Eyes of Blight
Turbuggy 
Invader Zim
I really like this chapter! I enjoyed writing that last log specifically. They are... BONDING...
SEE MORE INFO
dib x zim
oc x oc
future setting
original characters
hurt/comfort
angst
fluff
Chapters: 11/?
Status: Abandoned
Chapter Four
“It is called MEDICINA. But i-it is… weeks away from your… planet.”
“Then I guess we don’t have any time to waste, do we?”
Convincing Zim to take Tak’s old Spittle Runner went far smoother than Dib had anticipated. The alien had started to protest, insisting that using stolen IRKEN property was against Invader regulation, but hadn’t gotten far. He found himself far too weak to put up much of a fuss, and only managed to wind himself. In the end, Dib laid Zim in the back of the old re-painted ship, bundled up in a few blankets, and climbed into the cockpit.
It had been a good, long while since the human had piloted this vessel. As his nemesis had begun to slow down, and his own life had continued forwards, he found that space battles and joyrides didn’t come around as often as they once had. Zim’s plans just weren’t as extravagant anymore, and most of the time, they could easily be thwarted from the safety of Earth. A lot of the time, Dib barely had to lift a finger for them to come crashing down. He had learned that Zim’s plans were often doomed to fail from the start, and his own interception did little in the long run.
Dib grasped the joystick-like controls, his hand flexing, recovering old muscle memory. Through the years, the boy had tinkered with the ship, learned about its ins and outs, learned to pilot it rather well. The on-board artificial Tak still spat its remarks, but it had become rather helpless to disobey. Tak wasn’t coming back for it. It would be sad, if the ship was programmed to feel.
Taking one more quick look back at the alien nestled safely in the back, Dib couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity that caused his chest to ache. How did this happen to you, Zim…?
“Just hang in there, Space Boy.” Dib told him, turning back to face the windscreen, “I’m gonna fix this.”
// TRANSLATED FROM ORIGINAL RECORDING… //
// LOG BEGIN… //
CAPTAIN’S LOG NUMBER ONE.
THIS IS DIB MEMBRANE, AGENT MOTHMAN OF THE SWOLLEN EYEBALL NETWORK. IT IS CURRENTLY 11:38PM ON THE THIRTEENTH OF APRIL BACK ON EARTH. I’M USING THE LOGGING SYSTEM HERE ON BOARD THE SHIP THAT I ACQUIRED FROM TAK IN ORDER TO KEEP SOME CAPTAIN’S LOGS. YOU KNOW, LIKE A RECORD OF MY JOURNEY AND ALL THAT.
RIGHT NOW, I’M ON COURSE TO AN IRKEN-OWNED PLANET CALLED “MEDICINA”. ACCORDING TO ZIM, IT’S A PLANET DEDICATED TO TREATING SICK ALIENS. MOSTLY OTHER IRKEN. NEITHER OF US ARE SURE IF ANYONE THERE WILL BE ABLE TO HELP HIM, BUT I’M HOLDING OUT HOPE THAT THERE MIGHT BE.
…EVEN THOUGH HIS LEADERS SAID WHATEVER HE’S GOT IS ‘INCURABLE.’
I’M NOT SURE HOW LONG THIS TRIP IS GOING TO TAKE, BUT THANKFULLY I ALWAYS KEEP THIS SHIP STOCKED WITH NON-PERISHABLES AND WATER. AS FOR A BATHROOM SITUATION, WELL… I DIDN’T THINK THAT FAR AHEAD. I’M SURE I’LL FIGURE SOMETHING OUT.
THANKFULLY, AFTER PUNCHING IN THE COORDINATES ZIM GAVE ME, I’VE BEEN ABLE TO LEAVE THE SHIP ON AUTO-PILOT, SO I CAN GO ABOUT DOING… WHATEVER I WANT TO, REALLY. I HAVEN’T GOTTEN BORED OF WATCHING THE STARS YET. I DON’T THINK I EVER WILL.
IT’S GETTING AWFULLY LATE, THOUGH, AND HONESTLY TODAY’S BEEN PRETTY WILD. I THINK I’M GOING TO TAKE A HINT FROM ZIM AND TRY TO GET SOME SHUTEYE. I’LL TRY AND MAKE CONTINUOUS LOGS WHILE I’M UP HERE. GIVE ME SOMETHING TO DO.
THIS HAS BEEN DIB MEMBRANE, AGENT MOTHMAN OF THE SWOLLEN EYEBALL NETWORK.
// LOG END… //
// TRANSLATED FROM ORIGINAL RECORDING… //
// LOG BEGIN… //
CAPTAIN’S LOG NUMBER TWO.
