Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Errant Exile ❯ Opening Bids ( Chapter 24 )

From Chapter 22:

A strong hand gripped her shoulder. “Khri, what is it? What’s wrong? You’re as pale as a ghost and you’re shaking! Do you want me to contact Piccolo?”

“No! No, don’t! It’s . . .”

The man lowered his head, reached up and pulled the sunglasses down his nose, revealing a pair of glowing amber eyes.

It’s Sai!

“Errant Exile”

Chapter 23: “Opening Bids”

Gohan’s grip on Khri’s shoulder tightened. He followed her stare into the opposite stands. “Are you absolutely sure about this?”

“Yes! But . . . no!” She clenched her fists to keep her hands from shaking. Her emotions rolled and pitched, battering her thoughts and reawakening the deep ache she wanted to forget.

Sai replaced his sunglasses and remained next to the pillar, waiting calmly. There had been no smile, no wave, no sign of welcome when he’d made eye contact. He’d always been a master when it came to controlling his facial expressions, but Khri couldn’t ignore the cold knot in her stomach insisting something was wrong. “Gohan, I don’t know. He looks just like Sai, but something doesn’t feel right.” She fought back the shock so she could think. “I know of only two species that can shape change. The first could never survive Earth’s gravity and the second is microscopic!”

“Can you sense him? Like I can sense my brother, Piccolo, and others who use chi?”

Khri’s eyes never left Sai’s impassive face. “Under normal conditions, yes, but not if we don’t keep our emotions in check. My control isn’t very good right now, but we were a team for so long I should be able to sense something, even if he’s intentionally suppressing his shield.” She shook her head tightly. “I’m not feeling anything from him.”

“Is it possible Sai could have made it to Earth?” Gohan asked, his voice hesitating. “I don’t know all the details of what happened to your people, but could he have survived? Maybe he’s been here all this time but had to stay in hiding, and only now thinks it’s safe to contact you.”

Sai – or the man that could have been his identical twin – nodded respectfully at a woman who’d accidentally bumped his arm. She whirled to glare at him for a moment over her thick glasses, then steadied her grip on a box of drinks and walked away. Sai casually looked around before resuming his quiet vigil, his face still expressionless. “I could believe he would wait until it was safe to contact me, but the odds of him surviving the destruction of the Aughenai . . . ” Khri swallowed the threat of tears. “Sai had sworn to serve my replacement, Commander Ahtai, with the same loyalty he showed me. He loved the Aughenai and would have fought to his death for her.”

An unexpected thought poked painfully at her heart. Would Sai have deserted if he felt I was personally in danger? He knows if I found out such a thing I’d kill him myself! There must be another reason! “I want to believe it’s him, Gohan, but . . . wait! I’ve got an idea.”

Khri tugged on her jacket collar. The gesture was one of a set of subtle signals they’d devised and used over the years. Rubbing one eye with the opposite hand, scratching the bridge of the nose, a sustained blink, all had meaning far greater than a simple movement. The collar tug was shorthand for “everything checks,” and always required a quick response.

Sai continued to watch her but stood completely still. Lack of a response had never been a proper signal! Khri gritted her teeth. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m not going to find out what it is by sitting here.” When Gohan gasped, she added, “give me until the end of intermission. That’s more than twenty minutes. If I’m not back here by then, tell Piccolo. Tell him everything.” Eyes never leaving Sai’s emotionless face, she stood up. The distant figure responded by straightening his posture to a more attentive stance.

Gohan’s voice hardened but remained concerned. “Khri, if something goes wrong, you know we can’t track you using chi. This place is so crowded, it could take hours to find you . . . ”

“I understand, Gohan, and I’m not being foolish.” She checked her watch, then reached into her jacket and pulled the zippered pocket open. “Twenty minutes,” she said, making sure her diacha was loose in the pocket and ready if needed. “If I don’t make it back, tell Piccolo to check the concessions stand where he first met Sai.” She couldn’t hold back a grim smile. “Tell him it hasn’t changed in thirty years. He’ll know the one.”

