Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Barracks ❯ Part 35 ( Chapter 35 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Ball Z – it belongs to its respective owners. This fan fiction is not a commercial project, and I am not making any money from writing it.
Warnings: Alternate Universe. Yaoi (male x male). Goten x Trunks and vice versa. Other pairings.
A/N: Starcut’s crew members:

1.Captain
2.Backup Captain
3.Master Sergeant
4.Navigator  - (Adriel)
5.Communications Specialist - (Sildara)
6.Programmer - (Rokunda)
7.Gunnery Sergeant - (Monteira Fawa)
8.Arms Specialist – (Hazel)
9.Arms Specialist – (Mandro)
10.Flight Officer - (Reyn Dueri)
11.Flight Officer - (Jadenas Ealt)
12.Head Engineer - (Nohail Ofura)
13.Maintenance Technician – (Mirun)
14.Maintenance Technician
15.Doctor - (Tamahi)
16.Medic - (Yereli)
17.Head Cook
18.Cook
19.Soldier - (Edesha)
20.Goten

Barracks

by chayron (lttomb@yahoo.com), beta-read by the quatreofdoom

Part 35

Goten was sitting in the kitchen at one of the tables, alone, drinking his lukewarm tea. His eyes would sometimes linger on the file in front of him, then shift to his mug, the opposite wall. Everybody had gone to bed already, maybe except for Rokunda and Adriel. Rokunda could sleep anywhere, anytime, and Goten would frequently notice her slumbering over her terminal. Goten didn’t really understand when Adriel slept. He always seemed to be present on the captain’s bridge or could be found walking around the ship, just like his boyfriend.

The third-class had just returned from his latrine duty. Before that, he had washed the dishes and mopped the floor in the kitchens. He had also prepared three buckets of potatoes for tomorrow’s breakfast. Reyn didn’t show up for his latrine duty. This was already the second time, and the third-class wondered whether the flight officer wasn’t taking advantage of his service. That didn’t seem to be very Reyn-like behavior, but who knew.

Goten pushed his mug aside and took the file. This was Reyn’s report, fresh from Adriel’s printer. Goten opened it. He skipped the very beginning and concentrated on what had happened on Domera. While reading, he had to admit that he liked Reyn’s style: it was clear and laconic, no unnecessary information cluttering it. It seemed that Reyn was pretty good at grammar, not that Goten was an expert – writing wasn’t his forte.

However, the problem was that his style was so laconic that, when Goten finished reading the report, he was perfectly familiar with what happened on Domera, but still had no idea how it all happened. The report looked perfectly normal unless one was interested in how exactly all the events transpired.

Goten stared at the last few sentences. “What the hell?”

Little did he know that the captain was saying exactly the same words, referring to the same report, at about the same time. He closed it and waved the file in the air.

“Reyn, I can’t accept this.”

The flight officer gave him an unhappy look. “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? You know perfectly well why! It’s missing some essential information.”

Reyn shifted in the chair the captain had offered him before starting to read his report. This was giving him a headache. It took him three whole hours to write that damn report before the end result satisfied him, and the captain was still not happy with it.

“Well, it is. So what? It’s not like I can tell the truth.”

The captain dropped the file onto his desk. He sighed. “I’ve read the reports from the rest of your team. There were fifteen Nondrens on board. Edesha killed two of them and wounded one. Hazel killed one and wounded one more. Mirun killed one. Four dead and two wounded. No matter how I count, we are missing eight deaths and one fatal injury.”

“Okay, so next time I will pulverize them into dust so that nobody will be missing anything.”

Reyn was obviously annoyed by the inquest and the captain gave him a warning glance. The flight officer lowered his eyes to his lap. Irritated, he scratched the back of his head, but stayed silent.

“I will readjust the count so that the death toll will be shared more equally between you and your teammates,” the captain said. “It will still look strange if someone decides to read the report more thoroughly, but it will be less suspicious. Send me the digital copy of your report. I’ll ask the same from the rest of your team. Later, you will read and sign the final version.”

Reyn nodded. “Will do. I don’t think anyone will bother though. Not right now. They can stay as they are. If they decide to interrogate the pirates, the numbers will be off again. It will cause an even bigger mess.”

The captain gave the flight officer a look. Despite the fact that Reyn had just effortlessly promised to send the reports, he was still arguing. Reyn didn’t usually talk back, at least not to his superiors. The thing was, the flight officer wanted to avoid involving his teammates.

“Given the current situation, I don’t think they will care, nor will they have time for interrogations. And even if they do, they won’t believe the pirates. I can’t pass in your report like that. It’s nine missing deaths we are talking about.”

“Fuck, should’ve just finished them all off!”

