Ayam

Taste

In the weeks that followed, Zim combed through almost every page of the Records, convinced that even the mind-numbing portions of law and number-chronicling held some secret that he could uncover. Whenever he was summoned for testing, he hid the screen hurriedly and left his cell, pondering what it could all mean. At the end of every painful test, he would drag himself back to his cell, snarling threats the entire way, then lie down on the floor to recover. Often, Dib would walk by his cell, throwing taunts at him. Zim always demanded release, but the horrible child would only laugh at him. Him! The future slave-master of the entire race.

One day, after a particularly grueling experiment, Zim lay curled in the corner. He heard the bootsteps, and decided he wouldn't even acknowledge Dib this time. He wasn't worth it. If only the burning would stop so Zim could concentrate and talk to Ayam. Whatever or whoever this Ayam was, he was most informative. He was even, Zim secretly admitted, pleasant conversation. Intelligent conversation at least. Much better than GIR's mindless prattling.

"Hey spaceboy. You might like to see this." Dib's voice was smug. Zim cracked his eye open, peering through the slit as Dib toted a hoverscreen into view, adjusting the dials. "Thought you might want to know how you were caught."

Zim's antenna twitched.

"See," Dib gloated, "No one would believe me, but an actual transmission from actual aliens proves things."

The Irken frowned. "What are you saying, smelly?"

Dib gestured to the screen. "Why don't you watch for yourself?"

Despite himself, Zim glanced at the screen. For a second, he gave a glad cry. "My Tallests!" A smile split his face. "You've come to rescue me!"

"Hello, Earthlings. I greet you in the name of the Irken Empire." Tallest Red stood, arms crossed as he delivered his message, while Tallest Purple waved from the side.

"This message was sent to all Agents of the Swollen Eyeball network." Dib explained smugly.

"A while ago, we exiled one of our worst Invaders to your rock, hoping he would die. Unfortunately, he hasn't, and we're sick of his plots messing up our plans for Invasion."

"Not to mention his constant calls. And the times he tries to force us to come to Earth." Purple whined.

"The point is," Red continued, "We're sick of him. We would appreciate it if you caught him and did whatever it is you want to do to him, just get him to shut up and leave us alone. This," and here, Red disappeared as a hologram of Zim in disguise popped up, "Is what he looks like. In disguise, of course."

Purple pushed aside the hologram and chirped, "In exchange for dealing with Zim, we'll promise never to blow up or invade your planet. Everybody wins!"

"Except Zim," Red snickered. "Which is just fine with us. Almighty Tallests Red and Purple out."

The screen fizzled into blackness. Zim stared at the screen, the smile frozen to his face.

"So, Zim, any thoughts?" Dib smirked. "Any proclamations of doom and destruction, or are you still under the delusion that you really were sent to conquer us?"

Zim's eyes began to smart. He hadn't closed them once since the transmission began. Slowly, he pulled himself to his feet and turned to Dib. The boy's grin faltered at the crazy smile pasted on the Irken's face. Without warning, Zim lunged at the wall of the cell, slamming into it face-first and scratching furiously at the glass. Little shavings curled out from under his claws and dropped to the ground.