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VINDICATION	By : Florville Category: +G through L > Invader Zim > AU/AR-Alternate Universe-Alternate Reality Views: 29601 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Invader Zim, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 71: Truth Hurts

Purple looked at the operating table nervously, then back at Zim, then around at the Medical Officers. He looked at Zim again, his antennae lowering fearfully against his head.

“C-can’t I just resign or something?”

Zim sighed, waving to the Medical Officers, the two guards, and finally Dib. “Give us a few minutes.”

Dib frowned, leaning forward. “Zim, just put him under sedation already. Let’s get this over with.”

“Out, Dib.” Zim said firmly. “He was my ruler once, not yours.”

Sighing, Dib shook his head and left the room.

Once he was alone with Purple, Zim sat down on a nearby chair. “Purple, both of us know that the Empire doesn’t work that way.”

The violet-eyed Irken wrung his hands. “I know…but…I mean, really, is there no other way?”

Zim sighed, shaking his head. “If there was, don’t you think I would’ve found it?”

Purple winced, pacing anxiously. “But…but what if there are…side effects? What if it’s really painful? I mean, I really don’t like pain. It…it won’t be painful, will it?”

Purple’s anxiety made Zim feel slightly guilty, but he was determined. “It shouldn’t be.”

The taller Irken wrapped his arms around himself, cringing. “I really don’t want to do this.”

Zim stood, walking over to his former leader. “I know. Neither do I, really, but I don’t have much choice.”

Pur frowned. “Do you really have to be Tallest? I mean, can’t Red and I just…I dunno…make you an Advisor or something?”

Zim smiled ruefully. “No, Purple. I am in command of the ship now, and I am going to bring glory to our Empire.”

The violet-eyed Irken sighed, wringing his hands again, saying nothing.

For a long moment, Zim felt the silence wrap around them. Before him stood his former leader, an Irken he had once admired and followed in blind faith, revered and even worshipped, in a way. Reaching up, Zim placed a hand on Purple’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

“I’m going to make sure you’re taken care of, my Tallest.” Zim murmured, pressing a gentle kiss against Purple’s forehead as his other hand slipped around him, issuing the sedative. He caught Purple as the taller Irken slumped against him, and carefully laid him on the operating table, removing Purple’s robes and rolling him gently onto his stomach so that his bare back was exposed. Zim pulled a sheet from one of the shelves, unfolding it and placing it over his former leader, covering him up to his hips. Sighing sadly, he shook his head and went to the door, where the Medical Officers, the two guards, and Dib were waiting, discussing the Vortian scientists on board and what could be done with them.

“He’s ready.” Zim said flatly, walking past the group. “I’ll be in my quarters.”

Dib frowned, watching as Zim walked away, debating on whether or not to follow him. But there had been something in Zim’s eyes, something in his voice, which told Dib that his lover needed to be alone for a little while. He sighed, shaking his head. He truly loved Zim, but he refused to feel any sympathy for his former leaders. He’d seen a lot of the things Zim had endured at the mercy of the Tallests, and it had never really sat right with him. Shaking his head, Dib walked into the sick bay with the Medical Officers to watch the surgery.

*

A few hours later, Dib entered the Tallest Suite, approaching Zim, who was sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard, a champagne flute filled with dark liquid in one of his gloved hands.

“How is he?” Zim asked softly.

“Fine.” Dib shrugged. “He’s still out, but the surgery was a success. The Medical Officers are saying that if they put his pak back on him and keep him under sedation, he’ll heal in a couple days’ time, with no shock to his system. But they need your authorization for that. They paged your communicator a few times, but there was no answer…”

“I turned it off.” Zim muttered, taking a long pull from his drink and setting the flute aside, sitting up.

Dib eyed the flute suspiciously. “What is that?”

Zim sighed. “Irken wine. Very, very strong, but not the most palatable thing in our society.”

“How much have you had?”

Smiling ruefully, Zim set the half-empty glass aside. “Just this one.”

