AU When the Irkens start exporting dangerous goods outside of known Irken space, the R.E.S.I.S.T.Y. decided to take a look, hoping to expose something they can use to finally end the Irken Menace. But what lies out in the farthest corners of space? And could it really help the rebel cause?

Deep in the fringes of the Gamma quadrant of Irken known space was a space ship of modest make and design.

The location of the ship was significant, because the Gamma quadrant was a vast quadrant harboring mainly empty or gaseous planets and few trade centers. It was an area popular amongst pirates, refugees and generally unsavory sorts – and that was within Vortian known space. Due to their exploratory and conquesting nature, the Gamma quadrant of Irkenknown space boasted an additional two hundred light years but was just as barren as it's Vortian counterpart. In fact, no one explored the far reaches of the Gamma quadrant because it was the general consensus of intelligent life forms everywhere that there was nothing of value past the few trade centers and habitable planets.

This ship had passed all of those things by at least a hundred light years.

Maybe the ship's location wouldn't be so peculiar if it was of the make of intergalactic explorers, like the Planet Jackers, which brought up another peculiar thing about this vessel.

It was of Vortian design.

Anyone who knew even the basics of Intergalactic History knew that all Vortian ships had been confiscated and dismembered after the Armada had 'acquired' Vort. It was highly illegal to even harbor the parts of Vortian vessels, unless explicit permission had been given. Those who had the permission were easily identifiable from those who didn't because they were stamped with the Irken symbol and typically used as prison transport vehicles.

Yet again, this particular ship surprised; it had no visible Irken symbol and therefore everyone within it knew they were in possession of a highly illegal vessel. It could only be assumed that the crewmembers were no friend to the Armada.

Some might even call them traitors.

Not that such a name would do anything but delight the ship's Captain.

In fact, he preferred the term 'rebel'.

Like all Vortian ships, the main command center of the ship was a large room with ceiling approximately thirty feet high. The high ceiling allowed there to be a stair like structure inside, dividing the bridge into three effective levels. Level one contained important, but non-essential staff to remain on the bridge. A good deal of the space on the lower level was dedicated to communication and science officers; even a few security officers and engineers. The space was wide and open enough that, if needed, as many as twenty active officers could aid the ship in defense, scanning, precision moves and a multitude of other functions that, while important, amounted to the bells and whistles when running the ship.

The next second level contained all essential staff, mainly the navigators, and a huge, 'U' shaped control board took up most of the space. Naturally, it was the helm that controlled all navigation and steering.

Finally, the top level contained the Captain himself. This way, the Captain could oversee all his subordinates and make suggestions when necessary without having to walk around the large bridge. It also helped that his chair was connected to a robotic arm that, if his chose, could carry him around virtually all the space within the bridge.

Currently the Captain, a Vortian of average and unremarkable size, was sitting in said chair in a leisurely pose that somehow still conveyed authority. Perhaps it was the way he slouched only just so to the left side of the chair; his left arm propped up under his chin while his right arm draped carelessly off the other armrest. Maybe it was the way his legs, reminiscent of a goat, were crossed at the legs or the way his head was tilted, just so, which somehow accentuated the ivory, semi-flexible horns atop his head.

Regardless of why the relaxed pose conveyed authority, it was hardly an inspired idea that the Captain in question was Vortian, given the nature of his vessel. His large, olive green eyes seemed almost bulbous beneath his goggles and stood in stark contrast against his waxen skin.

No one could claim Lard Nar, Captain of the Resistance for Exiles Seeking the Intergalactic Salvation of Terrestrial Youth (R.E.S.I.S.T.Y for short), was anything less than a formidable commander. He led his people, and the movement they created, the same way a sailor might lead his ship from a storm. While others preoccupied themselves with escaping or fighting the gales and eventually sunk, he placed his fate in to Mother Nature's capable hands and was inevitably brought to the locus.

It was for this reason the Captain didn't hesitate when faced the next obstacle hindering his exploration of the Gamma Quadrant.

The ship had come to a small asteroid belt and, while not threatening to the ship, the maneuvers required to navigate the field would require the crew to either take turbulence or reduce speed. Before the helmsman could ask his superior for directions, the Vortian addressed him, "Lt. Spleenk." He said in a quiet, powerful voice, "Steady as she goes."