THIS IS DIB MEMBRANE, AGENT MOTHMAN OF THE SWOLLEN EYEBALL NETWORK. IT IS CURRENTLY 4:28AM ON THE FOURTEENTH OF APRIL BACK ON EARTH.
I’VE BEEN TRYING TO SLEEP OFF AND ON ALL NIGHT, BUT I’M FINDING IT PRETTY HARD TO GET MY MIND OFF OF EVERYTHING. IT’S SUPER QUIET HERE ON THE SHIP, AND I CAN HEAR ZIM WHEEZING IN THE BACK. I WISH I COULD… DO SOMETHING, YOU KNOW? I HATE FEELING SO STUPID AND HELPLESS. I DON’T EVEN UNDERSTAND WHY I’M FEELING THIS WAY AT ALL! I MEAN, I USED TO HATE ZIM! I MEAN— I DO HATE ZIM! HE’S AN ALIEN MENACE HELLBENT ON DESTROYING EARTH!
OR, Y’KNOW. HE WAS…
…FUCK, WHO AM I TRYING TO KID? I DON’T HATE ZIM. I WANT TO HATE ZIM, BUT… I DON’T THINK I’VE HATED HIM FOR YEARS.
YOU KNOW, WHEN I WAS A KID, THE ONLY THING I EVER WANTED WAS SOLID PROOF OF SOMETHING PARANORMAL. SOMETHING THAT WAS CONCRETE. SOMETHING THAT WOULD HELP ME TO FEEL THAT— THAT I WASN’T CRAZY. I HAD SEEN A LOT OF THINGS— THOUGHT I SAW A LOT OF THINGS— BUT I WAS NEVER… SURE.
BUT WHEN ZIM ARRIVED, IT TURNED INTO… PROVING MYSELF. I HAD TO MAKE EVERYONE BELIEVE THAT WHAT I WAS SAYING WAS TRUE! MAKE THEM BELIEVE I WASN’T JUST SOME NUTJOB THAT THEY COULD TOSS AROUND. I— I JUST WANTED SOMEONE TO BELIEVE IN ME.
I… GUESS WE HAD THAT IN COMMON. I THINK. ZIM WAS SO STRESSED OUT WHEN HIS LEADERS HUNG UP ON HIM, IT… HIT WAY TOO CLOSE TO HOME.
SO WHAT IF HE’S NOT AN INVADER? HE CAUSED AN AWFUL LOT OF CHAOS BACK ON EARTH! THAT’S GOT TO COUNT FOR SOMETHING, RIGHT? DOES HE REALLY DESERVE TO JUST… DIE?
…I’M GOING TO TRY AND GET SOME MORE SLEEP.
THIS HAS BEEN DIB MEMBRANE, AGENT MOTHMAN OF THE SWOLLEN EYEBALL NETWORK.
// LOG END… //
// TRANSLATED FROM ORIGINAL RECORDING… //
// LOG BEGIN… //
CAPTAIN’S LOG NUMBER THREE.
THIS IS DIB MEMBRANE, AGENT MOTHMAN OF THE SWOLLEN EYEBALL NETWORK. IT IS CURRENTLY 5:53PM ON THE FIFTEENTH OF APRIL BACK ON EARTH.
SPACE IS… WOW. IT’S… AMAZING. I MEAN, REALLY AMAZING. EVERY TIME I’VE EVER COME UP HERE, IT WAS ALWAYS FOR SOME DUMB BATTLE AGAINST ZIM. TENSION WAS ALWAYS HIGH, THERE WAS NEVER ANY TIME TO ACTUALLY LOOK AT ANYTHING. NOW, I’VE SEEN SO MANY STARS I FEEL LIKE I COULD RECREATE ONE MYSELF. WE AREN’T OUT OF OUR OWN GALAXY YET, BUT WE’VE PASSED SIX OUT OF OUR NINE PLANETS SO FAR— SIX! IN THREE DAYS! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?! ZIM WASN’T EXAGGERATING, IRKEN TECHNOLOGY REALLY IS SOMETHING…
AND ZIM… ZIM IS GETTING WORSE. HE HASN’T SAID MUCH OVER THE PAST FEW DAYS. DOESN’T HAVE A LOT OF ENERGY, I GUESS. HE’S CALLED ME A FEW NAMES, TOSSED A FEW INSULTS, BUT NOT MUCH ELSE. HE USUALLY JUST ENDS UP SLEEPING, OR JUST… LAYING THERE. THAT WHEEZING I WAS TALKING ABOUT IS GETTING WORSE, TOO. I’M KINDA WORRIED HE MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO BREATHE SOON. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO IF THAT HAPPENS?