The captain shrugged. “Too late for that now.” He looked at the report on his desk. This was already the fourth time he was meddling with Reyn and his teammates’ reports during Reyn’s career on Starcut. There was an unspoken agreement between Reyn and his teammates that, in cases like this, their reports only concentrated on what they did, leaving Reyn out. There was no need to guess what happened.

The captain could still remember the first time he had to fabricate the flight officer’s report. It was five years ago and Reyn had just been freshly transferred to Starcut. They had captured a large shipment of guns as well as a few key members of the Tongerian faction. Starcut had been ordered to immediately deliver the prisoners and goods to the nearest colony. However, soon after landing, while they were leading the shackled outlaws onto the premises of the local police power building, they were attacked. It was an attempt to free the leaders. Total chaos ensued, the local police running around like chickens with their heads cut off, not understanding what was happening or who the enemy was. Starcut’s crew, meanwhile, tried to hold them off. It all ended with Reyn powering up.

He hadn’t questioned Reyn back then and he wasn’t going to do it now. Despite the fact that Reyn sometimes did things his own way, he was disciplined and tried not to cause too much trouble. The captain had also been quick to notice that he was capable as a small party leader. Reyn also avoided intimate relationships with his coworkers, which made him a perfect choice as a team leader. He thought that his decision to promote a newbie might meet with a few protests, but it had been accepted without any commotion.

From the corner where he was sitting, Mister Elite was staring at Goten with unconcealed hatred, watching the third-class having his breakfast. His fur had finally smoothed out and stopped shooting sparks this way and that. Mr. Elite wasn’t certain what had happened, but the cause was this two-legged abomination contently stuffing his face with wonderful smelling meat. It was a pity he couldn’t get into the creature’s lair and shit into his boots. He was certain, however, that the opportunity would soon present itself. He was looking forward to it.

“Hi.”

The third-class turned his head towards Adriel. who was climbing over the bench with a tray in his hands.

“Hi.”

“Fixed your lock,” the navigator said, lowering the tray onto the table. He rummaged about his pockets, then pulled out Goten’s keycard. “Here. Reprogrammed it.”

“Thanks a lot,” Goten said, taking the card. He twirled it around between his fingers, inspecting it, though, of course, there was no change visually.

The navigator sat down, arranged his plates on the table, then pushed the tray away. “I will have to give the new combination to Rokunda for her to enter it into the common database. You know, in case of emergencies or in case you lose your keycard.”

The third-class nodded. “Sure.” He pocketed the card. “Have you read Reyn’s report?”

“Not yet. Didn’t have time for that. Still have to write mine. Pain in the ass if you ask me.”

“Hmm…” Goten drawled. He didn’t know if he believed Adriel. He, just like the rest of the crew, must be avoiding any discussions concerning the events on Domera.

Whatever. It was not as if he didn’t know why they were doing it.

Adriel motioned at the cook, who was present today and busying himself with washing the dirty dishes from the counter. “Today is your last day in the kitchens, isn’t it?”

“Well, sorta. It’s not that I have many things to do, so I’ll be helping them out from time to time.”

“That’s what you think. I have news for you. The captain said that you will have to watch over the two pirates in the medical room. We can’t ki-cuff them yet, because it would hinder the healing process, so they are just lying there. Tamahi and Yereli can keep watch over them alternately, but there might be times when they will have to leave.”

“I don’t mind. Will I be issued a gun?”

“What the hell for?” Adriel chuckled. “Well, sure. If you want one. Just ask Monteira for one. I don’t think they will stay on board so long as to recover to that extent. As soon as they are better, we’re going to drop them off.”

“I see. So when do I start?”

“Immediately. The captain didn’t give me any details, so I think you and the medics can make up a convenient schedule yourselves. The most important thing is that the pirates aren’t supposed to be left alone.”

The third-class nodded. The talk about guns made him realize that he hadn’t held a sword in his hands since he left the base. Not good. He was going to lose skill. He had to take a closer look at the weapon’s store and check if they had any swords. In the worst case scenario, a mop would do.

Goten finished breakfast and went to the medical room. Just as he had guessed, the medic was there, waiting for Tamahi’s return, in order to have his breakfast. The third-class informed him about the captain’s newest orders and let him go to the canteen.

The pirates were lying on narrow bunks pushed against the wall. One of them was asleep. The medic had informed him that the second one hadn’t come around after the operation yet. Maybe he would never regain his consciousness. There were a lot of wires and beeping things going on next to them and Goten came closer to inspect everything. He poked the IV drips, examined the lines and numbers on the screens, then looked around for a place to sit down.

Five hours later, Goten could still be found in the medical room alone, not counting the two Nondrens. He had taken Tamahi’s chair and, out of boredom, was whirling around with it. Two hours ago, one pirate woke up and asked for water. He fell asleep after that, and Goten was left in his own company. He had tried tinkering with the doctor’s computer, but it was password-protected, and he gave up as soon as entering Tamahi’s name didn’t work.