Spleenk nodded confirmation and his four tawny arms went to work at the helm reducing speed and preparing to maneuver the belt. He was Dleekan, and like all males of his species had a lilac circle in the center of his forehead (because crimson was for girls), had little nubs on the top back of his skull similar to bunny ears and sported a breathing apparatus that hung from his lips and connected to a methane tank strapped to his back.

The ship quieted with a tense silence, not because anyone was worried about the dangers of the belt but because it required concentration to maneuver.

At that precise moment, however, a shrill, rather obnoxious cry cut across the ship. "WHERE IS HE?!" The voice demanded with such ferocity Lt. Spleenk suffered a minor heart palpitation and very nearly hit a small asteroid.

The Captain frowned.

He'd hoped to put off this encounter a little longer.

Whoever it was could be heard storming down the hallway to the lower level of the bridge. Several ensigns assigned to that area had stopped working to glance at each other and the door in infrequent, worried intervals.

Suddenly, the doors to the lower level flew open with such tremendous force it, for a moment, seemed to have spontaneously combusted.

The whole bridge, previously silent, began to resound with it's booming echo and a figure appeared from the gloom of the hallway.

In the doorway stood an Irken of above average height. His gloved arms were planted furiously on his hips and his large, ruby eyes seemed to glow with pure, undiluted rage. His antennae lay flush atop his head and the depth of their blackness seemed to only bring out the brilliant green of his skin.

At his appearance, absolutely everyone who had been looking at the door spontaneously decided they were overwhelmed with work and practically fused to their stations. No one dared meet the Irken's sweeping, accusatory gaze.

The Captain, who couldn't see the intruding Irken from within the door jam, seemed to innately know who had just barged in. "Commander Zim." He said in that calm, strong voice of his, "Whatever has gotten you so riled up?"

"DON'T ACT INNOCENT WITH ME!" The Irken practically flew into the room and stared defiantly up the two remaining levels separating them, his eyes ablaze. Within half a second, his PAK legs sprouted from the capsule on his back and he climbed up to the third tier where the Vortian sat.

Lard Nar found himself idly wondering if Zim had purposefully entered the first floor of the bridge, despite surely knowing the Captain would be on the third. Perhaps in order to make an even bigger spectacle of himself? Was he making a point?

Or an entrance?

Zim seemed to have no qualms getting right into his Captain's face and he marched right up to Lard Nar, leveling him with his best stare.

Despite the uncomfortably close proximity Zim had placed, the Vortian didn't flinch or hesitate, "Can I help you?" He asked in the supremely polite tone people used when they knew they could help but had yet decided if they actually would.

Zim snarled, an angry purple flush rising to his cheeks where his blood pooled. "Explain to me, Lard Nar, sir," He spat, "Why despite my warnings, we are approaching the proverbial edge of the Gamma quadrant."

Lard Nar took half a second to ponder his Commander's question before he spoke, "While I understand your concerns, I have decided to proceed."

"Under- understand my concerns?!" Zim seemed flabbergasted, "Captain, it is not simply my amazing concerns you must understand!" He growled and pulled a star chart out of seemingly nowhere to thrust at the Captain's face. "Have you even read the report I sent your data pad?! Do you understand the facts as well?!" He dropped his voice to a furious whisper so only Lar Nar could hear him. "As per the research you asked for and, for unknown reasons, have clearly forgotten to read, the mighty Zim must point out a severe problem in your little plan." The map, which Lard Nar had opened for curiosity's sake, now suffered a series of furious jabs as Zim pointed out several red marks all along the expanse of stars they were currently crossing. He explained, "Armada activity in this area has not only increased but several ships have gone missing within the last week." He again hit the red marks to further emphasize his point. Apparently they were all where ships had disappeared. "Do you honestly intend to still take us out there?"

Lard Nar sighed, "I absolutely do, Commander."

"Why is Zim surprised? Of course you wish to test your might while we are hopelessly understaffed. Why would you not desire to embark on a suicidal mission into uncharted territory where people, shipments of highly volatile chemicals and Irken military equipment are constantly disappearing!" He hissed, furious.

Lard Nar smiled quietly, "Sarcasm is unbecoming on you Commander."

Zim threw his head towards the ceiling in an over exaggerated, all consuming eye roll, frustration clearly evident. "Captain, it is obviously crawling with the enemy. Tallest," he cursed, "It could even be the Massive out there! The problem is we don't know. We have no knowledge of what is undeniably a very dangerous area out in uncharted space. No one's coming for us if we get into trouble."

