Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Illumination ❯ Mission 05: Escort Service 2 [Senatorial Remix] ( Chapter 7 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Silver Armada 
Trunks and Armada accept an odd mission to provide a private escort for a Republican senator, which descends into madness.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Drama / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 12.07.2016 | Pages: 12 | Words: 7.2K | Visits: 151 | Status: Completed
Trunks and Armada accept an odd mission to provide a private escort for a Republican senator, which descends into madness.
Anime/Manga: Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Action / Drama / Adventure | Type: Continuation | Uploaded On: 12.07.2016 | Pages: 12 | Words: 7.2K | Visits: 151 | Status: Completed
Disclaimer: Dragonball Z belongs to
Akira Toriyama and numerous other companies. This fanfic is only
for fun, no monies are being made.
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Trunks laid back in his bed, shoulders propped up slightly against the wall so he wasn't lying totally flat. He flipped through the ID again that Q had decrypted for him. With access to it, he found that the man who carried it had twelve fake identifications stored on the card, and one that Q had identified as the real deal. The information on just the collection of IDs didn't give him any new information. They were just fake names from different places around the universe. He couldn't help his desire to keep cycling through each one, looking for something. Then again, what would he look for? He knew nothing about the wider universe besides the stories his mother had told him of a few select planets, and the research he had done so far on his own of the system Bmyhad belonged to and its neighboring planets.
He had learned that the known universe was massive. And when he tried to search for 'Namek' on the network, he found nothing. He didn't dare search for the other planet he'd heard of. Knowing what the Saiyan race did for many years under Freiza's army, who knew how many enemies were lying in wait, wanting revenge against a dead race. Besides, the planet Vegeta no longer existed. He may run the risk of the search only to find nothing in return.
Deciding he had wasted enough time today, Trunks got up to return the ID to the locking cabinet in his bathroom. Just as he had closed the cabinet door, he heard a knock at the door to his barracks. “Yeah?” Trunks called out without moving anywhere.
“Get out here,” he heard Armada call back.
Trunks scowled slightly. She's so polite, he thought sarcastically as he walked out of his bathroom and to the door to his quarters. He opened the door and she stood on the other side waiting for him with her typical somewhat-pissed-off look on her face. Before Trunks could even say anything, she spoke.
“We've got another job. We're leaving now.” No sooner had the words come out of her mouth, she turned around and walked back down the hallway.
“Wait, where are we going?” Trunks called after her.
“Virda City. The ship departs now,” she said loud enough for him to hear her as she continued walking away.
Trunks sighed again. Why did this woman have to be such a pain in the ass? He followed after her toward the bridge. Once inside the bridge, he saw her seated at the main console as the ship's engines began to fire up. Trunks took a seat at the navigation console and rotated the chair to face her. “So what are our orders?” he asked casually.
“A senator from Virda City wants escorted to the Republic,” Armada stated flatly as her hands worked furiously to prepare the ship for launch. It was almost a spectacle in and of itself to Trunks, as he watched her flip between monitors and input commands furiously.
“What's our timeframe?” Trunks asked.
“It will take three days to get to Virda City, and a week from there to reach the Republic,” she replied as she moved both hands to the engine thrusters and pushed forward on both. The ship slowly began to lift out of the hangar. It only took about fifteen seconds for them to clear the roof and double-check that the door closed behind them. With everything locked down, Armada changed the ship's trajectory and put the engines on full blast for them to escape Bmyhad's atmosphere.
After a few minutes of mild turbulence, Trunks knew they had left the atmosphere and the gravity well when everything stopped shaking and the ship began a smooth, quiet ride. Armada began charting their course and setting up the autopilot. Trunks stayed seated as his hair started to float up around him. She never engaged the artificial gravity until they were a safe distance from the gravity well. She had explained once that if they were too close when it was activated, the planet's gravity could destroy the artificial gravity generator in the bottom of the ship.
Once she had the coordinates locked, Armada turned on the autopilot and let go of the controls. “Two days and nineteen hours until we reach our destination,” she said before she pushed herself away from the pilot's seat to the wall just behind her. A few seconds after she reached the console at the rear of the bridge, Trunks felt the familiar creeping motion of the artificial gravity kicking in. It was a comforting feeling—he didn't care for weightlessness. It made his stomach queasy.
As soon as the artificial gravity was on and Armada's feet set back down on the ship, she walked off toward the galley. Trunks sensed her heading for the cargo bay once again. He got up and headed back to his quarters. He hated these long flights; they made the days drag on.
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Illumination < br> Mission 05: Escort Service 2 [Senatorial Remix]
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“What's our status, Noran?” a dignified yet gravelly voice rang out.
Noran stood in front of his charge, Senator Ballasten, as they waited for their 'escort' at a spaceport orbiting Virda. The pair stood at the edge of a balcony overlooking the main concourse in the spaceport, looking for the mercenary they'd hired to travel with them to the Republic. Noran had his head down, checking the last communication he had received from the mercenary. “She should be here any minute now,” he said in even, cool tones. “Her ship officially docked seven minutes ago.”
“Good,” the senator responded, placing his left hand on Noran's shoulder. The senator was an elderly man, though he was not incapacitated any more than a healthy senior would be. He merely wanted to show Noran his approval.
Noran took and scanned the crowd, his eyes darting left and right, looking for her face. The picture he had studied was taken from security footage, in low light, and at an odd angle; but he knew he would recognize her. Another minute or so passed before Noran did a double-take upon seeing a blonde woman with sloppy hair walking down the concourse. “There,” he pointed discretely and looked to the senator. “That's her,” he reiterated.
The senator stepped forward and squinted his eyes to have a look. He was about to say something when his attendant interrupted him. “Who the hell is that with her?” Noran gripped the railing of the mezzanine tightly and scowled as he noticed a man with purple hair following closely behind the mercenary—close enough to indicate that they were indeed together. “She's always worked alone,” he said softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself.
“It's fine, Noran,” Senator Ballasten replied. “It won't change anything.” He shifted his weight on his feet and clasped his hands together in front of him. “We'll still accomplish what we had intended.”
Noran turned to face the senator and glowered. “I don't like unknowns,” he ground out darkly. If the senator didn't know better, he would have feared for his life from his attendant's tone alone.
“Calm yourself my child,” Ballasten said with an air of authority. “We'll get what we need. Some piece of space trash she picked up will hardly hinder us. Or you,” the senator added his last sentence while turning to look Noran in the eyes.
The senator was right, Noran realized. He needed to calm himself, and he took the first big steps to doing that by releasing the railing and letting out a deep, slow breath. He closed his eyes for a moment. They would do what they needed to on this trip, and he would plant the seeds for his own victory later on. The senator didn't need to know about that, but it was part of their agreement that when the time came, the mercenary be left to him. Noran opened his eyes and smirked. He could almost feel bad for her, knowing what he had in store. Almost.
Noran turned around and smiled at Senator Ballasten. “Let's go introduce ourselves.”
-+-
Armada stopped walking when the pair arrived at the gates to 5-C, or the fifth concourse as she had explained to Trunks earlier. “This is it,” she said, putting away her tablet into a jacket pocket. She was wearing a cropped dark green jacket with her standard white shirt underneath. Instead of the usual skirt, she had loose-fitting black cargo pants that ran down to the floor. Her hair was pulled back in a braid save her bangs. Trunks was in his standard blue jacket, black shirt, gray pants—nothing new for him. “They said to meet at the gate,” Armada turned to look at Trunks.
