Beautiful Dreamer

"My Revered Almighty Tallest, I understand that I have been summoned in regards to my mission?"

The female Irken bowed deeply before Almighty Tallest Red and Purple, the two figureheads of the Irken race. They bowed back, accepting the female's gesture of goodwill. The female, being only a few centimeters shorter than the Almighty Tallest, looked directly at her leaders.

"Yes, Mistress Nin," Almighty Tallest Red informed her. "You know how important your mission is to the sake of our race."

"I do," Nin nodded, absentmindedly fidgeting with her wrist. She finally pressed a button upon it, but no effect came forth. That's what the Tallest thought, anyway. In actuality, a visor was spreading across Nin's eyes, feeding her necessary information about her surroundings from within the lounge of the Massive.

"…According to the Control Brains, the Smeet tanks will short circuit in two years, possibly even less," Tallest Red elaborated. "That is why you were taken out of your sleep, Nin."

"Was I born too soon?" Nin inquired with a scowl. It was a habitual look for her, as normal as the black coating on her arms, or the jeweled pendants on her boots.

"No," Tallest Purple shrugged, staring out of the Massive's huge window. The vastness of space looked back at him, its stars blinking at random intervals. "The Smeet tanks hadn't broken down yet, actually. We didn't want you to die before you were needed."

"Ah," Nin said emotionlessly. The findings she was gathering from her visor were strange, to say the least. For as long as Nin could remember, even while in her sleeping tube deep beneath the surface of Planet Irk, the Almighty Tallest were revered as the great leaders of her amazing race. Yet… her visor was calculating so many things, most of them a bit underwhelming.

"Operation Impending Doom Two is underway," Tallest Red mused. "And the Smeet to be produced in these coming years have to be the greatest warriors and the greatest thinkers Irk has ever seen."

Nin manipulated a few more buttons on her arm, inputting more data into her visor's computer. Her magenta eyes flickered in interest. "Are the Smeet tanks breaking down yet, My Tallest?"

"We've lost two," Tallest Purple thought aloud.

"And the new wave of Smeet need to be the most destructive, diabolical life forms in the universe," Nin murmured. Her knees, covered by black tights, were shaking with anticipation. Nin's hands moved from her sides and to the edges of her royal purple dress. The deep violet stripes going across her chest crinkled with her movement. A smile spread across the Irken girl's face.

"For so long I've waited for this," Nin grinned. "The chance to prove myself…"

Tallest Red glanced at Tallest Purple. Tallest Purple's shoulders sank. Tallest Red turned back to Nin.

"Nin, can't you just make a bunch of -?"

"I don't think you understand my position," Nin snapped quickly, her hands crossing over her chest. The purple baubles on her antennae jingled slightly. "I am the only Irken female who can reproduce, correct?"

Tallest Red nodded. Tallest Purple was watching a supernova implode light-years away.

"I cannot reproduce with any arbitrary Irken," Nin assured Tallest Red. "I entered handfuls of data into my visor as you spoke to me of this mission, you know."

Nin tapped the space in front of her eyes. The visor bubbled into view, a blue masque of truth around Nin's head. Nin looked to the ceiling of the Massive.

"Do you have carpet on your ceiling?"

"Now isn't the time for that," Tallest Red sighed. "What were you saying about your mission…?"

Nin snapped back to attention. "As I said, I cannot just pick a random person off of the streets – out of the underground – and hope for the best! You know about my power as the Sacred Creator, and how this visor is just an outgrowth of myself."

Tallest Red knew. Tallest Purple wasn't a sure bet, but he wasn't even paying attention, opting to watch as a small, inconsequential planet was sucked up by the imploding supernova.

"Right now, I'm calculating how compatible your genes are with my own," Nin informed Tallest Red.

"You're very creepy," Tallest Red responded. "And hasn't it generally been the responsibility of the Almighty Tallest to have the first Smeet with the Sacred Creator?"

Tallest Purple's eyes started shifting over to the conversation being held behind him.

"Generally," Nin shrugged. "But my predecessor didn't go with tradition. Neither did the fifth Sacred Creator, back in –"

Tallest Red stopped her. "I understand. But… who exactly were you planning on creating the Smeet with?"

Tallest Purple was now pretending to watch the supernova turn into a black hole. The Massive was now veering right, to avoid said black hole.

"Whoever is most compatible with me," Nin responded matter-of-factly. "And I know what you're thinking. Love… Tradition… those things have nothing to do with my decisions. If I am to please My Revered Tallest – and the rest of my people – I must locate the best mate possible. By the way, I am only 16 compatible with you."

"What does that mean?" Tallest Red wondered.

"It means the Smeet we would produce would be only 16 better than the Irken Smeet being produced now," Nin answered, gauging her compatibility with a Control Brain that happened to float by in the hall.

Tallest Purple scuttled away from the window. "Mistress Nin… how -?"

"You're 16 too," Nin responded bluntly.

Tallest Purple's eye twitched, but he turned away before Nin could notice. Nin returned her attention to Tallest Red. She clearly respected him more than his counterpart.

"My Tallest, if you would allow me, I would like to use the Irken Database located on this ship. It may help me in locating suitable partners," Nin explained. "Invaders in particular."