Gohan edged closer. His dark eyes were full of compassion and worry beneath his frown. “Khri, for your sake I hope things turn out the way you want them to, but . . . “ His voice trailed off, his face twisting through what looked like sadness, regret or both. He seemed to be struggling, holding back what he really wanted to say. “Be careful,” he sighed at last.

Khri nodded at the heartfelt but unnecessary reminder. A quick glance up confirmed Sai was still there, waiting patiently. It won’t take twenty minutes to find out the truth, she promised herself as she walked through the empty bleachers toward the broad stairs. Possibilities ticked themselves off one by one with each step upward. Is he being watched? What took him so long to make contact with me, especially since he had coordinates to my house? The lack of a response to her collar tug worried her more than his blank stare. She reached the top of the stairs and had to shoulder through lines of people waiting for snacks, souvenirs or the washrooms. A bump to her bruised arm sent a shockwave of pain up through her elbow and sparked a new theory. Could it be he’s been injured? That would explain why he looks paler and thinner than the last time I saw him!

Sai’s height made it easier to watch him move through the crowd. Always confident, Sai’s gait always had a smooth motion that was deceptively casual and Khri knew the swing of his warrior’s queue by heart. It didn’t take long to realize his walk was awkward, the motion of his back and shoulders uneven. That could mean he is injured, she thought, searching for signs of a limp. The longer she followed Sai and the thinner the crowd became, the more convinced she grew that Sai’s injury was either very serious or she was trailing a fraud and walking into a trap. His movements were stiff and mechanical, reminding Khri of a sophisticated toy. She bit her lower lip, gratefully feeling her diacha resting against her ribcage inside her jacket as she followed Sai through a set of heavy metal doors and down a flight of service stairs.

Cool air, free from the scents of overcooked hot dogs and stale beer, made Khri shiver underneath her jacket. Sai had led her to an empty service area for small vehicles where the floor was undergoing substantial repairs. A long swath of yellow caution tape laced back and forth between two thick pillars flanking the walkway. Piles of broken concrete, twisted steel rods and a locked cage of tools littered the floor and clustered around a large section of exposed pipe. Water seeped from a broken seam, forming a tiny river that snaked its way beneath a line of parked utility carts. Feeling more and more like a rodent being led into a cage, Khri eyed the shadows for unexpected company.

The distant drumbeat stopped. A quick glance at her watch confirmed her fears; she’d spent too much time following what could be Sai. The pounding resumed at a faster pace as the band started their next number. Sai’s wooden gait never slowed as he marched past the vehicles and headed for another set of doors.

Khri reached inside her jacket. This has gone on long enough. Sai, if it is you, I’ll try not to injure you further. I’m sorry. I know you’ll forgive me.

Sai’s reaction was too slow for an experienced warrior. He made no move to defend himself when Khri slammed him into the concrete door jamb from behind, spun him around and rammed the dark end of her diacha into his neck below his chin. Her sore arm twinged painfully as she pinned him against the wall, but her gasp had nothing to do with her injury.

Fierce stings from thousands of invisible needles pricked her arms and chest, making it hard to breathe. What felt like a live current was painful to the point she had to fight her own instincts to not let him go. He didn’t struggle, didn’t try to escape. In another moment he won’t need to, Khri admitted, feeling a slow, numbing sensation leech through her arms and seep into her ribs and lungs. She strained to keep her grip on her diacha. “Who . . . who are you?” she gasped.

“Battle Commander, it is good to see you again! I do not wish you to experience pain, so would you please release me?” The voice wasn’t Sai’s. It was soft and controlled, underscored by a low burbling no Leonid vocal cords could make, and totally unaffected by her weapon jammed into its’ throat.

Khri jerked her arms away and took a faltering step backward. Numbness vanished instantly and she hugged herself tightly, staring wild-eyed at the stranger wearing Sai’s face. Disappointment stung only for a moment, swept aside by shock and recognition. She found herself unable to move as fear’s ruthless grip squeezed her lungs and sapped the strength from her legs. No! Not here, not now! Her head spun, trying to wring words from her broken thoughts until a memory crept out of the farthest, darkest corner of her mind. “Puh . . . Pym? Is . . . is that you?”