The third-class spun the chair around one more time, then his gaze settled on the opposite wall, just above the two pirates. He spent ten minutes staring at it, doing nothing, until the soft beep of the opening door drew him out of his trance. His eyes shifted to the door where he saw Reyn carrying a tray. Two steaming mugs were on it. Goten felt the aroma of coffee permeate the room.

“Hi,” Reyn greeted him, walking straight to the desk Goten was sitting at. He lifted one mug off of the tray and put it on the desk. Taking the other mug, he lowered the tray onto a pile of case-records and looked around for a place to sit. He spared a look at the pirates, then, after a moment of hesitation, walked over to the operating table and climbed onto it.

The third-class pulled his mug closer to himself. It was tea. “Thanks.” It seemed that the flight officer was perfectly familiar with his preferences. Goten remembered the first time he had tried to interrogate Reyn and brought both of them a mug of tea. Reyn had said nothing, but hadn’t even touched it, and now it was clear why.

Waiting for the flight officer to speak up, Goten lifted his mug to take a careful sip. It was too sweet. For some reason, this made the third-class appreciate the gesture even more. And it wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t drink it. He grinned.

“Well?”

Reyn seemed to be puzzled. “Well what?”

Goten realized that there was probably no other purpose to the flight officer’s visit except to keep him company. He sighed and blew on his hot tea.

“What’s that sigh for?”

“What s-? Ah, nothing at all. I’m bored out of my mind.”

“Yeah, figured you’d be.” Reyn took a mouthful of his coffee and swallowed. “You can skip your latrine duty for two days. Nobody checks whether you’re performing it anyway.”

“Hmm…”

“The day before yesterday, I slept like a log, and yesterday I was writing that damn report till midnight,” Reyn explained. “Just take two days off.”

Goten chuckled. “Yeah, I figured it was something like that.” Reyn giving him excuses only confirmed his conviction that the flight officer hated to feel indebted. The tea was probably also a form of thanks and apology. Goten found himself liking that. “Did the captain accept your report?”

Reyn lifted his eyes from his coffee. Goten had read it. He wouldn’t be asking that if he hadn’t. The only copy was lying on the captain’s desk. He had sent the digital copy to the captain only an hour ago. There had been not enough time for Goten to have laid eyes on it.

Adriel had access to his computer.

Damn fucker. He was going to take that idiot by his balls and give him a good shake. And then threaten to tear them off. And then also threaten to report him to the captain. And then just beat the crap out of him. And after that, maybe he really would write that report, depending on how pissed off he was.

The flight officer’s face told him everything and Goten groaned. Berating himself for his stupidity, he shook his head. “It’s not really his fault. I was very persistent. I practically demanded it of him.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that he broke into my terminal.” Reyn sipped his coffee. He snorted. “Yeah, he still feels guilty about the incident in the showers. He’ll be dancing to your tune for quite some time. Serves him right.”

Goten lowered his mug onto the desk. He rotated the chair to one side, then another, then spun around with it slowly. He still didn’t remember much from the showers. He doubted he ever would; something had short-circuited in his brain when he took that fall.

“Your forehead’s almost healed now,” Reyn said, catching glimpses of the third-class’s brow while he was spinning around. “The eye too.”

Goten stopped whirling. “You too. Aren’t you healing pretty fast too?” He had noticed this only after the flight officer returned from the pirate ship and commented on Goten’s wounds. Once he had done that, Goten had started paying more attention to Reyn’s bruises. The flight officer’s hair had gotten considerably longer as well. Wasn’t it growing a little too fast?

“Am I?” Reyn wondered. “Doubt it.”

Goten shrugged. He took his mug again. It had finally cooled down to the point where he could drink it without scalding his tongue. He took a large gulp. “Does someone cut hair on board?”

“Mm? Why, interested? Does your hair grow long?”

“No. Actually, it’s pretty short.”

“Ah, the kind which looks as if you were struck by lightning?”

Goten laughed. “Yeah, you could say that. What about yours?”

“Grows to my waist. A pain in the ass.”

The third-class stared at Reyn, trying to imagine him with long hair. The picture didn’t connect. “Hm. So do you cut it yourself?”

“No. Mostly it’s Sildara. Mirun is pretty good at it too. Actually, I have a trimmer, so in the worst case, I just give myself a buzz cut.”

“I see.” Then Goten remembered. “Ah.”

“What?”

“Do you have scissors? My toenails grew long and I don’t know how to cut them.”

Reyn gave him a look. “You’re in a medical room. Just get anything sharp.” He pointed at a cabinet on the wall. “Should find something there.”

