* Meanwhile *

"We're sure there is, we just don't know its named: Not that it matters! With your luck, it will probably be a breeze conquering it… conquering it…conquering it…."

The last transmission echoed, faded, and cackled down to silence. A young boy gulped as he heard that tail-end of the transmission. For the last seven hours, he had been trying to get a connection, trying to listen in to the vast reaches of space, trying to finally find proof of alien life! For that goal he had been sitting there, on the roof, for hours, knowing that it was the only place compatible with his Intergalactic Listening Device©! But it had been worth the wait because now, he'd finally heard it! The proof that he needed, at long last, was his!

He couldn't understand why they were speaking English, or why aliens, in general, spoke in English, but that didn't matter to him! He finally had proof of alien life!

Although, he could have accidentally picked up on Ol' Miss Tracheae again as she rambled and raved to empty space... he had regretted this sort of mix-up before, and because of it spent several hours in the bathroom making personal friends with the porcelain throne… Dad hadn't been pleased with him… but this time had to be different! They were talking about the conquest of worlds! So it just had to be real!

In his excitement, the boy named Dib threw off his headphones and, in his haste, almost fell off the roof for not the first time that day, but he didn't stop to dwell on it. He had only one thought on his mind…

He had to tell Dad and Zim as soon as possible!

Zim threw open the door to the glorious fridge; he glared menacingly inside at the hapless fruits and assorted foods that Dib had cooked. Some were edible, while others would have given Zim food poisoning had he eaten them. But Zim didn't care, because Zim was not looking for nourishment. Instead he was looking for...

"NO! DIB HAS DRUNK ALL OF THE POOP! Curse you foul demon known as Dib! You will rue the day you drunk all of Zim's delicious Poop!" Zim's eyes bulged out of his head as he spotted... "Oh, one last can was hiding vainly from Zim behind the milk. It is not Dib who has Zim's wrath now, but it is now the cows that shall have Zim's eternal wrath!"

He cracked open the can and began sipping happily from it. Suddenly, he heard a 'thump' sound on the roof and Dib screaming in pain, probably from jumping too hard off the roof and mistiming his jump again. Soon enough, Dib came barreling into the kitchen. Zim stood by as Dib first went up to their father (who happened to be in the room: Zim had been too focused on Poop soda to actually notice that at first. This was one of the few times that Dad, or Professor Membrane as the world knew him, was home, so they had to soak up as much time with him as possible) and started babbling.

"Dad, here it is! Proof of alien existence…!" Before Dib could get much further than that, he was interrupted:

"Not now son, the world is counting on me to make TOAST! With a balanced toasty breakfast, we will put a stop to hungry people everywhere…! And it will get me started on the day."

Dib looked out the window as Zim continued sipping his Poop in interest. "But Dad, it's night time! It isn't the start of the day at all!"

Professor Membrane jumped and stared out of the window as well. "Ah, so it is. You go and play with Zim while I make the finishing touches on this toast. Soon, households everywhere will have toast, and anywhere I go I will be famous!"

"But you are already famous." Dib sighed dejectedly at being ignored once again by the professor, sometimes referred to by him as "Dad".

But Membrane said nothing and continued working on the aforementioned toast, leaving Zim to cheer Dib up.

"So it worked? You mean to tell me that you were able to get a connection?" Dib cheered up instantly when he realized Zim was in the room as well, completely unaware that he had almost gotten a week's worth of scorn from Zim because of a defiant milk carton hiding Poop from him...

"Yeah, I was able to hack into their channels and listen in on some kind of ceremony. I couldn't actually hear names, but it sounded really important, and aliens really do exist! I'm not crazy, Zim! I was right!"

"Good; I will have Gir try to increase the frequency so we can actually pinpoint a location. We will need proof of this, after all." A crash in the living room interrupted Zim from speaking any more words of encouragement. "Hmm, well, I am going to have to depart now. Gir is trouble, and Zim does not want to be blamed again for the mess of an annoying robot, so I really must look after him."

Dib rolled his eyes at Zim's fancy name for what was supposed to be a pet. "Why do you call him that? Who names their pet Gir?"

"I do, Dib! I do! Now, Gir is banging his head against a lamp, so I really must go!" Zim ran off to prevent the malfunctioning robot from destroying the house.

"What are you?" Dib shouted at the ceiling once Zim had gone. "And why do I always talk to myself when I'm alone?" There was, of course, no answer from the ceiling.

"This is your Standard-Issue Information Retrieval Unit, also known as a SIR. It will assist you in gathering valuable knowledge during your mission." ...Purple had finally recovered from his shock. It was common knowledge that Gazlene scared all who came into contact with her, but he especially was more traumatized by her, freezing up at the oddest of times; it almost always happened to him while he was around her.

Gazlene stood off to the side, video game in her claws once more. She wasn't with Skoodge and Larb; rather, she was standing next to Red, awaiting her next orders. As soon as her ceremony had completed, he had taken her aside. "I would like you to wait off to the side, next to me, while we get the other Invaders situated. You will be given a specially modified SIR and vehicle, but it has to be done later, after the others have their equipment."

So here she was, in a position most would kill for. She was almost at the boss level when Purple interrupted her concentration.

