

Dib, snapping out of the initial shock of GIR’s dramatic entrance, shook his head and raised the blaster again. “GIR, get out of the way!” he ordered, trying to aim around the little robot.

But Zim’s eyes suddenly gleamed with mischief. A brilliant idea came to him. He could use GIR’s unique distraction skills to his advantage. “GIR!” Zim called, his voice turning sweet and manipulative. “The Dib wants to know every single detail of the plot behind every episode from all 300 seasons of Floopsy Bloops Shmoopsy!”

GIR audibly gasped, his eyes widening to an almost impossible size. The gasp went on for so long that Dib seemingly couldn’t help but stare, obviously knowing of the trouble he was in.

“Wait, GIR, no! You can tell me later! Right now is just not a really good time for me!—” Dib stammered, waving his hands in front of him to try and stop the inevitable. But it was too late.

GIR bolted across the room with astonishing speed, rushing right up to Dib and practically vibrating with excitement. “Floopsy Bloops Shmoopsy, but everyone bloops Shmoopsy so—”

Dib cringed as GIR launched into a rambling, nonsensical monologue about the bizarre show, all while wildly gesticulating and hopping up and down. The blaster wobbled in Dib’s grip as GIR’s manic energy invaded his personal space.

Meanwhile, Zim let out a triumphant cackle, ignoring the searing pain in his leg and shoulder as he made a break for the elevator. His movements were awkward, and he almost tripped in his haste. His body screamed in protest, forcing him to use any remaining energy to deploy his PAK legs, which stabilised him just enough to stagger forward.

“COMPUTER! ATTIC! NOW!” Zim barked as he stumbled toward the elevator doors.

A long, drawn-out sigh filled the air as the Computer responded in its usual sluggish tone. “Fiiiine.”

As the elevator doors began to close, Zim turned back to glance at Dib. The human was still wrestling with GIR’s chaotic rambling. Just as Dib raised the blaster again, ready to fire, Zim watched in glee as Minimoose floated into action, booping into Dib and knocking the blaster clean out of his hand with perfect timing.

The blaster skidded across the floor, far out of Dib’s reach, and Zim felt a wave of relief wash over him. He might actually make it out of this.

When the elevator reached the attic, Zim practically threw himself out of it, hobbling toward his Voot Runner as fast as his injured body would allow. He made a direct line for the cockpit, the pain momentarily forgotten in the excitement of his escape. “Computer!” he barked as he clambered inside the ship. “Transfer any important data into the Voot!”

The Computer buzzed to life, replying in its usual lazy drawl. “Yes, sir. Estimated time of completion: 5 Earth hours.”

“HEH?! I said just the important stuff!” Zim screeched, already regretting the decision to let the Computer handle such a simple task.

“You’ve labelled everything as important, master,” the Computer replied matter-of-factly.

Zim’s antennae twitched furiously. “Well, of course. Everything I do is important! I’m ZIM!” He clenched his fists in frustration. “Fine! Just—upload the most important important things. Like GIR’s shows and my previous transmissions with the Tallest!”

“Understood. Estimated time of completion: 5 Earth minutes.”

Zim’s tense posture relaxed slightly. Five minutes? He could work with that. “Good. Inform me if the Dib tries to use the elevator,” he ordered, then quickly added, “Also when the data transfer is complete, inform Minimoose and GIR to get here immediately.”

“Affirmative, master,” the Computer replied with what almost sounded like a hint of exasperation.

Great, Zim thought, let’s just hope GIR and Minimoose can distract Dib for another five minutes.

Zim turned his focus to the task at hand. He limped around the Voot, hastily loading it with the essentials—snacks, various weapons, more snacks. According to that irritating Quarb, or whatever his name was, the flight plan he suggested would take about a Zorc and a half. That would give Zim time to make pit stops along the way for extra supplies, should the need arise. Snacks could always run out unexpectedly, after all.

His PAK had finally administered enough painkillers to dull the worst of his injuries. His shoulder, once a gaping wound, had begun healing significantly. The gash was now reduced to the size of a human bullet wound, though it still throbbed faintly with each movement. His leg, while still in bad shape, was now numbed enough by the painkillers that he could walk on it with little trouble. The familiar weight of his PAK at his back was reassuring—it had done its job, though the injuries still slowed him down.