The man bowed stiffly, arms at his side. “Yes, Battle Commander. I extend formal condolences from my Emperor on your great loss.” His eyes closed in a slow blink and the bow deepened.

She took a long, shaky breath. Focus, dammit! Focus on the formalities and not your feelings, they’re not important right now! A trembling hand slid her diacha back into her pocket. “Pym . . . why are you here? And why do you look like Sai?” A new thought intruded with the force of a needed, hard slap. “How are you here?” she asked in genuine surprise. “Pym, you’re aquatic! You shouldn’t be off Brioux!” How can you . . .”

The bland face twisted into an exaggerated expression of distress. “I am so sorry, Battle Commander, but before I can explain I must do this . . .” His hand reached for his belt where a small, red light flickered. Heart slamming against her breastbone, Khri took another step backward and braced herself against the concrete wall.

Pym’s form blurred. Lines and colors bled into one another as his image ballooned to nearly twice Khri’s height. The mass settled into shades of grey and lavender before snapping back into focus, revealing Pym’s true shape.

A drop of cold sweat slid down Khri’s cheek. Great Kaio-Shin . . . they were horrors in the water and now they’re out. . . gods help me . . .

Pym’s tentacles waved in deep distress. “I am so sorry, Battle Commander,” he burbled, his voice slightly distorted by the elaborate, liquid-filled mask that covered his hideous face. “I had hoped to avoid shutting down the web, but it took longer to make contact with you than I had originally anticipated.”

Curiosity nibbled at the edges of Khri’s fear. “You . . . you perfected the camouflage web?” She managed to muster a weak smile to hide her shiver. “I knew you would . . . it was only a matter of time.”

The huge Briaoux reared back in surprise. Several tentacles thrashed in excitement, leaving paths of thick slime. “It’s far from perfect, Battle Commander! We are having difficulty coordinating the expression controls and the reliability of the motion mimicry module is only rated at eighty-two percent.” A trio of smaller tentacles Brioux used as fingers gave the edge of his breather mask a quick rap. “My technicians have done a remarkable job in so little time, but this is still just a prototype and needs a great deal of improvement. I would not have turned off the web except it requires excessive amounts of power that cannot be immediately reclaimed.” Pym slumped a bit, his excited waving less animated.

Khri stared up at the Brioux scientist she hadn’t seen in over half an Earth century. She suddenly realized why Sai’s image had looked so pale and thin; he’d been recovering from a nasty battle injury when they’d been diverted to Brioux. Images of a weakened Sai were the only ones they had on record as a reference. Pym’s thick skin was coated with unnatural slime and his normally vibrant purple skin had faded to dark lavender. Planet Brioux was covered in water, letting its dominant sentient race glide through the depths with the grace of a dancer in zero gravity. Their horrific appearance masked a people that were gentle, brilliant, and had served as allies of the Leonids since their first meeting. No! Don’t think about that day! Now is not the time to remember! She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, then noticed the thick belt strapped around Pym’s middle below his mask. It supported a bulky power unit and a backup oxygenator. Tiny receptors and projectors had been positioned all over his body underneath the slime. “You have to conserve power,” she said softly. “If you don’t, then you won’t have enough to get back to your ship. You’ll die here.”

Pym rolled his violet eyes, the Brioux equivalent of a blink. “I am glad you understand, Battle Commander. My Emperor instructed me that in no way was I to . . . to distress you . . . if it could be avoided.”

Khri squeezed her eyes shut during the duration of another formal bow, feeling her heart pound against the flat of her palm. “I thank His Highness for his thoughtfulness, but I’m no longer a Battle Commander. Please just call me Khri or, if you prefer a formal title, Dorhanhai.” The realization that Pym, a very conservative creature even among his own people, had undertaken an incredibly risky action just to speak with her, prompted another question. “Whatever possessed you to come to Earth must be important,” she said quietly.

