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The Chikyuu Contaminant
Chapter 4
I hate that bastard, Sashoki reminded herself as she looked at the latest transmission blustered away from the duty officer. But this--this is no death for a Saiyan.
Pulling one knee up, she propped her chin on it as she stared morosely at the screen. It was, unquestionably, Radditz, his austere face unnaturally pale. His hair had been pulled to one side and knotted so that it spilled over one shoulder, undoubtedly to keep it out of the way of -- of --
Of whatever those hideous torture contraptions were that the Chikyuu natives wired him into.
She knew the immediate reaction of some native species upon contact with extra-terrestrials was to take them apart. It was natural enough, she supposed with typical Saiyan indifference. Just killing the invaders outright made more sense. Although if one could probe the enemy to explore ki draining techniques, maybe experimentation was a worthwhile endeavor.
Discovering that Radditz experienced a significant drop in ki took some sleuthing, which did not come to Sashoki (or any Saiyan) naturally -- a side-effect of partnering Zarbon, she decided, who after all was always trying to make her and Radditz and even the Prince think. So she studied the unknown characters as the scouter focused on Radditz, then watched an insipid pale-haired female creature smile and flash a "V" sign as more characters scrolled. A voice commented on the difference in power levels before the transmission ended. Comparing the readings side by side, Sashoki discerned what was probably a placeholder, a small round dot, in both. There were two characters to the right of it in each reading, most likely a fraction indicator. Radditz's reading displayed three characters to the left of the placeholder; that skinny female only had a single character there.
The characters might be different, but surely the units were the same. If so, Radditz should have four characters to the left of the placeholder, not three; his power was down by at least one third. Severe injury would affect his resting ki level, of course, but that should improve as he healed; in any case, something that reduced a warrior's ki this dramatically should have killed him. And there were those cheerful voices and that arrogant "V" sign displayed to who-ever would receive the transmission, indicating a confidence beyond what a single unit ki rating deserved.
She looked again at Radditz's figure, frozen on her screen. Zarbon would hate to see his -- her lip curled -- his friend, as he called Radditz, like this. It would tweak some of those strange alien emotions of his, perhaps make him act recklessly when he got to Chikyuu. Acting out his feelings would put Zarbon in jeopardy, and, off-worlder though he was, she liked Zarbon. She didn't want him killed or, worse, to end up like Radditz. Which was a good enough reason, as far as Sashoki was concerned, to keep this to herself.
But the Prince was with Zarbon, and although the Foreseen One had the sort of awesome ki one would expect from a legend come to life, even a very strong power could be overcome by the unexpected. It happened to the last Super Saiyan. If the natives could do this -- this horrible thing to a warrior of first class, and then mock him by setting careless, obviously low-ranking soldiers as his guards, perhaps even the Prince would be endangered.
For a moment Sashoki considered her duty to the Heir. Him she held no affection for; after all, the little runt almost carted her off to be sterilized and lobotomized and who-knew-what-else-ized like one of those automatons in the royal harem. Zarbon assured her, repeatedly, that it was all a misunderstanding, but her alien lover was stunningly naive sometimes. Every time she caught the edge of the Prince's glance she was convinced only Zarbon stood between her and summary de-sexing.
Sashoki reminded herself of her oath of fealty. Not passing this warning on to the Prince could be construed as treason. But then, again -- her oath was given was to the House of Vejiitasei and not, like Zarbon's own vow, to the Prince himself.
Feh, Sashoki decided after a moment. Her duty to Vejittasei was clear, all right. Any Prince that ventured off planet like a common soldier made his own fate; if Vegeta couldn't survive Chikyuu on his own, he didn't deserve to be King. Still, she didn't want Zarbon to be totally unprepared for the potential danger. Pushing the button to erase the scouter transmission, Sashoki placed a request for Zarbon to call her at his convenience.
Kami-sama regarded the four warriors who answered his summons -- Tenshin-Han, Chaozu, Yamcha and Krillain -- with some carefully concealed misgivings. They were the best Earth had to offer, strong of heart, each with special skills, each convinced they could take on another Radditz if it became necessary.
Except for Krillian, conceded Kami-sama, looking at the worried crease across the little monk's forehead. Krillain was the only one of the four who had a real inkling of the power the Saiyans possessed, since he was with Goku when Radditz first showed up. The Saiyan crushed him with contemptuous ease.