“Two guys, the senator and one attendant,” Trunks recited back to Armada when she faced him. “Do we have any idea what these guys look like?” Armada opened her mouth to respond but was cut short from behind.
“My apologies,” a deep smooth voice rang out, “we couldn't risk leaking the senator's location.” Both mercenaries turned to see the man standing behind Armada. He had black hair and light brown eyes, and he was huge. He was a few inches taller than Trunks, but his build was very similar—both men being very muscular and fit. “I'm Noran, it's a pleasure to meet you,” he added with a smile and slight bow of the head to Armada. Armada inched slightly back from him and her eyebrows came together in immediate distrust. “I must say, you have quite the reputation, Armada,” he added on with a somewhat victorious visage.
“So I've been told,” Armada said flatly, still eyeing Noran warily. “This is Mace, he works for me,” Armada said glancing to Trunks.
Trunks was kind of shocked that she had given him a fake name, but then again the way Noran said her name made it sound like it was a good idea. Mace being her broker, it must have been the first thing that came to mind. Noran glanced at Trunks briefly and just as quickly turned his gaze away. “This is Senator Ballasten,” Noran turned to the elderly gentleman with him. “I'm sure you understand that for security purposes we couldn't reveal his full identity to you ahead of time,” Noran added.
“Well, let's be on our way,” the senator cut in. Senator Ballasten wasn't short, but average build, with a bit of extra weight around his midsection. He had thin hair, and it was all white. The wrinkles on his face indicated his age, but he kept his visage mostly unmoving. Then again, being a politician, he was likely very practiced at keeping his reactions guarded. “It's not exactly a short trip,” the senator said with a smile.
Armada immediately spun around and walked off, leaving the rest of the group to catch up. Trunks looked at Noran who open glared at him, before he followed behind the senator who was the first to follow Armada. Trunks quickly fell into step at the rear, keeping his eyes fixed on Noran. He and Armada had already talked about this; something was clearly going on beyond a simple escort mission. Why else would a Republican senator hire a mercenary?
“You realize it's a trap, don't you?” Trunks asked Armada in the bridge as she piloted the ship into dock at the space station orbiting Virda they had agreed to pick up their charges at.
“Of course,” she answered plainly. “Senators from the Republic are the highest elected officials in that nation. They represent entire planets. Senators have access to unlimited money and security. There's no reason for this, except that they are planning something that requires a gullible mercenary.”
“Then why did you accept?” Trunks followed up. While everything she just said made sense, the question still needed answered.
Armada turned to look at him. “Because we're smarter and stronger than they think. We won't fall for whatever their trap is, and we'll get paid.”
Trunks was deep in thought but still kept a close eye on their small line the short walk back to the ship. When they arrived, Armada led the senator in who followed without issue. However, at the door Noran stopped and stepped to the side, as if he were waiting for Trunks to pass. Trunks stopped short and waited; he wasn't going to fall for something so simple. The two exchanged cold stares for a minute before Noran finally turned without a word and walked in. Trunks followed after him.
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Armada quickly introduced the senator and his attendant to the third unused barracks on the ship, and let them know it was theirs. She also gave them a very concise rundown of the rules, which basically consisted of their required presence in their room at all times. Meals would be delivered to them, and if they docked at any space stations on the way they must be escorted through the ship by Armada. Trunks smirked at the look on Noran's face, as the man seemed positively furious that she would impose such restrictions on him. He started to complain when the senator silenced him, but Armada added on anyway, “If you don't like the accommodations, then leave.” Nobody said anything after that.
The first two days passed without incident. Armada cooked meals and brought the senator and Noran food, which Noran seemed none to pleased about. Trunks knew Armada's cooking; it wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. It was just edible. Probably garbage compared to what a high powered, ultra rich politician is used to. And though he hadn't heard anything directly, he was sure they weren't enjoying the bare-bones military style quarters they were given.
Trunks stood in the galley leaned back against the counter a meter away from where Armada was currently preparing the next meal. “You think they'll put up with this another four and a half days?” he asked, his arms crossed over his chest.
“No,” Armada replied as she continued her work, not bothering to look at him. “But that's the point. They'll get angry. And sloppy. And whatever they thought they were going to do, they'll either rush through it or let their anger make them forget about whatever they've planned.” She finished her preparation and began filling two trays with food.
Trunks thought for a moment before speaking. “Well they're not going to do much in there, so you're planning on letting them out.” She only nodded in response before walking out of the galley carrying to trays of food. Trunks followed close behind.
Noran was already waiting when Armada opened the door to their guests's quarters, and as usual he looked unhappy. Armada handed him the two trays, and as Noran turned to walk away from the doorway, she spoke. “We're going to stop at orbital platform LN4195 to refuel and pick up supplies. We'll arrive in about an hour. You and the senator are welcome to disembark if you'd like while we're there.” Without giving Noran a chance to respond, she closed the door and turned to walk away.
Once the mercenaries reached the bridge, Armada stopped and looked at Trunks. “That will give them enough time to figure out how to execute whatever they're thinking about.” She paused momentarily, before adding, “And I need you to play dumb.”
“What do you mean?” Trunks asked..
“Clearly they already know something about me,” she said, glancing down the hallway toward the barracks. “You're the unknown. They don't know anything about you. So we need to make sure you continue to be a mystery,” she finished.
“So what are we doing once we get to the space station?” Trunks followed up once again.
Armada turned to him once more and smirked. “Just follow my lead.”
-+-
Having finished their meals, and only having about twenty minutes left to plan before the ship arrived at the space station, Noran and the senator tried to plan out their next move.
“Clearly she's toying with us,” Noran said in annoyance as he paced in the room. “We've been locked in here like criminals thus far and now suddenly we're stopping for supplies and she's letting us out? A ship like this wouldn't need to refuel on this short of a trip.”
“Calm down Noran,” Senator Ballasten responded from where he sat on one of the beds in the room.
“I can't calm down sir,” Noran stopped pacing and faced the senator. “This ship uses an ID scrambler, so we can't pull its signature,” he tossed his tablet to the senator who caught it with ease. “We don't know what kind of armaments it has, and we can't find anything similar to it,” Noran continued. “If we can't replicate the ship, that throws a serious wrench into things,” he finished and let out an exasperated sigh.
“We just need some good images of it, yes?” the senator asked as he tooled away on the tablet that Noran had tossed him.
“That would be a good start, seeing as we have nothing so far,” the attendant replied as he ran his right hand through his hair. “The question is, where are we gonna find that? Between our entering and exiting the ship, we haven't gotten a clear look at it, let alone a picture,” Noran said more to himself than the senator.
“How about this?”
Noran snapped around to look at the senator, who held out Noran's tablet. Noran closed the small gap between them and took the tablet from his senior's hands. What the senator had pulled up was video from a news report from some country in the Alliance. Noran played the video once, then twice, when he saw it—right at the beginning of the video he saw Armada and Mace fly out of harm's way and into a ship. No, this ship, it was just a regular metallic silver in the video instead of the black it was now. A smile slowly crept into Noran's face. “Oh, you put me to shame, sir.”
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In the space station, Trunks and Armada sat at a table in the food court area inside the terminal. They both watched the senator and his attendant, sitting at a table on the other side of the terminal, probably about fifty meters away. Trunks finished taking a drink of his water, and asked, “You know what they're planning yet?”