The Vortian's small smile suddenly broke in a wide, mischievous way, "Why Commander, I wasn't aware anyone would come for us anywhere. Don't tell me you're scared?" Zim visibly bristled.

His PAK made a whirling noise that Lard Nar recognized indicating the Irken was pulling up some file and was about to read those facts, verbatim, to add to his argument.

The Captain didn't need to hear the statistics again; he already knew what Zim would say.

No less than thirty ships disappeared from the fringes of the Gamma quadrant this past year alone. At least a dozen freighters of machinery, weapons, and other unknown supplies would leave Vort every six months and disappear in this region, almost as if it had purposefully shipped here. Finally, and this piece of information the Irken didn't know because Lard Nar had hire an informant to do some digging, once in a blue moon a single ship would leave from the area. His informant had actually managed to get him a small piece of that shipment.

In the vastness of the Gamma quadrant, this type of activity might seem innocuous at first glance but the Vortian and his Irken Commander had spent the last few years piecing together a pattern.

The trail ended here, at the very end of known explored space, and the only way to learn more would be to follow the trail.

There was nothing more to be learnt on this side of the invisible divider.

They had to cross.

"Hush." Lard Nar silenced Zim with a quick wave of his hand. He then interlaced his fingers, resting just enough of his head on the appendages to obscure his mouth. It was a contemplative gesture and one considered polite on Vort when speaking your mind. "You know I value your input, Zim." The Vortian began; Zim gave a curt nod, for he knew he had very valuable things to say. "However, this time I believe I will defer to my own judgment."

Had this conversation come five years ago, when they had first met, Zim might have raged at the Vortian's impudence, arrogance or pigheaded-ness. Having known the Captain for years however, Zim was less offended and more expecting it.

Lard Nar was a very tactical person who, on rare occasions, could even school the mighty Zim with his plans. So the Irken decided he would only listen politely, as is Vortian custom, to his Captain before he decided whether or not the proposed plan would merit his corrections.

"Sir." Zim said, schooling his form into parade rest; he knew the Vortian would wish to discuss this further in private. It wouldn't help crew morale if they heard any more bickering. A decision needed to be made.

"Lt. Spleenk, you have the conn." Lard Nar announced. The tawny Dleekan spun around a little too quickly in his swivel chair and continued to rotate in circles as he gave a thumbs up in acknowledgement.

Satisfied, yet vaguely annoyed by the display, Lard Nar rose fluidly from his Captain's chair, his hoofed feet making a little 'click' as he made contact with the ground. Zim did not need permission to know to follow him off the bridge and into a small hallway that lead to both the turbo lift and the Ready Room.

The Ready Room, situated to the left of the corridor, was a place the Captain took his top officials to discuss courses of action, particularly during combat, when one of the other conference rooms aboard the ship would be too far to feasibly use in time. Plain and simple, it was a soundproof conference room, exclusive to the Captain and his higher officers. Lard Nar had a habit of using it as a makeshift office, where he would evaluate crewmen who needed it and prepare propaganda, paperwork or other things to aid in the war effort. This way, he was always a convenient half-minute walk and ten second sprint away from taking command of his vessel if an emergency ever forced him back to the bridge.

When they entered the room, as usual, all but two seats had been retracted into the wall. The seats sat on either end of the huge conference table that was, predictably, covered in the Vortian's plans. A large map covered most of the table, and several data chips lie stacked in a neat little pile to the right. Zim recognized the map as the far corner of the Gamma quadrant – a place he was determined to persuade his Captain to abandon. He would have to wait and see if he would be victorious.

"Commander." Lard Nar fixed his bright golden eyes on his Irken counterpart and gestured to one of the chairs. It was the smaller of the two and resembled the type of chairs that might be seen in a business tycoon's office while he was conducting interviews.

Zim inclined his head a respectful degree. He knew that, because of the use of his title instead of his name, Lard Nar planned this conversation to be a professional one. Maybe he wished to avoid another open conversation like the one on bridge minutes earlier.

Zim forced himself to unclench his fists, recognizing the gesture for what it was. It was a challenge. Zim would be unable to full second guess his Captain unless it officially became and informal conversation. Otherwise, the Irken would appear mutinous and would be forced to follow Lard Nar's plan purely to prove he was not.

