Ayam

Vision

Zim stood in a corridor, looking curiously up and down it. His body didn't feel quite like his body. It felt lighter somehow. At one end of the corridor he could see himself, huddled unconscious in a corner of Tak's ship while his PAK furiously repaired the damage the scientists had done with their last test. He smiled. So, Dib had pulled it off and gotten him out of there after all. A cyan blur careened around Zim, laughing and shouting happily about the big-headed boy. Zim's smile widened. Dib had even rescued GIR. He shook his head. He didn't think it was possible, but apparently Ayam didn't joke when he said nothing was impossible with him.

At the other end of the corridor was a brilliant glow. He hurried toward the light, filled with a sense of anticipation. Something good was going to happen, something wonderful.

A deathly cold hand clamped down on his shoulder, halting his progress. Confused, he looked up. A brilliant figure stood there, covered in light and gold and jewels, with a face as radiant as the sun. But coldness seeped from his being, a coldness that worked its way through Zim's skin and into his heart. He tried to break free, but the figure's grip was like a vise.

"You cannot have this one!" The figure hissed. "Your price covered the human race, not the Irken race. This one was not paid for. Besides that, he has the blood of dozens of Irkens on his hands. Not a single training session passed without him murdering some classmate, not to mention the thousands that died due to his efforts in Impending Doom. Of his own race, no less. An incompetent murderer like him is rightfully mine!"

He gave himself to Me.

Zim turned his head, but could not see. The light blinded him, searing his eyes so that the figure beside him seemed dull and dingy in comparison.

He gave himself to me. The price covers any who choose.

Zim's heart leaped. "Ayam?"

At the mention of that name, the grip on Zim's shoulder loosened. Jerking away, Zim rushed forward, shouting, "Ayam! Ayam!"

He couldn't see, but he staggered onward, arms outstretched, blindly groping on. The light weighed down on him, pressing him to his knees. He dropped, panting, to his face, arms stretched forward as if to keep reaching. As he did, a voice wound through his mind.

I Am preparing events, Zim, to appear to your kind. During the next thousand years, I will begin calling together ones, like you, who can hear Me. They will speak to the Irken race. They will be rejected time and time again, with ridicule, exile, and execution. But I will come to them, just as I came to the humans. Then, just as the humans have had to choose, so will the Irken race.

Zim remained cowed on the ground, trembling. His vision cleared, and a pair of boots came into view. Zim gasped. They were standard issue Invader boots. Trembling, he pushed himself up and raised his eyes, but only a little. He took in the black boots and the bottom hem of a red tunic, striped black. A three-clawed hand reached out to him. He hesitated, terrified. He couldn't look up or come close to this being, it wasn't possible. The light had all but blinded him, he would melt away entirely!

Come, Zim.

Gulping, Zim reached out a shaking hand and grasped the other's. A strong grip pulled him fully to his feet, but he kept his eyes lowered.

"Look at Me."

His antennae trembled as they heard Ayam's voice for the first time. Tentatively, Zim raised his eyes.

A warm smile greeted him, a toothy one framing zipper-like teeth. Ruby-red eyes reflected Zim's shocked expression. The Irken was, perhaps, an inch or two taller than Zim, but looked like him in almost every respect.