"Who wants this one?" He held it threateningly in his grasp and held it poised, ready to throw.

Gazlene paused from her video game and spared a glance of interest at Purple. He, unfortunately, caught her glance, yelled internally, and threw the unfortunate SIR at a random Irken, his aim off spectacularly.

A scream of pain and a thud were heard, followed by silence. "Hey, you know, I am okay! Ha, I laugh at the taste of pain. Ohh, never mind, it was delayed." Gazlene smirked and went back to her game, taking it out of pause.

"Congratulations Larb on your new SIR. You can take it to the garage. May your enemies crumble!" Larb nodded, grabbing the unmoving, lifeless SIR and running as fast as his feet could scurry.

"This concludes the Great Assigning. For those of you not selected, try harder! It is important to work smarter AND harder, and if you do, maybe you will be chosen in twenty years."

Cheering exploded throughout the room, causing Gazlene to wince a bit, and her player avatar suffered a bit from this negligence. After the cheering died down and the room emptied, the Tallest sighed at the empty room, pleased that there was no longer anyone there.

"That was annoying! It seems every two decades it gets worse and worse. I'm beat." Red and Gaz growled in annoyance at Purple's comment, but otherwise ignored him.

"So what was it you wanted to discuss with me, my Tallest?" Gazlene inquired in interest. She stored her game back into her PAK, since she wasn't bored anymore.

Purple, who was inclined to stay as far away from Gazlene as he could, didn't volunteer any information, but Red wasn't so disinclined.

"I'll get to that, but first, Gazlene, it is no secret that you are one of the best soldiers we have. There's a reason we let you take the Trials of Hobo 13. We felt you were ready to take an advanced course that not many Invaders, or even other races, take. Sargent Hobo 678 was practically salivating at your skill!"

Gazlene never interrupted, but her expression of bored-interest remained. She knew all of this already, particularly because 678 was rarely silent about her skill, and never stopped talking about it. The Sergeant was proud to have experienced such tremendous leadership and tactical strategy. Gazlene didn't care though; It had all been too easy in her mind.

"Be that as it is, we have decided to gift to you a very special, modified SIR unit, and gift you a Spittle Runner. Your height also has a lot to do with this as well, and none of the other Invaders have modified goodies such as these. If they want toys like these, they'll have to build them themselves! The Control Brains were the ones to authorize this, but we would have done this anyway, even if they had not already authorized it. It is, though, completely official; you are our best Invader!."

Again, Gazlene said nothing. Her silence was strained as she glared off to the side, her clawed hand clutched tightly into a fist. Only Red saw the strain, and he knew why Gazlene was acting this way.

"Are you thinking of her again?" He asked gently. Tallest generally didn't speak familiarly with their subjects because the short stature of their minions underwhelmed them and they didn't want to fraternize with those that were beneath them, but in this case, Red was willing to make an exception.

"She wanted me to become an Invader. Told me that I would have the skills for it if I trained. I was shorter back then, and so very confused about why a Tallest would have any interest in me. I feel like I still don't see it; don't know what the interest in me is..."

Red laughed, amused, "Yeah, her Almighty Tallest Miyuki was a bit of an oddball, but her fair rule and advancements knew no bounds. It was, after all, her out-of-the-box thinking that led to the creation of the Irken Armada. Though, I don't mean to imply that she could do no wrong. She wasn't always right; some of the Irkens she mentored grew up as defects, and were not fit enough to invade."

Gazelene's claw clenched so hard that she winced at the pain of it, but the pain didn't diminish the glare she had directed at the ground. "What of the filth that led to her death? He should have defected for what he created."

Purple was very thankful at that moment that Gazlene was not angry at him; the look she was giving the ground was downright hellish...

"No fear there, Gazlene. The Irken was banished to Foodcourtia, far away from here. There he will rot, serving up food to the locals and tourists. I half expected him to gatecrash actually, seeing as he was so, eh, odd... but what does it matter now?." Red shrugged and stared at Gazlene in sympathy, picturing the boiling fury that no doubt flowed through her.

"I'm doing all this for her, you know!" She responded after a long pause of silent glaring.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, she inspired me; she wanted me to do Elite Training, and pushed me really hard. She also effectively adopted me as her protege. That's where I met you guys, I'm sure you remember. Then that stupid defective Irken built that creature, and it went out of control and ate..." Gazlene stopped, shaking slightly in frustration.

"We know. He is stuck cleaning up messy floors and taking part in the Great Foodening. Take comfort in knowing that he will be very miserable for Twenty Foodcourtia years" Red comforted.

Just like that, Gazlene felt better. She sighed, and then, as if the moment never happened, the all mighty fury vanished into the abyss. "So what were we going to discuss about my minion?"

It only seemed a few minutes later that the three were standing in a private garage port reserved for the Tallest themselves (because they liked to feel important). One solitary Spittle Runner was parked.

"We have modified this Spittle Runner to have cloaking technology. It also flies really, really fast. Should you get into any danger, on whatever planet you arrive at, you can disguise it as whatever object you desire. As for your SIR… it's a bit untested at the moment. One of the test drones couldn't be spared for this, so we don't know how smoothly it will function, but we have a very special, modified SIR for you, if you are willing to take it."