Goten pushed his mug aside, stood up, and walked over to the cabinet to open it. Indeed, there were boxes with instruments inside. “But they use these for operations, don’t they?”

“The disinfectant is over there.”

Goten picked up a small pair of scissors. He inspected them, then shrugged and returned to his chair. They probably had ten more pairs of scissors like that. He pulled his boots and socks off. Reyn watched him bend and start cutting his toenails. Goten was careful not to let them shoot all over the room.

“You have nice feet,” Reyn said after watching him work for a couple of minutes.

Goten took a closer look at his feet. He wriggled his toes. “Huh,” he wondered. Nothing special about them; absolutely normal feet with overgrown toenails. “Thanks, I suppose.” Did Reyn have some kind of strange foot fetish? The third-class concentrated back on his task.

Reyn watched him with a suppressed grin. He emptied the last of his coffee and set the mug next to him on the operating table. “I’ve been meaning to ask you… What the hell happened to Monteira’s cat?”

“Ah, the cat.” Goten wanted to ask Reyn why he was asking him, but then realized that the flight officer had seen him mess around with the cat’s collar. Reyn had probably decided that he was responsible for all of Mister Elite’s misfortunes. The third-class sighed. It was pretty close to the truth.

“You know he stinks, so I tried to wash him.”

“Tried?”

“Well, he escaped. There was an explosion of sorts.”

“You mean you powered up?”

“Yeah.”

Reyn chuckled. “Damn, wish I’d seen that.”

The third-class rolled his eyes. “Well, nobody warned me.”

“I don’t think they knew.”

“Then why do you know?”

“Think.”

Goten gave him an incredulous look. “No way.”

“Yeah. It probably went exactly the same as it went for you. All I remember is an electroshock and him suddenly turning into a sparkly ball.”

The third-class nodded. “Yeah, pretty much the same.” He laughed. “At least now I don’t feel like such an idiot anymore. Adriel peed his pants laughing.”

“He’d also pee his pants if you showed him a novelty button; he laughs at practically anything.”

“True enough.” Goten finished cutting his toenails, then looked around for a bin. He spotted one in the corner and threw the nails away. He put his socks and shoes back on and started ransacking the cupboard for disinfectant. Once found, he put it to good use, pouring it over the scissors and his hands.

The third-class returned everything back into the cabinet and took Tamahi’s chair again. He drank the rest of his tea and set his empty mug back on the tray. “Thanks for the tea.”

Reyn shrugged. “Any chance you’ll get out of here soon? I’d like to have a spar with you.”

“I don’t really know. We were supposed to make a schedule for taking turns, but last time I saw those two bastards was five hours ago.”

“I see. Well,” the flight officer said, sliding off the operating table, “find me when you’re free.” He picked up his mug and approached the desk to take the tray.

“Sure thing.”

Goten held a mop in front of him, swished it this way and that, and couldn’t help laughing. Telling himself to get serious, he schooled his face into a neutral expression. It wasn’t his fault that they had no swords in the weapon storage. But still… He burst out laughing again when the mop’s rag ends shook and sprang around in a wild dance. He had tried separating the fluffy end from the staff, but then realized that, once he did that, there would be no way to reassemble it as it was. It was either break it or leave it.

Nonetheless, the third-class’s amusement soon started turning into annoyance. There was no balance at all and it felt absolutely different from holding a sword. He tossed the mop and flopped down onto the ground to think. Could he find any other substitute? All he needed was a simple stick. He thought for a while, but nothing came to his mind. In the end, he’d probably have to break the mop.

Oh.

Why didn’t he go and ask whether the technicians had something similar? Maybe they would even have a steel bar or two! They tended to all kinds of pipes and tubes after all.

Goten grabbed the mop, chucked the end of the stick into an imaginary enemy’s stomach, then turned sideways and whopped into the invisible guy’s head behind him with the other end. Content with the mop’s last performance, he turned towards the door. He faltered when he saw the head engineer and Reyn watching him with curious expressions on their faces from the doorway.

“What are you doing?” Reyn asked.

“Umm… Mopping the floor?” Goten offered uncertainly. There was some kind of guarded interest on Nohail’s face. He wasn’t sure he liked that kind of curiosity.

Nohail looked at the ground. It was dirty indeed. The air felt somehow dusty too. “Need a real sword for practice?” he asked.

Goten perked up. “You have one?” he asked hopefully, but with an unconcealed suspicion in his voice.

“Sure. How about we have a spar?”

Reyn gave Nohail a look. What was with the man? They had come here for a spar and now he was bailing out on him. Well, whatever. There wasn’t much fun in sparring with Nohail anyway; he always had to hold back.

“With swords?” Goten wanted to make certain.

“What else?”

“Okay.”