Dib walked over and sat down next to Zim on the bed. “Are you okay?”

Zim sighed heavily, his face falling. “No…I just…I can’t help but feel like I’ve betrayed them. It doesn’t bother me that I betrayed Red, but Purple…well, he’s not really as detestable.”

“Don’t feel guilty about it, Zim.” Dib spoke firmly and solemnly. “We both knew it might come to this. You are going to rule the Empire, and nothing will stop you. Right?”

Zim lifted his head, a familiar light glinting in his eyes. “Yes…”

Dib grinned. “Now…speaking of Red…”

Zim scowled. “I don’t want to kill him.”

“Then don’t.”

Zim frowned. “What?” As he held Dib’s gaze, a smile crept slowly across his face. “Ohhh, Dib-worm…have I told you that I’m beginning to like the way your brain-meats work?”

Dib shrugged. “No thanks are necessary. But you might want to get back to the Medical Officers and let them know about Purple’s pak.”

*

The next day, Zim walked into the sick bay, walking up to Purple’s bedside and inspecting his body, ensuring that everything was healing properly and then nodding in approval. He approached another bed, inspecting the second occupant and nodding again. “You can put the pak on him tomorrow. I want him to wear the scars for the remainder of his days as payment for his cruelty.” Zim growled. “And keep him under heavy sedation until we reach Irk. I don’t have the patience to put up with his insubordination.”

“Yes, my Tallest.” The Medical Officers saluted.

Meanwhile, Dib had another section of the lab set aside, heavily soundproofed and monitored by a few separate cameras. Two Medical Officers flanked him, intending to learn from the experiments Zim’s human wished to perform.

Dib leaned back against the Irken equivalent of an autopsy table, where a temporarily sedated Hugin was strapped, conferring with the two Irken Medical Officers.

“So I think our goal for this one should be to try different formulas in an attempt to create a truth serum that will be effective on their race. Do Vortians have similarities to any other races you’ve studied or come into contact with?”

“The Screw Heads, but the similarity is only in their basic internal structure, and not much testing has been done on them, because they’re actually quite simple in terms of intelligence,” one of the Medical Officers volunteered.

Dib nodded slowly, then smiled, shrugging. “Oh well! Let’s start with what we know. What truth serums do you already have on hand that have been proven to be effective?”

Several vials were procured, labeled in Irken and filled with different coloured liquids.

“Planet Jackers, Nhar-Gh'ok, Hobos, and Blobs. These are the only truth serums that have been perfected and utilized for information retrieval.”

Dib nodded. “Great. Let’s start with the Planet Jacker formula, and see how it influences our subject.” Taking the vial, Dib inspected the contents, swirling them around. “How is it usually administered?”

“Orally.”

Dib nodded. “Well, then, I guess we’ll have to wake him up.” Picking up an Irken blade, somewhat akin to a scalpel, but with a finer edge, Dib stabbed it through one of Hugin’s hands, grinning when the Vortian jerked into wakefulness, yowling and straining at his bonds. “Good morning, Hugin! Long time no see!” He laughed, twisting the blade roughly.

The Medical Officers looked at each other, faint grins on their faces.

Hugin growled and pulled at his bonds. “Bastard monitor…”

“Oh, now you’ve gone and hurt my feelings.” Dib snickered, wrenching the blade out and wiping the blood off on the black labcoat the Irkens had provided him with. “And I was actually going to do this quickly. What a shame.” He took the vial, opening it carefully and grabbing the Vortian’s jaw, forcing it open and pouring the liquid into his mouth. “Open wide.” He cooed, his amber eyes narrowed and sparkling with sadistic glee.

Hugin coughed and spat, unable to stop most of the liquid from going down his throat. Scowling, he spat at Dib, hitting him in the shoulder.

Dib clucked his tongue, taking a cloth out of his pocket and wiping the saliva off. “You’re a fighter. Good. I like that in a test subject. Makes it more fun.” He grinned maliciously. “So, Officers, we’ve given him the first formula. Let’s hook up the machines and ask him some questions!”