"What does it do exactly? How different is this thing?" Gazlene was rather intrigued, and was willing to guinea-pig test the latest design.

"A normal SIR is little more than a robotic minion for you. It has the power of a thermos, and can carry valuables for whatever reason. Normally, one must order out-loud certain orders, and risk exposure of the mission, but scientists have been working on a way to engineer a telepathic bond with their SIR units. Normally, SIR units aren't supposed to be empathetic, and are to be treated only like minions who can do our bidding, but some psychologists believe that if a bond between an Invader and SIR functioned on a telepathic level, it might improve Invader success rate. Minions and Invaders working together and sometimes being able to silently communicate might help in an emergency," Red explained.

"Wow, that was rather long-winded and very explanation-like! That sure was a lot of exposition!" Purple broke the serious mood with his interruption.

Gazlene ignored Purple's contribution entirely and instead thought of her decision carefully. This technology was largely untested and could prove fatal if something malfunctioned, but the Tallest were choosing her to test this latest advancement. If it was successful and she conquered her planet, then all of her race could essentially obtain this gift, and then nothing would stand in their way. With that reasoning, there was only one thing that she could say...

"Okay, I'll do it!"

From there, Red took out a chip from an unknown location and Purple, glad he was contributing, took out the SIR unit, again from a mysterious location.

"This chip integrates with your PAK and rewires your internal organs so that they can process the empathetic bond properly. This is essentially rewiring your entire being so that you can communicate soundlessly with your SIR. If all goes well, you won't explode."

Gazlene rolled her eyes: As if there was a chance of that happening! Most of the scientists working on this weren't defective, and they tested it on shorter Irkens first, so there was virtually no chance of malfunction.

The chip was inserted into her PAK and Gazlene waited for something to happen. She was clueless about the process of rearranging, and wasn't sure what to expect. "Hey, I don't know exactly how..." A sharp, piercing agony shot through her, making her joints freeze up and words die off; she fell completely silent.

'Make it stop,' she screamed internally. 'Make it stop…'

Gazlene bit down on her worm-like tongue to keep from calling out, smoke beginning to rise out of her PAK. She could feel her Squeedlyspooch rearranging itself, and her brain sizzled and stretched, seemingly growing bigger, driving sharp spikes of agony through her entire PAK and being.

'Make it stop, please!'

After what seemed like an eternity of misery and suffering brought on to torture her, the pain of shifting around finally ceased and she felt her body relax. It was finally over!

"That sucked! I am never going to do that again, but at least it's over. What's next?" She got up to see both Tallest staring, waiting for a report. "Is something supposed to have happened by now?"

"We shall soon see." Red positioned the SIR down on the ground and the little robot transformed so that it stood on two nubs. Its eyes were red, signaling that it was in Duty Mode. The Irken symbol was etched on its face, but it was slightly irregular; Gazlene noticed that the symbol had morphed into the skull-version of the Irken Empire, just like the shape her necklace bore.

'WELCOME GAZLENE: I AM MiNi. WHAT IS YOUR ORDER MISTRESS?'

"Holy Irk, I could hear him in my head! Does that mean it was successful then?" She rubbed her head and stared around at the Tallest. "Why is he so formal?"

"Default startup. While you are flying, you can program him to have more of a personality, or don't. It's your choice. There might be some bugs in the system, and major or minor side effects might occur. Keep them in mind for the next time we speak; we'll be expecting a report."

Gazlene rubbed her head in irritation, suddenly bothered by an itchiness on her scalp, but otherwise nodded in acquiescence at the news.

"So the Spittle Runner is programmed and ready?"

Red nodded. "Absolutely. The coordinates of the planet have been uploaded to the ship already, so all you have to do is fly there. Estimated time of arrival is around six months. If no planet is at the arrival point, feel free to conquer the closest thing."

Still woozy and slightly smoking, Gazlene nodded, holding her head in suppressed, leftover agony, and made her painstakingly slow path to the Spittle Runner.

The two Tallest were silent as they watched her stumble her way over. As she stepped within range, the hatch opened, causing her to glance silently at them, but after a few seconds she shrugged and made her way inside, MiNi following silently behind her. They saw her glance at the little robot before he made his way carefully around her and took control of the ship.

"Are you sure she is ready for this technology, which is at such a primitive stage of development?" Purple inquired his co-Tallest.

Red stared after the Runner as it began to lift off from the ground. A small, barely perceptible smirk spread on his face as together they watched the vehicle start to move forward.

"Of course she is! And if not, she will make it work."

Then they blinked and the Spittle Runner carrying Invader Gazlene vanished into the maw of open space.

Growing up, I read a ton of fantasy and science fiction novels. Especially the Dragon Riders of Pern. I loved those! This might have bled into the story a bit. Granted, Gazlene and MiNi aren't connected quite like those dragons, but it is similar. I adore empathetic and telepathic bonds so I just had to sneak them in. I had so much fun writing Zim's bit. I took full advantage of the world and the joke. But if Dib has Zim, then what about Irken Zim? I'm not telling.