I… I’VE BEEN FIGHTING ZIM FOR NINE YEARS NOW, AND MY END GOAL WAS ALWAYS TO CAPTURE HIM AND HAND HIM OVER TO THE SWOLLEN EYEBALL FOR AUTOPSY. BUT, SEEING HIM LAYING ON THE FLOOR OF HIS BASE, ALL WHITE AND SICKLY AND WEAK, AND AFTER LISTENING TO HIS LEADERS LAUGH IN HIS FACE AND LEAVE HIM FOR DEAD, I JUST… COULDN’T DO IT. I JUST COULDN’T. I NEED THIS STUPID ALIEN. I HATE IT, BUT I NEED HIM. HE’S THE ONLY THING I HAVE ON THIS SHITTY PLANET THAT ACTUALLY MOTIVATES ME ANYMORE.
ZIM WAS JUST SO… SMALL. WHEN I HELD HIM. HE HASN’T GROWN AT ALL SINCE I FIRST MET HIM, AND JUST… FITS IN MY ARMS LIKE A KID. CARRYING HIM FELT SO SURREAL, KNOWING WHAT HE’S CAPABLE OF. KNOWING I USED TO BE SO EVENLY MATCHED AGAINST HIM…
YOU KNOW, I’VE NEVER STOPPED TO ACTUALLY LOOK AT HIM BEFORE? I MEAN REALLY LOOK AT HIM. EVERY TIME I HAD EVER ENCOUNTERED HIM, I WAS ALWAYS IN SOME KIND OF FIGHT WITH THE GUY. NEVER REALLY HAD TIME TO STOP AND LOOK. AND EVEN WHEN I DID TRY AND GATHER DATA, GETTING CLOSE ENOUGH TO ZIM WAS NEXT TO IMPOSSIBLE. BUT AT MY HOUSE, HE WAS JUST… STILL. CALM AND QUIET. A-AND I WAS HOLDING HIM THE ENTIRE DRIVE BACK TO MY PLACE…
HIS SKIN IS REALLY SOFT. LIKE, SUPER SOFT. IT WAS ALSO PRETTY COLD, BUT I’M NOT REALLY SURE IF IT’S ALWAYS LIKE THAT. HE HASN’T BEEN ABLE TO STOP SHIVERING, SO HE MIGHT JUST HAVE CHILLS… HIS ANTENNAE HAVE THESE LITTLE HAIRS ON THEM, BUT THEY’RE NOT PRICKLY. THEY’RE ACTUALLY PRETTY SMOOTH, TOO. ARE THE HAIRS FOR SENSORY PURPOSES…?
[SHUFFLING]
[INDISTINGUISHABLE]
AH, I THINK ZIM’S WAKING UP. I SHOULDN’T BE TALKING SO MUCH WHILE HE’S TRYING TO SLEEP. I’M GOING TO END THIS LOG HERE.
THIS HAS BEEN DIB MEMBRANE, AGENT MOTHMAN OF THE SWOLLEN EYEBALL NETWORK.
// LOG END… //
// TRANSLATED FROM ORIGINAL RECORDING… //
// LOG BEGIN… //
CAPTAIN’S LOG NUMBER EIGHT.
THIS IS DIB MEMBRANE, AGENT MOTHMAN OF THE SWOLLEN EYEBALL NETWORK. IT IS CURRENTLY 9:17AM ON THE TWENTY THIRD OF APRIL BACK ON EARTH.
WE’VE BEEN TRAVELLING FOR ROUGHLY TEN DAYS NOW. I’M NOT SURE HOW LONG IT’S GOING TO TAKE TO GET TO MEDICINA, BUT I REMEMBER ZIM SAYING IT WAS WEEKS AWAY. I’M HOPING HE MEANT A ‘FEW WEEKS’ AND NOT… A LOT OF WEEKS. I’D PREFER NOT TO SPEND THE REST OF MY YOUNG ADULT LIFE STUCK IN THIS CRAMPED SPITTLE RUNNER. I DIDN’T TELL MY DAD I WAS LEAVING, EITHER… OH BOY.
…AND I’M NOT SURE HOW MUCH TIME ZIM HAS LEFT.
I’M… STARTING TO GET REALLY WORRIED ABOUT HIM. THINGS JUST KEEP GETTING WORSE. HE’S GONE REALLY QUIET, EXCEPT FOR THE WHEEZING I MENTIONED. EVERY TIME I LOOK BACK AT HIM, HE’S CURLED UP IN A LITTLE BALL SHAKING LIKE HELL. NO MATTER WHAT I SAY TO HIM, HE EITHER DOESN’T REPLY OR JUST MUMBLES SOME DOCILE ANSWER IN THIS HORRIBLE, PAINFUL-SOUNDING VOICE. DOESN’T EVEN TRY TO INSULT ME ANYMORE. IT’S NOT… RIGHT!
