InsaneJournal

It seemed as though hours had passed, Krakemeth ship floating silently alongside the Spittle Runner – past Venus, past Mercury, Sol's light near-blinding as they soared by. It would be safer this way, hidden by the brilliance of the star when the other vessel would no longer hide them, its job finished.

Everything was in Dib's hands now.

The Irken seated next to him, arms curled securely around a squirming baby, was clearly still in a grumpy mood, as he hadn't said anything more than the coordinates (TT4 Plural M Zeta), the reiterated fact that it was a 'space ghetto', and that Dib's head was still quite impossibly large. He had then spent a subsequent large amount of time glaring at absolutely nothing, antennae flicking in irritation every now and again.

Personally, Dib thought he was being a bit dramatic about the whole ordeal. At least his race hadn't been almost completely eliminated. (He, of course, avoided taking into account that pretty much every other race was hoping Zim would go on a rampage against his own kind someday soon.)

At first, the teen hadn't at all minded the silence – relished it, in fact, since Zim normally left him with a massive ear-ache. But after over two hours of it, with literally nothing to do (not even the scenery was very interesting, being not much more than endless white-speckled black), the novelty quickly wore off.

He was...quite possibly...dying of boredom.

“Hey,” Dib muttered, nudging the Irken's leg with his foot.

Zim didn't even look at him.

Pressing on, the boy added, “You're not going to be like this the whole trip, are you?” When there was, as expected, no answer – other than a particularly spiteful glare – Dib sighed and slouched back in the command chair, gazing dully out at the vast expanse beyond. “...Hey, Tak?”

Yet more dreaded silence before the computer figured it would humor him. “Technically, I'm just her downloaded personality.”

“Don't care. Too bored to care, and calling you Tak is easier.” That said, Dib got straight to the point. “D'you have any games or anything?” he asked hopefully, ignoring the unimpressed snort from his alien companion.

A slight and very low buzz sounded for a moment, the ship's equivalent of a thoughtful hum. Then, it spoke up hesitantly, “Not...really... Do you want to play I Spy?”

Letting out an exasperated sound, the teen let his head thud down onto the control panel. Forget his earlier thoughts – the worst wasn't over yet.

“20 questions, then?”

“Sure. Are we there yet?” Dib groaned.

“No. Next question, which hopefully won't be so stupid,” the computer replied tartly.

“How long is it going to take?”

“Sorry, that's not a yes or no question.”

“Ziiiiiim,” Dib whined then, turning his head to stare helplessly at said Irken, who rolled his eyes at his behavior. Sad, really, seeing as the one usually doing the eye-rolling was Dib.

For a moment all Zim did was blandly return the stare, then he sighed harshly and finally spoke. “It'll take about a week.”

Immediately, Dib's eyes bugged out. “A week?! I can't survive a week of constant boredom and you! And how am I supposed to get clean, or change, or-” He grimaced at his next thought. “How am I supposed to go to the bathroom?”

Zim sneered at that, scooting away as much as he could (that is, not at all). “I did not need to know that about you,” he responded matter-of-factly.

“Oh, come off it! You already knew!” Dib snapped at him before addressing the computer, somewhat dreading whatever it would have to say. “Tak, is there anywhere we can stop between here and our destination? Please say yes.”

The computer buzzed lowly again, then replied, “Yes.”

“Where?”

“That's not a yes or no question.”

The urge to yank on his hair was quite strong, but he kept as calm as he could manage. He ended up tugging on his hair anyway as he yelled, “For God's sake, Tak, I'm not playing 20 questions anymore! Just answer me!”

“Giving up already? Epic failure if I've ever seen one. I picked an easy word for you, too: recipriversexcluson.”

“I've never even heard that word before,” Dib stated flatly.

“Oh.” The computer didn't sound all too bothered by it, and instead figured it might as well answer the question that had been forced onto its processors. “There's a handful of filling stations from here to Resortia that we'll be able to stop at for both supplies and...er...bodily functions. You might have to hold it for a while, though; the closest station is still four hours from where we are now.”

Relieved by the answer, Dib gave a slight nod. “Thanks, Tak. At least someone here is being useful.” He directed an irritated look at Zim as he said this.

Sticking his tongue out slightly, Zim retorted, “And someone else is being annoying as usual.”

“I'm guessing that would be you?” the boy teased, drawing a growl of aggravation from his companion. Zim wasn't able to get in much more than that, though, as the infant in his arms gave a displeased whine and flailed a bit, prompting the Irken to let her down so she could roam about the tiny space to her heart's content. “She still needs a name,” Dib informed him (somewhat needlessly). “Did you ever think of one?”