“No idea,” Armada said without turning her gaze away from the senator and Noran. “But that guy's not normal.”
“Who, Noran?” Trunks asked while looking at the senator's assistant, or whatever he was. “Sure, I mean, he doesn't look like your standard personal assistant,” he added.
“That's because he's not,” Armada said, still watching Ballasten and Noran interact in between her own sips of water. “He's an energy fighter like us,” Armada spoke again. “You can tell from his gait; the way he walks. He's almost too muscular though, like he's sacrificed speed for power. Not a smart move,” she finished.
Trunks sighed, remembering his own mistake from a few years ago like Armada was speaking about him. “Yeah, I know a little about that,” he added with a slight hint of shame. Armada turned to look at Trunks, her face showing a mixture of confusion and curiosity. She opened her mouth to speak but was immediately interrupted by gunfire.
The mercenaries' heads snapped up as people began screaming and diving for cover. On the mezzanine overlooking the food court, a small group of young men—five, or six? It was hard for Trunks to be certain—had pulled out what looked like assault rifles and pistols and fired into the ceiling of the installation. “Ladies and gentlemen,” one young man with very light blond hair shouted out as he leaned over the railing holding an assault rifle in his hands. “If everyone stays calm and keeps their heads down, we'll be out of your way shortly. Thank you.” As soon as he finished his orders, the group scattered from the top of the mezzanine and headed for the nearby stairs to the lower level.
“What the hell do they...?” Armada trailed off as she was interrupted by Trunks.
“The senator,” Trunks said and nodded in the direction they had been watching only moments ago. Armada turned to look to see Noran was still there, but he was glaring in another direction. Armada followed his gaze to see the senator already twenty meters from Noran, standing calmly as two men guarded him, one with an assault rifle, the other with a pistol.
“Damnit,” Armada growled, “these stupid kids. Probably some gang that noticed a senator on the station.” Before Trunks could say anything else, Armada looked to him once more. “Stay here, and don't do anything. Noran doesn't know anything about you, and we need to keep it that way.” She pushed her chair back and stood up, looking around the station as people ran for their lives beneath panicked screams. She turned back to Trunks one last time, “On second thought, if you can stay under their radar, move closer to the senator.” With that, she took off running through the crowd toward the stairs coming down from the mezzanine. Trunks took his cue and got up, and headed toward the senator through the throngs of screaming civilians.
Noran saw Armada headed through the crowd toward the stairs that several of the armed instigators were currently headed down. His eyes narrowed; he certainly didn't trust a mercenary to handle this issue with grace. He had to do something. Noran shot another glance to the senator, who nodded in response so slightly his captors missed it. Noran turned and started to push his way toward Armada.
Once Armada reached the stairwell leading upstairs on the right side of the terminal, she waited briefly. The kids with guns didn't let off anymore energy than their normal lifeforce, so she figured they weren't energy fighters. For that she was glad, because if she had to take down half a dozen careless energy fighters in a space station... well, it wouldn't be easy. She heard several pairs of footsteps coming down lazily, and since the terminal was clearing of bystanders by this point she knew it had to be at least three or four of the seven would-be bandits she counted on the mezzanine when they first made their move. She stood back, just behind the wall separating the stairwell from the rest of the terminal, and waited for them to appear around the corner. As soon as she saw a fourth young man step down, she sprung into action.
Picking off the one in the back first, since he had an assault rifle, Armada rammed the palm of her right hand into the base of his spine. The kid barely had time to shriek in pain before he fell to the ground, incapacitated. The other three turned, but no sooner had they looked upon her, Armada had them on the ground with three quick, solid uppercuts to their abdomens—hitting each in his diaphragm, taking the air from his lungs. As they each fell, Armada shot energy blasts at each of their weapons, destroying them.
No sooner had she finished this task, Noran was upon her. Before Armada could speak, he swung at her and she barely missed blocking his punch. Taking a strong right hook squarely in the center of her face, Armada jumped backward to put some distance between her assailant and herself.
“What game are you playing at mercenary?!” Noran shouted in anger. At this, his energy flared and began to whirl around him in a pale green aura. “Now you lose your life for crossing me!”
“Stop, you idiot!” Armada shouted back after wiping at her face, a smear of blood beneath her nose. “If I'd wanted you or the senator, I'd have done it myself. I wouldn't hire some ragtag band of kids with guns to do it. If you're half as smart as you think you are, you know that,” she said but kept back in her stance, ready for Noran to attack again.
Noran clenched his teeth and his right fist in front of his chest momentarily before he let go of his energy and it dissipated around him. “Fine. Now we need to find the rest of these punks so we can get out of here.”
Trunks had managed to clear some distance between the senator and his two new bodyguards and where he and Armada were moments ago, but not all of it. The crowd cleared up before he got all the way there, so he ducked behind a long planter where he could still see the senator but the gunmen couldn't see Trunks. He was contemplating when to make his move when the armed guards spoke up. “Holy shit, that woman just took out Curi!” one of them exclaimed.
“What should we do?” the second asked, and Trunks suddenly felt a spike in energy that he wasn't familiar with. A quick glance over the planter in that direction revealed Noran standing with his energy raised, and Armada a few meters away wiping at her mouth. Trunks scowled; he had no time to deal with that issue when he still had to get the gunmen away from the senator. Noticing they were distracted by the spectacle before them, Trunks took the opportunity.
He appeared, seemingly out of nowhere to guys guarding the senator. With two quick chops across the back of their necks, both men were knocked out and fell to the ground. Senator Ballasten took a step back from Trunks and had what appeared to the demi-Saiyan to be an actual display of emotion on his face. The senator looked purely shocked. Trunks didn't bother to say anything in response before he flew over to where Armada and Noran appeared to be having some sort of showdown.
Just as Noran powered down, Trunks appeared between him and Armada, his back to his comrade. Noran narrowed his eyes at 'Mace.' I didn't sense him at all, not even when he flew over here... Noran thought with deep curiosity. Before anyone had the opportunity to speak, Trunks sensed three more people coming down the stairs on the other side of the mezzanine. His head whipped around in their direction, and in less than a second he was upon them.
“Oh shit!” one of the kids managed to yell out before Trunks took them out without seriously injuring them. With their weapons on the ground, Trunks stomped on the two assault rifles and one pistol the three carried between them, destroying them.
“Good work,” Armada said as she ran up behind Trunks. He turned to see Noran stalking their direction with anger written across his face.
“I don't think he's gonna agree with you,” Trunks said and motioned toward the senator's attendant with his head. Armada spun around and glared at Noran as he approached.
“Very cute,” Noran spat as he closed the gap between himself and the mercenary pair. “Trying to make yourselves look good in front of the senator? By what, beating up a bunch of kids barely out of their diapers?” He stopped two meters away from the pair. “We're not so easily fooled.”
“We had nothing to do with this, you asshole,” Armada spat in return. “And you're lucky I don't kill you for that cheap shot,” she added, referring to the sucker punch he landed on her when she was busy trying to ensure his senator's safety.
“You, kill me?” Noran shot back. “You don't have—“ Noran began, but his insult was interrupted by the sound of several dozen heavily-armed security guards bursting into the terminal from the security doors beneath the center of the mezzanine. The security guards immediately leveled their weapons at the three energy fighters standing over three kids still groaning in pain.
“There's no need for any of that.”