Either way, the conversation would play into the Captain's hands.

Clever.

Apparently the Vortian knew the Irken would not take kindly to whatever his news was – Zim tried to suppress an irritated sound as he plopped; professionally, yet distinctly annoyed, into his seat.

All he had to do was get Lard Nar to say his name, without his title, and this conversation would become informal. That shouldn't be too hard.

"Captain." Zim practically purred and gestured to the other, larger chair. He tried not to sound overtly sarcastic.

Lard Nar rolled his eyes and took his seat. "I formally request that this meeting be informal in nature." The Irken declared causing his Vortian counterpart to exhale a rather large gulp of air that seemed suspiciously like a sigh.

"Request denied, Commander." The Vortian replied, "Will you at least listen to my reasoning before you try and tell me how stupid you think it is?"

"Seeing as this is a formal meeting, Captain," The Irken hissed out the title in a vaguely insubordinate way, trying to annoy him into saying his name. Lard Nar liked to de-title people when they annoyed him. "Zim will not be able to express his amazing opinions unless you ask for them."

"Small favors." Lard Nar muttered, quelling the urge to yet again roll his eyes.

Zim decided it best to pretend he didn't hear him. Instead he turned his attention to the map, about to ask a question about the post-it note containing a circle that read 'planet?' stuck to the far corner of the map. Before he could ask, however, something white inside a plastic bag piled amongst the data chips caught his eye. There was something about it that made Zim's greedy Irken instincts want to claim it.

"What's that?" He asked, curious.

"Hmm. I thought it might be the real stuff." Lard Nar mused, watching the way Zim's antennae twitched in anticipation.

"What's real, my Captain?" Zim asked, genuinely curious and no longer sarcastic.

"Sugar." The Vortian took the bag, emptied it upon the table and interlocked his fingers, carefully watching Zim from beneath his goggles.

Zim barely heard him. As soon as the bag opened, the Irken was assaulted with a sweet aroma so tantalizing he had to literally grab hold of his chair's armrests to prevent himself from jumping on the little mound of white powder. His claws dug deeply into the fabric of the chair and he tried not to inhale the delicious scent too deeply when he asked, "Why-? No." He amended, "How exactly did you get your hands on pure… refined… natural…" The Irken shook his head, the mere description of the sugar making his body itch with want. He had to pause and take a soft gasp of breath through his mouth so his antenna could not pick up even more of the treacherous scent. Luckily, Zim didn't need to finish painstakingly arranging a question because Lard Nar, who seemed amused by his Commander's struggle to remain in control, chuckled and said, "It's fine Commander. You can have it."

He knew full well trying to talk to an Irken with sugar in front of it was a cruel and useless move – Zim wouldn't be listening to a word he said.

Zim tried not to look too pathetic when he asked, "Are you certain, my Captain?"

Lard Nar chuckled again at the Irken's rather desperate expression, "Yeah it's fine. I just wanted someone to make sure it's the real stuff and since you're our resident expert…" He trailed off, watching the way Zim's antenna danced atop his head, taking in the sugar's scent. "You can really tell that it's natural refined sugar by smell alone?"

"Captain." Zim said, a little too seriously, sitting straight in his seat. "Since the extinction of our own natural sugar eons ago, it has become every Irken's dream to taste the sweet, sweet natural phenomena at least once in their life time. Of course I can tell the difference by smell alone!"

"Ok, ok I get it. I won't torture you any more, I said you can have it." Lard Nar said with a wave of his hand; dismissive, as if he had not just given Zim the second greatest gift he could ever bestow on an Irken (The first being a chance at conquest).

Zim tried not to sound too grateful as he thanked him, repeatedly, and practically began inhaling it.

Lard Nar stood from his seat and paced. "I had hoped that it wasn't real sugar when I first saw it. One of our contacts intercepted this from an Irken trade vessel coming out of the Gamma quadrant. To be precise, from here." Lard Nar jumped back into his seat and pointed triumphantly at a section on the map. It was about two inches from where the post-it note was taped to the map.

"Let me guess." Zim replied, licking his fingers rather shamelessly, "You think it's coming from the sticky note."

"Not the note- it-"

"Zim was joking." The Irken interrupted with a roll of his eyes. Geez, you have a vaguely psychotic episode one time and they never let you live it down. "You actually believe there to be a planet on the fringe of Gamma space and you believe that is where the sugar came from." He stated, watching his commanding officer with curious eyes.