“Indeed it is, Dorhanhai. We had no way of reaching you with a secure transmission, and we could not find a courier our Emperor felt trustworthy enough to deliver the message we needed to send. We have a small fleet of reliable ships now, so it was decided I would use the prototype web and bring the message personally.” Pym’s tentacles began twitching, an action Khri knew meant he was nervous. “Once we had located you, we were reluctant to approach. We were uncertain if the large green man who lives on your roof was a threat, and we didn’t have time for a thorough surveillance.”

It was Khri’s turn to be startled. “What? You’ve been to my home? How were you able to locate me with such accuracy?”

Pym appeared to shrink. His skin grew even more grey and he stilled. “Dorhanhai, that is one of the reasons I am here. I came to warn you . . . you’ve been implanted with a Paracelsus tracker.”

The fast, rhythmic pounding of an amplified bass drum vibrated through the floor but Khri couldn’t hear it. Blood drained from her face and rushed through her ears, beating its own frantic rhythm. “A . . . Paracelsus tracker?” She reached backward, digging her fingers into the wall for support as her knees weakened. “No . . . how? When?”

“We cannot be certain. While our source was questionable the information was not.” One tentacle swept a small device from his belt and extended it to her. Khri’s shaky hand closed around the sensor, not feeling the slime that dripped through her fingers as she stared at the blinking light on the tiny screen. She couldn’t read Brioux but in this case she didn’t need to. When?! When did they get the chance to implant me and who was the traitor? “Who else is tracking me, Pym?”

His soft voice lowered further. “When I left Brioux, it was known that at least two competing parties possessed the tracker’s signal key, but since we obtained it there are undoubtedly more.” A flutter of bubbles fizzed inside Pym’s mask as he sighed. “Now that you are no longer protected by the Triumvirate and the Leonid fleet, your enemies are eagerly offering large sums of money for your capture. There are several . . . er . . . ‘customers’ currently engaged in a bidding war started by the survivors of the Zanova Imperiorship.”

Khri scowled up at Pym. “How much?”

“Ten million standard credits. Before I left Brioux the bid had been raised to twenty-three million credits by the Circle of Shenta.”

“The Shenta!” Khri snarled, stepping away from the wall. “Surveillance told me we’d completely eradicated those parasites! Dammit!” She raked her fingers back through her bangs. “Don’t those idiots realize they could buy two, possibly three planets for that price?” She shook her head slowly, glaring at the floor. “What a waste.”

“Please, honored Dorhanhai, there is more,” Pym said, nearly wrapping a tentacle around her arm before he remembered his manners. “The fact that you’re on the same planet with Son Goku, Prince Vegeta and the most powerful chi users in the galaxy has been a deterrent, but the prize has grown too large to resist any longer.” His desperate tone grew strained. “My Emperor wished to offer you safe passage to Brioux but decided you are far safer here. I was glad to see you seated with Son Gohan, and I am relieved to know my Emperor decided wisely.”

Khri handed the sensor back to Pym without shuddering. “I should have anticipated this,” she muttered, crossing her arms tightly, “but I was too busy indulging myself with misery and self-pity to think clearly. All those remnants of Freeza’s empire are looking for quick and dirty ways to build their own dictatorships, and are more than ready to give former slaves new masters. Twenty-three million standard credits buys instant power.”

“I’m sure it’s up to thirty million by now, Dorhanhai, if not more.”

The heavy beat quickened again as the band launched into another deafening number. Khri knew there couldn’t be many songs left to their performance and Gohan was probably getting more anxious by the moment. “Pym, I have so many questions but I really only need the answer to one . . .” The room brightened as a long forgotten anger kindled and her eyes flared. “Is one of the bounty hunters Traeger?”

The Brioux wilted like a cut flower in the sun. He didn’t have to be humanoid for Khri to see his version of a slow nod. “Yes. Due to his . . . history . . . he is the one expected to have the greatest chance of success.”