Everyone turned to see Senator Ballasten slowly walking over to the group. One security guard in particular, the only one not wearing a face mask Trunks noticed, stepped forward and lowered his weapon. “Senator Ballasten, my deepest apologies for everything that has happened here, sir.”
“It's quite all right,” Ballasten replied in that gravelly yet diplomatic voice of his. “My personal security was quite able to handle the situation,” he said, turning his gaze to the three energy fighters who were indeed with him.
Understanding what he meant, the apparent head of the security group raised a hand to signal to his men. “Stand down, they're with the senator.” Immediately, the rest of the security guards lowered their weapons and stood at ease. “Grab these kids and get 'em in cuffs,” he called out. “And get this place cleaned up.” The security guards sprang into action, and the lead officer approached the senator. “If there's anything we can do, sir, please let me know.”
Senator Ballasten had a look of utter indifference on his face. “Oh I believe our ship has probably finished refueling by now, I think we'll simply be on our way.” It was his way of indicating that he should be left to leave before the security lockdown that was surely in place now was lifted.
“Of course sir, we'll clear your ship to leave right away,” the officer responded. He then turned to direct the rest of his contingent regarding the kids they were dragging away in cuffs who, for those that weren't still unconscious, moaned in pain or actually started crying. Trunks suddenly felt a little guilty; he may have hit them harder than he needed to.
“Noran!” the senator nearly shouted in what Trunks figured was his 'I'm a little upset' voice. Noran gave one last glare to the mercenaries before he stepped over to the senator, and the pair headed toward the gate which led to the mercenaries' ship. Armada gave Trunks a quick glance before she followed behind their charges. After all, they still had a job to finish.
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After getting everyone back on the ship, and in the case of the senator and his guard dog, locked away in their rooms, Armada disembarked the ship from the space station and they continued on their course. As soon as she finished programming the autopilot to take over, she sighed heavily and let herself sink back into the pilot's chair. She reached up and gingerly touched her nose, trying to determine if Noran had broken it. She cursed herself for letting down her guard.
“You okay?” Trunks asked from his seat nearby at the navigation console.
Armada let out a sigh and fixed a glare on her comrade. “I can take a punch just fine, thanks.” She closed her eyes and ran her fingers along the sides of the bridge of her nose. “It's not broken, so it's fine.” She paused a moment. “It's my fault anyway, I shouldn't have let my guard down.” That bastard, she added mentally and narrowed her eyes as she kept her gaze on their autopilot course.
Trunks stood up from his seat. “Well Noran's an idiot anyway,” he changed the topic slightly. “If he really thinks we would hire some kids with guns to try and kidnap the senator.” Trunks shook his head and stayed silent a moment. “What the hell are they after, anyway?”
“They're trying to make a replica of this ship,” Armada looked up at Trunks from where she sat. He noticed that the redness in her face was already starting to dissipate.
“Why?” Trunks asked. “And how do you even know that?” he followed up before she could reply.
“I bugged their room,” Armada answered his second question first. “And I don't know. There's nothing particularly special about this ship.” She leaned forward and stood up slowly, flexing the muscles across her shoulders as if they were sore. “We've only got a few more days,” she stated. “We just need to keep them locked up and make sure things stay quiet.” She walked away and headed for the rear of the ship down the hallway passing the galley and lounge. Trunks wondered why she wasn't quite as concerned with them trying to make a replica of her ship... there could be no good reason to do so.
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Going back to the schedule they had in the beginning, where Noran and Ballasten were locked away all day with the exception of meal deliveries, things had stayed quiet. They were only three hours out from their destination, a space station just outside sovereign airspace of the GaReXa Republic. Trunks sat back in his bed, lights out in his room because he was supposed to be sleeping. But there was too much to think about, and he was wondering about how his mother was doing back home. So he left the door to his barracks open, listening for whenever they did eventually arrive at their final destination.
He heard Armada's footsteps in the hallway, and realized she had stopped at the door to the room currently occupied by one senator and one jackass. He listened closely as she opened the door and spoke.
“We'll be arriving at your requested destination in approximately two hours and forty-eight minutes,” she said flatly. “Please have payment ready before you disembark.”
“Wait,” Trunks heard Noran's voice call out followed by heavier footsteps approaching the door. “Come with us,” he said lowly, almost like he was trying to keep someone from hearing him. Not someone, Trunks realized, the senator. Trunks sat up in bed and focused his senses to listen a bit more closely. “I've never met anyone like you,” Noran continued. “I... want you with me.”
“I-I don't know,” Trunks heard Armada respond. She sounded... flustered, almost embarrassed. Trunks's face contorted into pure confusion as he listened on. What the hell is this? He thought in shock and concern. He'd never heard Armada speak like that, let alone sound like—dare he say—a woman.
“Think of everything we could accomplish together,” Noran said, almost breathless. Did this guy... did he like Armada? Trunks's mouth hung agape in shock; was this for real? He actually pinched the top of his left hand with his right, just to make sure he was indeed awake and not dreaming.
“Noran, I, I need to tell you something very important,” Armada said lowly, and Trunks still couldn't believe what he was hearing. Where was Armada, and who the hell was talking to Noran? Because it sure as hell wasn't the woman he'd gotten to know for the past six weeks.
“The next time I see you, I'm going to gut you like the coward you are,” Armada ground out darkly. Trunks shook his head and almost laughed; she was messing with him! Now the world made sense.
Noran almost growled. “You stupid bitch, you have no idea what you've just given up.” Trunks had a hard time trying not to laugh as he envisioned the embarrassed and enraged look on Noran's face. Armada just made him look like a fool, and it was rather glorious. “You'll regret this.”
“The only thing I'm going to regret is not killing you now,” Armada answered, “and strangling that fat old man who drags you around like his dog.” She smirked, “Of course, maybe you like that sort of thing—”
“Pray you never see me again,” Noran cut her off, rage rolling from his words like steam from a boiling pot. “Because if you do, I will unleash cruelty upon you so unspeakable, you will beg me to kill you.”
Trunks heard Armada laugh darkly. “Says the man who just begged me to stand at his side.” She paused a moment, but continued “If you truly knew anything about me, then you would know that I would die a thousand painful deaths before I served under someone again for one second. I am a hurricane of death and cruelty, and anyone who crosses me winds up dead or wishing they were dead. I am nobody's tool,” she finished and with that Trunks heard her press the button to shut the door in Noran's face. Immediately he heard her footsteps walk away.
Trunks laid back against his pillow and laughed out loud, albeit quietly. He just wished he could have seen the look on Noran's face. He felt somewhat proud of his comrade, even if what she did was mean. Hell, if anyone deserved it, it was that guy.
-+-
Trunks stood next to Armada, closest to the door of the ship. Directly across from him on the other side of the door stood the senator with his guard dog behind him. Armada looked up from the tablet she was using and addressed the group. “The transaction is verified. We're good.”
The senator nodded in that fake-appreciative way politicians are good at. “Thank you for your services.” With the transfer confirmed, Trunks opened the door, and the senator let himself out.
Noran stepped forward, and smirked at Trunks as he 'accidentally' bumped his shoulder into Trunks's shoulder. The contact only lasted for a moment, but that was all that was needed. Noran let his internal shield down, and when he made contact with Trunks, the Earthling was able to sense just how deep the well of Noran's power went. It was disconcerting; not because he was any match for Trunks, because he wasn't. But in a one-on-one fight with Armada, Trunks wasn't sure she would survive.