[SHUFFLING]
[INDISTINGUISHABLE]
I THINK HE’S HAVING PRETTY SEVERE ABDOMINAL PAIN, TOO. HE KEEPS CLUTCHING HIS STOMACH AND DIGGING HIS CLAWS IN. I’M NOT USED TO SEEING HIM GRIMACE THE WAY HE HAS BEEN, AND HIS PITIFUL WHIMPERING SOUNDS MAKE ME FEEL SICK. … I DON’T LIKE LOOKING BACK THERE ANYMORE.
I’M HONESTLY COMPLETELY FREAKING OUT. I’M AFRAID THAT ZIM ISN’T GOING TO LAST MUCH LONGER. WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO IF HE… DIES… BEFORE WE EVEN REACH THE MEDICAL PLANET? I JUST… WISH I COULD DO SOMETHING! I HATE BEING SO STUPID AND USELESS! I JUST HAVE TO SIT BACK AND… LET HIM SUFFER!
GOD, ZIM. WHY COULDN’T YOU HAVE JUST KEPT ON BEING A LITTLE MENACE? WHY COULDN’T WE HAVE JUST KEPT FIGHTING LIKE WHEN WE WERE KIDS? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO DO THIS? WHY DID YOU HAVE TO MAKE ME CARE ABOUT YOU?!
[SHUFFLING]
QUIIEEET…
OKAY, OKAY. I’M DONE, ZIM, I’M DONE. I WAS JUST, UH… TALKING TO MYSELF.
[INDISTINGUISHABLE]
TAKE IT EASY, SPACE BOY. GO BACK TO SLEEP.
[INDISTINGUISHABLE]
H-HEY, YOU OKAY BACK THERE?
ZIM?
PAAAIIIN… PAAIIN…
I… I KNOW, BUD. YOUR STOMAC— UH… SQUEEDILYSPOOCH HURTS?
[INDISTINGUISHABLE]
OKAY, JUST… TRY AND TAKE IT EASY.
[INDISTINGUISHABLE]
WANT TO COME UP HERE WITH ME FOR A BIT?
HUUURTSS…
COME UP HERE, ZIM.
C’MON, THERE WE GO.
// LOG END… //
Dib had never been so frightened in his entire life. As Zim’s health deteriorated, so did the human’s certainty. He was so sure that any day now, Zim would simply drift back to sleep, and never wake up. The little alien had begun to let the boy hold him, his pride a long forgotten memory. He would press his face against Dib’s chest, as if desperately seeking warmth. His skin was frigid to the touch, and Dib kept the blankets wrapped tightly around the IRKEN’s tiny body in a vain attempt to quell his violent shivering. He kept promising that they would get there soon, that everything would be fine once they did. He didn’t know if he was trying to reassure Zim, or himself. Either way, it wasn’t working.
Nearly four weeks passed before the first neon sign glinted off of Dib’s glasses, waking him from a shallow sleep. He blinked in the light, grumbling and sitting up a little. Zim was nestled in the human’s arms; something that had become rather common for the two during their journey. The alien’s white antennae twitched, and he grimaced, but made no other sound.
“Wha…” Dib rubbed his eyes, before taking another look.
A bright red planet stood before them, its surface full of the clutter that had become a staple of IRKEN-owned worlds. Scattered buildings and more loud neon signs could be seen from miles away, and ships of all sizes bustled about the place. Its two moons had been converted into nothing more than places to anchor two oversized arrows, pointing travellers towards their destination. Even though all of the bold, blinking letters were in proud IRKEN DOOM, the symbol that littered the signs was enough to fill the boy with a renewed excitement; a triangular representation of an IRKEN’s face, with a circle cut out of its middle. Positioned inside the circular void, was a medical cross.
“ZIM!” he exclaimed, sitting up straight, “Zim, we’re here! Do you see?!”
Dib tried to turn the alien’s attention towards the windscreen, as the ship’s autopilot carried them closer to the medical planet. Zim, however, did not respond. He simply continued to wheeze, and to shiver. The boy frowned, looking up once more at the planet’s crimson surface. It felt so close, and yet so painfully far away.
A hand grabbed the Spittle Runner’s controls, slamming them forwards with possibly a little more force than was needed.
“Easy on the hardware, you absolute barbarian!” Tak’s voice hissed through the ship’s speakers. But Dib had no time to banter with his snarky stolen property. He was too busy accelerating, plunging the little ship through the planet’s atmosphere. He needed to find someone, anyone who could cure Zim, and he couldn’t waste a second more.
“Welcome to MEDICINA. I do hope you both die. Sincerely.”
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