And there was a command ship heading this way carrying several hundred Radditzes, and at least one Saiyan prince. His planet was all but doomed.
Kami-sama was not going to let it go without a fight.
"Let me tell you," he said, "about the Room of Space and Time."
The good news, Piccolo thought, was that the kid was no longer afraid of his own shadow.
The bad news was he was no closer to accessing the great power dormant within him than he had been before Piccolo put paid to the discussion Goku and his girlfriend/mate/wife/whatever were having by swooping in and flying off with Gohan. The little boy screamed and kicked and hollered until Piccolo dropped him into a stream. Then Gohan choked and gagged and spit while Piccolo told him harshly that if he didn't want to spend the rest of his life being grabbed by people like the Demon King or "Uncle" Radditz to be used as a hostage against his powerful daddy, he needed to become powerful himself. The boy agreed. Gohan's physical skills, unfortunately, weren't nearly enough to control his awesome potential. If only I had a few months to toughen him up, thought Piccolo sourly. But, no; the Saiyans had been three-fourths of the way here before anyone on Earth found out they were coming. There was no time to give the kid the physical skills he needed. They were doomed unless the Demon King did the unthinkable and --
No.
No way.
Snorting, Piccolo tucked his feet under himself and crossed his arms, floating in midair while he glared at Gohan. Gohan's thick, dark hair was tangled and matted, his dirty, tear streaked face bruised where he hadn't gotten out of the way of Piccolo's fist fast enough. It was a rough training session, but what the kid required now was rest. And Piccolo needed to clear his mind before he completely lost his cool and destroyed the one being who had a decent shot at battling the Saiyans head on. He scowled at the boy, who was lying on his stomach drawing in the sand with a stick. "Kid, stop it. Get some sleep."
"I can't sleep."
"Well, try," snapped Piccolo.
The boy smoothed a hand over the dirt, erasing what he had just done, then started scratching again.
"Kid, Mr. Dirt and Mr. Stick will be there tomorrow morning -- and so will Mr. Daddy if you sleep in too long. Go to sleep now."
A crease of determination appeared between the boy's brows. He looked at Piccolo through his thick bangs and said, "I'll go to sleep when I figure this out."
"Figure what, kid?"
"My algebra homework."
"Excuse me?"
The boy sighed. "I'm trying to figure out how to get to my power," he explained, patiently. "Mom says all problems are the same, whether its numbers or words or life; you just have to work out the solution."
Piccolo blinked. Goku's whatever was smarter than he had given her credit for, although she couldn't be too bright if she submitted to having offspring by that rock-headed moron. "Kid," he said more tolerantly, "your mom's right. But if she were here right now, she'd tell you sleeping on a problem sometimes helps you with it, too."
"I can't sleep." There was a suspicious quaver in the boy's voice.
Piccolo's miniscule patience ran out. "Fine," he snapped, "but don't whine when you're too tired to block me tomorrow." Closing his own eyes, he popped them open again when he felt a tug on his cape.
Goku's little boy was standing under him with his arms upstretched.
After a pause, Piccolo remarked, "You are, of course, joking."
The lower lip trembled, then the boy bit down on it. "I can't sleep," he said again, plaintively. "Mom and Dad let me sleep with them when that happens."
"Kid, are you stupid or just color-blind? I'm not either your mom or your dad, trust me."
"I know. But you don't let me fall when you fly with me, and I know you won't let anything get me when you're floating with me."
Piccolo blinked again, not sure he followed the logic, but Gohan remained planted underneath him with his arms resolutely stretched out. "Whatever," the Demon King finally growled. He held one taloned claw down; Gohan grabbed hold and climbed up the pink and green arm, swinging a leg over Piccolo's knee and resting the back of his head against the broad chest. They floated in silence for a few minutes.
"Listen, kid. If you can't sleep, you should meditate. It will help you focus your power."
"How do I do that?"
Piccolo sighed. Hadn't Goku taught his offspring anything? "Everybody has a center, kid. It's a point of self-knowledge." He continued to talk in a low voice. The boy nodded once in a while, although the Demon King couldn't tell if it was in understanding or if the kid was just beginning to drift off.
Neither paid particular attention to the moon as it slowly rose, full and bright, over the mountains behind them.
There was a knock at her window.
Bulma raised her head from the pillow, frowning. No one should be knocking on her window, fer crying out loud; it was two in the morning.