Noran glanced over his shoulder and shot one last smirk at Trunks before Armada pressed a button on the console next to the door which caused it to shut. “Smug asshole,” Armada spat before she turned and walked into the bridge. Trunks couldn't help but laugh at her comment. His mother used to say, hell have no wrath like a woman scorned. Maybe one day Armada would kill him, and it would be a hell of a fight.
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Thanks for reading, please leave a review! Good, bad, or ugly, I like all kinds of feedback. :>
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Trunks laid back in his bed, shoulders propped up slightly against the wall so he wasn't lying totally flat. He flipped through the ID again that Q had decrypted for him. With access to it, he found that the man who carried it had twelve fake identifications stored on the card, and one that Q had identified as the real deal. The information on just the collection of IDs didn't give him any new information. They were just fake names from different places around the universe. He couldn't help his desire to keep cycling through each one, looking for something. Then again, what would he look for? He knew nothing about the wider universe besides the stories his mother had told him of a few select planets, and the research he had done so far on his own of the system Bmyhad belonged to and its neighboring planets.
He had learned that the known universe was massive. And when he tried to search for 'Namek' on the network, he found nothing. He didn't dare search for the other planet he'd heard of. Knowing what the Saiyan race did for many years under Freiza's army, who knew how many enemies were lying in wait, wanting revenge against a dead race. Besides, the planet Vegeta no longer existed. He may run the risk of the search only to find nothing in return.
Deciding he had wasted enough time today, Trunks got up to return the ID to the locking cabinet in his bathroom. Just as he had closed the cabinet door, he heard a knock at the door to his barracks. “Yeah?” Trunks called out without moving anywhere.
“Get out here,” he heard Armada call back.
Trunks scowled slightly. She's so polite, he thought sarcastically as he walked out of his bathroom and to the door to his quarters. He opened the door and she stood on the other side waiting for him with her typical somewhat-pissed-off look on her face. Before Trunks could even say anything, she spoke.
“We've got another job. We're leaving now.” No sooner had the words come out of her mouth, she turned around and walked back down the hallway.
“Wait, where are we going?” Trunks called after her.
“Virda City. The ship departs now,” she said loud enough for him to hear her as she continued walking away.
Trunks sighed again. Why did this woman have to be such a pain in the ass? He followed after her toward the bridge. Once inside the bridge, he saw her seated at the main console as the ship's engines began to fire up. Trunks took a seat at the navigation console and rotated the chair to face her. “So what are our orders?” he asked casually.
“A senator from Virda City wants escorted to the Republic,” Armada stated flatly as her hands worked furiously to prepare the ship for launch. It was almost a spectacle in and of itself to Trunks, as he watched her flip between monitors and input commands furiously.
“What's our timeframe?” Trunks asked.
“It will take three days to get to Virda City, and a week from there to reach the Republic,” she replied as she moved both hands to the engine thrusters and pushed forward on both. The ship slowly began to lift out of the hangar. It only took about fifteen seconds for them to clear the roof and double-check that the door closed behind them. With everything locked down, Armada changed the ship's trajectory and put the engines on full blast for them to escape Bmyhad's atmosphere.
After a few minutes of mild turbulence, Trunks knew they had left the atmosphere and the gravity well when everything stopped shaking and the ship began a smooth, quiet ride. Armada began charting their course and setting up the autopilot. Trunks stayed seated as his hair started to float up around him. She never engaged the artificial gravity until they were a safe distance from the gravity well. She had explained once that if they were too close when it was activated, the planet's gravity could destroy the artificial gravity generator in the bottom of the ship.
Once she had the coordinates locked, Armada turned on the autopilot and let go of the controls. “Two days and nineteen hours until we reach our destination,” she said before she pushed herself away from the pilot's seat to the wall just behind her. A few seconds after she reached the console at the rear of the bridge, Trunks felt the familiar creeping motion of the artificial gravity kicking in. It was a comforting feeling—he didn't care for weightlessness. It made his stomach queasy.
As soon as the artificial gravity was on and Armada's feet set back down on the ship, she walked off toward the galley. Trunks sensed her heading for the cargo bay once again. He got up and headed back to his quarters. He hated these long flights; they made the days drag on.
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Illumination < br> Mission 05: Escort Service 2 [Senatorial Remix]
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“What's our status, Noran?” a dignified yet gravelly voice rang out.
Noran stood in front of his charge, Senator Ballasten, as they waited for their 'escort' at a spaceport orbiting Virda. The pair stood at the edge of a balcony overlooking the main concourse in the spaceport, looking for the mercenary they'd hired to travel with them to the Republic. Noran had his head down, checking the last communication he had received from the mercenary. “She should be here any minute now,” he said in even, cool tones. “Her ship officially docked seven minutes ago.”
“Good,” the senator responded, placing his left hand on Noran's shoulder. The senator was an elderly man, though he was not incapacitated any more than a healthy senior would be. He merely wanted to show Noran his approval.
Noran took and scanned the crowd, his eyes darting left and right, looking for her face. The picture he had studied was taken from security footage, in low light, and at an odd angle; but he knew he would recognize her. Another minute or so passed before Noran did a double-take upon seeing a blonde woman with sloppy hair walking down the concourse. “There,” he pointed discretely and looked to the senator. “That's her,” he reiterated.
The senator stepped forward and squinted his eyes to have a look. He was about to say something when his attendant interrupted him. “Who the hell is that with her?” Noran gripped the railing of the mezzanine tightly and scowled as he noticed a man with purple hair following closely behind the mercenary—close enough to indicate that they were indeed together. “She's always worked alone,” he said softly, almost as if he were speaking to himself.
“It's fine, Noran,” Senator Ballasten replied. “It won't change anything.” He shifted his weight on his feet and clasped his hands together in front of him. “We'll still accomplish what we had intended.”
Noran turned to face the senator and glowered. “I don't like unknowns,” he ground out darkly. If the senator didn't know better, he would have feared for his life from his attendant's tone alone.
“Calm yourself my child,” Ballasten said with an air of authority. “We'll get what we need. Some piece of space trash she picked up will hardly hinder us. Or you,” the senator added his last sentence while turning to look Noran in the eyes.
The senator was right, Noran realized. He needed to calm himself, and he took the first big steps to doing that by releasing the railing and letting out a deep, slow breath. He closed his eyes for a moment. They would do what they needed to on this trip, and he would plant the seeds for his own victory later on. The senator didn't need to know about that, but it was part of their agreement that when the time came, the mercenary be left to him. Noran opened his eyes and smirked. He could almost feel bad for her, knowing what he had in store. Almost.
Noran turned around and smiled at Senator Ballasten. “Let's go introduce ourselves.”
-+-
Armada stopped walking when the pair arrived at the gates to 5-C, or the fifth concourse as she had explained to Trunks earlier. “This is it,” she said, putting away her tablet into a jacket pocket. She was wearing a cropped dark green jacket with her standard white shirt underneath. Instead of the usual skirt, she had loose-fitting black cargo pants that ran down to the floor. Her hair was pulled back in a braid save her bangs. Trunks was in his standard blue jacket, black shirt, gray pants—nothing new for him. “They said to meet at the gate,” Armada turned to look at Trunks.
“Two guys, the senator and one attendant,” Trunks recited back to Armada when she faced him. “Do we have any idea what these guys look like?” Armada opened her mouth to respond but was cut short from behind.