“Data transfer complete,” the Computer’s voice chimed in.

Zim beamed, he might be able to get out of here without Dib even— 

“Also, Dib is attempting to use the elevator,” the Computer added, as though it were a minor inconvenience.

Zim’s grin instantly vanished, his eyes widening in alarm. “Pull up the control panel!” 

“And then Hoopsy said they blooped Shmoopsy! But Shmoopsy bloops Floopsy so they said they couldn’t bloop Hoopsy!” GIR rambled on, his arms flailing wildly as he tried to emphasise the nonsensical plot of his favourite show.

“That’s... really interesting, GIR,” Dib replied, his voice strained as a dull headache began to form at the base of his skull. He rubbed his temples, trying to focus on anything else but the endless stream of gibberish pouring from GIR’s mouth.

Minimoose hovered silently next to GIR, glaring at Dib with an uncharacteristic intensity. The tiny moose’s usually calm demeanour had been replaced with an air of quiet fury, his small eyes narrowed in clear disapproval.

Dib sighed inwardly. He didn’t want to hurt Zim’s minions. GIR, for all his chaotic tendencies, was like an over-excited human toddler—too innocent to truly be an enemy. And Minimoose? Well, Minimoose was... chill. In fact, once you got to know him, the little moose was pretty cool. But now, as Dib tried to process the situation, it was clear that in his attempt to confront (and possibly murder) Zim, he had inadvertently angered the little floating moose.

“Great,” Dib muttered under his breath. “I’ve got an angry floating moose to deal with now too.”

The Computer’s monotone voice suddenly interrupted the tension, sounding almost bored. “Message to GIR and Minimoose from Zim: REPORT TO THE HANGAR IMMEDIATELY.”

“Okeedokee!” GIR chirped, as if he hadn’t just spent the last five minutes reciting the incomprehensible plot of a children’s show.

GIR raced toward the ventilation duct he had tumbled out of earlier, his little feet clanging loudly against the metal floor. Minimoose hovered quietly behind GIR, gliding effortlessly toward the vent without a word, though he cast one last, angry glance at Dib before disappearing inside.

Dib finally allowed himself to move, exhaling a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. The whole situation had spiralled out of control faster than he expected, and now he had even less time to stop Zim. He had to get to the hangar before the alien escaped.

Without wasting another moment, Dib sprinted toward the elevator. “Computer, get me to the hangar!” he demanded, his voice urgent.

The Computer’s reply was cold and unhelpful. “Negative. You do not have permission to use administrator commands.”

Dib froze. Dang. Zim must have locked him out of the system. That slimy alien had probably rushed to the control panel the moment things started to go downhill. The elevator, his easiest route, was no longer an option. His frustration boiled over, but there was no time to let it get the better of him. He needed another way.

He glanced toward the vent GIR had used. Of course. He couldn’t believe he was considering this, but... there wasn’t much choice. The vent system. It was his only option now.

Bracing himself, Dib approached the vent opening and crouched down. He peered inside—dark, narrow, and not exactly inviting. Still, he had crawled through tighter spaces in his years of paranormal hunting. This wouldn’t be that different, right?

Right.

Dib hoisted himself into the vent, the metal creaking slightly under his weight. The smell of dust and stale air hit him instantly. “Ugh, great,” Dib muttered, coughing as he pulled himself further inside.

The cramped space barely allowed him to move as he shuffled forward on his elbows. The sound of GIR’s frantic giggles echoed faintly ahead of him, guiding him toward the right direction, and Minimoose’s steady, quiet hum was the only other sound cutting through the otherwise claustrophobic silence.

As he crawled deeper into the maze-like vent system, Dib’s heart raced. He could hear the faint hum of machinery all around him—the inner workings of Zim’s base—and the more he moved forward, the more the reality of his situation set in. Zim was close to escaping, and if he didn’t reach the hangar in time...

No. Dib wouldn’t let Zim get away this time. He couldn’t.