She was also three stories up, but that didn't contribute to her annoyance. Height was not necessarily a deterrent to her friends. Or, as far as that went, to her once-again ex-boyfriend, who if he thought he was coming in for a cuddle had another think coming--
Grabbing the second pillow -- his pillow, for Kami's sake, why did she even need a second one on the bed? -- Bulma flung it at the window and shouted, "Get the hell away, Yamcha! You can call at a decent hour like a normal human being!"
There was a fluffy thud as the pillow impacted against the pane. After a second, the knock came again.
Hissing through her teeth, Bulma grabbed her robe and flounced over to the window, flinging it open and snarling, "If you think you can just wander over here any time you're in the mood--!"
The figure hovering outside her window put one arm behind his head and smiled sheepishly. "Uh, hi."
"Goku," she sighed. Now what? she thought.
Goku explained that Kami-sama needed him, that he was going to Heaven first thing in the morning to see the deity but he wanted to visit his brother first. "What makes you think he's in my room? He's in the infirmary," said Bulma in annoyance.
Goku gave his best wide-eyed, innocent look and mentioned a problem with clearance. Reaching out of her window, she grabbed a handful of his loose-fitting orange gi and demanded to know how many of her security robots were currently smoking piles of scrap metal. "All the ones that attacked me," Goku replied honestly. "But more were coming and I didn't want to wake everyone up, so..."
So I get to lose sleep over this, Bulma mentally groused as she opened the door to the patient's room. And fill out insurance forms to try and get something back on a few dozen very expensive robots. Turning the lights on low, she stood aside to let Goku pass.
As Goku stood by the bed looking down at the alien, she leaned against the wall and studied the two of them. Goku was smaller and slighter than his supposed brother, with a mass of unruly dark hair that clustered in thick spikes around his head. There was a resemblance in the facial structure, the jaw and cheeks especially. The eyes (when Radditz's were open) were also virtually identical, although Goku's semi-permanent expression of cheerful surprise gave his a rounded arch. The Saiyan's eyes were more angular.
Not "the" Saiyan, she reminded herself. If what Radditz said was true, then Goku was also Saiyan. And there were more on the way...
Goku reached down and gently folded his hand over his brother's. After a moment he sighed and turned away, his expression disappointed.
"What?" asked Bulma.
"I was hoping he felt better."
"He's much better than he was," Bulma told him. "He's even been awake a couple of times lately, although he hasn't said anything."
Goku shook his head. "No, not like that. He still--" he looked over his shoulder at Radditz, sadly, "--he still feels evil. I hoped he had time to think things over while he was like this, but there's no change in him." The big, dark eyes were troubled. "I haven't been able to catch up with Gohan, and I thought maybe I could ask him to look while I was with Kami-sama, but--" He stopped and shook his head.
"You want me to look? I could track down the dragonball Gohan was wearing."
Reaching into the loose top of his gi, Goku pulled out a mud-spattered little cap, the apex of which sported a small round golden ball with four stars on it. He handed it to her.
"Oh, Goku. I'm so sorry."
"Chi-chi has three of the others. Maybe you could look for the rest, in case we need them."
"I'm sure Gohan's all right," Bulma said, patting him on the arm.
"He is," agreed Goku. "But he's scared most of the time. He'd feel better if he were with his mom." He sighed. "I have to go talk to Chi-chi, tell her that Kami needs me now. She's not going to be happy. She'll probably try to take after Piccolo herself."
"Remind her that the planet is about to be destroyed," suggested Bulma.
"With Gohan missing, that won't matter to her," Goku said, smiling wryly. "Telling her Piccolo isn't going to hurt him right now won't help, either. She doesn't believe it."
Neither did Bulma. She kept that to herself.
"I better get going." He took another long look at Radditz's still form. "What a powerful force he could be for good. What a horrible waste of ki." He smiled his singularly sweet smile at her, then started out the room.
"You're such a jerk to put him through this," Bulma told the alien crossly, wishing he was conscious so that she could really lay into him. "And don't even get me started on the whole purge-the-planet thing!"
There was a yelp and a cackling spit of energy. Goku backed into the room, looking at Bulma with wide apologetic eyes. "Umm--I just broke another of your robots."
Bulma sighed. "I'll walk you out."
Read The Chikyuu Contaminant: Chapter Five
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