“My apologies,” a deep smooth voice rang out, “we couldn't risk leaking the senator's location.” Both mercenaries turned to see the man standing behind Armada. He had black hair and light brown eyes, and he was huge. He was a few inches taller than Trunks, but his build was very similar—both men being very muscular and fit. “I'm Noran, it's a pleasure to meet you,” he added with a smile and slight bow of the head to Armada. Armada inched slightly back from him and her eyebrows came together in immediate distrust. “I must say, you have quite the reputation, Armada,” he added on with a somewhat victorious visage.
“So I've been told,” Armada said flatly, still eyeing Noran warily. “This is Mace, he works for me,” Armada said glancing to Trunks.
Trunks was kind of shocked that she had given him a fake name, but then again the way Noran said her name made it sound like it was a good idea. Mace being her broker, it must have been the first thing that came to mind. Noran glanced at Trunks briefly and just as quickly turned his gaze away. “This is Senator Ballasten,” Noran turned to the elderly gentleman with him. “I'm sure you understand that for security purposes we couldn't reveal his full identity to you ahead of time,” Noran added.
“Well, let's be on our way,” the senator cut in. Senator Ballasten wasn't short, but average build, with a bit of extra weight around his midsection. He had thin hair, and it was all white. The wrinkles on his face indicated his age, but he kept his visage mostly unmoving. Then again, being a politician, he was likely very practiced at keeping his reactions guarded. “It's not exactly a short trip,” the senator said with a smile.
Armada immediately spun around and walked off, leaving the rest of the group to catch up. Trunks looked at Noran who open glared at him, before he followed behind the senator who was the first to follow Armada. Trunks quickly fell into step at the rear, keeping his eyes fixed on Noran. He and Armada had already talked about this; something was clearly going on beyond a simple escort mission. Why else would a Republican senator hire a mercenary?
“You realize it's a trap, don't you?” Trunks asked Armada in the bridge as she piloted the ship into dock at the space station orbiting Virda they had agreed to pick up their charges at.
“Of course,” she answered plainly. “Senators from the Republic are the highest elected officials in that nation. They represent entire planets. Senators have access to unlimited money and security. There's no reason for this, except that they are planning something that requires a gullible mercenary.”
“Then why did you accept?” Trunks followed up. While everything she just said made sense, the question still needed answered.
Armada turned to look at him. “Because we're smarter and stronger than they think. We won't fall for whatever their trap is, and we'll get paid.”
Trunks was deep in thought but still kept a close eye on their small line the short walk back to the ship. When they arrived, Armada led the senator in who followed without issue. However, at the door Noran stopped and stepped to the side, as if he were waiting for Trunks to pass. Trunks stopped short and waited; he wasn't going to fall for something so simple. The two exchanged cold stares for a minute before Noran finally turned without a word and walked in. Trunks followed after him.
-+-
Armada quickly introduced the senator and his attendant to the third unused barracks on the ship, and let them know it was theirs. She also gave them a very concise rundown of the rules, which basically consisted of their required presence in their room at all times. Meals would be delivered to them, and if they docked at any space stations on the way they must be escorted through the ship by Armada. Trunks smirked at the look on Noran's face, as the man seemed positively furious that she would impose such restrictions on him. He started to complain when the senator silenced him, but Armada added on anyway, “If you don't like the accommodations, then leave.” Nobody said anything after that.
The first two days passed without incident. Armada cooked meals and brought the senator and Noran food, which Noran seemed none to pleased about. Trunks knew Armada's cooking; it wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. It was just edible. Probably garbage compared to what a high powered, ultra rich politician is used to. And though he hadn't heard anything directly, he was sure they weren't enjoying the bare-bones military style quarters they were given.
Trunks stood in the galley leaned back against the counter a meter away from where Armada was currently preparing the next meal. “You think they'll put up with this another four and a half days?” he asked, his arms crossed over his chest.
“No,” Armada replied as she continued her work, not bothering to look at him. “But that's the point. They'll get angry. And sloppy. And whatever they thought they were going to do, they'll either rush through it or let their anger make them forget about whatever they've planned.” She finished her preparation and began filling two trays with food.
Trunks thought for a moment before speaking. “Well they're not going to do much in there, so you're planning on letting them out.” She only nodded in response before walking out of the galley carrying to trays of food. Trunks followed close behind.
Noran was already waiting when Armada opened the door to their guests's quarters, and as usual he looked unhappy. Armada handed him the two trays, and as Noran turned to walk away from the doorway, she spoke. “We're going to stop at orbital platform LN4195 to refuel and pick up supplies. We'll arrive in about an hour. You and the senator are welcome to disembark if you'd like while we're there.” Without giving Noran a chance to respond, she closed the door and turned to walk away.
Once the mercenaries reached the bridge, Armada stopped and looked at Trunks. “That will give them enough time to figure out how to execute whatever they're thinking about.” She paused momentarily, before adding, “And I need you to play dumb.”
“What do you mean?” Trunks asked..
“Clearly they already know something about me,” she said, glancing down the hallway toward the barracks. “You're the unknown. They don't know anything about you. So we need to make sure you continue to be a mystery,” she finished.
“So what are we doing once we get to the space station?” Trunks followed up once again.
Armada turned to him once more and smirked. “Just follow my lead.”
-+-
Having finished their meals, and only having about twenty minutes left to plan before the ship arrived at the space station, Noran and the senator tried to plan out their next move.
“Clearly she's toying with us,” Noran said in annoyance as he paced in the room. “We've been locked in here like criminals thus far and now suddenly we're stopping for supplies and she's letting us out? A ship like this wouldn't need to refuel on this short of a trip.”
“Calm down Noran,” Senator Ballasten responded from where he sat on one of the beds in the room.
“I can't calm down sir,” Noran stopped pacing and faced the senator. “This ship uses an ID scrambler, so we can't pull its signature,” he tossed his tablet to the senator who caught it with ease. “We don't know what kind of armaments it has, and we can't find anything similar to it,” Noran continued. “If we can't replicate the ship, that throws a serious wrench into things,” he finished and let out an exasperated sigh.
“We just need some good images of it, yes?” the senator asked as he tooled away on the tablet that Noran had tossed him.
“That would be a good start, seeing as we have nothing so far,” the attendant replied as he ran his right hand through his hair. “The question is, where are we gonna find that? Between our entering and exiting the ship, we haven't gotten a clear look at it, let alone a picture,” Noran said more to himself than the senator.
“How about this?”
Noran snapped around to look at the senator, who held out Noran's tablet. Noran closed the small gap between them and took the tablet from his senior's hands. What the senator had pulled up was video from a news report from some country in the Alliance. Noran played the video once, then twice, when he saw it—right at the beginning of the video he saw Armada and Mace fly out of harm's way and into a ship. No, this ship, it was just a regular metallic silver in the video instead of the black it was now. A smile slowly crept into Noran's face. “Oh, you put me to shame, sir.”
-+-
In the space station, Trunks and Armada sat at a table in the food court area inside the terminal. They both watched the senator and his attendant, sitting at a table on the other side of the terminal, probably about fifty meters away. Trunks finished taking a drink of his water, and asked, “You know what they're planning yet?”
“No idea,” Armada said without turning her gaze away from the senator and Noran. “But that guy's not normal.”
“Who, Noran?” Trunks asked while looking at the senator's assistant, or whatever he was. “Sure, I mean, he doesn't look like your standard personal assistant,” he added.
