I own nothing. Not even the room I'm staying in right now... :P

Prologue

The gloved hand grasped the front of his uniform weakly, yet with commendable determination. Dimmed eyes threatened to close, blinking furiously in an attempt to focus as the weakened limb pulled his face closer to the slick lips. A faint smile played across them, humorless and pale.

"L...lucky bastard." Her eyes fluttered for a moment and her grip tightened. He could feel the slight sharp sting of her tapered fingertips. She mouthed something more, but her voice was lost in thick fluid, and a trickle of blood slid down her chin. He knelt down to wipe it away, returning the mockery of a grin.

"I'd hardly say that's a true assumption. He's not exactly the sanest of our race. Or the most reliable..."

He watched her eyes finally relent in their struggle to remain open, and shut slowly, mercifully. Sadly, he let his own roam the stale chamber, squinting against the onslaught of artificial illumination from above. A liquid-induced cough from one of the cots in the far corner penetrated the soft moans emanating from the many prone forms around where he knelt. A few had turned their garnet gazes to the ceiling, mouths grim against leaking eyes and vehement shuddering. The air itself seemed to fester with its own sickness, and pressed dank and rancid upon them, possibly as damp and heavy as the thick sheets they huddled beneath. He felt the grasp on his uniform ebb and looked down as Lett's arm slid limply down to rest on the tough grainy cot once more. It looked like she had at last surrenderd to unconciousness.

Sighing deeply, Sen stood up, and placing a hand on her furrowed brow, smoothed back a sweat-slick antenna. He watched her unconcious form intently, awaiting the reassuring rise and fall of the chest. There it was. Shallow, but still there. Content to some miniscule extent, he turned and made his way out of the rapidly filling sick-compartment of the once proud (and healthily populated) vessel.

Looking over his shoulder upon reaching the doorway, he felt a slight pang of guilt for his pristine condition. He knew that he was on no account the cause of his people's suffering. Actually, it was he who would seek to end it, and by no easy means at that. A last desperate attempt at salvage...

There was no one to blame really. No one caused these things, after all. No one sporting flesh, anyhow. It couldn't even be said that the miserable inhabitants of the newly conquered planet Quex had anything to do with it. Unless they had somehow anticipated the drawn-out and ultimately fatal results of the air-borne mutagen that abounded bountifully in their atmosphere.

The meer virus that was bringing his race to its mighty knees, painfully.

He pressed the neon release button for the heavy panel half-heartedly. With a soft hiss it slid open, just wide enough for his lithe form to pass through. It alone seperated the sick-bay compartment and the large silver passageway to the main hall and docking bay.

"No, they don't deserve that kind of credit, " he thought bitterly on the latest slave-force to the Irken Empire. For such an inferiorly back-water planet, they HAD made an impressive display of resistance. What had the figures been, again? Seventy-three hundred, if he remembered correctly. Seventy-three hundred Irken soldiers lost. Not enough to even be considered a microscopic sliver in a pie graph of the Irken population. But not bad for the pathetic life forms on Quex. Not bad at all. And that was just the count for those lost on the planet's surface. In battle, that is. He didn't want to think of the toll this sickness had begun to and inevitably would bring. This...puny disease...

Sliding a sharp fingertip along the wall, he narrowed his eyes, forcing any feelings of hopelessness, and therefore treason to his empire, aside. Another soldier was being wheeled in by one not so better off than the current patient. Hopeful eyes flashed in his direction, taking in the unlined, two part uniform and lustrous deep-green eyes apprehensively, respectfully. It was a new experience entirely, yet a vastly recurring one. How long had it been since those ruby-tinted eyes had fixed upon him so disdainfully, mockingly? Since he was a meer communications drone, transferring messages from these so called superior ones to the Tallest? A month...maybe two. Now he had the chance to be a hero among his kind. Which way of life was better, he couldn't rightly say. And wouldn't.

He lowered his rare-hued gaze to the floor, wishing he could manage even a small smile of true hopefullness, perhaps even comfort. But he could no easier allow false hope to seep in their humbled direction then point at them and laugh like he had always dreamed of doing when his existence had...left something to be desired.

The two pairs of ruby eyes clouded somewhat, but their stature was that of their calling, of true soldiers, as they progressed to the sick-bay chambers.

To witness the tortutously slow deaths of themselves and others...

Grimacing at the ingrained mental image of the festering room, of Lett's pale face, of the two pairs of eyes depleted of hope, the emerald-eyed Irken quickened his pace to the docking bay.

He just hoped Earth's atmosphere harbored no such unfriendly toxins.

That it had the resources that would soon be needed if any form of an antidote was to be concocted. And that the last red-eyed Irken not affected, due to his misunderstood banishment and isolation, would be able to provide an old "friend" with much-needed support and aid.

Sen strapped himself into the pilot seat and lifted the steering console up to release the cruiser from the docking alcove. It hovered above the bead-light lined ramp for no more than a moment before speeding through the outer wall opening and into the cold sky, black except for the tunnel of stars streaking faintly past the dashboard. He typed in the coordinates of a planet that hadn't even been beleived to exist before not more than two years ago. Luckily, the Armada was currently only thirteen galaxies away from Zim's planet of tall, water-based creatures and dirt. The screen flashed blindingly and he shielded his eyes to see. Two months to arrival.

He strapped the sheer sanitary mask to his face. He couldn't take a chance that he might transmit the virus to Zim. No matter how much he might want to...No. There was no time for emotions now. No room for error.

The future of his race depended on it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------I promise more explanations in future chapters. Its meant to be like one of those infuriating movies that you want to pelt the wall with because you don't have a clue what's going on in the beginning...

I can't say how long it will be before I can update this one. It's already finished, and therefore a new chapter can be uploaded from disk in minutes, but access to a computer is hard to come by for me at the moment....blah bleh blah.. more exuses ...hee..yeah...but please feel free to tell me what you think :)