The head engineer went to his cabin to get the swords. Reyn settled against a wall to wait for his return. He didn’t believe this whim for swordplay would last long, thus he expected to end his day with a productive spar with Goten. He was a little disappointed that, instead of finding him, Goten had intended to use his free time waving a stick around.

“Are you any good at swords?” he asked Goten, who was poking at visible clusters of dust on the ground, raising them into the air, making an even bigger mess.

The third-class leaned on his mop. “Better than some, I suppose.”

“Are you?” Reyn wondered. Sword-training courses at his officer school, just like at any other officer school, were obligatory. However, he hadn’t been interested in them at all, and later he passed the piloting test, which gave him the privilege of dropping two other courses of his own choice. He had somehow managed to pass the first course in sword-play and never took up the second one. Good riddance.

“How long were you at Hataro Officer Training School?”

“Half a year.”

“Huh.” He sometimes forgot how young Goten was. He looked young, younger than anyone else on board, but once you got used to that, there was hardly anything else to remind you of his age. He had quick wits and was a formidable opponent. Sometimes his inexperience and naivety in certain areas showed, or he acted uncertain, but this was only natural. In fact, Goten acted more mature than a few fifty-year-olds on the ship.

Both of them turned to the door where Nohail appeared with two swords .

Goten observed the blades. A simple but impressive design. He wasn’t familiar with the type, which slightly surprised him. The head engineer walked closer to Goten and held out one for him to take. Both swords looked the same: one-handed, made of some kind of dark metal which had a murky yellow shade. The handles were unusually elongated, the narrow blades also long, thus, if desired, they could probably be used as two-handed swords if one lacked strength.

The third-class took the sword. It was heavy, but the hilt was comfortable, wrapped in a sturdy black cloth. The guard was dark yellow, meaning that the alloy was slightly different than that of the blade. Both ends of the guard were decorated with three small petal-like stubs.

“What kind of sword is this?” Goten asked, hefting it in his palm. “Have never seen it before.”

“Custom-made. Yours is called Hadrian. Mine is Summer.”

“Oh? Hadrian’s Summer? Is this the name of the smith? How do you know which is which?”

“Yes, the smith’s named Hadrian. I think it’s one of his best works. The handles. They are wrapped a bit differently. It’s hard to notice,” Nohail said when Goten started inspecting the handle of his sword.

“Where did you order them? They must have cost a fortune.”

“They were a gift.”

“I see.” Goten wanted to ask whether Nohail could at least tell him their planet of origin, but then decided not to push it any further. For some reason, it seemed that Nohail didn’t like talking about his swords, which was a strange thing in itself.

Without further ado, the third-class moved to the middle of the training room for a warm-up.

From his comfortable spot at the wall, Reyn leisurely observed Goten’s preparations. He turned to Nohail, who was also watching the third-class. “Not that I understand much, but he seems to be pretty good at handling a sword, mm? What do you think?”

“Too good. You can’t learn that at officer schools. Especially not in six months. Somebody had been teaching him prior to that. Someone who is damn good.”

Reyn gave him a searching look. The head engineer knew something. “Any guesses who it might be?”

Nohail swished his sword about. “I have an idea or two.”

“Oh? Care to share?”

“Not just yet,” Nohail said, moving forward until he had enough space for a warm-up. From the look of it, this intended to be an interesting fight. At first, he could feel Goten’s eyes on him, evaluating, then the youth concentrated back on his own exercises.

“Are you going to fight or what?” Reyn complained five minutes later. “I still want to have a spar with one of you after you’re done.”

“Do we power up as usual so as not to cut ourselves?” Goten asked. “What’s the limit?”

“A thousand’s fine,” Nohail said, moving to face the third-class. He tensed as a sudden blast of force from Goten swept the dust away from them. There was no visible change in the youth otherwise. He hadn’t even strained to summon his energy. Nohail found himself wondering what Reyn thought of this. Probably nothing much. A thousand was usually only a fifth or a fourth of what a grown-up second-class male could handle.

The head engineer attacked first, bringing his sword sideways, aiming for Goten’s ribs. Goten’s blade went down, parrying him. Then his sword suddenly rose, forcing Nohail’s blade upwards as well, pushing him back. The head engineer grunted as the third-class’s foot connected with his chest, tossing him back. Falling, he slashed at Goten, but his sword didn’t reach.

Just before trying to soften his fall, Nohail realized just how much he had underestimated the kid. Goten just stood there, motionless, his calculating eyes watching him. The change was startling. Was this how Reyn felt sparring with him? This was fun, not to mention very, very interesting.

The third-class parried his next attack, their swords screeching against each other. Reyn could swear he could see sparks flying. Goten shoved, and Nohail had to jump back or risk Goten slashing at his stomach in a backhand stroke. The head engineer swung his sword again, but Goten stepped aside. Nohail felt the youth’s boot slam into his ribs. He stumbled sideways, but caught himself before falling. He turned, his sword cleaving the air in a wide arc, but Goten wasn’t there.