Traeger. The name sizzled its way through Khri’s brain and poured liquid heat into her veins. “That miserable son of a bitch should have been put down long ago, but the Triumvirate refused to take action!” She paced back and forth in fury, barely aware that the Brioux had slithered backward a few feet. “I had the perfect chance to kill him but the Triumvirate debated away the opportunity! Dammit, I knew I should have defied them and let Eldest clean up the mess!”

Pym’s faded complexion looked even more sickly in the yellow light. “The Mittri say they are prepared to pay dearly, but they refuse to deal with Traeger,” he offered, retreating just a bit further at the sight of her fangs. “We . . . we do not know if they have reached an agreement with other hunters.”

Khri snorted, forcing back her visible anger when she noticed Pym’s fright. “The Mittri have a real reason to want my head, but they’ve got the sense to know Traeger is unstable. Unfortunately, you don’t have to be stable to be a genius.”

The backbeat went silent and was followed by cheers. The announcer’s voice, loud and garbled, cut through the applause. Khri bit back a curse; intermission was over and she was far from her seat. “Pym, if there’s anything else I should know you’d better tell me now. Remember that green man you saw on my roof? He’s a friend and he’s about to come looking for me. I don’t know how I’m going to explain what you’ve told me to Piccolo, and I don’t think you want to be present when I do.” She gave the door a sideways glance, half expecting to see a very large, very irritated Namek smash through it.

Tentacles curled around a red dial on Pym’s breather mask. “I’m sorry to have brought you such ill news, Dorhanhai, but my Emperor . . . my people . . . desperately wished to warn you of what it is you face. We all regret we are unable to offer assistance, but I’m sure the knowledge you are well protected will help to ease their worry.”

Khri took a deep breath and pressed her palm against her breastbone. “Give your Emperor and your people my greatest thanks, Pym,” she said with a bow. “Now get back to your ship while you still can!”

The air around Pym shimmered and his image went out of focus. Khri held her breath as she watched the hulking mass shrink, contract and reform into the shape he’d “borrowed” for his duration on Earth. She found herself looking into the face that belonged to a friend, into glowing eyes that should have sparkled with humor and life. On Pym, Sai’s face had all the expression of a carefully crafted mask. “Farewell, Dorhanhai . . . Khri,” he replied, bending with the stiffness of a mechanical puppet. “May Kaio-Sama guard you.” He turned away, his whipcord-thin warrior’s queue swaying with each step until he disappeared into the shadows.

The booming voice of Mr. Satan broke through Khri’s lapse into painful memory and heartache. Dammit, how could I think of such a stupid, shortsighted plan, she cursed, glancing down at her watch. Piccolo was probably searching for her, and very likely growing more irritated every minute he didn’t find her. I need a plan, a better plan, and I need it fast!

Thinking, however, wasn’t easy. Recent events had raised hopes and crushed them again, using weapons of old nightmares and new dread. On top of it all sat anger.. Anger at being led to believe Sai still lived, at Pym for deceiving her, and how easily she fell prey to old terror. Fury was a good weapon against those fears, but it would have to be set aside in order to give Piccolo what he needed to locate her. It’s pathetic, she admitted as she concentrated harder, trying to strengthen the shield and plug the holes. Still, if Piccolo is looking for me and he isn’t too angry, he should be able to sense it. She laughed darkly at her next thought. Then he’ll get a barrier headache and have an even bigger excuse to be furious!

Emotional ripples soothed and a ragged shield in place, Khri concentrated on the memories of her first visit to the stadium. The place had been a labyrinth thirty years ago and subsequent expansions and improvements had just added to the maze. Had they changed the location of the warm-up rooms and exercise areas? If they were still in the same place, she was actually closer to meeting up with Piccolo than returning to Gohan. Feeling less uncertain now that she had made a decision, Khri felt the rents in her shielding close as she pushed open the metal doors.

The lighting in the stairwell was dim as she hurried down the steps. She passed two men in light blue uniforms who were so absorbed in a whispered conversation they took no notice of her. The stairs ended in another set of closed double doors. Khri peered through the reinforced glass, found the hallway beyond empty, and quietly slipped inside. The loud click of the latch echoed down the corridor and faded into the background of distant voices.