"Yes." Lard Nar said, sitting fully in his seat, excitement turning to something more serious. "I have reason to believe there to be a great deal more of it under Irken control. I shouldn't have to explain to you of all people why this is a problem."

"Problem? You mean besides the fact I could gladly sustain myself on this tiny ounce of sugar you gave me for at least week? How could that ever be a problem?" Zim asked innocently, clearly enjoying the way his Captain twitched with irritation.

"Zim be serious." Lard Nar replied testily. "You know that if the Armada gets their grubby claws on this type of resource we can kiss the rest of the free galaxy goodbye."

Zim's antennae had perked up at the mention of his name. He purposefully ignored the Vortian's comment and instead asked, "Is your use of my name a deferment to an informal discussion, Captain?"

Lard Nar paused, realized his rare slip up and grit his teeth. He knew Zim, by Vortian diplomatic laws, now had a perfectly proper reason not to participate in the formal conversation because Lard Nar had just accidentally named him. And Zim knew it too.

"Fine." He ground out, clearly annoyed, "Informal discussion granted."

"Good." Zim smiled rather serenely and licked the last of the sugar off his fingers. Then, with great flourish, he jumped to his feet with an insane shout. He jabbed a claw accusingly at his Captain. "Have you lost your filthy Vortian mind?!" Lard Nar sighed and slumped in his chair, resigning himself to the terrible rant he was trying to avoid. "You just found out that, on top of the strange disappearances, highly volatile military grade chemicals and advanced weaponry emanating from that section of space, that sugar, PURE sugar is also coming out. And your plan is to go in there!?" He pounded a claw onto the table with an ominous thud, "How can I get it into your empty, fluff filled head-cavity that this is completely insane, even by the amazing standards of me, Zim! We are understaffed, un-supported and unprotected. Our lasers and warp drive are offline. You bring us into that section of space, Lard Nar and it's as good as suicide."

"Acknowledged Zim. I never said it was the smartest plan, but it's the necessary one." The Vortian countered with a grim determination about him.

"HOW?!" Zim pounded at the conference table with his fist, "How could this possibly be a necessary move?" He demanded, "Captain, it is pertinent that we gain more recruits and improve public support before making a move that could possibly lead to war!"

"And here I thought you'd jump at the chance to find where this sugar is coming from." Lard Nar joked.

Zim was livid. "Not at the risk of our entire crew!"

"Zim." Lard Nar said his name in the quiet, powerful way he spoke when issuing commands, humor evaporated. "I am not saying we're going to attack whatever we find. This will be a covert mission for informational purposes only. You know no one in known Irken space would dare help us unless we had compelling proof that things can and will get a lot worse than they already are if we do not act. This is how we can convince them. If we want our approval and our recruitment to go up, we have to take this risk. It's the only possible way for us to achieve the informational assets we need to turn public opinion on the R.E.S.I.S.T.Y's side. If we don't do this, we stay a small time resistance that will ultimately pitter out without achieving anything and the Irken will remain in power and unchallenged."

"And if we do take this risk," Zim mumbled moodily, "We become a band of idiotic smeets who tried to take on the Armada without a plan and died a futile death."

"Zim. I've made my decision." Lard Nar spoke firmly, he laid his hands on the table and leaned towards Zim, daring him to dispute the facts. "For the good of the resistance, we must find out what is going on out there." When Zim showed no inclination to resist, he took a deep breath and again settled into his contemplative pose. "Now, I could really use my Commander behind me, especially since you're the only one on this ship with the necessary subterfuge to survive this type of mission."

Zim studied the Vortian, saw the way his olive green eyes sparkled with a grim determination, and sighed. "I may not always agree with you, my Captain, but Zim is always at your disposal." He saluted in the way of his people; an Irken military habit five years working under Lard Nar had yet to erase. It didn't matter; the Vortian had come to associate the gesture with complete devotion and determination on Zim's part.

He would not fail.

A/N I wanted to make this chapter a little longer, but decided to take more time for the next one so I don't leave ya'll with too many cliffies! :P

Anyway, I'm doing this to practice writing styles - it'll take about 30+ chapters, maybe more to finish. Constructive criticism would be appreciated and I'd love to try having a beta if anyone's interested - preferably someone who can whip me into shape and make me write! lol