“In case you never noticed, up until recently Zim has been busy trying to stay alive,” Zim responded dully, antenna quirking as he kept watch over the girl, pushing her hands aside whenever she felt the need to aim them towards the controls. “I still like 'Stinky', though.”

Dib frowned at that. “That's not a name.”

“Actually, on Rigel 5, it's a common name derived from that of a religious figure,” Tak's personality chipped in before adding, “A male, incidentally.”

“So it's a boy's name.”

“Yep, sure is. Of course, there's at least four thousand other planets on which the name is used in numbers higher than 'zero', if you'd like me to elaborate,” the computer offered pleasantly.

Zim tapped at his chin thoughtfully for a moment. “Any of them for girls?” he asked, pretending not to notice the look Dib shot him that seemed to say 'Why are you actually considering this name?', the answer to which was that it bugged the human, and bugging the human was a welcome alternative to sulking for the next few days.

The expected low buzz emitted from the console before a response came. “Uh, yes, but most of them are either very uncommon, or not very nice names. Or they're just dumb. There's really only one that's commonly used.”

“And what's that one mean?”

"Er...literally, 'to stink'."

Dib directed a quizzical glance to the console, that being the only physical part of the computer he could think to look at (it was basically the whole ship, after all). “How is that not one of the 'not very nice' names?” he wondered out loud.

“On planet Bespin, home to a race of pig-like creatures, it's a perfectly respectable name.”

“But not anywhere else besides planet Bespin,” Zim guessed with an annoyed frown.

Had the computer been able to shrug, it probably would have. “Not really, no.”

“Well, then, I'm out of ideas,” he told Dib, relatively unconcerned about the entire matter. After all, it was just a name. Not like the baby would need something like that anytime soon.

“Why don't you just give her an Irken name?” Dib suggested with as much patience as he could muster – the simple act of naming couldn't be that difficult, could it?

Both Zim and computer snapped back at him then, and he figured it was some nonsense along the lines of it being an insult to christen an alien with a superior Irken name. He couldn't really tell, seeing as they were both yelling at him at the same time, so the most he could make out here and there was 'scum' and 'inferior', along with other cruder words he didn't care to dwell on.

Eventually the yelling at Dib turned into Zim and the computer yelling at each other to stop yelling, in order for either one to better yell at the human. A minute or two of this was, admittedly, quite entertaining (in the manner that most things are entertaining after two hours of boredom). Once it got to the point that the two were still arguing after a quarter of an hour, though, Dib felt the need to step in.

“You know what? Forget it. I'll name her!” he exclaimed, though he had to repeat himself loud enough to be heard over the others, then again when it failed to get their attention. Finally, Zim seemed to get the message.

He was appropriately insulted.

“She's my smeet!” Zim protested, scooping her up as if to further prove a point that Dib had more or less already conceded. “Why should you name her?”

Grating out a sigh, Dib pointed out, “If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't even have her in the first place. I think it's only fair that I get to name her.”

Grasping for an idea that didn't involve his once-nemesis naming 'his' smeet, Zim snapped, “Computer! Give me a name for a female smeet! A good name, that will inspire fear and admiration in all who hear it!”

“I'd suggest Tak, but that's an Irken name.”

“Oh, ha, that's so witty,” Zim drawled irritably. “Like that'd ever be an awe-inspiring name anyway. Think of a better one!”

The computer gave a few little bleeps. “I think I'd like to eject you now.”

The Irken exclaimed 'That's not even a name' somewhere around the same time Dib shouted for the computer to stop threatening them with the eject command, and the next few minutes consisted of the human giving Tak's personality a stern reprimand for its behavior, while Zim complained about the disturbing amount of saliva the baby seemed capable of producing (having not noticed that he'd been threatened at all). Once the AI had offered a grudging apology to an Irken that hadn't even realized one had been in order, they tried over again.

“Remember, computer – a good name!”

“Well...I've always liked the name Marina,” it offered, though the suggestion was quickly waved away as being 'too watery'. Dib only barely stopped himself from slapping a hand to his forehead in exasperation. “Uh...Samus, then?”

Zim groaned. “Ugh, that sounds like a boy's name! These are all terrible! You're not trying hard enough! Dib, I take back what I said about your programming job, you did awful!”

“You didn't really say anything good about it in the first place,” Dib told him uncertainly, eyes fixated on the baby as he fell silent, pondering. Reaching out a hand, he smiled a bit when she grasped onto a finger, shaking it with a pleased giggle. Zim gave a slight frown, but otherwise allowed the interaction – if it made her happy, he didn't need to interfere, or want to.

She'd probably whine if he did, anyway.