The vent took a sharp turn, and Dib carefully manoeuvred around it, trying not to make too much noise as the metal groaned beneath him. He could feel sweat beginning to bead on his forehead as he crawled faster, desperate to reach the hangar before it was too late.

Below him, the vast room stretched out, filled with the faint hum of machinery and the unmistakable presence of Zim’s Voot Runner. The roof of Zim’s base was open and the ship was primed and ready for flight. 

Carefully, Dib unscrewed the grate, sliding it aside as quietly as he could. His pulse quickened, and without a second thought, he dropped down from the vent, landing on his feet with a thud.

The Voot’s engines whirred to life just as Dib hit the floor. He looked up to see the ship’s thrusters beginning to glow, preparing for takeoff. No, no, no, no—he was so close!

Raising the laser blaster he had miraculously managed to hold onto, Dib aimed at the ship’s hull and fired. The blast sizzled through the air, ricocheting off of the Voot and into the wall next to it.

As he neared it, he saw GIR frantically waving at him from the front window with a huge grin on his face. Zim sat beside him, tapping away at the controls, guiding the Voot Runner upward, the ship’s engines roaring as it shot toward the open hangar doors. The ship ascended quickly, too quickly for Dib to do anything but watch.

Desperation clawed at his chest. He raised the blaster again, fired another shot, but it was too late. The Voot Runner tore off into the sky, disappearing into the night, leaving Dib standing in a cloud of dust and debris.

Chapter Text

He did it again.

They had just recovered from the first planet-wide blackout that Zim caused, now they have to do it again?!

Miyuki was beyond annoyed. The experiment hasn’t even been going on long enough for her to formally meet Zim yet, and yet she’s already tempted to just put an end to it.

And from what Twig tells her, Zim is an absolute menace to everyone he meets. Twig tries to downplay it, but Miyuki's heard enough by now to know that Zim is constantly talking about how boring the simulation training is, how above it he is. They're not even supposed to be taking the helmets off! 

This time, Zim caused the blackout while trying to escape the simulation training room. All he had to do was wait a couple zorcs and he'd be let out. Zim's batch of smeets was almost done with simulation training anyway!

But because of his antics, the whole batch has to be let out of simulation training early. This time, they weren't able to back up the main essentials—like the smeets’ simulation training—so the Military smeets are being moved to Devastis early. A few days after Zim’s escape attempt, to be precise.

Miyuki was finally going to be able to meet Zim. She had arranged to accompany the Military trainees to their first day of training on Devastis. Despite the damage he’s constantly causing, Miyuki is excited to be able to see him for herself.

“The ship is supposed to be leaving soon, my Tallest. We should start heading towards it.” 

Twig would be accompanying her, of course. When wasn’t she?

“Yes, okay,” Miyuki replied, getting up from her seat.

She grumbled internally as she followed Twig down the corridors, her robes swishing softly. Zim was an anomaly—a wildcard in an Empire built on precision and control. The fact that he had already caused two blackouts in such a short span of time was... impressive, in a disastrous sort of way.

“I still don’t understand how he managed to escape the simulation training room," Miyuki muttered aloud, more to herself than to Twig.

Twig glanced back at her. “Zim finds... creative ways of getting into trouble,” she replied cautiously. “He’s, uh, very determined, my Tallest.”

Miyuki sighed again, louder this time. “Determined to wreak havoc, maybe.”

As they neared the ship that would be taking them and the rest of the Military trainees to Devastis, Miyuki grew worried. What if she couldn’t even recognize Zim and Twig had to try to point him out inconspicuously? What if he’s somehow even worse in person? 

And then a strange, almost laughable thought surfaced: What if he’s... short?

The thought struck unexpectedly, and she frowned, puzzled. Twig had never once mentioned Zim’s height, which she’d always imagined as being on the tall side. With Zim carrying her DNA, that seemed only natural, right? She pictured him towering over his peers, his physical presence matching his larger-than-life personality.

Taking a deep breath, Miyuki followed Twig into the ship. Her eyes immediately scanned the room, searching among the tallest trainees present. He’ll be tall, he’ll stand out, no problem.