The Medical Officers nodded, pulling out coils of wires, hooking them onto different parts of Hugin’s head, two to his throat, and two to his hands.

“Now, we’re doing a little experiment, to see what it takes to make a Vortian tell the truth.” Dib explained with the detachment of a documentary narrator. Turning, he grinned and leaned forward, folding his hands behind his back as he purred into Hugin’s face. “Let’s start with a simple question. What was your partner’s name? Your dead partner, I mean.” He sneered.

Hugin just scowled, remaining silent.

“It won’t do you any good to be close-mouthed, Hugin. What was your partner’s name? You should tell me. We don’t want this to get unpleasant, now, do we?”

The Vortian hissed and spat at him again, hitting Dib in the face.

Frowning, Dib wiped the saliva off with the back of his hand. The Medical Officers scowled.

“I don’t think that was the answer we were looking for, Officers.” Dib picked up a larger blade from a nearby table, inspecting it for a moment before bringing it over to the autopsy table. “Now, I’ve heard these grow back.” Dib said flatly as he began to cut through one of Hugin’s horn-things, ignoring his agonized screaming. Once the appendage had been removed, Dib inspected it idly, then handed it to one of the Medical Officers, who set it aside. “But I’m going to see what it takes for them to NOT grow back. Officers, can we get a scanner here? I want to see just where the horn emerges from the skull.”

“MUNIN!!” Hugin wailed, shaking in his bonds.

Dib nodded, inspecting the information screens, noting that there was no change in the flow of the data lines. “Hmm, looks like that serum is completely ineffective. All right then, while that serum is working it’s way out of his system, let’s get the scanner, shall we?”

“What?!” Hugin balked at him.

“You didn’t honestly think your answer would deter my curiousity, did you?” Dib laughed mockingly, then leaned forward. “Hugin, your nightmare is only beginning. You shouldn’t have tampered with me.”

*

Dib flopped onto the bed with a yawn, naked, not having bothered to dress again after his long gel bath, during which he removed the dried Vortian blood from his skin and hair. He snuggled up to Zim, purring low in his throat.

Zim stirred, opening one eye and smiling drowsily. “You look like you had fun.”

Snickering, Dib nodded. “I’ve decided that information retrieval is a very satisfying pastime. So far we’ve eliminated two of the serums from the list, we’ve completely amputated one of his horn-thingies, and tomorrow we’re going to test the two remaining serums to see which one has the most effect on him.”

“Serums?”

“Truth serums. I remember you mentioning that there was no really effective Vortian truth serum, so I figured we may as well try to make one while I’m torturing the little bastard.”

Zim grinned, uttering a low growl. “I enjoy this side of you.” He leaned forward and kissed Dib roughly, then lifted his head. “You have the ruthless hunger of an Invader.”

Dib felt his cheeks warm at the compliment. “Thanks. That…means a lot to me, Zim. Really.”

“I think I might delay the Medical Officers putting Red’s pak on by one more day.”

“Ooh, you’re cruel, Zim.” Dib snickered, then kissed his lover deeply, slipping his arms around him and rubbing the bases of Zim’s antennae between his fingertips, then sliding them all the way down and pinching the ends lightly.

Zim groaned, arching against him.

“So how much longer until we get to Irk?” Dib murmured, sucking on Zim’s throat.

“Two weeks.” Zim breathed, his member starting to slide out, pressing insistently against the inside of his sleep-pants.

“Mmm, I can’t wait.” Dib purred, sliding the garment down over Zim’s legs, letting his lover’s shaft spring free and press against his own. “I’ve been meaning to ask, though…why did you bring Tak on board?”

Zim groaned, rubbing against him. “Because…there’s a joint of contention between her and I…that I wish to settle.”

Dib chuckled. “You mean a bone of contention.”

Zim snorted. “Whatever.” He rolled on top of Dib, kissing him deeply as they coupled once more.
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VINDICATION