“That's because he's not,” Armada said, still watching Ballasten and Noran interact in between her own sips of water. “He's an energy fighter like us,” Armada spoke again. “You can tell from his gait; the way he walks. He's almost too muscular though, like he's sacrificed speed for power. Not a smart move,” she finished.
Trunks sighed, remembering his own mistake from a few years ago like Armada was speaking about him. “Yeah, I know a little about that,” he added with a slight hint of shame. Armada turned to look at Trunks, her face showing a mixture of confusion and curiosity. She opened her mouth to speak but was immediately interrupted by gunfire.
The mercenaries' heads snapped up as people began screaming and diving for cover. On the mezzanine overlooking the food court, a small group of young men—five, or six? It was hard for Trunks to be certain—had pulled out what looked like assault rifles and pistols and fired into the ceiling of the installation. “Ladies and gentlemen,” one young man with very light blond hair shouted out as he leaned over the railing holding an assault rifle in his hands. “If everyone stays calm and keeps their heads down, we'll be out of your way shortly. Thank you.” As soon as he finished his orders, the group scattered from the top of the mezzanine and headed for the nearby stairs to the lower level.
“What the hell do they...?” Armada trailed off as she was interrupted by Trunks.
“The senator,” Trunks said and nodded in the direction they had been watching only moments ago. Armada turned to look to see Noran was still there, but he was glaring in another direction. Armada followed his gaze to see the senator already twenty meters from Noran, standing calmly as two men guarded him, one with an assault rifle, the other with a pistol.
“Damnit,” Armada growled, “these stupid kids. Probably some gang that noticed a senator on the station.” Before Trunks could say anything else, Armada looked to him once more. “Stay here, and don't do anything. Noran doesn't know anything about you, and we need to keep it that way.” She pushed her chair back and stood up, looking around the station as people ran for their lives beneath panicked screams. She turned back to Trunks one last time, “On second thought, if you can stay under their radar, move closer to the senator.” With that, she took off running through the crowd toward the stairs coming down from the mezzanine. Trunks took his cue and got up, and headed toward the senator through the throngs of screaming civilians.
Noran saw Armada headed through the crowd toward the stairs that several of the armed instigators were currently headed down. His eyes narrowed; he certainly didn't trust a mercenary to handle this issue with grace. He had to do something. Noran shot another glance to the senator, who nodded in response so slightly his captors missed it. Noran turned and started to push his way toward Armada.
Once Armada reached the stairwell leading upstairs on the right side of the terminal, she waited briefly. The kids with guns didn't let off anymore energy than their normal lifeforce, so she figured they weren't energy fighters. For that she was glad, because if she had to take down half a dozen careless energy fighters in a space station... well, it wouldn't be easy. She heard several pairs of footsteps coming down lazily, and since the terminal was clearing of bystanders by this point she knew it had to be at least three or four of the seven would-be bandits she counted on the mezzanine when they first made their move. She stood back, just behind the wall separating the stairwell from the rest of the terminal, and waited for them to appear around the corner. As soon as she saw a fourth young man step down, she sprung into action.
Picking off the one in the back first, since he had an assault rifle, Armada rammed the palm of her right hand into the base of his spine. The kid barely had time to shriek in pain before he fell to the ground, incapacitated. The other three turned, but no sooner had they looked upon her, Armada had them on the ground with three quick, solid uppercuts to their abdomens—hitting each in his diaphragm, taking the air from his lungs. As they each fell, Armada shot energy blasts at each of their weapons, destroying them.
No sooner had she finished this task, Noran was upon her. Before Armada could speak, he swung at her and she barely missed blocking his punch. Taking a strong right hook squarely in the center of her face, Armada jumped backward to put some distance between her assailant and herself.
“What game are you playing at mercenary?!” Noran shouted in anger. At this, his energy flared and began to whirl around him in a pale green aura. “Now you lose your life for crossing me!”
“Stop, you idiot!” Armada shouted back after wiping at her face, a smear of blood beneath her nose. “If I'd wanted you or the senator, I'd have done it myself. I wouldn't hire some ragtag band of kids with guns to do it. If you're half as smart as you think you are, you know that,” she said but kept back in her stance, ready for Noran to attack again.
Noran clenched his teeth and his right fist in front of his chest momentarily before he let go of his energy and it dissipated around him. “Fine. Now we need to find the rest of these punks so we can get out of here.”
Trunks had managed to clear some distance between the senator and his two new bodyguards and where he and Armada were moments ago, but not all of it. The crowd cleared up before he got all the way there, so he ducked behind a long planter where he could still see the senator but the gunmen couldn't see Trunks. He was contemplating when to make his move when the armed guards spoke up. “Holy shit, that woman just took out Curi!” one of them exclaimed.
“What should we do?” the second asked, and Trunks suddenly felt a spike in energy that he wasn't familiar with. A quick glance over the planter in that direction revealed Noran standing with his energy raised, and Armada a few meters away wiping at her mouth. Trunks scowled; he had no time to deal with that issue when he still had to get the gunmen away from the senator. Noticing they were distracted by the spectacle before them, Trunks took the opportunity.
He appeared, seemingly out of nowhere to guys guarding the senator. With two quick chops across the back of their necks, both men were knocked out and fell to the ground. Senator Ballasten took a step back from Trunks and had what appeared to the demi-Saiyan to be an actual display of emotion on his face. The senator looked purely shocked. Trunks didn't bother to say anything in response before he flew over to where Armada and Noran appeared to be having some sort of showdown.
Just as Noran powered down, Trunks appeared between him and Armada, his back to his comrade. Noran narrowed his eyes at 'Mace.' I didn't sense him at all, not even when he flew over here... Noran thought with deep curiosity. Before anyone had the opportunity to speak, Trunks sensed three more people coming down the stairs on the other side of the mezzanine. His head whipped around in their direction, and in less than a second he was upon them.
“Oh shit!” one of the kids managed to yell out before Trunks took them out without seriously injuring them. With their weapons on the ground, Trunks stomped on the two assault rifles and one pistol the three carried between them, destroying them.
“Good work,” Armada said as she ran up behind Trunks. He turned to see Noran stalking their direction with anger written across his face.
“I don't think he's gonna agree with you,” Trunks said and motioned toward the senator's attendant with his head. Armada spun around and glared at Noran as he approached.
“Very cute,” Noran spat as he closed the gap between himself and the mercenary pair. “Trying to make yourselves look good in front of the senator? By what, beating up a bunch of kids barely out of their diapers?” He stopped two meters away from the pair. “We're not so easily fooled.”
“We had nothing to do with this, you asshole,” Armada spat in return. “And you're lucky I don't kill you for that cheap shot,” she added, referring to the sucker punch he landed on her when she was busy trying to ensure his senator's safety.
“You, kill me?” Noran shot back. “You don't have—“ Noran began, but his insult was interrupted by the sound of several dozen heavily-armed security guards bursting into the terminal from the security doors beneath the center of the mezzanine. The security guards immediately leveled their weapons at the three energy fighters standing over three kids still groaning in pain.
“There's no need for any of that.”
Everyone turned to see Senator Ballasten slowly walking over to the group. One security guard in particular, the only one not wearing a face mask Trunks noticed, stepped forward and lowered his weapon. “Senator Ballasten, my deepest apologies for everything that has happened here, sir.”
“It's quite all right,” Ballasten replied in that gravelly yet diplomatic voice of his. “My personal security was quite able to handle the situation,” he said, turning his gaze to the three energy fighters who were indeed with him.