Her gaze quickly landed on one particularly tall Irken with bright red eyes and matching red attire. He was talking to another trainee who looked nearly identical to him, save for the deep purple colour of his eyes and uniform.

This was Miyuki’s first guess at who Zim was. The tall red-eyed trainee also seemed to be the first to notice her presence. His mouth snapped shut mid-conversation, and he immediately straightened up, his antennae giving a quick, precise wiggle in respect as he snapped into a sharp salute. The purple-eyed trainee followed suit in an instant, his back going rigid as he mirrored both the salute and the respectful twitch of his antennae. Efficient. Well-trained.

One by one all the young Irkens quickly stood to position, all previous conversations ceasing once they noticed the new presence in the room

All except for one, anyway.

“—but I’m just glad we’re finally going to Devastis. Those simulations were BORING! I couldn’t stand another MINUTE of it! You’re so lucky that I— STOP YOUR INCESSANT POKING AT ONCE, SKOODGE! What could possibly be more important than anything I have to say?!”

Miyuki’s antennae twitched in irritation, her gaze snapping to the offender. A tiny Irken—barely chest-height compared to his peers—stood in the middle of the group, clearly oblivious to her presence. She hadn’t noticed him at first; he was half the size of the red and purple Irkens. But as he gesticulated with exaggerated impatience, some familiar quality about him struck her with a sinking feeling.

“Irken Military Trainee,” Miyuki’s voice was cold and commanding, “what is the meaning of this? Do you forget your place?”

“Eh?” The small trainee turned toward her, and for a moment, Miyuki was struck by how much smaller he was compared to the others. “Oh, my Tallest! Apologies! You enter rooms very quietly!”

Miyuki raised an eyebrow, her patience already wearing thin with this tiny trainee who clearly didn’t know his place. “I enter rooms quietly?” Her gaze swept over the rest of the trainees who were already saluting. “Then how is it that you are the only one who failed to notice me?”

The tiny Irken’s eyes darted around nervously. “ZIM NOTICED YOU! He just, ehh, didn’t think you wanted to be saluted! Yes, that’s right!”

Miyuki blinked, the realisation slowly sinking in. Her eyes widened slightly. Wait... “Zim?” she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral. She glanced at the taller trainees, internally begging that she had somehow misunderstood. “Who’s Zim?”

The small trainee puffed out his chest dramatically. “ZIM IS ME! I AM ZIM! IN ALL HIS ZIMNESS!” His voice echoed proudly through the room as if he had just delivered the most important revelation in Irken history.

Miyuki could cry.

She didn’t recognize him, he was worse in person, and he was short. All of Miyuki’s worries had come to fruition.

The entire flight to Devastis, Zim couldn’t sit still. He paced in circles, listing off every planet he would invade as Tallest (for the tenth time), then tried to get the others to chase him so he could sprint around the ship like a malfunctioning maintenance bot.

He was outrageously loud, opinionated, and utterly self-absorbed.

Confidence of this magnitude in an Irken that short? That was a problem.

Short Irkens weren’t supposed to be proud. They weren’t supposed to challenge authority, act as equals, or—Irk forbid—see themselves as superior to those taller than them. Taller Irkens had carefully cultivated a society where Tallest ruled without contest, where height dictated worth, and where no one dared question their place in the hierarchy. Miyuki agreed with that system—she had benefited from that system. The last thing she wanted was for an entire generation of smeets to believe that height didn’t matter, that they could just will themselves into power with enough bluster and bravado.

And Zim? Zim didn’t just ignore his shortness, he outright defied it. No hesitation, no shame. He didn’t just want to be Tallest. He believed he would be. Worse, he acted as though it was inevitable! It was unnatural. It was unsettling. And if this trait was the result of her DNA, if this level of delusion and ambition was something she had inadvertently created—

Miyuki exhaled slowly, rubbing at her temples as the ship rumbled beneath her.

By the time that they reached Devastis and were about to begin their first round of training, Miyuki had hoped—prayed, even—that he’d burn out. Surely, someone with that much energy would need to crash eventually. But no. He was just as energetic here as he was on the ship. Maybe even more.