Shrugging off the notion that she was most likely going to end up extremely spoiled, Zim glanced up from the child to her hand, clutched around Dib's finger, then up to Dib himself. “If you can think of a better name than the computer, Zim shall consider it.”

A quick look of surprise followed this before Dib simply nodded, returning his gaze to the infant, mumbling to himself as he thought about it. A tiny thing, one of the last remnants of his race – probably the only child, he was certain. Something about her, though, made it seem like it wasn't all bad...that maybe there was, if only just a little, still...

“...Hope.”

Zim's eyes narrowed, and he mumbled the word to himself once before frowning again. “That can't be a name.”

“It is. Some girl in our eighth grade English class had the same name,” Dib confirmed, then paused and wondered quietly, “Or was it Destiny...?”

The Irken stuck out his tongue with a small noise of disgust. “We're certainly not naming her that. 'Hope' is a far better name, and that's saying something. It's not that great a name anyway.”

Dib's eyes didn't move from the baby's grip on his finger, and he muttered quietly, “I think it suits her.”

“Suits...her...?” Zim tilted his head a bit, the concept of a name fitting someone beyond the means of computerized code or appearances a bit baffling to him. It was clearly some strange human sentiment; certainly the name Zim suited a creature as amazing as himself, but that was mere encoding speaking – he had little to no understanding of the subtler descriptive nature of names. Few, if any, Irkens did.

Nevertheless, he stared down at the infant, trying to puzzle out the answer – the reason Dib might think the child corresponded to Hope in his simple human mind. Eventually he gave up, and simply asked why.

The answer he was supplied with, supposed drivel as 'a symbol of humanity's chance of survival' and whatnot, was unsatisfactory, but Zim figured he shouldn't be surprised. Either way, it got him wondering over his own chance for survival – assured, he was certain, but the consequences for that survival might not be to his liking. At least, though, he had a pet, or two if Dib would cooperate, to prove his superiority – yes, that sounded good.

Of course he, Zim, was still superior – there was no way Zim could not be something great, even outside his empire! The little smeet, under his command, may as yet bring him admiration, respect. At least, that was the most he could...

...hope for. Zim scoffed; so that was what it all boiled down to. “Very well.”

Startled, Dib jumped a bit, reclaiming his hand from the infant. “What?”

“Hope. It does, as you say, suit her. So, from now on, her name shall be Hope,” Zim decided with a sharp nod.

“Oh,” Dib responded, seeming a bit surprised. He hadn't been expecting the Irken to go along with it, especially not without a good deal of resistance. “Uh, okay. Cool.”

One antenna flicked up at this, Zim looking rather displeased. “Is that all you have to say?”

“What else am I supposed to say?”

“...I dunno. Hey, computer!” A resounding blip sounded, ensuring that the computer was indeed listening. “What do you think of 'Hope' for the smeet's name?”

A measured amount of silence, the low buzzing hum accompanying before the AI replied, “I guess it's okay. I still like Marina, though.”

“We could make that her middle name,” Dib suggested with a little grin – anything to bother Zim and bring a little bit of entertainment to an otherwise mind-numbingly boring trip.

“Too watery!” Zim proclaimed again, tucking the newly named 'Hope' mostly out of sight as though to protect her from such a soggy middle name.

“You realize she's made up of about seventy percent water, right?” Dib laughed – the Irken actually swore at that and held her away from him for a moment, eyes wide and antennae as high as they could go, before realizing that he was being silly. Aside from her tears and saliva, she hadn't burned his skin, so it was quite obviously safe to hold her. “Anyway, it's not like her middle name will ever really matter. It's just kinda...there.”

A slight scowl crossed Zim's face. “Why even have a middle name, then?”

“Just to confuse you,” the teen joked.

“Hmm. Fine, whatever.” The Irken shrugged it off, not really caring if the middle name was as unimportant as Dib had suggested. Tak's personality gave a gleeful noise at Zim's consent before falling silent once more.

Unaware of the entire conversation's meaning, little Hope merely stared up at her protector, smile wide as she reached up towards him with grabby hands – reaching for the twitchy black things she hadn't yet gotten to play with, but the resulting cuddle from the alien was just as good. (It didn't, of course, actually stop her from trying to grab at his antennae.)

Feelers flicking away from the insistent hands, Zim stayed quiet for a while before stating simply, “We'll be stopping at the next filling station.”

“Good,” Dib responded. “I mean, I shouldn't really complain if your senses are so much better than mine, but...you're really starting to stink.”