Tallest Red gave a nod of agreement and a small smile. "Yes, an Invader. They usually possess many qualities that would be valuable for a Smeet to have… Please, use the Database, I implore you."

Nin bowed deeply again to Tallest Red, and then turned her attentions to Tallest Purple. She bowed to him as well before walking officiously out of the room. The emblem on the back of her head, a diamond with two tinier triangles near the top two edges of the first shape, pulsed an eerie black. This mark made it very clear to any Irken on the planet that Nin was the Sacred Creator.

Tallest Red finally turned back to Tallest Purple. "You were intending on marrying her, weren't you?"

"Yeah…" Tallest Purple admitted, sitting down on a couch. "Oh well."

"Probably better that she didn't want you, though," Tallest Red pondered.

"Oh yeah," Tallest Purple nodded. "That whole death thing."

"I wonder if she's really going to kill an Invader…" Tallest Red shrugged, joining Tallest Purple on the couch.

-

"I have you now, Zim!" Dib screamed for the rest of his apathetic class to hear. "There's no way you can get out of this one!"

Zim blinked. He was used to such threats from Dib, the crazy big-headed boy.

But wait, Zim thought randomly, his head is the same size as mine.

…I don't get it.

Zim walked past Dib and his pointed finger, electing to take a seat. For a split second, Zim glared venomously at Dib. Everything about Dib irked Zim excessively – his large glasses, his swathe of black hair jutting out of the top of his head, his choice of clothing, his murky brown eyes. But the thing Zim hated most about Dib was his acuity concerning Zim's existence.

Zim was an alien – specifically an Irken Invader. It was his job, as an Invader, to either exterminate or enslave all life upon a planet. That way, when the Massive and its battalion of ships came to the planet, the pesky assault phase would already be taken care of.

And Dib knew this. How he found out – or why he even cared – was a matter Zim didn't want to touch.

"What is it that I am supposed to be getting out of?" Zim wondered aloud.

Dib narrowed his eyes. "You're an alien. I know it."

"Pshaw," Zim scoffed, waving his hand in an awkward manner. "I am a perfectly normal earth monster."

"Dib, you're crazy," a voice from the back of the class called out. It was Zita. Although everyone called Dib crazy – even his own sister, Gaz – Zita was rumored to have started the trend.

Zim smiled. Dib usually shut up after someone called him –

Dib got out of his seat, going to sharpen his pencil. As Zim paid no attention, Dib kicked Zim on the back. Dib had, however, kicked Zim's PAK, an Irken device containing the alien's brain, personality, and a bunch of other nifty gadgets (such as mechanical spider legs, for extra mobility). This caused Zim to writhe terribly, screeching in pain. Dib stood by, a maniacal grin across his face.

Resident popular girl Olivia, pushing some sandy hair behind her ear, scowled. "What a freak."

Zita's purple hair bobbed as she turned to Olivia. "Dib or Zim?"

"Exactly," was Olivia's response.

Ms. Bitters, Dib and Zim's teacher, sat behind her desk, gently pressing her fingertips together. "Dib! You already sharpened your pencil once this year! Get back in your desk!"

Dib did as instructed. He had a gut-wrenching fear of Ms. Bitters.

"And Zim!" Ms. Bitters yelled. "We all know that you're criminally insane. Stop showing off your talent."

Zim bit at his lip, attempting to keep all of his bile within his mouth. Zim glowered at Dib, the pain within his tiny body rising at an insurmountable rate. Dib's grin only grew wider.

If Zim was criminally insane, then Dib was surely the illegitimate son of a homicidal maniac.

Zim's eyelids twitched repeatedly when something vibrated within his PAK. Dib saw this out of the corner of his eye, waiting for something strange to occur. He saw the vibrations to mean that Zim was repairing himself.

Zim, however, wasn't repairing himself. That's why his knees buckled, and his eyes widened to the size of saucers. His hands clattered upon the desk, which proved very distracting for Melvin, who had both ADD and a short attention span.

When Zim's brain created a thought, it was not a good thought. It was a very bad, very foreboding thought.

"I'm going to die," Zim said plainly.

Dib raised an eyebrow. "That's a little extreme, don't you think?"

Zim turned to give a sharp retort, but his jaw dropped. Rendered speechless, Zim made a variety of choked noises.

"What?" Dib wondered, shifting in his seat. "All I did was kick -"
Dib's jaw also fell. Dib and Zim watched, helplessly, as the sky turned a shocking green for a few seconds. A white streak zoomed across the sky, and, just as suddenly as it started, the spectacle stopped. Zim coughed up something disgusting-sounding, and Dib was certain that he had stopped breathing.

"Freaks," The Letter M muttered underneath his breath.

Disclaimer: I don't own Invader Zim. Obviously. Otherwise I'd be waving money in your face. (I kid, Jhonen! I kid…)

A/N: This is the first time in a long time I've posted a new story. I was hoping that the first new story would be a Family Guy one, as that fandom has supplied me with some of my most loyal fans, but the story I started ('Road to Mexico') isn't particularly funny, and I need to rewrite it. This story, on the other hand, was amazingly easy to write, and I'm almost finished with it as we speak.

A/N 2: I heard a rumor floating around that JTHM was being considered for a film treatment. Please, God, tell me it's not true.