The military training grounds of Devastis were as imposing as ever. Vast, barren, and harsh. The perfect setting for moulding the next generation of Irken soldiers. Miyuki glanced over at the other trainees—they were a little jittery, sure, but they at least had the sense to look focused. Zim, on the other hand, was...

“All right, MAGGOTS!” The drill instructor’s voice boomed across the field, cutting through Miyuki’s thoughts. The young soldiers-to-be straightened up immediately. Even Zim froze in place for half a second before resuming his bouncing.

“I’m Instructor Bip, and since it’s your first day, we’re gon’ start with somethin’ EASY that your PEA-SIZED BRAINS can COMPREHEND!” she yelled. “Just some teamwork exercises so BASIC, even a newly formed SMEET could do them!”

Miyuki was… worried, to say the least. Watching Zim in action from her place on the sidelines, all his erratic and unrestrained energy on display, she found herself feeling a creeping doubt that was hard to ignore. If Zim failed, if his reckless tendencies overshadowed his potential, she thought uneasily, what did that say about her? Zim wasn’t just another Irken, he was, in some ways, a reflection of herself, a soldier carefully chosen, shaped with her own DNA. In her ambition, she’d hoped to foster a warrior that embodied her best qualities; her strategic prowess, her sense of authority, her skill. But was that truly what she’d created?

When she turned her attention back to the trainees, she noticed Instructor Bip was gesturing towards a giant empty patch of land covered with a metal foundation. The Instructor tapped a few commands on the interface projected above her arm for a moment, before the barren land was transformed into an elaborate training course.

“LISTEN UP!” Bip's voice cut sharply through the air. “I’m splitting you into two teams. Your task is to complete this course as FAST as IRKENLY possible. I’m timing you, and the clock stops only when EVERY member of your team has crossed the finish line. UNDERSTOOD?!”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the ranks of nervous trainees.

“GOOD!” Bip extended her arm, dividing the trainees into two groups with a swift motion. “Team A,” she indicated to her left, “you're up first. MOVE IT!”

Team A shuffled into position, a mixture of anticipation and anxiety in their movements. Among them was Zim, alongside the tall trainees with red and purple eyes, the short, stocky trainee Zim had been conversing with on the ship, and about fifteen others Miyuki hadn’t noted before.

“You’ve got one minute to strategize,” Bip announced, tapping at the screen above her arm. “Countdown starts… NOW!”

At her command, four metal walls shot up from the ground, encasing the remaining trainees. Miyuki assumed this was to prevent them from watching and copying the first team’s approach.

Team A immediately erupted into frantic, overlapping chatter, each trainee trying to make themselves heard over the others.

But Miyuki barely registered the commotion—her attention was locked on Zim, who had just kicked the legs out from under the trainee beside him.

The other Irken yelped as he hit the ground, but before he could react, Zim had already stepped onto his back, using him as a makeshift step. With a grunt, Zim pushed himself slightly higher—barely even bothering to avoid the downed Irken’s PAK—and, with perfect obliviousness, stood atop his fallen teammate like he was nothing more than a glorified footstool.

Miyuki leaned closer, zeroing in on the short trainee. Maybe this could be Zim’s moment to shine? Would he command his teammates through the course in record time, gaining the ultimate respect of his peers, just as Miyuki once had?

She watched as Zim turned to address the group, his voice booming across the field. "FELLOW TEAMMATES!—" He suddenly stopped, lowered his voice as if reconsidering his words, and then corrected himself with a louder, more disdainful tone, "LESSER TEAMMATES!"

Zim’s proclamation obviously irritated the trainees, as evident from their scowls and crossed arms. "Today you have the unique privilege of being commanded by the SINGLE BEST IRKEN AND SOON-TO-BE RULER OF THE KNOWN UNIVERSE!"

Miyuki honestly didn’t know how to feel about Zim already vying for her job.

“Observe and emulate me, if you can muster a FRACTION of my—"

"TIME’S UP! GO, GO, GO!"

Bip cut Zim off mid-motivational speech, sending the trainees scattering towards their first obstacle, a giant rectangular abyss. The only way across appeared to be a series of high-tech see-saws, precariously balanced on narrow columns.