Understanding what he meant, the apparent head of the security group raised a hand to signal to his men. “Stand down, they're with the senator.” Immediately, the rest of the security guards lowered their weapons and stood at ease. “Grab these kids and get 'em in cuffs,” he called out. “And get this place cleaned up.” The security guards sprang into action, and the lead officer approached the senator. “If there's anything we can do, sir, please let me know.”
Senator Ballasten had a look of utter indifference on his face. “Oh I believe our ship has probably finished refueling by now, I think we'll simply be on our way.” It was his way of indicating that he should be left to leave before the security lockdown that was surely in place now was lifted.
“Of course sir, we'll clear your ship to leave right away,” the officer responded. He then turned to direct the rest of his contingent regarding the kids they were dragging away in cuffs who, for those that weren't still unconscious, moaned in pain or actually started crying. Trunks suddenly felt a little guilty; he may have hit them harder than he needed to.
“Noran!” the senator nearly shouted in what Trunks figured was his 'I'm a little upset' voice. Noran gave one last glare to the mercenaries before he stepped over to the senator, and the pair headed toward the gate which led to the mercenaries' ship. Armada gave Trunks a quick glance before she followed behind their charges. After all, they still had a job to finish.
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After getting everyone back on the ship, and in the case of the senator and his guard dog, locked away in their rooms, Armada disembarked the ship from the space station and they continued on their course. As soon as she finished programming the autopilot to take over, she sighed heavily and let herself sink back into the pilot's chair. She reached up and gingerly touched her nose, trying to determine if Noran had broken it. She cursed herself for letting down her guard.
“You okay?” Trunks asked from his seat nearby at the navigation console.
Armada let out a sigh and fixed a glare on her comrade. “I can take a punch just fine, thanks.” She closed her eyes and ran her fingers along the sides of the bridge of her nose. “It's not broken, so it's fine.” She paused a moment. “It's my fault anyway, I shouldn't have let my guard down.” That bastard, she added mentally and narrowed her eyes as she kept her gaze on their autopilot course.
Trunks stood up from his seat. “Well Noran's an idiot anyway,” he changed the topic slightly. “If he really thinks we would hire some kids with guns to try and kidnap the senator.” Trunks shook his head and stayed silent a moment. “What the hell are they after, anyway?”
“They're trying to make a replica of this ship,” Armada looked up at Trunks from where she sat. He noticed that the redness in her face was already starting to dissipate.
“Why?” Trunks asked. “And how do you even know that?” he followed up before she could reply.
“I bugged their room,” Armada answered his second question first. “And I don't know. There's nothing particularly special about this ship.” She leaned forward and stood up slowly, flexing the muscles across her shoulders as if they were sore. “We've only got a few more days,” she stated. “We just need to keep them locked up and make sure things stay quiet.” She walked away and headed for the rear of the ship down the hallway passing the galley and lounge. Trunks wondered why she wasn't quite as concerned with them trying to make a replica of her ship... there could be no good reason to do so.
-+-
Going back to the schedule they had in the beginning, where Noran and Ballasten were locked away all day with the exception of meal deliveries, things had stayed quiet. They were only three hours out from their destination, a space station just outside sovereign airspace of the GaReXa Republic. Trunks sat back in his bed, lights out in his room because he was supposed to be sleeping. But there was too much to think about, and he was wondering about how his mother was doing back home. So he left the door to his barracks open, listening for whenever they did eventually arrive at their final destination.
He heard Armada's footsteps in the hallway, and realized she had stopped at the door to the room currently occupied by one senator and one jackass. He listened closely as she opened the door and spoke.
“We'll be arriving at your requested destination in approximately two hours and forty-eight minutes,” she said flatly. “Please have payment ready before you disembark.”
“Wait,” Trunks heard Noran's voice call out followed by heavier footsteps approaching the door. “Come with us,” he said lowly, almost like he was trying to keep someone from hearing him. Not someone, Trunks realized, the senator. Trunks sat up in bed and focused his senses to listen a bit more closely. “I've never met anyone like you,” Noran continued. “I... want you with me.”
“I-I don't know,” Trunks heard Armada respond. She sounded... flustered, almost embarrassed. Trunks's face contorted into pure confusion as he listened on. What the hell is this? He thought in shock and concern. He'd never heard Armada speak like that, let alone sound like—dare he say—a woman.
“Think of everything we could accomplish together,” Noran said, almost breathless. Did this guy... did he like Armada? Trunks's mouth hung agape in shock; was this for real? He actually pinched the top of his left hand with his right, just to make sure he was indeed awake and not dreaming.
“Noran, I, I need to tell you something very important,” Armada said lowly, and Trunks still couldn't believe what he was hearing. Where was Armada, and who the hell was talking to Noran? Because it sure as hell wasn't the woman he'd gotten to know for the past six weeks.
“The next time I see you, I'm going to gut you like the coward you are,” Armada ground out darkly. Trunks shook his head and almost laughed; she was messing with him! Now the world made sense.
Noran almost growled. “You stupid bitch, you have no idea what you've just given up.” Trunks had a hard time trying not to laugh as he envisioned the embarrassed and enraged look on Noran's face. Armada just made him look like a fool, and it was rather glorious. “You'll regret this.”
“The only thing I'm going to regret is not killing you now,” Armada answered, “and strangling that fat old man who drags you around like his dog.” She smirked, “Of course, maybe you like that sort of thing—”
“Pray you never see me again,” Noran cut her off, rage rolling from his words like steam from a boiling pot. “Because if you do, I will unleash cruelty upon you so unspeakable, you will beg me to kill you.”
Trunks heard Armada laugh darkly. “Says the man who just begged me to stand at his side.” She paused a moment, but continued “If you truly knew anything about me, then you would know that I would die a thousand painful deaths before I served under someone again for one second. I am a hurricane of death and cruelty, and anyone who crosses me winds up dead or wishing they were dead. I am nobody's tool,” she finished and with that Trunks heard her press the button to shut the door in Noran's face. Immediately he heard her footsteps walk away.
Trunks laid back against his pillow and laughed out loud, albeit quietly. He just wished he could have seen the look on Noran's face. He felt somewhat proud of his comrade, even if what she did was mean. Hell, if anyone deserved it, it was that guy.
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Trunks stood next to Armada, closest to the door of the ship. Directly across from him on the other side of the door stood the senator with his guard dog behind him. Armada looked up from the tablet she was using and addressed the group. “The transaction is verified. We're good.”
The senator nodded in that fake-appreciative way politicians are good at. “Thank you for your services.” With the transfer confirmed, Trunks opened the door, and the senator let himself out.
Noran stepped forward, and smirked at Trunks as he 'accidentally' bumped his shoulder into Trunks's shoulder. The contact only lasted for a moment, but that was all that was needed. Noran let his internal shield down, and when he made contact with Trunks, the Earthling was able to sense just how deep the well of Noran's power went. It was disconcerting; not because he was any match for Trunks, because he wasn't. But in a one-on-one fight with Armada, Trunks wasn't sure she would survive.
Noran glanced over his shoulder and shot one last smirk at Trunks before Armada pressed a button on the console next to the door which caused it to shut. “Smug asshole,” Armada spat before she turned and walked into the bridge. Trunks couldn't help but laugh at her comment. His mother used to say, hell have no wrath like a woman scorned. Maybe one day Armada would kill him, and it would be a hell of a fight.
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