VINDICATION

Chapter 41: Demands


Dib stretched, not bothering with the suit jacket this time, simply wearing another white dress shirt with a black tie, dress pants and dress shoes. He tested the microphones, then looked over at Zim. “Let me know when you’re ready. This is probably going to get really interesting.”

Zim nodded, then grinned, sitting down in the chair and yanking Dib down onto his lap, not giving him a chance to move before reaching out and flipping the TRANSMIT button.

Dib was about to move when the screen came on, and the image of a room full of frantic world leaders was before them. Well, nothing for it now…Dib relaxed into Zim’s lap, putting his feet up on the table and crossing them at the ankles, grinning at the screen.

“Hello again, fellow humans.” Dib smirked. “I trust our demonstration was sufficient?”

President Man was sobbing and rocking back and forth in the corner, so Canadian Prime Minister Man stood up and spoke for him. “While we do not approve of such blatant acts of terrorism, nor do we appreciate them, it seems that we have no choice other than to hear you out.”

Dib chuckled, shaking his head. “Leave it to the Canadians to have the only good sense in that damned room.”

Zim quirked an antenna, giving him an odd look.

“I’ll explain later.” He chuckled, then looked at the screen for a moment. “Very well.” He looked back at Zim. “You are free to make your demands now, my Tallest.” Dib smirked, leaning back in Zim’s lap and watching the faces of the dignitaries on the monitor as Zim spoke. He caught his breath when he felt Zim’s gloved hand tugging his shirt up in the back, rubbing the bare skin in the small of his back firmly.

“People of Earth…my demands are quite simple. I want five hundred working spacecraft with defensive and offensive capabilities, fully operational and fully staffed.”

The translators started explaining, and Canadian Prime Minister Man blinked at him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Tallest, but…but we don’t even have that many spacecraft available, even if you count the ones at the space station.”

“Then you will build them.” Zim growled, pinching Dib’s ass sharply when he snickered at Prime Minister Man’s Mr. Tallest remark.

Dib inhaled sharply, giving Zim a dirty look. “Jerk.” He muttered, then returned his attention to the screen.

There was a murmur of sound throughout the room, and Zim leaned back in the chair, watching the screen and sliding his hand further up Dib’s shirt, kneading the spot between his shoulderblades. Canadian Prime Minister Man cleared his throat and spoke up again. “Mr. Tallest…we don’t have those types of resources at our fingertips. It takes time to build shuttles, and millions of dollars…”

Zim’s eyes narrowed and he grinned. “Then you shall have to pool your monies to fund my project, and find a way to get along with your fellow dirt-brethren. My demands are on the table. You have twenty four hours to decide, or we will resume our nuclear attacks. We will contact you at eight p.m. tomorrow.” Zim flipped the END TRANSMIT button, then leaned back in the chair with Dib in his lap, sighing in pleasure. “Things are finally coming together.”

“You didn’t have to pinch me, you know.”

Zim snorted. “You were laughing. It was unprofessional.”

Dib burst out laughing. “Unprofessional? Zim, we rule the world! We don’t have to worry about professionalism.”

“Then why are you wearing a suit, Dib-worm?” Zim grinned, a sadistic spark flaring in his eyes as he grabbed Dib’s tie and gave it a sharp tug.

Dib blinked at him, then cleared his throat. “Well…I…um…I figured it was important…so they’d take us seriously.”

“Exactly.”

Dib rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” He stretched, loosening the tie and taking it off over his head, tossing it aside, shifting around so he was straddling Zim’s lap, grinning at him as he ran his hands down the length of both of Zim’s antennae at the same time, chuckling when the Irken uttered a loud purr of pleasure. “So, how much time are we going to give them to build our fleet?”

Zim opened his eyes. “Hmm?”

Dib smiled and shook his head, putting his arms loosely around Zim’s neck, sitting comfortably in his lap. “I was just wondering how long we should give them to build the ships.”

Zim considered this for a long moment, then frowned a little. “I have yet to determine how long it will take the Armada to get here.”

Dib nodded, running his hands over Zim’s shoulders. “What are you going to do? You can’t really be as obvious as you were last time you tried to bring—”

Zim put his hand over Dib’s mouth, scowling. “Don’t say another word. I never want you to mention that incident again. I am going to find a way.” He pushed Dib off of his lap and stormed out of the lab.

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