Goten swept at Nohail, his sword aiming right at the head engineer’s neck. Nohail blocked, diverted Goten’s blade aside, and tried to shove the end of his sword into Goten’s chest, but the third-class dropped himself to the floor so fast that he didn’t even have time to react. The next thing Nohail knew, his feet were swept from under him and he crashed down on his side. He nearly skewered himself with his own sword. This was frustrating to say the least.

“He’s simply too fast for you,” Reyn shouted to Nohail after reading irritation on his face. “Too strong too. He’s just kicking you around.” Of course the head engineer knew that himself, but this was hard to watch. Reyn knew that Nohail was considered a capable swordsman. Not first-rate, but good. Goten was obviously good as well, but skill didn’t have much to do with what was going on right now – Nohail was able to handle neither Goten’s speed nor the strength of his blows. Even an elite would have a hard time keeping up.

“Then do you want to try?” Nohail spat angrily.

Reyn chuckled. “Only if it doesn’t include swords; he’d skewer me in a second.”

“Then shut the hell up!”

The flight officer laughed. “Okay.”

Goten parried Nohail’s attack and, almost ashamed, shoved at the man’s chest with his left palm. It was not as if he needed only one hand for holding the sword; he almost certainly needed both hands to withstand the pressure. The thing was, he knew that he was fast enough to remove one hand from the hilt, and Nohail wouldn’t have enough time to react.

Reyn sighed at the sight of the head engineer getting up from the floor. “Didn’t think I’d ever see that,” he muttered.

“Maybe I should power down a little?” Goten suggested.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Reyn snorted. “You might get cut.”

Goten protested, “It’s only five hundred we need to not get cut.” He decided not to say that, more than once, he and his partners sparred without powering up at all. It had been reckless but fun. The duel he and the prince had was one of the best in his life.

“Five hundred is just the required minimum,” Reyn said. “If, for some reason, his ki suddenly fluctuates, rising…let’s say to six or seven hundred, he’ll cut you and your damn sword in half.”

“He knows that even better than you, Reyn,” Nohail said. He gave Goten a reproachful look for even suggesting such a suicidal idea. There was also the possibility of him powering up even more while Goten stayed at a thousand. He used to do this quite a lot, years ago. It didn’t seem that the kid realized this possibility, which showed that he'd mostly had partners of equal standing. Sparring against a much slower and less powerful companion was a novelty to him.

The third-class scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “How about I fight the two of you?” he suggested.

Reyn burst out laughing. “And now he’s getting all cocky.”

Goten gave him a look. He was happy to be wielding a sword again, but the gap between he and Nohail was too big. It was just… He could make two moves before Nohail made one.

“Why don’t you power up, Nohail?” Reyn suggested. “If Goten stays at a thousand and you double your power level, it should work; a thousand should still be sufficient to keep the blade from connecting.”

“Oh! That’s right!” Goten exclaimed, excited. “That’s how I did it with my brother!”

Nohail lowered his sword. “Your brother?” This was…rather unexpected.

“Yeah. I’d power up more while he’d stay at a thousand. Forgot it completely!”

“Was it your brother who taught you?”

Goten nodded.

“What’s his name?”

Now Goten was regretting opening his mouth because the head engineer seemed to be dying with curiosity. He didn’t like talking about Gohan. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Reyn was no less interested.

“Gohan Bardock.”

“Mmm.” The name didn’t sound familiar, which Nohail found disappointing. He realized he hadn’t been able to keep this disappointment off his face as he noticed Goten staring at him, confused by his reaction. Then he saw the youngster’s eyes widen. The head engineer cursed at himself mentally.

“Who did you think it was?”

Both Nohail and Goten turned towards Reyn. Nohail threw him a reproachful look for butting into other people’s business. Reyn shrugged at him. The head engineer scowled. He was aware of the expectant look in the newbie’s eyes. This was one of those times when he wanted to whack Reyn over his head with something heavy.

“I thought that it might be our mutual acquaintance,” Nohail said.

If Goten hadn’t been absolutely certain at first, now it became glaringly obvious. “You mean the shaii from my officer training school?” he asked, whirling his sword around by its hilt, the tip fixed on the floor. His voice was calm, indifferent even. In fact, he wasn’t certain whether to be annoyed, concerned, or shocked by the head engineer’s presumptions. Who the hell had he just thought his brother was? Or what exactly did he think was going on between him and the prince?

A fucking joke.

“I was solely taught by my brother. Who is not the shaii,” Goten added for a good measure, just out of spite. “Whom I’m not related to at all.”