The paint was still fresh enough to leave a faint smell and new tile glistened on the floor, but Khri recognized this particular hall. It was part of the original stadium complex and had been on the map Surveillance had provided her scout team. It passed through a series of large storage rooms and freight elevators used to keep the small food stands and the exclusive restaurants on the highest floors well stocked. She didn’t hesitate when two workers turned a corner, pushing and pulling on a cart piled high with boxes.

The smaller man pushing reached out to push the sliding top box back to a safer spot. “Are you sure this is the last of them?“

“It is unless that truck gets here!” The taller worker nodded a greeting at Khri, which she returned without slowing. They whipped the cart into an open elevator, nearly upsetting the entire load. “There’s gonna be a lot of angry fans if there’s no more hot dogs . . .” his voice cut off as the elevator doors snapped shut.

Khri picked up her pace, ignoring the urge to glance through other open doors. Her confusion grew with each step; there had been no pressure against her fully restored and hole-free shield. Where is Piccolo? Is Gohan giving me more time, she wondered, or is Piccolo’s team on the field and Gohan doesn’t want to distract him? She pushed her concerns aside and tightened her focus on her shield, feeding it power in case her newest assumption was wrong. If Gohan is giving me time, I’m not going to waste it. She broke into a light run down the empty corridor, paused when it ended at an intersection and took the left hallway. The sounds of the crowd were louder now and the scent of cleaner air cut through the smell of new paint. She reached hall leading to what she hoped were still the practice rooms and nearly ran into a lone janitor pushing a squeaky cart loaded with discarded cups and hot dog wrappers. She reached out to steady his cart, gave him a quick apology and turned the next corner. The noise from the cart receded, the squeal fading into a low hiss.

Khri inhaled sharply and froze. She listened as the hiss raised and lowered in volume, finally resolving into speech too low to be understood. It streamed from a darkened room off to the right. She took a few cautious steps forward, trying to keep silent. This day just keeps getting worse . . .

“. . . without leadership! You, of all Lord Freeza’s men, are legendary. Rumorsss of your brave defianssse, your great power have reached the furthessst cornersss of the Empire,” the sibilant voice insisted. “Leadersss of your brillianssse are few and far between, and now would be the perfect time to show your ssstrength.”

The words weren’t directed at her, but Khri could feel their hypnotic effect. Ohlindi were physically repugnant to humanoid species; their serpentine tongues and cold eyes combined with their worm-like skin made seasoned officers shudder, but they weren’t hired for their appearance. Their voices masked an inaudible tone that calmed and seduced the listener. Honey laced with poison, was how her father described the Ohlindi’s powers of persuasion. They were often hired by mercenaries to “negotiate” contracts and “persuade” rulers to surrender without a fight, but trusting them earned you a knife in the back or worse. Their rarity kept their value high, letting their employers use them against any species that didn’t know about their devious skills.

“Think of it!” the Ohlindi hissed, weaving notes of longing and desire into his speech. “A share of thirty ssseven million creditsss and a planet of your own to rule!” Humility added a third note. “Traeger is most generousss. He hasss no wishesss to rule the entire galaxy, merely a sssmall corner of it.” The fourth note was the tease. “He alssso has accesss to great knowledge. He hasss heard rumorsss of other Sssaiyans who survived Lord Freesssa . . . he would be mossst willing to asssist you in locating them.” It paused, letting the sweet notes twist together into one powerful chord. “All of it, in exchange for a Leonid. What do you sssay, King Vegeta?”

To Be Continued...

AN: Sorry about such a long wait; the house is nearly finished! HUGE thank-yous to all my patient readers and reviewers; without you, this chapter (which was a big struggle for some reason) would have taken even longer. It seems short to me, but the next chapter, “Deal with a Devil,” shouldn’t take so long. Piccolo didn’t get face time here but that is going to change, and soon!