“It's the glorious stench of battle,” Zim drawled coolly, though the somewhat pained expression he carried showed just how much he had to agree. Unlike the human, he hadn't had a chance to replace his uniform, or scrub away the grime, or even wash his hands! Without a doubt, his mysophobic tendencies were screaming at him for a bar of cleansing soap, or anything that would get rid of the germs. But, it would have to wait.

Amused by the conflicted look on the Irken's face, Dib snickered at him. “Battle smells pretty bad, then.”

“ARGH! You- you- you infuriating pig-thing! See if I give you the honor of conversing with my amazing Zim-self anymore!” Zim spat, whirling to the console. “Tak, are we there yet?!”

“Oh my Tallests, for the second time, no! And don't ask me again!”

“Man, we're like some weird, dysfunctional sitcom family,” Dib muttered to himself.

The AI took it in itself to expound on the off-handed comment. “So if Zim's the one always taking care of Hope, does that make him the mother?”

Despite Zim's vehement denial, Dib shrugged and nodded. “I guess so.”

“And you're the one keeping everyone all together, breaking up fights and being the intelligent, boring, 'bring home the bacon' kind of guy?”

“Uh...sure, I guess you could say that. Though I...I'm not that boring, I don't think...”

The AI wisely decided not to comment on that particular tidbit. “So, then...you'd be the father.” Dib only shrugged again, mumbling a vague affirmative before the insinuation sank in and his mouth dropped open in shock. Tak's personality, after seeming to stifle laughter that it shouldn't have even been capable of, stated lamely, “You make a lovely couple.”

“Oh, shut up!” Dib snapped. “I got enough of that crap from Dad, I don't need it from you!” And as Zim had only a while earlier, he completely failed to put any amount of desperately needed space between the two of them.

Zim perked up a bit, the conversation grabbing his attention. “Oh, was that what the Professor meant?” he wondered, head tilted slightly to the side. Once it was confirmed by Dib, he made a face and refrained from saying anything more.

“And now we have the baby, the mother, and the father. Who am I, then?”

“You're the car,” Zim responded flatly. “The automated car meant to get us from point A to point B without being obnoxious.”

“That's not really a typical sitcom role.” It wasn't really a role at all, in fact. It wasn't any better than Zim's following suggestion, either: the dog.

“As though our lives as a sitcom would ever be considered typical.” Shaking his head, Dib leaned back in the control chair once more, staring up at the gleaming metal ceiling. “Even before now.”

A slight huff escaped the Irken next to him. “Before now doesn't matter – you more or less said so yourself,” Zim told him, curling up as best he could with what limited space they had, Hope snuggled up to his chest; she was starting to drift back to sleep, the last few hours a heavy toll after her earlier nap had been interrupted, and her new 'mother' was quite comfy.

Dib gave a small noise to show he'd heard, but didn't bother to say anything. Nothing really needed to be said now – at least, nothing that had to wait until the Irken was more at ease with the situation. Shifting himself to where he was slightly less cramped, and thankful that Zim had chosen to curl up in the seat rather than stretch out, Dib got as comfortable as he figured he'd get and closed his eyes.

A small grin spread on his face when he heard quiet humming from the Irken, the same tune as before – what had seemed almost like days ago. “Why that song?” he asked quietly, not wanting to disturb Hope as she fell asleep.

“It's the only human lullabaloo thing Zim knows,” the Irken admitted, only rolling his eyes when Dib corrected him. “Yes, lullaby. I knew that.” He hummed a bit of the melody before softly intoning a line.

'Then the traveller in the dark – thanks you for your tiny spark...'

“You know more of it than I do,” Dib chuckled lowly. “I didn't even know it had other parts to it.” Slitting one eye open, he glanced at Zim. “I think I'm just going to try to get some sleep – wake me up when we get to the filling station.”

“Mmhmm.” Leaning forward, the Irken tapped at the control panel, dimming the lights within the cockpit.

It was a surprisingly courteous gesture. “Thanks,” Dib mumbled, closing his eyes again.

“Anything to keep you quiet,” Zim refrained from saying, only giving an amused smile and claiming one of the discarded pillows from earlier to prop his elbow on, making it more comfortable for him to hold the infant – his smeet. He wondered about that thought for a moment.

His smeet? Huh...that would make him a sort of mother then, wouldn't it?

He glanced from the child, then to Dib, back to the child, then out at the emptiness of space with a thoughtful hum. It didn't seem like it would be horrible, at least.

As Zim began to hum again, Hope cuddling up to him as close as she could get, the only other sounds the light breaths of the two humans and the subtle buzz of the computer, the Spittle Runner sped silently through the cosmos, passing seemingly endless star systems and whole galaxies as it hurtled towards their destination – towards their future.

'...He could not see which way to go - If you did not twinkle so...'