When the hatchlings wake up, again, they make their immediate displeasure known.

Loudly.

Their cries grate on Zim's antennae and his heart almost leaps to his throat in a fight or flight reflex he can't quite explain, their noises ringing into his head and a very unpleasant odor threatening him to spill the few snacks his squeedily spooch could keep the night before.

"WHAT! WHAT IS IT!? WHAT DO YOU CRY FOR!?" The alien screeched back, making the situation worse as the loud little hatchlings screamed their heads off at the loud voice, tears and snot covering their faces. "COMPUTER! MAKE THEM STOP!"

The AI does not help, a monotone voice drowning on among the ruckus. "I have no data on human young. What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know! Download some! I COMMAND YOU!" Zim yells again, voice loud enough to reverberate the windows amid the chaotic ruckus. Pulling on his antennae, the Irken hisses through clenched, zip-like teeth, noise and odor unbearable.

He has to do something, or he will go crazy before he has any inkling on what to do in this miserable husk of a rock.

"Cease that noise!" He yells again, but his shouting does nothing. Something clenches at him from the inside out, his temper flaring for a hot, dangerous second before his throat closes up at the next scream, and instead, groans in frustration and maybe slight panic. "Just PLEASE stop crying!"

They don't, of course they don't. "I should throw you out of my base." He mutters, but the thought is firmly pushed away for one reason or another. Not because the thought feels wrong, oh no, of course not! The rain would most likely melt his skin if he tried to step outside, and leaving a couple of hatchlings out without a parental unit would raise a few eyebrows. Even on Irk, a smeet on its own being so young would baffle an adult Irken no matter the rank.

It's not because his squeedily spooch churns uncomfortably at the thought of leaving them alone. He's an invader, not a caretaker.

"Information on biology of human young downloaded."

"Thank the Tallests! What took you so long?!" Zim explodes, yelling at the ceiling. "Tell Zim what have you found!"

The computer dares sigh, if it had eyes, it would be rolling them. "Human young are born live from a biological female after an incubation period of nine human months, coming from the fusion between male sperm and a female egg through sexual reproduction."

"Live birth? Sexual reproduction? Disgusting and archaic." Zim mutters, the hatchling's cries are lost on him for half a second. The thought of sexual reproduction and birth is odd when your species reproduce asexually thanks to clonation. "Continue!"

"A hatchling is commonly referred to 'Baby' in human tongue, smeet being the equivalent for 'toddler'-"

"ZIM DOES NOT CARES ABOUT SUCH TRIVIA! Why are the hatchlings crying and how do I make it stop?!"

"Babies require around 24 hours care, including feeding, cleansing, clothing and stimuli. Crying is a response to stressors when one of such needs is lacking."

"Lacking?" Zim mutters, antennae perked up in surprise. "They are crying because they're lacking comfort? Pathetic!" It does not stop him from getting close to the crying humans in thin-veiled worry.

They're disgusting, covered in their own tears and snot, an odor making itself present and clinging to them in a way that made Zim gag slightly. The smaller hatchling has her eyes tightly shut, tears pouring from them, mouth wide while voicing her displeasure. The older hatchling is in pretty much the same state, but his big eyes open through the tears and stare at Zim pleadingly.

In a gesture Zim can't recognize, the hatchling reaches his tiny, plump little arms towards him, hands outstretched and grabbing.

The alien tilts its head, confused. "What is he doing?"

"Behavioral cues." The computer's monotonous voice pipes in. "The hatchling want to be picked up."

"Will he stop crying if..Zim picks him up?"

"See for yourself."

Zim groans, hesitant to approach any closer. Gathering all his Irken courage, the alien picks up the baby from under its armpits. The hatchling cries still, his hands making opening and closing motions. "Like this?"

"Correct."

"It's not working!" Zim almost wails, the sight is disturbing and the smell even worse up close. "Stop! Stop crying this instant! Are human hatchlings weaponized?!" The question is left unanswered, and the havoc of noise is made worse as Gir, in the middle of his mania, crashes through the wall and into the kitchen. The wall is repaired in seconds by the AI, and the sounds scare the crying babies even more. "GIR!"