One brave trainee took the initiative, leaping onto the first platform. It wobbled violently as she landed, the trainee flailing her arms in a desperate attempt to stay upright. With a shriek, she toppled sideways into the abyss—only to be caught by an invisible net that flared red as she hit it.

Seeing this, the other trainees looked around nervously, none wanting to be the next one to jump forward and lose their balance just as the previous trainee had.

“Okay, so this is a balance challenge,” the tall red trainee said, stepping forward and scanning the obstacle. “We could try going one at a time, sticking to the middle to keep the weight centred on the column—”

“FOOLISHNESS!” Zim’s shrill voice interrupted. He jabbed a finger in Red’s direction. “As if you have the AGILITY to cross such a delicate structure, Red! I’ve seen you trip over NOTHING—air, Red! NOTHING BUT AIR!”

Red turned to face Zim, his expression flat with disbelief. “Wh—yeah, because I keep growing taller, which throws off my balance occasionally!” he shot back, his antennae twitching in irritation. “Not all of us have the luxury of staying the same height forever, Zim.”

“LIES!” Zim screeched. “If you’re so graceful and agile, then why don’t YOU go first?!”

“MAYBE I WILL!” Red shot back, his antennae pinned back in annoyance.

What exactly was Zim’s plan here? This Red was his teammate, why on Irk was he riling him up? That makes him more likely to make a mistake, which could jeopardise their team’s final time tremendously. Miyuki held out hope that maybe Zim had a plan. Maybe he just wanted this Red guy out of the picture, because he knew the taller trainee would be a liability? Whatever the case. Miyuki watched on.

Red huffed as he walked toward the platforms. His face was hard to read, but a nervous twitch of his antennae gave him away. 

Red jumped and landed in the middle of the platform. It swayed a bit while Red desperately tried to balance it out, and after a moment, the swaying near stopped. The trainee smirked and looked back towards his teammates.

“See? I told you I could—”

“HOLY HEFDAL! A GIANT SNARLAG!” Zim screeched, pointing towards Red.

Red yelped and jerked his head around, completely losing focus. The platform wobbled violently under him as his balance went haywire. His arms flailed, and with a desperate grunt, he lunged forward, grabbing the second platform with both hands. His legs remained planted on the first, his body now stretched awkwardly between the two.

“WHAT?! WHERE?!” Red shouted, antennae quivering as he madly tried to scan the area.

While everyone was frantically looking around for the elusive snarlag, Zim jumped onto the first platform gracefully, then walked across Red’s back to get to the second one.

“ZIM!? IS THAT YOU?! What the– OW! GET OFF MY PAK!” Red yelled, holding onto the platforms for dear life.

With apparent ease, Zim crouched down on the second platform’s column, looking down at Red’s desperate form.

“Yes! Very agile, indeed!” Zim smirked.

From the group of Zim’s remaining teammates, a cackle burst through the tension. Miyuki turned to see the purple trainee doubled over, clutching his sides as his laughter echoed across the course. “HA! Oh, Irk, Red. You should’ve seen your FACE!”

“PURPLE!” Red roared. “STOP YOUR STUPID LAUGHING AND HELP ME UP, SO I CAN KILL THIS IDIOT!”

Eventually—with very little help from Purple—Red managed to climb his way back up to the middle of the first platform, then jumped back onto solid ground.

“OKAY! Since jumping through the middle is too unstable, here’s what we’re going to do!” Red said, shaking out his hands and glaring at the others. “Listen up, because I’m only saying this once. We split into four groups—make sure they’re evenly balanced weight-wise. Once we’ve got the groups sorted, two of them will jump onto either side of the first platform at the same time,” Red continued, gesturing toward the precarious see-saws. “That’ll keep the platform from tipping over completely. Then they’ll jump onto the second platform, and the second group will follow after them and jump onto the first platform. We just keep moving forward like that, taking turns, keeping the weight even, until we’re all across.”

The trainees exchanged uncertain glances, a few of them already muttering about how “complicated” it sounded.