Besides a slight nod, Nohail was silent, and the third-class shifted uncomfortably, wishing to close the topic as soon as possible. Well, of course there was a relation between him and the prince. Why would a Vegeta have phoned Nohail otherwise? Goten was quite thankful to the head engineer for not bothering to point this out. Maybe he would do that later, when they were alone, face to face. Goten suddenly lost all interest in their sparring.

“He’s older than you, I presume?”

Goten opened his mouth and nearly asked which one Reyn meant, his brother or the prince. He let out a row of mental curses. Well, this was a blunder, the whole situation, but at least now he knew who the prince’s informant on the ship was. And Nohail knew that he knew. The situation had somehow diffused and then reloaded itself anew.

The third-class rubbed over his forehead. “Was,” he muttered. “Gohan died four years ago. I was fourteen and he sixteen at the time.”

“Oh.” The head engineer nodded in sympathy. “Very young. What happened?”

Goten’s lips pressed into a thin line. “An accident during training. At least that’s what we were told.”

“You don’t seem to be certain about that,” Reyn stated.

Nohail didn’t even bother to turn his head. The flight officer’s straightforwardness was sometimes cruel to the point. Most of the time it was intentional too. Reyn didn’t like beating around the bush.

Goten didn’t say anything. He felt he had already said too much. He held out his sword for the head engineer. “Thanks. I think that’s enough for today.”

It was clear that no amount of persuasion to continue their spar would be effective, and Nohail took the sword from Goten without a word. There was one more question he wanted to voice, but he wasn’t certain he should. So far, the youth’s reaction to the inquiries about his brother had been unambiguous – he hated talking about him.

“I was wondering,” the head engineer started tentatively. “Seeing how Gohan was very young when he started teaching you, I was wondering who taught him swordplay.”

Goten stared at Nohail for a few long seconds. He exhaled suddenly. He had no idea. The matter had never occurred to him. “At school?” he offered doubtfully, even though he knew that nobody took swordplay seriously at preparatory school, and, at the end of paramilitary school, just before graduation, all they had were about fifteen lessons of practice. It was very likely that Gohan never even got to that. Sometimes, Gohan would bring people over to spar at home, but none of them actually taught his brother anything useful. It was mostly the other way round.

“Well, maybe there was a lecturer who was a hardcore swordsman and decided to teach him after catching a glimpse of talent in him,” Reyn offered. “What?” he asked at the sight of two uncertain faces. “There are weirdoes like that. Swordplay is not popular, even frowned upon. So maybe seeing how your brother liked it, he decided to impart his knowledge on him.”

The third-class scratched the back of his head. Hell knew. It had never occurred to him to ask. Well, was it even important? Shrugging, Goten turned in the direction of the door. His step faltered when something clicked. He looked around for the source of the sound.

“An emergency meeting. All personnel, come to the meeting hall at once. I repeat, an emergency meeting. All personnel, come to the meeting hall immediately. Out.”

Goten blinked at the speaker under the plastic pane. What was this about? He continued walking to the door briskly, Reyn and Nohail in tow.

Since the training room was right next to the meeting hall, they were the first to arrive. The captain motioned for them to sit down. In a minute, everyone was present except for the medic, who was keeping watch over the two patients in the medical room.

“We’ve received a distress signal from a passenger ship in our quadrant. Coordinates 32:51. It seems they were attacked by Domera more than 96 hours ago, not long before we captured them. Upon leaving the ship, the pirates wrecked their main computer. They have been drifting in open space since then and, only now, finally managed to fix their radios. There are many dead and wounded on board. It’s not clear how many survivors there are as, soon after we received the message, the connection broke off again. We’ll be sending in a rescue team in ten minutes. Any volunteers?”

“Is that a Human ship?”

The captain looked at Reyn. The flight officer was known not to be particularly fond of Humans. He nodded. “Yes. I believe there are mostly Humans on board.”

Reyn thought for a moment. Then his hand rose. “Well, whatever. Count me in.”

“Me too,” Tamahi followed.

“I’m afraid you didn’t have a choice in the matter in the first place,” the captain said. “You’re our only doctor and there are wounded on their board.”

“That’s why I volunteered,” the doctor said cheerfully. “Makes it all better, doesn’t it?”

The captain chuckled. He became uncertain when Edesha’s hand rose. “Shouldn’t you take it easy for a few weeks?” he asked, meaning the soldier’s arm in sling and other various injuries.

“It’s just a rescue mission,” Edesha said. “I can carry three Humans with my uninjured arm. Tested and approved.”

“His pockets can carry five more!” somebody shouted.

Laughter broke out in the meeting hall.

“Okay, okay, have it your way,” the captain said, shushing everyone. “Anyone else? We’ll need a team of four people. It’s an ORION 3056, so it’s a pretty large ship to search through.”

Goten’s hand shot up like lightning. “Me!” he yelled. “I want to go!”