"Hi mastah!" The SIR cries out, smiling dumbly as it approaches, discarding his small, wer green costume in the process. "Aww, the babies are crying! What's wrong?"

"They want...stimuli, I think. AND IT'S NOT WORKING!"

"Oooh lookie! He wants to be held! Can I hold him?!"

"NO!" Zim hisses, teeth gritted and eyes glowing. It's not that he doesn't trust his SIR..in this particular case. But his patience is running thin with all the screaming. "And do not pick up the female hatchling either! I just need to know what they want to shut up!"

"Aww.." Gir somehow manages a sad expression, coupled with little bits of water at the corner of his eyes, somehow. The SIR's sadness is forgotten in less than a second. "Mastah! The baby wants to be closer!"

"Closer? No- GIR?!"

The little robot, giggling hysterically, pushes Zim's own arms towards himself. The crying infant's head is cradled between the alien's neck and shoulder as it cries. Part of Zim prepares for the sting of pain he ought to feel with the tears that slipped on his neck and shoulder blade, but surprisingly no such pain comes, no burning sensation either. His wonder changes to shock when a pair of tiny little hands clutches his uniform.

The hatchling still cries, of course, but his shaking is reduced, hiccups slightly less prominent. The hold is awkward at best, and Zim doesn't know what to do with himself other than hold the small human to him as Gir, somehow, positioned his arms to a more proper holding stance.

How does his SIR know this, he will ask later. "He's still crying. And smells, they both smell bad."

"Smells like rotten meatloaf!" Gir giggles loudly. "You gotta change the diapers!"

"..Diapers?"

Zim decides right then, humans are completely, utterly disgusting.

They produce waste, hatchlings can't take care of their own waste and thus, he had to do it. Emptying his squeedily spooch at least twice in the process, the thought of ordering his computer to do it didn't even cross his mind in the middle of the frenzied fight for silence. Gir giggled maniacally during the entire process, the stolen goods he got yesterday serving their purpose.

If the Tallests saw him, if they saw what he did, he would activate his self-destruct protocol immediately.

And food, of course, they needed food. They needed food to produce waste. They look a bit less miserable, but fat tears roll down their cheeks still.

"Human young at such an age are unable to ingest solids." The base's AI supplies after a half mumbled query. "They lack teeth entirely. A supplement of milk and/or mushed foodstuff is required for their nutrition."

"Just.. just let Gir handle it." Zim mutters, suddenly feeling exhausted. He's not a caretaker, he's a soldier. An Irken invader! "Drop the data to Gir and let him feed the disgusting worm children, if this...rain stops, kick them out." After a few seconds, he asks. "Why did they ask Zim for comfort?"

"What?"

"DON'T MAKE ME SAY IT AGAIN!" Zim screams, pointing an accusing finger upwards. "Do NOT assume the mighty Zim has forgotten his mission! The hatchlings and I are enemies on this planet! So WHY would they ask for comfort from Zim?!"

"I don't know." The AI's uninterested voice replies, Zim's antennae flattens on top of his skull. "The same reason why you brought them with you?"

The silence in the following seconds is deafening, as Zim's arm falls back down, his bug-like eyes narrowed in silent contemplation.

"..Babies don't hold the same brain capacity as human adults do." The AI breaks the silence, Zim's attention on it. "According to data, all they want to do in these stages are the basic needs such as eating and sleeping. They will latch onto anyone providing nurturing. Especially the younger female. It is likely they can't tell the difference between an Irken and a human."

"HA! Obviously the hatchlings are defective! The almighty Zim does not nurture."

"Whatever you say." The AI interrupts, they both know the security footage of the base, where Zim holds each hatchling in turn as he provides the best an Irken could do to comfort another, as he takes care of their waste, as Gir feeds them, the more sane the SIR unit has been since activation.

It will be deleted in the future, of course, but it existed.

Zim growls, clicks his tongue and stomps away from the computer screen. "Work on establishing communications! I will make something to stop this CURSED EARTH WATER from falling from the sky and burning the almighty Zim!" The alien snarls, and much, much quieter than what he used to, mumbles. "Zim is an invader, I have no time for this."

The Tallests will want a report from their top invader, after all.