Miyuki looked over at where Zim was still perched between the second platforms. He sat on the central column, swinging his legs idly as though he wasn’t in the middle of a high-stakes training exercise. His expression was a mix of annoyance and impatience.

“HURRY UP, RED!” Zim shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Zim grows BORED! I need more bodies to use as bridges!”

Miyuki blinked, unsure if she’d heard him correctly. She glanced at the rest of the trainees, who were too busy dividing themselves into groups to react to Zim’s bizarre proclamation.

Eventually, the groups were sorted with about four trainees per group. Group One and Group Two took their positions on either side of the first platform. With some hesitant glances at each other, they all leapt forward simultaneously. The platform tilted precariously but held steady.

“See?” Red called from the starting line. “It works! Just keep moving forward!”

Groups One and Two carefully moved to the second platform while Groups Three and Four leapt onto the first, repeating the process with shaky but manageable coordination.

Miyuki’s attention drifted back to Zim. He’d now made his way over to one side of the second platform—his added weight not seeming to tilt the balance at all—inspecting the slightly taller, stockier trainee with a glint in his eye. “Skoodge!” Zim barked, pointing at the trainee. “Move to the centre column and let Zim use you as a bridge so I may cross to the third platform!”

The trainee hesitated, glancing nervously at Zim, then back towards Red, whose voice boomed from the starting line. “NO! DON’T MOVE! YOU’LL THROW OFF THE BALANCE!”

The trainee—Skoodge—looked back at Zim again. Zim gave him an ominous stare, narrowing his eyes in a way that said, You really want to defy me?

Skoodge gulped and started to move toward the middle column.

“STOP! I SAID STOP!” Red was screaming now, his voice hoarse with frustration.

As the bigger trainee shifted his weight, the platform began to sway violently. The trainees on both sides cried out, scrambling to steady themselves, but it was too late. The platform tipped sharply to one side, sending half the team tumbling into the glowing red net below. In the chaos, the trainees on the first platform desperately tried to jump back onto the solid ground of the starting line, some falling, but most managing to make it back.

Zim, however, leapt forward just as the platform pitched the opposite way. For a moment, it seemed like he wouldn’t make it. Then, without warning, four metallic limbs shot out of his PAK, extending to grab hold of the edge of the third platform. The sudden movement left the remaining trainees—and Miyuki—staring in stunned silence.

PAK legs? Already? Miyuki’s mind raced. Most trainees didn’t gain usage of their PAK legs until a while into their training. This was remarkable. But why? She leaned forward, watching him intently. Could it be because of his size? Is his PAK compensating for his stature, giving him an edge in agility to keep up? 

From the moment Miyuki first laid eyes on Zim, her hopes for their first test subject had plummeted. He was short—concerning, but not an immediate disqualifier. He still had time to grow, after all. What truly worried her was his absolute audacity . Despite his ridiculously small stature, he carried himself as if he were the most important being in the universe. Confidence was one thing, but this? This was something else entirely.

Her initial hypothesis had been simple: by using a high percentage of her own DNA, she would create the ideal Irken soldier. Of course, genetics is a complicated science. No matter how much superior Almighty Tallest DNA a smeet had, there was no guarantee they’d turn out as expected. But that was the entire point of this test trial—to prove that her approach at least worked. Once she had the results to back it up, the Control Brains would have no choice but to acknowledge the potential of her project. Then she could consult as many genetic scientists as she wanted and refine the process even further!

All this to say that Miyuki’s initial impression of Zim did not fit into the outline of her ideal Irken soldier.

But as she watched Zim’s PAK legs pull him safely onto the platform, Miyuki couldn’t help but think that maybe she had written him off too soon. Maybe there was still time yet for Zim to prove his worth. And most importantly, maybe her experiment did have some merit.

Her musings were suddenly interrupted by Zim springing to his feet.

“HAHAHA! SEE? ZIM IS CLEARLY BETTER THAN YOU PATHETIC INFERIORS!” He pointed dramatically at Red and Purple, who were still at the starting line, gaping at the chaos that had just unfolded. “BEHOLD MY GREATNESS! YOU COULD ONLY DREAM OF SUCH SKILL!”

But then again… maybe not.