Startled, the captain looked at him. “Hmm… I’m glad that you’re so enthusiastic, but you haven’t ever been outside a spaceship, have you? It’s not a risk I want to take.”

Goten waved his hand in the air violently, nearly falling out of his chair. “What risk? There’s no risk! I go and come back with others! I don’t even need any training for this! I just look for the living and bring them to our shuttle! Easy as pie!”

The third-class realized he had been shouting. The crew was staring at him with unconcealed surprise on their faces. He waved his hand even more persistently to prove his point.

“Hm.” The captain turned to the flight officer to see what he thought of having the newbie on his team. “Reyn?”

“I don’t mind.”

Goten suddenly felt he could grab and kiss Reyn right there and now. Grinning, he dropped his hand back to his side.

“So we have our team. Now, this is Orion’s layout,” the captain said, motioning for the backup captain to distribute handouts. “I’m certain you’re all familiar with it. Well, except maybe Goten.

“As said, their main computer doesn’t function properly, thus you’ll have to open all the doors manually. Rokunda has been granted access and has downloaded the master passwords. Here they are. As you see, they are mostly the same for all the doors.”

“How reckless,” Adriel said.

“Yes, but it’s much easier to handle. Especially in cases like these,” the captain countered. “Anyway, there must also be a master key somewhere, but we don’t know where they keep it or whether it’s still on board. It might have been taken by the pirates for all we know.

“Your task is to rescue the living, just as Goten said. Don’t touch anything else. We’ve contacted Human patrols and, once they are here, they will deal with the ship according to their protocols.

“Any questions? No? Good. Go to the weapon store and get armed. You’re leaving in two minutes.”

Goten and the rest of the team shot to their feet and ran towards the door. In the weapon store, the third-class grabbed a scouter first, fixed it over his right eye, then started putting on armor. Once done, they ran to the runway. Their shuttle blasted off five seconds after they belted themselves to their chairs on the captain’s bridge. Overtaken by an irrational fear of them crashing into something, Goten closed his eyes when they were leaving the hangar. A few seconds later, he opened one eye to see that they had left the hangar and were speeding away from Starcut.

Blankly, Goten stared through the windshield. Everything had happened so fast: the announcement, him volunteering, him putting armor on. He was on a shuttle. He suddenly found it hard to process it all. While the distance between the mother ship and the shuttle was increasing, his thoughts were whirling in a frenzy.

Gripping at the armrests of his seat restlessly, Goten stared in front of him with unseeing eyes. And he suddenly felt like laughing.

What had he done?

What the fuck had he done?!

Now he was suspended in limbo between life and death, just like the rest of them.

What should he do? What could he do?

He couldn’t just tell them what he had dreamt. Nobody would believe him, or worse, they’d think he had gone insane. In addition to that, dismissing orders would get him court-martialed.

The thing was, however… The thing was that he had a rare gift and he had to use it, for better or worse. He hadn’t known what would happen to Toharu, not consciously. If he allowed these people to die now, with certainty, everything would have been in vain: all of what had happened to him up until this moment in his life would be meaningless. He could at least try to save some of them by any means possible.

There wasn’t even a question: he either took matters into his own hands, or all of them were going to die. This deadly danger was now, it was real. Later…later they could hate, imprison, call him an imbecile, have him court-martialed, anything, for all he cared. He would know he had chosen the right thing to do. Even if he didn’t succeed, he would prefer to die, or live with the knowledge that he had tried his best, instead of sitting on his ass resigned to fate.

Fate. Didn’t he deliberately climb into this shuttle to change it, after all? Really, he had known the answer all along.

Goten started unbuckling his belts. Reyn’s eyes were drawn to the blinking lamp indicating that someone didn’t have their seat belt on and he turned around to look at the third-class.

“Where the hell are you going?”

Ignoring the question, Goten walked over to the flight officer. “How fast are we flying?”

The flight officer gave him a look. The steely expression on the youngster’s face made him frown. “It’s full speed. Why?”

Shaken, his eyes glued to the blinking dot on Reyn’s screen, Goten stood still as if rooted into the floor. He had intended to make Reyn go at full speed: if they arrived at Orion faster, then they would have more time on the spaceship before it exploded. However, in the dream, they probably had flown at the same speed as they were flying now.

In shocked silence, the third-class returned to his seat and belted himself to it again. If the speed stayed the same, and the time of their arrival stayed the same as in his dream, did his presence here change anything at all? Maybe the dream had been a warning for him not to climb into the shuttle? To preserve his own life? Had he done exactly what he had been warned not to do?

Don’t get killed.

The prince’s words echoed in Goten’s head, loud in their finality. The third-class felt like laughing again. Was this hysteria approaching?

Watch me now.

TBC




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